Waiting for the End

Juliana, Speech Therapy student, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Grey-ace/aro/femcis.
My personal stuff, some depressive shit, sometimes hopeful messages (I have a tag for it, click bellow), Lolita fashion, Japanese street fashion, feminism, Doctor Who (NuWho, Classic, Big Finish,...), Harry Potter, Sailor Moon, GOT, craft, fanfiction, MUSE, Welcome to Night Vale, Call The Midwife, Orphan Black, Miss Fisher... I have too much fandoms and I'll post whatever I want.
I won't tag all my stuff, but I will tag whatever you want if it's triggering you, just send me a message asking :)
Tracking: jubilu

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Mic Drop. 

“Every carbon atom in every living thing on the planet was produced in the heart of a dying star.”

Brian Cox (via whats-out-there)

Reblog25 minutes ago with 299 notes



"So, where are we gonna go first?"  "That way. No hold on… That way"

(I would like to title this piece: perspective, I tried.)

Omg it’s so precious!!



How to be Like Tuxedo Mask - By Mamoru Chiba

What I have learned after two weeks of drawing green jackets.

Sarah Moon ph. 

Sarah Moon ph. 

Friendship Album. Margaret Williams, 1839. Album with locks of hair sewn onto the pages.

(1/5) Favorite Relationships » Howl & Sophie

“Howl said to Sophie, ‘I’ve been wondering all along if you would turn out to be that lovely girl I met on May Day. Why were you scared then?’”

“I shall use my amazing Time Lord powers of looking out the window”

The Eighth Doctor - Memory Lane (via outofcontextbigfinish)

Reblog53 minutes ago with 165 notes



Best part of the episode, hands down.

Reblog54 minutes ago with 2 notes


10 questions to never ask a transgender person by Laura Jane Grace



Shada webcast



Triple Moon Witchery by Black Insignia

Silver necklace

9 eur

To order please send an e-mail to: deathsigildistro@gmail.com

Value excludes postage

In fact, the only things in the flat Crowley devoted any personal attention to were the houseplants. They were huge, and green, and glorious, with shiny, healthy, lustrous leaves.

This was because, once a week, Crowley went around the flat with a green plastic plant mister spraying the leaves, and talking to the plants….

Although talking is perhaps the wrong word for what Crowley did.

What he did was put the fear of God into them.

More precisely, the fear of Crowley.

In addition to which, every couple of months Crowley would pick out a plant that was growing too slowly, or succumbing to leaf-wilt, or browning, or just didn’t look quite as good as the others, and he would carry it around to all the plants. “Say goodbye to your friend,” he’d say to them. “He just couldn’t cut it…”

Then he would leave the flat with the offending plant, and return an hour or so later with a large empty flower pot, which he would leave somewhere conspicuously around the flat.

The plants were the most luxurious, verdant, and beautiful in London. Also the most terrified.

Good Omens (via emjayelle)

Reblog1 hour ago with 953 notes