#Argentina heads for World Cup

[chelseajackarmy]

[getting-messi]

Messi really went from this

To this💃🏾🤩🙏🏾

[ur-mag]

Argentina ace left a bloody mess after sickening head clash as England’s Tom Curry SENT OFF minutes into Rugby World Cup | In Trend Today

Argentina ace left a bloody mess after sickening head clash as England’s Tom Curry SENT OFF minutes into Rugby World Cup Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS

[calciopics]

2023 FIFA Women’s World Cup - Coaches

Argentina - Germán Portanova

Australia - Tony Gustavsson 

Brazil - Pia Sundhage 

Canada - Bev Priestman

China - Shui Qingxia

Colombia - Nelson Abadía

Costa Rica -  Amelia Valverde

Denmark - Lars Søndergaard

England - Sarina Wiegman

France - Hervé Renard 

Germany - Martina Voss-Tecklenburg

Haiti - Nicolas Delépine

Italy - Milena Bertolini

Jamaica - Lorne Donaldson

Japan - Futoshi Ikeda

Korea Republic - Colin Bell

Morocco - Reynald Pedros

Netherlands - Andries Jonker

New Zealand - Jitka Klimkova

Nigeria - Randy Waldrum

Norway - Hege Riise

Panama - Ignacio Quintana

Philippines - Alen Stajcic

Portugal - Francisco Miguel Conceição Roque Neto

Republic of Ireland - Vera Pauw

South Africa - Desiree Ellis

Spain - Jorge Vilda

Sweden - Peter Gerhardsson

Switzerland -  Inka Grings

USA - Vlatko Andonovski

Vietnam - Mai Duc Chung

Zambia - Bruce Mwape

[love44lew]

everywhere, as long as its with you

彡drivers franco colapinto

彡genre spanish speaking reader! x franco colapinto, fic/smau

彡summary your boyfriend became an f1 driver, now you travel the world with him

彡notes im still pretty new to making smaus so please excuse the lack of order ToT.. i was also thinking about turning this into like a mini series since i ended up liking the plot more than expected while wring. let me know what you guys think!! other than that, thank you for reading ♡︎

you’re sitting on the knitted hanging chair outside your boyfriends argentina home, the sunset view was always so beautiful from this view—especially because he lived in the mountains where you could see everything. theres not a place in the world you would rather be. with your digital camera you snap a photo of the sunset, the quality of the camera giving the view a nostalgic feel. you close your eyes and take in the breeze brushing past your skin.

———

yourusername

location: puerto iguazú, argentina

yourusername digital camera in 🇦🇷❣️

liked by francolapinto, mailiaamour, and 23.856 others

comments

francolapinto ahh taking pictures behind my back !?

yourusername @/francolapinto sorry baby 🤫❤️

———

then you hear loud heavy footsteps scurrying from inside the house, causing you to open your eyes open again, glance around, roll them and then close them again. you sat peacefully for a total of five seconds before a frantic franco screams your name from inside the house, causing you to wince at the sudden noice.

“come!! quickly!” franco rushed you into the house. the two of you sat at the dinner table, you still didnt know what was happening but franco was getting a phone call and his leg was bouncing anxiously. “que??” you questioned, he quickly shushed you as he picked up the phone. you rolled your eyes, why did he call you all the way here if he was just gonna want you to be quiet. but also if he did, it must be a really important call.

he put the phone on speaker and placed it down on the table.

“is this franco alejandro colapinto?” a calm soft voice spoke from the other line.

“yes, this is him” franco said in his best english he can muster.

“you are being summoned by williams to attend the british grand prix, you will be driving in fp1.” franco silently looked at you with complete and utter shock in his eyes.

“are you available to attend?” the person asked from the other line in contrary to francos silence.

he searched for reassurance in your eyes, you nodded your head at him pointing to the phone.

“uh.. y-yes!—mm” he cleared his throat “yes, i am” he rephrased in a more collected tone. he couldn’t believe this was happening, after everything he’d gone through—everything he’s sacrificed, everything his family sacrificed, to get to this point. he’d finally made it, even if it was just for fp1, it could possibly lead to him being in a seat one day. franco finished up the phone call, his composure holding on to a thread the whole time until he finally hung up.

immediately he stood up and scooped you into his arms. he tightly held you, taking in your scent and everything you are. he’d finally done it, and he couldn’t have without your help and encouragement. when times got tough, when it felt like he’d never make it, there you were to push him on and make him feel good about himself again. he genuinely doesn’t know what he’d do or where he’d be without you. he cupped your face, his lips clashing with yours into a passionate and loving kiss. the way he kisses you always sends tingles down your spine—the softness of his touches compared to the way his mouth moves against yours. you could feel how much he loves you in every kiss, touch, or words he speaks. his love for you is only in the purest form.

“té quiero, mi amor” his eyes gazed lovingly into yours as your lips detached from each other, his thumbs softly caressing your face, taking in every feature that he loved so dearly.

“im so so proud of you papasito” you wiped the incoming tears that dared to flow down his rosy cheeks. your heart has always been with him and his goals, to see him succeed like this—even if its as little as free practice, it was another door opened for your talented man.

“venga conmigo” franco proposed, the heat of the moment seeming like a perfect time. he couldnt just leave you behind, after everything you’ve done?? he’d want you to be there the most.

“wh- what!?? thats crazy!!” you halfheartedly giggled, only response you could muster from how insane his suggestion was.

“why not? you’re always there for everything else, why not be there for the most special moment? cmon.” his puppy dog eyes are ones you could bear to refuse, his cheeks and nose reddened from all the excitement and happiness he feels. so, you agreed to go. youre his rock in all this, his biggest supporter. why wouldnt he want his favorite cheerleader to go and continue to push him on? plus, youve never been to london.

———

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—

franco went on to place p11 in his first race after london, which you were extremely proud of him. to be so close to points in a backmarker team was, to say the least, impressive. you always knew he had it in him but for his first time ever racing as an f1 drivers against the other 19 best in the world? a blessed experience.

[szarina]

hello! Your writing amuses me a lot. Could you write a story where gojo, nanami, toji or Geto find out that their partner was kidnapped and they find her with some blow and they get furious?

Thanks and greetings from Argentina 😘

BRUISES AND DEAD BODIES

ft. gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, geto suguru

content warnings ─── injuries, murder, gore, assault

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ there's lines that cannot be crossed with them and involving you is a dumb way to die.

GOJO SATORU

enemies are easier to make than friends and since his birth, danger followed him everywhere. from bounty hunters to curse users and being related or being significantly special to the six eyes and limitless user, danger was just around the corner.

satoru is strong. unbelievably strong. he has the power to tip the balance of the world and thus, he have the power to protect especially to you.

but sometimes, fate would place a cruel situation to him. you disappeared out of the blue. it's not like for you to tease him with something serious knowing he can be dramatic at times and his instincts isn't he ignores and alas, he was right. you were a captive. some group bounty hunters had ganged up for the price of his head. if he kills himself you live. that's why they have said. a negotiation but there's no such things as a negotiation for him.

only an idiot would mess to gojo satoru and they are. they think using you as a hostage for someone like him would be an easy way to get what they want but gojo proves them wrong.

he sees you bound in a chair. sound asleep. soft breaths adding to your state while your chest heaves. you're alive and it's relief not until he sees the damage they had done to you. blue eyes shimmering. casting it's glow to the precipitants and it's too late to back now for underestimating him.

adding to his hidden rage was the visible bruises and the welts to your skin. they have chosen death. no room to think as his hands cups the head on one of them before twisting it off. the hard skull was no match for gojo's strength. the head pops like a can being crushed in his bare hands and at the blink of an eye. there was nobody breathing except for him and to his lover.

he gently scoops you in his arms. your soft, plump frame against his hard ones and gojo loved the position if only it was under normal circumstances.

footsteps echoes in the silent building where once rowdy bounty hunters had gathered. it's only a shell of the former building while their corpses filled the entire space.

fluttering your lashes open, you were instantly greeted by the soreness of your body. added by the bruises stinging in your skin and a tuft of white hair is the first thing you've noticed about him.

“satoru?” blinking your eyes to adjust in your surroundings and to confirm if it was him and you weren't wrong. it was him. “glad you're awake now.” he says cheerfully. “what happened to you? me, your amazing boyfriend had to save you from the bad guys.” puffing his chest and you weren't sure how you would take his boasting.

tired and defeated. you admitted your weakness. “i'm sorry. i let my guard down.” your face casting a solemn look and gojo ignores it. partly it was his fault and you got dragged into it. since the start of your relationship with him, you're already marked as a target. knowing you are gojo's achilles hell.

“don't worry about it. let's get you to shoko.” you shaked your head. “can it wait until later?” you ask him. “why?” he replied. “i'm hungry.” gojo chuckles at your predicament. bruised and tired and you wanted to eat and of course, gojo accepts it.

“okay, okay. let's get you something to eat and we're going to shoko.”

all the things he can do for you and there's no such thing as denying the things you want.

NANAMI KENTO

veins desperately clawed to the surface of his skin. they look like kernels of corn ready to burst at any moment and it isn't the only thing that is ready to burst.

he's calm and composed. he always is. this is how he handles his profession as a sorcerer. merely a bit of being teetered to the edge isn't enough to break him. of course there are times where he loses composure but it is nothing when it comes to you.

there's drips of bloods staining your face and you're unconscious body is sprawled to the floor and nanami isn't a saint to forgive for such animosity and he breaks.

his muscles bulge while wrapping that necktie in his palms. the perpetrator stumbles out of panic and in fear. nanami's raging from inside and outside.

his fist collided in the cheek. there's a crack can be heard as the one who assaulted you was planted on the wall. coughing up blood and skull was dented like a can being crushed in a hand. it wasn't enough and nanami punches again until only a bloody pulp of a body is only way someone can recognize it as a former body. if it is what is it

“mmm... kento. 'm sorry.” you weakly mustered to speak to him. “no. don't apologize for it darling.” his once face that was clouded with rage clears up. his features softening while he tended to the wounds he can heal.

inside nanami was scared. he didn't show it. how close you are for being parted to him and he can't accept if something happens to you again. it looks like nanami have to make sure this won't happen again even if it's the last thing he will do.

FUSHIGURO TOJI

“oi, oi.” toji began to get irritated. inspecting your face in his hands. moving it left and right to assess the injuries that you had taken from your captors. “a pretty face is all she had and you come destroying it.” even with that heightened senses of his, could he not tell you can hear him.

the sorcerer assassin's eye came twitching in irritation as he looks at your state. toji wouldn't care if someone would get beat up for his fault but it is different when it comes to you. “now which one of you assholes would go first?” the cursed spirit worm vomits one of the weapons in his arsenal and toji stretches his limbs. waving his weapon like a fan and hell broke loose.

“i just wished you didn't come and get me if you're just going to insult me.” rolling your eyes at him and you winged as he pulled your arm. “i did you a favor and you need to repay me.” he casually tells you. ignoring the remarks from you.

fuck. he's toji fucking fushiguro and you know how stubborn this man is when it comes to his selfish needs. you already forgot that it was his fault that you got dragged into his dirty business. “and i'm right princess. you're face is only the redeeming quality of yours.” good heavens. you just wished you were already dead. you can't fucking stand him and yet, you're here.

“come on now.” toji grabs you. not minding your injuries and how you squirmed against him. licking the shell of your ear. “you know what i want.” he whispers. taking the reward in his own hands.

GETO SUGURU

his expression unreadable. staring at your figure that is bound and bruised. how did it resulted to this when he got you locked and guarded all the time and some bloody monkeys took their revenge on him by using you.

geto's fuming inside and he smiles. although it doesn't reach his eyes and a wall appeared out in the thin air. humongous and hideous creatures began to pry the walls to open. with a flick of his finger, they began to attack whoever their owner desired to kill.

the screams. they were loud. screeching as they begged for their lives. it was like fork being rubbed in a surface and only to produce the most irritating sound but for him. that is what he calls a music to his ears. if they have chosen to leave you alone, this wouldn't happen. anyways it was bound to. considering how he was a threat for them in a long time and it would come soon for them to target you and he hated himself for that. getting dragged by the filthy hands of the scums.

all is fine, now. he have you in his arms now and those who dared to harm you again will face him and the hell he is about to unleash him. no one would be safe from him.

he kisses your forehead. you were sound asleep from all of that. gently patting your head to soothe you was comforting enough for him.

geto walks away with you in his arms and the pile of corpses behind him.

[octuscle]

Hello Chronivac, I am a very shy person, I do not have a girlfriend or boyfriend. I am also thin and I work all day in a large, old factory dedicated to the manufacture of plastics and I have to carry a cart from here to there. I am really stressed and I have to do it. Because the economic situation is difficult, I would like to be a man liberated for one night, a sexually virile muscular male of Latin Arab or gypsy origin who heads decisively to a nightclub, where I have always been made fun of for not knowing how to dance, to be the center and soul of the night and the party, an acclaimed masculine and tasty king of the most enviable and desired dance in the corner illuminated by the moonlight, could you help me with this?

Man, I’d change everything for you. You're sitting in front of the TV. Suddenly, the screen turns black and white. But the colors in your apartment start to shift—orange, brown, pink. A psychedelic explosion of color.

On the TV, there's a report about a speech by some guy named Deng Xiaoping, Vice Premier of the People’s Republic of China, at a Communist Party leadership conference. A home computer (whatever that is) is hitting the market. And in Argentina, the 1978 FIFA World Cup is underway.

1978??? Damn, what’s happening?

Your stomach turns. You jump up and rush to the bathroom. And that’s when it really starts. Something even weirder.

Your beard starts growing—wildly, but with purpose. It becomes glorious and mighty. So does your body. Muscles swell. The bathroom tiles turn green. Your clothes dissolve into thin air.

And in the mirror stands a bearded, muscle-bound colossus, covered in hair. It’s you.

The phone rings. Your crew’s asking when you’ll be there—they’re waiting. Your outfit’s already laid out on the bed. Just need your jewelry. And then—you’re ready for your entrance.

You whistle for a cab. Off to the club.

The crowd waits, tense with anticipation. Up till now, you’ve just been chilling at the bar. But you’ve exchanged a few subtle—but unmistakable—looks with the DJ.

The first notes of Andy Gibb’s “Shadow Dancing” fill the room. You rise. Take your first step toward the dance floor.

The crowd parts like the Red Sea.

And then—you dance!

AI pic created by @ki-kink

[milaisreading]

Some words of encouragement

🌱🩷: Wrote this while taking a break from studying earlier today. Hope u like it :3

Warnings: Reader uses she/her. No other warnings need tbh. Plays out in the Manager!Yn AU. Requests are open

⚽️Blue Lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura ⚽️

The day everyone at Blue Lock has been waiting for had finally arrived. The famous Blue Lock vs Japan U-20 was finally about to happen. It was quite a big event. Not only in Japan did it get attention, but internationally, too. (Y/n) sweatdropped as Anri and Ego forced her to sit next to the president of the JFA, who looked pretty much out of place when answering different questions.

'Does this man even know what a striker is?' (Y/n) thought, quietly looking around. Hoping this pre-game press conference will end soon.

'Did I bring enough water bottles? Does everyone have extra towels? Wait, did Gagamaru bring his uniform even?!'  She felt anxiety rise in her stomach as she thought of everything that could go wrong. They only had this one chance. If they lose now, their dreams will be over.

"And I am confident in team Japan's abilities to defeat the Blue Lock team today. With all the respect I have for Teieri and Ego, their team isn't up on our level." The words caused (Y/n) to look back at the old man, her anxiety slowly fading as she fought back a scowl. Next to her, Anri had a similar expression as Ego kept his face neutral.

"What makes you say that, Buratsuta-san?"

"Well, out boys are pro-players for a reason. Blue Lock is just a child's dream of what football is."

'A child's dream?! Blue Lock?! That place is hell on earth. Half of those players would not survive a day there!' (Y/n) clenched her fists as her eye twitched, but it went unnoticed by the adults. She looked back at the cameras filming them. (Y/n) got reminded that the whole World was watching them, including the boys who were in the locker room.

"Today dreams will definitely be crushed." Teh older man ended his boasting and (Y/n) felt her cheeks flare up in anger. She wasn't going to let this slide.

'Nobody will put them down. Not on my watch.'

As Anri was about to take the microphone away from Buratsuta to talk to the interviewers, (Y/n) quickly took it, getting up from her seat.

"(Y/n)?" Anri raised an eyebrow, the girl's glare melting as she looked at her and Ego.

"I am sorry, Teieri-san, but can I say something? I won't take too much of your time." She said, looking between the two and the reporters. The said people quite surprised by the girl's action. Ego and Anri looked at each other for a moment, then slowly nodded their heads.

"Sure."

"I give you 5 minutes."

Smiling softly, (Y/n) nodded her head and turned to look at the reporters. Her heart beating crazy, her mind telling her she was stupid for this, but she couldn't keep her mouth shut. The least she could do for the guys is protect their efforts.

"Japan... Japan was never known as being this big football country like Argentina, Brazil, France, or Germany. Before entering this project, I didn't believe we had one, let alone a whole team of players who had the talent, the endurance, and the sheer will to play and play until they are the number 1 player. But I am glad I was proven wrong." (Y/n) smiled at one of the cameras, grabbing tightly onto the microphone.

"Blue Lock is a team that is a force to be reckoned with. They won't go down without q fight and they are not scared of anyone. The match with Japan's team will be finished quite quickly with a clear winner. The Blue Lock team. The players in that team are the ones who will bring Japan the highly anticipated World Cup." (Y/n) finally finished, feeling 10 times lighter after.

"And what makes you think that Blue Lock will be the ones to win this match? And the World Cup?" A man asked.

"Easy. Because they are the best players our country has to offer. And they will be the best ones in the World."

(Y/n) answered without hesitation, handingvthe microphone to Anri as she sat down.

'I believe in you guys.' She thought, looking directly at the camera from before.

'Crap... this is being aired internationally, too..' (Y/n)'s cheeks turned red in embarrassment now.

'Oh, whatever. I hope the guys aren't embarrassed by what I said.'

And the boys definitely did hear everything, but they definitely weren't embarrassed.

"Hah! Did you hear that?! She thinks I am the best!" Karasu exclaimed proudly while pointing at the TV. Kurona kept quiet as he blushed more, (Y/n)'s words repeating over and over in his head.

'She trust us so much.' His heartbeat quickened a little.

"It's not just you, gel head. She said this about everyone." Rin rolled his eyes, but it was obvious that he was as affected by her words as the rest.

"It's clear that she had mostly me in mind when she said that." Karasu said with a smug look, earning him disapproving looks from Yukimiya and Barou.

"(Y/n) clearly meant all of us, idiot... but mostly me."

"And why you, Barou?" Yukimiya challenged.

"Because I am the king here, and she knows me longer than you guys."

"If that's the criteria, then I count in that, too. Besides, she always told me she admired how fast my reflexes are." Gagamaru announced as Chigiri and Bachira chimed in.

"Don't forget us! She was always impressed with my speed. I am sure she mostly dedicated this speech to me."

"Not so fast, princess. (Y/n) always said that my dribbling skills are out of this world. And she most probably meant me on the talented part of the speech." Bachira gave the two former Team Z members a cheeky smile.

"She knows me just as long as the rest of you guys." Niko cleared his throat, causing the rest to look at him.

"And she would say stuff similar to this to me. So that speech was definitely dedicated to me."

"Hold it! Out of everyone in Building 5 I was the best one. The one who stood out the most. It's only logical that she meant me." Nagi added in, now more awake than ever.

"I am sure she meant me. After all, I was the best one in my building. And (Y/n) always liked my game play skills." Hiori smiled menacingly at the rest.

"Maybe she really did mean the whole team... it's very sweet of her. She is a great manager. Her words made me less anxious too." Tokimitsu smiled softly at the TV as Ego talked about something. Aryu and Otoya sighed in delight, nodding along with Tokimitsu.

"Such a fabulous manager. We are so lucky to have (Y/n)." Aryu smiled, just happy about the compliments she was giving them.

"Ha~ an angel! I will make sure to do a better job on the field than usually." Otoya giggled.

"Wait, guys. Calm down." Reo suddenly spoke up, causing the arguing group to look at him and Isagi, who had serious expressions on their faces.

"What?" Barou raised an eyebrow.

"Regardless of who (Y/n) was talking about, we need to stay focused. (Y/n) basically declared to the whole world that we would win." Isagi continued, causing the rest to look at each other.

"And?" Rin raised an eyebrow.

"We can't let her down. (Y/n) has a lot of trust in us to say all that. We need to stay focused on winning." Reo continued.

"And, when we win, we will get even more praises from her." Isagi finished. The last part pretty much sealed the deal for the team.

"Alright then!"

"We are so winning this!"

"You used your lukewarm brains for once."

"Let's win this thing as soon as possible!"

"It seems like they are as motivated as always." Anri giggled as she, (Y/n), and Ego stood outside of the locker room, listening to the team.

"Nothing less to be expected from them" (Y/n) smiled softly as Ego nodded in agreement.

[revasserium]

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT WITH OMI OMI PLSSSSSS I LOVE YOU

@swaggerpear replied to your post “at first sight ft. kageyama, daichi, sugawara,...���:

BOKUTOOO PLEASEEE

at first sight, pt 2

ft. sakusa, bokuto, iwaizumi, oikawa

sakusa.

the first time he sees you, he knows you’re the one. he breathes easier, the air sitting better, sitting sweeter in his lungs — the persistent itch beneath his skin fades to a dull buzz, and when you turn your eyes onto him amidst the flash of cameras and the clamor of reporters, the whole world goes silent. when was the last time that’s happened for him? he can’t remember. you smile, and world is beautiful, irresistible white noise. he smiles back. later, when he manages to find you in the swell of people clamoring to interview him, he asks if you’re new to this — he hasn’t seen you on the press circuit before, and you tell him that you are. that once, you’d dreamed of taking pictures of beautiful things; he cocks his head and smirks, his mask for once pulled down to his chin — the words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself, “so you must be glad you found me, then.” he doesn’t have time to feel mortified because then, you’re laughing, the sound trickling over his skin like rose water, like piano music, and he shivers beneath it’s touch. you nod, blushing, the color so darling against your cheeks he want to lean in and kiss you. he does do that — but not till much later, and when he does, he finds you smiling. he finds that he likes the taste of your smile, too. and that of all the things he’d thought about kissing before now — of how unsanitary it might be, of how awkward, he finds that he really doesn’t mind because, well… it’s you.

bokuto.

the first time he sees you, he know you’re the one. he knows with the certainty of a rising sun. he knows like the receding tide, like the changing of seasons — he knows with the self-assuredness of weathermen forecasting the coming of monsoon season, just along the coast, where the beaches are wide and the sands are hot. he knows, he knows, he knows. he chases down the entire length of corridor at the sports clinic, trips over his own feet, faceplants before picking himself up, asks for your name, your number, what you’re specializing in, feels his stomach leap out of his mouth when you tell him that it’s sports medicine, can’t help but notice the way you’re blushing, the pink kissing across the tops of your cheeks the way he wishes he could. and he does — about a week and a half later, cupping your face in his rough-hewn hands, all thick skin and calluses from spike-practice, but you trace them over with your soft fingers later and tell him that you love them — love the way they feel against your skin, love the stories they tell, the strength they hold, the hours and hours of determination they are a mark of. three weeks in, he tells akaashi he thinks he’s going to marry you. three months in, he pops the question. you’re laughing and crying, both, when you say yes. later, he’d proudly brag to all his teammates that he’d caught an angel in the palms of his hands, brag that it took less than a second for him to literally fall for you, because hey, it must’ve hurt for you to fall from heaven, so he should have to hurt a little too.

iwaizumi.

the first time he sees you, he’s sure he’s misunderstood — surely the universe could not have been conspiring the way it did, surely manifest destiny would not play out the way he thought, the statistics line up the numbers just so. surely — it can’t be this perfect. but it can — so he learns, when he bumps into you again, in another country no less, so far from the confines of a japanese seven-eleven, all the way across the world in argentina, where he’s supposed to be meeting up with oikawa but the jerk is late and now he’s here, his eyes caught in yours in this coffee shop not three blocks away from the olympic training stadium. you both try to ask for each others names, and then, you both fall into awkward, knowing laughter. because if it’s not destiny, he doesn’t know what it is. if it’s not fate, then you don’t know what to call it — what are the chances of two people running into each other time and time again, halfway around the entire world? he asks you out for dinner, and you don’t say no. oikawa teases him mercilessly about it later, but he doesn’t care. he never fancied himself someone to be lovesick, but when oikawa floats out the term, he doesn’t negate him. it’s a slow-going thing, but iwaizumi finds that he doesn’t mind — he likes taking his time with you, knows implicitly that he has all the time in the world — because if you’d found each other across the entire world, then what’s there to be afraid of? what more is there to worry about? you have all the time in the world — after all, isn’t that what it means to be meant to each other?

oikawa.

the first time he sees you, he does double take, and then a triple take. and later, he’d do anything to claim that it was you who chased after him, but those closest to him all know the truth — that he’d run down four flights of stairs and searched through the entire olympic arena to find you, mulling over musubi of all things — him, breathless and panting, and really, really wondering what the hell he as doing. he’s got a game later, but — well, he couldn’t really help himself. call him a skirt chaser, call him a womanizer, call him the playboy to end all playboys, but oikawa tooru has always known what he wanted. and he knew, in the blink of an eye, that he wanted you. so he’d chased after you, he’d found you, he’d turned up his charm and ramped up his smolder and you… well, you’d shaken your head and brushed him off. it’d stung, of course it had. he’d been inconsolable for weeks, but after he found out that you’re related to the famous sportscaster, he finds himself rejuvenated. he tells your dad that he’s in love with you before he ever asks you out on a date. years later, long after he’d managed to convince you out for one date, which turned into two, and then five, and then ten, and then… who’s keeping count any more, right? he stands across from you with your hands in his and tears in his eyes, he tells you — he says, y’know… the first time i saw you, in that crowd, i knew you were the one for me.

requests are open :)

[belit0]

HELLOOOOO. First of all, how are you? I hope you are doing well wherever you are, whether it is morning, afternoon or night, although I hope you don't stay up late. I apologize in advance for any mistakes, English is not my native language, I talk Spanish 😺. And, you won a new follower!

Can I make a request? Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to make it. But, you know, but 😹

Can you make a Kaworu Nagisa reader, but fem, of course. Specifically Kaworu Nagisa as he is someone attractive and relaxed, but enigmatic and with a unique depth regarding the knowledge of humans. I want to see the Uchiha's reaction to her, please! And maybe, a little NSFW..?

Thanks for reading 😸♡

Hello love! I'm great, how about you? My native language is also Spanish, I'm from Argentina! Welcome to my tiny itty bitty Uchiha corner!

As for this character, I had no idea who he was or where he came from. I conducted my little research, and I think I got his vibe even if just a tiny bit…? I didn't dare to include NSFW because I cannot write such primary reactions about a character that I mostly don't know, but I hope these interactions will suffice.

Indra

She speaks like she knows him. Not just him, but everything—his past, his burdens, the shadows in his heart. And yet, there’s no arrogance in her tone, only an unshakable serenity that irks him.

–You see everything as a calculation, Indra, but isn’t life far more intricate than an equation?

His gaze sharpens. A woman who does not fear him, who speaks of things she shouldn’t know, who carries herself as if she understands the weight he bears. Indra does not tolerate enigmas he cannot solve. And yet… he does not look away.

The flickering light of paper lanterns cast long shadows over the wooden floor, the scent of ink and old scrolls thick in the air. She stands before him, utterly undisturbed, hands delicately clasped, her breath slow and measured. Indra watches her as one watches the tide—acknowledging its presence, but unwilling to kneel before it.

–Measuring strength in victories, but true power does not need to prove itself.

His lips barely part, an exhale escaping—amused? Annoyed? Even he does not know. She steps closer, not with submission, but with certainty. He does not move, though the air between them narrows, charged with something neither of them name.

–Do you kneel before the ocean, Indra?- she murmurs, tilting her head. -Or do you wish to drown?

His fingers twitch. He should be the one asking that.

Madara

She is stillness in the middle of war, a whisper in the tempest. He cannot decide if she is naive or the most dangerous thing he has encountered.

–Always chasing power, Madara, but power has already found you. It clings to you like an old friend.

She smiles, unbothered by his scrutiny. He smirks back, intrigued despite himself. There is something eerily familiar about her presence, a quiet promise that she sees beyond the battles, beyond the endless thirst for strength. He has spent his life commanding the world around him—how irritatingly interesting it is to meet someone he cannot command.

The moon hangs heavy in the sky, and her silhouette is etched in silver. Madara leans back against the wooden railing, arms crossed, watching as she steps into the soft glow of night, unbothered by his scrutiny.

–Analyzing people as though they are chess pieces,- she muses, standing beside him, gaze lifted to the stars. -But do you ever tire of always playing the game?-

Madara smirks, but there is something sharper beneath it. His fingers trace the rim of his sake cup, slow, deliberate.

–Only when the opponent is unworthy.

She hums, turning to him, and the weight of her gaze is something tangible.

–I suppose I should be flattered that you still haven’t left.

The smirk fades, just for a moment. He should be unraveling her, yet why does it feel like she has already untied every knot?

Izuna

She does not chase, does not seduce, yet somehow, he feels pursued. Her eyes linger, and Izuna, so used to being the hunter, feels like prey.

–Your heart beats as fast as your blade moves. How fascinating.

–You talk too much.

–And yet, you listen.

Izuna grins, sharp and taunting, but she does not falter. Instead, she hums, pleased, as if he is already where she wants him. That should infuriate him. Instead, it excites him.

Her fingers brush against his wrist, and Izuna stills; not because of the touch, but because she does not withdraw. Her gaze lingers on his hand, tracing the callouses, the evidence of war.

–You move like the wind,- she murmurs, as though speaking to herself, but he knows better. -Fast, reckless, untouchable.-

He scoffs, though his pulse betrays him.

–You sound impressed.

She lifts her eyes, and the way she looks at him, studying, knowing, makes something coil hot and tight in his gut.

–I am simply observant.

Her fingers drift away, the ghost of a touch, and for the first time, Izuna curses the loss of it.

Obito

She tilts her head, watching him with interest, as if he were an intricate puzzle meant to be solved.

–You carry sorrow like a second skin, but love still lingers in you, Obito. Do you not feel it?

His mouth opens, then closes. He wants to deny it, wants to say she doesn’t understand.

But she does. It’s unsettling.

No one has ever peeled him apart so easily, and yet, she does it with a smile, like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

The air is thick with rain, the storm outside relentless. She stands beside the low-burning lantern, its glow casting shifting patterns over her face.

–Thinking you are difficult to read,- she says, voice almost lost beneath the sound of water against wood. -But grief leaves fingerprints. Even in the dark, they remain.-

Obito exhales sharply, a forced chuckle, though it lacks true amusement.

–That so? And what do mine say?

She steps closer, not intruding, but not hesitating either.

–That you are still searching.- she whispers. -For something, someone, that you refuse to name."

His fingers tighten into fists. Not at her, but at the truth she so effortlessly speaks.

Shisui

She sits beside him, her gaze heavy with knowledge, but there is no cruelty in it.

Only understanding.

–Where does the fear of being forgotten come from, Shisui? Is a river any less eternal because its waters are always changing?-

He chuckles, shaking his head.

–You’re strange, you know that?

–You enjoy it.

He laughs again, but there is something different in the way he looks at her now. She is a mystery, and if there is one thing Shisui loves, it’s a good one.

Her lips curve into something just shy of a smirk as he leans in, his breath warm against her ear, teasing.

–Such a weird being, you are. Shisui murmurs, the hint of a chuckle threading through his voice. -You look at people like you already know their secrets.-

She tilts her head, unbothered by the closeness, perhaps even welcoming it.

–And yet, you keep leaning closer.- she counters. -What does that say about you?-

His grin widens, but his eyes darken with something else—something more.

–That I like a challenge.

–And if I’m not playing?

A heartbeat of silence. Then, his fingers skim the inside of her wrist, light as air.

–Then I suppose I’ll just have to convince you.

Itachi

She speaks without hesitation, her words as effortless as breathing.

–Constantly perceiving inevitabilities, Itachi, but isn’t the future just another illusion?

His breath stills for a fraction of a second. She sees through him. Not just his actions, but his reasoning, his torment, his resignation. It should be unnerving. Perhaps it is. But there is no judgment in her gaze, only a quiet knowing.

For the first time in a long time, Itachi wonders what it would feel like to simply listen instead of bear the weight of every answer.

She does not speak. Neither does he. The silence stretches between them, long, unbroken, but not uncomfortable. She watches him, quiet, knowing, her presence a whisper against the edges of his thoughts.

Then, softly—

–Your mind is loud, Itachi.

His fingers pause where they rest against the open book in his lap. He does not look at her, but he does not turn the page either.

-You are the only one who does not fear it.

A pause. Then, she steps closer, the space between them vanishing like ink spreading through water.

–Perhaps,- she murmurs, -because I know what it is to carry a weight that cannot be put down.-

A single breath. Then another.

And for the first time in a long time, Itachi does not feel alone.

[h3rmess]

guys the biggest letdown in blue lock is the fact that kira got killed off (he is not dead he's just gone and I'm mourning)

LIKE THATS THE POTENTIAL MAN OF BLUE LOCK FR. HES OUR MEGUMI

I actually miss him so much he was such a cutie

honestly I'm calling it right now once the NEL finishes and they go to the U-20 world cup, they're gonna play against a country like portugal or argentina and kira is gonna be on that team seeking revenge for what isagi did to him (its literally not even his fault)

MARK MY WORDS THIS WILL HAPPEN. I USED MY META VISION TO FORSEE THE FUTURE OF THIS MANGA, AND THIS IS WHAT I'VE CONCLUDED

this makes sm sense in my head like why else would they kill off what could have been a main character. and since I'm pretty sure the whole not being able to play for the national team is strictly limited to Japan, kira may have got an offer from a really good club and could just have been training ever since and we would never know bc there's no exposure to media in blue lock.

he's so pretty I might cry

[leclercsredhelmet]

Invisible String 𓍼 Julián Álvarez

A/N: Hi! Sorry for the inactivity I’ve been busy writing and editing multiple blurbs. Recently I’ve been thinking about writing more with different athletes aside from formula one and nfl. Without further ado here is Invisible string, hope you all enjoy reading this! (Ps. I might write a part two for this one)

“Time curious time, gave me no compasses gave me no signs”

With a big sigh, you close the door and set your luggage down. Extending an arm your fingers find the light switch and the house lights turn on. You look around your grandparents' house and walk towards the windows opening the curtains. Part of you feels a little sad about coming to an empty house but the other part is happy to be close to home. Your grandparents had died a few years ago and they had left some properties to your father and he decided to pass down their house to you. He figured that instead of paying for a hotel room every time you came to Argentina you could just stay at the house.

The house was spotless and everything was exactly the same as the last time you stepped foot in the house. You smile at how quiet it is compared to the city noises you’d grown somewhat accustomed to. After a walk around the first floor, you grab your luggage and take it upstairs, the door to your bedroom is open. The space looks and smells clean, just by looking at the neatly made bed you know that the staff your dad employs to look after the house was here.Fishing for your phone inside the bag you pull it out and let your parents know that you’ve arrived okay before peeling your airport clothes off and taking a much-needed shower.

After unpacking you grab your bag and head downstairs, taking the keys from the kitchen counter you head out and lock the door behind you. Everything feels as if you never left in the first place and a smile spreads across your lips and you tap the steering wheel happily. Getting groceries takes you a little longer than expected because a lady from town recognizes you and you inevitably fall into a conversation with the charming older woman. Your hands are full and you’re too busy freeing one of your hands to retrieve the keys from your pocket to notice where you're walking.

You bump into someone and one of the bags falls from your hand, instantly you offer an apology to the stranger. “Disculpa, no preste atencion por donde caminaba” (My apologies, I was not paying attention to where I was walking) you say while bending down. “No te preocupes,” a male voice replies. Your fingers touch and you make eye contact with the stranger. Recognition flashes in his eyes and your expression mirrors his. “Julián!” you happily say and he smiles. “Y/n, no puedo creer que estás aquí,” (Y/N, I can’t believe you’re here) he says and helps you stand up before pulling you into a hug. He’s still holding onto one of your bags and you smile.

“Hace mucho tiempo que estás de vuelta?” (Has it been long since you’ve returned?) he asks you and you shake your head no. “Acabo de llegar hoy,”(I just got here today) you reply. Your accent is not as defined as his because you didn’t spend a lot of time in Argentina. Fondly he smiles at you, “Me alegra verte, hace mucho tiempo que no conicidmos,” (It makes me happy to see you, it’s been long since we’ve seen each other) he says and you can’t help but blush.

Both of you grew up together in a little town a few minutes away, your families knew each other and when you had to move from Argentina you were extremely sad to part ways with the boy. “Felicidades por ganar la Copa! Estoy muy orgullosa de ti” (Congrats for winning the World Cup! I’m very proud of you) you congratulate him for winning the Fifa and he smiles. “Gracias, siempre me decías que lo podía lograr y no te equivocaste,” (Thank you, you always told me I could make it and you weren’t wrong) he replies. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear you attempt to hug him but your hands are full.

Julián laughs and the sound makes you feel like butterflies flutter in your stomach. Something tells you Julián wants to speak but you decide to be a little bold, “Estás ocupado hoy?”(Are you busy today?), he shakes his head no. “No para nada, pasa algo?” (No, not at all. Is everything okay?) he asks a little concerned and you smile at his caring nature.“Quieres venir conmigo? podemos cocinar algo y hablar más,” (Do you want to come with me? We can cook something and catch up) you offer. Smiling he nods and you both walk side by side until you get to your car. Being the gentleman he naturally is, he takes your bags so you can open the car before helping you load everything. Carefully you drive out and you can feel him staring at you.

“Acaso tengo algo en la cara Álvarez?” you tease. (Do I have something on my face Álvarez?) He laughs and you grin, “No, solo que te vez muy diferente ahora,”(No, you just look very different now) he says a little nervously. “Mejor o peor?” (For better or worse?) you ask with a chuckle. “M-mejor aunque nunca te veías mal,” (B-Better, although you never looked bad) he says with a shy stutter. “Bueno ya no tenemos nueve años Juli.” (Well, we’re not nine anymore Juli) “No ya no, ahora tenemos veinticuatro,” he says with a chuckle. (No, we don’t. We’re twenty four now)

“Sigues en Miami?” he asks you. (Are you still in Miami?) No, me fui de Miami para Louisiana State University para estudiar literatura y luego a Londres para estudiar publicidad y editorial. Allá hice un internado y la agencia me contrató el mes pasado you say. (No, I left Miami and went to LSU to study literature and then London to study publicity and editorial I did an internship and the agency hired me last month.)

“Al fin lograste trabajar en publicidad y editorial,” he says with a smile. “I’m proud of you,” he says in English and you smile. (You finally achieved working in publicity and editorial) “Me too Juli, You’ve won everything so far, I wanted to reach out but I wasn’t sure and I’m sorry I didn’t,” you say as you arrive at your house. “It’s okay we were both busy chasing our dreams but we’re here now and that’s what matters,” he says and you smile.

With his help, you unload everything and quickly get to work in the kitchen. Julián notices the flag magnets on the fridge and smiles. “Do your parents still have the flags on their fridge like they did back in the day?” he asks. “Yup, they have the exact same magnets,” you say. He chuckles and nudges you a bit making you both chuckle. “I missed my favorite Puertorican and Argentine,” he says. Playfully you shove him, “I missed you too boludo,” you say and he throws his head back and laughs.

“London is four hours away but I’ll totally come see you if you want me to,” he says. Smiling, you nod and look for some plates, “I’d love that, I’ll even go up to Manchester for a match,” you say and he smiles. “It’s a done deal mariposa,” he says using your childhood nickname. After plating the food you sit down to eat, a plate of pasta later and four wine glasses deep you and Julián are sitting side by side on the couch catching up and splitting what’s left of the wine bottle.

“Do you remember when I used to tease you?” he asks. Giggling you turn to look at him, “Uh huh, I used to tease you too,” you reply.” It was a never-ending cycle,” he comments and you laugh. “Until you stopped and I never knew why,” you say and he laughs a little. You could feel his eyes on you as he inched closer, your knees were touching now and he was starting to lean in.

Maybe it was the wine, the reminiscing, all those years spent apart, or the same lingering feelings but you were leaning in. The gap between you was closing slowly, the tip of his nose grazes yours, and just as your lips are about to touch but your phone rings, making you pull away. Cursing, you answer it and talk to your mother. You’re nodding along and a laugh escapes Julián’s lips, your mom catches wind of it and once she finds out it’s him she begs you to hand the phone over.

You leave him to chat with your mom while you clean the dishes and glance at the clock. It’s midnight and disappointment creeps in at the reality that he might want to leave soon. Walking back to the couch you sit down and put your phone on mute and leave it on the coffee table. “Do you feel like it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other but it just feels like days?” you ask, breaking the silence. “I see you’re still a profound thinker,” he jokes and you laugh. “I do feel like that, from the moment I realized it was you it started to feel like that. I missed you a lot,” he says and you can tell he’s being fully honest.

His level of honesty was one of the traits you always loved about him. “Me too, making friends sucked because I just kept comparing them to you and I realized no one could ever be you Juli." His right hand finds yours and he taps your knuckles twice. Smiling, you turn your hand over and open your palm, back when you were kids you used to do that.

Both of you viewed it as an innocent child-like touch and over time it turned into a gesture shared between the two of you. Usually, he’d place a flower in your hand or just trace patterns with his finger in your palm. This time he had no flower to give you but he was tracing soft patterns and the touch was sending shivers down your spine.

“And isn’t it just so pretty to think all along there was some invisible string tying you to me?”

Unconsciously you had started to inch closer, you looked into his brown eyes and your mind started to race. The feelings you had thought were long gone still lingered and they had all come rushing back. Sure you had been on dates and you had a boyfriend in high school but the what if was always in the back of your mind and you’d picture what being with Julián would be like if life ever happened to toss both of you in the same place again.

It's like an invisible string is between you and now the thread is getting brighter. “Y/N, I have to tell you-” Julián stops and looks at you, his gaze lingers for a bit, and a lump forms in your throat. Suddenly his palms are on either side of your face and his lips meet yours.

The action is a little rough and sudden but once his lips capture yours it softens. Your eyelids flutter shut and you kiss him back, your hands grip the front of his shirt in an attempt to pull him closer to you and his lips taste like red wine. Slowly he starts to pull away, your foreheads touch, and your heart is racing making your thoughts foggy. Releasing the grip on his shirt you steady your breathing and open your eyes.

“Y/N this might sound crazy but I always hoped you’d come back so I could tell you that I’ve thought about what it would be like if we were older and together in a different way,” he says. He’s struggling to find more words to describe the full scope of his feelings but he doesn’t need to because you know. “Juli, yo lo se,” you say. “I know because I feel it too, I spent all these years wondering about a what-if,” you say. His hands find shelter on your hips and everything about this feels so right.

It feels as if the stars had been aligned for you long ago, the fates have conspired to put you in the same place at the same time. The certainty that you were meant to end up as you are right now with the perfect amount of years apart from each other was just as reassuring as true north. From the moment you held hands at the swing set in the park the invisible string was in place and it had already tied you to each other.

“Ya es tarde, me debo ir pero no lo quiero hacer hasta que hablemos,” he says. (It’s late, I should go but I don’t want to leave until we talk) “Entonces quédate, no te vayas” you say. (Then stay and don’t leave)

He kisses you again but it is a lot softer this time, his hands don’t move from your hips, your arms lock around his neck and you pull him in a little willing his body to mold into yours. He pulls apart and his head finds the crook of your neck. Softly you rake your fingers through his hair, silence hangs over you but it’s comfortable. Finally, his head lifts and he presses a soft kiss to your temple.

Lacing your fingers with his you stand up and lead him upstairs, you sit facing each other and hold hands while you talk about what to do next. Night draws further in and eventually, you fall asleep in each other’s arms. When morning comes you don’t hide the smile on your face, Julián smiles and presses a soft kiss to your cheek.Last night you talked about your feelings and decided to give your relationship a try.

“Juli there’s a song that I think fits us, you should hear it,” you say and proceed to play Invisible string by Taylor Swift while you drive to his parent’s house for breakfast. As you drive you can’t help but be happy that after all this time everything you have spent so long picturing and hoping to happen was starting to be your reality.

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week 2024-08-19

Tech companies will give you six interviews and think it's normal.

Listening: Got introduced to Skiltron who unfortunately I don't like very much. I'll see if it grows on me but not quite my speed, which is a shame because normally "metal and it has bagpipes" would have me from minute 0.

This is a metal band that does a bunch of Celtic-y sounds so they are, of course, from Argentina.

I think that this goes too far away from what I'm coming to metal for, their vocals are too clear. Strip out the vocal stem and I think I would like this a normal amount, but the clean vocals pull me out of it. You don't have to go full croak for it but at least growl a little.

Reading: Started up on The Tyrant Baru Cormorant which about ⅕ of the way into the book already feels like I'm getting to the end of a book which is a good and normal sign that everything is going to be smooth sailing for the remaining sections of the book, I'm sure.

Baru is so fucked all the time it's incredible, like, you can see at every point how she just cannot keep herself from playing into the Masquerade's hands because she owes all her power to things she wants to destroy.

The story is very careful to not linger too long on all the horrible things she's doing to herself and others which means that while they're not hard to spot, you feel much more like you're inside her head where these things are the price you pay for the power she wields.

The setting of "sailing around in frigates but with essentially 1920's medicine" kinda rules.

Watching: Watched Blade (1998) which is a great deal of fun. If you can't ignore old CGI you're in trouble but otherwise it's over the top in a really enjoyable way.

Masquerade settings are a lot of fun, I kind of mentioned this in the John Wick entry, the idea that there is a secret parallel world overlaid on the real one scratches some good itches, I need to find more and more diverse kinds of masquerades.

Some motherfuckers always trying to ice skate uphill! Perfect metaphor.

Also more Gundam, up to like, e32? They just got back to space for the first time since arriving on Earth. I think that sometime around Odessa I went from kind of enjoying Gundam to really thinking it's doing something special. It's really dedicated to keeping you off-balance and throwing these very thorny situations and questions at you, even as a show that has to completely ignore a bunch of its deepest questions in order to be a children's toy advert.

Playing: Picked up KSP for a couple hours, I keep on not playing it long enough to do anything interesting so I'm completely ignoring time, I'm allowed to fast forward as much as I want to make missions happen. Trying to "fill time" often kills my desire to do missions, since even a simple mission can require hundreds of days of in game time and even if you have a whole lot of orbital admin within like, Kerbin and Jool systems those only use a couple days at a time.

Built some resource scanners and chucked them at Eve and Gilly, want to try and set up a fuel refinery base on both to operate a fuel interchange where you can launch crew from Eve and refuel in orbit with fuel more economically harvested at Gilly to account for the stupendous fuel expense of leaving Eve. Busy trialling re-entry of a little rover thing for scouting ground sites

Making: Made a bunch of progress on the LED driver, writing to flash storage, updated webui, but it is currently getting stuck after running for an hour or two and I cannot figure out why. Some of these issues seem to be more power delivery related rather than actual issues so it might be time to actually set up regulators and power supply for this thing.

Tools and Equipment: You can just put cups of water in the fridge to cool down. No one can stop you. I've been filling up my Tumblr Colour Of The Sky cup with water and fridging it to help keep cool.

[star-girl69]

Ultraviolence

Natalie Scatorccio x Fem!Reader

—-

a/n: exams are crazy 😰 but i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: mentions cannibalism, mentions of death, swearing, hallucinations, panic attack kinda, mentions of kidnapping, tell me if i missed anything!!

Chapter Twenty Five - Crown of Bones

Chapter Twenty Four - Crown of Bones

—-

1996-

“People of Europe, I send you the rainbow of Argentina!”

Misty and Crystal have been singing for ages now, sweeping, and everyone is doing their best to ignore them, eating their starling soup.

You sigh and turn to the window, trying to get away from the world, feeling Natalie breath out heavily next to you, muttering under her breath about them.

But at the same time- their singing feels normal. You smile to yourself, wondering if something like this would have happened at Nationals in a hotel room the girls had remade into a party room.

Would you still be sitting next to Natalie like this?

Who would still be there?

You rub your eyes, looking out the dusty window, trying to spot Shauna coming back with the bear meat for tonight.

Antlers, white like bone, the parts that aren’t covered in blood, at least, shine back at you.

Antlers like these used to mean so much to you. They meant a win, food in your stomach, and now everytime you even think about them- glance over at the wall above the fireplace-

And you remember that night. The antlers you saw. The sounds, the taste, how good it all felt.

You’re not sure of what you’ve lived through, you don’t know what is happening in this place, in this cabin, but you know those antlers aren’t supposed to be there.

You gasp, your metal cup clattering to the floor, soup spilling, staring, staring and those fucking antlers you can’t escape from.

“Hey, hey. What’s wrong?” Natalie asks, her hands all over you, but you’re not hurt, you’re just staring at the antlers in the window, wondering why you’re going fucking crazy-

You bring your hands up to your eyes, and when you open your eyes again- there is nothing but the dusty window and the snow, the trees in the background.

“Nothing,” you gasp after a second, your lungs tight, your breath not able to come through properly. “I… I just thought I saw something.”

The rest of the cabin is silent as Natalie shifts closer, looking out the window.

She nods. “It’s alright. There’s nothing there.” She looks into your eyes, places a hand on your face. “It’s alright,” she repeats.

You nod, feeling shaky and odd.

You’ve felt for a long time like something is inside of you, the wilderness, a poisoned sapling in your liver that is just pumping you full of poison- and the more you get it the more you want it.

You shake your head and try to take a deep breath, but it comes out as a shudder.

“I’m- I’m fine.”

Natalie nods, but you know she doesn’t quite believe you, and when you glance around the cabin- no one quite believes you either.

“You’re not,” Lottie says after a moment, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. She stands up, crosses the room, and holds her hand out. “You need to breathe-”

“Oh, my God,” Nat scoffs. “She doesn’t need your bullshit, Lottie.”

“I’m trying to help,” Lottie frowns.

“I’m alright, Lottie,” you say, and Lottie takes a step back under Nat’s stare.

Shauna bursts through the door, setting down the tray of bear meat.

In a moment, everything has forgotten about you and your vision, just leaving you and Natalie in the corner.

She exhaled harshly, turning back to you after she’s done glaring down Lottie.

“You don’t need to be so mean,” you mutter, feeling like someone has stabbed the antlers through your chest, and the blood is yours. “She’s just trying to help.”

“She can go and help anyone else.”

“So who’s the thief?” Shauna asks, standing up, glaring around at all of you. No one says anything, confused as to what she’s talking about. “Someone stole some bear meat from the shed. I guess they think they deserve it more than the rest of us, which… at this point, is pretty fucked. If anybody, I’m the one who should be taking some more, but I’m not, because I’m not the fucking worst. So which one of you is?”

After Shauna’s rant, everyone is silent, and you share a glance with Natalie. She shakes her head, and you do too- and you believe her.

“Okay. Right. Whatever,” Shauna hisses.

Coach comes out of the shadows, moving to his chair in the corner, his crutches banging against the floor.

“It was probably him,” Mari whispers to Akilah, staring at him out of the corner of her eyes. “He thinks he’s so much better than all us.”

Coach stops and looks up to the sky, sighing.

“I didn’t take the fucking meat,” he glares at her. “Okay? And in case you forgot-” he holds up one of his crutches, “Not exactly nimble in the snow, huh?”

He keeps walking forward, and your breath finally feels a bit more normal, and you shake your head, not risking a glance out the window.

“But you know what?”

He stands in front of his chair, turning around to face everyone.

“If it had been me… what exactly would you do about it? Would you eat me?”

Everyone exchanges glances, and you’re not exactly sure what anyone’s trying to say-

Mari stands, taking a few steps forward confidently, like she would.

“Let’s all just chill, you guys,” Nat says, scrambling to her feet and raising a hand out to Mari. She gestures to him. “There’s no way that Coach would ever-”

“This is because of you, you know.”

You look up at Mari with wide eyes.

What the fuck has Mari done for you all?

“Excuse me?”

“Why we don’t have any meat. Lottie tries to bless you for the hunt, but half the time you’re MIA. Or when you do show up, it’s like you’re practically holding your nose.”

“Are you joking?” Nat hisses, and you stand up, feeling a little angry and a little on edge-

“What have you done, huh, Mari? Have you been hiking through the mountains in the freezing cold looking for food?”

She takes a step towards you, and you do too.

“No. You’ve been here, in the cabin, nice and warm while we were out there trying!”

“If there isn’t any game, then how did Lottie get the birds.”

“Lottie didn’t fucking get the birds,” Nat scoffs. “They flew into the cabin.”

“Because she told them too,” Mari says.

“It did happen when the blood dripped on the symbol she made,” Akilah mutters.

“We’re still not really sure that’s why,” Shauna says.

“Yeah, you see, that’s what we call a coincidence,” Coach sighs. “Okay? Those birds were just… like, confused, or had a disease or something.”

“No. If they were diseased, then we would have gotten sick from eating them,” Misty says, the broom still in her hands.

“What about the bear?”

Everyone turns to Van.

“I don’t think anyone who saw that could call it a coincidence.”

“Exactly.” Mari turns back to you and Natalie. “It all goes to show the only food we’ve had in months is thanks to Lottie.”

Natalie runs a hand through her hair.

“Then we should have a fucking contest, huh? One-on-one. We both go out. Just her and me, and at the end of the day we see who makes it back with more food.”

You stare up at Nat, but she’s not looking anywhere near you.

“Come on, Nat. That’s not fair,” Travis says. “Lottie’s not a hunter.”

“Oh, according to them, she’s better than a hunter.”

She looks around, and everyone else does, but not one says anything.

You grab Natalie’s hand, making her look at you.

“You’re not serious.”

She stares into your eyes.

“You’re not serious, Natalie. You can’t- can’t just go out into the wilderness all by yourself,” you laugh, just because it’s so hilarious. You look around, and no one says anything. “All of you can’t be serious. You’re gonna freeze out there all by yourselves.”

Natalie looks at you.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “It’s stupid.”

You take a step closer and drop your voice.

“Why do you let them get to you, Nat?”

“I’ll be fine, Y/N.”

You stare back at her, and when you look at her shadow behind her, you swear she’s wearing a crown of bones. Of antlers.

—-

2021-

“I know you’re in there, Y/N!”

Misty’s sing-song voice has been at your door for the past five minutes, banging and knocking, shouting that it’s her! It’s your old best friend, and you should just let her in-

“I don’t wanna talk to anyone, please Misty,” you groan, leaning your head against the heavy door. The following knocks make your teeth chatter.

“Okay,” she says, slightly shouting. “I wanted to tell you this in person, but since you’re being difficult…”

“What, Misty?!”

“Natalie’s missing.”

You open the door quickly, and when you look in her eyes, you know she’s not lying.

But you know nothing about the man behind her.

“I… who? Who the fuck-?”

She glances over to the man, dismissing him with a wave of her hand.

“That’s Walter. Seriously, do not mind him. He’s just helping me.”

“Hi,” he says after a moment, holding out his hand that you cautiously take. “I’m Walter,” he smiles. “And you must be the infamous Y/N I’ve heard so much about. All good things, besides for the shouting of your name just now.”

“Ha,” you say, and maybe you would she laughed if you weren’t so scared and confused.

One Yellowjacket missing could mean bad news for the rest of them.

Misty barges past you and inside, and Walter smiles awkwardly at you before following her.

“Oh, okay,” you mutter, shutting the door and following them. “Nat’s missing?”

Misty sighs, sitting on your couch, like she had when Travis died.

“Yes. But, we have a lead! Purple people.”

“Misty… do you have any meds you should be taking…?”

“Oh, no, no, Y/N. Not actual purple people. But people dressed in purple clothes.”

“Oh, yeah. ‘Cause that makes much more sense, huh? Besides, how do you know she didn’t just take off?”

“Has she contacted you?” Misty asks, taking out a notepad. Walter looks around your apartment while you wring your hands together nervously.

“No,” you sigh, and she sets down her notepad, adjusting her glasses.

“You know something.”

“I don’t,” you mutter.

“You do!” she shouts, pointing her finger at you.

You roll your eyes. “God, Misty, fine, I-” she looks at you expectantly, and you look away. “I… may have kinda, like, completely cut things off with her at the reunion?”

“Y/N,” Misty gasps. “What? What happened? You guys were so…”

You sigh and turn back to her. “It… it was never really healthy. And we were too focused on saving each other to save ourselves, it- it was never meant to work, you know?”

Misty looks you up and down. “Well,” she mutters, writing something down.

“She’s probably in Texas,” you mumble. “She always runs to Texas. She took me to Texas. She likes… the heat.”

Because winter makes her feel a little sick.

Misty nods. “Texas,” she sighs. She looks around your apartment. “Goodness, Y/N. Breakup really effect you?”

“It wasn’t a breakup, Misty,” you sneer. “We weren’t together. It was just… a formal… we shouldn’t ever get back together again.”

“Okay,” she says, raising her eyebrows, not really believing you. “Well, pack your bags. Don’t worry, I already called out of work for you-”

“Misty?! You- you can’t just-”

She cuts you a harsh glare.

“Listen to me. I know, and everyone else knows, that you still love her. And now she’s missing. I need your help, Y/N, and you need mine.”

“I don’t need your help, Misty,” you roll your eyes.

She shrugs.

“Aren’t you at least curious?” Walter asks, the first time he’s spoken since he came in. Misty rolls her eyes. “Come. I’m paying.”

And you are curious. And you do care about Natalie, even if you’re working to not love her anymore. Besides, who doesn’t want a free vacation?

—-

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@emilynissangtr

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 1 - Blue Effervescent Liquid Bottle

It was just another moody winter morning, and here she was, sitting in one comfortable chair at her favourite vintage cafe, enjoying a light breakfast (A large cup of caramel latte) and playing a video game on her most trusted PSP. Across from her stood her best friend and room-mate, Lea, a tall, gorgeous young lady of a paler complexion, striking blue eyes like the deep ocean, and recently dyed pink hair like candy floss. The two had been friends for over a decade, since well before college days - Who would think an online friendship could flourish so well, that they would even move in together to cut costs on renting a flat in London? It has become a routine for the two friends to go to the same cafe for breakfast - Breakfast that consists of tea or coffee and cake. Each day, every day. At least that is one thing they eat through the day, considering how completely absorbed they get with they work, and end up tuning out the whole world around them.  Enjoying the silence of the morning, the gamer got startled by her phone ringtone disturbing her ephemeral state of peace. Looking at the caller, she was surprised to see it was Lestrade, a police detective.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Sorry, I have to answer this..." Lea simply nodded her head, offering an absent smile; She was far too preoccupied by her book in Neuroscience to pay attention to her friend. "Good morning, Greg. How are you in this fine morning? Enjoying a coffee, I presume?" the lady with the long blue hair, cascading down her back like the mesmerising Iguazu Waterfall from Argentina, greeted her detective friend in a soft yet lovely tone, not even once shifting her gaze from her game. "I hardly have time for rest, lately." Lestrade grumbled, before quickly resuming his line. "I know you don't like being called on cases on the spot, but we would greatly benefit from your expertise." he continued, clearing his throat subtly. "Anderson can be... Well, you know best." "The suicide cases? Is that what you need me for? Has another one just surfaced?" the woman's interest was suddenly piqued, but not enough to make a wrong move in her game. "Yes, those." the detective confirmed curtly. "You know those aren't actually suicides, right? Just some tricky, witty way of making them appear as suicides, despite being murders?" she spoke back nonchalantly. "I've heard that one before." the detective seemed entirely bummed by the girl's confirmation regarding this information received. "Oh really? Then why'd you need me? Surely, whoever enlightened you about the crimes is smart enough to help you with the mystery and figure out the culprit, right?" she asked again, just a little surprised. "I fear there might be another suicide soon, and I need all the help I can get." Lestrade was almost begging for her aid - In fact, it seemed to her, that she would take any help, EXCEPT whoever gave him the hint before. Fascinating. The bluenette smirked like a joyful vixen spotting her defenseless prey. "You really know how to charm a lady, don't you~?" she chuckled softly. "I will join you and offer my help as much as I can, okay? I'm pretty sure I'll be able to arrive at the scene of the crime, just in time for a surprise autopsy~." "Glad I can at least rely on you." the detective sighed with a little relief. "Aren't I such a reliable person~?" the mischievous lady teased her sort-of friend. "Yes, you are. Now, excuse me, I have some paperwork to do. Greet your friend for me too. I'll send you the coordinations." he hung up soon after.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

By the wicked smirk on her friend's face, the pinkette placed her book down. "Another fancy murder case, I presume?" "Precisely. Oh, I can just feel the excitement going through my body as I examine it... Finding out all the secrets that it is hiding..." she replied, almost enthusiastically. Lea simply offered a half-smile. "Just like you to get so worked up over something like that. Then again, your pretty genius brain of yours has been screaming for some excitement for a while. Not many things have been happening lately. Bet you're in need for some money - Heard some games are going to be released soon." "You know me as well as I expected, cara mia. If only you'd know what a cash-grab most games are these days - A hundred pounds, and people expect me to pay for that? Ha! Learning how to pirate has been my best decision ever - Pulled me right out of poverty, really. Oh, the money I saved, not spending for any kind of electronic entertainment!" the mysterious girl with the aquamarine eyes stood up, putting her black trench over her shoulders and going in her car, driving away to the specified location of the fourth murder.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Just as expected, the fourth suicide-murder happened that exact same night - Unfortunately, the welcoming party was as unkind as always. Donovan and Anderson were as talkative as always, yet with exactly zero benefit to the crime scene - Or the state of the world, for what matters. Clearly, they have to compensate the lack of grey matter, with an extensively vicious tongue spilling poison. Perhaps they weren't aware, but the Lion does not listen to the opinion of sheep.

"Anderson, watch out, Freak #1 is on the scene." the woman came to greet her as nicely as ever.

"Skip the pleasantries, I don't have time to waste on you." the forensics doctor rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "Do you know where Greg is?"

"Why?" Donovan's question sounded just like one of those toddlers asking 'why?' to literally every little thing their parents tell them.

"Well, you see - If you were capable of using your brain for more than the basic mammal functions, maybe you'd know that I was, in fact, personally invited to take a look at the body." she was exasperated with this stalling, and quite rightfully so. "Why?" what a coincidence - Donovan the Toddler did it again.

"You know, to do just any good forensics doctor does." the blue haired lady gesticulated in a rather theatrical manner. "INVESTIGATE?!" "Well, you know what I think, don’t you?" Donovan put her hands on her hips, smirking down at her bullied victim.

"You never fail to tell me exactly what you think, every time we meet, Donovan. I would think, by now, I would be quite aware of your blatant dislike for me. I know, it is not easy knowing that your mental capacity can never come high up enough to match mine... Or your salary." the young woman found herself almost unable to stifle her mocking chuckle. Groaning in annoyance, Donovan spoke into the radio. "Freak's here, bring her in."

Her sidekick, Anderson, followed suit, bringing her towards the building. "It’s a crime scene. I don’t want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?"

"No need to warn me, Anderson. You see, unlike you, I actually am a proper doctor." the bluenette smirked at him with a patronising allure. "You might want to look in the mirror someday - Do some affirmations, tell yourself how great of a doctor you are..." she cleared her throat dramatically. 

"Here we go again..." the both of them looked at each other with disdain.

"Now, now, no need to work so well in tandem, you'll become more suspicious than you already are!" the vixen taunted them with ease.

"What the hell could you possibly mean by that?" Anderson asked, his eyes narrowed with hostility.

"If you were a proper doctor, you'd have tended to Donovan's knees after last night, you know? Poor woman must have kneeled for you for so long..." their eyes widened with shock - Busted. "Praying, of course, whatever could you think I meant? Get your minds out of the gutter - I would, however, recommend some aloe vera or marigold cream. Does wonders for that... And a new pair of pants, to hide the friction from your knees." seeing their horrified expression, the victorious lady threw a peace sign and skipped up the building stairs. "Say hi to your wife from me, Anderson!" As the forensics expert stepped into the shabby, dusty room of the abandoned, run-me-down building, she saw the body of a woman dressed in pink; This ought to be an interesting case, she thought, as she put her latex gloves on and approached the cadaver. "Her name’s Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We’re running them now for contact details. Hasn’t been here long. Some kids found her." what a nasty way to have your body discovered, she thought to herself, crouching by the lady. The woman’s body was lying face down on the bare floorboards in the middle of the room, wearing a bright pink overcoat and high-heeled pink shoes. Her hands were flat on the floor either side of her head. 

Scratched into the wooden floor, above her left hand, was the word "RACHE".  Her extensive knowledge of German popped into her head - That's the word for revenge - But surely, she wouldn't, with her last breath, painfully destroy her nails to scratch that into the wooden boards, right? Surely - It had to something more sentimental on her part.

A name, perhaps? Rache, from Rachel? Most likely. "Can you please try and figure out what ever could the name Rachel mean to her?"

"Rachel?" Greg blinked, completely dumbfounded.

"Yes - She scratched this into the wood - I think she died before she could finish writing this name." she explained softly. "I think she was trying to give us a clue into who the culprit was; Or at least a lead into how to find whoever did this to her." she continued. "I see, well thought." the detective nodded his head, only to be distracted briefly. "The others arrived." "O-Others...?" the lady suddenly froze and became paler than a paper. "Y-You never mentioned other people coming, Greg! Be reasonable, at least let them in AFTER I leave!" she pleaded in a whispery voice. "You know I don't do well with people!" "I'm sorry, we have limited time, so I can't afford that." he cut her off immediately. "V-Very well... I can cope with that..." she chuckled nervously, trying to return to her work. "Just do what you usually do - They won't disturb you... Much." this rhetoric did nothing but earn a snide comment from the doctress. "Hardly a reassurance." she muttered under her breath.

Taking a deep breath, the mystery lady calmed her nerves, and scanned the dead body laying before her; From a quick glance, anyone could easily deduce the victim was somewhere in her thirties, working in an office or something professional, based on her business/office outfit.  The death was definitely asphyxiation, and she choked on her own vomit - Poison? Drugs? Liquid, or pills? Probably doesn't matter. The back of her coat, and underneath the collar were wet, however the umbrella was perfectly dry - How very interesting - She'd have to check on the weather reports real quick. Her jewellery, she thought was all authentic gold and not fakes, were all pristine clean, except for her wedding band - Clean on the inside, dirty on the outside; Seems like someone's been unhappily married for almost half her entire life, and she's been drowning her sorrows in a string of men who were capable of giving her what her husband never could. Funny how many things a little ring could tell - All because it was removed so many times that it leaves traces!

There was, however, one thing amiss in this equation; One thing that left her in deep unrest, enough to get up and start idly pacing around and searching like a lost meerkat - Such a reputable lady MUST have had some kind of luggage, considering the state of her Achilles' tendon, all muddied up and dirty; That damn luggage ruined her pristine appearance! A luggage, matching her pristine self.

A pink luggage to match this pink lady's pink outfit of the day.

It was not the new pairs of footsteps, belonging to two men she never met, that got her out of her trance, but in fact a velvety baritone voice, so gorgeous and melodic, that it was lost on a mere greeting to detective Lestrade. The blue haired lady turned her head, and scanned the new-comer; A very tall young man, seemingly in her own age range, with flawless porcelain skin, the most beautiful celestial blue eyes she's ever seen, and the cutest flock of dark, curly hair, all messy as expected. He carried himself with long strides, yet very elegantly, just like a true English gentleman. No doubt, he was the brains behind the previous tip Lestrade got, about the suicides being murder. They say the eyes are the mirrors into one's soul - But their twinkle show just enough spark of pure genius and brilliance to spot from a mile away - And if not that, at least, definitely his quirkiness.

The fellow man by his side definitely looked like a sidekick; shorter, older, grey hair, and hardened by hardships. A war veteran with a leg wound, it seemed. Still, it was clear to her that even this seemingly innocent cute man had an endless stream of curiosity, if he agreed to come to this place just to see a dead body. "Who's this?" Lestrade asked, nodding to the shorter man. "He's with me. His name is John." the young one spoke briefly again, before turning to the lady. "And who is this?"

"Right, you haven't met before." the detective nodded to himself. "Sherlock, this is Raven, our forensics doctor." he gestured towards the bluenette.

"Lovely meeting you." the mystery lady offered a polite smile. "Worry not - I am no Anderson. I know the torture of working with someone of his... Caliber." she extended her hand to shake.

"Sherlock Holmes." the newcomer narrowed his beautiful eyes for a split second while analysing her from head to toe, before deciding for a most peculiar and completely out of character gesture - He picked her hand and kissed it. "Pleasure is all mine."

"What have you found?" Sherlock averted his gaze from the pink cadaver, back to the blue haired beauty, noticing her subtle mischief.

"About?" asking that, he was clearly testing her.

"I know you were analysing me. Just wondering what you picked up from a first glance."

Sherlock couldn't help feeling the corner of his mouth twitch up into an amused half-smile; Few people picked up on such a remark. At once, words started appearing in his mind palace, creating an almost perfect description of the lady before him. The most striking feature was definitely her hair - Long enough to go past her waist, but still kept impeccable and done daily; as for the colour, he was undecided whether it was a trend, because it suited her well and brought out her striking eyes, or simply because she was bored out of her mind.

Regardless, he moved to the next aspect, her make up - Done soft and in style, pearl pink and subtle glitter around the eyes, a small wing to highlight that impressive aquamarine colour of her iris, just the perfect blend of blue and green, and a shiny pink lipgloss to hydrate her chapped, dry lips; It seemed to him that she had quite the habit of biting her lips - Nervousness? Anxiety? A tick for when she gets too deep into her thoughts? Or, perhaps, all at once.

Her outfit, also, was impeccable; A dark blue dress, embroidered with golden constellations, reaching just about mid-shin, was hugging her body in all the right places. Her shoes, black, with a small yet elegant wide heel, matched her black trench coat made out of the finest yorkshire wool, and her black leather purse. Her jewellery, also fine and genuine, adorned her slender fingers, delicate wrist, supple neck and small ears. Impeccable, with a single flaw - The blackness of the trench coat couldn't hide the single strand of black dog hair. Small breed, no doubt, on the older side also based on the grey tint.

Her fingers were slender and long, yes; She definitely played at least one kind of instrument - Piano had to be one of them, though he'd have to bet on a strings instrument also. Perhaps something more eccentric than a guitar? Something eastern, maybe; based on the almost invisible lines across her fingertips, she must have played it as late as the previous night. Her middle finger also had a slight callous, no doubt from her long studies as a doctor; Though a slight deformity on her pinky finger, just in the middle, made him wonder - It was definitely from repeatedly holding some device, but what exactly? Was it technology? Was she tech-savy? Had to be. A phone, perhaps?

"You play the piano on a high level, and at least one more string instrument, something from Asia no doubt - Is it a koto? Erhu?" Sherlock began, then looked at her manicure - Long nails, done at the salon frequently, and well taken care of; Pearl pink polish, so it would match any wardrobe. "Your nails are too long for most string instruments. Maybe a zither?"

"Guzheng, yes. That's why I keep my nails long. It helps with the plucking." Sherlock nodded his head, pleased with his deduction.

"You have a small breed dog at home - Apartment, rather large also - On the older side... Ten years old? A little more?" he continued. "Based on how straight it is, I'd say a Bichon... Maltese, maybe? It's not slick enough though. Maybe... Lowchen?"

"Close. She's turning twelve on November 6th. She's a Havanese. Her name is Fifi." the handsome young man tsk'ed in annoyance.

"There's always something..." he was always so annoyed when he missed things so elementary. "You're proficient in computers - Technology. There must be some kind of gadget you keep holding weirdly through the day that it made an indent in the inside of your right pinky finger. It can't be a phone, but I think that added to it."

"PSP gaming console." the lady brought her hand up to her mouth, looking away as she giggled softly. "Haven't quite expected me to be a hardcore gamer, did you?" she asked, quite amused at his shock. "My eyes are tired because I game too much, in a dark room. I admit my fault. I sleep far too little for what's worth." "I should have paid more attention in the gaming store." he nodded to himself, happy that he had more fields to research in. 

"I think it was quite brilliant. Most of these seemingly obvious details always pass unnoticed the easiest. You have fantastic keen eyes, and a splendid mind, Detective Sherlock." she praised him, clearly genuine. "Now then - I am sure you want to ask me something else, don't you?"

"Quite so!" he exclaimed, evidently thrilled to have more pleasant company around him that wouldn't annoy him to the degree of Donovan and Anderson... Or everyone else, for the matter. "I am curious as to what you have found out about the body - And more importantly, what you've been searching for around this room."

"Wait, hold up - Are you going to tell me how in the world did you figure all that out?!" poor John, with a flabbergast look on his face, was terribly curious.

"Quite simple, really. You just don't know where to look." Sherlock waved dismissively. "The instrument thing - Her fingers are long and slender, it indicates someone who played an instrument very often in their childhood, thus, the piano; However, look here, on the tips, there's faint horizontal lines, indicating a string instrument - But long nails would interfere with most string instruments, thus, it had to be one thing - The zither." the detective began explaining his deduction process. "There was a single strand of hair blending with the colour of the coat - Initially black, but with enough grey hues; based on the texture and the straightness of it, it could only be a small breed dog, old enough to have gotten grey fur. Since most small breeds have a longer lifespan, their elderly years go farther, thus it had to be somewhere older than ten years of age. The Maltese, Havanese and Lowchen are the only breeds with such straight fur - Although, I admit, it had crossed my mind that the Havanese had such soft hair. You must tend to her daily."

"Quite so. She loved a good evening pampering." Raven nodded her head with a giddy smile; She clearly loved her pet very much, and enjoyed talking about her.

"And what about the tech-thing? You couldn't possible guess that from a simple indenture in her pinky!" John cried in surprise, although still stupefied at all the sound deduction - And how elementary it was!

Instead of a verbal answer, Raven dug into her purse and pulled out a nice PSP, and demonstrated how she held it in her right hand - Leaning lazily on the curvature of her inner pinky. "Adding that to how I hold my phone, every day for years now, you get this little funky thing." she showed off her pinky mark.

"... Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" the sidekick gasped.

"Think so?" Sherlock seemed almost taken aback by the compliments, yet clearly he loved them.

"Definitely." John nodded his head.

"Returning to our victim here - I can't say I've found any major discovery, unfortunately - Or at least, nothing that would aid us in finding the culprit. I truly don't think knowing she's a serial cheater and unhappily married for over a decade would help us with this mystery." she chuckled softly. "I think, however, we should check the weather forecast -- And look around for a pink luggage."

At once, Sherlock went to crouch by her side, fiddled with her wedding band, touched her coat and her umbrella, looked around and nodded - Then got up and walked in front of the bluenette, as if to discuss their shared findings. "I checked the forecast, and-"

However, his genius was outshadowed by Anderson's outright monumental stupidity that knew absolutely no bounds. "She’s German." he declared boldly. "‘Rache’- it’s German for ‘revenge’. She could be trying to tell us something..." thankfully, he was cut off by a most witty remark, before Holmes could close the door in his face. "Yes, Anderson, you are completely right! You see - I have discovered that she is telling us... That you're a complete moron." she stated bluntly. "She's not some ghost to haunt you from the afterlife and get revenge. Honestly - Being in your presence encouraged my neurons to commit seppuku. Fortunately, for my own mental health, if I wanted to kill myself, I would just have to climb up your ego and jump down to your IQ - It must be lower than you shoe size."

From one corner, Greg and John were fighting hard to hide their amusement, especially seeing Anderson's dumb face, and his mouth opening and closing like a pufferfish; Sherlock, however, glanced her way, and with a smirk, he used one had to slam the door in Anderson's face, and the other to show Raven the phone with the weather forecast she requested. She was witty, this one, and she knew just where to look. He quite liked her.

"So where is she from?" Lestrade asked the two people he invited over for their professional opinion on the situation. "She’s from out of town. Intended to stay in London for one night, before returning home to Cardiff. So far, so obvious." Sherlock began his trail of thoughts, spoken out loud. Raven nodded along - To think it was Cardiff, of all places, how marvelous! "Sorry – Obvious?" John blinked, as if he missed the most obvious magic trick unveiling before his very eyes. "What about the message, though?" the detective asked, eying the scratched floorboards. "Doctor Watson, what do you think?" so he was a doctor - An Army Doctor, how fascinating! Maybe this sidekick was far more interesting than she'd first anticipated! "Of the message?" John asked, a little surprised to be asked to contribute to the case on the spot. "Of the body. You’re a medical man." Sherlock urged him. "Miss Raven has already done her medical investigation - Surely it would be productive if you two were to compare notes." "Wait, no, we have a whole team right outside." Lestrade protested immediately.

"Yeah - And useless Anderson is one of them." the blue haired lady huffed. "I’m breaking every rule letting you in here." the detective kept pressing on. "Yes ... Because you need me." Sherlock knew just what fortes he has. "Yes, I do... God help me." poor man was defeated. "Well, do what he says, help yourself." he invited the doctor to look at the body, whilst instructing Anderson to keep everyone outside in the meantime. "What am I doing here?" the army doctor found himself asking with bewilderment. "Helping me make a point." Sherlock replied clearly. "I’m supposed to be helping you pay the rent." John answered right back, still unsure of his position at the crime scene. "Yeah, well, this is more fun." the genius detective titled his head playfully. "Fun? There’s a woman lying dead." the stupefied doctor threw his hands towards the dead lady lying on the ground. "Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you’d go deeper." the detective snarked his new flatmate. "Yeah ... " finally, the army doctor crouched to the ground next to the dead body and began his own quick examination. "Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can’t smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs." he explained, after taking a little sniff of the inside of her mouth. "You know what it was. You’ve read the papers." the blue-eyes man retorted. "What, she’s one of the suicides? The fourth ...?" he sounded incredulous, poor man.

"The idea of 'suicide' here is a little misinterpreted." "Sherlock, two minutes, I said." Greg came back inside the room. "I need anything you’ve got." he sounded almost desperate, bless his heart. "Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; I’m guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Traveled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It’s obvious from the size of her suitcase." the detective genius spoke up in a most natural tone.

"In the media... I thought she was an office worker, or a business woman." Raven thought out loud. "Is it because she dresses so flashy? News Anchors usually do dress elegantly, with a dash of eccentrism."

"Yes, quite so." Holmes nodded his head to affirm her train of thought. "Suitcase?" the police detective frowned, confused about this supposed suitcase. "Suitcase, yes. She’s been married at least ten years, but not happily. She’s had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married." so he thought about the suitcase in relation to the adulterer life she lived, how fascinating that two people can come to the same conclusion, but for different reasons! Raven simply thought she had a pink luggage because she had been traveling from out of town, and because of the weather, she'd gotten the back of her ankles quite messy! "Oh, for God’s sake, if you’re just making this up ..." Lestrade groaned, unable to believe the younger one could come up with such a detailed reasoning. "Miss Raven told you the same, hasn't she? Both of us couldn't possibly come up with the same story." the bluenette was quite surprised at being called 'miss' so politely. Sherlock Holmes hadn't struck her as the conventional type of old-school British gentleman, who would call ladies with such honorifics. How charming and gallant of him. "Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it’s regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It’s not for work; look at her nails. She doesn’t work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she’d never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple." the young man explained, as if it was the simplest equation known to mankind. Was he not aware of how outstandingly unique his deduction skills are? Was he seeking some more applause and validation? Or just... He's tired of how simple everyone surrounding him is, in comparison to himself, and that he has not found an equal? Is he in search of the Joker counterpart, to his Batman? Someone to keep him on his toes and challenge him for once? "That’s brilliant." John remarked, outstanded by what he just heart. "Cardiff?" Greg asked. "It’s obvious, isn’t it?" Sherlock asked, quite genuinely surprised that they were even asking. "It’s not obvious to me." John replied immediately, almost offended at the implication that he's dumb. "Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring." Sherlock rolled his eyes, making the single lady present giggle softly in amusement. "Her coat - it’s slightly damp. She’s been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She’s turned it up against the wind. She’s got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it’s dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can’t have traveled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn’t dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? Cardiff." the young detective explained the obvious, making John look like a surprised pufferfish. "That’s fantastic!" the medic exclaimed out loud. "D’you know you do that out loud?" Holmes asked his flatman, who got quite bashful. "Sorry. I’ll shut up." he looked away, hiding his embarrassment. "No, it’s ... Fine." Sherlock cleared his throat; How adorable he was - He just wanted a little praise, that's all! Granted, with people like Donovan around, there was no doubt Sherlock must get littler praise than even she does, Raven thought to herself. Were she to throw a few genuine remarks his way, would he feel his heartstrings tugged? Would his ego get stroked? Quite fascinating indeed. "Miss Raven, when I entered the room, you were searching for something - What was it?"

"I was trying to figure out if her phone was hidden around, or taken by the culprit. Given who she is, there's no way she wouldn't keep her cellphone and/or some kind of... Organiser in her possession at all times." she explained, adjusting the trench over her shoulders. "I haven't found either - And, what's more, there hasn't been sight of any suitcases or luggage whatsoever." Sherlock looked at her and blinked in surprise at what he's heard - No suitcase? No phone? Nothing?! "In this whole house, there is nothing pink, nor that would belong to Lady Jennifer. My only supposition is that the culprit took either, or both, with them. To hide evidence, or... Who knows." a few more seconds of silence passed before them. "Hold up - Reckon the phone might still be, at this moment, in the culprit's possession? If the phone is turned on, I think we could locate it based on where the signal pings."

"Brilliant!" Sherlock exclaimed theatrically, shocking everyone around. "Lestrade, find out who Rachel is." "Hold up, you two, stop getting ahead - What's all this talk about a suitcase? How could you possibly know she had one with her, when this happened?" Lestrade's eyes were wide, and darting between the odd pair who seemed to hit it off quite perfectly. "Honestly..." Holmes reverted back to his impatient tone. "Back of the right leg - tiny splash marks on the heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don’t get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bag, so we know she was staying one night. Now, where is it? What have you done with it? - No, rather - Did you find any?" "There wasn’t a case." Sherlock pressed him again with the same question, earning the same vehement response. "There wasn’t a case. There was never any suitcase." Immediately Sherlock straightened up and headed for the door in a rather erratic manner, calling out to all the police officers in the house as he began hurrying down the stairs, followed by the curious lady with blue hair. He looked hilarious, even childish, yelling around for a suitcase, while everyone was telling him there wasn't any! "Sherlock, there was no case!" Lestrade shouted back, clearly exasperated.

"The killings - They're serial killings, not coincidental suicides - All of them, they take the poison themselves, they chew, they swallow the pills themselves - The signs are clear, even you lot couldn't miss them!" he exclaimed, looking around like a headless chicken. "The case - Yes, you were right - If there's no case, then the killer took it!" he exclaimed his eureka moment. "But how did he take it - Maybe... Maybe the killer drove her here, forgot the case was in the car...!"

"A pink luggage would stand out too much. She stood out too much. There's no way he carried it anywhere out of the car, if that's the case - Unless he disposed of it after the deed was done." Raven pointed it out, though she wasn't sure she was even heard - It seemed that, whenever Sherlock was thinking, his awareness of the outside world diminished almost completely.

"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there." John suggested, confused on why Sherlock came up with the car theory. "I don't think any respectable woman, such as herself, would leave the hotel room looking like a mess." the lady huffed with a half-smile on her face. "That woman coordinated her make up, outfit and accessories - She hadn't reached her hotel room, otherwise she'd have fixed herself up properly."

"Yes, yes, as she said ---" Sherlock gasped loudly, clapping his hands together, grinning at his own brilliance. "Oh... Oh!" he seemed so giddy and boyish, how cute he was. "Serial killers, always hard - You have to wait for them to make a mistake." he smirked to himself, triumphant. 

"We can’t just wait!" Greg yelled out from the top of the stairs, watching the detective waltz around aimlessly around the ground floor. "Oh, we’re done waiting! Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake!" he cheered, before turning around to see the blue haired lady standing 3 steps above him, looking down at him with quite the amused smiled.

"I am glad you've found your eureka moment." her smile reminded Sherlock of a fox. Quite mischievous indeed, this one.

"Thank God there's still hope in this world!" he skipped up on the steps to get on even level with the lady, before placing both of his large hands on either side of her face, and planting a kiss on her forehead. "Get a cab and come to this address - There's no way I'd take you dumpster-diving around the city." how thoughtful, Mr. Holmes!

"... Hm? Wait, Sherlock, how do you...--" but she was cut off by Sherlock jumping off the stairs and yelling up towards Lestrade.

"Lestrade, get on to Cardiff - Find out who Jennifer Wilson’s family and friends were. Find Rachel!" he cried out, lunging towards the exit, only to be brought back by the detective asking him - What the hell was the killer's mistake? "PINK!" Sherlock exclaimed loudly, before hurrying out... To search for the pink luggage in... Rather disgusting places. Just as instructed, Raven caught a cab and went to the given address, and whilst waiting for Holmes to arrive, she stood idly and played her game on the portable console. It must have been about an hour before finally, the detective found her, with a large grin on his face as soon as he spotted her - He showed off the pink luggage.

"Well done, Mr. Sherlock! Quite remarkable!" she quickly placed back the console inside her purse, giving him a little round of applause. It seemed that, either her praise, or the respect given, took him aback.

"Mr...?" he blinked, clearly surprised. "We are in the same age-range; I'd say there's no need to address me so formally."

"You had the courtesy of being a gentleman with me, and even using honorifics - How could I, in good faith, elude my own politeness? Is England not the land of polite people?" his eyes narrowed for a split second, seemingly analysing her for another quick scan. He was almost like a robot, working on statistics and calculations for most of his time. 

"Quite so - A good century ago, that is. Surely, you've had the pleasure of meeting Sergeant Donovan before." that remark seemed to earn a scoff of amusement from the lady.

"I had - But hopefully, Anderson's wife hadn't; Donovan must be quite the devout worshipper..." Sherlock looked down with shock at the little tricksy lady, and with the cunning look she gave him, he could only feel a grin forming on his face.

"Oh, you, mischief!" he exclaimed with delight. "Let's get inside - You deserve a nice cuppa; And some biscuits. Mrs. Hudson makes amazing tea and biscuits."

"Ah!" Raven gasped. "I did want to ask - I may not be a genius, but I still have to ask - How, exactly, did you know where I live?" Sherlock blinked in surprise, looking as the lady pointed towards the same block he lived in. "Second floor, Flat 3. Been here for a good three years."

"I'm more surprised we haven't met before." Holmes hummed, gallantly opening the door for her. "Same block, frequenting the same workplace from time to time - Surely, I'd remember..."

"Did you move in recently?" Raven asked, looking around the place. "No - Rather... You've got a new flatmate. Did John - If you don't mind me addressing him this way - Join you recently? Today, perhaps?"

"Sounds deduction!" the man nodded, "Yesterday." throwing the luggage on the couch, calling for Mrs. Hudson to make them a nice cuppa.

"I'm not your housekeeper, Sherlock." the old lady shook her head, but as soon as she noticed the blue haired woman, she exclaimed delightful, and they exchanged pleasantries. "Alright, just this time, since you've got such pleasant company! Oh, Sherlock, but Raven is such a sweet girl - Her and her flatmate are simply a delight to have around! And you should see her winning at cards and bingo!"

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, you are simply too kind! No need to flatter me - We all know you are the loveliest woman alive!" they kissed each others' cheeks as if they were blood family. "You know how happy I am to pair up with you and earn money - Those old relics can never compete with us!"

Sherlock watched the interaction between the two ladies with a half-smirk on his face; He was thoroughly amused, what a flawless day! Finally, something to stir him out of the mundane boredom of life! Mrs. Hudson returned to serve them tea and biscuits, and as she left, the man couldn't help but look at the blue haired lady and her perfect mannerisms as she sipped from her tea - Yet said nothing.

Raven, however, slowly averted her piercing gaze towards the man's own cerulean eyes; With makeup highlighting her own eyes, it almost seemed as if she could peer into his soul - Or even read his mind. "I helped her with some drug problems."

"Helped her smuggle, didn't you?" oh, he knew just how to charm a girl! As she nodded, he continued. "Her husband was about to be executed."

"And you ensured that was exactly what happened." she stated, not asked. The satisfied smile on his face was enough confirmation.

"Well then!" he cleared his throat after finishing his cuppa. "Forgive my manners - I need to think." he unbuttoned his shirt sleeve, put three nicotine patches on his arms, then stretched out on the sofa with his head towards the window and resting on a cushion. "I need John - Could you take my phone and message him until he finally decides to show up? I don't suppose we've got all day, do we." He pushed up his arms, eyes closed and pressing the palm of his right hand firmly onto the underside of his left arm, just below the elbow. After some seconds his eyes snap open wide and he stared fixedly up towards the ceiling, then sighed out a noisy breath, and relaxed. Sherlock repeatedly clenches and unclenches his left fist.

"Never heard of nicotine patches helping with thinking." Raven found herself speaking in a soft voice, as to not startle him out of his trance. "I suppose smokers haven't had it easy these days."

"Can't do anything fun these days. No wonder everyone's so simple-minded." he scoffed, continuing his routine, hearing the amusement in her breath, as she continued to send texts to John, until finally, he returned home.

He looked at Sherlock, blinked in bewilderment, then asked what the hell he was doing. He only received a brief, but explanatory reply. "Bad news for brain work." he ended with a snarky remark.

"It’s good news for breathing." the medic spoke the truth. "Oh, breathing. Breathing’s boring." he waved his hand dismissively. "But useful." the lady chuckled lightly. "Is that three patches?" the medic never seems to get a break. "It’s a three-patch problem." came the answer, followed by a long silence. "Well?" the silent continued. "You asked me to come. I’m assuming it’s important." "Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?" he extended his hand with his palm upwards. "My phone?" John asked once again - How could he have the audacity...? "Don’t wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognised. It’s on the website." the detective spoke nonchalantly. "Raven's got a phone. Mrs Hudson’s got a phone." the medic was getting evidently frustrated at the inconveniences sent his way. "Raven is a public person and Mrs. Hudson is downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn’t hear." the lady in cause couldn't help but blink in shock. "Accidentally stumbled upon your forensics blog. Tried a few of the experiments myself. Well made videos."

"Much obliged." she coughed softly, still in shock at what she just heart. "Sherlock!" John exclaimed, thoroughly exasperated. "I was on the other side of London!" "There was no hurry." says he, after making her send countless obnoxious texts. John ended up placing his phone on Sherlock's outstretched hand, and he glowered for a few moments; Sherlock brought his hands together in a praying position, and he started thinking out loud. "So what’s this about – the case?" John starts speaking again, as he's got no answer whatsoever. "Her case." Sherlock answered very vaguely. "Her case?" John pressed on. "er suitcase, yes, obviously. The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake." Sherlock repeated himself. "Okay, he took her case. So?" no reply from the detective, as he was talking to himself instead. "It’s no use, there’s no other way. We’ll have to risk it. On my desk there’s a number. I want you to send a text." he handed John back the phone. "You brought me here ... To send a text." poor John was done with his flatmate. "Text, yes. The number on my desk." the detective pressed once more, holding the phone, until John got over his thoughts of homicide, stomped across the room and snatched back his phone. The atmosphere was quite tense in the room. "What’s wrong?" "Just met a friend of yours." what an intriguing affirmation - Even more so, considering Sherlock's reaction. "A friend?" he truly was confused out of his mind. The freak doesn't have friends, as everyone knows. "An enemy." John corrected himself. "Ohh. Which one?" the detective seemed to have more enemies than Superman himself. "Your arch-enemy, according to him. Do people have arch-enemies?" yes, that was quite surprising. Was this guy a Lex Luthor level genius too? "Did he offer you money to spy on me?" he must know who it was! John answered affirmatively "Did you take it?" this time, negatively. "Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time." definitely unafraid of this supposed arch-enemy! "Who is he?" that's an answer Raven also wants to know! "The most dangerous man you’ve ever met, and not my problem right now." he answered, clearly not wanting to think about this mystery person.

"I'm intrigued now..." the girl sighed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough." Sherlock answered her elusively. "John, on my desk, the number." "Jennifer Wilson. That was ... Hang on. Wasn’t that the dead woman?" the medic had a revelation. "Yes. That’s not important. Just enter the number. Are you doing it?" affirmative answer. "Have you done it?" poor man wasn't so swift with his texting. "These words exactly - What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out. Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.” "You blacked out?" John looked with confusion at the detective. "What? No. No! Type and send it. Quickly." Sherlock went into the kitchen, picking up the suitcase and throwing it back in the living room, opening it. "Have you sent it?" he had to repeat the address.

As John sent the text, he looked around him, noticing the open suitcase; There were few items of clothing and underwear – all in varying shades of pink – a washbag, and a paperback novel He turned towards the case and staggered slightly in shock once he realised what he was looking at. "That’s ... That’s the pink lady’s case. That’s Jennifer Wilson’s case."  Sherlock looked up at him, from the comfort of his chair. "Oh, perhaps I should mention: I didn’t kill her." why would he have to clarify the obvious? "I never said you did." John frowned at his flatmate. "Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact that I have her case, it’s a perfectly logical assumption." the detective reasoned the unreasonable. "Do people usually assume you’re the murderer?" he received a positive answer.

"That's... Quite sad, actually." the woman found herself muttering under her breath. Sherlock put his hands onto the arms of the armchair and lifted his feet up and under him so that he was perching on the seat with his backside braced against the back rest, then clasped his hands under his chin. "Okay ..." John limped across the room and dropped heavily into the chair on the other side of the fireplace. "How did you get this?"

"By looking." came the diminutive answer, that evidently asked for clarification.  "The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention – particularly a man, which is statistically more likely – so obviously he’d feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn’t have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took less than an hour to find the right skip." that truly was a fascinating explanation! Unlike Raven, who was thoroughly directionally challenged, Sherlock knew his geography to a flawless degree. "Pink." John deadpanned. "You got all that because you realized the case would be pink?" "I had my help." he shared a glance with the blue haired woman that was sitting back on the armchair, smiling enigmatically. "Well, it had to be pink, obviously." "Why didn’t I think of that?" asked himself out loud. "Because you’re an idiot." Sherlock's answer shocked them both.

"Sherlock!" the lady called out to him. "That was rude - You can't speak like that to John!" "No, no, no, don’t look like that. Practically everyone is." the look on both their eyes told Sherlock to shut up and stop digging his hole even more. "Now, look. Do you see what’s missing?" he pointed towards the luggage contens. "From the case? How could I?" he frowned, incredulous.

"Remember what Raven said she was looking for in the abandoned house?" Holmes gave a hint, which the medic took.

"The phone - She was looking for a phone, but there was none. In the house, in her pockets - There was no phone or organiser." the detective was pleased with his flatmate's attention span. "Exactly! Where’s her mobile phone? If there was no phone on the body, no phone in the case - Where is it? We know she had one – That’s her number there; you just texted it." Holmes explained quickly. "Maybe she left it at home." came one answer. "She has a string of lovers and she’s careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home." that's one very valid reason.

"That, and considering her media workplace, and her leaving town - Along with the fact that most people don't leave home without their phone in the pocket - There was bound to be a phone somewhere in her coat or suitcase." Raven also chimed in with her own explanation. "She could have lost it." John reasoned once again, only for the detective to ask for an alternative. "The murderer ... You think the murderer has the phone?" bingo. "Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone." Sherlock explained. "Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer?! What good will that do?" John still remained evidently confused. As if on cue, his phone begins to ring. He picked it up and looked at the screen for the Caller I.D. "A few hours after his last victim, he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found that phone they’d ignore a text like that, but the murderer ... Would panic." Holmes stared intently at the phone. "He thinks Jennifer is alive and could give him in to the police." the lady spoke up also. Sherlock flipped close the lid of the suitcase and stood up, walking across the room to pick up his jacket. As John continued to stare down at his phone, he put on his jacket and walked towards the door. Raven, also, stood up, placed the trench over her shoulders, and smiled to the two men. 

"Going to Northumberland Street to spy on our little mousie?" Sherlock's eyes got a new spark of vitality, and he nodded at her. "Very well - I will leave you two, darling, to have fun on your own. You see - Legwork of this degree is not quite suitable to my tastes." she looked so coquettish and femininely playful. "I am a lady - I couldn't possibly mess up my outfit." she continued. "And besides - I have got a few lovely bottles of blue effervescent liquid waiting for me at home. Far cosier, and with more sugary coffee than your hide-and-seek game."

"What - What's she saying?" John blinked - What was that about blue liquid?

"She's staying home to die her hair." he translated for her. "I haven't asked you to dumpster dive - Naturally, I wouldn't ask you to be chasing around killers in shady back-alleys, in the middle of the night. As you said - Not quite the behaviour of a gentleman, am I right?" John frowned, looking at Holmes - Why was he speaking so... Gallant, to her? Did he... Did he fancy this lady he's just met? Curiosity was greatly bothering him, but that would already be bordering nosiness! It would be terribly rude of him!

Just the the two of them were ready to leave, they heard the lady speak again. "Sherlock - I am sure you have already figured out by now - But Jennifer must have willingly stepped inside a car; It couldn't be someone she knew, so clearly, a stranger. What car driven by a stranger do people willingly step into? Cabs. But Taxis can be highly elusive, especially with how well drivers know shortcuts and back alleys." a few moments of silence stemmed between the trio, before John muttered a small 'Brilliant!'. To think she was worthy of his instinctive praise - She was so flattered!

"Where have you been my entire life?" Sherlock found himself asking dramatically. "Life is so boring without people like you around!" it almost seemed like he was washed over by a veil of relief.

"Hiding in my home and at work like a hermit." she smiled like a princess. "Now on you go, you two. Knock on my door once you've finished your chasing mission. I am thrilled to find out the culprit!" Nodding at each other, Raven watched the two men leave the building, before returning into her own flat; It was engulfed into a soothing scent of coffee and cinnamon from all the scented candles and incense burning, and soft jazz music was playing in the living-room. It seemed Lea wasn't home; She must still be at the lab, working. 

She always did love taking care of herself - What was life without some self-care, they say - And what better way than some nice scents, lovely music, and skincare while dyeing your hair! She also had some nice tea bought recently, and leftover chocolate cake from the previous night.

The lady found herself singing along Ella Fitzgerald during her bubble bath, and with Edith Piaf while drying her hair and styling it. She was already dressed in her pink silk negligee, with the robe over, and humming Marilyn Monroe's thrills while sipping her sweet Cherry Vanilla tea, and eating cake, reading one of her favourite book, 'The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Thief' by Maurice Leblanc.

Some time later in the evening, while Raven was waltzing around the living room to some romantic song, drinking from her glass of rose, she heard a commotion from the apartment downstairs; Were Sherlock and John home? No clearly, it couldn't be them - The noise is too suspect. No way the lodgers of that flat would behave so... Uncouth. With a strike of bravery, she got her wooly slippers on - Even the slippers had a little heel - And went to investigate downstairs, holding the silk coat tighter to her body.

As she peeked inside the creaked-open door, she realised she knew the robbers. "Gregory Lestrade!" she marched inside the flat, clearly offended, seeing Lestrade casually lounging on the chair by the fireplace, whilst the whole team was searching through the house. "How dare you break into Sherlock's home! You may want to be looking for Jennifer's suitcase and figure out the mystery behind her death - But you cannot just -- You can't! You can't burst into someone's house like that! Nearly gave me a heart attack, yes, you did!" she scolded him, quite like a furious grandma. "I am so disappointed in you - Not quite the gentleman behaviour the British advertise so much!"

"Well, you see - We didn't break in, not technically. I'd call this a drug bust, instead." Greg replied simply. "Yes, I know - I knew Sherlock would find the case; I knew, clearly, by how well you two worked together, the case would progress quickly; But he hasn't updated me in the least, and I need answers - Answers that I'm here to get myself." he explained.

"So, you get the suitcase, and what?" the lady huffed, indignant. "Look around that luggage all you want - You'll never reach the logic of it by yourself, no matter how much you try..." her voice lowered softly in realisation. "And you know it." she stopped speaking for a few seconds, seeing the sardonic smile on his face. "You're here to pressure Sherlock into giving you the right answers."

"Right as always." Lestrade nodded his head. "And, just in time, I hear them also. Good! About time." he huffed, getting even more comfortable in that armchair.

"What, in the world, is this?!" Sherlock, freaked out at having the whole police squad sniffing his room for drugs, shouted at Lestrade. "It’s a drugs bust." came the nonchalant response. "Seriously?! This guy, a junkie?! Have you met him?!" John was warned by both Holmes and the bluenette, but he continued his baseless defense. "I’m pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn’t find anything you could call recreational." Sherlock, once again, tried to shut him up under his breath. "Yeah, but come on ... No!" he finally realised. "You?" "Shut up!" Sherlock snarked at his flatmat. "Anderson - You won't find drugs hiding inside the violin - It's too precious for him. Just put that down, you're staining it with your brainless-germs." Raven sneered at the dumb agent.  "What, An... Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?" Sherlock gasped, seeing that idiot's face. "Oh, I volunteered." Anderson smirked evilly at his opponent. "They all did. They’re not strictly speaking on the drugs squad, but they’re very keen." Lestrade explained casually, seeing the stress taking over the young detective. "Are these human eyes?" Donovan showed the jar, wearing a disgusted expression on her face. "Put those back!" Holmes snapped immediately. "They were in the microwave!" she cried out, but still placed them back. "It’s an experiment!" "Keep looking, guys." Lestrade ordered his agents.

"Enough!" Raven's voice, albeit still soft, managed to grab their attention. "That's enough! You're not pressuring him - You're pressuring me! You're pressuring John! And above all - You're pressuring Mrs. Hudson!" she protested. "You guys burst into this place, giving me a massive heart attack because I thought we had home-invaders, and I'm a lone, defenseless woman just upstairs! And now - I'm in a room full of idiots who are making me feel highly uncomfortable, and I am dressed like this! Have you people no shame at all for collateral victims?!" clearly, it was a way to went out; Truth be told, although her outfit was clearly standing out from everyone else, hardly anyone was focused enough on the newcomers, as they were more interested in finding clues to incriminate Public Enemy #1, Sherlock Holmes. "Can't you two just start cooperating with each other and stop this childish charade already? We're investigating a murder, not playing house!" "Fine." Greg grumbled, getting up from his seat. "Let’s work together. We’ve found Rachel. She's Jennifer Wilson’s only daughter." "Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter’s name? Why?" Sherlock interrogated the detective. "Never mind that. We found the case. According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath." Anderson simply HAD to speak again. "I’m not a psychopath, Anderson. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research." Holmes proudly admitted. "You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her." "She’s dead." "Excellent! How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be." not many people would call a child's death 'excellent'. What an eccentric man he is. "Well, I doubt it, since she’s been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson’s stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago." Greg explained a little further - He surely thought their lead was just as dead as this girl. "No, that’s ... that’s not right. How ... Why would she do that? Why?" Sherlock seemed to have so many unanswered questions in his head, all of them provoked by this unknown name. "Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup – sociopath; I’m seeing it now." Anderson rolled his eyes, returning to his faux drug bust. "She didn’t think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt." so... Clearly, something stronger. Something going further than family ties, something that she'd use frequently, something of great importance to her...

"A password!" Raven exclaimed out of nowhere. "But from where..." her phone is at the killer, and she didn't have any other technology. Considering her media personality profession... She would need a more performant cellphone, perhaps? Something that would be good enough to use, instead of a laptop - It's easier to carry, cheaper, and you can do figuratively the same thing? So... A password... "We can figure out the phone's location! Smartphones have GPS!" she had her eureka moment, realising her phone was in her coat, and she tried to see how easily she could ping her own location - The answer was, very easy.

But her comment wasn't heard, as Sherlock was arguing around with everyone, and Mrs. Hudson just entered the flat to comment on what a mess the police did - And to tell Sherlock his taxi's arrived. "Marvelous!" Raven exclaimed, feeling her legs trembling softly. In an instant, she lunged to the laptop, accessing the smartphone GPS website whilst Sherlock was trying to make John think of what a dying person's last thoughts and words would be - And then, she went to the old lady, placing her hands on her shoulders. "Could you please do me a favour and tell Sherlock that I love my dog very much? After this loud mess ends - They're giving me a migraine, I wouldn't want you to be afflicted as well."

"Yes, of course, dearie, of course - But, what are you doing, dressed like this - Oh, it's all their fault, my poor girl!" the old lady exclaimed softly.

"I would be very appreciative, if you were to scold them about this. They deserve it, truly!" Raven kissed both her cheeks. "I have to catch that cab - Oh, right, maybe you should also tell that to Sherlock... Once he's calmed down a little."

"Darling, you can't -- Not dressed like that, surely -- It's not safe for a beautiful young lady like yourself -- At least get Sherlock with you!" the poor, worrying old woman tried to call out to the bluenette, but she was already bolted out of the block, and in front of the old man driver.  The night wind was cold on her skin, and she kept her silk coat tightly around her exposed body - Why the hell did she have to get face to face with a serial killer, while she's wearing a negligee?! That's simply disrespectful. These people have forgotten the old myths of British Etiquette!

Still, she smiled, trying to keep her flying hair in check. The old man was leaning back on the door of the black cab, his hands dug deep in his pockets. "Forgive me - I know you were expecting Sherlock Holmes. I am sorry to disappoint." she spoke with fake cordiality.

"Nothin' to be disappointed 'bout, Miss Black. You 'ave been noticed, just as well as Mr. 'olmes." he told her with courtesy. "You've got yourself a fan." came further. "I, also, 've seen your website - Work of art."

"Thank you. You are flattering me." Raven spoke suspiciously. "But you would have much rather preferred to have Sherlock here, instead of me, correct?"

"You, or Mr. 'olmes, it matters little for me. The both of you are the same - You are clever, and enjoy the thrill." the cabbie smirked for a split second. "Tell you what - If y'want, I'll just stay here, an' you can call the police, and I let 'em take me." he shared eye contact with her for a few very intense seconds. "But you won't do it, will you?" he pressed on. "You want to solve the puzzle, not do justice for the victims."

"You seem to have done your homework quite well." Raven retorted. "Or, perhaps, this fan of mine has been rather active."

The cabbie smiled, but spoke not another word on the matter; he opened the door to the backseat. "Let me take you for a ride."

"So you can kill me too?" the girl smiled sardonically.

"I never killed nobody." he shook his head. "I talked to them - And then - They killed themselves." he affirmed serenely. "If you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing - I will never tell you what I said." the girl couldn't help but gulp. Her sense of self-preservation was being taken over by her love for thrill and murder-mystery. She always did feel alive reading Agatha Christie's books - And now, she was living in one. "Surely, you want to know how those people died, don't you? That's what you truly care about - Not justice."

Without another word, Raven climbed in the backseat, eager, but also anxious and deathly afraid of the consequences of her actions. "Did you know who I was just because I came before you?"

"You stand out, Miss Black; Few ladies who dye their hair that-a-colour; And even fewer this clever." she nodded at that answer. It made perfect sense. It wasn't as if she was hiding herself - She had a blog, and surely, she must have posted a picture of herself there, on some occasion. Even she doesn't quite remember. Or, perhaps, this supposed fan of hers did his homework far better than she'd expected.

"You're not going to tell me more about this mysterious admirer, are you?" the man seemed to affirm her suspicions.

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Whilst Raven was silently analysing the subtle hints around the cab, Sherlock kept trying to think, and think, and ponder, but it was hardly helping. What was so special about a stillborn child, that Jennifer thought to painstakingly carve her name into the wood?

"Hey, Sherlock - When did you turn on the laptop?" John found himself asking.

"Laptop? I haven't turned it on, why would I---" looking at the opened website, his jaw dropped slightly. "Oh...!" he lunged for the suitcase, and attached to a tag, he saw Jennifer's e-mail account; He inserted it into the GPS-location finder, and than the password; "Rachel is the password." he watched with hollow eyes as the website kept struggling to find the location of Jennifer's phone, and then he recalled hearing Raven's voice, so low and delicate compared to the heated mess from earlier; No wonder no one even heard her. She said something - What did she say? Well, there was no one else who could have opened this website, clearly, so she must have figured out this thing.

Did she... Did she outsmart him? HIM? THE Sherlock Holmes himself?

Oh, what a woman, what a woman!

He turned around, ready to kiss her pretty smart head again, "Absolutely brilliant you are---" but she was nowhere in sight. "... Has anyone seen Raven? Where'd she gone?" everyone fumbled around, clueless.

"Oh, finally, you've all quietened down. Such a ruckus!" Mrs. Hudson returned to the flat.

"Mrs. Hudson, quick - Have you seen Raven?! She's disappeared, she--" Sherlock frantically grabbed the old woman's shoulders, quite literally mimicking the earlier behaviour of the forensics doctress, yet with a little more strength in his grip.

"Oh, yes, dearie, she took that cab." Sherlock's mind went blank. "I told her not to - Not dressed like that - Oh, but she was hurrying! I don't know where, but she was!"

"Did she say anything? Anything at all?!" Holmes voice was erratic - Why would she go in the clutches of a serial killer, willingly and weaponless?! Was she mad?! "Mrs. Hudson, that woman went in the cab of a serial killer - Anything she said might help us find her!"

"Oh, poor darling! You have to find her, Sherlock, you simply have!" the old woman exclaimed with worry. "She's told me to tell you that she took the cab - But only when you've finally calmed the waters around - Worried I would get a headache, you see? - And then, she said something else, though quite peculiar, I can't understand why she'd say that, but--"

"But what, Mrs. Hudson? Come on, tell me!" the curly haired detective tried to rush the old woman and her antics.

"She told me to tell you... That she loves her dog the most in this life! Is that some sort of riddle? A code?" everyone around frowned, pondering - Only Holmes knew, just as she anticipated.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Hudson. I'll bring her back safe. I know how to find her." he lunged for the laptop again, searched for her website and input the e-mail in the smartphone GPS-location tracker website, and the password was the name of her old darling - Fifi.

Coincidentally, the tracker for Jennifer's phone, and Raven's phone, were going to the same place: Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why there? Did it mean anything to the cabbie, or was it simply one of those good murder spots that only an inconspicuous taxi driver would know about?

Silly woman; Troubleseeker woman; Danger prone woman! Couldn't you just wait ten more minutes until I'd figure it out, Sherlock thought to himself; Not only was he pissed that the answer completely eluded him, but also, someone outsmarted him! He should have known! She warned him about a cab - He also had been on the lookout for a cab - So why the hell didn't he listen to Mrs. Hudson when she told him about that damn cab? Oh, if only he just listened, for once! But how could he? Lestrade's band of idiots were far too loud! Mrs. Hudson and Raven simply must make their voices heard!

Even he didn't believe that. There was nothing wrong with their voices - There was something wrong with him! If he can't even listen when it matters, what kind of genius detective is he? He wouldn't hear the end of it from Mycroft;  And what's worse - She's dressed like that! She doesn't always think much, does she? The thrill got the best of her - And how could he ever blame her, when he is just the same! How infuriating!

"I've got to save her!" was the last thing Sherlock exclaimed as he comically strode out of the flat, leaving people around think whatever they wanted to think. Still, with the website on, it wasn't difficult to understand the gist of it - Raven had been kidnapped by the serial killer, they had her location, and now they had to go rescue her. Clear as that!

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The cabbie stopped in front of this large building - It was a college, Raven knew, but her orientation skills were lacking far too hard to recognise it, simply by following the streets. The old man opened her door, gesturing for her to exit the taxi. "And you just walk your victims in? How? Manipulation? Blackmail?" the girl asked, only to find herself with a pistol raised to her face. "Oh, come on!" she rolled her eyes, and with a huff, she scurried out of the car, hugging her clothes closer to her vulnerable, petite body. The man led her to a large classroom, where they sat at the table, opposite of each other. She felt so uncomfortable, dressed in her sleeping clothes, more revealing than she was comfortable being seen; How very irritable, being out of the comfort and safety of her home - Outside, with a serial killer! Ridiculous. "So? what now? You said we were going to talk, and then I'll kill myself." Raven leaned back on the chair seat, looking down at the cabbie. "Go ahead. I am waiting."

Thus, the man took out two small glass bottles with screw tops, and put them on the table; Inside of each, there was a single, large capsule; One had a blue tint, and the other was more greenish. "You weren’t expecting that, were yer? Ooh, you’re going to love this." "Love what?" the girl sighed, evidently bored. "I haven't seen much yet."

"Raven Black! Look at you! ’Ere in the flesh." he exclaimed, apparently triumphant for getting her in that exact spot. "Are you sure you're not actually just disappointed it's not Sherlock here? I know - He's the smart, witty one, I get it - And that website of his, pretty clever, agree." she replied simply; If anything, she was hoping the man in cause had come to his senses and was on his way to save her already. She might be impulsively seeking for an answer to these murders, but she wasn't seeking imminent death! "Don't worry, dear. That fan of yours thinks you'd be the perfect bait for him. And that website of yours... He told me about it." the cabbie told her. "Not sure why my fan would think I'd be a great bait for Sherlock, provided that we barely met today." the girl frowned, confused at this supposition.

"Because you are both brilliant, that's why!" the man exclaimed, certain of himself. "You just had to meet, and it was sure you'd hit it off quite well! So did this fan of yours said - And so it happened." he chuckled dryly. "That website of yours - Nefarious Fascinations - Now that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting ’ere, why can’t people think? Don’t it make you mad? Why can’t people just think? The incompetence?" "So you made this string of suspicious murders to attract the police into calling both myself and Sherlock to investigate, and thus, meet; Was that your plan? Truly?" man seemed to be having fun. "You fancy yourself a genius? A proper thinker, then?"

"Don’t look it, do I? Funny little man drivin’ a cab. But you’ll know better in a minute. Chances are it’ll be the last thing you ever know." he seemed so certain of himself; He had such a creepy aura that it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Where was Sherlock when she needed him?

"Okay, two bottles. I've seen this in movies before. One of them is going to kill one of us, you take the other, to make me more excited and actually play this game of yours, and I have to choose the one I think is going to save me, correct? And you're supposed to know which is the good one." she explained, looking carefully at the cabbie. He wasn't that easy to analyse - That's what terminal illness does to you.

"Precisely. Very well, miss Black." great, now he praises her more. 

"Well, why should I? I can just leave the place and call the police." she explained, thinking of a strategy. Should she stall and pray Sherlock gets to her? Or should she come up with her theory and see if she's lucky? Most poisons don't take so little to act - By the time Sherlock gets there, he might be able to save her... Or something.

"I won’t cheat. It’s your choice. I’ll take whatever pill you don’t. Don't you want to see how great your instinct is? Or your deduction power?" she wasn't known for her deductions - That was Sherlock. She shouldn't be here; That supposed fan should know this, if he took so long to stalk her. She's smart, yes, but she will never come anywhere close to Sherlock - And definitely, she wouldn't bet her life on her making a correct deduction choice.

"So this is what you did to the rest of them: you gave them a choice." stalling it was, then. Her only option, until help arrives; Although, there were quite some interesting things she's noticed about this man, his behaviour, and especially what was in the car. 

"And now I’m givin’ you one. You take your time. Get yourself together. I want your best game." Raven found herself huffing; Time to bluff, then. She was a theater kid, she knew how to play - And she's gonna play the hell out of this night.

"It’s not a game. It’s a gamble. Get it right." she snapped at him, rolling her eyes like a spoiled brat.

"I’ve played four times. I’m alive. It’s not chance, it’s chess. It’s a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this ... This ... Is the move." he talked to her with urgency.

"I've never been one to gamble, especially not for my life, for I know I'm considerably unlucky. Hence why this fan took interest in me as well, I suppose. Did he want me dead? Otherwise, I wouldn't quite understand why he chose me, of all people. I just have a website with forensics experiments - Sherlock is the one with the genius deduction skills." she tried to refute, but he wasn't dumb, clearly, he was quite the orator himself.

"But what do you think? Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one. You ready yet?Ready to play?" he was rushing her - Did he know help was on the way? He might be suspecting it by now. Was she out of time?

"Play what? It’s a fifty-fifty chance. Just a gamble. I don't like this one bit." Raven scoffed once again, shifting in her seat.

"You’re not playin’ the numbers, you’re playin’ me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?" the cabbie kept trying to play her, to make her get into his game; He tried to manipulate her perception of this supposed game. "Just luck." she declared plainly.

"Four people in a row? It’s not just chance." he tried to pose, but she was unbudged.

"Ultimate luck." she snapped once again.

"It’s genius. I know ’ow people think. I know ’ow people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my ’ead." he declared oh so brilliantly.

"Everyone’s so stupid – even you." what a bold declaration coming from someone's who's internally panicking out of her mind.

"Or maybe God just loves me." he seemed so confident in himself. "Don't use that Divine Providence rubbish with me. Either way, you’re wasted as a cabbie. You risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?" he pushed one of the bottles towards her.

"Time to play."

"Oh, I am playing. This is my turn, so let me psychoanalyze you a bit. There’s shaving foam behind your left ear ,just so you know - So you live alone. Your wife left you, didn't she - And took those two kids with her. Is that why you kill? This fan of mine - He's your sponsor, isn't he? Can't imagine you're earning much by driving people around, so you retorted to becoming a hitman." Raven smirked at him. "I don't believe you were hired just to get me and Sherlock to meet - That's not the only reason; In fact, I think that was a bonus on your part, to entertain this sponsor. Must have paid your kids real good." she stopped speaking, but her empty smile grew wider. "You're dying. Terminally ill. Can die any moment. That's why you decided to act now - To provide for your children. You don't see them often, do you. Shame." she continued. "So, what is it? Cancer?"

The man smiled sardonically, tapping the side of his head. "Aneurysm. Right in 'ere. Any breath could be my last. That’s the most fun you can ’ave on an aneurysm." he declared boldly.

"I don't doubt you're having fun - But you're not doing it because you're dying; You're doing it because you love your children. You're a father - Of course your children are your soft spot." she looked into his eyes for a bit. "Jennifer was robbed of being a mother - Fourteen years ago, she gave birth, but the child was stillborn. To this day, her passwords are the name of her unborn child. Rachel." she smiled venomously. "Before she died, Jennifer scratched her daughter's name into the floorboards where you left her. She left the phone with you. She was clever - You killed a very clever woman, you see - She led us right to you. Gave us her GPS tracker to find her phone, knowing it would lead to you. That is worthy of praise, isn't it?" "Ohh. You are good, ain’t you? Yes, you are quite correct, she was clever indeed." he grinned for a split second. "I am poor, you are right - When I die, they won’t get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs. My sponsor was generous indeed. For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they’ll be. You see? It’s nicer than you think.You’re not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There’s others out there just like you, except you’re just a girl ... And they’re so much more than that." oh, new information she accidentally extracted! Marvelous! "More? An organisation?" she pried for more.

"There’s a name no-one says, an’ I’m not gonna say it either." that was the finality of his willingness to speak. She's done for. "Now, enough chatter. Time to choose." granted, she's formed a theory in her mind, though she's frightened enough to put it in the motions. It was far-fetched, and she definitely wouldn't gamble her life on it - But, perhaps, it was the only thing she had. "What if I don’t choose either? I could just walk out of here. Or call the cops." at that moment, with a disappointed and cold look in his eyes, he took out the gun; He wasn't just done talking, he was also done waiting. "You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head. Funnily enough, no-one’s ever gone for that option." oh, what an interesting reaction. If no one's ever had the gun, perhaps... It's not even loaded? Could that be it? The way out of this mess?

"I'll have the gun." Raven said, seeing his eyes widening just a little bit. "It doesn't have any bullets in it, does it? Your demeanour changed when you mentioned it - That's the way out of this game. The pills are the game - The gun is the exit. Am I right?"

"Yes, you are quite correct." he chuckled like a tired old man. "You're much better than you realise, Miss Black." he praised, though it felt double-edged. "You see - You were quite correct indeed, for the previous victims, that is. All of them were faced with an ammo-less pistol." he took the magazine out, showing the loaded bullets. "You are an esteemed guest. I couldn't disrespect you by letting you go without playing the real game." that smile of his completely broke her defenses. She's done for, and there's no way out.

"Very well." she nodded her head, trying to keep her composure. "Okay." she looked at the table - The pill with the slightly blue granules was in the bottle in front of her; The slightly green one was in front of the man. There were two glasses of bottle on the table. "I will choose a pill - But you have to take it at the same time as me. Does that work? With a gun to my forehead, I won't back down. I will take it - But you owe me at least that courtesy, yes?"

"Fine. Be that way." at once, Raven slammed her head over the pill bottle; She forced her hands not to tremble as she unscrewed it and felt the pill in her hand, fiddling it with her fingers. Her other hand was gripping tightly the water glass, and she was staring intently at the man, who wasn't touching the water at all. Was that the sign? Was the water poisoned, and not the pills? It had to be that, right? "Are you quite sure with your choice, Miss Black? You can always change your mind, you know?" was he... Taunting her? "You're real clever - But are you clever enough to beat an old cabbie? Clever enough to bet your life?" he continued with his mocking remarks. "Or, perhaps... We should continue this stalling until Sherlock Holmes finally comes to your rescue, and defeats me? That's what you were waiting for, wasn't it? For your hero to save you - You're afraid for your life." he chuckled, playing with that pill. "You're bored out of your mind - But your life is more precious than the thrill of mystery? I wouldn't quite think so." he cocked the gun and pointed it towards her face. "Now."

In one swift move, both the cabbie and the bluenette threw those pills down their throat; Raven's eyes were watering, and her throat was hurting her; She's never taken a pill without water before, this was horrifyingly painful - She felt like she was choking, she wanted to claw her throat out so she could breathe. Her mouth felt too dry to even produce enough saliva to get that pill down properly--

But finally, after so much struggle, that blasted pill made its way down her throat, and into her stomach. "Are you satisfied now?" her voice was raw and whispery from the pain and lack of proper breathing.

"Quite so, Miss Black. You have proven worthy of your fan's attention." he answered - She couldn't help but wonder how the hell did he take so many pills with no water. It's agonising. 

"Then tell me his name. Surely, I deserve to know, after I've beaten this game, right?" the man chuckled, nodding his name.

"Now that you've beaten me, I'm a dead man anyway - It's the only thing I'll tell you." and thus he answered with a single name. 

"Moriarty"

 In that exact moment, two things happened simultaneously - Sherlock burst through the door, whilst John Watson shot the man in the chest; He didn't have time to plead or speak, for his aneurysm popped, and he died in an instant. Raven remained in her chair, spooked and startled out of her mind, but frozen on the spot. That was far too much adrenaline and stress falling down on her in a split second - She feels like she needs a long vacation afterwards.

"What the hell happened?" Sherlock frowned, looking at the dead cabbie, and at the girl; He noticed her being unresponsive, then the two untouched water glasses, and the empty glass bottles. "The pills - Did you take it? Did he force you to play his game?" she nodded her head. "Lestrade's outside with the ambulance, let's go -- We can still lavage the poison away with some activated coal, and--" before she could speak, the lady found herself being picked up bridal style; The change in scenery was enough to bring her back to earth.

"Oh! Hey! Don't surprise me like that!" her heart was still beating like crazy. "I've had enough for a while. Give me a second - I need to regain myself. My mind is all over the place." she spoke, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck.

"... Did you really just take poison?" she shook her head. "What happened in there."

"A lot." she coughed dryly, grimacing at the pain. "Don't worry. I haven't taken poison. I'm safe. I won." his eyes widened.

"You won!" she nodded. "Ha! I needn't come to your rescue - You rescued yourself! How quaint. So much for a British gentleman!" his dramatic speech, he knew, would ease her nerves. "But British ladies don't go running around London, in the middle of the night, wearing silk negligee."

"Well - Luckily, I'm not British." she chuckled weakly. "I didn't think this would exhaust me like this."

"Where from Europe are you? Definitely not North, West... Somewhere close to the Center-East, right? Your accent is soft, and you pronounce words carefully. You've been here for quite a few years though - You've developed a bit of a London accent." he pointed out, feeling her muscles slowly relax, bit by bit.

"Romanian." she affirmed. "And no, Raven is not my real name, but a nickname I've been having since early highschool days. Thought it would be easier for people to pronounce my name like that - Until I had the chance to legally change my real name, so an English equivalent." she explained it quite simply. "But don't mention it yet. I've just recently managed to get my papers done."

"Noted." the man smirked, smug to know his theories were correct. "I know a Chinese restaurant closeby. Opened till 2. Shall we? John's waiting."

"Yeah... Sounds good. Although..." she looked down at her outfit. "Awkward."

"I made sure to grab your coat before I left." that smile she offered him as he mentioned his attention to detail - What a lovely, yet tired smile she had. "How did it go?"

"The game? Well... Two pills, one blueish, the other greenish - Though I could have been fooled by the dim lights - And two glasses of water. Frankly - He had a gun; I was sure it was a fake, based on his changed demeanour - It was either getting shot, or taking the pill, so I thought the gun was fake - But I've never seen a gun in my life, so I couldn't tell. I just thought - Since he mentioned no one ever chose the gun, then perhaps, that was the safe bet." he nodded his head, encouraging for her to continue. "But he showed me the bullets - Said the other guns were fake, yes - But this one definitely wasn't, and thus, I had to play."

"How did you know what pill to take?" his professional curiosity was killing him.

"I... Didn't." she admitted.

"What?!" he was stupefied. Did this foolish girl gamble her life away, even if she wasn't sure she was right? Surely, he would never - He is always CERTAIN of his choices; His deduction skills are good enough to have confidence that he'd never die, were it to come to such a scenario. "What do you mean - You didn't know? You just said you weren't poisoned. How do you know?"

"Well... I kept insisting this is a game of chance, not of wits. He, however, said it's chess - So I started thinking a little further. What if it wasn't about the pills, but external factors? He couldn't win through bluffs four times in a row, if it was a coin flip, right? So... I figured out the variable - But I couldn't be sure it was the right one." she instinctively touched her neck.

"What was it?" Sherlock asked, unsure of why she was touching her neck.

"I swallowed the pill with no water." oh, of course, how silly! How simple! "I had him take the pill at the same time as me - As soon as I noticed he wasn't going to touch the water, I realised that was it - Or at least, so I thought. He confirmed me after my coughing fit stopped. You see, I've never taken a pill without water before. It's traumatising."

"So then - We could have tried him to court for serial murder." Sherlock pointed out, though his mind was still at this game. He would have figured it out - Right?

"Well... Possible not." she muttered softly. "He didn't die from the gunshot. His aneurysm popped." she continued, a little hesitant. "The two of us have been set up."

"What do you mean?" he frowned; Finally, they had arrived at the ambulance where the paramedic put an ugly orange shock blanket on her back. 

"Awful colour. I hate orange." she huffed. "The mastermind was a man called Moriarty. He... His organisation... They've been watching us. They've planned this string of murders, knowing we would eventually meet, due to our work circumstances - And that would make for a very amusing situation. This Moriarty was his sponsor - Paid his children for every murder he committed, and a bonus if he managed to get us to meet in person." she continued to explain the story. "And... He's been stalking us. He knows about us very well - The cabbie went as far as to call him our Fan, of all things. Whoever he is, he's done his homework on us very well."

"Moriarty, huh? Never heard of him." he patted her head, as if to stop the conversation; It wasn't a talk for a traumatised woman who wanted little to do with death-doors like that. She was petrified of what just happened; She gave him enough information to get him to investigate as much as possible from the next day onwards. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out." he threw away that blanket, replacing it with her elegant trench, even going as far as to button it up properly, so her nightwear wouldn't show off so much. "I'll talk Lestrade away - Play the shock card - Then we can get away. Sounds good?" she nodded, and he did just that; Shooed the detective away, under the pretense of speaking the next day.

Sherlock wrapped his arm around the lady's body, guiding her towards John Watson, who was now walking perfectly without his cane. He seemed genuinely sympathetic for what she'd been through - Needless to say, he saved her by shooting the cabbie. "Thank you for saving me, you two. I know it was a reckless call on my part."

"Reckless is an understatement." John chuckled, still a little under the effect of his bewilderment. "You climbed in the car of a serial killer - And you knew that! Why?"

"Because... No one was hearing me speak, and I was a little afraid we'd lose him." she explained, shifting a little awkwardly from leg to leg. "I did make sure Mrs. Hudson told Sherlock what was going on. Figured that, once things get a little calmer, either of you would figure out the GPS-thing and find us."

"Still... Sergeant Donovan’s just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn’t it? Dreadful. You must have been terrified." John clearly had all the emotional intelligence that Sherlock was lacking. "I couldn't have done it without the confidence I had in the two of you." she smiled gratefully at the two of them. "And... John? That was a fantastic shot. Thank you. It couldn't have been easy - Through two windows..." "Just need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don’t suppose you’d serve time for this, but let’s avoid the court case." he declared with a bit of mischief in his voice. "Are you all right? Both of you."

"You never feel more alive than when you're close to death." Raven found herself exhaling in relief. "Yes, of course I’m all right." came John's answer. "Well, you have just killed a man." Sherlock peered onto him. "Yes, I ...That’s true, innit? But he wasn’t a very nice man." spoken like a true war veteran. "No. No, he wasn’t really, was he?" the detective agreed with him. "And frankly a bloody awful cabbie. That’s true." John chimed back in.

"Oh, but he was a bad cabbie! I got even more lost than I already was, with all the lefts and rights he took!" Raven dramatically spoke out.   "Stop! Stop, we can’t giggle, it’s a crime scene! Stop it!" John was barely capable of stifling his laughter. These two were such an adorable duo. "Fine, fine - Dinner?" they were all in agreement, only for Watson to stop dead in his tracks, gesturing towards the mysterious arch-enemy of Sherlock Holmes. As expected, he knew just who it was.

The man approached the trio, waving around his shut umbrella nonchalantly. He seemed like a confident man, almost mocking, yet still playful and... With a certain warmth towards Sherlock. Family member? "So, another case cracked. How very public spirited ... Though that’s never really your motivation, is it?" "What are you doing here?" Sherlock was rather hostile towards this very smiling man - Although, this smile was... Impassive. He seemed sort of... Unreachable, but also, quite friendly. A man of many faces. An enigma. "As ever, I’m concerned about you." for some reason, Raven actually believed him.

"Yes, I’ve been hearing about your ‘concern’." is this some kind of heated sibling rivalry? Is Sherlock envious of this brother - An older brother? "Always so aggressive." they did share some theatrical traits. "Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?" fascinating theory! "Oddly enough, no!" was it an ego thing?

"Forgive me for asking, Mister... Are you Sherlock's older brother? I sense a very strong, one-sided sibling rivalry going on." and to prove a point, Sherlock glared at her quite offended. "Mycroft Holmes." he introduced himself. "Yes, Miss Katrina, you are quite right - And yes, congratulations on your papers finally being accepted, took them long enough - Sherlock and I have more in common than he likes to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... And you know how it always upset Mummy." such a grown man, yet he speaks so sweetly of his mother - What a model!

"Aw! Your mother must be such a lovely lady!" she always did have a soft spot for good parents. She quite missed her own. "I upset her? Me? It wasn’t me that upset her, Mycroft." Sherlock was on the offensive again. "No, no, wait. Mummy? Who’s Mummy?" John still couldn't believe that the so-called arch-enemy was, in fact, Sherlock's older brother. "Mother – Our mother. This is my brother, Mycroft." Sherlock finally introduced the mystery man. "Putting on weight again?" what a low blow! "Losing it, in fact." Mycroft was proud of himself. "He’s your brother?!" poor Watson was flabbergast, perhaps, the most by this revelation, as opposed to everything else happening lately. "Of course he’s my brother." with the way he behaves, one could hardly guess. "So he’s not ... I dunno – Criminal mastermind?" John asked, looking between the two. "Close enough." the younger Holmes grumbled. "You two are quite adorable!" the bluenette chimed in.

"Glad to know this amuses you, Miss Katrina, but for goodness’ sake, Sherlock. I occupy a minor position in the British government." downplaying his underground role, just like a true politician. "He is the British government - When he’s not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis." Sherlock was done with his brother. "Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic." he started walking ahead, towards the Chinese restaurant, not wanting to have his night completely ruined by his sibling. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Mycroft." the girl smiled at him. "And I wouldn't take him too seriously - He's still a child at heart. Likes to play and all that."

"Wait, so, when - when you say you’re concerned about him, you actually are concerned?" the poor army doctor still couldn't grasp how insane their relationship was. Mycroft affirmed. "I mean, it actually is a childish feud?"

"You don't need to know Sherlock for more than a day to know that his ego is his biggest downfall. He's that kind of bratty younger sibling that always causes mischief -- But he's also the cutest." Mycroft let out a small chuckle at that affirmation; She's met him for less than a day, yet pin-pointed him so well. "He’s always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners." both John and Raven - No, Katrina; She can officially call herself by her real name now - Both of them let out their own reactions, imagining a family dinner with these two around, trying not to blow up the Christmas tree! "I-I’d better, um ... Let's go, Raven." John shuffled awkwardly. "Good night."

"Don't worry about him, Mr. Mycroft. He's in good hands, I assure you." Katrina stole a glance at the doctor. "What Sherlock lacks in emotional intelligence, John has plenty. I'd say, there's no better flat mate for Sherlock, than John." she nodded, looking at the two men teasing each other in the distance. The younger Holmes' mood had brightened up as soon as the army doctor came by his side. "Have a lovely evening - And we will keep in touch. He... I am sure he will benefit from any person who genuinely cares about him. I don't suppose there's many." with one last smile, the lady turned around, waving carefree. "Adieu~!"

"Good night, Doctor Kat." with a little chuckle, Mycroft found himself using the nickname she's been using in the past; A nickname that had a nice ring to it. Clever woman, this one, and intuitive. Just what his foolish little brother needs to keep in check, perhaps. She was right - With Doctor Watson by his side, he's sure to be just fine... Or... The two of them might just make his younger brother worse than ever. By the time the lady caught up to the two men, they had already joked about the fortune cookie predictions, about his shoulder shot from Afghanistan, and more - Moriarty - Whoever that may be. They were adorable; Their conversations, their company, they were so pleasant and comfortable to be around - And the restaurant served great food indeed!

It was already 2 in the morning, and the employees kicked them out; It was time to retire for the night and finally sleep. Sherlock Holmes walked the lady up to her door, and made sure she was safe, at least here. "Keep your brilliant little brain safe, will you? Recklessly jumping into the car of a serial killer isn't quite the normalcy I expected from you." he chuckled lightly, before looking at her, a weirdly tender look in his gorgeous, gorgeous eyes. "You did good - But it's not worth, if you get killed."

"That only means you have to hear my voice when I accidentally have revelations, so you can go be the hero and play that dangerous, death-promising game without implicating me." she teased him back. "I don't get how you manage to deal with the thrill - Regardless - I and John will continue to support you through it all... Even with the whole Moriarty thing. Whether we like it or not, we're in this together."

"Finally, a reason to use this." he tapped the side of his head. "The game is on."

Next Chapter >

[jenukiart]

OC Stuff - Coin Tea

(the 4 of them haha)

Collection of Coin Tea doodles!! This is another OC story thing, it's like a slice-of-life/comedy like Azumanga and Nichijou, about these four high school kids in California and their silly day-to-day adventures.

I wanna call this story something stupidly long like "Coin Tea for 99¢" and you can say it the cool way like "coin tea 4-9-9-C" haha :P but it's just Coin Tea for short!!

Penny

There's Penny, the cool Brazilian girl who's very upbeat, happy, easily excited, and a little to eager to try things. She's like my ADHD but awesome. She does things head first, but she has her other friends behind her back to keep her in check. Penny and her family moved from Brazil when she was really little, so she's lived most of her life in Cali!

Nickel

Nickel's the total opposite. He's the pessimist to Penny's optimism. He's usually nervous, anxious, overly cautious, and easily embarrassed. He also has an incredible bad luck streak, it's insane how he does it. Regardless Nickel still is a very caring person, his worrying is just how he shows his appreciation for the others.

Dime

Dime is the go with the flow character. She's basically right in between Penny and Nickel on the scale, and just rolls with whatever Penny and Nickel wanna do. She's really laid back, and often the one that keeps Penny in-check from doing anything toooo crazy. Her parents are also from Argentina!! I only added that because they won the recent world cup haha.

Dime was designed by @itscruiseelroy!! Go give him a follow!!

Yen

Yen is a transfer student who just recently moved from Japan and to Penny's hometown. She's very laconic, but everyone still just understands her vibe regardless. Despite how quiet she is, she's really active in many activities like playing for the school's baseball team! Yen is pretty much a master at everything. To a comedic degree she basically can do anything, and is often extremely lucky too (poor Nickel..)

Yen was made by @yamasztuka!! Go give them a follow too!!

That's all though!! I hope you like the coin crew!! ^^,