#if it were flat trays enough it wouldn't even take up that much more space probs

[emeraldreverie]

ok maybe this is a question that won't go far, but i can't be the only one asking so maybe someone will see it, but

does anyone have a recommendation for a weekly medication container that is not Pill Only oriented? something like stacking trays even

now brain is flowing wishing i had a 3d printer and design skills to make this myself

[doodlebeeberry]

Why she was sitting up on the pool rim with her, then, Charlotte didn't know.

wip of a charlotte and amelia fic cause. i dont really have a good reason i just feel bad leaving it on my hard drive for so long with out touching it.

The plane wasn't quiet. It had been, it had been really quiet, for a while, back when Airy had first disappeared. Hours (days? Weeks? Months? Shifts, the others had started calling them, like they were stuck at work instead of in Hell, though she herself could never get in the habit) of silence would stretch over the plane on all sides. Charlotte, more often than not, would use that time the same way she almost always did: sitting back, thinking, watching, on occasion, whatever the others were up to. Fun times. But, sometime in between dying–or reviving, reincarnating, she didn't even wanna begin figuring that one out, so dying it remained–and Backpack–Liam–making an appearance…wherever Airy was, something changed. She'd noticed while trying to take a nap, how there was always noise now, some little background noise beyond the usual chatting that was a frequent fixture of this place. She heard rain pretty often, or what sounded like rain, sometimes like a drizzle and others like a down-and-out hurricane. Typing was even more common, the clunky kind from a loud keyboard, alongside computer mouse clicking and muttering. Lots of muttering. Lots of muttered curses, to be more specific, in a voice eerily like Liam's. Honestly, it sounded like someone had walked away from a voice call without turning the microphone off, all that kind of unconscious background noise. Putting two and two together, she could guess that Liam himself had something to do with it. Figures.

At the moment, she heard the faintest sound of snores make their way down to them, which had followed behind keystroke clacks, slowing steadily until, with a final little clatter, the vanished altogether. It was an easy picture to paint, Liam slumped over whatever keyboard he had on his end, asleep with his cheek pressed flat on the keys, and fitting given that almost everyone down on the plane was asleep as well. Subway and Whippy had gone inanimate–another wonderful phenomena of this place she wouldn't bother figuring out–in a little pile, one stacked on top of the other. She'd caught Tray dozing on the far side of the pool, and last she saw Scenty and Soda–Bryce–they'd been in the shed failing to play chess, she could only assume they'd fallen asleep at some point too. Charlotte was tempted to join in, honestly, she certainly felt tired. Earlier she'd been pulled, five against one (though it really wasn't much of a fight) into helping whittle down some of the wood from that last stake into something they could actually use. Someone–Subway, she guessed–wanted to make another game board, so that they'd have something to play other than chess. But despite actually doing something today, the keyboard noise combined with the renewing ache of growth in her shoulder had kept Charlotte awake, enough so that she'd said Fuck It and went on a short walk down to the plug and back in the hopes that it'd knock her out. Which it hadn't yet, even though she was already on her way back. Passing by Subway and Whippy, still inert, she groaned internally. Staring off into space and thinking–spiraling, more accurately, though she wouldn't put it like that–hadn't exactly done her any good before she died. Charlotte wasn't keen on playing that game again, but she didn't have anything else to do, particularly with just about everyone else asleep. She could swim, she thought, but hesitated at the thought of all that moisture mingling with her mold. She passed by Atom, the only other person awake by the looks of it, noticeable only by an overturned triangle of grass, bobbing as he tried drawing in the dirt with its tip. He greeted her, just like he had when she'd left. She could sit with him, watch him draw, even draw herself if she wanted, but…eh. She wasn't really one for art. That, and Atom was another one of those quirks of the plane she didn't wanna put much thought into; she didn't really like hanging around with just him. She nodded back at him, returning his greeting, and approached the shed. If nothing else, she could always steal the chess board from Bryce and Scenty while they slept, though the thought of playing a one-on-one match with herself was absolutely humiliating.

Charlotte sighed, rounding the corner. What she wouldn't give for her flat-screen. Or her phone. Or the internet. God, she missed the internet. All the movies or games or books she could have ever wanted had been right at her fingertips, and now she'd been reduced to just whittling away her time. Literally. It sucked. Before she could get too far with her griping, though, she glanced into the shed. The sight gave her pause. Bryce was there, as she'd guessed, leaning back with his feet kicked up on both the table and the board–the bastard, she thought, unable now to steal it without waking him–but that was it. Bryce was asleep alone, Scenty nowhere to be seen. Huh. it wasn't a cause for concern, really. Unless she'd fallen from somewhere, somehow, and shattered her sorry ass Charlotte knew she was fine–not like they could get lost here, after all, or go missing–but it was weird. She shrugged, turning away from the scene. Not like it was any of her business what Scenty got up to in her down time. But no sooner had she written the situation off did she spot the woman of the hour perched up on the rim of the pool, alone, facing the water. Again Charlotte paused–that was even weirder. She could count the number of times she'd seen Scenty up there on one hand with fingers to spare, and not once had she been alone. The ladder in her sights, Charlotte weighed her options.

...At least the climb up the ladder was short.

Annoying, given the bad are and shit depth perception, but short. And the view from the rim wasn't terrible. Not that there was much to see, beyond the occasional sleeping forms of the others-now including Tray, visible from this vantage point, still curled up exactly where Charlotte had last seen her-but you could see the curvature of the plane, the way the "grass" seemed flatter the further out you squinted. At the very least, you could see it all more clearly that you could from the ground. At its edges, the sky was grey. Greyer, anyway, or duller. The sun sat squat overhead. Scenty sat criss-cross a scooch or two away. Hands at her side kept her balanced on the thin edge, Charlotte thought. She pulled herself up onto the lip, alongside her. Scenty didn't acknowledge her, if she noticed her at all, staring into the water. Reflected back, Scenty's expression was steady. Charlotte watched her a moment, then, with a splash, plopped her feet into the water. Perfectly lukewarm. Eugh. The reflection rippled. Scenty glanced at her slightly. Charlotte caught her eye instantly. She raised a brow, and Scenty looked away. Charlotte did the same.

They stayed like this for several minutes. Looking around, into the water. Sometimes Charlotte would drag her feet, back and forth, making the sun around their heads distort. Charlotte and Scenty hadn't talked much lately. They'd talked a little, in a place like this it was almost impossible to avoid one another entirely, but all of it was short and none of it mattered much. Just shift talks, mostly. Somewhere along the line, Subway, nosy bastard that he was, insisted on knowing more about her life-particularly her cave exploring, which both he and Whippy claimed was too cool a topic to keep to herself. She'd relented eventually, if only (she would say) to get them off her back, and one little story-time turned into another, then another. Then the others started throwing in their own experiences–who was dating who at Tray's school, convoluted sub-atomic politics as described by Atom that Charlotte simply could not wrap her head around, a story about sibling mischief that made Bryce sound fonder than she'd ever heard him. Even Liam had joined in a couple of times, with weird telemarketing stories that made him laugh tiredly. It became part of the work shifts, like yoga or whittling. Scenty, meanwhile, never joined them. Charlotte only offered once. She wasn't surprised, being turned down. She remembered what'd happened, just before Bryce showed up. Scenty was set on leaving that chat unfinished and Charlotte couldn't be assed to do anything about it, even if it kept them from actually talking about anything ever again. Whatever problem Scenty had, that was her business.

Why she was sitting up on the pool rim with her, then, Charlotte didn't know. She hadn't really thought this through as well as it seemed. Scratch that, she hadn't really thought this through at all. But the silence was getting awkward, with everyone else too asleep to break it. "The water's…nice," Charlotte tried lying first. Scenty hummed. The quiet returned. Damn it. She kicked the water around a bit. "You don't come up here much," she observed instead. "Not really, no," Scenty replied.

[lunarscaled]

"I've received these two fragrances as a gift from Epel and Ortho. Won't you give it a try?" He's not even waiting for Lyric to respond much less offer their hand. He's taking Lyric's wrist, turning it over to put a spritz of one of the bottles on the lowest part of their palm. "Don't rub it. I don't know where people got the idea of rubbing a fragrance but it ruins the wear." He looks so pleased with the gifts those two got him - surely, you won't try to tell him those two boys made a poor choice? / hi lyric has been on the brain

-> When the Film Research Club had requested a consultation from the Scientific Research Club of suitable plants for their scene setting, Lyric had thought they would be able to slip under the radar by volunteering to move heavy pots from one room to another instead of having to do the talking; it didn't exactly make them feel thrilled at other students rifling through their cabinet of meticulously organized plant data and cultivation notes, but it was in the better interest of both clubs to streamline the decision making process that way. So, Lyric heaves a massive stone pot and palm tree by themselves in both arms down a long hallway to the storage room of the Film Club, nearly waddling the whole time under the weight, the thick muscle of their arms straining taunt the sleeves of their uniform. They are careful to set the pot down tilted first and then slowly shuffling it to lay flat and upright, as to not risk cracking the ceramic at the last moment; Lyric checks none of the palm fronds were bent or broken in the surrounding space, knowing the Film Club likely wouldn't accept irregular looking selections, and when they are satisfied they leave the door open behind them for other students ( it seemed the storage would be a temporary greenhouse-like space for the plants to be brought out of. ) They take their time walking back up the hall, giving slight bows of their head to other passing students and Science Club members, nearly each one bearing a potted plant or tray of sprouts as they sprinted down the hall. Outside of their own club room, a number of Pomfiore students crowd the door in rich royal purple and immaculate skin ( their stares barely even glance over them. they feel the sting on the back of their neck like they've done something offensive. existing, perhaps. ) Just inside the overflowing club room, they are caught by the arm from an upperclassman in red. Oh, Lyric, will you go inspect the stage space? We really need eyes on it for this.

"...Right. Leave it to me."

-> Night Raven has many overlapping, winding halls. Merely saying "the stage space" is not specific enough for them, but they doubt that member knew any more about where to go than they do, so they decide to head to the Film Club's room directly---a currently repurposed rehearsal studio. It made sense, for the nature of the club. In the middle of those nearly empty polished hardwoods ( were the rest of the members rehearsing on the set? was Vil handling the behind the scenes work this time? ) with papers and bottles in hand is none other than Vil Schoenheit; Queen of the campus, his stare could put any student in line without another thought, Lyric included. Their footsteps feel too loud when they walk and that consciousness only makes them move stiffly rather than lightly. Even at a distance they can see how his long pale lashes seem unreal against the vibrant color of his eyes, the living color in his cheeks. Vil was beautiful in a viscerally living way: he did not appear fragile or cold like a doll, but instead so beautiful and real he could make other people want to live to become closer to it. ( they walked closer without saying anything polite first, they realize. but even so, when he turns and notices them they see a fleeting assurance of what might have been a smile. ) Their muscles feel so tight their shoulders ache.

"Housewarden Schoenheit---"

-> I've received these two fragrances as a gift from Epel and Ortho. Won't you give it a try? The confidence of his voice easily overwhelms their tepid greeting of him, so strong they think they're caught in a riptide of that charisma before they can catch their balance. He is quick to take one of their limp hands at the wrist, turns it over to face him and sprays them with... something. They don't know what it is. Just as quickly he lets it go again, and the fingers of Lyric's opposing hand flex open and closed in a fidget to avoid wiping away the wet, though they know if they were patient it would dry on its own. If Vil said they shouldn't rub it, they won't ( if for no reason than that they had a small but profound experience in dealing with Vil's explicit self care instruction. )

"...what is it? "A fragrance?" Like... enchanted water or something?"

-> It might be a bad moment to let Vil in on the fact that Lyric did not know what a perfume was, and had never used any previously.

-> They stare at their own wrist, and then up at his satisfied, proud face. Epel and Ortho... the names were ones they had only heard in passing. Try as they might, there was no clear picture that came to their head. ( they lean forward a bit and sniff. the smell was soft and fresh, reminded them of a bright pastel pink or vibrant yellow, but they couldn't place it. reptiles had better eyesight than olfactory senses, but it didn't mean their nose was encyclopedic about things it has never seen before. ) Lyric's feet fidget in place, nervous when lined up with his pupils as he gauges their reaction. Would he not give them directions to the set if they didn't answer correctly?

"...It smells nice. A little sweet. What is it? I've never smelled something like that before."