everything is just blackness

INKTOBER day 16 | the Magisters Sidereal, or when you’re trying to bring black Metal Band Promo Photo realness but the priest of the god of Chaos fucks about.

On the foreground from the left to the right, High Priest of Urthemiel, High Priest of Dumat, High Priest of Razikale, High Priest of Lusacan. 

skyrose21fire  asked:

I used to have a crush on one of my friends too I knew them for a very long time and it's perfectly normal if you do if you're very close to them have fun talking to them and being next to them I wish you luck with that honey bun ^^ * jumps into a black hole and regrets everything*( forget what I just said I suck at love ;-; )

its kinda fine for all of you guys but,this particular person that i actually have a crush on is really something o\\\o

this website pisses me off, everyones always like “space is so cool!” not its not, space is bullshit and i hate everything about it, i genuinely just saw the phrase “a black hole with a mass two billion times the mass of the sun” im so pissed off, shut the fuck up, dont patronise me scientists you know i dont know what the fuck that means, my sad little brain cant comprehend the mass of one sun let alone two fucking billion, i cant even count past 10 without getting confused and youre out here talking about the mass of two billion fucking suns, shut the hell up. and dont even get me started about black holes or the expansion of the universe because thats another two seperate rants entierly. oh and apparently theres a planet made of ice except the ice is also on fire??? yeah sure fucking thing, scientists. and this is just the shit i know about. i purposely dont research space because it pisses me off so much, god knows what other fucking bullshit exists out there that ive yet to read a fucking wikipedia article about. i dont think space is real, literally everything about space is so fucking fake, this is just some elaborate fucking practicle joke. two billion times the mass of the sun, fuck you

James Potter: seventeen, hair got struck by lightning at age four and hasn’t sat down since, knuckles that jut out, holds his wand between his teeth to impress girls- to impress the girl, doesn’t own one pair of matching socks, the kind of attractive that fills the ribs, fills the shoulder blades, fills the heart, Sirius painted his nails once and he kept the polish on all week, sees the girl before registering anyone else in the room, young organs pumping young blood, wired to himself, to his boys, to the girl, can tell what you’re about to say before you say it, he’s just sort of like that, has a habit of leaning arms on peoples shoulders, starts the trust fall before anyone realises they’re  meant to be catching him

Sirius Black: seventeen, eats whipped cream by the fork full, rolls up the sleeves of his robes, begins most conversations with: you absolute fuck, column of his throat running down the neck like water, leaves his text books all over school, made of gut feeling, of instinct, of starting before you know how to finish, a part of him still stuck in that house, with the door slamming, with his mother yelling, with the world ending,  he is the bomb going off in the swimming pool, he has probably made a bomb go off in the swimming pool, smoking just outside the door- look- you can see the smoke, you can see the shaking hands.

Remus Lupin: seventeen,  jumpy, long eyelashes, the sullen quiet of fog in winter, scars up the arms, round the neck, across the chest, eyes that stare as if they are waiting for permission, plays the same records until he’s mouthing the words in his sleep, gives out flowers for gifts, sarcasm that could stop the heart, soft, like the skin above your collar bone, like stained glass windows with light through them, like seeing a star in a textbook, knowing that  something that good is out there even if it is far away, often has wind billowing through his baggy t-shirts, pulls out his bottom lip when thinking, at night wakes up sweating, dreaming of blood in his mouth, the kind you get when you rip an arm off, when you lick the bone clean.

 

Peter Pettigrew: seventeen, socks right to the knee, eating an ice cream, has a sore neck from always looking up, raw fingernails- bitten to the cuticles, full of fear, oozing fear, could fill cathedrals with this fear, burns books for no reason, unmade bed, the flush of a cheek that is bloated, a mound of blood, sits on the floor because there is no room at the table, counts on his fingers, pulled a muscle when walking up the fourth staircase, shuts his eyes, opens them, realises he is still in his own skin, pale, a stick of white, unassuming, like flowers, or the moment the ground gives way, all at once, as if it was going to all along

black female models who are not naomi campbell or tyra banks

Iman Mohamed Abdulmajid 

Beverly Johnson

Grace Jones

Naomi Sims

Akuol de Mabior

Veronica Webb

Pat Cleveland

Grace Bol

Ajak Deng

Ataui Deng

Alek Wek

Yasmin Warsame

Aya Jones

Leomie Anderson

Chrishell Stubs

Ellen Rosa

Diandra Forrest

Mambu Bayoh

Cora Emmanuel

Eva Marcille

Yaya DaCosta

Ajuma Nasenyana

Senait Gidey

Yasmin Wijnaldum

Jasmine Sanders

Ysaunny Brito

Riley Montana

Sessilee Lopez

Selena Johnson

Joan Smalls Rodríguez

Jourdan Dunn

Fatima Siad

Chanel Iman

Stephanie Bertram Rose

Herieth Paul

Winnie Harlow

Liya Kebede

Melodie Monrose

Imaan Hammam

Monica Adeng

Aluad Deng

Katoucha Niane

Lineisy Montero

Karly Loyce Celine

Devyn Abdullah

Kara Young

Alécia Morais

Kiara Kabukuru

Afrodita Dorado Dominguéz

Jasmine Tookes

Marihenny Pasible 

Waris Dirie

Samantha Archibald

Sarah Marie

Oluchi Onweagba

Bijon Hill

Amilna Estevao

Damaris Goddrie

Donyale Luna

Caroline Bwonobo

Nyasha Matonhodze

Malaika Firth

Anais Mali

Grace Wales Bonner

Awa Lo

Nyasha Matonhodze

Mari Agory

Laura Ruth Harrier

Maria Borges

Cassandra Ventura

Vickie Sorensen

Carola Katy Da Rosa

Larissa Barros

Ashlee Desire

Leila Nda

Iesha Hodges

Mame Camara

Samira Carvalho

Olive Estephani

Lana Ogilvie

Aminata Sanogo

Tami Williams

Djenice Duarte

Crystal Noriega

Nykhor Paul

Aamito Lagum

Aleece Wilson

8

“This connection between me and Voldemort, what if the reason for it is that I am becoming more like him? I- I just feel so angry. All the time. And what if after everything that I’ve been through, something’s gone wrong inside me? What if I’m becoming bad?”