#smok rings

[surpriseandsmiles]

Cbd capsules Cbd shatter smok rings Smok smok v8 smok stick v8 smok novo 2 Nic salt nicotine shots liquid vape vape juice elf bar vapes elux bars cbd oil uk cbdshop cbd shop near me cbd uk buy cbd oil uk buy cbd cbd cbd e liquid cbd gummy bears where can i buy cbd oil cbd gummies cbd vape liquid elf bars elf bar elf bar flavours elf bar 600 disposable vape uk geek bar vape uk For more details click here https://vapourzlounge.co.uk/exploring-the-flavours-and-performance-of-the-elf-bar-600/

Vapourz Lounge is a top vape store in London providing the high –quality E-cigarettes, Vaping devices, Vape Kits, refillable vape pods and anarchist vape hardware online at the best price. Whether you are looking for e liquids or vaping devices,Voopoo,Voopoo drag max, Vape shop near me,Smok london, smok rings london you’ll find everything here. Buy these amazing vaping products now and get FREE UK Delivery on Orders Over £ 50! Visit now at Vapourzlounge.co.uk or Call Us: + 44 20 8767 6012!

[l4long-winded]

o.s. the phone call regarding the onions

summary: richie won't stop calling and despite how busy carmen is, he picks up the phone. he didn't know richie would take so long to tell him about his trip to the farmer's market, let alone how impatient you would be in his lap (carmen berzatto x afab!reader)

reflection: i wrote this last night and edited it this afternoon. i find i have a hard time writing dialogue because i always want it to flow with my other descriptions. it's tricky for me, so this was an interesting challenge for myself. indulgent? yes. but intriguing nonetheless. as always, enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

warnings: cursing, kissing, phone call during sex, riding, religious allusions, more cursing, pussydrunk!carmen (the best kind), longwinded descriptions, slander of the elderly, cynicism, filth, secret girlfriend!reader, humorous dialogue, richie being richie, set before or during season 1 ig, double entendre ending, very slight dirty talk, overuse of the word "cousin" (please let me know if there are other warnings i need to add)

word count: 2,101

“Are you even listening to me, Cousin?” Richie’s voice irritates Carmen’s eardrum drastically more than it usually does, and that’s saying something considering how his tone and words always sift right under the flesh of Carmen’s forearms to scrape against his bones. He should really tell Richie to shut the fuck up, to get to the godforsaken point of this overdrawn story about his trip to the grocers, but Carmen can’t find the speech in him to do so. As a defensive and sharp individual, Carmen seldom runs into the issue of not being able to come back with a witty remark of his own speckled in a seasoning of honesty, but his brain’s already having difficulty concentrating on his shallow breathing. If he loses focus on that particular aspect, he would never hear the end of it. Richie’s too much of a pain in the ass to hang up on, in fact, he’s part of the reason Carmen’s in this predicament.

Richie just had to keep on calling over and over and over and over again. Carmen’s phone buzzed and buzzed and buzzed and the motherfucker on the other end would not take the fucking hint. Carmen recalls catching the flustered, frustrated, and deprived expression on your features as you looked at him, disappointment in your blown pupils because you knew you had to climb off his lap in the middle of your shared fun. Carmen assured you that it wouldn’t take long, to remain where you were because he couldn’t bear to depart from your heat for a single second in this state of mind, the state of nothingness possessed by desire. He’s confronted that compelling phenomenon too often with you and it’s absolutely everything for him. Richie’s call, Carmen surmised and explained to you during the fifth ring, would only take three minutes, five at the most.

Carmen forgets how bad at math he is until it smacks him upside the face and attempts to ruin his day. Richie’s been yapping on the line for about… how long has it been? Carmen stares up at the ceiling, phone pressed to his ear, pink lips parting as your tongue and teeth glissade down his neck. He can feel his body’s primal need to roll his eyes far into the back of his head, but he somehow sustains his half lidded gaze so he can raise his phone away from his ear to check the call’s duration.

14:53. 14:54. 14:55.

Seriously? Fifteen minutes of this bullshit? Carmen’s close to tossing his phone across the room so he can fuck you properly against his bedroom door, but he knows Richie. Richie would bolt on over here to tell Carmen his story in person, stomp away on Carmen’s remnants of alone time with you before he’s back to busting his ass in the kitchen. Carmen can’t have that. A fucking crowbar couldn’t pry you off his cock, and he’s sighing out shakily, pushing the mic away from his mouth far off to the side of the couch and into the cushion so he can release the tendril of fucked out noise you’re igniting in his stomach. Its smoke is climbing up and up, swirling around his lungs, collapsing into purrs and grunts of pleasure since he can’t be any louder than that. You haven’t made his mistake easy on him, fluttering your walls around him, arching as you rise and fall, adding in your lips and dutiful tongue into the sum of his impending eruption. He notices the twinkle atop the slim rings of your irises, how in awe and turned on you are from hearing those little noises he can’t will himself to wrangle down.

Do you like that?

He mouths.

Yes,

you nod your head.

For a moment, resolve slips. Carmen’s other hand maneuvers from gripping the throw pillow on his couch to gripping your thigh, sliding slightly down where he sits so he can roll his hips up into you. He revels in the gasp you inhale, your hands steadying yourself by the use of his shoulders. A ghost of a smile forms on his lips catching your pout and he’s about to inform you to behave when his phone speaks from under the cushion, still in Carmen’s other hand as he was trying to metaphorically and literally smother Richie, but the bastard’s gumption defeats Carmen’s efforts. He tightens his top and bottom lip together as he snatches the phone in agitation from under the cushion to lift it back to his ear.

“Carmy? Carmy? I’m fucking talking to you, Carmy,” Richie grits out, the bass in his voice scratching an unpleasant portion of Carmen’s ear. Carmen shuts his eyes, instructing himself soundlessly to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth… the same mouth you kiss, your hands cupping his cheeks, tongue shyly petting his. He should put a stop to it. He’s powerless when you kiss him, it’s why he avoided doing so this entire phone call with Richie. He knew he couldn’t stop you, the hand once at your thigh palming up to your ass, his middle finger slipping under the fabric of your lacy panties that you still had on. It rests there, like it’s part of the ensemble (or lack of), twitching and clutching as the lace hugs him and tethers his digit to you.

“Hey, bozo, are you going to answer me or not?” Richie snarls, and Carmen almost tells him to fuck off, but you’re the one who takes mercy on him. Your mouth slides back down, lapping over a sensitive vein in his neck. Carmen finds himself falling back into the couch, licking his dry lips, a desire in him present to curse his friend out.

“I hear you, Richie, I fucking hear you,” Carmen blurts suddenly. He’s got a breathy rasp to him due to the sex, crimson in the face, yelling almost in the same fashion he does at work. You hide your amused grin under your hair as you tenderly kiss his jaw, picking up the speed of your hips. Before, your movements were gentle and small. But now, you have intention as you fuck yourself on Carmen’s cock, sucking spots on his skin to conceal your moans away. The worst part is that even though Carmen can barely hear them, he can feel the hum of each one vibrating against his flesh. And it feels like he knows you sound. How does someone begin to describe that? The walls of a cathedral must know exactly what he’s experiencing, angelic hums reverberating through their surfaces, etching sound waves into crevices and making them whole. That’s it. He feels whole. Complete. It’s almost as good as when he swallows those moans into his mouth and feels them alive in his throat.

“Yeah? Yeah? Then what the fuck did I say, huh?”

Shit… yeah, what the fuck did he say? Carmen’s horrid at multitasking outside his craft and he’s especially inept at maintaining his control and composure when he’s watching his secret girlfriend impale herself repeatedly on his throbbing length. He closes his eyes again to subtract sight’s distraction, middle finger sweeping back and forth so that your lace can rub his knuckle and jog along his memory. Oddly enough, it helps him collect the thoughts you’re so keen on dissipating with those gorgeous, enticing hips of yours.

“You said… you went to the farmer’s market,” Carmen begins, gulping heavily as you clench. “You went to… uh,” Carmen tilts his phone away from his mouth, biting hard on his index finger to refrain from hissing out. He glares at you, you’re being unfair, and the mischief is written all over your gaze despite the innocent smile you attempt to give him. He’s definitely going to pay this back. He’s not a saint, he holds grudges, and he’s harboring one against you for almost causing him to moan into his phone.

“Carmy,” Richie disrupts Carmen’s plans for vengeance and fortunately, Carmen instantly recalls what they were talking about like an epiphany, no thanks to you.

“You went to pick up the onions!” Carmen rushes, his syllables spilling over one another. He hates how he sounds. It’s different from his regular speaking voice and if they weren’t dealing with shitty cell service, Richie probably would’ve noticed.

“Then, what? I’ve been talking for almost twenty minutes,” oh, Carmen fucking knows, “and that’s all you’ve gotten from that?”

“Richie,” Carmen says as sternly as he can as your tightness sinks to his base. He sucks onto his upper row of teeth, pulsing increasing, lighting up with heat inside of your delectable walls. This is your fault, too. You and your enveloping warmth. You and your pretty face and your pretty cunt and your persistent needs, your pliant open legs as you ride him and make him drunk without a smidgen of alcohol around. He might as well have bathed himself in scotch, the effects most likely easier to handle than the vise you’ve got on his mind, body, and cock. “Did you, or did you not get the fucking onions?”

Richie scoffs, “Ugggghhhhhhh,” into Carmen’s ear. Annoyed by it, Carmen grips his phone tighter as he pushes it away from his head for as long as Richie does it. He shakes his hair out of his eyes as he retracts the phone back to its original position, his stare greedily finding where his cock disappears and reappears with more and more of that wonderful slick that glides him in deeper and deeper. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! The fucking old broad from the lot gave me that dirty ass look as she took all of the product right in front of me. What the fuck is some old chick with a bad hip going to do with sixteen onions, Carmy? She had her stumbling grandson with his little toddler hands dropping the motherfuckers on the floor right in front of me because he couldn’t carry them all. Like, are you kidding me? Are you cooking French Onion soup for the whole neighborhood? For the next winter?”

“Richie,” Carmen grinds out as you grind down on him. His teeth clatter as he scrapes them together. “Richie… Richie…” He can’t gain Richie’s attention back as he rants in Carmen’s ear, as you swivel your hips and whine at the stretch. Carmen’s holding himself back, painfully hard from the experience you’re condoning.

“Next time I see her, it’s on. Watch what fucking soup she can make when I buy the whole stock and flip her the bird,” Richie continues, the sound of a trunk being harshly slammed on the other end. But Carmen’s had enough. He can’t take it anymore. He feels feral, he’s going to burst any second and he refuses to do so with Richie still on the line.

“Cousin, Cousin, Cousin, Cousin,” Carmen parrots, rolling his eyes as he increases his volume with each repetition.

On the other side, Richie talks over him. “She’s driving some ugly ass Pontiac, no wonder she’s bitter.”

“Cousin, Cousin, listen to me.”

“Do you think they’ll notice me if I take a stab at one of her tires?”

“Richie!”

“Nah, you’re right, it looks like there’s a bunch of fucking narcs around here.”

“Motherfucker, stop talking,” Carmen spits and that’s when Richie shouts back, his own irritation building because that entire time, he could hear Carmen babbling on and on. Apparently no one knows how to listen to a fucking story anymore.

“What? What, Carmy?” Richie responds with a yell. He must be inside of his car because Carmen heard a crash right after. Carmen pinches the bridge of his nose having finally snaked his other hand away from your underwear.

“So, you’re telling me… you don’t have the onions?” Carmen asks.

Richie sighs. The reason he felt the need to orate what happened is because of Carmen’s temper regarding the restaurant. He had one task today and he failed it because of some greedy elderly woman. Though, he understands how Carmen’s busy. Through this phone call, Richie hasn’t been able to hold his Cousin’s focus for very long. He doesn’t think there was any interval longer than three minutes where he had it all to himself.

“No, I… I don’t ha—”

The line goes dead. Richie looks down at his phone, fully tempted to call Carmen one more time to explain himself and make his stubborn, mule-headed friend see his point of view for once. He only doesn’t because he swears Carmen sounded like he was about to explode.

[axailslink]

would do riri with a R who love to sleep whenever they can❤️

She's so beautiful when she's sleeping

Riri Williams x black! FEM reader

Summary: you fall asleep on face time and Riri comes and visits your apartment with breakfast from waffle house.

"Babe? Babe? Baby? Love? Mamas? damn...she really fell asleep on me again she's always sleeping." Riri smiles to herself until she remembers "fuck she didn't eat" she gets up and pulls on the first clothing items she sees sprawled about her room which are some Nike sweats, a black jacket, and some slides. She makes sure to grab her wallet, keys and a water bottle the side of the campus Riri was on they're not as strict about the curfew so she could always really easily slip in and out. "Hey Mr Thompson so imma be real with you my girlfriend hasn't eaten anything today I'm going to buy her something however you could just let me go or we could race to my car and see who wins." Mr. Thompson shakes his head "go just be back tonight if you're not don't let me see you sneak back in" she nods and gives him a thumbs up she checks her phone and smiles at your little ugly sleeping face.

Riri loves you at what you'd consider your worst but she thinks seeing you like this is the most beautiful version of yourself. She mutes herself as she gets in the car and starts it up immediately driving to your favorite waffle house the one that knows you personally. When she walks in she gets something she knows you'll eat and her go to which is a Texas bacon cheese steak melt with a sunny side egg and grits. "Riri it's twelve at night how's my girl doing?" Riri glances at her phone then your uncle "she's still a bit of an idiot uhm she went to sleep without eating again so I'm doing my girlfriend duties." He nods and smiles "so when you gone marry her?" Riri laughs and stuffs her hands in her pockets "when we're done with school maybe..." He smiles and slides a little envelope across the table.

"She'd want it to be this ring" she reaches to open it but he taps her hand "don't not until you both are ready" he glances back at the other workers and grabs your food giving it to her she grabs the envelope and stuffs it in her pocket while handing him the money "thanks unc" he nods as she leaves. Riri and your uncle have been very close since they met. You weren't exactly sure why, but you never questioned it. You honestly thought it was kind of cute. Since the rest of your family wasn't too fond of her or your relationship at all, well that excludes your mother, she was a true sweetheart. But the rest of your family sucks ass so it doesn't really matter to you.

When Riri arrives at your apartment she carefully lets herself in with her copy key and locks the door back. She picks up a bit seeing that you have certain things strolled about before she finally walks to your room and just watches you momentarily. "She looks so damn tired" she turns the light on and hops on your bed food in hand you groan and grab her leg "it's twelve in the fucking morning calm it down short cake" she laughs as she sits down beside you and move your cover as she places your food on your lap you sit up and rub your eyes. "Baby I just want to go to sleep" she nods "that's crazy I just want you to eat plus I mean I bought your favorite after all even with my broke college student money" you laugh and smile at her "you bought my favorite?" She nods as she opens her own food and hands you a fork. "Thank you" she presses a kiss to your hand "of course now eat at least a little something before you go back to sleep." You just can't help but smile at her no one has ever cared about you this much except for your mother it was kind of creepy...your mother always told you "you won't find love until you find someone who makes you eat." You did just that so maybe you have found love.

"You have to get a stable sleep schedule baby because sleeping at random is not okay for your health" you look at her with a waffle halfway in your mouth "you want to talk to me about health stop smoking weed" she laughs and busies herself into her food "that's what I thought pothead." She smiles and slaps your thigh "eat your fucking food."

A/n: I swear y'all give me a request and make up a whole scenario

[ruins-and-rewritez]

Highlights of The Hobbit

"No adventures are wanted here today"

"He eats it by the block"

That's what Bilbo Baggins hates! What a jam

"Stop! I forgot my handkerchief"

"What's a burgler 'obbit"

"The trick is to skin them first" followed by "They're all invested with parasites"

Saurman pretending he ain't evil

Bilbo ducking down and the gobs just walking away

Goblin king rhyming his sentences like a casual

"Can we eats it?" "Shut up"

My man kills a whole ass goblin and still thinks he's gonna eat Bilby

That moment when Bilbo is so obviously regretting all those second breakfasts

Pale orc straight up telling some other bish to kill Thorin instead of doing it hisself and then getting mad that he can't do it later

Thorin finally accepting that Bilbo is awesome

Gandalf taking them to the 'skin-changers' house even tho there's a fifty-fifty chance that he'll straight up kill them

Wood elves in their entirety

Kili flirting with elf girl cause he for real has nothing to lose at this point

Dwarfs being hyped Bilby comes to the rescue when there are obvi gonna be guards around

Barrel escape

Legolot using dwarf bois as stepping stones

That double headshot

Dol Guldor being super pointy for absolutely no reason

Covering dwarves in fish

"Why are dwarfses coming out of our toilet?" "Will they bring us luck"

Scumbag mayor acting like he's all that

Alfrid (existing. How is he bot been killed honestly)

Twelves months in. Bilbo still don't know what he's suppose to be stealing

Not taking the black spear with the in case Smog wakes up from his nap (it would literally be so easy, ring disappear, stab.)

"It's a big white stone." No other descriptors

Smok monologing for like 2 years know he full well gonna fry these bois

"There are no dwarfves here loll whatttt"

To be Continued

[ecig-canada-zone-ultimate]

SMOK Nord 4 is a pod system kit is the newest evolution of the Nord series. The size of the Nord 4 body has become more compact, the color of the panel has been changed, and a fashionable and durable leather series has been added, providing 12 beautiful color options. Besides, two air-inlet rings are cleverly designed on the top of the device for free adjustment of air-intake. In order to handle the extra wattage, the SMOK Nord 4 Kit upgrades the battery capacity to a long-lasting 2000mAh. The Type-C port significantly improves the charging time and is equipped with the OLED display screen for show vape data. The power of the Nord 4 pod kit is as high as 80 watts, which can easily meet all your e-cigarette needs. It has a 4.5ml e-juice capacity and is compatible with RPM & RPM 2 coils only so we all have no clue why they call it a NORD :) Features: 2000mAh Built-in Battery 80W Maximum Power Intelligent Detection Side OLED Display Screen Type-C Fast Charging 4.5ml RPM & RPM 2 coils ONLY Side Fill System - Silicone Stoppered Side Airflow Adjustment Ring Support DL/MTL Vaping It Includes: 1x Nord 4 Device 1x Nord 4 RPM2 Pod (Mesh 0.16OHM) 1x Nord 4 RPM Pod (Mesh 0.4OHM) 1x Type-C Cable 1x User Manual

[vapeherestore]

Discover the SMOK Nord 4: A Perfect Blend of Power and Portability

In the ever-evolving world of vaping, finding a device that perfectly balances power, portability, and user-friendly features can be a challenge. Enter the SMOK Nord 4—a versatile pod system that has quickly become a favorite among both new and experienced vapers alike. Whether you're looking for a reliable device for daily use or something that offers a bit more customization, the Nord 4 is definitely worth considering.

Design and Build Quality

The first thing you'll notice about the SMOK Nord 4 is its sleek and compact design. Available in a variety of colors and finishes, the Nord 4 is as stylish as it is functional. Despite its small size, this device feels sturdy and well-made, offering a comfortable grip that makes it easy to carry around in your pocket or bag.

One of the standout features of the Nord 4 is its adjustable airflow system. Located on the sides of the device, the two airflow rings allow you to fine-tune your vaping experience, whether you prefer a tight, restricted draw or a more open, airy feel. This level of customization is rare in pod systems, making the Nord 4 a great option for vapers who like to experiment with different settings. Performance and Battery Life

When it comes to performance, the SMOK Nord 4 does not disappoint. Powered by a robust 2000mAh built-in battery, this device can easily last a full day on a single charge, even for heavy vapers. The Nord 4 supports a maximum output of 80 watts, which is impressive for a device of this size. Whether you're using freebase nicotine e-liquids or nicotine salts, the Nord 4 delivers consistently smooth and flavorful vapor.

The Nord 4 is compatible with two different pod options: the RPM 2 Pod and the RPM Pod, each designed for different coil types. This flexibility allows you to switch between different coils depending on your vaping style, whether you prefer sub-ohm vaping with high VG e-liquids or mouth-to-lung vaping with higher nicotine content. The pods have a 4.5ml e-liquid capacity, reducing the need for frequent refills.

Ease of Use

One of the reasons the SMOK Nord series has been so popular is its ease of use, and the Nord 4 continues this tradition. The device features a simple, single-button operation, making it incredibly user-friendly. The OLED display screen on the front of the device provides all the information you need, including wattage, battery life, and coil resistance, in a clear and easy-to-read format.

Refilling the pods is straightforward and mess-free, thanks to the side-fill system. Simply remove the rubber plug, fill the pod with your favorite e-liquid, and you’re good to go. The strong magnetic connection ensures that the pod stays securely in place, preventing any accidental leaks.

Final Thoughts

The SMOK Nord 4 is a versatile and powerful pod system that ticks all the right boxes. Its combination of sleek design, customizable airflow, and strong battery life make it a standout choice for both beginners and seasoned vapers. Whether you’re looking for a portable device for on-the-go vaping or something that offers a bit more flexibility in terms of performance, the Nord 4 is a device that won’t disappoint.

If you're in the market for a new vape, the SMOK Nord 4 is definitely worth checking out. With its blend of style, power, and ease of use, it’s no wonder this device has quickly become a favorite in the vaping community. Try it out for yourself and experience the perfect balance of power and portability.

Vape Here Store Website: https://vape-shop-dubai.net Phone: +97126666150 Address: Al Mamoura, Al Nahyan, Al Faydah St, 10 Niqa Al Houz St, Abu Dhabi, UAE Open hours: 24/7

[transformationofmatter]

iv bin mesing around with SoundSpel môr and hav cum to th concloozhun that it is so much cleerer to ûz th sircumflex to indicât th difthong rather than th 'oe' dîgraf, despît th ofishal recomendâshun, for three reezons:

sum wurds becum longer becauz of th dîgraf, such as *miener or *raeser, becauz th 'e' which indicâts th preevius vowel is long must remân in this câs. this can creât unmanajabl compound wurds and is jeneraly undezîrabl.

many, many other wurds ar wun karracter shorter (than TO) when ûzing th sircumflex, such as *uez, *plaes, and *maet.

th dîgraf is not an acûret representâshun of th spôken vowel, but it also duz not acount for dîalectic vareâshun becauz it implîs mor spesifisity than is reealy thair (a mâjor gôl of SoundSpel is to not be ôverspesific in maping sounds to orthografy). ûzing th sircumflex implîs les about th pronunsyâshun, which in this câs is a guud thing.

this meens th SoundSpel vowels luuk lîk this (in th order: short, difthong, long pûr):

a, â, aa | e, [], ee | i, î, [] | o, ô, oo | u, û, [] | uu (SoundSpel's '*put' vowel)

enywâz, heer is Th Hurmit by Richard Dawson in SoundSpel under th cut. i am reezonably confident in th transcripshun.

———

i'm awâk but i can't yet see;

an eeger chifchaf is herralding me

th imej starts to form of a for-poster bed

sprung in th clarts of a riverbend

and th clavijer nôz

when th beeded shoots go

throo th arrid interstix of mi tôs

amung th mâzd roots of Rô’an as

i pas mi wâst

vâporus shafts of a burjoning sun

skûer th forest-flor onto a wurld fresh begun

all in th Nâm of th Harvest

i.e. our ever-onrushing plasma

shadôz of leevs

motld bi th cleevs

of caterpilar's ardent mandibls

form a basketweev of glôing mud

bloobels in bud

linen smok

and scarlet-embroiderd mantûa

desend from aulderbranches shînd with dû to setl

onto mi body

a litl emerald brooch [or brôch]

unclasps itself from mos

to alît upon mi brest

i step into a sliper-pâr --

exqizit replicas of thôz worn bi

Âda, th Enchantres of Numbers

-

too swolôd cups

of pûrâd bilberrys

which gro in abundans

bi th cornmil rooins:

wun hungers for nuthing

-

now let's folo

theez traks of a Falo Deer

sentenses of clâ leeding awâ from heer

out of the yauning deen

and over a gorsy brow vanishes

her blak hors-shoo rump and taterd tâl

into a gosamer vâl

-

at th hether-tousld crest of

Yeevering Bel we mâ enter a

stôn beecon-tower

from which th î mâ

hôld a hôl sweep of th kingdom:

hâzy marshes, crô-pokt copses,

pachwurk medôs laberintht with hejrôs

jently declîning to a fluf of wuudsmôk

clung to th frinj of th north see

th vilej of Beba

whâr wuns i livd, a

fisher, befor i was forst to flee

-

wun fâr morn, rapt in a shaul of salt-mist

i gatherd in mi pots of Whît-Clawd Crâfish

and from thôz suking sands

did i mâk mi wâ

driping to th kichendor of th Crost Kees

yung Charly Wheetstôn, th inkeeper's lad

with th sâm star-shâpt birthmark as his dad

set sqâr on his chin

bid me a shî 'hâl felo'

and empteed th sqeeking traps

into a pûter trauf

th forlorn broo'er laking ampl coin

apolojîzd with a tôken of grubs on a stik

and sugjested pâment tâk th form

of an upgrâd to mi vizhooal and ontoseptooal cortexes

bak in th thrôs of mi then-hôm --

(a bluberlit châmber, off th clif-crâzing tunels beneeth th fort)

-- i dond Dîojeneez' Rôbs, imbîbd th Côd

and disapeerd into a dreem of Kitiwâks

a hundred billyon voises ekôing around a

dark amfitheeater;

stil ringing in mi eers

as i went, creel in hand

throo th Bog of Nâms

upon entering a blosom grôv

i went into tôtl spasm as a

storm of info brôk abruptly acros my retinas

i câm around to an enhanst persepshun

of every lîf-form within a ten-yard radius

eech throbd with its ôn aurora

-

uterly aud

i'm inadvertently drawn to mi mind's-î

a lôn Ashy Mîner Bee, as if to a plât

under a mîcroscôp

i sobd as i zoomd amung

indivijooal hârs on its fôrlegs and fâs

and stârd for a long tîm into th omatideea

performing a scan

on a cash of Fals Deth Caps

i found i cuud trâs thâr history

all th wâ back to manûfakcher

Slipery Jak, Amethist Deseever,

Fâry Rings, Peny Buns, Hen Of Th Wuud...

i was amâzd

scroling not only th funguses yesturdâs

but also thâr meereead yet-bloomd tomorôs

-

with a burden of redcurants

and wîld garlik at mi elbo i

weerily mâd mi

wâ along Crakpool Burn,

joining th côst rôd at Glorôrum

up ahed i cud see what

luukt to bi a rôbot nelt in th lân

reveeld at a hîer magnificâshun

as a gilt-clad nît of Ôld

submerjd at th wâst in

unnyeelding concreet

flâling his arms to a windmil of gôld

lifting up th puur sôl's vîsor

mi gâz met with a mask of

vân-poping fûry --

or was it abject feer? --

gasping th shivalric ôth

then, it was over --

he split asunder

gleeming armor disolving to reveel

th aprentise of Godwin th

Whîtsmith, a meerest sliver of a man

stoopt to retreev th platinum

from his mouth i

hurd haulted hoovs in th dust, and

th crî 'MURDERER!'

-

tiny côbls out at see

a blak wal of cloud in th eest

and a tâper of rânbo

fântly aglo

amidst thâr wâks

[vapedubai19]

SMOK NOVO 5 POD KIT DUBAI ABU DHABI IN UAE

SMOK NOVO 5 POD KIT DUBAI ABU DHABI IN UAE The SMOK NOVO 5 Pod Kit is made of zinc alloy and has a magnetic connection for strength and convenience. The SMOK NOVO 5 Pod Kit will introduce you to a whole new world of immersive vaping thanks to its adjustable air-inlet ring, optional dual activation modes, informative 0.69-inch OLED display, and Type-C quick charging connector. You may experience…

[andrew-1031]

70 AED - Just bought New Device Smok & OFRF nexMesh pod kit

Just bought New Device Smok & OFRF nexMesh pod kit

At a very cheap and competitive price.

If you also want at cheap price - click https://rebrand.ly/03ghv1p

Here's My honest Review,

---

The packaging has a distinct, slightly textured honeycomb finish which is presumably done to emphasise the mesh coils which are something of a speciality for OFRF. On the back, there’s the usual list of contents and a scratch ‘n’ sniff code on one side. Inside the box, you’re greeted

The pod follows the familiar pod/coil/airflow ring design with the coil/airflow ring assembly simply being press fit in from the bottom. The pod has a 2ml capacity. There’s no indication of the pod material despite all the other branding, but I’d hazard a guess that it’s PCTG so it should be durable

Two coils are available for the nexMESH Pod, a 0.4Ω conical mesh coil for restricted direct lung use, and a 0.4Ω round wire coil for mouth to lung vaping, and one of each is included in the kit

The 0.4Ω mesh coil is rated as being best at 15-20W. It performed ok at 15 watts with the airflow about half open, but performed best at 22 watts with the airflow fully open.

The 0.4Ω DC (round wire) coil is rated between 12-25W and has a narrower bore for a tighter draw, plus there’s the adjustable airflow to tighten it down further if you wish

Pros

Adjustable airflow

Great flavour from coils

Compact pocket-friendly design

Leak free

Cons

Difficult to fill pod

Some might find the branding a little OTT

[vaporbossflavors]

 What Makes Smok Nord Coils A Good Choice? Let’s Find Out Here

The younger generation of today vapes more frequently because they like to try new things. Electric vaporizers are one of them. A more recent trend is using electronics while smoking. A few manufacturers provide a limited number of disposable vape items. In the past, people utilized hookahs with different coil configurations, but that was a little risky. Smok Nord Coils offer 5 coils in a single pack with various possible ohms.

One of SMOK's most recent products, the SMOK Nord is a special pod vape. Instead of using single-use pods, the SMOK Nord uses changeable coils with a variety of coil configurations. There are three coils available as of right now. 

What are the amazing features of Nord Coils? 

The Nord Coils are a fantastic device with simple controls. This has replaceable coils with different ohms instead of utilizing a single-use pod. The Nord Coil from Smok is one of their best-selling items. Smok Nord coils distinguish from the competition. The resistance twist and SMOK pull-out features of the latest pod vape. In this article, we'll cover every detail about Smok Nord Coils.

What distinguishes Smok's Nord Coils structurally from others?

The construction of Nord coils is exceptional. The new coil for the Smok Nord was developed for use with the Smoketch Nord Pod System Set. One o-ring is on the underside of the coils, and two are on top. The rings are utilized for a straightforward plug-and-play method. Strong, delectable, and pleasurable smoke is what Smok Nord coils are designed to produce. The transportable Nord Ultra device is already available.

What traits do Nord Coils possess?

The three different kinds of Smok Nord coils are Mesh, Ceramic, and Standard.

Each helix exhibits a unique range of resistance:

0.06 ohm for the mesh

Standard: -1.4 ohm

Plastic: 1.4 ohm

These coils are designed to be swappable.

Each strip contains 50 milligrams of nicotine salt.

Mesh coils are suggested for twin coil structures with 20W.

0.8-ohm At 16W, mesh Nord-MTL coil operates.

Regular Nord coils are optimized for MTL.

Ceramic coils can withstand high temperatures.

Do you want to learn more about the Wattage Setting for the SMOK Nord Coils?

The Smok Nord Coils have three various wattage levels, making it a great choice for those just starting out. They include low, medium, and maximum levels. A different degree of taste strength and vapour production will be available in each arrangement. If you want to get the most out of your vaping experience, it is suggested that you commence on the maximum level and work your way down. You can be sure that your device will create the most taste and vapour by doing this.

What is the use of Smok Nord coils?

According to vapers, replacing the coil only needs to be done once every one to two weeks and is fast. To complement the e-liquid, some vaporizer users change their coil. Here are some easy steps that you can take to change the coil. Remove the capsule from the device. Remove the rubber stopper from the capsule and throw it away if there is any e-liquid inside. Use Kleenex to scoop the liquid out of the pod.

Try to remove any Nord Coils from the capsule by turning it up and down. Skip this procedure if the container doesn't contain a coil. Utilizing your new coil, apply the juice to the cotton wick material and ladle some juice down the pipe of the coil. Observe the directions provided:

Apply the liquid to the cloth until it is damp.

E-juice must be added because it enhances the flavour of smoking.

In between 4 and 9 minutes, the device will consume the e-liquid.

You can then attach the inductor once that is complete.

Find the hole in the pot, then set the flat sides nearest to the entryway on the flat side of the coil.

It is necessary to force the filament inside.

Now it can be filled.

Wrapping It Up

Every smoking product provides amazing exposure and enjoyment. The best taste is produced by the 0.6-ohm mesh coil, and you can use 50/50 nic salt vape liquid. Given that this object is electrical, use it only after thoroughly reading all instruction manuals and adhering to all safety precautions. Smok is not liable for incorrect or misused battery use. If you don't manage these sensitive gadgets correctly, they could burn you. Smok Nord coils include all required directions with their goods, but how you use them is up to you. Purchase the 1-pack of 5 new coils at the Smok Nord Coils store.

Additionally, they offer free shipping. Smoke Nore coils also offer good value for your money. Take enjoyment and safety in your vaping. 

[surpriseandsmiles]

Vapourz Lounge is a top vape store in London providing the high –quality E-cigarettes, Vaping devices, Vape Kits, refillable vape pods and anarchist vape hardware online at the best price. Whether you are looking for e liquids or vaping devices,Voopoo,Voopoo drag max, Vape shop near me,Smok london, smok rings london you’ll find everything here. Buy these amazing vaping products now and get FREE UK Delivery on Orders Over £ 50! Visit now at Vapourzlounge.co.uk or Call Us: + 44 20 8767 6012!

[thelonekillerwolf]

 the crazy girl

   I stood attention at the queen’s side with hands collapsed behind my back trying to break into a pile of blood and bones. I could feel my bone shattering under the uniform I wore but I couldn’t move or cry out. I was stuck in place until the queen no longer needed me. 

The queen snaps her gaze to mine and I realize my hand was rested on gun. I drop my hand and return my attention back to the wall. There was a raven stetch into the marble and I keep my focus there until the queen snapped at me. 

“Little Smok,” the queen barked. 

“Yes my queen.” I solate. 

    “Give me your weapon,” she whipsered, holding out her hand. 

    I place my gun into her opened palm. Her finger curled around the handle and points it on my face right between my eyes. 

    “You are a total nuisance. I should just killl you.” 

    “You can do as you please, my queen.” I fist a hand to my heart. 

    “Of course I can,” she barks. “I am your queen and if I say die you will throw yourself off a cliff.” 

    My attention flips to the balcony which was the closest thing to a cliff. It hung hundred feet in the air and easily I could throw myself off of it. 

    The queen growled and threw my gun back at me. “No wonder your mother wanted to die.” 

    My mother the one who died in a gas leak. A gas leak I was in too but I didn’t die but she did. She died cursing my life and how awful I am. I was the mad witch now more then ever. My mother didn’t meet the real me. The real me rised up from the ashes the day my family died. 

    Now I am caged in my own mind and in this prison of this castle. I was the queen’s guards and I did as she wanted. 

    “My queen.” My brother burst into throne room then bows before his eyes drifted to mine. “The wolf she is close.” 

    “Send a squad to go find her. I want her found and brought to me.” 

    Pax, my brother, nods and leaves the room. 

    “I want my daughter back,” she whispers, fiddling with a wolf engraved ring she wore on her finger. 

    A hand slipped onto my blade and I come closer to the queen. I pull it out of the scabbard. She doesn’t turn her attention away from the ring as I raise the balde to her throat. Guards crashed into me before it connects to her skin. They wrestled the knife out of my hand and we stumble down the marble steps. They pressed my face against the marble to tie my hands together before dragging me onto my feet. 

I had ruined everything I worked for. I ruined my chance of living longer then anyone else. I was going to rot in these cells just like I’ve see so many before. I was going to die but not beofre I tell a survior what the queen’s weakness was. The queen had a wolf daughter and killing her can save the Lands from the inevitable war.  

[vapeguidance]

How to Fix Issues in Vaping

SMOK  Mod

If you use or thinking about using a SMOK Vape. They're some of the most popular mods and pod vapes on the market right now. But like with any other product, sometimes users can run into problems. That's why we've put together this troubleshooting guide. 

Whether you're experiencing an issue with your SMOK Novo 4, SMOK Nord 4, or any other device, this guide should help you find a solution. it will be helpful for all vapers. So without further ado, here are some of the most common problems people have with SMOK vapes.

SMOK Nord & Novo Hitting issue

Follow these steps for troubleshooting:

First, remove the pod and check the contact points. If the pod is leaking, it can cause the contacts to become wet, which prevents the pod from being recognized. On a SMOK Nord 4, the firing key will light up white when contact is made with a pod, so be sure to check that. Make sure both the bottom of the pod and the contact points on the mod are dry. This should ensure that your device works as intended. If this doesn't work, try a new SMOK Nord coil or SMOK Novo pod.

SMOK Nord & Novo Charging issue

SMOK devices are one of the most popular vaping brands on the market, however, sometimes users can find that their SMOK device won't charge. Most often this isn't an issue with the device itself, it's normally an issue with either the cable or the charging port. The fastest way to diagnose the issue is to test another cable. If that doesn't work, try blowing into the charging port to remove any potential debris or fluff which is getting in the way of the contacts. If you're still experiencing issues, you can try to clean inside the charging port with rubbing alcohol but make sure that it's fully dry before inserting the cable. If you've tried all of these troubleshooting steps and you're still having issues, it's best to contact customer service for further assistance.

New Coils Taste Burnt

Over time, coils will naturally wear down and will need to be replaced. You'll know it's time to replace your coil if the taste of your e-liquid starts to taste burnt. Under normal conditions, a wire in an atomizer can be used for 50ml of e-liquid. So, for example, if you have a 5ml tank, that's around ten refills before you'll need a new coil. Of course, there are always exceptions to the rule and coils may wear down more quickly on occasion. Replacement coils can be found easily online or at Online vape shops. Simply swapping out your coil is a quick and easy process that will help you continue to enjoy your vaping experience.

Vape Juice Leaking From Air Holes

When you fill your tank with vape juice, it's important to make sure that there aren't any leaks before vaping. This way the clouds will be pure bliss instead of frustration!

Most people don’t know this but most mods leak from time to time regardless if they are top-fill locked or bottom-feed unlocked so keep an eye out for anything coming out around vents etc...

How to reduce leaking:

Hold your vape upright 

 If you have a vape pen with an Acetal or polycarbonate body, make sure it’s kept upright when not in use. If on your desk at work and need to take out for some air sometimes - be careful about turning it over because of how thin they are! And close up those holes if put away fully- sealed shut so leaking doesn't happen.

Tighten seals and o-rings 

Leaks can happen for a few reasons, but one of the most common is that seals aren't tight. Make sure you check all four corners and screw hard enough so there's no risk of leaking everywhere.

Increase your wattage 

 If you are getting juice leaking out of your vape pen consistently, it could be because the wattage is too low. Low wattage means that not all of the liquid inside gets vaporized before making its way up through the coils. So, Increase your wattage for best experience.

Conclusion

So, if you’ve tried all the steps above and still can’t get your mod to work, it might be time for a new one. Get a Best vape and Mod Online or from the near you, when you can find the perfect device to meet your needs. Check it out and let us know what you think!

Visit: Telegram

[ihaveavoicex]

be you, bravely. 🐲💚

[ecig-canada-zone-ultimate]

The Smok Nord 50w Replacement LP2 Coils. Each coil in this series uses 3 silicone rings to provide tightness. The LP2 series coils have: LP2 Meshed 0.23ohm DL Coil, every puff is the leading one. When the meshed coil gets in touch with the saturated cotton, delightful taste with smooth flavor and rich vapor arises spontaneously. When inserting the coil into the Smok Nord50w Pod, the added silicone ring on the bottom of the coil would fill the gap. The LP2 series Coil is compatible with Smok Nord 50w Pod Kit. Features: MESHED 0.23OHM DL, 20-45W  DC 0.6OHM, 15-25W Press Fit Coil Installation 5PCS Per Pack Includes: 1x LP2 Coils(5PCS/Pack)

[con-fection]

ASHES TO ASHES | jim moriarty x reader | part 2/13

Word count: 4.7K

"Sherlock," John says, for what is quite possibly the third time in a row. He sighs in frustration, his eyes darting between Sherlock's phone, which is set on the kitchen counter and has been ringing incessantly for the past half hour, effectively disrupting the peace in 221B, and Sherlock himself, who is positioned on his armchair, his elbows on his knees and his hands interlocked in front of his face.

"Not now, John. I'm thinking." Sherlock shakes his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, focusing in on something imperceptible.

"Right, well, I'll get it shall I?" John says, mostly to himself. He rises from the sofa, striding over to the kitchen to grasp the phone. "Hello? Oh, hi Greg. No, no, he's here. He's thinking. Yes, I'll let him know. Yes, thanks. Bye."

John turns around, eyeing Sherlock and waiting for any form of reaction. He doesn't even blink. His spine remains ramrod straight, but the tips of his fingers are twitching slightly, tapping rhythmically against his knuckles. He'd been trapped in a cycle of thinking and tossing away clients since he had last seen Moriarty - it was rather disturbing.

"Sherlock," He tries again. John really is one of the only people that Sherlock depends on, or even tolerates, and he's probably one of the only people that can tell when something has really got to Sherlock. Moriarty is under his skin, he has been in some way for years, starting with the murder of Carl Powers, and culminating with the bombs.  

"Not now, John. I'm - "

"Thinking. Yes, I know that." John snaps slightly, huffing. The frustration is evident in his voice, but he shakes it off quickly, disregarding it in favour of a calmer, more patient tone. "Greg just called - "

Sherlock finally blinks, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. His gaze finally diverts from his interlocked hands to John. "Who?"

"Greg Lestrade, the man who you've worked with for literal years. You have known him longer than you have known me. You have a case." John explains.

Much like any knowledge of the solar system, Lestrade's name is simply deleted from Sherlock's mind, redacted on the basis of it being irrelevant. To John, it seems painfully rude, but to Sherlock, it's an everyday practice - he constantly filters out information that he deems not to be useful enough, disregarding it and then replacing it with something new, something more useful. Something smart, something interesting. And as far as Sherlock is concerned 'Greg' is neither of those things.

"Why didn't you just say so?" Sherlock looks mildly surprised, letting his hands drop and standing up, rising from his armchair. "And I think you mean that we have a case, John."

"Yes, alright, we." John begrudgingly agrees, tossing Sherlock his phone. The taller man catches it with ease, before shrugging his coat on and stuffing it into a pocket.

---

"So, ah, what happened?" Is the first thing that tumbles from John's mouth as he and Sherlock enter Lestrade's office at the police station. The door swings shut behind them, but he can still sense Donovan's burning stare at his back, piercing through the door.

Lestrade is sat at his desk, a collection of pictures strewn around him, haloed by sunlight spilling in from the window behind him. Some of the pictures have been pinned to a corkboard on the wall, connected to each other by thumbtacks and neon-coloured string. He looks rather thankful for Sherlock's presence, his shoulders sagging instantly in relief.

"Right, well, murder and arson." Lestrade says, turning one of the pictures around. Sherlock and John quickly crowd around it, both vying to see the charred skeleton of a house.

"That doesn't look much like London." John says, squinting slightly.

"Well, it's not really London London, you know? It's only London technically." Lestrade supplies, shrugging slightly.

John nods. "So, it's in your jurisdiction, but barely. And, ah, when exactly did this all happen? Do you have like an estimated time of death?"

"This morning." Lestrade says. "The fire started pretty early - we can be relatively certain that the victims were killed in the night or this morning. Our killer was pretty quick about it. We're not sure if anything's missing yet."

"Strange fire pattern," Sherlock remarks, his eyes flitting over all of the pictures. "I assume our perpetrator used an accelerant - most likely gasoline, which they would have poured throughout the house judging by the consistency of the burning. I'm guessing that the fire began in the basement?"

Lestrade nods. "It's probably the worst room in the whole house. They didn't bother as much with the victims."

"So the basement's more important, then?" John guesses.

"Or the most convenient room to start the fire in," Lestrade says. "Right, these are our victims." He rises from behind his desk and strides over to the board, pointing to three pictures depicting three women. The first is probably in her mid-thirties, and she's wearing this slinky black dress with matching silk gloves. Her pale blonde hair is arranged in waves, and she's smiling to display perfectly white teeth.

"That's Verona Archer, and those are her two daughters Aubrey and Alora."

"Twins?"

"Yes, both of them are nineteen, on their gap year. A shame really, from what I can tell they were all very well liked." Lestrade confirms.

John nods slowly, his eyes travelling over to Verona's daughters. They're identical - the pictures are different, one depicts a young blonde girl wearing a sparkly pink dress, and the other depicts a blonde girl that is her mirror image in every way riding a white pony and waving to the camera. "And their father?"

"Ah, their dad died when they were three, of kidney failure. Verona remarried - he died nine years ago, in a car crash. Poor woman, losing both of her husbands." Lestrade answers. "Here's what the Archer family look like now." He grabs another three pictures off his desk and pins them underneath the pictures of the women whilst they were alive.

They're almost impossible to distinguish in death. Their bodies have been charred, their skin turning shrivelled, red and twisted. There's blotchy patches of red and white travelling down their arms, culminating in blackened fingertips that have crumpled to reveal bone. A few strands of their blonde hair has survived, but it's marred with thick blood and ash.

Their bedrooms, too, have been completely burnt. There's dark black smudges running up the walls, smoke stains pooling on the ceilings and floors, their belongings burnt, singed or reduced to piles of ash.

Their faces have been mostly obliterated in the fire, the bedsheets around them singed. There's a matching neck wound on each of them, one that's hard to see as a result of how badly their bodies were burnt. The remaining flesh on their neck has bubbled up into blisters and stuck to the sheets, almost melting off the bone. There's a glint of pale cartilage visible, poking out from between pieces of mangled, burnt skin.

"Their necks were hacked open," Sherlock observes. "There's no hesitation marks, from what I can tell. This wasn't some robbery gone wrong - they were sleeping. They wouldn't have even seen their attacker coming. This looks like a meat cleaver - I'd wager that you could find the murder weapon in their own kitchen. That alone should imply that this was unplanned, and yet, it seems to thoughtfully executed. Delightful."

John blinks rapidly. "I'm sorry, Sherlock, did you just say - you know what, never mind."

"He really hated them - he resented the Archer family more than anything. Do we know if any of the women had recently rejected a man? Broken off a relationship, perhaps?" Sherlock asks.

Lestrade shakes his head. "Not that I'm aware of, but I've got people looking into that avenue - forensics is going through the girls' phones right now."

"He?" John repeats, confusedly.

"About ninety percent of arsonists are male. Most of them are also white and have a low IQ, typically ranging between seventy and eighty. They're almost always either under eighteen, or in their late twenties." Sherlock says. "We can narrow down our search once we get to the scene."

John sighs, exchanging a long-suffering glance with Lestrade. "Sherlock, I hate to break it to you, but there's not much left to see."

"Not for you, but there will be for me." Sherlock says, glancing at John.

"But we're looking for a man, yes?" Lestrade asks.

Sherlock narrows his eyes, his gaze flitting between all of the pictures. "Most likely, yes. But we can't rule out a female suspect yet. It's always possible that it's a scorned female lover rather than a male one, or perhaps she could be acting out of jealousy, if those Archer girls were so well liked."

"Erm, will we even be allowed in the crime scene?" John enquires. "I mean, I imagine it would be quite dangerous, with the house literally crumbling, and all."

Sherlock scoffs, "You're more than welcome to stand outside and watch, John."

---

Central London isn't quite what you expect it to be. The bus ride is a nightmare - the incessant chatter of the other passengers around you sets you on edge. Their conversation is all so mundane, so pitifully boring that it makes you feel almost resentful.

These are people who have always had their freedom - who haven't had to kill and burn their way out of a gilded cage. And they use it to discuss things as asinine as the weather. You long for the depth that you had always been denied, the warmth, the love, the meaning.

It's so strange, that you can sit among them, an outsider - a dark Cinderella - in the midst of rodents that have yet to turn to carriagemen.

You're glad when you get off, and you can escape their dull conversations. Though, the streets are much louder. There's not any pretty, delicate fragments of birdsong to be heard here. There's the occasional squawk of some hungry pigeons vying for food, but no birdsong. The air is rife with pollution - contaminated, tainted by smoke. It's all cigarette smoke or the chemical-smelling kind that billows up from factory chimneys in plumes of white and grey smoke.

It's nothing like the kind you had smelled only earlier today - it's not the corpses of your step-family being reduced to charred remains. That was far more pungent, far sweeter, if only in the way it made you feel.

There's a constant urge to look over your shoulder. You still feel intensely victorious, and full of a pride that burns just as brightly as your house had done mere hours ago. Yet, amongst those addictive, elated kind of feelings, is a sliver of paranoia.

You don't want to get caught, not now. All pictures of you, all evidence even of your existence, had been destroyed first. It had to go, you had to be free to start afresh, to reinvent yourself as the princess rather than as the maid.

Cleaning the house constantly had been so useful. It had taught you a lot about cleaning up after yourself, about making sure that there would be no evidence you were even there. All those surfaces had shined brightly, but so had the knife when you lodged it into their throats.

The streets in London aren't as nice as you had thought they would be. In every alleyway lingers a different shifty person, eyeing passersby carefully, likely determining who they would try to pickpocket next.

There's so much noise, too.

There's the drunken ramblings of men who are going through a midlife crisis and day drinking. They stumble through the streets, seemingly having gravitated towards one another, forming packs of aimless, rowdy men who just want to escape from their lives and live something that's more interesting.

Then, there's the noises of the cars. There's so many cabs, all identical in their sleek, black appearance, hurrying through the streets. And then there's the people hailing them, standing in the streets and raising their hands, calling out loudly.

"Taxi!" Yet another man yells, and you flinch instinctively, automatically turning around to look at him. He's nothing special, nothing dangerous.

In fact, you're probably the most dangerous person on this street. And yet, you remain hypervigilant. There's only the remnants of all that adrenaline in your system, but still, you remain awfully flighty. You are more than aware that soon it's going to wear off and you're going to be absolutely exhausted.

If you were any normal, entirely sane person, by now you would have been concerned at the lack of guilt.

But it wasn't like these deaths were accidental, or spur of the moment attacks. They weren't self-defense.

They were retribution.

They were violent acts of revenge designed over years and years. It was premeditated in every sense of the word. The only thing that could really, truly bring you warmth on those cold nights in the basement wasn't those scratchy blankets. It was the thought that one day you would take them out of this world, and that they would burn for everything they had done to you.

Over the years, the plan itself had taken a great many differing directions. You had planned versions where you would burn them alive, torture them for days on end, or even use something as simple as a poison to achieve your aims - that would have been remarkably easy considering that you did all the cooking. But ultimately, those fantasies had to be short-lived. They fell victim to practicality. Poison wasn't readily available, and the longer your step-family lived, the more likely they would be to escape or attract the attention of any neighbours.

It was your own version of Cinderella. And although you hadn't much planned for after the murders, you knew that if she got to rule a kingdom, then you would, too.

But first, you wanted to find a hotel room. One with nice blankets and decent heating and light walls that didn't remind you whatsoever of that basement. You'd been trawling for a while, ever conscious of the amount of cash you had, and the fact that eventually, you would have to gain some form of employment and find a more permanent housing situation.

The third hotel that you look at is the one you decide is just right. The first had been far too expensive, and the second one had looked like it shouldn't even be in business with how dilapidated it was. It's pretty enough, a grand white towering structure with flowers in all the windows and delicate borders around the windows. The price, which would be steep elsewhere, is decent for London.

You push the door open - it's a glass door with cursive, swirly golden writing emblazoned across it, and a little overhead bell jingles. The lady at the desk's head immediately turns your way, and she gives you a bright smile.

The entrance is spacious, but sparsely furnished, a few simple chairs and tables scattered around, but nobody's using them. Security seems relatively lax here, you can't see any cameras yet, and despite the hotel seeming acceptable to you, it's probably not one of the most popular establishments in London.

You approach the lady at the desk - your eyes immediately darting to her nametag. Emily.

"Hello, how can I help?" She asks, smiling. Her voice is dripping with that faux-sweetness that is innate to anybody working in customer service. It's cheery, and terribly fake - but you can't really bring yourself to feel any contempt for her lack of genuity. For her it's protection, and just a part of her job. It's not malicious.

"I'd like to book a room, please." You reply.

"Sure," She says, her fingers darting to the computer keyboard. "Do you know how long you'll be staying with us for?"

"A week, I think." You decide that it should be enough time for you to get everything together.

The top priorities for you now were evading the police and finding yourself some new documentation so that you could work, and move on with your life.

Emily nods, her finger tapping away and clicking for a few, silent moments. "We have you booked in room 125." She briefly ducks below the countertop, emerging with a keycard in hand.

It's blue, with a curvy lime green stripe swerving up through it. It's not the most impressive graphic design you've ever seen, and it doesn't really match the rest of the hotel, but it's good enough. You take it from her with a smile. "Thank you."

"Enjoy your stay!" She calls out after you, just as you've started to head further into the hotel.

You don't bother to acknowledge her comment. You simply keep walking, wandering around the bottom floor of the hotel lobby. There are these tiny, light-up signs plastered everywhere, giving the guests directions. It doesn't take you long to reach your room once you start following them.

Room one hundred and twenty five is incredibly boring.

The entrance-way is frustratingly narrow, with a cramped bathroom on your left, and a wardrobe on your right. It opens up to a relatively small space - a double bed against the left wall, a TV mounted just opposite it, a desk and some windows with terrible, thin curtains that do nothing to obscure the light.

It's so terribly basic, and the whole place smells like cleaning supplies - that alone makes you recoil. It brings you back to scrubbing each and every surface again and again. It makes your fingers twitch with the urge to just tear it all apart - to pull the curtains from their rails, knock the sparse furniture over and destroy it.

It feels so fake. It's all orchestrated to look appealing - but to you it appears bland and disingenuous.

The smell of bleach permeating from the bathroom makes you flinch. It's so sterile. There's no life in this place. There's nothing real here.

You have to constantly tell yourself over and over again that this is temporary. For a fleeting moment, you feel some kind of pain, a sharp pang of longing for your home - it had been a prison in every sense of the word once both of you parents were gone, but still it was familiar, the safe haven of your childhood where your mother would read you bedtime stories.

In your story, Cinderella would get her palace. Your happily ever after wouldn't be marred by the fact that a few people had died at your hands.

This hotel room is temporary - something to be used briefly and once you've moved on, never to be dwelled upon again. For now, you just have to lay low, and establish your new life here. The hotel room, with it's bland white and beige decor is hardly the fruition of all your planning. It's just another stepping stone.

It's only saving grace is the mattress and the heating. You're all too happy to kick your shoes off and lay face-down on the bed, letting all of the tension in your body go. The sheets, for all that they smell like cheap detergent, are petal-soft beneath your fingers. They're nothing like the ones in that cold, awful basement.

---

It doesn't take long for Sherlock to become a man obsessed.

They had first visited the residence of the victims - the scene of the crime. The Archer home had been destroyed, completely reduced to rubble and ash - even Verona Archer's car had been caught in the blaze, though the damage to the car was inconsequential next to the damage to the house and the lives lost within it.

What had once been a grand, elegantly decorated four-bedroom house was now barely standing. It's roof had caved in, and there were slate tiles strewn throughout the top floor and around the garden. Some beams of wood had been exposed, and many of the bricks had simply tumbled over, left with dark scorch marks over them.

It had been necessary to wear hazard gear within the house, and there was still one fire-engine waiting on the street, just in case the house were to be set aflame again. That was a common procedure, at the very least. A few neighbours would come out every once in a while, looking at the burnt remains of the Archer house in awe and horror.

There wasn't a whole lot actually left of the house.

Sherlock had torn his way down to the basement first, and quickly discerned what most of the items were - bookshelves, and lots of family photographs that didn't survive the blaze. But, most of the items in the basement were really irrelevant. It was the pile of scorched blankets that drew his attention.

"This is where the fire started, then, is it?" John asks, peering down at the blankets - they've melted together in some places, fusing to one another under the extreme heat. The entire house smells awful - the sickly scent of burnt human flesh mixed with gasoline - but the blankets smell awful, too. They were probably, back before they had been reduced mostly to ash, some sort of plasticy-material.

"Of course it is." Sherlock says, flitting around the basement and moving to inspect every little thing. "The Archers weren't the only ones living in the house. They were allowing someone to live in their basement."

"I thought they had four bedrooms?"

Sherlock shakes his head slightly. "Mm, no. One was Verona's closet. They had left their guest to sleep in the basement. The blankets are mostly polyester - they're well-used but they don't match anything upstairs. I think our guest has been down here for quite some time. The basement was a mess before the fire. Ms. Archer keeps things down here that she doesn't particularly like, but can't bring herself to throw away, just in case they become useful later."

"Wait, are you saying that the Archer girls - who, may I remind you, the mother being a grieving widow twice over, and her teenaged daughters - had been keeping somebody in their basement?" John asks, incredulously. He looks up from the pile of blankets and to Sherlock, in utter disbelief.

Sherlock scoffs. "Yes, John. That's exactly what I'm saying. Their guest was probably closely related to them. It's even possible that Verona had a third child. I'm almost certain now that our arsonist is a woman."

"A woman?" John frowns, "I thought you said most arsonists were men?"

"They are. They also tend to have a low intelligence - but she is neither a man, nor is she stupid. No, she's smart. She's smart and she's hurting right now. They're not going to find any evidence. She won't have left any. She's wanted this for a very, very long time." Sherlock whispers. "The rest of the house will be useless - the stairs are liable to give in if we try them. The basement was the only part she cared about. The burning was about obscuring her identity, not her crimes."

Naturally, the next place they turn to is the morgue.

All three bodies are already lain out on metal slabs when Sherlock and John enter, the latter wrinkling his nose. The house had, of course, smelled worse. But the actual scent of a charred corpse right in front of him was still incredibly sickening.

Molly greets them both with a smile, "Hi, Sherlock, - "

Sherlock brushes past her, his hands clasped behind his back. He circles around the bodies, his eyes darting over their wounds, their burnt, blistered skin, and the protruding bones.

The pictures had made Verona, Aubrey and Alora seem to be in even better condition than they were.

Their flesh had sunk, plastering itself to the bone in flaky pieces. They were more a mass of bloody body parts, sullen skin and ash than a real human body. There were a few persistent strands of platinum hair that had survived both the fire and the murder, clinging to their burnt scalps.

"That - oh, my god, the smell," John says between coughs, bringing a pale hand up to clasp it over the bottom half of his face. It was more a gesture of self-soothing than any actual attempt to block out the pungent fumes, but he does step back and momentarily avert his eyes.

Molly winces slightly, her cheery visage disturbed only slightly. "Yeah, I've tried pretty much everything. There's not much you can do for them. Ah, they died in their sleep, at least, so..."

"From the uh," John gestures to his throat, drawing a line across his neck horizontally with his pointer finger.

By far, the most disturbing part of the burnt cadavers is their necks. There's a grand, gaping hole in the charred flesh. It pulls away from itself, ribbons of burnt skin dangling into the throat cavity, and tiny pieces of ripped, hacked skin flaring upwards, soaked in crimson blood. They've been almost decapitated - their heads only very tenuously linked to their shoulders via the back of their necks.

It's much worse in real life - the crime scene photographs hadn't quite captured the depth of the cut.

"Yeah," Molly confirms with a grimace.

"No hesitation marks," Sherlock whispers. "Just as I thought. The twins were killed first. Aubrey, then Alora not soon after. Verona was saved for last - she was the culmination of all of this, the main target, if you will. Our perpetrator hated the twins, yes, but she hated Verona much more. You won't find any gasoline on their bodies. She put the gasoline on the floor, but not her victims. She wanted to obscure her identity but avoid damaging her work as much as possible."

"Okay, but we still don't know who the culprit is, or better yet, where they are." John says.

Sherlock shakes his head. "No, we know lots of things about her. Petite, early twenties. She hates the smell of disinfectant and she hates the cold even more. We can make the assumption that she may not even be Verona's daughter at all - perhaps one of those husbands had an affair, or more likely, a previous marriage that produced Verona's step-daughter."

"So, once again, the Archer girls were keeping a... step-daughter in their basement? And she killed them?" He questions.

"Oh, yes, she absolutely did." Sherlock grins. He sounds terribly fascinated, almost breathless - it's a kind of intrigue that John has only ever seen Moriarty produce in him. It's the kind of intrigue that never ends well. The kind that leaves Sherlock invigorated as he tries to unwrap every tiny mystery, whilst John is probably in some sort of danger.

"Right..." John's voice trails off, dying slowly as he watches Sherlock's eyes light up.

The consulting detective paces around the room, stalking around the bodies, grinning and muttering softly to himself. Moriarty's game is still afoot, but whilst they're waiting for his next move, Sherlock is going to indulge himself with another clever little side quest.

"She was smart. You're probably not going to find her - I mean I can tell she's probably gone to a major city, most likely London, given the proximity and her lack of resources. But, there's not going to be anything about her that's distinguishable from any other girl living in London." Sherlock announces.

"So that's it then. Case closed?" Molly asks, confusion colouring her tone as she folds her arms over her chest.

Sherlock pauses in his stride, and narrows his eyes, going so far as to look mildly affronted. "No, of course not. We're going to find her."

"Of course we are." John groans. "Was it not enough to just identify the unstable murder-arsonist lady?"

"No, John. Don't be silly." Sherlock scoffs. "We're going to find out everything we can about our Cinderella."

John frowns, looking to Molly who still looks equally puzzled. "Cinderella?"

"What else would you call a step-daughter mistreated by her step-mother and step-sisters?"

"I don't think that Cinderella killed her step-family and burnt their house down." John points out, sighing. "She's meant to go to a ball, meet a prince, not try to decapitate her family."

Sherlock dismisses John easily, "Perhaps not in the original version, no. But in this one? Absolutely."