#milton flask | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

harrison-abbott · 1 year ago

Text

PENICUIK (1996)

Davies called me with the details. It didn’t sound good. A boy had gone missing in one of the provincial towns. Penicuik. He’d been gone for four days and he was thirteen. Cases like this didn’t usually end well. But it was my duty to go and find him.

So I got in the car and drove out of the city. The boy’s name was Tim Milton.

I went to a high school in a provincial town as well. It was actually near this same motorway, only the other side of the city; I remember those apocalyptic bus rides each morning, drudging into hell. I fucking hated school and adolescence in general. And it contributed nothing to my being a detective. But, I’m sure most teenagers feel the same.

Penicuik, when I got there, was very similar to the town where I schooled. Industrial housing from the 1950s. A kind of gaunt collectivism. I was supposed to go down and see his parents first, Tim’s parents, to see what they had to say. But I wanted to go to the crime scene first. It wasn’t a ‘scene’ per se, as a collection of evidence. They’d found Tim’s hat in the woods. Football hat. In a spot near the river. The police sealed off this section and I had a rough area on a map as to the location.

What I first noted this this was some distance from Penicuik. According to his neighbours and family Tim was last seen heading on a bike ride down to the woods, where he often went for journeys.

I parked my car at the top of the woods and walked along the trail. It took me nearly half an hour to get to the river and I saw nobody as I went. The trail was pulpy with mud and I fumbled about with the map trying to find this cordoned area. The map was no use and I only found it when I stumbled on the yellow POLICE tape strung around a group of trees. I went under the tape.

Okay … So it was close to the main trail. And, as I heard, close to the river. The most likely scenario was that somebody had attacked Tim here. And during the assault he lost his hat, and the panicky attacker or attackers didn’t notice it. But, what about the bike? Where was Tim’s bike? They’d obviously gone to the effort to hide the bike.

I went down to the river bank and looked up and down. I followed its current. The bankside was gnarly and tricky to cross. I drank from my flask and it livened me up a bit: shouldn’t be so lazy. There was so much junk in the river it was crazy. All sorts of detritus. Supermarket trolleys and weird household items, TVs, binbags, footballs, everything. There were clearly dodgy histories in Penicuik.

But then I found what I was looking for.

The bicycle. It had been thrown in the river, as I’d expected. But had been snagged against a tree trunk by the riverside. Caught against the limbs. I went up and examined it. It was new and usable and boy’s size. The witnesses said he drove a white bike. It was white. I lifted it up and brought it dripping onto the bank.

So the assailants threw the bike into the river, just as many Penicuik residents did with their un-wanted items. But what did they do with Tim after that? There was a reasonable chance he might be in the river too. I just had the sense that there was something else, other than the river. That Tim had been taken further into the woods. I kept going.

And I came to a bridge. 30 yards above me. I was drinking when I heard a noise. There were heads popped out in the sky atop the bridge. They were kids – teenagers like Tim. Hollering at me. I decided to ignore them and go on but when I came to the bridge I found that the river trail ended there and I wouldn’t be able to get past without jumping in the water. I hesitated, wondering what to do. Then a bottle smashed at my feet. I jumped cartoonishly. And all the boys on the bridge above laughed. I took a slug of whisky and went up the hill.

I climbed over the fence at the top. There were four lads there on the bridge. Red-faced, drunk and grinning. They walked towards me.

“What you doing creeping around in the woods, man?” the leader of the group said.

I looked over the area and realised I needed to cross the bridge to continue down the river. There was no other route. The lads kept approaching, confident; I walked towards them.

“Why are you here anyway?” the leader said again.

“Here, lads,” I said, “I’m not interested in you. Leave me be.”

“Who are you?”

“I just need to get over this bridge and then I’ll be off.”

“Why?”

The leader lad lunged towards me and stood over my body. I’ve always been a small man and not physically terrifying. I flinched. And his cronies laughed.

I took my pistol out of my holster. They froze when they saw the gun. Lifted it up and bullet into the air. And they all twitched. The gunpowder rang over the woods and the birds burst out of the trees. Then the boys all ran away along the trail.

Jesus, kids can be so stupid. Fucking idiots.

Did those lads have something to do with Tim’s disappearance? They seemed arrogant in their territory. It was very possible; but I needed to keep going along the river. So I dipped off the main trail and drank along the way.

The river had a hypnotic, cinematic quality to it. The way it changed light and sound. It made me feel more endangered than those kids or anybody else I’ve faced in my career. A sense of eeriness, as if I might fall in the water any second.

At length I saw an urban shape over the water. It was some kind of tunnel. I got closer and stared up at it. It looked like some kind of sewage or industrial pipe. But it was obviously disused, as the metal was all rusted. And it just looked decades-old in style.

I climbed up the bank-side towards it. Which was tricky; I clung to the ivy strands to pull myself up, and when I eventually got to the top was all sweaty and prickling. I approached the tunnel. Something about its image attracted me, as if it wasn’t a part of this case. Even though I knew it was.

The tunnel had these spikes on the end of it. To stop people walking across the pipe. Next challenge. I held onto one of the spikes at the bottom, then jumped off the side. And, man, I was so unfit that I nearly ripped off the side. But I somehow managed to crawl up onto the surface of the pipe. It was still possible to fall off into the river below so I had to be careful.

I walked the length of the tunnel, looking for clues. I saw little save inscriptions of an old factory district in the city. NIDDRIE – where there was a booming steelwork back in the day. It went bust 20 years back. I’d forgotten about it until then.

At the end of the tunnel I had to jump over the other spikes. It was a goofy jump and I landed on my face but at least I got over. Then I looked at the other end of the tunnel. There was some kind of contraption on its vessel. On the underside of the tunnel, before the piping led back into the woodland ground. A door. A trapdoor that was sealed at the top with a padlock. Wow.

I tried to open the trapdoor with my hands. It obviously wasn’t working. As I wrestled with it I heard a noise from inside the tunnel. It sounded at first like an animal. I couldn’t move the door. So I brought my pistol out again and I shot through the padlock. The padlock pinged away. I pulled the trapdoor open.

And now looked into a tunnel. Where something was screaming down it in sublime echo.

It was dark. I turned my torch on and shone it down the cone.

There was a little boy screeching at the end of it. His body raced about the walls of the tunnel like a confused spider. I put down the torch. And called out to him.

“I’m a policeman!”

The kid screamed.

“I’m a policeman, kid. Are you Tim Milton?”

Stupid question.

“Here, son,” I said, not knowing what else to do. I brought out a chocolate bar I had in my inside pocket. “You must be hungry and tired, right? I’m police and I’m here to get you back to your family. Do you want something to eat?”

The child nervously came down the tunnel.

“Did a group of boys take you here?” I said.

He nodded and his face scrunched up as if he was about to start crying. His face was bruised up. I didn’t want to touch him so I used my words.

“It’s all right, Tim, you’re safe now. Those boys won’t attack you again. And we’ll get them back. I just saw those fuckers up the path. I’ll get them. Arrest them, give them a charge.”

Then the boy started crying. He sobbed hysterically. I asked him to come out of the tunnel and he did so. And crouched there crying in a ball on the grass. But at least there was now green all around him.

Okay so I’d found Tim Milton and the case was essentially solved. He was going to be damaged for the rest of his life. A group of boys older and bigger than him had abducted him and trapped him in a weird tunnel in the woods. Probably for no reason other than sadism. This ranked fairly moderately on the spectrum of cruelty I’ve witnessed throughout my profession.

Tim sat up on the floor. I held the chocolate out to him. And he took it. He ate it. He chomped greedily and it was satisfying to hear his jowls work.

I put a call through to the team back at the head quarters. Asked them to put me through to Davies.

“I’ve found him,” I said. “Tim Milton is still alive.”

THE END

#writeblr #creative writing #stories #prose #Detective L Walter #speculative writing #crime and noir #cops and robbers #short story #fiction

5 notes · View notes

digimaverix · 20 days ago

Text

milton is an online store which offers you variety of kitchen & home products online in india at best prices

#kitchen produts #home products #home products online #kitchen products online

0 notes

mech1tech1 · 4 months ago

Video

youtube

milton 500ml bottle|thermosteel flask hot and cold|milton flask| thermos...

#youtube

0 notes

lymphomalass · 5 months ago

Text

Bilingual post - English to follow

Post dwyieithog - Saesneg i ddilyn

Mae Cystadleuaeth “Rhedeg Pêl” Castell Tywod yn dŵad i Fae Trearddur eto!

(Ar y traeth bach ar ddiwedd y Prif Fae, oddi ar Ravenscroft Road)

Dechrau am 2 o’r gloch prynhawn dydd Sul 18ed Awst.

Gorffen am 4 o’r gloch

Mynediad am ddim ond mae gynnon ni fwced ar gyfer rhoddion i'r RNLI!

Adeiladwch drac i bêl golff redeg i lawr heb stopio na chymorth

Pa mor hir y medrwch chi wneud trac?

Allwch chi ychwanegu rhannau clyfar...? Twneli, traphontydd, Lego, wedi'u gwneud ymlaen llaw...?

A fydd eich un chi yn edrych orau? ...Taclus, wedi'i addurno â phatrymau neu gregyn môr?

Dewch i adeiladu pêl castell tywod yn rhedeg a dewch â rhawiau!

Mi fyddwn ni’n darparu peli golff, tiwbiau ar gyfer twneli, landeri ar gyfer rhediadau syth ac efallai mwy…

Neu dewch i weld!

Croeso i bawb - plant ac oedolion!

Dewch â rhieni efo fflasg, byrbrydau a rhaw, plîs!

(Mae'n ddrwg gen i, rhaid I ni ofyn i chi beidio â thynnu lluniau heb ganiatâd gan bawb yn y llun.)

Trefnwr gwirfoddol: Haywood Milton [email protected]

Cyfieithwr gwirfoddol: Sam Robson aka LymphomaLass (myfyriwr lefel Mynediad y Gymraeg)

Llun: Sam Robson aka LymphomaLass (https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/150652305 )

The Sand Castle "Ball Run" Competition is coming to Trearddur Bay again!

(On the small beach at the end of Main Bay, off Ravenscroft Road)

Starting at 2 o'clock in the afternoon on Sunday 18th August.

Finish at 4 o'clock

Free entry but we have a bucket for donations to the RNLI!

Build a track for a golf ball to run down without stopping or assistance

How long can you make a track?

Can you add smart parts...? Tunnels, viaducts, Lego, pre-made...?

Will yours look the best? ...Neat, decorated with patterns or seashells?

Come and build a sandcastle ball run and bring spades!

We will provide golf balls, tubes for tunnels, gutters for straight runs and maybe more…

Or come and watch!

Everyone welcome - children and adults!

Please bring parents with a flask, snacks and a spade!

(I'm sorry, we must ask you not to take photos without permission from everyone in the shot.)

Volunteer organiser: Haywood Milton [email protected]

Volunteer translator: Sam Robson aka LymphomaLass (Entry level Welsh language student)

Painting: Sam Robson aka LymphomaLass (https://www.redbubble.com/shop/ap/150652305 )

#crymraeg #ynys môn #anglesey #trearddur bay #trearddur #sand castle #sandcastles #sandcastle competition #cymru

1 note · View note

aculinarydropout · 1 year ago

Link

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Thermosteel Flip Lid Flask.

0 notes

goldenraeofsun · 2 years ago

Text

Day 1: Maize / Maze

Dean stumbles in the dark and nearly faceplants into the nearest wall of corn stalks. Swearing under his breath, he dusts off his hands and glances around in case anyone saw.

Nobody did, of course, because he’s in the middle of the Corn Maze, AKA the lamest attraction at the harvest festival.

Dean still felt like a little bit of a shit for giving Sam such crap for finally getting the balls to ask Jess on a date. It was his older brother prerogative to keep Sam’s ego in check, but Dean probably should have made sure they were alone before he got started.

Next thing he knew, Mom was rounding on Sam, asking if she was coming to dinner after, what her parents were like, if she was the Jess Sam mentioned months ago that he swore to Mom was just a friend.

So when Sammy shot Dean those puppy dog eyes over Jess’s head after twenty minutes of festival games, Dean was all too happy to skedaddle. He left them heading to the Ferris Wheel.

The Corn Maze was on the other side of grounds, so Dean figured that would give Sam enough time to get his gross tween make out on.

But Dean hadn’t factored in that it was a fucking maze, and he’d emptied half his flask while playing third wheel to Sam’s lame G-rated date. Apparently his sense of direction took a nosedive along with his sobriety. Who knew.

He groans, squinting up at the stars overhead. He must be far from the fairgrounds, since the light pollution is minimal, and he can make out the Big Dipper shining clearly above him.

He’d already tried busting out the compass on his phone, but the app did jack shit since Dean had no idea where the exit was. He could make it to the northernmost corner of the maze no problem, though. Super helpful.

Still, he trudges north. At the next fork, he takes a right, trips over something in the dark, and almost falls to the ground again before he catches himself. He scans the immediate area again, in case anyone witnessed his most recent embarrassment.

But this time, someone is standing just ahead, thankfully not looking in his direction at all.

Dean recognizes that silhouette, the riot of dark hair, the gentle slope of that nose. Hey, it wasn’t like he was going to spend all of chemistry staring at his Bunsen burner, after all.

“Cas!” Dean says loudly in surprise. He subtly runs a hand through his hair to make sure it’s not sticking up in any weird directions from his multiple run-ins with cornstalks.

Castiel Milton, Dean’s current lab partner and president of the astronomy club, jerks around at the sound of his name, his blue eyes widening.

“Hello, Dean,” he says once he’s recovered. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Uh, me neither,” Dean says, ridiculously thankful for the darkness surrounding them that’ll hide his reddening face. Just what he needs, for Cas to see him hopelessly lost and half drunk in a goddamn corn maze. He scrambles for something to talk about, to keep Cas here with him. “Uh, stars, right?”

He’s such a dumbass.

But, to his surprise, Cas smiles. “They’re especially bright tonight. It’s mostly why I came into the corn maze in the first place.”

Dean nods along eagerly. “You gonna use them to navigate your way outta here, I guess, Mr. Astronomy President?”

Cas’s mouth opens and closes without a sound.

Dean narrows his eyes – is Cas actually blushing?

“I – well, that was what I intended to do,” Cas says in a small voice, “But reading about celestial navigation and actually doing it are, in fact, very different things.” He grimaces. “Can you lead me to the exit, by any chance?”

Dean chuckles. “Dude, I’ve been lost for the past thirty minutes.”

“Oh,” Cas says, his shoulders slumping.

“But I got something that might help,” he says, reaching into his jacket. Cas blinks owlishly at him as Dean waves his flask in front of his face. ��How about it, Space Race?”

Cas swallows. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” he says tentatively.

“That’s the spirit,” Dean encourages as Cas takes the flask from him and swigs it back like a pro. “Woah,” Dean says, pinching it out of Cas’s grip. “Who knows how long we’ll be stuck here. Gotta ration the goods, buddy.”

Cas grins. “‘We’?” he echoes.

Dean licks his lips. “Two heads are better than one, right?”

“That is how the saying goes,” Cas says solemnly. He lifts his chin, his eyes scanning the constellations overhead. He sighs wistfully, shivering.

Well, that is a problem Dean can fix.

He shrugs out of his jacket and drapes it over Cas’s shoulders before Cas can protest. “Seems like you’ve been out here longer than I have.”

“I can’t,” Cas says, biting his lip. “Won’t you get cold?” he asks worriedly.

Dean, warm from the company and the whiskey in his stomach, just winks.

Cas freezes. “We should go this way,” he says, taking off into the darkness, but not before Dean catches the wide smile on his face.

The search party finds them two full hours later, flask empty, lips swollen, lying under Dean’s jacket like a blanket that barely covers them.

After Dean drops off Jess and Cas at their respective homes, Sam wakes Mom up at 1:30 in the goddamn morning to share the news.

#suptober22 #destiel #fanfic #destiel fanfic #rae writes fic #high school au #student dean #student castiel #lets gooooo

91 notes · View notes

newlaunchpropertiyinindia · 5 years ago

Link

#Milton Thermosteel Flip Lid Flask 1000 milliliters Silver #milton thermosteel bottle cap rubber

0 notes

spookylittletownhq · 2 years ago

Text

A HUGH EDGAR WARREN III has arrived in Albion. While they may seem STRANGE, they are connected to the WESTERLY FOOTHILLS MILTONS. Their passport was stamped at Falls’ Inn and shows that they are 34, SIX FEET FOUR INCHES, with BROWN HAIR and BLUE EYES. Mrs. Kuiper at the Inn said that they seemed OFF-PUTTINGLY HANDSOME AND A CHARMING CONVERSATIONALIST, though they were seen DRINKING FROM A FLASK as they departed St. Catharine’s Depot. Be wary, and report any sightings to Madame Lange’s Tea Room.

INTRODUCING EDDIE WARREN

The story they tell was that they left the Valley. Those they left behind have no memory of them. The truth is somewhere in the middle.

She had a gift. Peering into the future was not unique to her, but controlling it--or so they say--crossed the sacred line between Good and Evil.

Johanna Milton disappeared with Edgar Warren in the dark of night. Edgar’s wife Suzanna, filled with rage and heartbreak, died of fever three days later. And the Warrens were never heard from again.

---

Eddie’s story is best told backwards.

Now. An entrepreneur, a co-owner of a jazz club, a bootlegger. Eddie has more enemies than friends. But he has a knack for social connections, and even his enemies begrudgingly agree that he’s a charmer.

Days are nights and nights are days to Eddie. He spends his nights tending the bar of the Chipmunk Club, a speakeasy hidden deep in the bowels of Manhattan, mingling with jazz musicians and dancers and gamblers. He’d never waste the space in his sprawling bachelor pad with bathtub gin, but Eddie makes it his business to know where to get moonshine, and who wants it.

He’s a man of many talents, and he’ll crow about most of them, but the one that he keeps closely guarded is his talent for music. Piano, guitar, trumpet, a little trombone and a little clarinet, he’s been known to fill in for the bands that play at the Club.

He arrives back home in the early morning hours exhausted and exhilarated by a night of partying. A hit of heroin and he’s fast asleep until evening, when he does his bookkeeping and goes to Theodosia’s house for dinner.

“Heard from Paul?” he’ll ask.

“No,” Theo says, but Eddie knows better.

Paul called this morning. He struggles.

Theo watches Eddie watching her. She frowns. “You worry for him.”

“No,” Eddie says with a wave of his hand. She knows, he knows.

Then. Eddie was the favorite. He was the type of boy that could sit at the dinner table surrounded by adults and carry on a conversation. He could be entertaining, even contrary, much to the delight of those around him. Grandma doted, called him special. From a young age, he found out adults didn’t always say what they were thinking, but he knew Grandma told the truth when she said he was going to be amazing.

Eddie wasn’t very good at school, but that was okay. He didn’t need books to take over the family businesses. Father taught him everything he needed to know, and Eddie never wasted an opportunity to make money.

He might not have been very smart, or good at math, but he knew how to mingle and socialize. Reading into others’ thoughts could be fraught with problems though. He knew when someone had a crush on him, he knew when someone was angry with him, he knew secrets he shouldn’t tell--sometimes he had trouble knowing what he was told, and what he heard. Betraying the trust of his friends became a commonplace mistake, and enemies were made. He was incapable of maintaining close relationships and therefore didn’t. His closest ‘friends’ were more like business partners--Al and Jimmie.

Theodosia and Paul were his younger siblings. Theodosia was just as eager as Eddie to be noticed and adored, but she was often overlooked. So she did things her own way, leaving the family as soon as she could to go to college (much to Mother’s despair). She met and married a real estate magnate, and stayed in the city.

Paul was another story. Grandma used to say he must have been born with a sour lemon in his mouth. Theodosia minded him when no one else would, after Father and Mother passed in that car accident when Eddie, Theodosia, and Paul were just kids. A sickly child, Paul watched the world go by from the window, rarely able to enjoy the outdoors due to asthma. He read books. Did math. Wanted to be an accountant, but life had other plans--June 1917, Paul got a draft letter. He passed the physical, somehow, and was sent to London, then France, and came back in January of 1919 broken. On Christmas Day, artillery fire struck his camp, paralyzing him.

Eddie tried to help, but Paul refused, preferring to stay with Theodosia and her husband, until finding his own flat. He agreed to work for the Club, doing the books for a salary, but he rarely talked to his brother.

Future. The strange letter, opened and left at the dining room table, must have been some sort of mistake. Or a joke. But was it? Grandma and Grandpa moved to New York after they got married in Pennsylvania. Sometimes they would mention a Valley, or maybe that was something Eddie heard when he shouldn’t have.

Waking at sunset wore on him. All the drinks and the sleepless nights wreaked havoc on his body. The air in the city seemed dirtier and dirtier as the years went on. Eddie was even beginning to grow tired of jazz.

He needed the change.

---

Welcome to the valley! Please send in your account within 24 hours. 💚

#spookylittletown;accepted #the devil's proxy

5 notes · View notes

goldmine3000 · 2 years ago

Text

moon river

it's the things that sound the worst that i miss the most about you

foggy eyeglasses and spilt beers

the damp walks on a frozen patio

from the boiling hot tub to the mattress that barely fit two humans

garlic fries in gale force winds

lighting cigarettes on gas burners

having you take all my sheets with you as you woke up in the morning

or waiting at the doctor’s to get an MRI that never came

i enjoyed it all

because of you

perhaps i never showed it

i might have never even told you

but i appreciated every car ride you gave me

so i didn’t have to walk .6 miles just to pretend to help you meal prep

how you said it was ok that I thought The Joker was scary

and didn’t judge me bc i couldn’t even sneak a diet coke past the ticket collector

how we took a day trip to milton-freewater at 10am on a wednesday

and ate mexican food

how we explored every grocery store in town

always finding what we didn’t know we were looking for

how you included me on your journeys

your successes and shortcomings

your fears and frustrations

as i fought my demons behind closed doors

my hand on the small of your back as i’m 10 million miles away

unable to wrestle my focus from the issues that will work themselves out in time

issues that won’t matter to me the way you mattered to me

you and your sweaters that are always 2 sizes too big

you and your hydro flask that weighs 800 pounds

the kinks in your hair

and the tired sleepy smiles

everything that makes you you

everything you have struggled for

all the mountains you’ve climbed

all that has been taken from you

and all you’ve rebuilt

you might not think they matter.

but they matter to me.

#poem #poetry

2 notes · View notes

miltonsemporium · 7 years ago

Photo

Perfect Potions!

A glass potion bottle wrapped in leather! The leather is riveted into place around the bottle with brass rivets, and there is a snap on a loop that fits over a belt. The bottles each have a cork stopper.

Comes in a choice of either black or dark brown leather.

#dragoncon #potion bottle #potion #flask #potion flask #steampunk #costume #cosplay #miltonsemporium #milton's emporium

6 notes · View notes

tothelasthoursofmylife · 3 years ago

Text

It took me far too long to realise that tumblr messed up the quality and size of the character sheets and made them barely readable... (and even more time until I got around to fixing this.)

So, here's a reupload and the overdue all-text versions for everyone who has trouble reading handwriting (+ bonus Oscar!).

Name: Cloudia Phantomhive

Birthday: April 5, 1830

Favourite Colour: blue

Favourite Flower: lily (particularly white ones)

Favourite Dessert: small cakes, biscuits

Random: Much to her chagrin, she can neither sing nor draw; she has, however, mastered playing a musical instrument and has exceptionally lovely handwriting

Nickname(s): Dia, Clou, Cloudie, Lulu, Claudette, Aunt Lou

What is in her bag? a book (usually Dickens), dagger + sheath, skeleton key, perfume bottle, notebook, pencil, hairpins, pistol, necklace

~~~~

Name: Cedric K. Rossdale

Birthday: March 25, 1???

Favourite Colour: cyan

Favourite Flower: bluebell

Favourite Dessert: all of them! (even fruitcake)

Random: He is rather clever with his hands and learned pottery and basketry; his favourite childhood game was cat’s cradle.

Nickname(s): Ced, Ceddie, Undertaker, Kris, Not-Kristopher, Uncle Rapunzel

What is in his bag? sack of sweets (biscuits!), biscuit cutters, destroyed earphones that shouldn’t be here, sometimes a banana (with disastrous results!), loose change, emergency 2nd bag of sweets, mourning hair lockets chain

~~~~

Name: Milton Salisbury

Birthday: June 27, 1823

Favourite Colour: loves them all

Favourite Flower: chrysanthemum

Favourite Dessert: apple cake

Random: Perpetually bored and severely insomniac, he learned various skills to pass his time, but he is too humble to say that he has mastered most of them.

Nickname(s): Mil, Milt, Millie, Sonshine, Sonny, Mor

What is in his bag? tinderbox, shawl, armband, gloves, flask with water, key, pencil, notebook, letter opener

~~~~

Name: Kamden Sainteclare

Birthday: April 5, 1830

Favourite Colour: yellow

Favourite Flower: passionflower, begonia

Favourite Dessert: Charlotte russe

Random: Cloudia’s opposite in almost every way, he can sing and draw, though he seldom draws and only ever hums to himself while working; on the other hand, his handwriting is awful.

Nickname(s): Kam, Kammie, Bookstore Boy

What is in his bag? book (usually a handbook), handkerchief, pocket knife, all the scary medical tools (why though), a sack of bonbons, first-aid kit (how does it even fit???)

~~~~

Name: Alfred Newman

Birthday: 1818

Favourite Colour: green

Favourite Flower: camellia

Favourite Dessert: blancmange (especially with berries!)

Random: Aficionado of romance novels; used to live in an abandoned part of a mysterious all-girls school after fleeing from a workhouse.

Nickname(s): Al, Alfie

What is in his bag? bag with bird food, hair ribbon, dagger + sheath, pocket watch, muff pistol, light read for breaks (Gamiani; his fondness for such literature stems from sentimentality)

~~~~

Name: Lisa Greene

Birthday: January 13, 1829

Favourite Colour: grey

Favourite Flower: anemone

Favourite Dessert: bread and butter pudding

Random: Besides squeezing Thomas’ money out of his pockets at their weekly game nights, she loves to sew by a window on a lazy rainy day.

Nickname(s): Li (only one person is allowed to call her that though)

What is in her bag? sack of herbs (sewn by Newman!), toy soldier, poison-laced hairpins (of course, usually wrapped in a cloth!), roll-up sewing kit, deck of playing cards

~~~~

Name: Cecelia Williams

Birthday: August 24, 1817

Favourite Colour: violet

Favourite Flower: heliotrope, centaury

Favourite Dessert: soda bread pudding

Random: Generally, she dislikes every form of physical exertion, but, when she was younger, she enjoyed walking through fields for hours whenever her father wanted something from her.

Nickname(s): prefers to be called by her full first name

What is in her bag? fan, handkerchief, a few letters and notes, sleeping draught, purse, smelling salt, little booklet with a pressed flower

~~~~

Name: Barrington Weaselton

Birthday: March 31, 1804

Favourite Colour: blue

Favourite Flower: edelweiss

Favourite Dessert: tarts (particularly lemon)

Random: His middle name is quite embarrassingly “Arnfried” as his mother is German (he does not speak German though).

Nickname(s): Barry

What is in his bag? sword, ring on a string, metal box with candy, kaleidoscope, paintbrush, comb

~~~~

Name: Oscar Livingstone

Birthday: December 24, 1798

Favourite Colour: gold, blue

Favourite Flower: rose

Favourite Dessert: cranachan, honey cake

Random: He does not mind if someone keeps him company when he is reading; he only wishes for silence.

Nickname(s): don’t even think about it

What is in his bag? pistol, dagger, knife, piece of wood, flask with water, a book (usually Paradise Lost)

#character sheets #I had the most fun picking all the items and choosing flowers and desserts etc.#and drawing the items and doing some (important?) designing~#when I typed out Cedric's it took me a second to remember why I put that as his random fact though XD #(no idea when cranachan was invented but it fits so well I don't care in this case...)

2 notes · View notes

bitoodle-blog · 6 years ago

Photo

Milton Thermosteel 750 ml Flip Lid

Brand: Milton

Model Name: 750ml Thermosteel

Series: flask flip lid

Cap Type: Flip Open

Sales Package: 1 FLASK WITH BAG

Pack Of: 1

Uses For: Hot Water & Tea

Buy from BITOODLE

#Bitoodle #Milton Thermosteel #Kitchen Accessories #Milton Thermosteel Flask

0 notes

acsdigitalmarketing · 4 years ago

Text

Best Unique Gift Online Ideas for International Nurses Day

Friends are you in search of Best Unique Gift Online Ideas for International Nurses Day? What is a good gift for nurses week 2021? What do nurses want for gifts? How do you celebrate nurse week virtually? What should I buy my nurse for a thank you? How do you show appreciation in nursing? How do you celebrate National Nurses Week? How to celebrate National and International nurses week virtually during lockdown? Celebrate nurses week gifts 2021, practical gift ideas in bulk for nurses staff during Covid and Lockdown. Dear friends they are sister but taking care like Mother, here we are with the Best Unique Gift Online Ideas for International Nurses Day 2 in 1 Wireless Caregiver, Them Nurses Ceramic Coffee Mug or Tea Cup Best Gift for Nurses, Croma Gift Card, Fitbit FB507RGPK Versa 2 Health & Fitness Smartwatch with Heart Rate, Flat 5 % off at checkout Big Bazaar Digital Voucher, Milton Thermosteel Flip Lid Flask, Sterilizer Box Portable Cell Phone Sanitizer, Brooch Pocket Clip-on Hanging Lapel Nurse Retractable Digital Watch, Pesronalised Customised Photo Calendar, Puma Unisex- Mesh Running Shoe.

Previous Next

1. Personalised customized photo Desk Calendar

Table top calendar (10in x 8in) calendar with photos best for home decor and gifting for christmas and new year and other parties and occasion. Personalised & Customised photo calendar Gifts for Nurses, Him, Her, Family Friends, Father, Mother, Sister, Brother, Couple, Spouse, Wife, Husband, Baby, Girlfriend, Boyfriend, Valentine's Day Loved Ones Birthday Anniversary Wedding & Marriage. Check Price at Amazon

2. Best Gift for Nurses Ceramic Coffee Mug or Tea Cup

Presenting high quality printed Ceramic Mugs with trending designs. Gift your loved ones and let them remember you when they sip their favorite drink. This mug is a wonderful gift for Appreciation, Joyful occasions. Check Price at Amazon

3. Milton Thermosteel Flip Lid Hot and Cold Flask 1000 ml Silver

Presenting thermosteel bottles with a unique flip lid that makes pouring completely hassle-free and spill-free for you! The lid of this flask doubles up as a cup for drinking. It not only keeps the water clean but also retains temperature for up to 24 hours. So it is not only ideal for carrying water but also for hot and cold beverages. Check Price at Amazon

4. Brooch Fob Pocket Clip-on Hanging Lapel Women's Nurse Retractable Digital Watch

Ideal nursing gift: Nice for home, school, office and bank. Safe bumpers and clip-on design make sure those watches could hang on a collar or pocket firmly, which is convenient to read time upside down, you don't need to take them off and not easy to lost them. Check Price at Amazon

5. Sterilizer Box Portable Cell Phone Sanitizer Disinfectant with Charging Slot

Sterilizer Device Also suitable gadgets iPods, mp3 players, Bluetooth earphones, watches, clothes such as underwear, socks, baby's toys, forks, knives, eye-glasses, toothbrush, keys, jewelry, and any makeup objects. Check Price at Amazon

6. Fitbit FB507RGPK Versa 2 Health & Fitness Smartwatch

Fitbit Versa 2 Bringing you fitbit versa 2—a water resistant smartwatch that elevates every moment with alexa built-in into it. Tracking 24/7 heart rate , Sleep Score,to better track calorie burn, optimize effort during workouts, see your resting heart rate trends and cardio fitness level in the fitbit app in a premium design. Check Price at Amazon

7. Big Bazaar Digital Voucher Flat 5% off at checkout

Every gifting occasion becomes perfect with a Big Bazaar gift voucher whether it’s a birthday, a housewarming, an anniversary or even a religious function. A day out shopping at Big Bazaar with a gift voucher will be an absolute treat. Check Price at Amazon

8. Croma Gift Card for International Nurses Day

Croma has always been dedicated towards giving its customers an easy and hassle-free access to best consumer electronics products. Croma Gift Card is a perfect gifting option for your loved ones to choose from categories such as Phones, Camera, Computers, Entertainment, Home Appliances, Kitchen Appliances, Gaming and Accessories. Check Price at Amazon

9. Puma Unisex-Adult Electron Street Eng Mesh Road Running Shoe

As one of the worlds leading sports brands, PUMA believes in standing on the same playing field as the fastest athletes on the planet. With a mission of Forever Faster, Puma shares excitement in Teamsports, innovates Golf, brings style into Running and Training and performance into Motorsports. Check Price at Amazon

10. 2 in 1 Wireless Caregiver System Emergency Care Alarm Call Button Nurse

2 in 1 Wireless Caregiver -Smart Personal Pager System Emergency Care Alarm Call Button Nurse Alert System -500+ft Operating Range Wireless Remote Nurse Alert System Patient Call Button and Caregiver. Check Price at Amazon Read the full article

1 note · View note

diveronaevents · 6 years ago

Photo

DATE: December 22nd

TIME: 19:00

LOCATION: Teatro Nuovo

TRIGGERS: death TW, suicide TW, gun TW, stabbing TW

The columns are illuminated by red light.

The carpet that is laid out is a deep, lush red.

All will drip in red.

Gods will bleed red, not ichor tonight.

They trickle into the Teatro Nuovo like stars falling from the sky, glittering and glistening against a backdrop of the lush dark sky, smiles on their faces -- and if not that, then sharp glances catching what cameras may turn their way. “Who is this new face?” some photographers whisper to one another. Why have they come on the arm of that poor soul? The reporters murmur under their breath as they try to piece together the audience the Witches have gathered for this grand event. The journalists and photographers line the way from the array of cars to the entrance of the austentatious theater, lights flashing and voices clamoring to be heard over one another, to get one of these revered, one of these envied of the city to give them the time of day. But these elite of the city know better than to let the press bother them, even the one known as IMOGEN knows better than to harken for something that will never come. Why ask for mercy from the stars when they know nothing else but how to burn themselves to ruins?

The cacophony of cameras, cars, and desperate calls all seem to muffle and hush as a man steps out of his limo gingerly, his stellina upon him like a shadow -- but instead of being a dark companion, she is one of light. She tucks herself against his side, brow pinching in concern, a fiercely proud smile on her face as he looked down at her, whispering some words for her and only her to hear. Tucking her arm into his, the two walk together, cameras flashing intermittently, but not as intrusively as before. Weakly, some dared to call for their attention. One tempered glare was all it took for the others to let their questions die on their lips. Following their steps was the capo bastone, her bright eyes glittering as she watched the pair precede her. Just before she stepped inside, just as everyone had turned away, the Capulet king took her hand in his. And in her wake the consigliere follows with her paramour beside her, eyes coldly taking in the scene before her, lingering here and there before meeting the gaze of the man who stood beside her.

Celestial bodies only bother to draw themselves closer to beings who are as great and wondrous as they believe themselves to be.

Great planets do not draw closer to passing comets or pay any mind to insignificant moons. They are pulled closer to grand stars. Bright suns.

Damiano steps out with a smile and the cameras turn towards him. He lifts his flask in greeting, followed by his son, whose smile is ever-ready. The shutter of the camera sounds as though they blow the beloved princeling of Verona kisses, the journalists calling his name -- smiling and laughing as they do. In a moment they had transformed, from hushed, awed creatures to larks, singing the praises of the king and the prince that shared the name Montague. Damiano clasped his son’s shoulder and Roman pauses, glancing up at him, a roguish grin stilling on his face before he looked towards the theater and ambled on, his father whispering in his ear with a smile on his face as he does. No one bothers to note how his hand quivers, how he quickly tucks it into his pocket as he strides away. Following the two men is the consigliere, who pays no mind to the heckles and bids for him to turn, to pose, to pause for some questions. All he does is glance up from his phone for one singular moment. They all hold their breath. He grins and shakes his head.

Forgive them, Father, for they know not what doom they won’t be able to bear witness to. What undoings the night will bring.

What paradise will be lost for everyone who thought to draw blood first.

______________

The seats are a lush velvet, a scarlet velvet -- plush and pristine. They are quickly filled with figures wearing Dolce and Gabbana, Gucci and Chanel, or fashions that might suitably pass as such for those who don’t have the budget to afford such decadence. The kings of the city sit mere feet from each other, separated only by those who shall take their place. A boy and a girl, really, both wearing crowns that are too big for them to bear the weight of. Crowns that sit slightly askew on their heads. Behind them, the seats are filled with those who followed them, some faces recognizable, others that are less so. Some families sit apart from one another, others close together, finding their strength in the numbers that they gathered around them. If one paid attention, too much attention, they might have noticed how Valentina seemed intent to not meet the gaze of a tattooed man who glanced at her every so often -- far too casually, far too fleetingly. As he does that though, a feminine figure watches him; cradling their hand, the youngest Daly child looks at them worriedly, protectively, with a determination that would not have been found in her a little more than a month ago.

Animosity hangs over them, glittering and gleaming like the chandelier above. Hanging.

Hanging.

Cascading light from above, to those below until all else dims and there is nothing left but the light upon the stage. There is a hush that befalls them all, for even these grand Veronans are subject to the enthrallment of being apart of an audience, of knowing that those who stand beneath the spotlight of the theater are about to put on a monumental show. Orpheus managed to ensnare the hearts of gods, was it really so difficult to believe that these actors managed to ensnare the hearts of Capulets and Montagues alike?

The narrator stands on the stage, eyes wide as he looks about at the audience, lips parting as he takes a breath and begins:

Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit

Of that forbidden tree whose mortal taste

Brought death into the World, and all our woe,

With loss of Eden, till one greater Man

Restore us…

And so begins the play that captures their whole, uninhibited attention. It is almost with a child-like, starry-eyed expression that they watch the play unfold, this adaption of the great poem by John Milton. The director had created it with innocent intentions, with nothing but an almost bacchanal passion -- swept away was she by the story of the fall of man and the devil who had been cast out of the Eden that was created for man to reside in. How tragic is it to know that even those created by God himself with the purest intentions are fallible in their nature. Have flaws in their reasoning.

But there are those who are not so enthralled, there are those in the audience who shift every so often, who hold tight to their phones, who glance at the Montague king who sits, happy to have a show put on for him, at his bidding, for once. It is not wholly unusual to be somewhat lost in a monologue, to check one’s phone every so often. But what is pulling them away from the magic of the theater? Behind the scenes, in the wings of the stage, ropes tighten, feet shift about nervously -- in the wings, darkness stirs. A man ambles about in the costume of a nondescript rebel angel, face painted to mark the curves of his face dramatically. He is the one who tightens the ropes with a smile, humming a quiet tune as he does. It seems as though the darkness does not touch him, he radiates only serenity, only light. Gold mars the corner of his lip. He hears the music of the orchestra pause and he looks up from his work, then quickly turns to the ropes, closing the curtains.

He turns to those who stand with him, quietly nodding. One, two, three.

The rebel angel feels his breath still in his chest from the excitement of it all, voice high and thin.

“It’s time for intermission.”

Some sit, some stand when the lights brighten again. Juliana turns to her father. Everett asks Mikael and Lucrezia if they need anything before going into the lobby. Marcelo watches, the muscle in their jaw jumping as they sit, still as a stone while Bellamy watches them, hand on their arm, murmuring quietly.

On the other end of the row, Brigette sits quietly, large blue eyes downcast, while Katarina stands with her arms crossed, listening to Delilah, nodding every so often. All heads turn towards the doors that leads to the lobby when a scuffle breaks out. There is little surprise when it turns out that Matthias Warren is grabbing Everett by the lapels of his jacket, seething and roaring like a bear enraged -- Orion immediately steps towards them both but Valentina is there before he can move, grabbing Matthias and hauling him back with Odin moving into help. The security of the theater descends upon both parties and Cosimo rises from his chair, watching. Observing. Then he glances at Damiano, who has risen as well. The Montague man wears a pinched brow, lips pressing together in fury, nostrils flaring and fists clenching. He was the picture of fury. A painting of it.

Vivianne and Rafaella glance at one another, eyes flickering towards the Montague men.

From the left wing of the stage there is a thump, a low groan followed by a light-hearted laughter. Alexander glances at Damiano, expression unreadable -- the elder man shrugs before sitting back down, this time with a glass of red wine in his hand. Cosimo stares. The Capulets slowly rise from their seats as their liege stills -- it is almost palpable, the tension. One would think that they would be stirred to movement, fingers twitching for weapons that aren’t there, but no, it is in the stillness that one sees their terror. The adrenaline filling them, stilling them, priming them.

But for what?

The answer comes in a sudden dimming of the lights, all heads turning towards the stage as the curtain lifts. The scene is set, the lights are bright and shining, yet the actors are not upon the stage. But the Witches are. They stand in the middle of the stage, upon chairs, Circe with bruises on their face and blood upon their lip. The rebel angel opens his arms grandly, striding across the stage to stand in its center while the audience watches on, too bewildered, too disbelieving to do anything other than stare.

“It is time, Verona,” he says, tears in his eyes, voice clear and firm. “It is time for us to throw off the shackles that have kept us from raging our true war, from ensuring the victory of one king or another. These Witches were our overseers, who thought that they were keeping the peace.”

The rebel angel’s finger points at them, the three siblings who had once been puppeteers. They are the ones now tied up with ropes and strings.

“We thought that they would keep Verona safe, that they would keep our people, our culture, our city from being turned into ruins. We believed in their fork-tongued lies. But tonight, we will be liberated from them, liberated from the war they perpetuate. Tonight, we will all be free.”

And with that, he turns to Medea and kicks the chair out from under them. A wretched noise follows.

Then he kicks the chair out from Circe.

Then Hecate.

Most are too horrified to notice the small glance he casts Damiano’s way, a smile painting his lips. With one small nod, the rebel angel bites down. The city of Verona would soon be free from the shackles that the Witches had put them in, perpetuating this way by keeping their version of peace and harmony. He would be free too.

The curtain falls upon the stage.

But Act II is only just beginning.

____________________________

It was PERDITA’s cry of horror that started it all. She tried to rush towards the stage to help them, to do something but she was stopped by KATHERINE who knew better than to move the bodies. There was evidence that could be found on them. But PERDITA did not see it as such, she wrestled away from KATHERINE who tried to hold her back. It isn’t until PERDITA accidentally clocks her that KATHERINE lets the woman get away.

VOLUMNIA looks at Cosimo and it is in that moment that they realize what is happening. The Montagues knew this was going to happen. They were going to make a move for the neutral territories. Without wasting a second, VOLUMNIA ushers Cosimo out, only to be stopped by CELIA who seeks to stop them. But it’s already too late, the kingpin is out but VOLUMNIA needs to give him more time to get away. The two women grapple, spitting and desperate for more blood on this day.

TITANIA goes to flee, cradling their injured hand, but they see CELIA and VOLUMNIA’s tussel. Before they can stop to think, they aid VOLUMNIA who seems about ready to put CELIA out of her misery. With one hand, TITANIA grabs CELIA by the hair and drags her back so that VOLUMNIA might aid others in their fight and rally the Capulets. But it’s at the cost of TITANIA’s well-being because, though they fought, CELIA manages to knock them down and re-enter the fray once more.

SEBASTIAN is quick to move, heading towards the exit, ushering Damiano towards it with MALCOLM. But EDMUND sees them, calls for ROSALINE’S attention and beats them to the door. MALCOLM quickly backtracks, ensuring that Damiano manages to get away while EDMUND proves his worth as a Capulet. He grabs SEBASTIAN and lets loose the bitterness in a fit of a flurry of fists. The Capulets are getting too caught up in the fight. They’re focusing on the details but missing the bigger picture.

EDGAR goes to help his brother, but it is of course, MALCOLM who stands in his way once more. But MALCOLM has bigger plans and EDGAR is easy to incapacitate. He’s weak from taking Measure by Measure, still wounded, just as MALCOLM is. The Montague man, however, has something to prove. In moments EDGAR is knocked out cold. Too bad Marcelo isn’t there to spit upon his unconscious body.

MERCUTIO is, instead, with ROMEO. As soon as they had seen the Witches’ bodies swing, they had rushed to their friend’s side, trying to get him out of the fray before a bullet reached him. The two get separated in the rush of bodies and MERCUTIO finds himself facing CASSIUS. They smirk because they know that this should be an easy thing to do, even weakened and tortured they knew how to make bones break. But before they can deliver a crushing blow to CASSIUS, CORIOLANUS stops them, grappling with them before grabbing CASSIUS and running away.

Perhaps he means to find MIRANDA but she is cornered by BENVOLIO. He does not look as though he means to hurt her, but now isn’t the time to let emotions get in the way -- MIRANDA knows this. It is time to prove herself to the Capulets and prove her worth. He looks as though he means to escape the fray but in one quick move she has him on the ground and she flees only to find EDGAR on the floor. She tries to revive him.

The moment ROSALINE had seen VOLUMNIA take Cosimo, she had grabbed JULIET with ORSINO at her side. But then she saw some Montagues rush towards the exit and had left ORSINO to guard her instead. When she leapt from the stage and rushed towards them, ORSINO had taken JULIET to the wings so that they might make an obscure exit. Waiting for them, however, was ANTONY -- and with him was MALCOLM. JULIET and ORSINO are backed into a corner. There is no means of escape.

ROMEO has nearly made it towards the exit, but then he looks back at the chaos that has ensued. He rushes to help MERCUTIO but REGAN steps in front of him. She’s a little bored by this all, so she decides to make it a game. She lets him get closer and closer to his friend before maneuvering him two steps back. Why not mark him up while they’re at it? It is not until CRESSIDA sneaks up on her that she finds herself breaking a sweat, the two ganging up on her.

CORDELIA sees her sister in trouble, sees how MIRANDA and EDGAR need her, but she knows that she is closer to her sister than anyone else. She throws herself into the fray, finding herself pitted against ROMEO while the world crashed down upon them. She has no other choice but to remind them all that she is a CAPULET and nothing will stand in between her and her family. Not even ROMEO himself. At least now REGAN has CRESSIDA, broken at her feet.

VIOLA had seen the Capulet principessa and ORSINO disappear and made to follow. Under the guise of helpfulness, she might be able to make this all the more easy for ANTONY. However, PERDITA stands in her way -- and the look in her eyes tells VIOLA that she thinks she will have her vengeance tonight. Though PERDITA has no weapon, she knows that it doesn’t take much to break someone. To make them suffer. And VIOLA can’t help the unease and fear that creeps into her heart.

It had taken awhile for BEATRICE to get her bearings. But she tried to help who she could before finally spotting the woman who had tried to murder her. Maybe now she would be able to sleep a little more soundly if she knew that this woman wouldn’t be able to hurt her anymore. Before BEATRICE could get to LADY MACBETH, she found herself face to face with DESDEMONA. This was DESDEMONA’s chance to prove to the Capulets that she was something of worth. That she belonged with them. If shedding BEATRICE’s blood was the way to do it, then so be it.

MACBETH and LADY MACBETH knew that they shouldn’t have come tonight, but everyone answers the call of the Witches regardless. The moment they had watched their bodies swings, MACBETH had taken note of who he could drag to the exits with him -- but then the fighting had ensued. HAMLET had seen them, recognized LADY MACBETH and made a move to stop them. MACBETH was knocked down, but in his cast he had hidden a small pistol. He did not hesitate for a moment when he watched HAMLET make a grab for his wife. He pulled the trigger.

OPHELIA heard the gunshot. She rushed to find him, to aid him, but her way is stopped by KATHERINE. She thinks that this will be quick and easy but OPHELIA has her claws at the ready. With her desperation and a little bit of luck, she manages to incapacitate KATHERINE and tries to make a get away before the other woman can follow.

BIANCA grabs OPHELIA before she can see if HAMLET is alive. BIANCA and OPHELIA claw at each other, keen to draw blood, and it is more a battle of wills than anything. They are both broken in their own way, desperate to right the wrongs that have been done against them. But it is BIANCA who manages to call victory, with OPHELIA rushing away, desperate to put a stop to the blood that seeps from her wounds.

QUEEN MAB had grabbed OLIVIA as soon as she realized what was happening. This was not their war to fight, they were merely trying to outlast it. But ROSALIND knew that no one could leave here whole. It is not difficult for ROSALIND to separate QUEEN MAB from OLIVIA and it was made all the more easy when OLIVIA disappeared. There was no one but ROSALIND and QUEEN MAB. No one would help either of them now.

IMOGEN had grabbed OLIVIA in a desperate attempt to see an innocent life saved. This wasn’t their fight, she told them. They owed nothing to no one. But in her desperation IMOGEN hadn’t realized that OLIVIA was fighting against her, trying to get back to QUEEN MAB. The two argue in quick words and grappling hands before IMOGEN sees CRESSIDA unconscious. She rushes to help her while OLIVIA makes her escape.

ROSALINE grabbed OTHELLO to aid her in getting to the open territories before the Montagues did. MALCOLM, however, had other plans. After incapacitating ORSINO, he thought it would be smart to do the same to OTHELLO. OTHELLO tells ROSALINE to go as he engages MALCOLM, the two warriors evenly matched in strength, but one with more skill than the other. In no time OTHELLO has MALCOLM in his grip and chokes him out.

Just as ANTONY slips backstage, elbow locked around a slender neck as he dragged JULIET along. He had the pieces lined up all along, and they easily slide into place as he sends VOLUMNIA a message meant to seal her fate. And that, it does -- in her fear for the young heiress, VOLUMNIA doesn’t hesitate before obeying the message and making her way backstage. It was a trap, and it ends with a knife pressed to the hilt into VOLUMNIA’s gut and a choked up scream as JULIET ran to her side.

JULIET grabs VOLUMNIA but EDGAR is there, picking her up and rushing her out, pressing his hand to the wound while JULIET follows. After a quick exchange with her cousin, OTHELLO grabs ROSALINE and drags her out of the theater to go stop the Montagues that they could. BEATRICE finds a bloodied ANTONY and aides him in making a hasty escape through the chaos. They come across ROMEO and pull him along, making their way towards the exit while ANTONY tells the tale of the vengeance that’s been exacted. They leave nothing but blood and crimson smoke in their wake.

The curtain has closed on Act I.

There will be no intermission.

This is the beginning of Act II.

OVERVIEW: This much all of Verona knows: Damiano Montague orchestrated the death of the Witches because he was tired of them holding the bombing and all of his other sins against him. He didn’t like being a puppet tied to their strings. If he hadn’t been, he would have taken his vengeance upon the Capulets far earlier. An Underboss for an Underboss. The Montagues managed to successfully take Hotel Emelia under the command of RONAN IVARSSON and TRINITY CRUYSSEN, but Rafaella and Odin managed to keep the Twelfth Night Museum out of their hands for now. Other territories are open for the taking -- Verona is starting to realize just how many properties the Witches had owned -- and it’s a matter of grabbing them first and keeping them. There is no longer any neutral territory that can act as a sanctuary.

Feel free to thread out the fight scenes and, if you wish for more action, throw your characters into more of the frays as well. Please date all threads now from December 22nd through February 1st. Keep in mind that your character will likely be recovering from their injuries throughout this time, depending on how serious they are. Keep in mind the most important detail of this all: all of Verona will be split and divided now. As it originally was. As it was always meant to be.

#act 1 scene 8 #diveronaevent #death tw #suicide tw #knife tw

12 notes · View notes