#Child Resistant Tincture Bottles | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

werrmu · 3 years ago

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Headcanons on Demi because she deserved it!! ♡♡

Firstly, when she first arrived at the estate, she was only interested in one thing: finding her missing brother. The woman didn't care at all about the conflicts in the new environment, about all these creepy personalities who looked gloomily at her back, about the rumors about the Oletus estate and the estate itself. Finding Sam is literally Demi's life goal. But only until it was her turn to attend the match.

I don't think the owner of the estate is ready to make concessions to newcomers, because I believe that in the first match Demi faced Jack the Ripper himself, and let's be honest, she almost fainted when his sharp blades tore her back. From fear and pain shock, she lost several of her bottles, which reduced the hope of survival at times.

Demi, like her mother, has a high drug resistance, because when the infection from scratches started, caused by rust from the blades, Emily had to tinker for a very long time to somehow bring down the temperature and become festering. By the way, several scars under the shoulder blades have not yet passed, which is why Bourbon has problems as small complexes when choosing clothes.

The desire to find her brother did not disappear even after the most bloodthirsty matches, but more and more often the barmaid began to think that she regretted her decision to leave their common bar and rush into the pool of uncertainty. Sometimes, before going to bed, she remembers quiet evenings when Sam invited her to his room for a drink and a chat.

After a long time, Demi was able to find a common language with most of the survivors, except Kreacher and Freddie. She bypasses the first one after the one in the first match, when Jack left her to bleed, did not help, and just listened to the heart-rending screams of women. Riley literally stepped over her when the dark-haired woman lost consciousness and ended up in the estate. The second one does not tolerate the spirit because of the bad attitude towards Emma and, in principle, because of his strange behavior.

Jose, Kevin and, oddly enough, Patricia are considered to be closer people to her. With Baden, they agreed on the general traits of character and love of alcohol. These passionate people often drink wine and tell each other stories from life. We managed to get a little closer to Patricia after Demi, on her birthday, gave her a tincture with medicinal herbs and one of her gold rings with a beautiful pattern. Well, a very comical (not quite) story happened to Kevin, which is why they just couldn't help but get acquainted. One day, when Robbie was the hunter and Demi was put in the basement, the cowboy, like a true gentleman and the only man in the match, ran to rescue. Unfortunately, distracted for a second, he caught a blow in the thigh with an axe and sprawled on the cold concrete. In order to somehow defuse the situation, he began to flirt with her to Robbie's loud, bubbly laughter. Most of the compliments were not heard, because the child practically did not calm down, continuing to laugh at the survivors.

Bourbon is one of the few who tried to talk to the hunter. Unfortunately, it turned out to start a small dialogue only with Joseph, who once asked what kind of strange whimsical smell was coming from her and how else the bottles with Dovlin did not break after a couple of jumps through the windows.

Wu Chang, or rather Wujiu, dislikes Demi because of the case when she chased him between the corridors in a psychiatric hospital and shouted incomprehensible drunken nonsense. At the end of the match, they still gave the team a draw, but from that moment the Black Guard promised the barmaid that if this happened again, he would turn into dust not only her, but all these ill-fated bottles of alcohol.

#identity v #barmaid #headcanon #demi bourbon

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bigstabbymen · 4 years ago

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Special.

NSFW

(TW: noncon, abuse, kidnapping I guess? Kind of projecting past abusers into Bo so.)

Carly and her friends brought along a pity invite. AU where none of them make it. The brothers take a liking to their friend though.

Mary Cecilia Dorset had no real friends, and hardly any family to speak of, when she first arrived in Ambrose. Carly, a loose friend from high school had invited her along to go camping with her, her boyfriend, and their friends. Mary knew that none of them truly desired to be friends with her, but just by being her she provided a very special schadenfreude that they all enjoyed. While Carly wasn’t unkind to her, Mary knew she knew how her friends would react to her being invited. Mary was ill, born wrong, “different” from the time she was a toddler and everyone knew it. When the car broke down mysteriously and they had to make their way to the gas station in Ambrose, she was happy for the chance to get away from them. The house of wax seemed like the perfect place to hide for a while, and though it was closed, her curiosity lead her inside. What a fine place of beautiful things, a beauty she knew her ‘friends’ would never comprehend or properly respect. Just for the hour, this would be her sanctuary, a special place just for her. Abandoned and quiet, it was the perfect place to sing. Since Mary had been a young child she had sung to herself to keep herself company, and the sound of her voice echoed around the museum. The sound traveled, and was heard by someone far beneath her in the bowels of the museum. Vincent Sinclair was confused, startled that someone was in the museum but, intrigued just as well. When he quietly made his way up to see her, he gasped to himself. What a beautiful girl, what a beautiful sculpture she would make, he thought. Her hair was chestnut brown and down to her waist, she wore a sweater almost as bulky as his own and a black skirt, black tights, black shoes. Her eyes were closed as she sang, and Vincent felt conflicted. If he made a sculpture of her he would never hear her sing again, maybe he could record her singing and play it always beside her sculpture, maybe he would keep it in the basement with him or in his room, maybe he could hide her from Bo and keep her all to himself, something for him and only him. His stomach churned. It was such an odd feeling, a sudden pang of empathy sharp as a needle in his heart. The desire not to hurt this creature, to keep her all to him, but alive and warm and moving and singing.

Though, Bo would never allow Vincent any beautiful thing all to himself.

Months had come and gone. All of Mary’s friends sat posed in perfect positions in the house of wax, winter came to Ambrose, and then Spring, and now under the harsh summer sun Mary stood outside of the Sinclair house in a sundress that had belonged to Trudy. Bo and Vincent both were very fond of dressing her in their mother’s old clothes, and as she hadn’t prepared to be in Ambrose longer than a few hours, she was happy for the new wardrobe. For the majority of her time here Vincent had tried his best to shield her from Bo, who mocked him incessantly for it. Vincent sketched her endlessly, sculpted her in various positions, filmed her whenever he could. So much of his workplace in the basement was full of her. He took pride in his little collection of Mary memorabilia that Bo would never have. Though eventually, Mary’s old life slipped away somewhere in the crevices of her brain and she became close to all three of the brothers Sinclair in one way or the other.

A few times a week she rode along with Lester when he went out to collect his dead treasures. He showered and put on fresh clothes for the occasion every single time, and Mary enjoyed his company. She wondered if he prettied himself up for her because she was a woman or because she was always wearing his mother’s clothes, her perfume, reminding all three of the brothers of her and making their desperate attachment to her all the more intense. Over her sundress she wore a pocketed apron, she carried a basket with her and she always took her shoes off as soon as she and Lester were away from Ambrose, in the wilderness together as free as children.

“Hey, beautiful.” Lester said as she approached. He was leaning against his truck and unabashedly staring at her chest.

“Good morning Lester.” she said and he smiled his crooked, toothy grin at her.

“Ready?” he asked as he opened the passenger door for her.

“Absolutely.”

Lester and Mary would go out to the woods, while he searched for any dead creature he could get his dirty hands on she searched for herbs, flowers, grasses and the like she used to make medicines, berries and mushrooms she used to cook. When her basket and the pockets of her apron were full she waited for Lester at his truck. Eventually he came around, grumbling to himself.

“Nothin’ round here. Need to get out to the highway, gonna get you home before noon or I reckon’ Bo’ll skin me.” he said, spitting. He seemed so grumpy and frustrated that Mary couldn’t help but pity him.

“Do you want a kiss?” she asked and he smiled shyly, looking at the ground as his cheeks flushed.

“Awh dang, course’ I do.” he said. Mary set her basket down and wrapped her arms around his neck. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her against him and resting his forehead against hers. His breath smelled of whiskey even this early in the morning and his erection was very apparent through his jeans as he pressed himself against her. She kissed him gently and he kissed her back desperately, it was obvious he wanted more than just a kiss, but both of them knew Bo wouldn’t be happy about it. And for that matter, neither would Vincent. Even if all of them had taken turns with her at some point of the other, she could love none of them as much as she loved Vincent. She broke the kiss and he didn’t force himself on her, Lester never did. They rode back to Ambrose mostly in silence.

Mary slipped into the house quietly, hoping not to alert Bo for as long as she could but it seemed he was out somewhere, or maybe at the gas station. Either way she was happy to be without him for the time being. The boys had given her their parents old room which she had mostly just used as a space to make tinctures and dry herbs, most nights she slept in Vincent’s bed with him, even if Bo had his way with her earlier, she would always slip away when he was finally asleep. None of the brothers could sleep well, and relied on her medicine to put them out, though she always gave Bo more than necessary.

As evening fell, Mary made her way to Vincent’s room, locking the door behind her as she entered. She knew Bo could unlock it quickly but, at least this way they would hear him coming. Vincent stood up from his desk, closing his sketchbook quickly.

“What were you drawing?” she asked kindly and he shrugged. He didn’t stop her as she made her way closer to him, opening his sketchbook and flipping through it. Image after image after image of her. Making tea in the kitchen, picking flowers, smiling, crying. Somehow he made her look beautiful.

“You can always ask me if you want me to pose for you.” She said.

“I prefer it this way.” he said quietly.

“I brought you medicine.” Mary said, plucking a small black bottle from her pocket.

“You don’t have to wear your mask around me if you don’t want to.” she said softly and he shuffled a bit uncomfortably.

“May I?” she asked as she reached for his face. He flinched, but didn’t stop her from removing it. She set it aside on his desk and pushed his hair out of his face.

“There. That’s better isn’t it.” she cooed. The way she could look at him and smile so genuinely made his heart beat so fast he thought it would explode. She ran her fingers over his face and stood on her toes to kiss both of his cheeks. His breath hitched and he put his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m sorry!” she said, knowing he was sensitive about being touched but unable to resist.

“Is this too much?”

“No. I need to kiss you.” he said breathlessly, kissing her as awkwardly as he always did. Inexperienced and innocent, but equally determined and rough. He tangled his fingers into her hair and pressed his body against hers, he pressed himself against her so hard it was like he hoped they would melt together into one person. When he finally broke the kiss to catch his breath Mary took his hand and lead him over to his bed. She began to undress him, slowly, giving him every chance to stop her if he needed to. He didn’t. He let her remove his sweater, his pants. She ran her fingers over his chest, over the trail of hair that lead down into his underwear. He grabbed her hands and pushed her down, easily pinning both of her wrists above her head in one hand. With his other hand he pushed up her dress, though she was wearing nothing beneath it. He inhaled sharply at the sight of her, her breasts, her hard nipples, her cunt..

Mary spread her legs for him and he groaned needily, his erection straining against his underwear. He tentatively reached out, slipping two of his calloused fingers into her and curling them as she had shown him before. She gasped and closed her eyes, arching her back and he bent down to take one of her nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, trying to savor every small detail of her body. He was ashamed of how many times he had pleasured himself against the sculptures he made in her image, crudely grinding his cock against the wax, taking wax nipples into his mouth, nothing compared to the real thing. Warm, soft flesh. He couldn’t wait any longer, he slid his fingers out of her and freed his cock, unceremoniously ramming it into her and releasing her wrists to hold her closely. He kissed her deeply between guttural moans, forcing his tongue into her mouth, holding onto her so tightly it was painful as he thrusted into her haphazardly, eager to be as deep inside of her as possible. Mary held him just as tightly, rubbing his back, cupping his face, stroking both of his cheeks affectionately.

“I adore you.” she said softly and his eyes rolled back as he climaxed.

Vincent didn’t want to pull out, he wanted to stay connected to Mary forever. He was nearly smothering her he was holding her to tight, pressing her head against his chest. His heart was pounding and he was still breathing heavily.

“Darling, I need to give you your medicine.” Mary said, moving his hair out of the way so she could kiss his cheek. He smiled slightly and leaned down to kiss her.

“I love you. I love you very much.” he said between kisses.

“Will you stay with me all night? Can we stay together every night, please?” he asked.

“I’m sorry if you’re tired now, or if it hurts, but sometimes could we sleep like this?”

Mary had never heard him say so much at once, he seemed so happy.

“I can try.” Mary said and Vincent happily kissed her again before finally rolling off of her.

Mary sat up and reached over to where the tincture bottle had fallen. Vincent kept a hand on her, unwilling to stop touching her for even a moment.

She straddled him, sitting on his broad chest. He bit his lip and placed his hands on her thighs, eagerly hoping to fuck her again. Instead she took the dropper from the bottle and placed a hand under his chin, opening his mouth. He lifted his tongue, allowing her to drop the bitter liquid under it. While the medicine helped, Mary’s hands stroking his hair and her soft singing were the only things to truly lull him into a restful sleep. Though, he was not the only one who required her attention in the evenings.

Bo’s footsteps were loud, sounding his arrival long before he reached Vincent’s door. Vincent grabbed Mary like he meant to hide her for a moment but she scrambled out of his grip, putting her dress back on as Bo jiggled the handle.

“Mary? You in here?” he shouted. She unlocked the door and stepped out, shutting it behind her, wanting to put space between Bo and Vincent lest he get jealous and take it out on his twin.

“Oh, ain’t this just somethin’ special.” he smirked down at her.

“How long have you been fuckin’ my brother then? Both of em?” he asked, towering over her, but he started laughing at her before she could respond.

“Ah hell. Guess we all get a turn with the only pussy in town. Don’t want you to go forgettin’ who you belong to though.” He said. He grabbed the bottle from her hand and took a swig from it, grabbing her face in his other hand and smashing his lips against hers. The bitter taste of alcohol and herbs on his lips was offensively strong as he bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

“You, are mine. This-” he said, releasing her face to grab her groin just as hard.

“Is mine. Say your goodnights to Vincent, I’ll be in my room. Don’t make me wait.” he said, pushing her hard into Vincent’s door and throwing the bottle at her. She hit her head against the door so hard she saw stars. As his footfalls faded Vincent finally came out, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m such a coward.” He was crying, a mess of tears and mucus, his hair sticking to his face.

“Couldn’t protect you, he’s gonna hurt you more.” he mumbled. Of all the people he had seen Bo hurt, all the people he had hurt for Bo, this was too much. Not Mary, not his Mary.

“It’ll be alright Vinny.” she said, smiling at him though her lips were covered in blood.

“I have to go see him, you know I have to. But you lay down, and as soon as he’s asleep I’ll come right back to you.” she said. Vincent whimpered pitifully and buried his face into her hair. She hugged him, rubbing his back comfortingly.

“Go on now, I’ll be back.” she said. Vincent clung onto her dress as she stood and it broke Mary’s heart to pull herself away from him and make her way to Bo’s room.

Bo sat in his armchair, already naked, hazy-eyed from the medicine. He patted his thigh wordlessly and Mary slid out of her dress, sitting on his lap hesitantly. He wrapped his arms around her, stroking her head where she had hit the door and kissing her forehead.

“I’m sorry.” he said quietly, forcing her to look at him.

“You know I don’t wanna have to hurt you, right? You know I love you, don’t you?” he asked, his tone so sweet and gentle.

“I know you don’t wanna hurt me. And I know you love me.” she said. He handled her roughly like she was a doll, forcing her to straddle him and lining up his cock with her entrance.

“You love me too don’t you?” he asked, looking up at her with innocent, pleading eyes.

“I love you, Bo.” she lied. He smirked and forced her down onto his cock, grabbing her so tight she felt like he could break her bones with his bare hands.

“Of course you do, and you love this cock don’t you?” he asked, forcing her up and down on him. Mary always felt like she was slipping far away when he did this to her, she was thinking of Vincent. His hand across her face snapped her out of it.

“Nope, you’re not going anywhere, you’re gonna look me in the eye and tell me how much you love me, how much you love gettin’ fucked by me understand?” he yelled. She grit her teeth, her breasts bouncing as he continued fucking her, but she complied. If not for her sake, for Vincent’s.

Bo always fell asleep quickly after and Mary left as quietly as she could, showering before she went back to Vincent. He was clinging on to consciousness at the edge of sleep, waiting for her. As soon as she got close enough he grabbed her and pulled her to him, holding onto her the way a child does to their favorite stuffed animal.

“I love you Vinny.” she said softly, stroking his hair the way his mother used to.

“I love you too.” he said, too tired to cry again, though he wanted to.

“I think you’re the only person left in the world who loves me.” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. Mary continued to stroke him as she started to sing, gentle lullabies from far away lands that always lead him to fields of flowers within his dreams.

#vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #bo sinclair #house of wax #mine #selfship #selfshipping #self ship #self shipping #f/o #herbalism is important to me irl and i love making tinctures soooo i make medicine for these poor boys #anyway this helped me cope with the bad feelings tonight.

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prairiesongserial · 5 years ago

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Windfield Pass 10

Agnes still needed to find a place to stay the night, and a warm meal, if there was one to be had, but she and Owl needed to see the mayor before any of that. Already, the day was darkening. When Agnes and Owl reached the mayor’s house - a squat little cottage with a prettier vegetable garden than its neighbors’ - the family had already sat down to dinner, or so the man at the door told them.

A holler from the dining room told the man to show them in, anyway. Agnes and Owl were led through the foyer and shown to the table.

The dining room was small, but fine - the table runner was lace, and the table beneath was sturdy, dark wood - this table hadn’t been made in Wyoming. The craftsmanship was too good. Mayor Willin himself was mid-sip from a glass of black-red wine. His wife, Charlotte, sat primly across from him, her shoulders straight as a board. Their adult son and his wife sat at the table, also. Curiously, the table had been set for six, almost as if Agnes and Owl had been expected.

“Forgive the interruption,” Agnes said. “I am more than happy to wait until after you’ve eaten, or come again tomorrow.”

“No, no, nonsense,” said the mayor. Wine dripped down his mustache, and he dabbed it with a lace-lined napkin. “Welcome, and please sit. Yves, please serve our guests.”

The man who had answered the door reappeared with a tea service and began to serve Agnes and Owl. Owl was jittery, more anxious now than she had been during the amputation of a man’s arm. She knelt on her seat instead of sitting properly, then sat cross-legged, then knelt again.

“Now, let us set the story straight,” said Mayor Willin when Yves had gone again. “Marge was here not an hour ago, and she had an interesting story to tell about the two of you, half of it a figment, I’m sure. She is a nervous woman. But then…” The mayor shifted in his seat, almost as if he were uncomfortable. His wife gave him a sharp look. “But then, something makes me wonder. See, Marge’s gossip doesn’t often have more than the barest kernel of truth, bless her. But then our esteemed hunters return from their excursion - days late. Half of them dead. One of them missing an arm, which I hear is your work, doctor.”

Agnes gave him the barest smile.

“And that made me wonder. You see, Dr. Hopper, we didn’t expect you back in Windfield until the summer. But you return here the very same day as our hunting party. You early, they late.”

The mayor idly tapped his spoon against his plate.

“Our hunters are good, honest men, risking life and limb to protect our town. And half of them died, Dr. Hopper. Now, we appreciate all you’ve done for our town, and I’m sure Benjamin Frisk thanks you for sawing off his arm in a public shop. But…” The mayor abruptly stopped tapping his spoon. “But the brave men who survived the mutie attack saw something very strange. The Weeper who bit out their fellows's throats was holding a walking stick.”

Agnes’s blood froze.

Yves returned to the dining room, leading two of the hunters Agnes had seen earlier that day. Without so much as a glance at her, one of the hunters snatched her cane from its spot propped against the table. He turned it over in his hands, testing the weight, then gave it to his compatriot.

“You will forgive me if I doubt your story about Pickton,” said the mayor. “Boys?”

“This is the cane,” the hunter said with undisguised disgust.

“And now, Agnes, please speak. Never let it be said that the mayor of Windfield denied a guest the opportunity to defend herself.”

Next to Agnes, Owl pushed her dinner around her plate. Her face was scrunched up with effort as she tried to keep up with the conversation.

“Here...is the truth,” said Agnes. “In Harehaven, a few days ago, a family approached me. They told me that a foundling had been left on the road - a normal child. Human. A practice that this town has some history with.” She set her teeth. “The Harehaven family didn’t have provisions for an extra child, not with winter so close at hand. The family asked me to take her away and find her a more respectable placement.”

The mayor harrumphed loudly, but gave no further interruption. Agnes continued.

“We were walking toward the pass when we were beset by muti...mutants. We ran south, and at some point your hounds crossed our trail. By the water.”

“But you kept running,” one of the hunters interrupted.

“With mutants that close at hand, so would you,” Agnes snapped. “We forded the river. We had lost all of our supplies, including my cane. The next day, or perhaps the day after, I found it, washed up on the shore. If a mutant happened to find it and drop it again, that is my good luck.”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” barked the hunter. “You, an old woman, with a child, in mutie country, with no food, soaking wet, manage to get from the south side of the Boysen to Windfield in, what, three days? It’s impossible. You didn’t take the pass. Marge has it that you met the schoolchildren on their way into town, meaning you came from the south-west, meaning you crossed the damn Wind River mountains - in three days - with nothing to eat - ”

Owl had looked scared when the hunter raised his voice, but now she raised her plate over her head and dumped the little game hen and leafy greens on the floor. She released the porcelain plate - expensive enough to be a family heirloom. Agnes lunged to catch it, but wasn’t quite fast enough. It shattered at the hunter’s feet.

“Owl - ” Agnes began.

“Harehavenkind can go more than three days without nothing to eat, uncle,” she said, fixing the hunter with a hateful stare. “And we don’t need glass plates neither.”

The room was silent. Agnes felt as scared as a cornered rabbit, unable to begin to think of an explanation or apology for Owl. Owl stood up on her chair, nose to nose with the hunter.

“I don’t want to live here. I want to go home.”

The mayor wiped his mouth with his napkin, and delicately set it aside.

“That’s enough of that,” he said, ignoring Owl. “Now, Dr. Hopper, I had hoped you would be more forthcoming, but I understand your reluctance. You have the safety of the child to consider. Here is what I think.”

The mayor waved for Yves to clear everyone’s plates, and he did, hesitating when he got to Owl’s place. He left with the used dishes and returned shortly with a broom.

“I think…” began the mayor, “that the child is a Harehaven mutant which you are moving like contraband. I think you did not wish to meet the hunting party by the Boysen River because you rightly feared the dogs would sniff her out as mutiekind. And I think that you know the location of the Weeper who killed so many of our bravest. And I think...that if you consider the safety of the child...you will help our hunters track her down.”

“Are you threatening Owl?” Agnes said, struggling to keep her voice even. “A child? A child who has nothing to do with…”

“What’s threatening?” Owl interjected, still standing on her chair defiantly.

“Contraband,” said the mayor easily.

“Agnes, what’s - ” Owl said, clearly agitated.

“I can’t help you,” Agnes growled, rising from her seat. “I don’t know where she is. Try the Boysen.”

“She led you through the mountains,” yelled one of the hunters.

“Agnes, what’s - ”

“Prove it,” Agnes shot back.

It was the wrong choice. In seconds they were tearing her pack apart, searching it for any evidence of Selkie. Agnes hadn’t thought she had anything to hide - but she hadn’t been careful, either. One of the hunters held up a lump of charcoal, examined it, and tossed it away. Sachets of herbs and bottles of tinctures piled up on the table, until finally the hunters found what they were looking for.

“What is that?” asked the mayor, gesturing for the object.

Agnes didn’t recognize it, either, at first. Something Selkie had slipped in her bag?

Agnes squeezed her eyes closed. It was the worst thing Selkie could have given her. The mayor held the hunting knife up to the light, but Agnes knew it wasn’t hers. Perhaps Selkie had thought it was, when she was gathering Agnes’s lost belongings after her encounter with the hunters. Or maybe she had just thought Agnes could use a knife.

“It’s Benjamin’s knife,” one of the hunters said. “She cut his fuckin’ arm off while his knife was in her backpack.”

“Forgive me...for taking what help I could find, no matter who it came from,” Agnes said carefully. “If you had faced the threat of death, you might have made the same choice.”

“Our men didn’t have the luxury,” the hunter sneered.

“Then forgive an old woman and child for living. We will leave, and you won’t have to be reminded of it anymore.” Agnes picked Owl up under the arms and held her. Owl was ready to leave, glaring at the other adults in the room. But the hunters hovered close.

The mayor cleared his throat.

“Given the circumstances,” he said, “I think it is more than fair that you guide our hunters to the mutie’s nest so they may exact reparations for their loss. We will forgive your contraband in exchange, though she must leave with you.”

“If I refuse?” Agnes said, heart pounding. She was spitting mad, but her only weapon was her head.

“We kill her.” The mayor daintily pointed the sheathed knife at Owl’s forehead. “It’s not my habit to kill the thinking kind, but nothing about this situation is typical, is it? I mean, the local doctor abetting muties? Facilitating murder? So you see why I’m willing to make an exception.”

Owl’s eyes flashed at the mayor. She wriggled out of Agnes’s arms, and Agnes was forced to drop her. Owl grabbed the broom out of Yves’s hands, who was too surprised to resist.

“What’s wrong with you?” Owl hollered at the mayor, leveling the handle at the broom at him like a sword. A child’s display of bravado, as if this were a pretend game. “That’s for skinning rabbits, and it’s sharp, so you have to be careful.”

The mayor lowered the knife to the table and smiled past Owl, as if she hadn’t said anything at all.

Agnes closed her eyes, gripping Owl’s shoulders hard. All around her, the hunters, the mayor, the mayor’s family - they all breathed with sordid anticipation. Either spectacle, Owl’s death or Selkie’s, would be enough for them. Choose, doctor. Choose which mutie dies. Didn’t that mean that neither of them had to die, if either would suffice?

When Agnes opened her eyes, the mayor had handed the knife to one of the hunters for safe-keeping.

“I’m old,” said Agnes, softly. “Why not…”

“We don’t kill normal folks,” piped up Charlotte. “We aren’t monsters.”

Silence circled the table. Finally, Agnes began to pack all her tinctures and herbs and vials back into her pack.

Windfield Pass 9 || Windfield Pass 11

#story

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msnpackaginginc · 2 years ago

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1CDB-GLASS CHILD RESISTANT DROPPER BOTTLES - 30ML - 1200

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azteccbd · 4 years ago

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The Health and Wellness Benefits of CBD Oil

CBD (Cannabidiol) is an extract of the cannabis or hemp plant. These are the plants that when they are dried make marijuana. CBD oil offers a full range of health and wellness benefits from helping relieve pain to reducing anxiety and improving appetite, while helping with insomnia. CBD does not have the psychoactive effects and is also showing great strides in treating epilepsy patients, helping to reduce the number of seizures they experience.

CBD, cannabidiol, is just one of the two chemicals of the cannabis plant and it's also the one that offers the most health and wellness benefits. The other is THC (tetrahyddrocannabinol) which is what gives the psychoactive effects. CBD contains minimal THC levels, usually less than 0.05%.

CBD oil is usually mixed with a carrier oil, high quality oils include hemp seed oil. Once bottled it is called a tincture, which comes in a host of strengths and suitable for placing under the tongue. Now what you may not realise is that on its own, CBD has a low affinity for the cannabiniod receptors in the brain, which THC naturally binds to, which is why you want some small traces of THC in the liquid to improve binding and ensure you achieve faster results.

It has been identified that CBD could potentially help with the treatment of anxiety disorders with studies showing that low doses of ten milligrams per kilogram per day were effective in reducing some anxiety. When the dose was increased, very little effect was experienced. This could be due to how CBD interacts with the brain when in low doses.

It is believed that CBD oil could also be effective in treating those with drug addictions. There has been a total of fourteen studies conducted on CBD and its effect on drug addiction, five of which were conducted on humans, where the CBD showed excellent promise in helping those with opioid, cocaine and psycho-stimulant addictions. The CBD worked differently with each type of drug addiction, where it proved effective in reducing drug seeking behaviours in cocaine addicts, but didn't show much effect on withdrawal symptoms without THC in opioid addicts, for example.

It's not uncommon for medical marijuana to be prescribed for those with treatment resistant pain, along with those suffering from terminal cancers. Animal studies have shown that rats with inflammatory chemicals in their back feet reduced their inflammation and pain when treated with CBD. CBD potentially reduces nerve pain.

CBD oil has the potential to reduce the risk of heart disease, but lowering high blood pressure in some patients. This is not effective on all patients, but those that were studied with six hundred milligrams of CBD has a reduced blood pressure when exposed to stressful stimuli. This included reducing the amount of blood in the heart after a heartbeat, which reduces the risk of stroke.

There has been exhaustive research into using CBD oil on epilepsy patents in order to reduce the number of seizures or the intensity of the seizures. It is already being used for rare forms of epilepsy, known as Dravet syndrome and Lennox-Gastaut syndrome, both begin in a child’s first twelve months.

While most people using CBD oil don't experience any unwelcome side effects, there are some side effects you may experience including a change in appetite and mood, dizziness, drowsiness and anxiety. You may experience nausea and vomiting. Most side effects are associated with taking a dose that is too high.

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everyday-life-products-reviews · 4 years ago

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pkgco · 4 days ago

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What is Skincare PCR Packaging

The skin care industry is undergoing a green revolution, with Post-Consumer Recycled (PCR) packaging leading the way. This sustainable solution allows skincare brands to reduce their environmental footprint while meeting the growing demand for eco-conscious products. Here’s why PCR packaging is making waves:

What is PCR Packaging?

PCR packaging uses plastics that have already been used and recycled by consumers. Rather than relying on new, virgin plastic, brands repurpose post-consumer materials, giving them a second life. This process helps reduce waste and the need for new plastic production.

Why is PCR Important for Skincare Brands?

Consumers gravitate toward brands that take environmental responsibility seriously in an age where sustainability is a priority. By adopting PCR packaging, skincare companies can align with these values, reducing plastic pollution while boosting their brand image. Additionally, governments are introducing stricter regulations on plastic use, making PCR packaging an essential move for businesses aiming to stay compliant.

The Long-Term Benefits

While transitioning to PCR packaging might come with a higher initial cost, the long-term benefits are clear: reduced waste, enhanced brand loyalty, and future-proofed operations. As the demand for eco-friendly options grows, switching to PCR is a smart investment for both the planet and the bottom line.

#Child Resistant Tincture Bottles #Food Grade Tins #PCR Packaging for Skincare

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marijuananewsonline · 4 years ago

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4 Common Mistakes While Choosing Your Tinctures Packaging

The tinctures packaging is very important for all industries if the makers want to stand their brand on high levels they have to put effort into the packaging site. Like in any other industry CBD has to work a lot on the revolution for its products. The time has passed when product quality mattered, now the makers of any items are equally handling the product and packaging quality. The competition level is so high, there is no chance that you make a mistake in packaging and it does not affect your brand name.

Attractive labels are very essential for CBD goods. Especially for Droppers & Tincture Packaging. But there are many other problems you have to tackle while you are selecting your packaging style and materials. These things matter a lot that they can affect your brand name and your product value. Some points you have to understand before your packaging for tincture.

Choose packaging which can promote your brand

Protect your products

Don’t over budget your packaging

Tinctures makers are putting lots of effort into design and packaging for their tinctures products. But many tinctures producers and doing some common mistakes, which is not good because customers can prefer other products over yours. Pack well your Droppers & Tincture Packaging and get good results.

Some mini mistakes can put great effects on your tincture in the market. If you can avoid this mistake you can do well with your tinctures packaging.

PACKAGING SIZE

The first mistake the makers are doing nowadays is the perfect sizing, how can you find a good number in selling when your size is not impressing the costumers. A wrong packaging size can disappoint your buyers that the producers not giving a proper size then how can they give quality in the product. Most of the brands choose one size for all types of items just to save a little amount of money. But this can destroy their brand.

For example, you are the producer of CBD goods like Oils, Tinctures, and Droppers then how can you choose the same size for all packaging. Tinctures are different from all items the bottle style is different the colors are used differently when tinctures come in bottles, most of the dark colors used for bottles. So always choose the packaging in which the product attracts the customers. And your boxes size must fit for your tincture bottles. Other than your product will move around in the packaging box, which can damage your item.

Choose your cbd packaging on its dimensions. This mistake seems nothing but it can be the reason that can consequence your brand name.

EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT

If you want to capture the tincture market, then you have to connect your customer’s emotions. Customers are the people who give money to make your brand a name of quality. Both of you do not know each other, but there is a bond between makers and the buyers, and the two are connected through packaging. If you complete our requirements and mention the on the tincture boxes which they can understand easily they can trust in your brand. Make your packing design effective and give all the necessary information on tincture packaging you can build a good relationship with the buyers. With a complete packaging style, you can offer them a discount and gift that can attract customers to come and get their tinctures box which can help them to remain healthy and fit.

ATTRACTIVE PACKAGING

Tinctures are now using to cure many medical problems. It has proven through research that it is helpful in the treatment of the patient. So these item needs to be measured properly, you have concrete when you are filling the container of tinctures bottles. As all know the patient emotionally broken people. If you pack your tinctures bottles eye-appealing then the patient will feel fresh when he or she wants to use the tincture.

If you give your packaging a perfect look then it can attract people that they get it from shelves and online stores. You can get help from the people if you held a public survey on social media.

CHILD RESISTANCE

After passing out the bile about child resistance the company and the brands must follow the step when they are packing their products. This is all because can stop children from swallowing dangerous items. After the child protection bill, cannabis has to be careful about packaging. The tincture packaging needs more focus because of alcohol.

The packaging has to be child-resistant but also the tincture packaging must make it difficult for the children that they could not open it easily.

Packaging which has mistaken can come with many disadvantages that can affect your product sales. Remove these mistakes if you are also doing these. And make your tinctures profitable for all.

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4 Common Mistakes While Choosing Your Tinctures Packaging was originally published on Marijuana News Online | Cannabis News For The 420 Community

#cbd oil boxes #cbd packaging #tinctures packaging

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hempgreenhk · 4 years ago

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wyrdsistersofthedas · 7 years ago

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Taint Resistance in a Bottle - Random Thought Blogs: The Blighted Entries 2

Totally just a random exercise in speculation this week after reading some very interesting ideas about whether the taint could be spread from Grey Wardens to their LIs or to those healing them. I highly recommend reading the excellent thoughts and evidence presented by the OP, @altalemur , @rederiswrites and @higheverrains. My thoughts took a tangent, of course, that eventually circled back to become this post.

I think there is a fairly simple, albeit probably magical, answer to the question. Whatever gives the Grey Wardens their resistance to the taint makes it nigh impossible for them to pass the taint on to others. Even with prolonged exposure to a warden’s body, like during a rare warden pregnancy, the warden is not contagious, including to the child. In fact, we know that Morrigan had to go to extreme, probably blood magicky, means to have a baby with the taint. Wardens just don’t pass it on. Examples:

If Morrigan is involved with a male warden who refuses to do the Dark Ritual, she still gets pregnant with a taint-free Kieran (which implies there must be some consent on the part of the warden in order for the ritual to work).

Side note: The fact that Morrigan could have a baby with the warden without the Dark Ritual implies that the ritual had nothing to do with increasing her fertility. The ritual was purely to pass the taint on to their child or create a connection with the archdemon. Ergo, Morrigan probably was using other means (again likely magical) to ensure she became pregnant.

Fiona gives birth to Alistair, taint free.

Side note: Fiona had been a warden for about a year when she became pregnant. Same thing happens with Morrigan, if you do the Dark Ritual or the warden is romantically involved with her. This suggests that a warden’s best chance at having children is during a 18-24 months window right after the Joining.

When griffons were forced to undergo a modified Joining ritual, they are completely unable to develop the Grey Wardens’ resistance to the taint. This leads to their (near) extinction because they can infect each other with the taint, unlike wardens.

I suspect that when the first Grey Wardens discovered how to do the Joining, they also figured out a way to magically block, or resist, the taint...at least for a while. If this theory is true, it would also give another reason for the Calling. If the Grey Wardens eventually lose all their resistance they would become no different than a ghoul, who can and do spread the taint to others.

“There are stories across Ferelden of these ghouls, maddened by the corruption of the blight, attacking their friends and spreading the corruption further. While it is likely that the sickness will eventually kill a ghoul, the dying strength of these poor creatures makes them nearly as great a danger as the darkspawn themselves.

They are no longer our friends, our family, or our countrymen. They are victims of the Blight, and must be given the same mercy Hessarian showed Andraste: a swift sword.”

It stands to reason that Grey Wardens who completely lose their resistance would then pass on the taint like other infected beings. (I wonder if the Architect’s accelerated ghoul program, which he used on Bregan, Genevieve, and Utha, allowed them to keep their resistance longer. Utha seemed pretty lucid in Awakening. I wonder if the Architect gave Seranni some form of the resistance too.)

A warden’s resistance to the taint is so powerful, in fact, that it literally blocks the song of the old gods in darkspawn. The Architect needed the blood of wardens to free the darkspawn of their compulsion, or rather their resistance to the taint.

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So yeah, that resistance that Grey Wardens have to the taint is probably what prevents them from spreading it to their companions. Now the next question should be...what gives Grey Wardens that resistance? Like I said before, I think part of the resistance is part of the magic of the Joining Ritual, but that doesn’t explain why some can survive the Joining and other die. What makes a Grey Warden able to survive the Joining and develop that resistance to the taint? Is it some innate quality or biologic feature in the warden themselves? Or is it an outside force or aid?

Leliana seems to have a natural resistance to the taint. Maric is able to resist via potions concocted from “rare herbs” and, possibly, his dragon flavored blood. There are also suggestions that a person’s willpower can affect their level of resistance. Former lead writer and ex “word of god”, David Gaider, said:

“Insofar as how long a Grey Warden could remain on the throne, it depends. The taint will make a Grey Warden age faster, so someone like Loghain isn't going to be able to stay a Grey Warden for very long as he's no young man. The "thirty years" quote is about the maximum, but the reality is that it depends on how often one is exposed to the corruption and sometimes just personal variance-- even so, for a monarch to stay on the throne upwards of thirty years is no mean feat. I don't really think that's the limiting factor when it comes to this sort of thing.” (Bioware Forums, I miss your information if not the sea of negativity. More interesting taint related info here.)

Another quote:

“But the idea is also that it varies. Thirty years is the maximum that you could probably expect. It's going to vary for an individual according to their willpower and the level of their interaction with the darkspawn. During a Blight you can expect that the Grey Wardens are going to have shorter lifespans. Outside of a Blight the Grey Wardens would tend to live longer. We have instances in the game of people going on their Calling after five or ten years. Alistair's thirty year quote shouldn't be taken as gospel, that's the way I like it.” (Interview with Gaider, posted on Swooping is Bad LJ)

I’m going to have to investigate this further, but I am pretty sure the level of resistance in each warden varies and can be affected by several factors.

Taint Resistance in a Bottle?

“King Maric was given a leather satchel full of potions, each of them contained in a delicate glass vial. According to the First Enchanter, this was a precious mixture of herbs that would enable Maric to resist the disease spread by the darkspawn. He was, after all, the only one in the group without the Grey Warden’s immunity. One full vial was to be swallowed each morning; according to Duncan’s count, that meant the King had a two-week supply.

Rather optimistic of the First Enchanter, really.” (The Calling, p. 71)

I’m very curious about the “rare herbs” mentions in The Calling and in the Joining ritual description. I suspect that Marethari used a variation of the potion Maric took to keep Mahariel alive long enough to take the Joining. The fact that none of our companions were tainted while killing the oodles of darkspawn in Origins would make a lot more sense if we had to make potions to help them keep their resistance up. And here is the section of total speculation that began this whole post:

What could those “rare” herbs be? (Possible ingredients list lies below the cut.)

(I mean, this could be critical information for those of us that like to write fanfiction and don’t want to totally hand wave encounters with the darkspawn by saying, “Once again, we’ve all managed to not get tainted in spite of all the people around us who are totally tainted now because darkspawn!”)

The Wilds Flower: (rare-ish) Given that it these flowers can help a mabari suffering from the taint, it stands to reason it can help a human build their resistance. This flower would be available to the Dalish and was known to the kennel master at Ostagar, so it would very likely be included in the tincture. It can be found in the swamps of the Korcari Wilds.

Embrium: (common) This flower is often used in healing mists and potions, and to enhance regeneration. Sounds like qualities that could help combat the taint. It is commonly found in the regions around the Waking Sea.

Spindleweed: (common) A common ingredient in resistance potions, it stands to reason that a taint blocker would include this herb. It can be found in the valleys on either side of the Frostback Mountains.

Dragonthorn: (rare-ish) The leaves of the dragonthorn tree “enhance and stabilize other, more volatile magical compounds”, a helpful trait for a potion that combats one of the most virulent diseases in Thedas. It also is used in spirit resistance tonics. It can be found in the Forbidden Oasis and the Wellspring, but sample could theoretically be obtained from one of the Circles of Magi, the Wonders of Thedas or other merchants of medicinal/magical ingredients.

Vandal Aria: (common) Cousin of the Silent Plains rose, this plant can be used to craft healing potions and a rock armor tonic. This plant can grows in dry climates, like the Western Approach and the Hissing Wastes, but can be purchased from most medicinal merchants.

Deep Mushroom: (common) The right varieties of deep mushroom can restore stamina and help heal injuries. “The most common varieties used in the herbalist's trade are the Blightcap, Ghoul's Mushroom, and Brimstone Mushroom, almost all of which tend to carry the darkspawn's corruption. While they cannot transmit the disease, this trait often makes them quite poisonous.” Clearly, deep mushrooms are taint resistant themselves, but choosing the right variety and careful preparation would be needed in order to harness their beneficial properties and avoid accidental poisonings. Various varieties of deep mushrooms can be found in caves and in the Deep Roads.

Concentrator Agent: (common) Composed of distilled and purified Heatherum and Foxite, which are both common herbs in Ferelden, a concentrator agent would enhance the effects of a taint resisting potion.

Lifestone: (rare) Although lifestone is a rock, not an herb, it would a powerful ingredient to add to a taint repelling recipe. It can only be found in proximity to lyrium veins in the Deep Roads and likely was affected by it. “Lifestones enhance the natural properties of other materials used in item creation.”

Felicidus Aria: (near extinction, extremely rare) “Commonly known as the Silent Plains Rose” this flower is the only plant that can grow in Blighted lands. This implies that it has an extreme natural resistance to the taint. It would be nearly impossible to find and extraordinarily expensive, but it could be a powerful component in an taint eliminating elixir. Hawke has some (if you do Isabela’s quest). It could also be stolen from very rich nobles.

High Dragon Blood [living preferred]: (Rare. Super rare if the dragon was still alive! Damn near one of a kind, if the dragon was a great dragon. Be prepared for weird grand kids with that last one though! ;-} ) Dragons are, perhaps, the most naturally taint resistant creatures in Thedas and their blood might convey some of their power. Known side effects: Reaver-itis and scaly skin if too much is consumed. You might have to make friends with a dragon worshiping cult to get the blood of a living dragon, btw.

Magic also seems to be necessary in the alchemic process to create taint resistance tonics, so a knowledgeable mage healer would likely be required to make the concoction work. An experienced Grey Warden mage would likely be an ideal brewer and, according to the RPG, the Grey Wardens are aware of the existence of these herbs (or whatever they turn out to be), and have helped spread this knowledge across Thedas. Perhaps it was even the Grey Wardens at Ostagar who told the Kennel Master about the Wilds Flower.

And there you have it! My random thoughts collected in a slightly less random post.

Drink in good health!

-MM

#dragon age #dragon age awakening #dragon age the calling #dragon age meta #grey wardens #blight #taint #the architect #taint cure #thedas medicine #thedas magic #morta's musings #long post

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tipsycad147 · 5 years ago

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How to Make Easy Herbal Oils, Salves, and Syrups

by Crooked Bear Creek Organic Herbs

Soothe injuries and boost your immune system with these simple, plant-based recipes for trauma oil, Saint John’s wort oil, black elderberry syrup, herbal lip balm, and more.

How to Make Infused Herbal Oils

Herbal oils are convenient and easy to use. These are made by extracting ground-up herbs with organic olive oil. You can apply this herb-laden oil directly to your skin, where it will exert its healing influence through absorption, or you can use the oil as a base for making a salve or lip balm. Infused oils aren’t the same as essential oils, which are composed of concentrated, steam-distilled volatile oils of a plant. Infused herbal oils may be made from dried arnica flowers, bergamot leaves, and flowers, calendula flowers, cayenne peppers, cannabis leaves and flowers, chickweed leaves and flowers, comfrey leaves, ginger roots, helichrysum flowers, mullein leaves, turmeric roots, and virtually any herb containing essential oils (such as rosemary, thyme, and lavender). All will extract well in warm oil.

Fresh garlic cloves, cottonwood buds, elderberry leaves, horse chestnut buds, mullein flowers, and especially flowering Saint John’s wort also extract very nicely in warm olive oil.

To make Saint John’s wort oil, grind fresh Saint John’s wort flowers and leaves into a mash and add 1 part of this fresh herb mash to 3 parts olive oil. Stir thoroughly, and then pour the mass into a gallon jar, capped with cheesecloth held in place with a rubber band. (The cheesecloth will allow excess moisture to escape.) Set the jar in the sun for 2 weeks, stirring daily. The oil will eventually take on the ruby-red colour of its active constituent, hypericin. After 2 weeks, squeeze the contents through 4 layers of cheesecloth into a clean bowl, pour the oil into a clean gallon jar, and allow it to settle overnight. Then, excluding the watery sludge, pour the bright-red oil into clean containers for storage, and use as needed.

To make an infused oil of dried herbs, first, grind the herbs to a medium-fine consistency. In a crockpot, stainless steel pan, or gallon jar, combine 1 part herbs with 5 parts organic olive oil (for 1 ounce of herb, use 5 ounces of oil). Or, simply put the dried herbs into the vessel and add sufficient olive oil to make a thick mash that you can just stir with a spoon. Stir daily to encourage extraction, and keep the oil very warm (110 to 120 degrees Fahrenheit). Some folks set the macerating oil close to a wood stove or in the sun to stay warm. In any case, never heat the oil directly on a stovetop — temperatures in excess of 150 degrees will denature the oil. After 1 week, pour the warm mass through 4 layers of cheesecloth draped over a bowl. Lift the corners, gather them together, and squeeze and squeeze, allowing the clear oil to flow into the bowl. Alternatively, you can use a tincture press, which is certainly more efficient. Collect the infused oil in a jar and allow it to settle overnight. Then, being careful to exclude the sludge that will have formed on the bottom of the jar, pour off the clear oil into amber glass jars for storage. Store in a cool, dark place. The shelf life of infused herbal oils is 1 year.

How to Make Herbal Salves and Balms

Homemade salves and lip balms call for beeswax and oil, which mix only if heated to 150 degrees. You won’t need to use a thermometer; simply pour an infused oil into a heat-resistant glass beaker, set it into a saucepan half-filled with water, and bring the water bath to a gentle simmer on the stovetop.

To make a soft salve, use 0.6 ounces of wax for every cup of oil. Grate the beeswax with a cheese grater, mix the grated wax into the oil, and gently heat the mixture until the beeswax melts, stirring constantly with a chopstick or wooden spoon. After the wax incorporates perfectly into the oil, immediately remove it from the heat and pour the liquid salve into suitable containers. It will harden as it cools.

Lip balm is made in the same way, except you’ll need to increase the concentration of beeswax to 2 ounces of wax for every 1 cup of oil. This will make a harder product that won’t melt in your pocket or purse, but will still protect and heal chapped lips. You can use the infused oil of calendula flowers or chickweed to make a very pleasant lip balm. For additional flavor, per 1 cup of lip balm, stir in 1 drop of mint essential oil, 3 drops of vanilla extract, or both.

To make lip balm, first, make herbal oil by combining equal parts dried chickweed leaves or flowers and dried calendula flowers (follow my earlier instructions for making infused herbal oils). Combine 1 cup of this oil with 2 ounces of beeswax. Stirring constantly, gently heat the oil/beeswax mixture in a hot water bath until the beeswax melts. Pour the liquid lip balm into small, flat salve containers or empty lip-balm dispensers — this recipe will yield eleven 1-ounce tins. As it cools, it will harden.

While some balms are suited to everyday use, occasionally you’ll need a stronger salve for soothing specific ailments. Trauma oil is traditionally made by combining the infused oils of 3 powerful herbs: calendula, arnica, and Saint John’s wort. You can make the oils separately and then combine them in equal parts to make the trauma oil. Heat the oil and mix with beeswax to make trauma salve, and then store the mixture in a flat tin. To use, rub the salve as needed into an afflicted area. I’ve seen this remedy used as-is to reduce inflammation and pain in a swollen finger, a twisted ankle, and an inflamed tendon.

Healing Herbal Syrups and Teas

Herbal syrups are among the most universally accepted ways to ingest herbs. I find them to be particularly well-suited for children, who may disagree with the strange and bitter tastes of many herbs but actually look forward to their daily spoonful of syrup. Syrups may be administered by the loving hand of a parent who has the foresight to fortify their child against common colds and flu.

Black elderberry syrup packs a powerful immune-enhancing punch. To reconstitute dried berries, simply cover them with boiling water in a jar overnight and allow them to plump up. To make syrup from reconstituted dried berries or from fresh berries, place the berries in a saucepan with a little water and set on low heat. Stirring frequently, cook until the berries are thoroughly softened, and then remove from the heat and allow them to cool enough to be handled. Press out the juice in a tincture press or through a large sieve, thereby excluding the skins and seeds. Return the clear purple juice to the saucepan and set on low heat, stirring frequently. Reduce to 1⁄4 the original volume, producing a very thick product. This will take about 1 hour. Measure the liquid, and then add an equal volume of vegetable glycerine or honey. Pour into 4-ounce amber dropper bottles or small jars. A child’s dose is 1 teaspoon up to 3 times per day. An adult dose is 1 tablespoon up to 3 times per day.

A decoction is a concentrated herbal tea, often used to extract the essence of roots, barks, and seeds that don’t readily relinquish their properties in a simple tea. Strong decoctions are double-strength and may easily be made into herbal syrup. Combine 1 part strong decoction with 2 parts vegetable glycerine or honey. Stir until thoroughly incorporated, and then store in 4-ounce amber dropper bottles or small jars. The shelf life of syrups made in this manner is about 6 months and may be extended by refrigerating the syrup. If mould appears on the surface, discard.

To make, use 2 handfuls (about 2 ounces) of sliced or coarsely ground herbs in 4 cups of water. Combine in a stainless steel saucepan, cover, and leave overnight to soak. In the morning, stir the contents with a wooden spoon and heat on a low burner, simmering for 15 minutes. Then, strain out the root pieces and return the liquid to the stovetop. Stirring frequently, reduce the volume by half.

Many kinds of roots, barks, and seeds can be made into strong decoctions and then combined with honey or glycerine to produce herbal syrups or cough syrup. Astragalus roots, cascara sagrada bark, elecampane roots, hawthorn berries, motherwort herb, turkey rhubarb roots, self-heal flowers, spikenard roots, yellow dock roots, violet flowers, liquorice roots, and fennel seeds all make good herbal syrups.

Goddess Bless! GrannyMoon

★☽✪☾★ http://GoddessSchool.com https://twitter.com/GrannyMooninVA https://grannymoon.wordpress.com/

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ssapkal-blog · 6 years ago

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Global Medical Marijuana Packaging Market

Global Medical Marijuana Packaging Market was valued at US$ 15.1 Bn in 2018 and is expected to reach US$ 41.7 Bn by 2026, at a CAGR of 13.54% during a forecast period.

The objective of the report is to present a comprehensive assessment of the market and contains thoughtful insights, facts, historical data, industry-validated market data and projections with a suitable set of assumptions and methodology. The report also helps in understanding Medical Marijuana Packaging Market dynamics, structure by identifying and analyzing the market segments and project the global market size. Further, the report also focuses on the competitive analysis of key players by product, price, financial position, product portfolio, growth strategies, and regional presence. The report also provides PEST analysis, PORTER’s analysis, SWOT analysis to address the question of shareholders to prioritizing the efforts and investment in the near future to the emerging segment in Medical Marijuana Packaging Market. Based on packaging type, flower packaging segment is expected to hold the largest share in the global medical marijuana packaging market, as it usually consists of pop tops and glass jars apart from being tamper-free and child-resistant. On the basis of mode, vials segment is expected to hold the largest share in the global medical marijuana packaging market in the forecast period owing rising strict regulations regarding packaging such as medical marijuana packaging should be done in a child-resistant manner.

The rise in extensive product usage as they are child-resistant in nature. Global medical marijuana packaging market is witnessing vibrant growth as huge demand for medical marijuana for medical and therapeutic treatments and operations across the globe. Growing investments in R&D to discover safer forms of ingesting marijuana, such as oils and tinctures, which is estimated to drive the global medical marijuana packaging market growth during the forecast period. Increased demand for the recyclable packaging solutions among consumers across the globe as rising concerns regarding the environment, which is expected to fuel the market growth during the forecast period. The presence of various regulatory bodies and institutions for policy formulations, such as the Medical Marijuana Regulation and Safety Act, which is expected to boom the global medical marijuana packaging market growth in a positive way. Growing demand for holistic solutions across the globe is propelling the global medical marijuana packaging market growth in a positive way. However, the government’s time-consuming approval process, which is estimated to hamper the global medical marijuana packaging market in the forecast period. In terms of region, North America is expected to hold the largest share in the global medical marijuana packaging market during the forecast period.

The US is expected to drive the global medical marijuana packaging market growth in the forecast period owing to increasing acceptance of medical marijuana in this country. The Asia Pacific is expected to generate the highest CAGR in the global medical marijuana packaging market during the forecast period as the increasing use of marijuana in treating various mental illnesses.

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Scope of the Report Medical Marijuana Packaging Market

Global Medical Marijuana Packaging Market, by Packaging Type • Flower Packaging • Concentrate Packaging • Edible Packaging Global Medical Marijuana Packaging Market, by Mode • Jars • Bottles • Vials • Tubes • Wrappers • Concentrate Containers • Custom Packaging Global Medical Marijuana Packaging Market, by Region • North America • Europe • Asia Pacific • Middle East & Africa • South America Key Players Operating in Global Medical Marijuana Packaging Market • Great Pacific Packaging, Inc. • Brandsy Cannabis Creative • Dixie Elixirs & Edibles • Cannaline • Inkable Label • Second Nature Agency • The Green Cross collective • Elevate Packaging • Blazin Bottles • Honest Marijuana Co. • Elevate Packaging • McKernan Packaging Clearing House • Great Pacific Packaging, Inc. • Shatter Labels • Shenzhen (HK) Alfinity Technology Co., Ltd. • Kush Bottles • CannaPack • High Supply • Marijuana Packaging

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#Medical Marijuana Packaging Market

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sonofhistory · 8 years ago

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Someone asked me to describe home,

Alexander Hamilton once had a home. Alexander once had a home in another’s arms. He once had a home on the right side of a cot in an icy cabin amidst a war. He once had a home with his lover’s soft breath on the back of his neck, careful wrists around his stomach for discreet touches. For a four year period of time, Alexander Hamilton had a home in a man with a three syllable name and a fire branded into his spirit. In a way, he wished he could forget the months of suffering he’d endured at Valley Forge. A playful youth, wisps of auburn red hair curling out from beneath his braid, his lover threading their gentle fingers through the strands and soothing his aching soul.

As a child, he concluded that his home was with his family. His father left, his mother passed and that glowing light that seeped from the end of the tunnel grew brighter- beckoning him, even as he was separated from his older brother James. Alexander Hamilton not once had a home. Even Eliza’s comforting arms around his shoulder, her sugary sweet voice in his ear- begging him to bed. For that moment, those arms were his and he’d lean his head back to capture the taste of his cracked and dying lips to repay for not giving him a last. But they were never his, and instead Eliza’s creamy pressures took his place.

Eliza was a goddess wrapped in a mortal's body, and his past beau was the earth- holding down his feet in iron fists. But Eliza was only in his cage and every petty little thing led back to his man. In the spaces of his brain he recollected when her hands slid across his shoulders- taking the place of his touches and his silent glances. Eliza was not him. Eliza would never be him. Her large dark doe optics glancing up at him as if he guarded the world in his palm with reliance- her gaze could never restore his. His were so glittering, his were so pure. When Alexander studied the tides reverberate around the harbor, in those crashing waves of marine and silver- Alexander saw his scrutiny. He was forced to stumble away as tears began to brim the rims of his lids.

There was naught Alexander craved more in the world to have to peer up into his lovers visage because they were much taller than he was, he dreamed of calloused hands across the rip of his chest and yearned for the thrill of indecency. More than twice Alexander would slap a hand across his infatuates mouth, teasing a finger of silence across the line of his lips. Because Eliza was so sweet, and there was not anything of deprivation or desire or lust in their relationship. It was the idea that Alexander needed him, and they demanded him too. There was not one being in the galaxy that had made Alexander so complete- in his benevolence and the caverns of his soul- an empty place. It was replaced when his lover caught his wrist one night and twisted him up into a gut wrenching kiss. No alcohol brewing on either tongues or disgust written in.

The tips of Alexander’s fingers turning frost bitten next to the fading fire, his lover’s boiling breath cupping his appendages and padding his fingertips across the wrap and cravat of his neck- untying it and tossing it aside before digging into the dip of his breeches. Heavy breathing and for the second- they weren’t so cold anymore. They could forget about the blood underneath their fingertips, they could forget about the growl in the pit of their stomach, they could forget anything but each other.

Because for four years, Alexander Hamilton found home in a man named John Laurens.

But, John Laurens was gone.

And Alexander, was still here.

And I started talking about your hair color

It was just light brown. But there was not a single “just” about it. It was John’s and John’s only. Lots of people had muddy hair- but nobody had hair like John. John Laurens had hair that Alexander lay and twisted his fingers in it all night. Threading and re ringleting again the strands into to separate organizations and paths. Alexander could never sleep, too involved in beaming at the way that John’s chest hovered every few seconds before lowering and steadily inhaling in again. A miniature circle of life happening right before his sight.

Alexander chose to not fall asleep. In the chance that was too exhausted and was forced to shut his eyes- he always woke up with screams reverberating out of his throat. John would pin his shoulder down and force him awake as he flailed around wildly throwing fists, punches to the air. He’d sob resonantly, tears glistening his eyes and trailing silhouettes down his cheeks, John wouldn’t speak in this episode and would wrap his arms around his torso, humming comfortingly in his ear till he had fallen asleep again. Alexander ripped on his hair, a vigorous detail and marking embrace. In the morning they’d both wake, and when John winced while slipping his uniform over his arms- Alexander noticed the scratch marks he’d made in his frenzy.

Maybe there was the perfect, almost mesmerizing way that his hair strung in front of his eyes. Like thicket of vines and ivy pines. It was never tucked behind his ears- classic as a required braid twisted down his spine. At the end of the day, Alexander tugged the crimson ribbon from John’s hair, hypnotized by the way it cascaded down his spine and flatten against his collarbone. When his shirt was slung to the ground, Alexander tamely pressed his fingertips against the line of purple bruises crescendoing across his neck like a string of amethyst pearls.

Not ever a hair out of place, and they wavered in the wind, catching and flowing down his rear majestically. John Laurens’s hair was his roof, the topping foundation to the brigade. For John didn’t mind when Alexander caressed his bloody fingers through his scalp or used his cracked fingernails to brush the flowing shower. Alexander would narrow his focus through the somber of his New York bedroom, vigilant up with guided hope in his chest on the occasion that he would find Eliza fast asleep at his right side. For a glimmer of dependence, he thought it was John. But John’s hair wasn’t so dark, and Eliza’s didn’t gleam in the candlelight like John’s did. It was then he’d realize,

John Laurens was gone,

And Alexander was still here.

And the sound of your voice,

John’s voice was a metaphor. Honey melting and stirring into a temperate cup of tea- he can’t see nectar with John. His voice was a waterfall, flowing in his ears. Miracles only happen in fairy tales, to Alexander- John was a fairy tale written perfectly for himself. A miracle in his creation. On the dusks he’d spring awake from his nightmares, the water filling his lungs from the hurricane or John’s fallen body in his arms he’d arose to John’s biceps around his waist, his head curled flawlessly into the L shape of his neck. His lover’s pleasant hum echoing in the war shell of his ear. The notes of the song meeting together like such stainless, melodic, puzzle pieces. John’s voice was Alexander’s song.

He’d never consign to oblivion John’s rugged stubble on the back of his neck, or the calmly gasp on his cheek. Alexander always reminisced what they talked about on those bitter windy gloom, with frost slicking the windows. Alexander just listened to the sound of his speech, and in turn listened to his lover listening to him. It was the sound of his harmony that didn't go right through him, stuffing up his lungs and dragging him down to drown. John’s vocals caused him to float, and the pearling sea of navy swirls captured beneath his feet.

His voice made him soar, piercing through the sky, senses heightened high, grating at his skin, for every little word, scraping down like sin, liquor on his tongue, bottle from within. The only music Alexander willed to hear was John’s in his ear, whispering how much he loved him. For Alexander, every rhyme looks the alike, but does not sound the same, every, “hello” that he spoke choraled like, “Come here”. Intimacy coloring his lyrics, taking all his words- Alexander would string them in the heavens.

They deserved that.

And the taste of your lips,

John tasted like melted gold. When Alexander tasted his lips, the collided stars bursted in his cranium, allowing him to see all the tincture he’d never seen- John was not just one shade, he was every last one. Their consolidation was like liquor and the separation, an after wash of burning rough liquor resting on his tongue. The needy sensation of craving to relish John Laurens’s rough, flaking lips on his own. In the cracks of his skin, Alexander could lick the blood and the biting. He’d catch John teething at the inner flesh of his cheek in a irritable bought. His lover would trace his touch across the tips of Alexander’s nails in contrast to own terrifying habits.

“Now, what made you bite them this time, Alex?”.

He’d never answer and chose simply. Falling in love with the way their hands felt intertwined together. When Alexander tasted his lips, he realized how much he’d been starving. Deprivation waving the pitting catacomb of his abdomen. He got John’s appetite in his jaw and Alexander dismissed that he was starving or that the moldy bread he’d ingested the day before simply hadn’t been enough. John satisfied his lust, John fed his soul.

John tasted like satisfaction, pressed into a wine and as it passed his lips- he was impossible to resist. Alexander tasted the passion in colors shining bright, Alexander sensed the panic hidden beneath his eyes, Alexander tasted lust, written idols in the sky. It was magical how John put his anxieties to rest, in the flickering flame of the candle translucent in the night, he dove into his eyes, starved all of his fears and tasted all his dreams he kept coiled beneath his bones.

Because after just one taste of his love, Alexander realized that he had been deprived his entire life.

how your eyes seem on my back,

There was not just one location. Alexander Hamilton found references and subtle innuendos to everything John Laurens without even searching. John’s were a brilliant teal, inside he found ice from snowy mountains and elevations so steep, he saw castles building in the sky, sloshing salty sea waves crashing and rolling in, gentle tender tides. Every royal he saw was John Laurens’s eyes and every sunset in the heavens was flame to the fire of his regret.

He should of stayed and fought, instead of cowered away in fright.

He should've been by his side when he died.

He should've made sure that the last things those beautiful blue eyes saw were his own gleaming down in resurrection.

He should of touched his hand to his lovers cheek and kissed him goodbye.

But he did not.

And Alexander Hamilton would never know that last thing that John Laurens’s eyes ever saw.

What was the last thing his wandered brain thought as he riveted up at the sky?

He was desperate to justify John Laurens’s eyes, but to reveal his eyes you had to resolve the man himself. Because hidden behind his eyes, there was a man. A man more than his physical capabilities. To Alexander, John Laurens was more than just a man. Alexander constructed words for John when he had none, and John discovered the colors, when Alexander’s eyes blinded him. In the waves sloshing in his optics, Alexander slipped beneath the waves and was lost.

Could he never be found?

Alexander died the day that John Laurens passed, for he was still stuck in John’s eyes- and those were shut fast. His beautiful gaze tended a break from the wondrous sight of love. He marked into his eyes and saw starry moonless nights, and knew that he was home. His eyes weren't just blue, Alexander studied them- sometimes they chuckled, and sometimes they cried, but they always had power to console what was right. He saw every hue of life, a hint of his demise.

Because everything would kill him, cigars on a smoking night, or alcohol sipping dew- they’ll all kill him in the end. Alexander chose the boy with the blue eyes- and together their spirits both died. Alexander didn’t need a milky sky on a sunny day- John Lauren’s eyes were the heavens and his mind was the center. At the end of the day, it never mattered because the sea and the sky both envied his eyes. Generous as he was, John would give one eye to the sea, and another to the sky- to make Alexander’s world more beautiful to live.

Alexander sometimes regretted falling for the boy with the baby blue eyes.

Only because he worried one day he’d forget, what it felt like to breathe underwater.

And how your skin feels like,

The smooth skin of John’s back were a marble track that Alexander’s fingers danced upon. There were no creases or wrinkles on his skin, no messy freckles dotting the surface. His body was clear except for the symmetrical scars on both of his forearms and shoulder, one two inches above his heart. Sometimes the immigrant would turn over on the cot, and John would kiss his shoulder blades- and for that split second, the weight of the world was lifted.

He’d trace a line connecting the two scars into a life line of fate and protection. It snapped when John was shot three times. Alexander was told he was found on his back, his pupils glaring straight up the silver lining in the clouds- that’s where he was now. Could he fly there? Alexander always envisioned their bare exterior fondling again in front of a fire on the cool stone base- he’d follow more lines from his fingertips to collect three more bullet scars in his nails.

But Alexander never saw John Laurens again. So how could he collect his scars when there was no where to gather them from?

John traced poetry in the freckles scattered across his nose- he not once read them out loud and somehow Alexander knew what they were about. He laid his head on top of his chest and listened to the ocean, like a tiny child with a sea shell to their ear. If Alexander recognized his younger self on a desolate island in the Caribbean, would he warn him about the boy with ocean eyes and marble skin? Or would even that not be able to discontinue himself from loving something to true.

Because poetry was when his perception ceased thought and just felt.

Alexander longed to learn the lyrics of his life, memorize each line so he could sing the most handsome song- both of their hearts entwined. There was inferno they both shared, sifting, flickering high- but when half the fire revolved to smoke- Alexander got burned. His skin charred and flaking, maybe he’d blow away into the shine.

With John Laurens, Alexander danced beneath the stars, drinking it the night. He’d trace his fingertips along the curves, waxing and waning across his chest- ribs and collarbones collide. With John Laurens, he always found the north star in the man of marble stardust skin.

Until I realized,

For four years, Alexander Hamilton had a home. He had a place, and had a purpose and he had a castle they had both built. Alexander found his home in a man named John Laurens. Only when he met him did he realize that his home set course for disaster, tumbling down to earth. In his haven, there was a man with honey colored hair, voice like a metaphor, who tasted of sweet wine, his eyes were like a sea of stars and was made of marble skin. John always told him he was a boy with glistening sand, skin. Some may say Alexander didn’t find a home, for perhaps he just found love. Because you cannot make homes out of humans, life isn’t a fire to keep you warm, arms are not walls to protect you.

Lies. Alexander Hamilton will whisper proud and true. Because in a body beneath the soil, you’ll find Alexander Hamilton’s soul wrapped in a gorgeous satin ribbon in the space where a man's modest eyes once lived. How could he not have a sanctuary, when he was buried with him? A heart of gold stopped beating, two glistening optics laid to rest, god broke his heart to prove that he only takes the best.

Alexander Hamilton once had a home.

Alexander found a home in the boy with blue eyes.

They had expected to hear a place.

#alexander hamilton #Presley writes like he’s running out of time #john laurens #lams #american history #us history #history

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