horny jail crossover

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of course you have blue hair and pronouns

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You Smell Like Weed [indent]  [indent]  [indent]  [indent]  [indent]  [indent]  [indent]  [indent] I Am Weed


[icon]https://i.imgur.com/H4uv0Q5.png[/icon][nick]Valter[/nick][fd]<a href="http://simpledimple.rusff.me/">Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones</a>[/fd][lz]<a href="https://hornyjail.ru/profile.php?id=1195"><b>you</b></a> just don't know it yet but you love me and i love you the same[/lz][sign][/sign][status]meant to be yours[/status]

Herrscher of Sentience (2022-05-02 00:30)



[nick]Eirika[/nick][status]wish you well in hell[/status][icon]https://i.imgur.com/9TSDA9U.png[/icon][lz]i keep <a href="https://hornyjail.ru/profile.php?id=1194">the wolf</a> from the door but he calls me up calls me on the phone tells me all the ways that he's gonna mess me up[/lz][fd]<a href="https://simpledimple.rusff.me/">Fire Emblem: the Sacred Stones</a>[/fd]

eirika has never been fond of hide-and-seek.

playing with ephraim and lyon usually meant that they would gang up on her, leaving her all alone only to show up half an hour later and find her on the verge of tears. only years later eirika would find out it had never been done out of cruelty but just out of a huge lack of empathy, those actually being two sides side of the same coin. she'd never blame them for it, of course, for they were just children after all, and being selfish is what children do. but now she'd give them the hardest of beatings, because it's happening again. ephraim and lyon left her and now she's it.

and being it really pisses her off.

lyon had been silent for a year or two before he sent them an email lines and lines of cryptic text, looking like a really bad joke, if one didn't know him better. but even burdened with knowledge of lyon's funny habits, this message made them feel uneasy and restless, lingering on their minds for a couple of days until they finally decided to reach out to him. which proved to be quite a challenge since his number turned out to be out of service again and again every time they tried to call him. it was the last straw which made them pack their things and rush to grado.

she and ephraim used to spend their summer holidays there every year. grado of their youth was scorching hot, its sea sparkling blue like her brother's eyes and winds calmingly fresh on the skin. grado of today isn't going through the best of times, suffering from the flooding rains and sudden rise of crime rates.


(how are we even going to find him? ephraim asks, like this utterly stupid idea wasn't born out of their collective consciousness. he's avoiding us, that's for sure.

and wants us to find him nonetheless, eirika shrugs, because isn't it obvious? after all, he sent them a whole-ass message about all-consuming darkness, cosm and their major role in his grand plan. it was dumb but cute, in lyon kind of way.

we can just pull some strings, i don't know, ask his acquaintances? she offers after a long pause. easier said than done.)


lyon was a kind child, although a peculiar one. he was that kind of child who would show you a particularly disgusting bug and then spurt out every tiny bit of information he knew about it and you wouldn't do shit about it because how could you. he was cute, and gentle, and very, very fragile, like a small porcelain doll. puberty hit him hard, not robbing him of his delicate features, but adding a nice, sturdy core to it. where were his thin twigs of arms, now solid muscles hugged them tightly. he wasn't all that buff and ripped, and, unlike ephraim, intelligence was his forte, but he sure looked healthier. no wonder he's found himself someone in no time. but that was some years ago.

now knoll is some kind of a bitter ex who doesn't really want to talk about his complicated relationship with lyon but still feels obliged to help. it must be a real pain in the ass to loathe the man and yet care about him. eirika knows the feeling. still, knoll introduces them to people who might be useful in their search. eirika was familiar with some of them, while the others she'd never suspected of ever being in any kind of contact with lyon. selena, for example, looked too elegant and refined to even look at someone like him. yet knoll claimed she was a frequent guest in the past year, though he didn't know for sure what kind of business they had in common. knoll preferred to stay away from lyon's private affairs and now he regretted that he hadn't paid enough attention. hadn't we all, knoll.

but ever graceful selena couldn't help them. her deal with lyon turned out to be an inheritance matter which she, as a company lawyer, had to resolve. that's how twins found out one of the supposed reasons for lyon's radio silence.


(his father's death must've taken a toll on him, ephraim's grave tone betrays his inner turmoil. lyon really loved him, after all.

ephraim clenches and unclenches his fists like he's itching to punch a wall and eirika takes his hands in hers, gently caressing his knuckles with the tips of her thumbs. soft motions seem to calm him down a bit as he exhales quietly and nods at her with gratitude. he doesn't take his hands away after that, though.

and no one has told us, ephraim continues, baring sharp canines ever so slightly. not a single soul. not even our own father. weren't they friends?

something must've happened between them, eirika answers, choosing her words carefully. she wouldn't dare to make assumptions based on the sole fact that their father has left them clueless about vigarde's death. he must've had his reasons for keeping silence.

no wonder lyon shut himself off from us, ephraim whispers eirika's thoughts and closes his eyes. i can't even imagine how he felt. being left all alone

eirika notices how he intentionally doesn't mention knoll who still should've been lyon's boyfriend at that time. she finds his jealousy funny like it wasn't ephraim himself who evaded lyon's suggestive gazes and remarks for a long time. he had no one to blame but his own stupidity.

one more reason to keep searching, she smiles softly and squeezes his hands lightly. we really need to explain ourselves.)


their next objective was lyon's (and to some extent theirs, too) godfather-slash-mentor turned acting ceo. duessel has sported even more grey hair since their last meeting and crow's feet around his eyes have grown deeper which made him look especially tired. with amount of responsibilities he got with vigarde's passing, it's no wonder he had no sleep at all. eirika pitied the old man deeply.

according to him, lyon isolated himself from everything and everyone who could've helped him. he even might got involved with some bad guys. and while duessel made some sense (for knoll totally looked like the worst company from every parents' nightmare with his emo-like looks and sunken eyes), logically eirika understood that it was nothing more than a speculation of a man who was poorly informed of the situation. duessel couldn't really help them and they were stuck again. it seemed like the only way to find lyon was to patiently wait until the man made contact with them himself.

unfortunately, the only thing that makes contact with them is the body at the door of their rented apartment. this is where things are starting to get heavy.


(eighteen hours in the police station were the shittiest time of her life. she repeated like a million times that no, she didn't know the victim [white man in his thirties, by the way, brown hair, brown eyes, no id on him], no, she didn't hear anything, yes, they're new in grado. not suspicious at all.

you don't think there's some sort of a connection, right? eirika asks, while blowing on her coffee. between this man and lyon?

ephraim doesn't answer. he looks into the space in front of him, hands clenched together, and it's a bad sign. he must be thinking of something, he must be thinking a lot, and when ephraim thinks really hard let's say, he doesn't do it well. and he doesn't think about the consequences.

eph! eirika snaps and puts her paper cup on the table loudly. it seems to get him out of his trance as he blinks at her confusedly.

ei? he calls her, and it sounds so childlike and innocent that her heart skips a beat. sorry, i drifted off for a moment. no. no, i don't think they're connected.

but his eyes tell her otherwise. and she can't catch him in his lie.)


when eirika wakes up next morning, she hopes everything was just a bad dream. she hopes to see the ceiling of her small room in dorms, to see her friend tana. they'd go shopping, maybe order some takeout and enjoy their leisurely evening. but the only thing that greets her is chilling air of this shithole of a flat, empty fridge and a funny note. it's sticked to the mirror, her brother's handwriting illegible and partially smeared.
need to check something out. i'll be back by the evening.
she can imagine him writing in a hurry, trying not to make a noise. which is impressive, because he's never been good at being quiet.

she also knows he lied again. it's not something she can pinpoint-- it's just some sort of twin's intuition. ephraim won't be back by the evening, probably won't be back by the weekend too. but he may find lyon faster, if he acts on impulse. it's irrational, eirika thinks, as she crumples the note between her fingers, but stopping him won't help them. and she does something she's never done before. she lets ephraim go.

eirika regrets her decision half an hour later. this is stupid, just like her brother, she's stupid and she doesn't even know what to do now. she wants to cry a little and she allows herself to have this moment of vulnerability. she can't call the police for obvious reasons. she won't call anyone else, because ephraim is just like her, hardly would trust anyone in times like this. eirika considers hiding here like a little girl and waiting for ephraim and lyon (or bad news about them) finding her, but her empty stomach demands its well-deserved breakfast and eirika obeys tiredly. that's when she finds the second note, stuck between the door and the frame, like one wasn't enough.
maybe i can help you? meet me at the moonstone.
and it's so fucking hilarious that eirika laughs until someone comes out to yell at her.

of course she will come. it's not like she has another choice.

they'd better treat her to breakfast.



* [indent]  [indent] [indent]  [indent] 

he laughs and thinks to himself, fondly: oh, alright, theyre cute when theyre begging. hes almost forgotten.

lyon is something they call used to be a sweet kid with a sadness that doesnt really make sense. a pathetic display of his own potential wasted in ways that shouldnt be real, thats what they mean for real. hes anxious and high, probably, that happens sometimes, now more than ever whats your excuse, love, difficult circumstances? an unhealthy environment? he also havent slept for an embarrassing amount of hours and his hands are shaking, and that would be really sad if only valter cared but oh, surprise, he doesnt. who couldve thought, really. after all the sympathy hes shown the kid.

well, not the kid, no. lyons all grown up now. look at him - hes got himself a gun and a charles manson daddy instead of a real one. alright, alright good for him, probably. hes got all the guns and all the money and all the pretty boys, and now he wants what exactly, answers? reasons for the atrocities committed?

no no no. well, maybe. but not from valter from valter, he needs something else entirely.

not his bravery or some poetic bullshit would be plainly stupid to mistake his insanity for it. not his loyalty, too lyons too smart to look for some in him.

his obedience.
now that could work, yes.

sure, pretty boy, he smiles softly and almost whispers, a knife between his fingers and a gun to his head which will not fire. lyon is a gentle soul, after all. show me what youve got.

lyon takes a shaky breath and puts the gun down. valter crosses his legs in the chair. easy.

hes also had his safety on the whole time, which makes his cryptic lovecraftian speech peppered with demands and shallow threats even more fucking hilarious, but valter isnt the one whos gonna tell him.

the deal is simple, really. nothings fucking changed the king is dead, he muses to himself out of tune, long live the king, that pretty little boy with pale skin and bad heart who misses his father and his friends so badly hes ready to push himself in the open arms of a stranger, willingly and without real hesitation. a poor decision, of course, but he should be allowed to make mistakes even those which will lead to an inevitable destruction. preventing them wouldve destroyed the purpose.

so, the twins, valter hums after hearing him out, tilts his head and pretends to think it over. like he could say no to a treat like this. do you want me to kill them? he asks him gently. he asks him like he cares. do you want to hear their cries in the end?

no, the answer is quick. immediate. he doesnt want them to scream in agony, oh no he wants them to beg for forgiveness and then kiss him softly, and valter definitely isnt a part of that picture. lyon shakes his head. his hands look fragile. things that can be broken so easily its laughable. not them. not yet.

valter smiles.

so, his job is the same as it used to be. to make sure that things go as planned. to make sure that things dont breathe anymore.

he starts with their pictures. they love those showing the world how much they care for each other, sharing places and drinks and smiles adorable, really. their friends, then, and their closest relatives the list of people turns out to be surprisingly short, but it only makes things easier to work with. hes not the one to complain, really.

ephraim is the older one, and hes a man, therefore, an heir to their fathers business yadda yadda, they all know how this works. which makes eirika everybodys favorite second best, a dog that isnt meant to win the fucking fight but please, look at her, shes so pretty and its not like she wanted all those things in the first place, shes a great daughter and a good sister, a wonderful and supportive freundin who always has your back and oh, shes a gentle soul too, and her ex still cant get over their breakup. isnt it just fucking nice? his teeth hurt from all the sugar.

they both are adorable, really. but valter likes to play favorites, and oh, guilty as charged, he just cant stop wondering.

girls like her are fun to corner. girls like her are fun to break.

then, of course, lyon decides to be extremely boring. guides them from point to point, sends them a messenger and then another, and a note, really? now, sure, thats cute, all those hide-and-seek-cat-mouse-fucking-wolf-at-your-door little games, but boy oh boy, really. wheres fun in that?

theyre all grownups now, lyon. and grownups demand blood for their fucking breakfast.

he waits for caellah to put the note between the door and the wall and only then makes his move. theyve known each other for some time, and its a shame, in a sense hes not going to be sorry about it, of course, but he definitely wouldnt mind him breathing in a bigger picture.

but alas, he thinks with a muted melancholy, catching caellah off guard with a punch to his throat. some things are just not meant to be, sadly.

ah-hah, valter pulls him closer gently, one hand around his neck, the second holding a knife dangerously close to the skin under his chin. breathes in the scent of his cologne, purrs in his ear. be quiet, dear. we dont want to bother the neighbors.

its so close to an actual embrace, one could mistake this for it and well, thats not too bad, isnt it? there are worse ways to go, and valter couldve chosen every one of them, but he feels generous. opens him up like a pineapple can, a bottle of fucking champagne do you prefer brut or are you more of a vine girl, eirika? riesling or cabernet? put it on your fucking instagram bio next time, be a good girl.

he slices the mans throat with one clean cut and lets him go with a sigh of faint disgust. the body falls on the floor with a soft thud. he takes the note and puts it in the mans pocket, wiping the blood off the knife with caellahs jacket and stepping carefully around him, trying not to get blood on his shoes. that would be embarrassing.

he looks at his work and smiles with something close to a professional pride.
now to the easy part.

he waits for them to come back waits for the cops, too, because hes that bored, and honestly, its just hilarious, top tier comedy, really. maybe hell ask glen about the interrogation later, will buy him a beer and will promise to behave himself for some ambiguous time. to see their faces would be better, but hey he cant be choosy. not yet, at least.

ephraim finds the note, of course. hes not the bright one between them, but he can be guided just alright. valter lets him flee in his desperate search for his lost beloved, or whatevers the shit between the three of them itll be easier that way. the twins both have that adorable savior complex that pushes them forward and makes them act imprudent its probably worse when theres no one to have your back or to put a hand on your shoulder and tell you to stop just in time.

he smiles, leaving a note of his own by her door.

divide et impera.
the easy part, yes.

he waits for her at the moonstone its quiet at that hour, and both of the bartenders are tired and want to go home, and valters pretty sure tethys is asleep somewhere in the back of the place, but hes annoying, and thats what you get when you put working till the last client smiley face on your sign. hospitality was the first thing a man got punished for, after all.

or was it god himself? he feels like hes mixing metaphors here, but that cant be help.

were supposed to be closed by this time, marisa stares at him blankly, an empty glass and a bottle of whiskey in her hands.

he gives her a smile which is not the worst of his smiles, and shes awful at reading people, so it passes. i know, he says and nods at the door. but im waiting for a very special someone, so could you please not?

she frowns and probably considers throwing him out anyway, but the bars policy is against her here, and theyve known each other for years now. she can forgive him this time.

the door opens with a soft creak, and his attention is drawn to her momentarily. he waves her a hand from his seat at the bar and points at the chair nearby, pushes a cup of coffee in her direction.

eirika, am i right? he smiles at her, words sweet on his tongue, politeness in the voice cuts through his teeth. hope you dont mind me guessing your coffee preferences.

shes a simple girl. she prefers latte, but flat white is better for such mornings. he doesnt approve of her choice of shoes, though, but thats not exactly something that cant be fixed. so its alright.

heard you were looking for a friend.

he smiles at her. he smiles a lot these days.

show me the teeth, sweetheart. i know you bite.

[nick]Valter[/nick][status]meant to be yours[/status][icon]https://i.imgur.com/H4uv0Q5.png[/icon][sign][/sign][fd]<a href="http://simpledimple.rusff.me/">Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones</a>[/fd][lz]<a href="https://hornyjail.ru/profile.php?id=1195"><b>you</b></a> just don't know it yet but you love me and i love you the same[/lz]

Herrscher of Sentience (2022-05-11 20:13)


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