I see your “Julia survived instead of Magnus” AUs and I raise you a Chalupa and a Hekuba as her adventuring buddies …Trois Rowdy Gurls, anyone?

I don’t even know anymore  ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 


ᕦ( ᐕ )ᕡ


Rare Roman Glass Flask with Handles, 3rd-4th Century AD

With footed base ring, with four applied handles in blue, three of them connecting the lower neck to the body, and one connecting the rim to the body. The flaring rim decorated with blue trail underneath the lip.

Of exceptional quality and very rare: This is the only known example having one of the handles connecting the body and the rim.


Separation of a highly fluorescent anthranilic acid derivative from the reaction mixture.

The upper organic layer dissolved almost completely my compound from the reaction mixture and could be separated in one step. A good point was that the compound had a really strong fluorescence and if I placed an UV lamp next to the separation funnel it was easily observed that the water phase contained almost none of the title compound. 

If love is blind, then you must feel my heart
A collection of fingertips and lips,
signatures of their names left in braille
I drink my fears from a flask made of flesh
loving you was realizing
a fresh dozen of roses
will wilt away some day

If love is blind, then you must hold my hands
A regret that I can’t write down,
signatures of their names left in braille
I saved your tears inside of a flask
loving you was realizing
the ocean will some day
reach my shores–
a tsunami of emotions
left in a hurry

If love is blind, then I must feel your heart too
is your heart scattered with hieroglyphics too?
it’s such a tragedy to love without eyes
so coat my skin with your taste
and I’ll surrender my feelings
to someone new, but only if I knew better–

No wonder why it is hard to open up.

i left my name in braille not on your heart,
but on your lips instead.
so the next time someone kisses you,
maybe they’ll wonder about the ones
who kissed you first.

i burn love letters into my skin,
but i can never get it right.
so the next time someone kisses me,
maybe i’ll wonder if it’s real
or just a fling.

a fresh dozen of roses,
but they’ll still wilt.
if love is blind,
then i must be blind too.
a poem without a proper ending,
the only way that i know
if you’ve been here or not–

If love is blind and we were in love,
did I see for who you really were
or who I thought you were to me?
—  If love is blind