Hey
So, I've been working on this story for the past... year or so? Not consistently, mind you. I tend to have months where I forget this site exists, then get bored and think about how I'd like to write a choose your own adventure story then re-find it. I have about fifty pages fully written out and keep looking at this and thinking I have very few ideas where I'm going with the rest of the story.
It'll probably be long. I have a few endings already written, all in the form of various sorts of deaths (not sounding very hopeful yet, is it?). It's written in second person, the main character being male. His name is Archie and he's a gang-member for a bunch called the Grave-diggers. Or maybe he isn't. That'll be up to you. He lives in something of an alternate universe, though it is very similar at this point to a mid-eighteen-hundreds setting, in a clogged-up city full of mud and poor lower class individuals.
I'm making this thread for you guys to throw some ideas at me, I don't care how wild they are. I have a few ideas I'm working towards but would love my brain to be jogged a bit. It gets a bit lazy and couch-loving at times.
Here are three brief examples of how I write, set a few years apart in the story:
Though the smoke made it difficult to see and breathe, you managed to weave your way through a few tables occupied by some younger men that should have been older than yourself, but younger than thirty years of age. Most kept drinking and playing cards as you passed, but a few eyed you suspiciously, hands moving to their hips before discarding you as a threat. Obviously these men are Ned's heavies... if Ned is the leader. You aren't too sure.
Finally, you approach the smokiest corner, hearing a woman's giggles. On a low couch curved as to hug the wall, a broad, muscular man sat with a pipe propped in one hand while his free arm was about a redheaded woman. She rested her head on his shoulder, staring at him in admiration before kissing his neck. Stoic, but smiling, the man glances your way before his smile fades.
A heavy stands up from a nearby table and whaps a hand onto your chest. "Where you going, boy?"
"I'm looking for Ned," you say. "It's important."
"Eh, bring him over, Bill," the seated man says, beckoning with his pipe. "He's just a boy."
The heavy stands aside, letting you move to stand before the table that Ned has his booted feet propped up on. Eyeing him, you take in his attire and attitude to the best of your ability. He is not... rich, but neither does he wear clothes like yours that are thinning at the knees and elbows or with the hems ripped. His black hair is long and well-brushed, tied back at the nape of his neck, but the temples are flecked with early grays. He can't be older than thirty-five, you decide. His blue eyes dart down over you, equally taking you in.
Ned's girl appears about twenty, her porcelain shoulders bare and a thin shawl of violet transparent material draped over her arms. Her green eyes remain mostly on Ned, but she does give you a cursory glance as if to make sure that you will give Ned no reason to leave her. Her sleeveless black dress sheathed her body most seductively and you softly blush as you find yourself staring at her shapely waist.
"Well, go on boy," Ned says, nodding. "I assume you didn't come here only to ogle my dear Irma." He kissed her forehead and she softly giggled once more, nuzzling him.
"I... no, sir. But certainly she is... worth ogling."
He laughed and gently nudged Irma. "Hasn't he got a silver tongue? Well... then what's your reason?"
* * *
You weren't certain what made you do so, but with your grip on Henry's arm, you pulled her close to your chest and your lips found hers. She breathed in sharply, her body tensing against yours for a moment, then slowly she relaxed into your embrace. Your arms encircled her, as did hers with you, and you gently pressed her against the door frame of the bedroom as your lips shifted against hers, head tilting for a better angle.
Her fingers found your bare chest as you were yet to button up the shirt, tentatively exploring your toned muscle before becoming more adventurous and slipping around your back beneath your shirt. Fingers kneading your back muscle, lips gently working against yours, she pressed herself into you, her neck arching upwards for better access. She gently shuddered and a smile broke the kiss before she shook her head and gently pressed her hands to your chest.
"I don't think we should..."
Your mouth caught hers again, this time a little more roughly, and she moaned softly. Despite however much she wanted to enjoy the sensations you were offering her, she broke the kiss again, this time by turning her head.
* * *
Before another word could be uttered, you dropped the last finger. Henry exploded into action and you turned the corner back into the sitting room, finger pressing and squeezing the trigger as your arm surfed to find targets. One lackey down, two lackeys down, Bobby's arm clipped, another lackey down on one leg, you only turned back around the corner as you felt a warmth spread through your waist. You glanced down, but the bullet had only scraped your abdomen, just a surface wound.
Henry had made it to the top of the stairs and you bolted after her, revolver angrily flaming away at Ned and his heavies as they returned fire. She had caught on quickly, understanding the idea of going up - she ran through a doorway leading into her own room and tugged you after her. You kicked the door shut with your foot and grabbed a high dresser next to the door before heaving it to block the door with a heavy thwump sound.
Henry had made it to the window overlooking a section of roof and a small alley behind her house. She was tugging at the stuck clasp to no avail, so you grabbed her by the waist and pulled her back before smashing your gun-hand through the glass. Shards flew out onto the roof and you clambered out, your boots crunching on the red roof tiles as you pulled Henry after you. Below you was the dark alley, a pile of refuse and rubbish heaped high - a good place to jump as any.
