a running flame

Just a little lower Marco.

But seriously, this scene i majorly symbolic of the implied relationship of these two. It is their breakup, Marco passed and now they have to part, and because of who and what Hekapoo is and what the flame was, there is no way to rekindle it. It’s time for his clock to turn back and hers to move forward. This is somber and sad if you think about it as the end of what seems like a very touching relationship, the parting of lovers or friends. Old friends.

I cannot wait until she returns.

does anyone else see josh on the street as a parallel to the heathens vid?

tyler sees josh, who is busy drumming and doesn’t even seem to notice him. he just continues drumming as light flares up around him - meanwhile tyler’s motif is dark, shade, and black colors

and when he runs into josh the flames begin to get brighter and the scene wilder and as tyler breaks out of the car everything is liberating - just like in the prison when he gets his yellow suit on 

and does anyone notice when everything goes back to normal, and tyler looks disenchanted again, josh isnt there - and maybe that’s because in both videos, tyler imagined josh as a coping mechanism and a manifestation of liberation from his mind,


as of late there have been numerous questions asking about how to tell if the shit is good , or even real, and how to test it.

First things first, if you have to ask yourself , is this shit anygood after doing some , then it aint .

after a couple of hits out of the glass pipe , you should feel very good and energized, and not having the desire to refill the pipe, good shit will get you busy doing something other than smoking up your sack.

a little good meth goes a long way

if you do some , and you feel more tired than before , then it aint real.

Bleach Test: pour liquid bleach into a glass , a couple of ounces is all you need, drop a small amount of your product into the glass with the bleach in it.

and watch what happens, if its real , the speed will start dancing around, it will dart around for a few seconds, and after a few minutes or less , small oily spots will form on top of the bleach !!! 

if it sinks to the bottom without dart around first, guess what? it aint real.

The smoke test: when blowing out a hit, the smoke should come straight out of your mouth and clouds that are long streams, like a rainbow .

If the smoke exhaled , come out and stays close to you and goes sideways and in circles to the left and right , it is not a good sign.

The nasal test: Real meth will burn your nose when snorted, so much that tears could form in your eyes, some call it the donkey kick, it feels that bad.
which is good!!

no burn or very little burn is a bad sign.

The magnification test: Look at your product under some magnification, it should all look the same as far as color and texture , the shards should be rigid, un-even , rough edges.
the color should be pretty clear or transparent , mostly but not 100% 

Cloudy rocks are another bad sign.

If the edges are smooth and straight kinda uniformed shape , bad sign!!

Meth should not look wet, if it looks wet or kinda oily and easy to break apart, Bad Sign.

The pipe test: if your pookie ( glass pipe ) turns dark inside the bubble after smoking some , Bad

if it just burns away quickly , no good!!!

real meth will re crystalize , quickly and clear or at least white, and it should start forming a pattern of lines, like spokes on a bicycle.

if brown spots form instead of lines, guess what , yep bad.

Real meth will smoke easy, and you cant really fuck it up , on the other hand fake shit will run away from the flame and will be hard to smoke , bad shit will run up the side and wont stay on the bottom of the bubble.

real stuff will stay in one spot .

I hope this helps, a lot of bullshit is being sold as meth, do not fall into this trap, buying it is worse than throwing your money away, it far worse because the effects of smoking fake dope are horrible, it causes depression, fatigue, a feeling of worthlessness, and then you are in a bad funk, worse than you felt prior , becarefull and dont be affraid to tell your conection NO!

thats the only way to keep dealers straight, because time and time again , they will sell you good shit at first, then as you become a loyal customer they will start giving you adulterated shit, and if you dont speak up and complain, they know you dont know good from bad and the shit will always be fucked up from then on.

if you speak up and stop buying their crap, they will come out with the real stuff , I have beenthere

stop running.

Originally posted by blastberuffled

pairing: klaus mikaelson x reader

warnings: swearing + drinking.

prompt: running into an old flame while visiting mystic falls.

A/N: i’ve had no internet for two weeks and all i wrote in that time was this really lame klaus fluff. (i’m really into him right now, oh god.) send me requests!

your heels crunched against the gravel as you walked, not really knowing where to go but knowing exactly what you wanted - to get black out drunk and forget today even happened. it was bad enough that you were back in mystic falls, a town you’d sworn to stay away from but the run in with damon salvatore was enough to make you bitter.

you understood the fascination with the older brother, you couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive, insanely attractive really but as soon as the man opened his mouth to say quite literally anything, you wanted to eat a bullet. he was cocky and arrogant, two traits you simply couldn’t find attractive in a man that didn’t have that much to offer in the first place. you didn’t even want to mention the pathetic obsession he had with the doppelganger - really, it was all enough to make you barf.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

i bought from my regular my ice dealer and he gave me a bag with powder and a little rock and it's not a shard. did i just get ripped off?

Not necessarily! Crystal comes in both powder and shard form. If you get a bag that is mostly (or all) powder, that is considered to be the “bottom of the bag stuff”, meaning it is what’s left over after all of the shards have been sold. I have received bags of 100% powder before and the high was amazing. I was flying all night. Although I’ve always had a very reliable, consist connect who I know wouldn’t rip me off.

But don’t take my word for it. A bag of pure powder could also mean it’s been cut, and who knows what it could be cut with. Powdered crystal, or the “bottom of the bag stuff”, is extremely easy to throw filler into to make more money off the last of the product. The best way to know if it’s good or not is to test it out for yourself. I made a post a little while back which I had placed on my Harm Reduction page but I seemed to have lost the link, so I’ll repost it below. 

Good Meth vs. Bad Meth

Bleach Test

Good. Pour liquid bleach into a glass; a couple ounces is all you need. Drop a small amount of your product into the glass with the bleach in it and watch what happens. If it is real, the crystal will start moving around, dart ing around for a few seconds and after a few minutes (or less,) small spots of oil will form on top of the bleach. 

Bad. If it immediately sinks to the bottom without darting around, guess what? It aint real.

Smoke Test

Good. When blowing out a hit, the smoke should come straight out of your mouth. Clouds appear to look like a rainbow in long streams. 

Bad. If the smoke comes out and stays close to you and goes sideways or goes both directions in circles after being exhaled, that is not a good sign.SS

The Nasal Test 

Good. Real crystal will burn your nose when snorted. It burns so much, and so badly, that tears could form in your eyes. Some call it the “donkey kick” because it feels that bad. But that’s good because it means it’s real. 

Bad. No burn or very little burn.

The Magnification Test 

Good. Take a look at your product under some magnification. It should all look the same and even throughout as far as color and texture. The shards should be rigid and uneven with rough edges. The color should be pretty clear or transparent, mostly but not 100%.

Bad. Cloudy rocks are a bad sign. If the edges are smooth and straight and more of a uniformed shape, immediate bad sign. Meth should not look wet. If it does look wet or a bit oily and is easy to break apart, bad sign.

The Pipe Test

Good. Real crystal will recrystallize quickly and will appear to be clear or at least white. It should start forming a pattern of lines, like spokes on a bicycle. It will smoke easy and you cant really fuck it up. Real stuff will stay in one spot when smoked

Bad. If your glass pipe turns dark inside the pipe after taking just one hit, that’s a bad sign. Fake shit will run away from the flame and it will be hard to smoke. Bad shit will run up the side and won’t stay in the bottom of the pipe. If it burns away really quick, that’s also not a good sign. And lastly, if brown spots appear instead of lines, that’s a dead giveaway that it’s bunk shit.

All of the info above was found here

Fanfiction - Fairplay (College AU)


“And the teams are out on the field, looking decided - and pretty scary if you ask me! Jamie “King of Men” Fraser leading Oxford and Tom Christie commanding the Edinburgh fellows!” The speaker roared, as the stands applauded and cheered, a jungle of whistles and shouts of incentive. “You can tell the rivalry is strong in this one - the winning team today will definitely be the front runner heading to the Championships next month!”

“Jamie looks focused.” Ian commented next to Claire, clapping as the Oxford team players were announced by the speaker. “And Christie looks like gloom and doom – I bet he isna up to anything good.”

“I’m sure our team will handle it.” Claire replied, adjusting her sunglasses – the sun was out that morning, apparently eager to pay testimony to a much anticipated rugby game. As Jamie’s name was called and he briefly waved at the crowd, screams and chanting enhanced tenfold, as if the volume switch had been turned to maximum. “Is that the new player?” She asked curious, noticing the young man sitting on the bench, his blonde hair glowing like a marigold in the sunlight.

“Aye.” Ian smiled. “John Grey was the one drafted – too bad there wasna enough time for him to become better acquainted with the team. Our current scrum half is rubbish and John seems to be a great player.”

“What a shame!” Claire agreed. Jamie and Tom approached the centre of the field to shake hands, a duel of crushing grips, their eyes locking with unspoken promises of a ruthless game.

The Edinburgh team kicked off with brutal intensity, taking the lead with an early drop goal. Tom Christie was indeed a good player, Claire had to recognize – he seemed to make the rest of his colleagues better just by interacting with them, pushing them to their limits – a lot like Jamie did.

“It seems like Fraser was just warming up!” The speaker pointed with excitement in his voice. “He is leading the team to a try – the Edinburgh boys will need to catch a ride with a motorcycle to be able to get to him!” And soon enough Jamie grounded the ball over the opponent’s goal line, awakening huge clamours from the cheering crowd.

The next few minutes were hectic, with both teams achieving scoring points – they were fairly equated, both having some weaknesses and a couple of extraordinary players. The game became rougher, with a couple of ugly tackles taking place, the nastier one inflicted by Christie on Jamie. Claire’s heart tightened when she saw him projected in the air – echoes of the game with Northumbria and his head injury racing through her mind – but he promptly got up and raised a thumb to ease the mind of the howling crowd. They reached the halftime with Edinburgh on the lead, having been awarded a penalty point after an infringement from Oxford’s scrum half.

“I canna believe we might lose this!” Ian clenched his teeth, looking thoroughly annoyed. “I canna stand the idea of Tom Christie prancing about our campus, gloating after their victory!”

“It’s not over yet.” She said in a cheerful tone, looking as Jamie talked and gesticulated with the coach. He seemed irritated with something and kept throwing evaluating looks at their scrum half and then at John Grey. “I think we might be in for a surprise.”

When the halftime was over, the substitution was made – clearly a joint decision from Jamie and the coach - and John Grey entered the field for the first time wearing Oxford’s colours, looking pale but decided.

As soon as they made the formation, Grey threw the ball into it and moved as lightening to the hindmost foot of the scrum, neatly picking up the ball and passing it - like a guided missile - to the hands of Oxford’s fly half, the captain himself, Jamie Fraser. With the proceeding game, it became quite clear that Grey was not only an outstanding player – with a knack for impossible passes and agile as a gazelle in avoiding Christie’s tackles -, but also that he and Jamie were meant to play together. They seemed to predict each other’s moves with easiness and stormed the field like dancers in a physical duet, battering the Edinburgh team’s lines and inspiring the rest of Oxford’s players. A short stretch of time was enough for them to recover from the disadvantage at the score board, sealed with a mind-blowing drop goal that made the fans go crazy.

Chanting propagated like a tribal calling in the stands, encouraging both Jamie and John, which by then had already earned the right of a nom de guerre – John “The Lord” Grey.

When the referee blew the whistle to signal the end of the game, a joyful wave of blue crashed on the grass, as Oxford’s players ran and jumped on top of Jamie and John – the solid foundation of a victorious human pyramid. Claire looked around, grinning as Ian fist bumped the air – her heart overflowing with pride, noticing the gigantic smiles all around her. Jamie was hugging an incredulous John, complimenting him on his achievements – the promise of a legendary friendship being born on a cloudless day.


“You’re late.” Claire announced, as Jamie arrived half running, his hair flaming on the light of dusk - as if the sun was setting inside him.

“I’m sorry, mo nighean donn.” He kissed her forehead in apology, as she pursued her lips and began the task of fixing the collar of his shirt. “I went for a run with John and lost track of time discussing some tactics.”

“That’s alright.” She sighed, bumping his nose. “Ian called to say he’ll be meeting us there. Is John coming too?”

“Aye.” Jamie caught her hand and entwined their fingers, as they began to walk together. It was the college’s anniversary – a big milestone, even for such an ancient institution – and a fancy party was taking place in the Main Hall, where lots of prominent students and alumnae would be gathered to celebrate. “He went to his dorm to shower and will meet us there.”

“You quite like him, don’t you?” Claire asked, caressing the back of his hand with her thumb. “You two became quite close in this last month – always training together and talking.”

“John is a kind, good-hearted, man.” Jamie agreed. “Talking to him always seems easy and uncomplicated – a lot like talking to you, actually.” He smiled, the corner of his mouth twitching. “And we’re much stronger as a team since he came on board. We might actually have a chance at the Championships.”

“Should I be jealous?” She elbowed him, playfully, in a mock pretence of grievance. “You have been spending more time with him than me, that’s for sure.”

“John Grey might be an interesting lad and a good friend.” He let go of her hand and held her by the waist, the tip of his fingers brushing the curve of her buttock, hidden under the emerald green fabric of her cocktail dress. “But he doesna have an arse like yers, Sassenach. You will always be number one in my book, especially when ye wear such a nice dress – A Dhia, I can feel ye underneath it. Do we really have to go anywhere at all?”

“Always making me feel special.” Claire replied dramatically, offering him a light peck on the lips – careful not to smudge her discrete lipstick – and then a possessive squeeze of his own hardened and well-shaped derrière. “Enough time for me to wear your shirt later.”

The vast room was already filled with people, wearing unusually elegant garments – girls with dresses of vivid colours, forming a spontaneous bouquet against the blooming light of chandeliers and sparkling glasses – luring men in their suits with promises of hidden secrets. Jazz music played in the background, setting the rhythm to conversations and filling the gaps of silence in some awkward exchanges.

Claire and Jamie smiled to a couple of acquaintances and waved to some colleagues, as they made their way into the heart of the party. They were standing close together, talking about Claire’s classes, when a male voice imposed over their conversation.

“Claire?” Frank Randall smiled at her, his brows furrowing when he glanced at Jamie from the corner of his eye. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hello, Frank.” She greeted him, turning around. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“Fraser.” Frank acknowledge Jamie with a small nod of his head, his thin lips forming a weak attempt at a pleasant smile. “Congratulations on that fantastic game with Edinburgh last month. Very well played.”

“Thank ye, Professor Randall.” Jamie gave him a relaxed smile and turned to Claire. “Mo nighean donn, I think I’ll go and say hello to Ian and John. I’ll see ye in a bit.” He kissed her cheek and squeezed her fingers in goodbye, offering her strength – reassuring her of his trust and love – and walked away, towering over the crowd.

“I was wondering…” Frank hawked, his fingers fidgeting with the glass of champagne he was holding. “If we could talk.”

“We are already talking, I daresay.” Claire pointed, accepting a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, offered by a passing waiter. “What is it, Frank?”

“Ah – yes.” He licked his lips, quickly looking around them, scanning for anyone within earshot. ““It has become my understanding that you and James Fraser are dating.” He said in a hurry, as if he was running away from his own words. “Is it serious?”

“I don’t see how that would be any of your business.” Claire replied in a dry tone, raising a brow. “We haven’t been together in a long time, Frank. But yes - everybody knows Jamie is my – very serious - boyfriend. It’s not exactly a secret.”

“I see.” He swallowed hard, avoiding her piercing amber eyes, and glancing at her silver ring. “I thought maybe it was a fleeting dalliance. I believed you fancied someone more refined – more polished.”

“Is that what you are?” Claire asked gently, anger and resentment completely absent from her words. “Because I was under the impression things didn’t work out between us – and not by any fault of mine, Frank. If only you had been happy sleeping with one student at a time, perhaps we would be together until this day.”

“I deserve that.” Frank pinched his nose with his skinny fingers. “I was terribly foolish to hurt you, Claire. You are, by far, the most singular woman I ever met.”

“I’m happy you did.” She said softly, looking intently at him. “I only met Jamie because of it – and everything that led me to him has my deepest gratitude.”

“I was under the impression you still had some…feelings for me.” He whispered in a strained voice. “You are always so charming and pleasant every time we meet and have a conversation.”

“I’m over you, Frank.” Claire affirmed, trying to infuse some kindness into the situation, but getting increasingly more uncomfortable. “That’s why I’m nice when we talk. I don’t have any repressed feelings – no secret expectations of you wanting me back. You were important to me, once – I offer you the respect that position deserves. Nothing less – nothing more.”

“I have seen how you look at him. The pride and joy in your eyes.” Frank bit his words. “Did you ever love me?”

“I did.” She whispered, softly. “But not like that – not how I love him.”

“He knows about us, doesn’t he?” He brushed his short dark hair. “And yet he left you with me. Maybe he doesn’t care all that much.”

“What we have has no room for mistrust or lies.” She smiled, distracted, her eyes already searching for Jamie amongst the crowd. “He left because he respects me. Because he trusts me – us - with all his heart.”

“I wish you happiness, Claire.” Frank finally turned away, hiding the pain in his eyes.

“Be happy too, Frank.” She tilted her head. “As I am.”


Claire searched for Jamie inside the room – spending quite some time in pushing through the animated crowd and stopping to exchange pleasantries with teachers from the medical department, some already quite inebriated. He was nowhere within sight, so Claire decided to search for him outside.

When the big oak doors caved under the pressure of her hands, she was saluted by the night’s cold breeze, the taste of oranges and jasmine on the back of her throat. It seemed like the party had extended beyond the premises of the Hall - students were scattered in the lawn in front of the building, laughing and talking in small groups.

She spotted Jamie – looking magnificent in his grey suit pants and light blue shirt - talking to John – clad in black and grey - under the shadows of a cypress. They were tall and beautiful, like legends of days long forgotten, best friends in times of peace and warriors when the occasion called for such actions. John was talking rapidly to Jamie, who seemed to be entirely amused by whatever was being said. Eventually he whispered back to John and they both laughed together.

Claire could tell the moment Jamie had spotted her – even at distance his eyes seemed to soften and the corners of his mouth were pushed on an eager smile. He patted John’s back in farewell and started to walk towards her.

For an instant she could see John Grey, left behind as Jamie made his way to her, and a shiver shot through her spine. It was like looking into a strange mirror - his eyes betrayed exactly the same desire and adoration that could be found within her own.

The Happy Ending

Originally posted by smallherosix

Tadashi Hamada x Reader

The Happy Ending

Author: Morgan


Note: F-yeah!


There was fire. Screaming. People running as fast as they could, away from the burning building. The showcase had gone so well, but now…everything was going wrong.

“Callahan’s still in there!” Tadashi insisted, kissing you and rubbing Hiro’s head before running into the flames. And then. The explosion.

You sat up in bed, sucking in a long breath and holding your chest as you slowly adjusted to the dark bedroom. The light on the nightstand flicked on.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sighed, leaning up against the pillows. “Oh my God, it was so real.”

“I know. But it’s over. I made it out, remember?” Tadashi smiled softly, turning your cheek to face him. You nodded.

“I know.”

“Come on,” He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of your shared bed. “Let’s get some tea. Would that make you feel better?” You nodded softly. Tadashi bent down and picked you up bridal style, holding you to his chest. You kissed his jaw and cheek several times on the way down the stairs. He chuckled softly.

Once you were in the kitchen, he set you down on a stool and heated some tea in a teapot on the stove. He poured some in a mug and sat across from you at the table. You sipped the sweet drink carefully, blowing on it so you wouldn’t burn your tongue. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. He smiled, eyes locked on yours. He tilted his head to the side, amused.

“What are you looking at?”

“You,” you answered, your neatly painted fingernails drumming against the table.

“Like what you see?”

“Mhmm…” you hummed, reaching for his hand. He gladly wrapped it around yours.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And I’m never going to leave you. Ever. I swear on my life. You’re stuck with me.”

“Gee, what a shame that is,” you laughed, taking another sip of your warm drink. You got up from your stool and walked over to him.

“What’re you doing?”

“This,” you sat on his lap. He laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist and peppering kisses along your neck before resting his forehead against your warm skin.



“Never scare me like that again. Okay?”

“Okay…” he nodded. “I promise.”



The air shimmers, the sky fragments into aqua crystals. Surely entropy is nigh? Reality is pulsing! I tell you that every moment throbs, every second you are born anew.

 Identity is a myth; we are all  stardust that explodes in ashes. We must descend into the dirt, regenerate a thousand times.


Strobe lights dance before our eyes; you wield your white magic with childlike laughter and a lily-white dress. I chase you to the park and kiss you on the swings. I’m possessed by an arch angel and existence seems surreal and sweet.


The fairy floss melted instantly on my tongue, I devoured cherry lolly pops, cinnamon gum and chocolate milk. Blood sugar overdrive, hallucinations blossom inside my brain, spun from sugar, flavored with fantasy. I tear flower petals in my hands; I fall drunkenly into muddy fields.


Harlequin smile-is this joy real? Am I only high from candy illusions? I cannot be mere food for fear; I must dream desire into being. I need to melt into infinity, become something more than pain.


Shadows distort within these midnight, morphine woods. Eyes blaze and follow me where ever I go. I Run into caverns of endless fear, seek out nihilistic nightmares because kissing death and inhaling her rancid breath keeps nausea at bay. 

I’m running straight into the flames; to burn my soul alive.

                        I break my teeth on peanut brittle; I break my heart on longing.

                             Why are we all so alone?

            Empty vessels floating in a universe constructed from enchanting lies.

                       One foot in the abyss and the other within a fairy tale.

To The Stars

With holy voice I call the stars on high,
Pure sacred lights and genii of the sky.
Celestial stars, the progeny of Night,
In whirling circles beaming far your light,
Refulgent rays around the heavens ye throw, Eternal fires, the source of all below.
With flames significant of Fate ye shine,
And aptly rule for men a path divine.
In seven bright zones ye run with wandering flames,
And heaven and earth compose your lucid frames:
With course unwearied, pure and fiery bright forever shining thro’ the veil of Night.
Hail twinkling, joyful, ever wakeful fires! Propitious shine on all my just desires;
These sacred rites regard with conscious rays, And end our works devoted to your praise.

—  Hymns of Orpheus

ASOUE character aesthetics —–> Young Count Olaf

“He was a scoundrel, a thief, a villain, and an overall terrible actor. Why would any of us have been surprised when he made the treacherous decision to cause such a great divide? Firestarters have flames running through their veins, and, as painful as it is for me to tell you this, Olaf was no exception.”