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marlynnofmany · 1 year ago

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Just a Rock

For all the time I’ve spent traveling through space, I haven’t spend much of it actually out in space. It’s unsettling. Inside the ship, I can forget how close the airless void is, how small our precious bubble of air. But outside, everything is black like some vast creature ate all the color in the universe first, then the air, and is now hungering for life forms too.

Sometimes those distant stars look like teeth.

These are the thoughts that tend to pop up when I’m in my exo suit, hoping that my thruster pack doesn’t run out of fuel before I make it back to the ship. But then an empty pack of chips will float by my visor, and I can refocus on business.

That’s how it happened today, at any rate. (And yes, “day” is a silly concept in the blackness of space.) We’d made a detour to see if we could pick up some extra funds by gathering salvage from a museum ship that had gone kablooey, but so far all we were finding was trash.

Paint jetted past in her own exo suit, upside-down to my frame of reference, then stopped to pull apart a jumble of carpet fragments. “They really did clear out the good stuff already,” she said over the radio. She swatted aside a drink cup with her tail, looking like a little space-suited dinosaur, a thought that kept me entertained for a good few seconds.

Captain Sunlight’s voice said, “Keep an eye out for scrap metal. That may already be gone too, but it’s worth a shot.” She was somewhere else in the drifting junk pile, or maybe back near the ship; I couldn’t tell. There was too much stuff in the way. This was a mildly alarming thought — out of sight meant out of safety — but I caught a glimpse of the Frillian twins posted as safety guards at the edge of the cloud, and my heartbeat settled a bit.

“Do you think anyone will buy some mildly used carpet?” Paint asked the captain. “It’s only in several pieces.”

“Let’s go with ‘no.’”

“What about some very exotic — what is this — napkins? Made with authentic Earth wood fibers!”

I looked over at that. “How can you tell?”

“Oh, I have no idea,” Paint said. She held up half of a wall placard. “But this is from the Earth exhibit, so maybe the napkins are too.”

I looked around at the trash in a new light. “Man, it’s a pity we weren’t here for any of the good stuff.”

“Yeah, and all these food packages are empty! We can’t even get you a slightly exploded taste of home!”

I waved my hand through a cluster of soda bottles. “I appreciate the thought.”

Paint jetted over to a different pile of whatever. “Hey, do you think any of this food trash was actually an exhibit? Packaging from olden days?”

“Uh, maybe,” I said. “Probably not. That’s not the sort of thing I’d expect on a multi-species museum ship. A janky little humans-only one, maybe. But even then, most people aren’t going to care.”

Something clunked against the back of my helmet. I hate that. Nothing like a reminder that I can’t see behind me like some species can. I toggled the jets to rotate in place, so I could find the offending object.

It was a rock.

“What’s this doing here?” I asked, closing a gloved hand around it and bringing it in for a closer look.

“What’d you find?” Paint asked, sticking out sideways from behind a twisted bench.

“A rock.”

“A meteorite rock?” she asked. “Oh hey, do you think it pierced the hull?”

“No, it doesn’t look like a space rock,” I said, turning the small gray-and-white lump over. It was mostly smooth, with a divot that would have fit a fingertip if I hadn’t been wearing the gloves. “Weird. I wonder if it was part of some Neolithic exhibit or something.”

“Can I see?” Paint jetted over to park herself in roughly the same orientation as me. She was very good with that jetpack.

I showed her the rock. “It doesn’t look like any gemstone I know. Maybe some kid had it in their pocket, then threw it away.”

Paint cocked her head. “Is that normal, for your young to carry rocks around?”

“Sure. You never picked up something you thought was neat as a kid?”

“Not a rock,” Paint said with exaggerated disdain. “A sweet-smelling seednut or herb, absolutely.”

“But look: it’s even got a little finger groove,” I pointed out. “You could stick it in a pocket and rub it for luck.”

“Could you?”

I smiled. “You could. You probably wouldn’t, but…”

“Why?”

I looked at the rock again, already fond of it. “I get the feeling that I couldn’t explain this to a point where you’d agree.”

Paint shrugged. “Probably not. But hey, we found you a souvenir after all. From probably the Earth section of whatever museum this is.” She grabbed a handful of colorful pamphlets drifting by. “The ‘Galaxy in a Bottle Museum Tour Ship.’ Who named that?”

My smile turned into a wide grin. “Humans.”

Paint grumbled about the unflattering comparison of an elite starship to a simple bottle. When she moved to toss the pamphlets away, I held out a hand.

“What’s that white one?” I asked. “It looks like a display sign.”

Paint flipped over the stack and separated the one I meant. “You’re right. Hey, it’s about a rock!”

I reached out a grabby hand. “Gimme.”

She passed it over. “Is it that rock?”

I read the title, then was gut-punched by familiarity. I’d heard about this. “Yes,” I managed, skimming the rest of the sign and holding the rock close. “This is Bethan’s Rock.”

“What?”

I fumbled to explain. “Ages ago, a kid visited a museum — a human kid — and learned what museums were for, then offered her favorite rock as a donation, so other people could appreciate it too.”

Paint cocked her head in the other direction. “And they took it?”

“Yes!” I must have looked a little wild at this point, but I didn’t care. “The adults agreed that it was a fine thing to donate, not to mention adorable, and the only one of its kind that I’ve ever heard of. More museums should house the occasional favorite rock, though I suppose they wouldn’t be as special if they did.”

“So just to clarify,” Paint said. “There isn’t anything valuable about this rock, except that one of your youths decided there was. And all the adults played along.”

I smiled down at it, careful not to let it drift away. “It’s the most precious non-precious stone I’ve ever seen.”

Paint stared for a moment. “It’s not even one of those shiny ones you like.”

I laughed. “I know!”

The captain called us back in at that point, having found one decent chunk of metal among the mountains of trash. We had a schedule to keep.

I folded the sign and tucked it into my suit pocket, but held the rock tight in my fist as I jetted toward the ship, working the controls with one hand. I was already thinking of the safest place in my quarters to keep it until we got ahold of the proper Earth museum authorities. Other humans would want to see Bethan’s Rock, after all, but it would be my honor to watch over it until they could.

~~~

(Inspired by this post. Long live Bethan’s Rock.)

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character of this book. More to come!

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slunch · 5 months ago

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The third time Vegas drank a healing potion, he looked down and his chin bumped against the barbed arrow that was protruding from his neck.

He clutched at it futilely, even tried pulling it out against all training but the pain was so extreme he almost blacked out then and there. He staggered back, blood welling up in his throat. Next to him, he was dimly aware of other people with arrows in them.

He realized he couldn’t breathe because he was choking on his own blood and his body wouldn’t let him inhale. The blood spilled up and out of his mouth, warming his neck and chest, all the while the need for air was like a bell ringing in his ears. He staggered back and put his hands to his face, his throat, as though to seal the leak, and they came back soaked red as his blood kept tumbling to the ground without him. The world spun and he sank to his knees for better balance. He put a hand out that immediately sank into the soaked earth.

He was almost about to give in and inhale blood when someone put a hand on his shoulder and a small metal flask to his mouth.

“DRINK!” a voice yelled.

He looked up at them with swimming vision and blood trickling out of his mouth, tried to indicate the arrow in his throat but his arms wouldn’t move. The hand moved to his jaw, gripped and twisted it and forced it up with the flask still to his lips. He could barely feel the cool liquid inside, a trickle of it already running down his cheek. Vegas realized the blood wasn’t pumping and spilling out of his mouth like it used to be, and wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing.

“DRINK, FOOL!” the voice yelled again.

Vegas opened his mouth and let the flask empty into his throat. He tried to swallow but couldn’t, because the arrow was blocking the movement of the muscles. His ears were ringing and his body finally took a last gasp of air. His blood, mixed with the foreign liquid, spread through his lungs in a red blossom of pain unfurling in his chest. Vegas tried to cough the blood out, but that required breathing in, and all he could do was fall airless onto the ground like a crumpled piece of paper as he lost vision.

Vegas lay twitching in dark agony for what felt like minutes, waiting for death to hurry up and take him.

But the bottle took effect. His lungs absorbed the blood that was filling them and his throat swelled, pushed the arrow out like it was a tonsil stone. Vegas took a full, deep, shuddering breath as his tears spattered the bloody mud. The hands yanked him to his feet.

“Where’s your sword?” the healer asked.

Vegas was afraid to speak, brain caught on the phantom arrow in his throat, and only gestured to where it glimmered a few paces away. Beyond it, the battle still raged, men and horses churning the mud into a froth. He doubled over and heaved, but only a thin dribble of bile left his mouth. The retching was painless. The bile that would have ordinarily burned his throat could have been water.

She slapped him on the back. “No excuses. Get back in there,” she said, and stalked away to another man who was screaming in the mud. Vegas stumbled towards his sword, one hand still holding his throat.

The second time Vegas drank a healing potion, he was limping, bruised and burned, through the abandoned foothill village. Behind him, the evening sky was orange and full of smoke, and as he trudged on, the slowly falling snow took on a gray tinge from the ashes. The darkening plain, cloudy skies and his slow pace meant the abandoned pass was still out of sight.

He gritted his teeth, knelt down against the protests of his bad knee and rummaged through his tattered backpack. At the bottom, his fingers touched a wineskin, and he pulled it up through the potatoes he’d managed to salvage from the nearby farmlands. Behind him, through the fog, an occasional scream came on the thin wind. But Vegas was a survivor over everything else, no matter what he had to leave behind.

He uncorked the wineskin with stiff fingers and poured its remaining dark rancid honey contents down his throat, said a small prayer that the potion hadn’t completely expired, and waited. He was a hunched figure in a tattered cloak and a half-crouch on the side of the road, underneath the skeletal apple tree.

Then, like a warm summer rain, the tension in his back eased and his tendons loosened. As he stood, his kneecap started moving correctly again and the cut over his eye sealed.

Vegas tightened the straps on his backpack and hurried on.

The first time Vegas drank a healing potion, he woke up on the grass by the road. The tree above him slowly came into view. His head hurt severely, and when he looked down at his feet, his ankle was twisted.

Then he started to cry, because it was the most pain he’d ever felt in his life so far. His parents came rushing out of the house where they’d been packing, assessed the damage, and made him lie down on the bed while they quietly discussed their options.

“He’s been looking forward to the harvest festival all year, we can’t just leave him here.”

“He can’t walk.”

“Don’t we have...? The one you were saving?”

“That’s for a serious injury, not an apple-picking fall.”

“Come on, you can’t always save it for a rainy day. Let the kid live a little.”

Vegas watched curiously, tears drying on his face, as his father hurried down into the basement and came back with a small glass bottle. It had a simple wrought-iron frame, as though it was made to be taken places, and a wired cork with a piece of twine around it.

His father peered at the label at the end of the twine, then shrugged to his mother.

“He’s a strong lad. I don’t see the use in saving half of it for the next time I stub a toe.”

He held it up in front of Vegas so it caught the light from one of the house’s small windows. Inside the bottle, the burgundy liquid swirled thickly. His father deftly unwired the cork and opened it, and Vegas took it in a small hand. The bottle smelled like its iron casing, but also like honey and damp leaves.

“Just finish it quick, lad,” his father said.

It tasted much worse than it smelled, but went down fast. The little boy watched in astonishment as the scrapes on his hand vanished, and then yelled in surprise as his ankle slowly twisted back to its original position.

“It’s okay,” said his father, holding him. “No pain?”

He got up, leaning on both parents for support, and took a few cautious steps.

“No pain,” he said.

Above him, his parents smiled at each other.

#scraps #mine #same universe as that other magician guard post i wrote last week #for fahrenheit who wanted more

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azrielgreen · 1 year ago

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Prism Part Two Preview

Trigger warnings for disturbing content; it's Prism, so please take care.

It’s been days.

He thinks… no, he knows it’s been days.

There’s no clock, no light, no window, no air.

They took his watch, isn’t that fucking hilarious?

The chair’s metal, uncomfortable as fuck and the table’s metal too, it catches the glare from above; single, exposed light bulb and it’s in the back of Billy’s fucking skull, screaming there as it bounces around off the bone, nowhere to go, like a pinball of vicious, bright agony.

He’s fucked up worse than just a headache, but it’s that motherfucker that just won’t ease off.

Light’s too bright, no air, no time, dark everywhere except the bulb.

He’s so thirsty, mouth dry as bone, head pounding. He knows the feel of cracked ribs, knows that very specific ache as he breathes, even shallow. There’s a back molar missing, he remembers spitting it at some point. His kidneys are tender, his whole body is beat to shit. End two fingers on his left hand are broken, both of them. His nose is absolutely fractured if not broken, same for his right wrist. He’s not been beat this bad since his piece of shit Dad was still alive.

The room stinks of his own piss.

It’s soaked into his jeans, warm and damp and ripe.

Billy hasn’t left this room since they threw him in here. Airless, lightless, bright and cruel.

He’s beat his fists raw on the door, fucked his vocal chords up too, but for jack shit. Nobody’s listening, nobody answers.

Every now and then, that cunt Jim Hopper will saunter in, pull some shit, rough Billy up again, ask the same fucking questions then leave, refusing to answer the one thing Billy repeats over and over.

Is Steve OK?

No one will tell him.

And it’s been days if not weeks.

No, it can’t be weeks.

He’d be dead if it was weeks.

Can’t survive long without water.

Billy’s head is in his arms, against the table.

He’s laughing softly, mind swimming.

Thinks that this is a fucked up way to die.

And man, he’s got some basis for comparison.

He flinches hard when the door kicks open, swings so fast it smacks into the wall and makes a bang like a gunshot and Billy’s entire nervous system jams up into his throat.

He’s a kid again, he’s in LA, the summer with the storms, never seen anything like it, he’s with his Dad’s friends, they’re teaching him cards, they’re…

The vicious splash of water thrown right into his face steals his breath, icy cold and painful. He’s gasping, choking, too stupid to try and actually get any of it in his mouth, but it’s too late anyway.

Jim Hopper closes the door behind him, sets stuff down on the table.

‘Stinks in here,’ he observes calmly. ‘You piss yourself like a little boy, Hargrove? We got toilets here, don’t you know.’

Still gasping, trying to get air in his lungs, Billy blinks the water out of his eyes, his hair dripping onto his shirt. He watches Hopper sit opposite him. On the table, there’s a file, a box, two coffees and a bottle of water.

The box has got food in it. Deep fried sugary shit, it’s fairground donuts, that’s the smell.

Billy looks away, wants to cry.

‘Aww,’ Hopper coos, grinning coldly. ‘You gonna turn on the waterworks, princess? Nobody here to see it but me, might be wasting your talent there.’

Billy gets a few breaths in deep enough to force his body to calm. He says nothing, knows better by now.

But god, he wants that water.

Hopper opens the file.

Coming October 20th!

#prism fic #billy hargrove

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pkgco · 18 days ago

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Use The Packaging Company to improve your brand. More than 25 years of experience making unique packaging for well-known retail brands. We create solutions that safeguard and improve your products, whether they are cosmetics or medications. Reach out to us now.

#Child Resistant Aluminum Tubes #Child Resistant Airless Bottles

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arfathbaig112 · 5 months ago

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Airless Jars

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#airless jars #Airless bottles

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blogofloathing · 9 months ago

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Part 1 of 1, Victoria And The Bespectacled Girl

"Got anything on your line?" Gesturing vaguely in Walter's direction with her back turned to him.

He paused, as if maybe Victoria had summoned a fish with her query, but the rod stayed slack.

"m'nope, maybe they're gone fishin'" he coughed, letting out a joke so dad she didn't even bother with a lighthearted sigh in admonishment.

And in any case her lungs were busy working, as she dug through another large hill of refuse,

Bottles and wrappers, shopping carts, broken glass and jagged metal, but still no food.

These dubious materials clinging to each other with whatever weird algae grew in these parts.

For a moment she thought she felt something, but one again it was snatched back by whatever spirit had brought it out to her in the first place.

And finally she wrenched herself free of the garbage heap, sat dam to the river, her only findings were a new set of scrapes along her arms.

An unpleasant risk when scavenging, though she found the scratching to be oddly satisfying

"Walt I'm tellin' ya these fish ain't bite these days!"

Her companion giving a strained sort of chuckle, something between tobacco and weed.

It was a wonder you couldn't see clouds billow out when he spoke, to obscure his patchy stubble.

"Mm, maybe we need to pick a new spot.." the words themselves glancing around the little hovel,

Recollecting her favorite graffiti or nastiest gash.

She paced around idly, shoes providing less than comfort with soles long since worn out.

This had been their spot, finding a pile of trash comfortable enough to sleep on took time!

But she couldn't deny that if the fish had run dry, and not due to being cooked, something would have to change soon,

"I'm cool with whatever though" Walter added, a disclaimer just incase his plan didn't work out.

Victoria stood thinking for some time, it's not like she had much to move,

She could count her possessions on one hand, half of which accounted for the clothes on her back.

The rest summing up to Walter's various bags of supposed bait—and though she questioned the quality of his selection—it had worked until now.

She allowed those fish one last rain check before Bus Victoria would depart.. and..

"Urgg okay! Let's go!" Her exclamation a symbolic and literal stomping of her foot.

Walter's face maintained a neutral, calm smile, as she began marching around.

"m'all I've got's my fisher pole, so just let me know" Walter mumbled, taking a debatably deserved rest.

Back flat against the bridges support beam, it was so old she wondered if he would collapse it.

The whole setting was a minefield of rusty metal and discarded items tossed over the railing.

Which lended well to the hobo lifestyle, someone's always too full to finish their food, and equally too lazy to seek out a trashcan.

And when that didn't work, Walter knew his way around the fishing pole.

This is how the pair had subsisted until new government regulations swooped in to sever this lifeline, making it illegal to actually fish in the river.

Signs were pegged all around warning passersby that to catch anything here was punishable by law

Including those same signs, sitting in piles nearby. Transformed into yet another nameless trash pile.

She set her hands together and closed her eyes,

"Please let there be food soon" both to herself and any god watching, a quiet prayer, just incase

Maybe some divine inspiration would come down and show her how to fix her life somehow,

Victoria had let herself become comfortable here, stupidly, of course this was unsustainable.

She just didn't think it would have to end so soon, despite all evidence, she had remained optimistic.

What if their next spot was flat too, or one of them got sick? Either would be a death sentence

These worries and tragedies-to-come swirled in her head, a violent rapid of her own making.

Rendering her mute in this airless terrarium.

She wordlessly "packed" her things, sure that Walter had said something—probably another stupid joke—but even the river din was inaudible

It felt like her life had all been building up to one big explosion, with her at its centerpoint,

An auto pilot careening herself right towards the nearest mountain, "god this sucks"

Said to no one in particular, but all the same Walter wilted back "amen to that sister"

The two of them giving a limply disconnected fist bump, an unspoken friendship with the air.

Though even if they had touched, Victoria knew she was far too insulated to enjoy his warmth.

She wandered around the small bit of land they called home, trying to take everything in

To grab every piece of herself she'd strewn about in her short time here, it was all so scattered

Like every night here had taken another minuscule of herself and plastered it onto the concrete,

Victoria almost wanted to resent this place, for coddling her, allowing her a short rest.

Like the bridge itself had deceived her, but all the same she knew it was her fault in the end.

Once again standing still in the eye of her storm, surely she was used to this by now right?

She hadn't even noticed her pace halt, as if these lingering thoughts had slowed her to a stop

The careful drag of the wind against her hulking fears and great unknowable anxieties.

Maybe this was how it was supposed to be, she'd been homeless almost as long as she'd been.

Maybe it was just the way the world worked, the losers lose, and the people up top throw their trash down on them. Out of sight out of mind.

This contemplation carried her right back into pacing, a dead man's trot, rendering her oblivious to anything around her but the weight in her heart.

Oblivious enough apparently, that she didn't see the large tread-wheeled machine in her way.

Despite its whirring and raggling, she only took notice of it when her feet had met its path.

But rather than courteously stepping to the side, it continued on, pulling dust and sand up in the air.

And out of her; an embarrassing cry of surprise, as she stumbled head over heels onto the ground.

Landing unceremoniously in a heap, adding a new scar to her already bled through knees.

She found herself staring at a pair of greasy boots, evidently belonging to the owner of the device.

"Youch! Hey watch where you're goin with that thing eh?" She clattered, rubbing her head.

As she sat up and muttered unheard profanities, sitting crossly criss cross, sans apple sauce.

"Me watch where I'm going? You almost ruined my school project being so careless!" The palid toned girl spat back, this was gonna be fun.

A sly grin gravitated onto Victorias face, "oh ho you one of them S.I.T smarty pants' huh?"

She sneered down her nose at her, despite being generally shorter on even footing.

"Yes infact I am one of 'them S.I.T smarty pants" she spoke venomously, mocking Victorias accent

"Are ya now? Well I just could never tell by ya four eyes and little gizmo here" pointedly eyeing both.

Her dark hair seemed to frizz up at the remark as if itself had felt offended on her behalf,

With a quickly reddening face and equally faltering temper she grumbled "well at least I'm educated"

"And you know I ain't? Psh, figures for an upper crust like yourself" the retort acting like a push to the chest, an overzealous verbal challenge.

Both now standing straight, Victoria looked down

"Do you even know who I am? I-" this remark pushed aside by Victorias "ohh you're one of those types huh? Well sorry missy I haven't heard of you"

Seems lucky I haven't, thought Victoria, of course some preppy trust fund kid is who she'd run into on her proverbial eviction day, "and I don't want to"

The still yet to be named girl seemed fit to burst with unpleasantries, "I'm Simone Chekhov! of the S.I.T Robotechtronics department!"

This smattering of accolades fell from her like it had been sitting right on the edge from the start.

"I've received several letters from several colleges even more prestigious but I've refused all of them because I take this field very seriously and S.I.T is the only college with a proper robotechtronics department that allows me to do what I need to do because I'm already higher level than my teachers and I'm involved in every single robotics club and related groups studying how to-"

She continued for quite a bit, Victoria had mentally tuned her out around halfway through,

A manic fire had lit in her eyes, as if she hadn't just been trying to one up this dirty hobo

At parts her expression fittingly incredulous, a fury at being questioned on her credentials,

But equally adopting a strange sort of excitement, Victoria sensed she didn't get to say all this often.

"And that's not even the half of it!" She finished, panting like her monologue had run a marathon

Victoria was partially stunned at the conclusion, just who was this girl? She wondered, even after hearing what was effectively her life story.

She glanced back at Walter for support, but all he provided was a shallow sort of thumbs up.

"I didn't understand a word of that, but congrats to ya, I'm sure your science friends love it"

A dismissive little remark, that seemed to thunk on impact with Simone, like hitting a wall

"Yeah, they do" short and snappy, a little too quick of a response, something in it trembled

"I'm sure they do.. Simmy?" Victoria said, though she remembered her name quite clearly.

"It's, Simone, thank you" something had shifted in her tone, while it hadn't been haughty before..

It was certainly more subdued, "struck a nerve eh? Figure your dorm feelin empty?" She slithered

"That's none of your bui-" a scarlet sheen leaking back into her face, gosh was she a cute one.

Victoria eyed her up and down, her hair black and glossy, strung up in two pigtails.

Giving off the effect of a disappointed rabbit with the pair tucked behind her ears.

With an oversized pair of nerd goggles sat atop like a pair of rings for a wedding.

"Look you're a real sweetheart I'm sure but me an' my pal over there-" pointing backwards to Walter in the complete wrong direction.

"Need to go find our next fishin spot-" but before Victoria could finish her exit,

Simone cut her off with a pippy sort of ahem, "you do know fishing in the lake is-"

"Illegal yeah and unless you have a machine that grows fish, you can shove it"

Simone looked a bit shocked at the expression on her face, but hit back with.

"Well if you knew anything about robotechtronics you'd know that's not how it works!"

"Well I don't need to know a thing about it because it's not a field worth pursuing!"

The two let out a growl of frustration, moving closer, their words circling each other like lions.

"At least I'm not living under a bridge!"

"Well la dee da misses richy rich here!"

"I'll have you know I worked hard to get into this college! Something you clearly wouldn't get!"

"Oh it's real easy to get, you put together a few nuts and bolts and now you're a fuckin genius!"

Simone had an almost hilarious expression of indignation, as if she wouldn't be able to stand this stupid girl a second longer.

Victoria snarled each biting remark like a beast at the bedside of a dying animal, eager to hunt for this entertainingly easy prey.

With each advance of their argument the deep maroon shuttering their faces flooded in.

The pairs fists clenched as if to strike, but using only their words, flames licking at their skin

"ugh!! You are impossible! I don't even know why I'm still standing here arguing with you!"

She shouted, the angry expletive echoing around the cavernous space where they stood.

"Then why are you still standing here dumbass! We need to find a new place before it gets-"

A well of emotions that had been prime to rupture the entire time finally exploded inside her,

Even her freckled ears turned a dark shade of red, staining every part of her pale skin.

"Do you wanna sleep in my dorm?!" Less of a question, and more so a screamed exclamation.

Suddenly the mood had seemed to shift, but not in too drastically different a manner.

This was the last thing Victoria would've expected, it caught her so off guard she nearly fell again

"W-What? You want me to-" but the shorter girl had already started dragging her alongside.

"Let's just go! You look like shit anyway, and smell as much too!" Though this seemed unrelated.

"Well why don't we go then? We don't need you stinking up the place anymore" Victoria hissed.

"You're the one with stink lines coming off you!" Following up with "not to mention that hair"

Practically spitting in the bespectacled girls face, "fuckin nerd I can't believe I'm gonna go see your stupid ivory tower" rolling her eyes exaggeratedly.

"It's not like you're moving in, idiot!" She blistered hotly, "I'm bending the rules enough bringing a girl like you into this school.." Simone grumbled further

"Well thank you soooo much I'm sure it'll be very hard for you" Victoria drawled sarcastically

"Yeah it will be actually thank you very much!" A delightful fury painting her round face.

The two bickered all the way to her campus, their faces a moment apart at every step.

Their loud shouting battle soon replaced once more with the sound of the rushing river,

While Walter contentedly watched them walk off, good for Victoria, he thought, mildly amused.

He reached for another wriggling fuzzy worm, and skewered it expertly onto the aged old rusty hook.

And with a hefty swing.. he slung the line back out.

Part 1 of 1 END! What A Delightful Start To A Surely Long Lasting Friendship, Walter Was There Too!

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floraison-cosmetic-packaging · 7 months ago

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Shaping Tomorrow: Exploring Future Trends in Airless Packaging Technology

As the cosmetic industry continues to evolve, so too does the technology that supports it. In this article, we'll take a glimpse into the future of airless packaging, exploring emerging trends and advancements that promise to revolutionize the way products are preserved, presented, and consumed. From innovative materials to cutting-edge dispensing mechanisms and sustainability practices, the future of airless packaging is brimming with possibilities. Innovative Materials: Pioneering Sustainability and Performance. One of the most exciting trends in airless packaging is the development of innovative materials that balance sustainability with performance. Brands are increasingly turning to biodegradable and compostable materials, such as plant-based plastics and bioresins, to reduce environmental impact without compromising on functionality. Additionally, advancements in material science are enabling the creation of lightweight yet durable packaging solutions that offer enhanced protection and stability for cosmetic formulations.

Revolutionary Dispensing Mechanisms: Redefining User Experience The future of airless packaging lies in revolutionary dispensing mechanisms that redefine the user experience. Brands are exploring innovative technologies, such as airless foaming pumps and customizable dosage systems, to offer consumers greater convenience and control over product application. These advancements not only enhance the efficacy of formulations but also elevate the perceived value of products, fostering loyalty and trust among consumers.

Sustainability Practices: Embracing Circular Economy Principles As consumers become increasingly conscious of their environmental footprint, brands are embracing sustainability practices that prioritize circular economy principles. This includes designing packaging that is easily recyclable, reusable, or refillable, as well as implementing initiatives to reduce packaging waste throughout the supply chain. Airless packaging plays a pivotal role in this shift towards sustainability, offering brands a versatile and eco-friendly solution that aligns with consumer values and regulatory requirements.

Meeting Changing Needs and Preferences: Adaptability and Customization

In the dynamic landscape of cosmetics, airless packaging must evolve to meet the changing needs and preferences of consumers and brands. This includes greater adaptability and customization options, allowing brands to tailor packaging solutions to specific product formulations and target demographics. Whether it's personalized packaging designs, modular dispensing systems, or smart packaging technologies, the future of airless packaging is all about flexibility and customization.

Conclusion: Embracing Innovation and Sustainability As welook towards the future, one thing is clear: airless packaging will continue to play a pivotal role in shaping the cosmetics industry. By embracing emerging trends and advancements in materials, dispensing mechanisms, and sustainability practices, brands can stay ahead of the curve and meet the evolving needs of consumers. At Floraison Cosmetic Packaging, we're committed to driving innovation and sustainability in airless packaging, empowering brands to deliver superior products that inspire confidence and promote well-being in South Africa and beyond.

Shop our products on www.floraison.net/products. Send an email to [email protected] to get more information. Alternatively, follow Floraison on Facebook on www.facebook.com/floraisonsa as well as on Instagram on www.instagram.com/floraisonsa.

#cosmetic packaging #skincare packaging #cosmetic bottles #durban #pretoria #johannesburg #south africa #packaging #beauty #airless pump bottles

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wwickedwasteland · 1 month ago

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A young woman was standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seemed to have become strangely airless...

ㅤೀ - a quick look into current playlist :: please please please by sabrina carpenter ; killin’ me good by jihyo ; cosmic by red velvet ; tattoo by loreen ; arranca by becky g ; mi ex tenia razon by karol g ; soft spot by keshi ; the boy is mine by ariana grande ; illusion by dua lipa ; late night talking by harry styles ; forget about us by perrie edwards ; lovelove u by kenia os ; changes by lauv

ㅤೀ - as described by others :: black & white ivory that when played creates beautiful music that transport you; heavy is the crown one wears when surnames mean everything so you run; looks of a pretty docile angel that hide mischievous dark thoughts; always dressed in designer; fake sunflowers in glittery vases, the ability to dazzle those around you & play the role perfectly; twilight is when you come alive, always feeling cold even when everyone around you feels warm; not bothering to take back change after a purchase; buying endless bottles of perfume you know you’ll never use.

STATS

NAME : zehra sahin

NICKNAME : goes by zee

AGE : thirty-one

GENDER IDENTITY : cis woman (she/her pronouns)

SEXUAL/ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : bisexual biromantic

SPOKEN LANGUAGES : english, turkish

OCCUPATION : heiress, owner of tiny suns

POSITIVE TRAITS : out-going, empathetic, charming

NEGATIVE TRAITS : vain, sardonic, cautious

FACECLAIM : hande ercel

PETS : a grey scottish fold cat named Dior

FAMILY : has a two year old son named hendrix with tba wc.

BIO ;; (neglect mention tw)

Zehra Sahin, the daughter and eldest child of the Sahin Family who own and run a successful public relations company in Los Angeles. they're known for how well they handle client's scandals and their cutthroat attitude towards the business while keeping their own family life very private. Zee was doted as a child and her mother loved to brag about how adorable she was to all her friends and the public, but behind closed doors was a different story. Sure she was born with a golden spoon in her mouth who got whatever she wanted (music lessons, toys, dance classes, etc.) except what she needed: her parents attention. Of course they went on to have to more children afterwards but nothing changed.

From a young age, it was the nanny and maids who watched, cared, and raised them. Both parents spending all their time to build the company to what it is now known today. But of course if there was a private society event happening where they needed to look like the picture perfect family or parent, Zehra and her siblings would appear there at their side with a big smile on their faces.

While yes, she did get to go to the best schools offered where she hoped to thrive in, it wasn’t the case. Many kids made fun of her, whether its because they saw her as a lonely kid who focused on having good grades or for having her nanny show up to school events instead of her own parents.

Things then changed. In the beginning of their teenage years, she had a drastic makeover, and soon, many were trying to be her friend. She became popular and loved the attention even though all she did was changer her appearance, an alternate version of herself that she realized many people adored.

During high school she discovered a passion for teaching and made it her goal to one day work with children. Though it would be tough, as her life had been planned since the moment she was born and after graduating both highschool and university with honors, and a degree in business and child education, her parents begin talk of marriage.

Fast forward to the present: Zee decided to leave her hometown of Los Angeles due to all the plans her parents had for her and she didn't want to follow in their footsteps (though she is scared that one day they'll come for her and take her back). Since moving to Austin over four years ago and using the money she had saved over many year, she opened up and now runs a childcare center that is her pride and joy. Zehra also has a two year old son named Hendrix with TBA and their relationship is interesting. Some say she's always looking over her shoulder and can be a little guard about her personal life but everyone says it's because she is still new to the area after arriving so abruptly.

TDLR ;; (smoking TW)

Personality wise, Zee is your typical rich it girl. she is always down to party or going out for drinks. she drinks too much coffee for her own good and orders too much take out despite her actually being a decent cook. loves to read all genres of books. Her job, cat, and son are the three loves of her life.

She can be a bit vain, maybe it comes with being born with a silver spoon or the fact that everything has somehow always been in her favor. She knows she is talented and isn't afraid to mention all the accolades she has had. Zehra can be very sarcastic and blunt. isn't one to sugar coat things ( if you're straight with her, she'll be the same with you ).

Ships came natural to her, whether being able to make friends real easy or jumping straight into a relationship with someone. with friends, she'll be loyal, the one to take care of you when sick, the one you should def call to bail you out of jail or if need a reference for a job. though the minute you cross her, its over between you both. with love, she loves the idea of love to a fault, maybe it comes from listening to too many love songs or reading too many romance books but she loves the chase. once the fire dies down, she'll either dip before it gets serious or does something dumb to mess it up. just know that once its over, she's on to the next person she finds.

she started reading romance books, taking notes on the characters who oozed confidence and started demonstrating it in her own life and actions. deep down, there’s still a level of insecurity there but as long as no one else is aware and therefore, can not use them against them, they’re happy to continue faking it till they no longer have to.

— CONNECTIONS;; **wanted connection

**baby daddy/complicated relationship ( open to one ) ;; they met sometime after Zehra arrived in Austin. can go multiple ways: option A: met at a party, slept together, and nine months later their child was born or option B: had a relationship and ended up having a child together then broke up. Could be co-parenting the child together or not. maybe get along for the sake of the child or always butting heads when together. their could be feelings still between them or not. Open to many things when it comes to this connection.

**ride or die ( open to one ) ;; the bestie, the platonic soulmate, the one she would do anything for, maybe they have pet names for each other, they're almost like family, etc. they are the best of friends and nothing can tear them apart (maybe?).

confidant ( open to one ) ;; don't know how it happened, maybe met at a party or in the library. they are the one person who knows how they really and can tell them anything and vice versa. they both keep each others dark secret. (maybe they have dirt on one another and that's why they don't spill anything.

crush ( open to one ) ;; someone that (despite her denying it), she’s been crushing on for a while. will they ever admit it, who knows. (could be one sided or mutual)

exes ( open to two ) ;; honestly, i just like exes. bonus points if there’s still tension or maybe still hook up but it doesn't mean anything beyond the physical or if they’re just really good friends now with no tension at all. i love options.

will they, wont they ( open to one ) ;; essentially a flirtationship. they flirt too much that others assume that they are dating or are going to at some point. maybe the idea has been on one of their mind but they are too good of friends to ever cross that line (?). or maybe its all a ruse and they're seeing how long they can take it.

one (or more) night stand / fling ( open to many ) ;; one night, she was maybe a little bit down and needed something to pick her up. this worked. or maybe they met up at the bar or a party and it just happened. whether it’s turned into a regular thing or was just one night can be determined later. maybe one catches feelings or not.

old friends ( open to a few ) ;; maybe they were friends in their younger years or met at university, but somehow, they fell apart. maybe she did something stupid and drove them away (could be fun for plotting purposes).

party buddies ( open to a few ) ;; she isn’t one to say no to a night of drinks and partying that leads to her regretting in the morning. just know she is ready for night 2 if they are prepared as long as she has a babysitter ready to go.

enemies ( open to one ) ;; however these enemies became known to each other can be determined later, but either way, they dislike / hate each other. maybe its clashing attitudes, old academic rivals, or they know she has a mask on.

unlikely pals ( open to one ) ;; she is always up late, either reading or doing something for work/family. maybe they meet up to talk, eat, or maybe no talking happens and they enjoy the company to not be alone while each does their own thing. when others see them together, they think its weird.

book connections ( open to a few ) ;; so she damn sure does love books. i’d love for her to have some close buds that that she can talk about books with. maybe they have a book club of sorts or just recommend titles to each other either way its just a bunch of book nerds.

honestly anything else you can think of, i’m down for!!

#atxfm:intro

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