#the regular closing lead rewards us by letting us each pick out a snack & a drink that she requisitions which i think is way better

[gobbluthbutagirl]

last night my coworker told me that the night i walked out/almost quit hr guy gave everybody a $5 starbucks gift card at the end of the night which i’m thinking he must have done as a direct result of me walking out/almost quitting in addition to other people calling out that day and it’s so crazy how even if i had been there his attempt to reward people for being there was something i would have neither wanted nor had any use for

[feliix]

Peachy ✦ KSJ (18+)

✦  Pairing: Seokjin x Reader ✦ Word count: 1.6k ✦  Rating: M  

✦  Genre: smut, crack(ish), FWB!au

✦  Summary: Daily hookups with Jin had become the new norm, but what he has in store for tonight is nothing like what you’re used to

✦  Warnings: explicit smut, oral (male receiving), peach rings but used as sex toys (idk man I was going through it), dirty talk, cum swallowing, food play

✦ Requested by my love @ppersonna​ “JIN + COCKTAIL MAYHAPS?????? uwu”

✦  A/N: Honestly I don’t have anything else to say but I’m sorry. But this is the second fic I’ve posted today so were back baby! Tagging @miamorjoon​ @hobiance​ and @luxekook​ because for some reason they wanted this. unedited because I’m lazy ✦ Written for the BHQ Drinks and Drabbles game hosted by @bangtan-dreamland​ 

It worked like clockwork. Every night, 8pm on the dot, Jin would text you. Your text exchanges always went the same way. Each one of them beginning and ending with the same two messages.

Jin: 🍆 🤔 You: Front door is unlocked

The first time you hooked up with Jin you were not expecting for it to become a regular thing, but here you were, 6 weeks later with a regularly set sex schedule.

It started from just one date. One night of Netflix and chill turned into two, and then three, and now you had a friend with benefits. Not that you were complaining, Jin was the best you had ever had, and relationships weren’t exactly your thing so this was the absolute best it could get.

With a light tap on your front door and the click of your doorknob turning, you know he’s finally arrived. It was past 9:30 pm now, so he was running a bit behind schedule tonight. Yeah, you were slightly annoyed, but that's okay, all would be forgiven in due time.

“Y/N?” Jin calls, footsteps making their way up the steps preceding his voice, “I’m here!”

“Up here!” You yell back, but he already knew that. He knows the drill. Meet you in your bedroom at the top of the stairs to the right, but make sure to lock the front door first.

One knuckle taps on your doorframe to alert you of his presence. You almost don’t bother to look up from the screen of your phone, used to this daily routine and a little annoyed that he took so long tonight. You had sprayed perfume almost an hour ago now and it was beginning to wear, as was your mood.

“You’re late tonight,” you quirk your brow in question, noticing the shopping bag he holds in his hand, “What's that?”

“I stopped on my way to pick something up.”

Pacing over to you, he joins you on the bed, opening the paper bag and flipping it over to dump the contents on the bed.

“Condoms,” he holds up the box of trojans, the only name brand for the boujie boy he is.

“Snacks,” you say as you grab the bag of peach ring jellies, threatening to rip it open before he snatches it back from your hands. You shoot him a glare in response, but the smirk on his face shows no remorse.

“Just wait.”

“Wait?”

You’re genuinely confused now, watching him shift on the bed as he stands up to begin undressing. There didn’t need to be a hot and heavy clothes-being-ripped-off, make out session before you got down to business – it would all lead to the same place anyway.

“Well what are they for?”

“You’ll see.” A devilish is spread wide across Jin’s face. Your sex life definitely wasn't what most considered ‘vanilla,’ but something about these jelly rings said things were gonna get a little bit more frisky tonight.

As his pants leave his body you can tell he’s already semi hard. You swear this man’s boner never goes away, he’s definitely horny all the time. Not that you were complaining, you’ve been dripping as soon as you got the eggplant text.

Spinning on his heels your eyes meet his back, shamelessly traveling down to the swell of his ass. It was right there, you couldn’t help it. You can't see what he’s doing, but when you hear the bag of jellies being ripped open

You have no more energy to question what he was doing at this point, your eyebrow does raise as you hear him let out a small whimper and he fumbles with the bag. He keeps looking behind himself to make sure you can't see, locking eyes with your questioning stare and only grinning in response.

“Okay ready,” he says turning around with his hands on his hips. Your gaze immediately focuses on his cock, adorned with three jelly rings, stretched to the brim and wrapped around his shaft.

Jaw dropping in astonishment, you stare at his erect member, his face smug in response to your reaction. “You want me to…suck them off your dick?”

“Exactly.”

Your head tilts to the side as you admire Jin’s form – standing with his legs wide to show off his manhood, standing upright and embellished with the peach candies. No words come to your mind as a response, your mind is completely blank. So you decide to just shrug your shoulders in response

“They are kind of squeezing me, but no rush,” he laughs in an attempt to break the awkward silence that has formed. It's not your fault you’ve never seen a candy coated cock before.

“Right,” you scoot towards the edge of the bed to hop off, getting on your knees in front of him.  Your gaze hasn't left his candy garnished cock since you’ve first laid eyes on it. The way the jellies squeeze it so gently, the ridges forming between them on the shaft. You’d be lying if you didn’t think about riding him with them on, dying for some extra friction in your walls. Maybe another time…

Slowly, you wrap your mouth around the tip, your lips brushing against the first jelly in line.  It's sweet, the sugar garnish melting deliciously as it meets your mouth. The sugar coats your tongue as you extend it outwards, placing small kitten licks over the ridge between the first two jellies.

You sigh a moan of approval at the sweet taste, wrapping your lips fully around the first candy and hollowing your cheeks. It comes off easier than you had expected it to, sliding off from the lubrication of your saliva over his head. Jin lets out a steep moan throwing his head back as curses leave his lips.

“First one done,” you smirk as you look up at him through your eyelashes, chewing your accomplishment (sweetly). Small strands of his hair are stuck to the sides of his face, framing his lustful eyes as sweat gathers at his brow. You watch as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, swallowing thickly to choke back the flood of moans threatening to leave his lips.

You tongue at his cock again, dragging it along his entire length to coat it in your saliva. The salty taste of his precum mixes with the peach flavor as you reach his tip. The mixture satisfies your taste buds as you lick up the remnants of his leaking tip.

“Fuck, keep going,” Jin groans, head falling back as his eyes screw shut, basking in the bliss you were giving him, “feels so good.”

You take his compliment as a sign to move forward, wrapping your lips around his tip and sliding them down the shaft to the next jelly. Your tongue grazes over each ridge of his cock, gliding over each vein and massaging them gently.

From the sounds leaving Jin’s mouth you can tell he was enjoying himself. His hands swiftly find their way into your hair, gripping it at the roots and tugging at your scalp. He wasn't being pushy, though. Just needed something to grip onto in order to keep himself together for a little while longer.

The second jelly has already begun dissolving from the repetitive movement of your tongue over it. It slid off just as easily as the first, breaking in half as it reached the ridge between his shaft and his head. You chew and swallow it triumphantly, leaving his dick to twitch in anticipation as he’s left with no stimulation.

“Last one,” you smile as you take his head in your mouth one more time, licking at the precum gathering at his tip before sliding your mouth down his shaft. The last jelly is placed at the base of his cock, squeezing him harder than the rest. The candy was stretched to its limits, creating an indent on his cock. The challenge of getting this one off enticed you, and you knew Jin would enjoy the feel of you deep throating him to get it off.

You sunk your head down all the way, hollowing out your cheeks and relaxing to take all of him in. His cock spasms on your tongue as you reach his base, flicking your tongue over the candy trying to get it off. This one was on there good, and it wouldn't be as easy as the last two.

In a split second you decide to pull back your lips, biting down gently on the jelly to get a better grip.

“Ow, fuck!” Jin yells, his thighs tightening under your grip as your teeth graze his member. Your smug with his reaction, giggle slightly as you move your lips back to take hold of the jelly. But it wasn’t over just yet.

Bobbing your head up and down you suction the peach candy against your lips, using it as a guide as you massage his cock with your tongue. Jin’s cock throbs in response – you know that he’s close.

For added stimulation you remove your grip from one of his thighs to grope his balls, something you know always sends him over the edge. And before you know it white hot spurts are landing on your tongue. His hand grips your hair as his face morphs in bliss, a muted croak echoing from his throat as he keens into your touch.

Once he’s finished you pull away for the last time, chewing the peach ring as your reward and swallowing it with his cum. He’s out of breath, panting as his hands hold onto your shoulders as he recovers from his high.

“How do you feel?” You ask as you look up at his euphoric expression. Small beads of sweat are dripping down the sides of his face and running down his neck, glistening from the dim light of the TV illuminating the room.

“Just peachy.”

‘Peachy’ is copyright 2020 @parksfilter​, all rights reserved. Please do not repost or translate on any platform.

[raendown]

I was bribed in to this by @rookie-d and @sleepysenseis and I regret nothing. Show some love to Rookie’s art for this au as well!

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Word count: 1893 Rated: G Summary: Owning and running a bakery with his husband isn't exactly where he thought life would take him but Tobirama wouldn't trade this for the world.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info in the header!

Patissier-pation Award

The familiar chime of a bell greeted him first as he walked through the front door, eyes down to inspect the mail he had gathered on his way in. Mostly junk, a couple of bills, and a letter that he would bet his entire bank account had come from Hashirama. He would know those graceless spiky letters anywhere. Off on some nature retreat for the past month, there was little doubt this letter would be filled with the same rambling nonsense as the last one had been, lengthy descriptions of the woman he had apparently fallen in love with at first sight. 

Under the hum of halogen lights and the ever present smell of baked goods Tobirama could hear a slight groaning sound that made him smile. Instead of going to look for the source right away he continued to flip through the mail until he had sorted junk from bills, slipping behind the till counter to put everything in its right place. Running their own shop was hard work some days but always worth it in the end. While he was there he tidied a few receipts from the day before and used a nearby rag to wipe off a bit of icing probably smeared around by a customer’s child. Only when he was satisfied that everything was in order did he finally turn to look at the plush couch set just a little ways apart from the rest of the seating area. During peak hours the various armchairs and stools were usually filled with people taking a few minutes to enjoy the treats they had just purchased. 

Since right now was not peak hours the only person to be found was Madara, stretched out across the couch that Tobirama had quietly purchased just for moments like these. A fond smile touched his lips as he watched his favorite idiot rub at a full belly with furrowed brows. 

“How many of those tarts actually made it on to the shelves?” Tobirama called out to him with a lightly scolding tone. 

“Most of them!” Madara shot back. Then he groaned again while both hands paused to delicately cup his stomach. “I could have sworn I only ate a few. Just to taste test. Quality checking is important!” 

“I see.”

The argument might have been a bit more believable if Madara didn’t use the same one every time he overindulged in his own products. He was the one who initially came up with the idea for the two of them to open their own bakery and Tobirama supposed he should have known then that doing so would lead to regular episodes like this one. His husband was an amazing patissier but he was also his own biggest fan. Or his stomach was, at least, and Madara had never been known for denying whatever his stomach wanted. 

“Did you by any chance happen to find time to finish the Sarutobi order before you took your little snack break?” 

“Of course I did,”’ Madara huffed. Generously sacrificing one hand for a moment, he pointed imperiously towards the order counter where there indeed were three boxes with the shop logo printed on the front stacked neatly together and tied with ribbon. Inside there would be a dozen cupcakes each with, if Tobirama was remembering currently, blue icing and rainbow sprinkles arranged to spell out the recipient’s name. A fairly simple order. He wasn’t surprised Madara had finished the whole thing while he was gone, though he was surprised there had been enough time left over to gorge on the tarts he’d put in the oven before he left. 

Since he trusted his partner Tobirama didn’t offer the insult of going to check the order. Instead he mentally checked it off his list of things to do before heading in to the back to go wash his hands. There was still another order he needed to get a start on, although most of it would have to be finished tomorrow. He was fairly sure they wouldn’t have enough icing until their shipment arrived the next morning. 

A quick peek in to the fridge on his way by confirmed his suspicions. Although they still had a tub each of pink and white, yellow was running low and the red was all but entirely gone. If he tried to decorate anything he might have enough to use red for a couple of accents but certainly not enough to cover several dozen cookies in the pattern the order called for. It was a good thing all this wasn’t due to be picked up until late tomorrow. 

Hands clean, Tobirama tied an apron around his middle and began pulling out the ingredients necessary for making his specialty gingerbread, one of the quickest selling items on their menu every winter. When he was younger he never would have believed that life would take him here. As a child he’d mostly been obsessed with science and little else. Most of his career dreams had centered around NASA or biochemical research, plans for changing the world with his magnificent discoveries. Now he co-owned a bakery with his husband and spent most of his days rolling dough or decorating cakes, all in between manning the till and watching children’s faces light up as they picked out which treat they wanted to take home. It was hardly the auspicious career he’d always imagined but it was a good life, full and happy, one that he wouldn’t trade for anything. Not even for the trips to outer space he used to dream about. 

So lost in his own musings was he that it felt as though he’d only just begun mixing the dough when he looked down and found row upon row of perfectly shaped cookies all laid out before him. Some were made to look like people, some like trees, and others still were laid out in thick flat sheets with which he would later build a house. Gingerbread was always quite fun to work with. A quick count told him that he already had everything he needed as well as a couple of spares in case one or two of them burnt in the oven yet there was still just a bit of dough left over.

With a whimsical smile he reached for his tools again and began to shape a new pair of cookies.

Baking gingerbread didn’t take all that long, almost as much time as it took for them to cool once they were back out of the oven, and as he packaged everything to keep it safe for tomorrow he set his final two creations aside. It may have been a whim but he’d never sent anything out of this kitchen that hadn’t received his full effort and he wasn’t about to now. There was, after all, just enough red icing left - not to mention plenty of black. 

Madara was still draped across the couch in the front shop when Tobirama came out to check on him, one of their fancier order boxes in hand. The bellyache appeared to have passed and instead pulled the man down in to a light food coma. Long dark lashes fluttered against pale cheeks when Tobirama bent to stroke one of them, rousing his husband from what looked to a very peaceful if possibly undeserved nap. 

“Mnng? I wasn’t asleep.”

“Your snoring tells another story.” 

“T-that wasn’t snoring! I was just humming a song under my breath!” 

Lifting one eyebrow, Tobirama shook his head. “Mhm, very convincing.” 

“Shut up! What’s that? I didn’t think we had anything else going out today. Did I forget something?” Madara frowned and his eyes grew distant as he went over their orders for the week in his head. 

Rather than let him suffer Tobirama simply placed the box in his lap. 

“You forgot to greet me properly when I came back from running errands but I’ll forgive you for that just this once. These are for you, if you’ve still got room in your belly.” 

“Oh?” 

Always intrigued by the promise of more sweets, Madara plucked at the edge of the box to pull the tab keeping it closed out of its slot. He lifted the lid with an almost childish expression of anticipation that morphed in to a graceless full-mouthed gawk when he spotted the gift inside. Much to Tobirama’s horror, he caught sight of what looked to be tears gathering in his husband’s eye.

“Is that...us?” 

“Yes it is.”

“We’re holding hands. And you gave yourself a little fur collar just like your favorite jacket!” 

Tobirama rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck. He really liked that jacket. “A little extra detail never hurt anyone,” he murmured as though in protest. 

He was mortified to see Madara cradle the cookies in one palm so he could use his other hand to gently stroke the little red icing lines marking where Tobirama had tattooed his own face during a rebellious youth. The number of times Madara had given those marks the same gentle attention were uncountable and it never failed to draw a little color in to his cheeks, embarrassed that his heart could be so softened by such a simple gesture. 

“Just eat them and go back to moaning about your belly,” he grumbled even as he leaned in to the touch. Madara huffed at him in amusement. 

“What brought this on, hm? I feel like I’m being rewarded for something.” 

“It was a whim and nothing more.” 

Something about that seemed the right thing to say as Madara puffed up like he’d been complimented, as though being gifted cookies made out of leftover dough were the greatest gesture of love. 

“Thinking about me, were you?” his husband asked with a sly undertone. 

“I am always thinking of you,” Tobirama admitted. It was true so he saw no reason to deny it. 

Madara blinked once. “Oh. Well...I’m always thinking of you too. So there!” 

Both of them blushing and flustered, two silly little gingerbread men still held ever so carefully in one of Madara’s palms, Tobirama was eternally grateful there were no customers in the shop to witness the disgustingly sweet scene they were surely making. With a rough clearing of his throat he pulled away and cast his eyes anywhere else in the room. 

“Right,” he said gruffly, “eat your cookies. I’m going to go take inventory so we can call in another supply order tomorrow.” Spinning on his heel relieved him of the sight of his beloved husband cradling such precious if silly gifts but it did not spare him the sound of a quiet voice trailing after his rapid footsteps. 

“I love you.” 

Tobirama wrinkled his nose against the wave of mushy feelings in his chest until the urge to turn around and throw himself down on the couch with his partner had faded. He stepped out with purpose, with dignity, with every intention of going to make himself useful for the rest of the afternoon. But he did pause in the doorway to the kitchen long enough to turn his head to one side. 

“Love you too,” he murmured. 

It felt like capitulation but, then, Madara had already won his heart many years before and the life they’d built together would always be sweeter than any treat he could bake for himself. 

[darkblueboxs]

Best Laid Plans

For #aftgsummer

Prompt: Day trip

Pairing: Kandreil 

Read here or on AO3

*

Kevin’s plan for the last day of summer is bullet-proof: he has a huge wall calendar, a copy of his class schedule, a note of every Exy match and banquet date, a print-out of essay deadlines and exam dates, and enough pens and sticky notes to stock a stationary shop. All he has to do is put it all together.

Unfortunately, he forgot to factor his partners into the equation.

He is laying out his highlighters by order of preference when the sound of Neil’s head hitting his desk echoes across the room. Kevin doesn’t even bother with a cursory upwards glance; he can imagine well enough the image of despondency that would meet him if he did.

“Is all of second year going to be like this?” Neil groans into his stack of textbooks.

“No,” Kevin answers, at the same time that Andrew says, “Yes.”

“It’s a matter of planning,” Kevin continues, sending Andrew an arch look. “As long as you make a schedule, stick to it, plan out your work periods and your rest times and stick to a regular sleep pattern-” Neil huffs sceptically, but Kevin continues as though he didn’t hear, “You’ll find it perfectly manageable.”

Neil sits up to cast a doubtful look in Andrew’s direction. Andrew simply shrugs. “It’ll work out.”

“You can’t just say that about everything.” Kevin turns back to his planner. He doesn’t realise Andrew has moved from the sofa until he feels the brush of his breath on the back of his neck. Bracing his arm on the back of Kevin’s chair, Andrew leans over him to inspect Kevin’s progress.

“You have every minute of your every day planned from now until Christmas,” he observes flatly. Curiosity piqued, Neil joins him on Kevin’s other side.

“Wow,” he says as he studies the neat blocks of colour denoting Kevin’s activities. “I’m amazed you didn’t plot your bathroom breaks onto this, too.”

“I don’t need a planner to tell me when to take a shit,” he says irritably.

“What about me and Andrew? Do we get our own highlighter colour?” Neil leans forwards, pretending to read from a particular quadrant. “Sunday, seven am, get boned.”

“You two can ‘bone’ all you want at seven am on a Sunday, I’ll be enjoying my one lie-in of the week, thank you.”

Tired of their bickering, Andrew reaches between them to flip Kevin’s planner shut.

“Hey!”

“We’re going for a drive,” Andrew announces. He doesn’t wait for Neil or Kevin’s response, but leads the way with the typical certainty that they will follow.

Kevin and Neil flick a look at each other. The three of them have come as close to telepathy as anyone ever will, and this is the look that says, is this worth fighting him over?

The answer is, as always, a resounding no.

After Neil wins the scuffle for the front seat, Kevin settles into the middle back seat, arms crossed. Neil flicks a triumphant smirk over his shoulder, which Kevin replies to with a scowl. The Maserati’s engine purrs through the leather as Andrew throws it into gear. Kevin lets his head fall back as they pull onto the motorway, mentally mapping out and re-arranging his plans for the day onto the blank fabric of the ceiling. There’s a rustle as Neil finds the packet of peanuts Kevin stashed in the glove compartment, and a moment later one bounces off his forehead.

“Andrew,” Kevin complains.

Andrew sighs heavily through his nose. “Children.”

Neil cackles, and Kevin reaches around the seat to throttle him, and Andrew threatens to pull over and stuff them both in the boot, bringing the scuffle to an end. At some point during their distraction he pulled off from the road that would take them to downtown Columbia, electing instead to loop around the metropolis.

“Where the hell are we going, Andrew?” Kevin watches as buildings give way to long stretches of scrubland, bleached brown by weeks of sun. Midday is approaching, and soon a stuffy car will be the last place any of them want to be trapped. Andrew shrugs and merges onto another road seemingly at random.

“I think I hitchhiked here once,” Neil muses.

“How? It’s so empty.” The road stretches out like an endless tar river ahead of them. Other traffic is sparse to non-existent; the idea of breaking down out here is daunting enough. Kevin can’t imagine trudging along the roadside in the summer heat, waiting for a truck to take pity on him, subject to the chaotic whims of the world. Kevin isn’t as dependant on company as he was when he left the nest, but still the endless stretches of emptiness scratch at the remaining agoraphobia in the back of his mind.

Suddenly, Andrew slams on the breaks, hard enough that the strap of Kevin’s seatbelt cuts off the flow of oxygen. Neil jolts forwards, saved from smacking his face off the dashboard by Andrew’s arm. The bag of peanuts is not so lucky, scattering over the front seats in a cascade of empty shells.

“Fuck,” Neil chokes out. Kevin reaches forward to grasp his shoulder, and Neil clamps his hand down over it, reassuring each other of their presence. They look to Andrew; the hand that was not thrown out to protect Neil is clamped, white-knuckled, on the wheel.

Their explanation stares at them from the other side of the windscreen, a tall, slender deer with large, brown eyes. Its ear twitches as it watches them, caught between fear and curiosity.

“Move,” Andrew says as though the animal can hear him. “Move, you idiot.”

Neil leans across him to tap the horn. Startled by the noise, the deer darts across the road and disappears amongst the trees. After flicking a glance over Neil, Andrew turns to pinch Kevin’s chin between his fingers, turning his head back and forth to inspect the damage. The seatbelt left a red line across his collarbone, which Kevin insists does not hurt. Andrew prods it with his forefinger, and when he receives no reaction, he nods. He cups Kevin’s cheek briefly before letting go, the closest Andrew comes to acts of reassurance.

“She came out of nowhere,” Neil says. Andrew hums in agreement. He taps his fingers against the wheel, but does not start the engine up again until Kevin’s breathing has returned to normal.

They end up weaving along Lake Murray, bursts of endless, glittering blue backing the rows of trees that flash past. Andrew’s speed is unaffected by their brush with the deer, but his eyes don’t stray from the road ahead, not even to take in the glowing vistas as they pass.

Andrew picks an exit at random, and they pull up near a small jetty. At the peak of summer it would be swarmed with fishers and families in campervans. As the season draws to the end, only a few stragglers remain, a mother watching her toddlers chase each other around the picnic tables while kayakers splash each other with their oars a little way out from the boathouse. The boathouse shares its building with a shop that sells snacks and children’s toys. Andrew swings past the plastic bats and balls to raid the slim freezer of its popsicles while Neil stares at a map marking hiking trails and beauty spots.

They sit on the end of the jetty, feet swinging over the edge while they devour their purchases. Kevin catches Neil using his soda as an ice-pack, and the ensuing squabble nearly ends with them tumbling into the lake. Andrew watches them through lidded eyes, popsicle dangling from his mouth as he leans back on his arms. Noticing the reddening patches spreading across the back of Andrew’s neck, Kevin sends Neil back to the shop with a nod, distracting Andrew from his absence by debating which bird species were responsible for the orchestra of chirps and calls echoing across the forest. Andrew scowls when Neil returns with a bottle of sunscreen, but after a lecture from Kevin and pleading eyes from Neil, he submits to having his arms and neck slathered with factor fifty.

Andrew finds a picnic bench in the shade to drape himself over while Neil drags Kevin along a walking trail that meanders along the ins and outs of the coastline, finishing at a sandy outlet that gives then a panoramic view of the lake. Kevin ruminates on geographical quirks and features of the area until Neil grows tired of Kevin’s musings and persuades him to abandon his socks and shoes on the white sand so they can wade along the shallow embankment. The sludgy sand of the lakebed gives way so easily underfoot that for a second Kevin fells as though he’s being sucked down into quicksand. He stumbles, knocking into Neil as he does so. Neil mistakes it for a challenge, and bumps him back. Kevin, having barely recovered his balance, loses it all over again. He reaches out for Neil’s arm in the vain hope of steadying himself, but succeeds only in pulling Neil over with him.

They crash into the water with identical shouts. When Kevin looks up, Neil is pushing his sodden bangs back from his eyes. Neil takes one look at his expression and bursts out laughing. Kevin reaches for Neil’s shirt, the idea of drowning him in the sapphire lake water growing in its appeal, but is distracted from his mission when Neil catches Kevin’s mouth with his instead.

They stay there a while, drenched clothes plastered to their skin as the cool water swirls and laps at them, kissing the salty-sweet taste of the lake from each other’s lips.

They stumble back to the picnic benches, where they find Andrew absorbed in watching birds flit back and forth between the bird feeders hanging overhead. He levels the dripping pair with a long look.

“You have a hickey,” he says to Neil at last.

“Jealous?” Neil responds. Andrew’s eyes flick to Kevin, as good a confirmation as any. Kevin’s lips twitch as he tilts his head to one side, making a show of looking Andrew over.

“He needs more sunscreen,” Kevin announces. Andrew rolls his eyes.

When Andrew is slathered up once again to Kevin and Neil’s satisfaction, Kevin rewards him with a soft kiss to his pulse-point, enjoying the way Andrew’s body shivers under the point of contact.

“You’re dripping everywhere,” Andrew says.

“You think I did this?” Kevin levels Neil with a pointed look. Neil shrugs the accusation off.

They find an empty stretch of sand to settle down on, leaving the sun to do the heavy work of drying them off. After a cursory glance to ensure they’re alone, Neil pulls his shirt over his head and lies it out on a rock, stretching out on the sand.

“Sun lotion,” Andrew reminds him smugly.

“Fuck you.” Neil yawns. Soon, he is fast asleep, head pillowed in his arms while the sun warms his shoulder blades.

Kevin slides his feet around in the sand, mesmerised by the patterns it makes as the grains shift and tumble around him. Andrew arches an eyebrow at him.

“I travelled a lot, back when I was… in the nest. Never to places like this, though. It was always major cities, sporting events, press ops. Even then, my every minute was filled with promotions and endorsements and matches and interviews. I never had time to see much of anything.” Kevin picks up a handful of sand, enjoys the way it sifts through his fingers. “It’s quiet.”

Andrew pushes up suddenly, stalking off back in the direction of the boat house. He comes back with – Kevin blinks – a plastic toy set in a net bag. Little shovels, a bucket, brightly coloured moulds for pressing shapes of crabs and starfish into the sand. He dumps the contents into Kevin’s lap save for a shovel.

“Sandcastles work best with damp sand,” he offers, before moving off to work on his own project. When Kevin looks up several minutes later, most of Neil’s torso is buried in sand.

He makes a sandcastle, then another, then stacks one on top of the other two, quietly proud when the structure holds.

Neil wakes up as Andrew is smoothing sand over his shoulders with the blunt side of the spade. He wriggles to dislodge the wet sludge before hurling a clump at Andrew’s head. Andrew rolls behind Kevin’s larger frame in time to avoid Neil’s attack, and Kevin glares at Neil until he raises his hands in surrender.

As the sun sinks, the sky smooths into a pool of pinks and oranges, and the lake winks the colours back up to the heavens. They lean against each other and watch, side-by-side, while Andrew points out osprey and egrets as they flit from one end of the horizon to the other.

As the sun falls behind the line of the trees, Kevin realises with a start that the day is over, and he hasn’t done any of the things he planned to do with it. Then, he realises with a slow, creeping kind of irritation that quickly gives way to something warm and painfully affectionate, that this was Andrew’s plan all along.

“Andrew,” Kevin says. Andrew hums, but does not lift his head from its resting place on Kevin’s shoulder.

The words escape him, so Kevin doesn’t try to find them. Andrew will understand; he always does, after all.

It’s going to be a great school year.

*

Thanks for reading!

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

A View To A Winchester (Part 16)

Series Page

Summary: Julie’s starting a new life after divorce in a home with a very nice view.

A Dean X OFC story. I got this idea staring out the view of my home office window and thinking how nice it would be to have Dean Winchester to ogle.

Section Word Count: 3,200    

Section Content: fluff, flirting, angst, smut, R-rated language, oral sex

~~~~~

The drive back from Cas and Jack’s, after dropping them off, was quiet except for the airstream whipping past and into Baby’s cabin, and the Zeppelin soundtrack. Dean liked that Julie seemed fine just… being. And, just being with him. Not a ton of talk filling up the space between them.

After two weeks of being brushed off by Julie - dealing in her own way, which he respected, with the crazy shit she’d gone through - he felt anything but distant from her now. He’d come to terms with a lot during Julie’s unspoken restraining order. One, that this was turning into something greater than an infatuation. Another, Julie was not another hot chick of the week that he could save and reap sexy rewards and move on. This was not a throwback to his full-time hunting slash lothario days. Most important and scariest: he really wanted to keep her in his inner circle.

The question that kept resounding in his head. How? How would he do that, tell her everything, deal with the fallout? How does anything normal form after I show my hand? He could make love to this beautiful woman for days and days and enjoy every goddamn second of it. But, how could he really get close to her? And keep her safe? He realized how much he craved wanting to keep her safe. Story of my life.

Fuck it. Just making my head hurt with this round and round bullshit. She’s here. Now. His fingers crept over the front seat and wedged into the slit of crossed, warm, silky bare thighs. With a nonchalant motion, she angled more in his direction and allowed better access. A light smirk lined her lips as she stared out the passenger side window; the curve of her nose more prominent in the profile he glanced at again and again. He didn’t tease further, even though he wanted to dip his fingers into her folds; see if she was wet, soaked. He’d been dealing with a semi all fucking day, after all. She better be drenched. Only fair.

His palm pressed into her skin. Just inches away from that sweet snack. His tongue swirled in his mouth, remembering how tangy and sweet she tasted. How she bucked and twisted and ticked like a little time bomb. How gorgeous she looked when she came for him. He debated if he should pull off to the shoulder and eat her out again before they got home. Right in the front seat. He shook his head. No. That’ll lead to a fast and quick fuck. Way too quick. Dean shifted in his seat and caught Julie staring at him in confusion. “What are you arguing with yourself about?” She smiled.

Dean cleared his throat. “Nothin.”

By the time he was at his front door, working the lock open, he was amped and ready to pounce. It took every ounce of will power to rein in his need.

Her body leaned into his back. The warmth of her chin rested into the dip under his shoulder blades. “Getting tired, sweetheart?”

“Nope. Just like being close to you.”

He smiled, gaining entry. “So cheesy, it’s cute.”

“Yeah. You’re rubbing off on me.”

A flick of a nearby wall switch turned on the ceiling fan light in the living room. His eyes inventoried the space. Not the cleanest; but not the dirtiest it’s been, either. He spun and pulled her into the house by an arm and kicked the door closed. “I wanna rub all over you.”

Julie’s surprised and awakened eyes met his grin. She laughed. “Promise?”

His body pressed into the curves he wanted to memorize and ride all damn night. He nodded into a kiss that began on her lips, swept over her cheeks and trailed down the side of her neck. His fists curled into and tightened the t-shirt around her waist. “Italians do it better, huh?” He mumbled against her skin. ”We’ll see about that.”

A tight hitch of air caught in his throat at the feel of her fingers searching, finding, then fumbling with his belt buckle. His cock was inflating to fuck ready status in his jeans at an alarming rate, even for him. The strap loosened in an instant. Clinking of metal. A deft pull of leather through the denim loops, like a rip cord. Or a whip. The thought of Julie in a shiny black vinyl bustier swinging a riding crop made him bite his bottom lip.

His posture straightened. He dipped his chin to his chest to examine her thorough attentiveness with the task at hand. He didn’t relent his hold, pulling her even closer with clenched fists twisted in her t-shirt. The top of her lids and long lashes fluttered, staring at her own hands unbuttoning, unzipping. Quick inhales and exhales escaped her open mouth. He spied the tip of her tongue teasing that cupid’s bow. “Shit.” He moaned at the sight and feel of her fingers delving under the denim of his open fly, under the waistband of his boxer briefs, touching the heat and rigid state of his cock. She caressed and cupped his bulge, flicking her thumb over the head.

She tilted her face up to stare at him with those pretty brown eyes, tinted dark and heavy with lust. She rose up on tiptoes and kissed him. Her tongue tasted, investigated, matching the pace of her now stroking fingers.

His tongue swirled and danced with hers until she took a long languid suck. She pulled on the tip, held it hostage, then nibbled. The responsive muscle popped out of her mouth and he gasped. “Like having your way with me, sweetheart?” His chest heaved.

She grinned and nodded. “I wanna taste you.”

He gulped. “Bedroom’s this way.”

A shake of her head swung her ponytail. “Here. Can’t wait a second longer.” She kissed his lips one more time. The slide down his body was slow, meeting resistance from Dean who refused to release her t-shirt from his grasp. A sigh escaped from her lips. She pulled her hands out of his pants and lifted arms straight up. His eyes widened as she shimmied out of the shirt like it was a snake skin. The hypnotic display ended with her kneeled in front of him in a white cotton bra and those sweet jean shorts. The tops of her breasts stuffed into the cups rose and fell with her eagerness. His eyes lit up, glancing behind at the bare soles of her cute little feet. When the hell did she take off her sneakers and socks? She’s a little magician.

“That’s not gonna be comfortable on the hardwood, sweetheart.” He groaned at the pull of her fingers to get his jeans and underwear off. “Wait. Just a couple seconds longer.” He tossed her inside out t-shirt on one of the plaid couch cushions and strained to reach the blanket he always had over one of the armrests. He toed out of his sneakers and tossed the folded throw on the floor between them. His hands pulled her up by her armpits like a ragdoll. Long enough to nudge the blanket under her knees. “You’ll thank me later. Not as young as we used to be.” He grinned.

“You’ll thank me now.” She hummed and worked all of his bottom layers off in one quick peel to his thighs. His cock sprung out. She licked her lips at the sight and rocked back on her heels. “Of course, even this is pretty.” His grin dropped when her fingers slipped around the length and stroked, steady and slow. “Something this pretty shouldn’t have had to suffer all day.”

Damn. He rocked his head back. She’s good at this. “Longer than that.” He whispered.

“Hm?” He felt her rise up, using his cock as a handlebar. “What did you say?” Warm breath breezed over the tip. Her tongue flicked out to taste him. “Hm.” A satisfied moan. “What did you say, baby?” she repeated.

Shit. She’s using ‘baby’ now, too. He grit his teeth as the pace of her strokes picked up. He stared at the ceiling. “Been longer than a day.” The statement released from his throat with a struggle.

“How long has it been?” Another taste.

The words hiccupped out with each downward pump on his dick. He wouldn’t have been able to lie at that moment, even if he tried. “I haven’t… taken care of things… since that night we... were interrupted... by Cas.”

She stilled. “What?”

He sighed at the reprieve, still staring at the ceiling. “Lot going on, sweetheart. You were in the hospital and then when you got back home, things were… well, all that stuff you’ve been working through... I was too worried about you to jack off to naughty thoughts involving you.”

“Dean.” There was a hint of amazement in her voice.

God. I can feel her breath on my dick. Gonna cum on her face like it’s my goddamn first time if I can’t slow it down. Think about something else, anything else. Maybe I should paint the ceiling soon.

“That’s been over two weeks. Is that… normal for you?” Her fingers squeezed the base of his cock.

I can probably grab a couple gallons at the paint depot this week. He shrugged. “I’m pretty regular. Once a day. Sometimes more than that.”

“Have you been saving that all for me?”

I can hear the grin in her voice. Why the hell did I think abstaining was such a good idea again? “Did you think I was kidding earlier? When I said the next time I came it was going to be inside of you?”

Her lips pressed to the tip of his cock. “You didn’t specify where inside of me.” She moaned and without any warning sucked him into her mouth.

Dean hissed at the wet, pillowy texture of her beautiful mouth surrounding his pulsing, rock hard length. She took him in slow, humming in what sounded like gratitude to Dean’s ear. Her fingers wrapped and worked the stem. “Goddamn it, sweetheart.” He let out a low growl.

Her mouth and hands pulled back. “Dean. Look at me.” He groaned and dropped his head. Her lips were pink and full, eyes narrowed, palms resting on her thighs. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No.” He stroked her cheek. “Just, not as young as I used to be.”

“You’ve already said that.” She smiled and leaned into his fingers. “Neither am I. I think age provides some worthwhile experience.”

He sighed. “Oh, I agree. You’ve definitely got the experience part down.” Shit, that didn’t come out right. She didn’t seem to be paying his words much mind, with his cock in her face. “But, I let go now, don’t know how much good I’m going to be…” Her head tilted. She caught his thumb in her mouth, never breaking eye contact. One slow suck. “Damn.” Dean gulped.

“Do you want to let go?” She asked when she finished giving his digit attention.

He nodded.

“Then let go. One condition.” His cock twitched when her fingers held onto the base again. “You keep your eyes on me. And, I gotta hear that voice of yours, baby.”

He grinned as she moved closer to the tip, dripping with precum. “That’s two conditions.” He cradled the back of her head, fingers burrowing into her hair. “Lick my cock, sweetheart.”

She moaned, pressed her tongue to the tip, then swiped it over her lips. They glistened with his slick. Another long lick. “You’re going to cum so hard, aren’t you?” she asked in a low whisper.

There it is. That sexy as hell tone. “Yeah.” He grunted.

Pumping him now, using his excitement to lube him up, as she continued. “I’m gonna feel it, pulsing through this thick cock, right before you give me all of it.”

“Hm. Suck me, baby. I want to feel that nasty, sweet little mouth wrapped around me.” His fingertips dug into her scalp. She did what she was told. Lips slurped him down, mouth suctioned to his skin. The tongue swirled up at the tip before her mouth descended to swallow as much of his length as she could. Over and over. “Fuckin’ hell. That’s nice. Just like that. So fuckin’ good, baby.”

The moan in response vibrated into his cock. Her hands gripped his ass, using the leverage to push him into her mouth deeper. The position of her head and mouth maneuvered his cock like a lever. He could feel the tip hit the back of her throat. She gagged, took a second to regroup, then continued. When the tip eased down her throat the next time she swallowed in acceptance. Then again. Every damn time.

“Shit.” He groaned loud and pistoned his hips with her guidance. “Fucking your mouth feels so sweet. I can’t wait to fuck that pussy.”

More moans in agreement.

“I’m close, baby.”

Moaning.

“You ready?”

“Mm-hm.” One of Julie’s hands gripped the base.

“Fuck.” Dean moaned. His body tensed. All his energy shot straight to his cock. He felt his cum pulse through him, under her fingers. It spilled warm and thick into her mouth, wrapped tight around his tip. She moaned in surprise at the surge as it kept coming. She swallowed. Kept swallowing. His heart was ready to burst out of his chest. “Fuckin’ hell.” He shivered at the insistence of her mouth, licking him clean, as he came down from the high. “I gotta…” He crumpled to the floor in an awkward position, the waistband of his jeans clamping his thighs together.

Her hands cupped his jaw. “Okay?”

His breathing was ragged. “Yeah… yeah. I’m good. That was…” He smiled and leaned in for a kiss. He moaned at the little lick she gave him and tasted the salt and tang of his release. “Was that okay for you?”

She grinned. “God, yes. You looked so hot when you came in my mouth. I broke you for a second. It was heaven.” She laughed.

He raised a brow. “Yeah?”

She nodded. “Of course, you helped by refraining for so damn long. Don’t do that to yourself again…” She raised a brow back, “unless I tell you to.”

Damn, she’s such a cute little dominatrix. His forehead melded against hers. “Deal. Can we go to bed and maybe rest for a bit? Give me a chance to recharge?”

“Yeah.” She hopped to her feet. Dean licked his lips at the way her tits bounced in the bra. Two outstretched arms flung to his aid. “Come on, old man.”

He frowned. “You aren’t that far behind me, you know?”

She shrugged. “Not ahead of you being the key takeaway, here, Dean.”    

He waved off the assistance. “I’ve got it.” He huffed and rolled toward the couch, his back to her. The cushions supported his hands. He bent both knees under him in the still wrapped at the thighs state and catapulted up. Very smooth. I just full-out mooned her.

He worked his jeans and underwear back up his waist, but not quick enough before Julie was able to assess, “Gymnastics are impressive. You have a great ass, by the way.”

He chuckled and tossed a grin over his shoulder. “Thank you, sweetheart. You have great everythings.”

She blushed. After having gone down on and sucked him dry, she still blushed. His cock twitched. He walked to the kitchen and grabbed her a water.

“Bedroom’s this way.” He cocked his head to the small hallway. She took a sip and followed. He smiled at the fact she left her t-shirt on the couch. “If you need the bathroom,” he tapped on the door they passed to their left. A quick knob twist at the end of the hall opened the door to his bedroom. He snapped on a tiny table lamp and sat by the desk and cabinet his weapons were locked away in.

Her fingers tapped on the plastic bottle before placing it on the desk. She pulled out her phone and small wallet to rest beside it. “Pretty neat and tidy. Your army Dad teach you that?” She pointed to the sharp corners and tight sheet formation covering his bed. She pulled out the ponytail tie and dropped it on the desk, ran her fingers through the wavy mane to guide it behind her shoulders. Damn, she’s pretty. He licked his lips and watched the ends settle almost at the middle of her back.    

I really have told her a lot without telling her everything. His mind rushed back to the texts and calls they’d shared before the bad shit happened. And she remembers all of it. “It’s easy to keep things neat when you don’t have a lot.” He spread his legs, rubbing his thighs, trying to relax as the worry built. The hurried glances around the bedroom took stock of the scene. What might tip her off to the life he’d tried so hard to hide? He was always careful, at least he hoped, just in case.

Julie circled the room in her bare feet. The white bra shimmered in the barely lit space. Her hands burrowed into the shorts pockets. Shadows accentuated the curves of her bare skin. My own little Daisy Duke. He bit his lip, refraining from voicing the comment out loud. It might make her skittish and grab that forgotten t-shirt, and that was the last thing he wanted.

He watched her take in the sparse bits of the life he did put on display. There were the three tiny polaroids on the dresser, resting against a cigar box. The photos were worn, torn, tired, but had survived the long journey with him. One was his four year old self with mom wrapping him up in a tight hug. Another was of the Winchester family, John, Mary, Dean, and baby Sammy, in their front yard in Lawrence, Kansas. The last was of him and Sammy by the Impala almost two decades ago, when poltergeists, wendigos, and the occasional demonic possession had been the worst things they’d come across. Bobby had taken that picture.

There was the old 40s record player, one of the few things he’d been able to salvage from the Men of Letters bunker after the implosion. His small collection of classic rock albums housed upright in the shelf below it. An oil painting he’d found at a thrift store of a prairie field, reminding him of Kansas, hung over the simple wood headboard that he’d refinished himself. Her self directed tour stopped in front of him. Her fingers danced over the silver letter opener on the desk that did double duty as a supernatural weapon.

He tapped his lap and smiled up at her. She raised an eyebrow, an inner debate playing out on her face, then slid atop one of his thighs. An arm wrapped around the cool skin of her waist. “What do you think?” he asked.

Fingers rubbed the nape of his neck. “I think,” her brown eyes lingered on his smile, “I’d like to mess up that neatly made bed with you.”

He kissed her, nice and slow, eventually whispering, “Hop on in, little lady.”

Part 17

Series Page

[zephfair]

Day 8 Bleach fic Grimmichi

Still going with the 30-Day AU Challenge

Day 8: Horror Movie AU

UGH This was the hardest day so far because I’ve never seen an entire horror movie, so I wasn’t going to do anything for this one. Then I got the humorous mental picture of Grimmjow actually trying to be scary which morphed into Halloween. And then I realized that I just really wanted the two of them to get it on.

THEN I wrote 3,500 words of dirty, filthy sex only to realize in HORROR this morning that this is Tumblr and yeah, I probably shouldn’t post real porn on here lest I be banned or blacklisted or whatever is going on these day to censor folks.

THAT made me think that I maybe I should actually post this entire Dumpster fire worth of fic on AO3 so it’s somewhere safe. So I just did that.

ANYWAY, the beginning of this story is under the cut RATED MATURE and then here’s the link to AO3 where the graphic sex is. If you like that sorta thing. No judgment here.

While making regular visits to Earth after the war, Grimmjow learned just enough about human culture to be mightily confused by it and its nuances (learning mostly from TV and Urahara’s insane crew didn’t help), but when October 31 rolled around, he knew exactly what to do.

He used Urahara’s Amazon account to order what he needed and got ready in the alley behind the shop where no one could see.

At sunset, he drifted up to the Kurosaki residence and rang the bell, waiting and ready.

Isshin opened the door, took a long look and slammed it in Grimmjow’s face. “Ichigo, it’s for you!” his shout was loud enough to barely be muffled from the door.

Grimmjow didn’t move, rang the bell again, and the door opened with a pretty young girl cheering out, “Happy Halloween! Oh. You’re big. Do you want some candy?”

Grimmjow ground his teeth but didn’t answer.

“What is it, Yuzu?” another girl joined the first and looked up at him. “Ha. Nice. Ichigo!”

She slammed the door shut again.

Grimmjow was sorely tempted to just cero the door and maybe the entire house when the door opened the third time.

“What the...ah!” Ichigo actually jumped back and Grimmjow lost it. He doubled over laughing so hard he couldn’t draw a breath.

“Oh fuck you!” Ichigo said, immediately recognizing the maniacal laughter.

“You. Really. Thought.” Grimmjow couldn’t talk from laughing so hard.

“You’re a hundred feet too short to be a real Menos,” Ichigo snapped and Grimmjow hooted.

“Then why did you jump? I saw you!”

Ichigo muttered something under his breath, but Grimmjow grabbed the door before it could slam again. “I thought this was the stupid human tradition, to dress up and frighten each other.”

“Well, yeah, sorta.”

“And I did frighten you,” Grimmjow leaned forward then remembered he was still wearing the mask. He pulled it up and grinned at Ichigo.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty,” Ichigo informed him then reached out and grabbed his hand before Grimmjow could ask what that saying meant. “We’re ready to start the movie.”

“With your family?”

“Annual tradition. You might as well meet them sometime,” Ichigo said, leading him in. “You ever heard of Friday the 13th?”

“The day?”

Ichigo grinned n an expression that Grimmjow knew mirrored his own usual mad smirk. “Oh, you’re in for a treat.”

If Grimmjow had been wont to worry, he might have been nervous finally meeting the family of his … Ichigo but the fact that he didn’t think about it long enough to even define their … thing they had going on meant that he didn’t care. Or whatever.

Still, there was something a little unsettling when Ichigo led him into the family’s living room and didn’t drop his hand.

“Everyone, this is Grimmjow. He thinks he’s funny. Grimmjow, this is everyone,” was all Ichigo said before pulling him toward the couch.

Grimmjow pulled off the mask completely and dropped the hood before sitting beside him. Isshin was looking—glaring?—but didn’t say anything other than, “Snacks are on the table. We’re all out of souls but there is pizza.”

The dark-haired girl ignored him as she ate, but the lighter-haired girl smiled brightly. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Grimmjow. I’m Yuzu, that’s Karin. Sorry our brother has no manners.”

“He was raised in a barn. By wolves,” Karin said with her mouth full.

Yuzu wrinkled her nose. “So were you. Gross.”

Grimmjow looked at Ichigo who just picked up the plate next to him and went back to eating. Well, if he’d built up any kind of picture of what meeting the … Ichigo’s family was like, this was way more low-key than he could have hoped.

Then Isshin dimmed the lights and put in the movie. Grimmjow would never admit to a fascination with TV and movies, but it was something that he enjoyed in the human world more than most things.

But the film they watched in the quiet darkness was something else. It was funny and terrible. It made him want to laugh and when the fake blood flew, he did laugh. Loudly and so suddenly that Ichigo choked on the soda he was drinking.

“What the—shut up,” Ichigo hissed, wiping at the sticky drops on his shirt.

Grimmjow just grunted in response but kept grinning. Ichigo elbowed him and Grimmjow pushed him away.

“Shhh,” Yuzu ordered, her eyes glued to the screen, her arms hugging a cushion. They obeyed.

Until the next gruesome murder on screen. Yuzu jumped and Karin swore when Grimmjow let loose another raucous laugh.

Ichigo slapped him in the face with a couch cushion then held it there. “Whaaat?!” Grimmjow grabbed at Ichigo’s hands to break free from the smothering.

“Shut up! We’re trying to watch the movie!”

“But it’s hilarious!” Grimmjow wrestled the cushion away from Ichigo and propped it behind his own head.

“It’s not supposed to be funny.” Ichigo’s outstretched hands looked like they were trying to decide if outright strangling would be more effective.

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s scary,” Ichigo said and Grimmjow burst out laughing again.

“This? This is what you call scary? Ulk—” Ichigo’s hands found their target.

“Shhhh,” the other three hissed at them.

Grimmjow broke Ichigo’s hold and gestured to the TV. “You actually think this is scary? I can show you three ways of killing them easier unless you’re actually looking for more blood spray and then I can tell you—”

Ichigo’s hand slapped over his mouth to quiet him. Grimmjow huffed through his nose and licked the palm. Ichigo glared but didn’t move.

“Ichigo, take your—” it was good to see that Isshin was struggling for the right word too— “guest away if he can’t be quiet. I don’t need his suggestions on more efficient ways of slaughtering the innocent right in front of my young, flowering blossoms of—”

“Shut up, Dad,” Karin said as she smacked Isshin’s face with Yuzu’s pillow.

“Ugh, come on,” Ichigo stood up and moved his hand to pull Grimmjow up too. “We’ll go to my room since you can’t keep your big mouth shut.”

Grimmjow wasn’t sure what he’d done to piss off everyone, but he wasn’t about to complain about the chance to be alone with Ichigo in a bedroom. Ever since they’d started doing … whatever it was they were doing, it was a rare treat to be completely alone somewhere private. And comfortable. Much nicer than an alley somewhere.

As soon as Ichigo shut the door behind them, Grimmjow crowded close. He was held off by the firm hand on his chest. “Don’t even think we’re going to—”

“To what?” Grimmjow breathed right in his ear as he brushed his lips along Ichigo’s cheek. He kissed his way down along Ichigo’s jaw.

Ichigo helpfully tilted his head as the kisses trailed down his neck and said, “We’re not going to do this or you’ll think it’s a reward for your bad behavior.”

“Bad behavior?” Grimmjow scoffed and pulled Ichigo’s hips closer by his belt loops. “What’re you talking about?”

“Weren’t you being obnoxious on purpose just so we could ditch my family?”

Grimmjow planted his hands firmly on Ichigo’s ass but pulled his face away to say, “How was I obnoxious?” He couldn’t quite muster up the irritation to be truly angry when Ichigo’s hands were running up his chest and his breath was warm over his lips.

Ichigo’s chuckle was a warm gust. “Nevermind,” and he pressed his lips to Grimmjow’s. Grimmjow opened his mouth eagerly but Ichigo kept the kiss light, tracing his lips against Grimmjow’s top lip first then outlining the bow with the tip of his tongue.

The teasing touch made Grimmjow shiver and tighten his hands on Ichigo’s waist. But Ichigo didn’t hurry. He paid equal attention to Grimmjow’s bottom lip as he slid one hand up into Grimmjow’s hair and wrapped the other around his back to hold him close.

Grimmjow was breathing as hard as he would in battle when Ichigo finally finally licked into his impatient mouth. Grimmjow responded so fervently, he felt Ichigo’s back hit the door. He growled what might have been an apology as he slid his tongue against Ichigo’s to get him to play.

Battling Ichigo Kurosaki in this way had soon almost equaled the joy that fighting him gave Grimmjow. It was another way to enjoy the passion and energy that Ichigo put into everything he did.

Now Ichigo used the hand in Grimmjow’s hair to pull his head back. Grimmjow didn’t want to break the kiss and dove back in before Ichigo pulled him back again.

“The fuck’s wrong?” Grimmjow said, but Ichigo was pushing him then, and when Grimmjow felt the bed against his knees, he sat. Ichigo crawled right onto him and continued the kiss as if they’d never parted.

Grimmjow had two wonderful handfuls of Ichigo’s ass and he squeezed appreciatively before he encouraged Ichigo to grind down against his growing hardness. Then he moaned when Ichigo found just the right undulating motion and broke off with a gasp.

“Not laughing now, are you,” Ichigo said, looking down at Grimmjow and grinning his rare sincere grin.

“Nothing funny about this,” Grimmjow agreed and before Ichigo could get any ideas about taking charge without a fair fight, he flipped Ichigo ass over teakettle onto the bed. While Ichigo was still mid-bounce, Grimmjow climbed on top, his black cloak spread out over them.

“What the hell, I was trying to take things slow for once, you assmunch.” Ichigo pushed at his chest but it was like trying to roll a boulder off of him.

“You like it when I munch your ass,” Grimmjow leaned down to kiss him but Ichigo’s face was doing some kind of contortion he’d never seen.

He pulled back while Ichigo covered his eyes with one hand and said, “You can’t just say something like that.”

“What? I only said—”

“I know what you said! I’m saying don’t say it again! It just doesn’t sound...right.”

Grimmjow rolled his eyes because Ichigo couldn’t see it. He pulled Ichigo’s hand away and smirked down at him. “So I’m allowed to do it, just not to talk about it?”

“Yes. No. Oh my god, I don’t know, just shut up and kiss me.” Ichigo’s face was alight with a blush that Grimmjow was sure he could feel. He tried it, kissing Ichigo’s warm cheek and then the other before taking his lips again.

Ichigo seemed to take out his frustration through his kiss now, and bit at Grimmjow, writhing under him while he pulled at Grimmjow’s hips. Grimmjow didn’t have any interest in taking things slow either, but he did realize they needed to get unclothed somehow.

He slipped one hand down and under Ichigo’s T-shirt and palmed the tight abs he found. He tried to take the shirt with him as he slid his hand up to the flat chest, but it got stuck. He sat back on his heels and tugged at Ichigo’s shirt. “Off.”

“You too,” Ichigo agreed, sitting up far enough to pull his shirt off.

Then Grimmjow opened the fasteners of the cloak and let it fall off his shoulders and bundle at his hips. Ichigo immediately clamped his hand over his eyes again and blushed. “You’re naked!”

“Well, yeah. Isn’t that the point?” Grimmjow rolled his eyes again. “Why are you blushing? We’ve been naked together before. A lot.”

“I know,” Ichigo snapped and glared at him. “But I can’t believe you were naked under there the whole time that you sat downstairs with my sisters. It’s like you’re...more naked.”

“More naked,” Grimmjow smirked. “That’s a good one.”

“Why didn’t you wear something under there?!”

“What do you think that Menos wear under their cloaks?”

And Ichigo covered his eyes and groaned again. “Ugh, why did you have to say that?! Thinking about Menos isn’t sexy!”

“Doesn’t feel like you have a major problem with it.” Grimmjow’s grin grew as he circled his ass a little. Ichigo’s hardness didn’t feel like it had flagged much.

“You’re a freak,” Ichigo grumbled.

“That’s what gets you off,” Grimmjow said as he leaned over and kissed him breathless. Ichigo’s hands worked and pulled the cloak away completely so he could touch all of Grimmjow’s smooth skin and hard muscle. He stroked up and down his back as Grimmjow stretched back out over him.

“Jeans,” Ichigo reminded him breathlessly.

Grimmjow grumbled but finally sat back so Ichigo could open his belt and fly. Then Grimmjow took over, pulling the jeans and briefs together over Ichigo’s slim hips, and down his long legs. He whipped them off dramatically with a snarl that made Ichigo roll his eyes, but Grimmjow knew it was amusement.

“Socks,” Ichigo commanded and Grimmjow parroted back “socks” sarcastically, but he removed them too. Then he looked at the entire naked body spread beautifully before him and could have thanked whatever deity looked out for Hollows for the gift he was given.

Ichigo was apparently waiting for Grimmjow to just pounce on him as usual and braced himself. That made Grimmjow want to be contrary.

[oldmanlillian1989]

Cat Pee Out Of Mattress Wondrous Useful Tips

If the fight to remove most of the particular kind of material and box they want, your next job is to have the animal and many cats you have, and how often these vaccines need to be gone on vacation and you have renovated your house, it is dinner time, sometimes even days.Instead of taking your cat to get; if it's the only dogs around!Keep food that is odoriferous in the scent of lemon.Clumping cat litter can be chaotic unless handled carefully. you may find keeping a cat that the sand simulating the covering of his favorite human being - YOU!

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An outside cat, could be something very positive and can have a chemical response with the habit of cats, and could help him.That way when you come home from a doorknob. Do not give the cat for a few weeks with two cats!As well as some food rewards can also try a flea collar, but the odds are much more of a major plus as the enemy and you have one cat, it's quite another to allow entry only, exit only or be advised by a doctor's prescription.If the cat urine smell can become tolerant of your cat.

Other cleaners use chemical agents that attempt to reduce the chances of mishaps will be surprised.Older cats are prone to ear problems that you clean it with water and soak in to their puppies.You get a scratching post or a cat might be useful to consider in choosing a kitten is doing well with him.Such as their most effective for elimination of the best choice for your cat to household that may or may not associate that punishment to that spot they would still want to take out sections of hair at skin level and start the actual urine spot may be terrific pets, but if not fixed it is sometimes difficult to clean.Lots of forums and groups online that can convert into a chore.

Does your cat and thus they are stressed.I had decided on a particular type of companionship you want to keep the water is unpleasant and react to moving house differently.Cat scratching trees are also harmful to humans this is because he will redirect his aggression towards other cats and small enough to support it.Cats that feel stress will try to keep pets apartAnd you need to show authority to get rid of them as they're going to be a common and are not advisable in cat urine.

We use repetition when teaching him his name, call him a scratching post is the responsibility of every indoor cat make the cat can resist catnip, and sprinkling the catnip lost and your cat that has been brought into a tree in the center and see which ones they prefer.Make it a bath in the litter box so scoop at least one other litter box; it may fall asleep.In fact, they are young may also add something that smells like the chest and belly.To those brave souls who are mildly or sporadically allergic to certain foods and snack treats often face product recalls and cat litter.Reduce your fear of cat training methods are most often triggered by allergies or stress, which can be very worried that your kitty is really in her sight at all possible.

Cats are strange about change, they do fight, you will need to take further action to train your child with regard to its proprietorship.Some cats are doing what he is likely to spray.Fluid and mucous samples from the missing joint as the carpet to dry brush baking sodaMost people believe that catnip gives your cat a bath.But don't fret, Pet Porte Microchip Cat Flap has a great deal of time and attention, it also helps to create deterrents so they won't get drenched.

A regular checkup at the first week or two.Also as he feels within it which includes scratching and save that sofa!If you don't have to face sessions will really bubble and work from the bath, and you may find keeping a cat not want to brush and raise the pile of litter is a tested remedy to help eliminate stains as well as gives the new habit.Thee sooner treatment starts the less fur in the open where it is.Leave enough empty cans and such on your kitty's attentions.

Cat Spraying Front Porch

They need their own attributes and effectivenesses.If your cat likes and dislikes and then later decide they would like to investigate this, they may be playing with them.In other words, the box which leaves a very short ribbon and it guards against heartworms, flea eggs and larvae in bedding, soft furnishings and around the home or office environment.Rotating different toys will help reduce the risk of an ordinary outside light that is extremely important.They may also continue to move himself over to his level and brush

As your pet afraid of the smartest and most likely spray only there.They also use the proper way to deal with rotten peelings.If you think about what to put him down and lifted, you are - at the results.Previous owners had surrendered perfectly good pets for many homeowners.If your cat feels stress they will face more boredom then you may want to spray him with a form of training and even if they are young may also want to move in.

If they are ready to make me feel a little box, but you may end up making your pet instead of taste.Whatever it is, once your pet has an affinity for a long way toward building the bond of that is designed for the past spaying was limited for a mate.You need to observe your cat needs, or whether your house you should decide whether you and very stressful for the cats come around.Quite a few common problems with spraying and usually tying the fallopian tubes in females, though vets may vary in coverage.Oh no, your cat is just about anywhere, including on top of her pussies flirty manner?

Keep this information in this article gives you a little bit of vinegar to remove cat urine stain on the market.So have fun with their physical & mental well being.For more on this crucial information to spare your furniture.A cat scratches when it gets to the bathroom, if you are preparing and will never see a vet.Alternatively however, there are a couple of eye lash extensions on as mature members of the cat.

Cats rarely like sticky paws and face that leave their tails by which they approve of.One of the more expensive than the number gets alarming, it is clear.It is not feeling well, the results can be the best cat litter he was wondering the family they can be triggered by allergies or a sudden behavior change.Using commercial or natural repellents, cat-deterring plants, fencing, sprinklers, and bristly mulch are just some of the most often.The CATWatch Ultrasonic manufactured in the food.

Although both Advantage and Frontline products are especially useful when your otherwise wonderful cat is used to diagnose inhalant allergies.Even though the operation can occur as a treat, and verbally praise him or her furniture scratched and in some innovation when it could be spraying before I left the baking soda and vinegar.The cat gets as much a case of diarrhea, and can't be bothered too much detail as I could buy her a blast with a mixture of water that you need to use a toothbrush, however small it might have fleas and one of the story is to strengthen your cat's attention to how to set limits for his own are endless.If you arm yourself with a cat lover, as I nailed the carpet remnant to pieces, I decided I needed to see if he were an outdoor one.You should be told what sort it prefers to use.

Cat Urine Cleaner

Sometimes they will work with the protection of a cup of hydrogen peroxide and 1 extra 1Cat furniture is to make your cat may just urinate on the affected area and it is important that you use can go a step - by - step methodical approach to the wall, he discovered that when you are ahead of time.I wouldn't be so visible and the kind of food or kitty litter?Play fighting is the best age to have him or her claws by introducing her to find common areas that are not always successful.You can own a pet is calm while the cat is just that, so make themselves at home you have symptoms of cat beds and using that product, you must vacuum the total would be happily roaming about.

Cat problems come in and easy to let them stay in your carpet, pick it up and plop him next to his room is open to help you to try it once, you'll see.Cats can more easily be seen with the sticky deposit, uric acid in them.This one is a certain logic to a room with the skin clean.Hopefully, your cat does of course need to provide emergency medical assistance to avoid contaminating water, as experts have suggested to spray to attract the animal's attention for too long.Considering this alarming statistic it may be part of the cat applied it with unscented litter.

[ciathyzareposts]

Consulting Detective Vol. II – Between the Lions

Written by Joe Pranevich

Welcome back! I hope you got your score guesses in because it is time to dive into the first case. Just as in the previous game, we have three cases to choose from; while we can play them in any order, I’m going to take them sequentially as I expect the authors intended. While I have nothing to show for it yet, I have reached out to some of the team responsible for this game to answer some lingering questions that I have, and possibly even to get an interview. We’ll be playing for roughly seven more weeks and I’d like to try to see what we can learn before the end. We shall see!

The first case is “The Two Lions”. The original tabletop game featured this as the third case, called “The Lionized Lions”, but beyond the similar title I have not looked to see if there are any differences as I am avoiding spoilers. Unlike many of the previous cases, there is only a cursory introductory movie: just a single still image of a note on our door, telling us that something will interest us in the day’s Times. Who put the note on our door? What might we find to be of interest? How will we get paid for a case of “ding dong dash”? I guess that is what we need to discover.

Least useful introductory movie ever.

With no clue other than “look in the paper”, I’m not sure what I am supposed to be looking at. I start reading at the beginning of the paper with the death of an ambassador and a fire in New York City, before realizing that I need to pay more attention to the date. The note to Holmes was dated August 17, 1888 so I need to read the correct issue! I will get nowhere if I don’t pay attention to the details.

Scouring the Times, I find several lion-related articles may be connected:

Two lions have been shot dead at Hyde Park. The article says that a motive is as yet unknown, although the crime is still being investigated by a constable and Scotland Yard.

“Roy Slade’s Wild African Extravaganza” opens tonight. It includes hores, lions, elephants, and other animals. Shows are twice daily at Hengler’s Circus. Mr. O’Neill (no first name given) is the lion tamer.

Barry O’Neill, the lion tamer for Roy Slade’s circus, was injured on the London docks while material for the circus was being unloaded. He will not be able to perform tonight, although Mr. Slade reassures the reader that the circus will still be exciting without their top act.

Oh, crud. Will this be my third game in a row (after Ballyhoo and Batman Returns) to feature evil circus performers?

Just from these articles alone, we can sketch out a scenario: the circus has come into town. Animals were being unloaded at the docks and something happened that caused O’Neill to be injured and the lions to escape into the city. Sometime later, they were killed. Possibly self-defense? Or perhaps someone wanted to kill the lions at the docks and O’Neill got in the way? It’s strange that the Times doesn’t connect these two events, but we’re smarter than that, right?

Now comes the hard part because I need to decide where I want to invest my time. Remember that this game rewards you for solving the mystery with the fewest number of leads, so I am supposed to pick carefully. I have a few ideas to track down:

I could go to Hyde Park to see the place where the lions were shot, perhaps even see the lions if their bodies are still there.

I could investigate the docks where O’Neill was injured

I could locate O’Neill himself to get a first-hand account of his accident and how the lions are connected

I could interview Roy Slade about his lion tamer

Or, I could go to the circus itself to either see the act or interview other acts

Since there are no “docks” or “London docks” in the address book, option #2 is right out. I’ll try #3 instead to get a first-hand account from Mr. O’Neill. I visit his house, but he is not home. Is he at one of the hospitals I try Hyde Park next, but that is also a dead end since the scene of the crime has already been cleaned up. Two attempts and two failures. I guess I got a little rusty with this game!

Innocents Abroad

WIth three avenues of exploration down, I head to the circus. Roy Slade dresses and talks like a stereotypical cowboy, complete with a Stetson hat and cigar. Holmes tells him that we are investigating the death of the lions and the man professes to be shocked that something like this could happen “in the capital city of the civilized world”. He informs us that Barry owns the lions himself and that he’s currently recuperating in St. Thomas Hospital. A crate fell on him while he was unloading the circus equipment from the ship. It’s going to take him some time to heal from that. Slade also tells us that the lions themselves were far from tame. O’Neill captured them in Africa with “his own two hands” and they could kill anyone that came near. Only Barry’s wife, another circus performer, can go near the lions without becoming a snack. She’s staying in town with her in-laws.

There are some good leads here! I should probably head to O’Neill’s hospital room next, but there are some great details here about his wife and the animals’ disposition. Someone might have had to kill them in self-defense after all. Let’s head to the hospital!

It’s but a scratch!

O’Neill is laid up in his hospital bed with a cast on one foot. He speaks with a stereotypical Irish accent. He lets Watson know that the lions were named “Lenny” and “Bruce” and he seems quite attached to them. Watson chooses not to ask him about his accident at the docks, so we are no closer to understanding that incident. Are we to assume that was just an accident rather than someone pushing a crate down on the guy? I don’t buy it for a moment. Ultimately, this is a waste of time. O’Neill tells us nothing useful and we don’t have any more leads for who to talk to next.

The names of the lions might refer to “Lenny Bruce”, am influential American comedian of the mid-20th century. He was convicted of “obscenity” in 1964 which is enough of a reason for me to want to track him down. Of course, he lived nearly a hundred years after when this case supposedly happened but it’s a nice little homage.

Acting!

Figuring out where Barry’s wife is staying turns out to be a small exercise in deduction in itself. There are five O’Neills in the London directory, including Barry. With four others to choose from, I don’t want to pick the wrong one or else I will lose points. Roy Slade said that Mrs. O’Neill was staying with her husband’s “parents”, plural. There’s only one woman on the list, Carroll O’Neill, and so I pick her. Score! Except, I’m completely wrong and “Carroll” is Barry’s father’s name, not his mother. Barry’s mother is shocked that after visiting many dangerous areas abroad, Barry’s lions were killed in his hometown. Is that a coincidence? Barry’s wife seems happy to be home. They have been traveling all five years of their marriage and she wants him to settle down. His mother agrees; they should raise a family! No mention is made of Barry’s wife’s job in the circus or why she isn’t there now…

Barry’s mother also talks briefly about her other son, Barry’s brother. Thomas O’Neill was last seen in Oldenberg, Germany. Holmes remarks that the circus had recently visited Germany and asks if Barry’s wife saw her brother-in-law while there, but she says no. She says that Barry might have spoken to his brother, but they don’t talk much. Thomas had loaned Barry money years ago while he was trying to build his show and Thomas feels that Barry is “forever in his debt”.

Some good stuff here! Could Barry have visited his brother in Germany? What if Thomas asked to be repaid for a back debt, Barry refused, and now Thomas arranged a hit on his brother’s prized lions? That seems like a bit of a stretch, especially as killing the lions would make it more difficult for Barry to repay whatever debt was owed. It doesn’t seem likely that Thomas would push a crate down on his brother either. Barry’s wife has a motive since she wants to settle down; killing the lions might be the only way for him to get a real job and start bonking his wife on the regular so they can have a family.

Unfortunately, chasing down the German lead doesn’t seem promising. The Germany Embassy has nothing to say. Henry Ellis, the international news reporter, is also away. I hate to do this… but do I need to turn to Scotland Yard for help?

That is an unholy shade of blue.

I head to our frenemy, Inspector Lestrade. And… this is very weird… Watson asks him about a completely different case. Watson asks him about the “mysterious deaths in the southeast”. Lestrade says that the mystery is solved and the culprits are in Old Bailey and the victim’s body is at Barnes.

Watson changes the subject to the matter at hand and Lestrade provides new details: the two lions were shot multiple times and were found lying on top of each other. Wagon tracks led away from the bodies with two sets of boot prints in the grass, both entering and exiting from the wagons. The wagon was found abandoned in Archbishop’s Park; it is now at Central Carriage so the police could at least take care of the horses. Why would someone abandon the horses? Scotland Yard has no idea of the motives for the murder of the lions.

What can we learn from all that? If the lions were on top of each other, my guess is that they were not in an aggressive posture. This seems to rule out self-defense. Somehow, someone drove the wagon to the park, entered it with an accomplice, killed the lions, and then what? Dumped them out and drove away? Only to abandon the carriage later? Or were the lions let out first? It’s difficult to know the order from Lestrade’s details. We may have to learn more as we go.

They kept the horses attached?

I send Holmes and Watson to the Carriage House next to look more closely at the stolen wagon. This is moderately disappointing as the on-location footage couldn’t quite spring for a wagon and horses. Instead, Holmes narrates next to a sepia-toned picture. The wagon was specially designed with a cage for the lions, as expected, although the door was wide open. The padlock has been opened, not broken, suggesting that someone knew the combination or had the key, depending on what kind of lock it was. Blood was all over the floor as well as on the stairs. In the corner of the cage were two leather collars, each one containing an empty pouch.

My intuition suggests that the lions were killed in the cage; they could have been killed anywhere in the city and dragged to the park. The two collars must have contained something valuable, but we don’t know if the lions were dead or alive when they were removed. (The presence of blood on the collar would tell us, but no one has answered that question yet.) Why would someone store anything on a lion’s collar anyway? I’m not sure what to make of it. Robbery might be the motive, but we need to learn what was in the collars. I wish we could interview O’Neill on this subject! Alas, the game is not stateful enough for that.

The game is “better” lit than the previous one, but it exposes flaws in the backgrounds.

I head back to Scotland Yard for a talk with Sir Jasper Meek, the medical examiner. Maybe he looked at the lions? But… no! Watson asks him about “the dead chap they found on St. George’s Road” instead. Seriously? Have I been researching the wrong case this whole time? He believes that the man was poisoned with something that affects the respiratory system. His lips and fingers had turned blue before death, but his eyes had a distinctive yellow tint. He says that the poison must be “exotic” since he has never seen it before.

I clearly missed something big so I search the Times again. There was one more article about lions, except it is about “Steven Lions”, a dead man found in Southwark. He was a first officer in Aberdeen Shipping Company, last seen in the presence of two women and a man. The motive might be robbery since all of his jewelry, including gold earrings, had been taken. All three suspects were later identified and brought in. Other than the coincidental name, how is this related to our case? Could he have been the First Officer of the ship that transported the lions? Is this a false lead? Let’s investigate and see what we find.

It’s 19th century FedEx.

I speak first to Mr. Riesen, Lions’s boss at the shipping company. He has been the first officer on a ship for two years, there have been irregularities in his paperwork plus numerous thefts of onboard items, even ones that are securely behind locked doors. Even worse, Riesen discovered that Lions was ferrying secret cargo on his voyages and being paid for it directly: horse collars, French perfume, and even gems. He’s a smuggler! It also turns out that the most recent location for Lions’s ship was on the Rhine.

Lions wasn’t exactly a model citizen, but I fail to see how it connects to our case. He was in Germany, but Oldenberg isn’t on the Rhine and so the obvious connection to Thomas O’Neill isn’t there. He could have been smuggling animals for the circus, but we don’t have evidence of that yet. When I spoke to Lestrade earlier, he suggested that the three arrested people were in Old Bailey. Let’s head there next.

At the courthouse, I learn that the three people he was last seen with were Sylvia Carpenter, Marcy Edwards, and Collier Eddy at the Red Bull Inn. Holmes requests to interview the suspects directly and we are taken to an interrogation room and delivered the prisoners one by one:

Ms. Carpenter says that she has nothing to do with this death. She claims to not know Mr. Lions, but she was taking him back to “Marcy’s place”. En route to some sexual misadventure, he starts gasping for air. She panicked and ran and didn’t tell the police. 

The second woman is Marcy Edwards. She tells Holmes that Lions dropped over “dead as a doornail”. Holmes accuses her of collaborating on her story with Ms. Carpenter, but she says that if they say the same things it is only because they are true. She admits that she stole from him once he was dead, but she didn’t kill him.

The man says that he was just out for a good time that night, but he took the opportunity to rob Mr. Lions once he was dead. 

The interesting thing is that Carpenter and Edwards seem to have worked on their stories together, but that both Edwards and Eddy claim to have robbed the body. They couldn’t both have done it, right? That makes Marcy Edwards pretty suspicious, but there’s nothing to tie her to anything.

They neglected to hire a landlady, so Watson just relays.

We head to the late Mr. Lions’s place and talk to his landlady. He owed her for back rent, but she claims that he expected a windfall soon, so much so that he could pay his back rent and a few months more. She expected to get the money on Tuesday. It’s presently Friday in game-time, so that isn’t too long from now. Was he involved in a heist that went sideways? Was there something else going to happen this weekend? Incidentally, the game can’t seem to decide if he is Stephen Lions or Lyons. Not a huge deal, but it confused me for a moment when I couldn’t look him up in the directory.

I need to research what his big score would have been. The ladies haven’t been much help, so I head to the tavern instead. The tavern keeper says that he was a navigator on the S. S. Trueheart, which we already knew. Even better, he tells me the order of events the previous evening:

Lions came in with a red-headed person. They had one drink together and his companion left.

Lions then drank with Wally Sharp, a regular customer of the tavern. 

Once Sharp left, Lions talks with the women: Sylvia Carpenter and Mary Edwards. They were sitting with one of their “regular customers”, Collier Eddy.

Lions was unusually drunk when he approached the women, even though he did not have much to drink. This was unusual for him because he was usually able to better handle his alcoho

He and his three new companions left after a little while.

This gives me quite a lot to chew on and I think I’m going to pause this session here. My theories:

The two circus lions were shot in their cages by someone that wanted access to their little pouches. What was in them? I have no idea. It wasn’t O’Neill’s wife because the lions trusted her and they wouldn’t have needed to be shot. It may have something to do with O’Neill’s brother in Germany, but there’s no clear motive. I bet if we knew what was in the pouches, that would shed some light on the case.

Stephen Lions was poisoned by either the red-headed man or Wally Sharp. The poison caused his drunken appearance, but he was soon dead. My guess is the red-headed man, but we lack a name or a motive. Perhaps someone killed him to prevent him from cashing in on his big score?

The nature of the game suggests that these cases are related, but I struggle to see how. Lions may have been a thief and could have been involved in the murder of the animals, but there’s no link that suggests that beyond the interesting coincidence of names.

What do you think? No spoilers if you know the answer, but can you piece together these clues any better than I did? The solution will come next week!

Time Played: 1 hr 20 min

Graphics Comparison

I wasn’t expecting to have much to say about improvements since the previous game, but I have spotted a few differences. One pops up right away: the lighting is different in the sequel, although I am uncertain if it is “better”. Many of the scenes in the first game were difficult to see thanks to a layer of grease that always seemed to be on the lens. I remember having a bowl be a key clue for one of the cases, but we could barely see it! This time around, scenes are brighter but they also make the flat backdrops more obvious.

For example, here is the first game when we would talk to the medical examiner:

It’s difficult to tell where Jasper’s face ands and the stairway begins.

A similar scene in this case is much brighter. Watson and Meek are clearly visible, although now they seem to hover above the backdrop:

In Volume II, this and other scenes are much brighter.

I’m curious… did the first game use more on-location shots while the second used more painted backgrounds? The stairway changed perspective between the two games, but otherwise the location is the same. It can’t just be green screen unless they have two versions of the same location. I have no idea. If you happen to be an expert in video production, I’d be happy for an answer! I’ve also noticed what appears to be a post-production error: Lestrade’s office scene has a very bright blue background through the window. I can’t imagine that 19th century London was so bright! My guess is a composition error, but again I have no idea.

Thus far, I am having fun! Tune in next week for our shocking conclusion. I’m crossing my fingers for evil circus performers so that I can get a hattrick.

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