at the low low price of $5.99, with a 10% discount for one week! wow!
A mature queer visual novel, telling the heated and convoluted story of the love triangle between Quinn, an obsessive police detective, Elias, Quinn's direct superior, and Flynn, a poet with a very talented tongue, caught in a criminal case that spirals rapidly out of hand.
Summary:
Semi-linear narrative
5 chapters, each ~1 hour long
Three POVs
Features:
Non-Blocking choices, letting you go see more of the conversation before making a choice, or skipping it entirely
A fully queer cast
One major ending, four epilogues
Content Warnings:
Quinn & Flynn is a mature visual novel that features scenes and depiction of police brutality and sexual violence; it's not a game intended for minors
| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen | Sixteen |
In which our story comes to its close.
***
FOUR WEEKS LATER
“Is that the last of the boxes?”
Armand watches Daniel heft a box labeled ‘KITCHEN’ onto the counter. It’s probably a waste. Having seen Daniel’s cheap kitchenware—blender aside—Armand will likely just end up throwing it all out. He must admit that Daniel looks good with sweat dripping down his temples from the effort of carrying it up so many flights of stairs in the summer heat, though.
“Yeah, that’s everything,” he says. He pulls the edge of his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face and gives Armand an eyeful as he walks back over to the kitchen table where he’s left a box labeled ‘JOURNALISM SHIT.’
Armand comes up behind him as he opens the box and reveals a series of cameras and audio recording devices, which Daniel keeps in his arsenal as he pursues a story. He wraps his arms around Daniel’s middle and pulls him back to lean against his chest.
“Where do you think I should put all this?” Daniel asks him, taking out an odd-looking device Armand has never seen before and turning it over in his hands.
“This is your home, Daniel,” Armand tells him, nuzzling into the side of his neck where he can feel his pulse beating against the surface of his skin. He can taste salt as he presses an open-mouthed kiss there and revels in how flushed and warm he feels against his lips. “Put it wherever you like.”
i was literally showing my wife and algie manalore's "revenge of the druids" video and halligan had literally JUST poisoned the unhomed elderly man to steal his change when i got the text. that man was henry kissinger