#Datura Stramonium

[t-hornapple]

A poster for datura. Pen and ink on paper + photoshop.

[banefolk]

Coloured engravings of the poisonous plants datura, henbane, and hemlock from American Medical Botany: Being a Collection of the Native Medicinal Plants of the United States by Jacob Bigelow, 1817.

Source: New York Public Library

[brujerizzzmo]

datura stramonium

[haliotis94]

Laminas Botánicas: Datura stramonium "Estramonio"

[chaos-draws]

#7 Inktober 2024

Stechapfel, Datura (Thornapple) Datura stramonium;

The seeds where used as a druck to get hallucinated, the wrong dosage can lead to agression, arrhythmia, delirium and even death! DO NOT EAT! Even touching the spiky fruits can cause dermatitis, nausea and headaches and cramps. The blossoms are a pretty view but it should not be kept as an plant if you have children or animals.

[elvthron]

Casual encounters in Berlin’s airport 🤍

[thecryptandtheincubus]

{{VENDU}}

ᗫᕔꞆꚶɌᕔ ꕷꞆɌᕔᙏꗞᙁĬꚶᙏ άλφα

HERBARIUM : Datura Stramoine (Datura Stramonium)

LIEU DE CUEILLETTE : fort de Huy (Belgique)

[vacantwoodsenthusiast]

Not me leaving my garden for 7 weeks only to come home and find I accidentally successfully grew Datura stramonium from seeds I thought were dead. They need a reporting and some love but holy crap yall weren't joking when you said these things were tough plants

[jptattooart]

Datura stramonium . . . #datura #daturastramonium #daturametel #flowertattoo #daturatattoo #tattooart #flowertattoo #flowerstattoo #tattooart #tattooartwork #tattooartist #tattooist #tattooer #tattoodesign #inked #asianinkandart #instatattoo #instattoo #tattoodaily #hktattoo #tattoohk #hktattooartist #hktattooshop #hongkongtattoo #香港紋身 #紋身 #刺青 #曼陀羅 #花 #독말풀꽃

[thebotanicalarcade]

n67_w1150 by Biodiversity Heritage Library Via Flickr: The instructive picture book, or, Lessons from the vegetable world Edinburgh :Edmonston & Douglas, 87 Princes Street,1858. biodiversitylibrary.org/page/59644154

[thebotanicalarcade]

The wikipedia page for this plant is one of the best things I have ever stumbled upon.

One of the common names is "devil's cucumber."

From the wikipedia page-

In the United States the plant is called "jimsonweed", or more rarely "Jamestown weed" deriving from the town of Jamestown, Virginia, where English soldiers consumed it while attempting to suppress Bacon's Rebellion. They spent 11 days in altered mental states:

The James-Town Weed (which resembles the Thorny Apple of Peru, and I take to be the plant so call'd) is supposed to be one of the greatest coolers in the world. This being an early plant, was gather'd very young for a boil'd salad, by some of the soldiers sent thither to quell the rebellion of Bacon (1676); and some of them ate plentifully of it, the effect of which was a very pleasant comedy, for they turned natural fools upon it for several days: one would blow up a feather in the air; another would dart straws at it with much fury; and another, stark naked, was sitting up in a corner like a monkey, grinning and making mows [grimaces] at them; a fourth would fondly kiss and paw his companions, and sneer in their faces with a countenance more antic than any in a Dutch droll. In this frantic condition they were confined, lest they should, in their folly, destroy themselves—though it was observed that all their actions were full of innocence and good nature. Indeed, they were not very cleanly; for they would have wallowed in their own excrements if they had not been prevented. A thousand such simple tricks they played, and after eleven days returned themselves again, not remembering anything that had passed.

— Robert Beverley, Jr., The History and Present State of Virginia, Book II: Of the Natural Product and Conveniencies in Its Unimprov'd State, Before the English Went Thither, 1705

The datura and it’s lore – these are the dark variant and curiosities prints from my March herbologist rewards 🌟🌛 this spiky little plant is one of the original witches weeds, used in poisonings and potions throughout history!

[swimmingcreatortyrant]

Well, let's start 🃏🙌🃏

[luc3]

Again, you highlight my path, Stramonium!

Hiking near the "Château de Terrebasse."

Wherever I am, You are. Your subtle message was well heard, Stramonium 🖤

[whumpbug]

whumperless whump event day 5: stealing my breath (give it back) @whumperless-whump-event

wheezing / light-headed

see this post for character information!

caretaker: Cassidy

whumpee: Gene

genuinely decided while writing this about gene having asthma. it flares up in situations like this or when he's sick. Good Whump Content......

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Sometimes, Gene wondered how people lived before having horses.

This sucked.

He silently cursed Sheriff Caufield for being the lazy bastard he was.

Gene was responsible for tracking down and arresting some members of Montana’s gang that had robbed a train car about 2 days ago. Rumor had it that the gang splintered off in order to hide, and were going to regroup in just a week. That meant it was now or never to try and find some of the more notorious offenders and lock them up for good.

The trouble was that the particular lead Gene had been sent to follow was up a complicated and winding mountain trail.

Now, Calliope was a very well trained and easy-going horse. That did not mean that she was scare-proof. If something startled her up there on the trail, and she bucked Gene off, the chance of him falling right down the side of the mountain was too high for comfort. 

So, he was forced to foot it up the steep trail.

And it was miserable.

Gene considered himself a fit man. He sort of had to be, with his line of work and all. Still, he was not this fit and he felt seconds away from toppling over on this damn hike.

One foot in front of the other. Come on, Delaney.

He used a stray root as a handle and hoisted himself up over a small ledge for what felt like the millionth time. He started to wonder if he was even going the right way.

He stole a quick glance at the sun and saw that it had hardly moved from the last time he checked.

He groaned.

Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to sit for a few moments. The smoke trail he’d been following had been steadily growing closer. If he rested now, he’d probably feel right as rain once he barged into the makeshift camp, and he’d probably perform a whole lot better too.

Without giving it too much more thought, he plunked down against a large rock to give himself some semblance of coverage, tilting his head back and trying to catch his breath.

Apparently, it was easier said than done.

Unfortunately, the unceremonious way he lowered himself to the ground kicked up dust all around him, and it was quickly becoming harder and harder to breathe around the particles.

Also, for some reason, his panting wasn’t seeming to slow down. On the contrary, his breathing only seemed to become more erratic.

He suddenly paled when a thought crossed his mind.

When he was a little boy, he remembered being rushed to the doctor after he caught a cold once. He had been struggling to breathe, and his mother didn’t know what else to do.

The doctor had told them that it had been something called an asthma attack. He said that Gene would likely outgrow it, but to be careful, because under the right circumstances, he could always relapse.

This sure as hell seemed like the "right circumstances". 

Gene scrambled to sit up, thumping at his chest with a fist in an attempt to get some air.  Strangled coughs left his mouth, returning as grating wheezes. He would have cursed if he could. 

He tried to cough again, he tried to do anything that would open his airways somehow, but it was no use. It felt like he was breathing through a straw-- like his body was simply going through the motions of inhaling without taking in any air.

He silently wondered if this was how he was going to die. There was no one around for miles except the very group of people that wanted him dead. The odds didn’t seem to be in his favor.

Still, he struggled valiantly for oxygen as black dots danced around his vision. He suddenly felt the strange sensation of his entire body tingling. He wheezed harder.

••••

“I’m gonna go check if there's anything useful down the mountain. I ain't gonna be far. Holler if you hear anything,” Cassidy called out, tucking his revolver into his hip holster and beginning down the rough trail.

The gang’s current situation was… less than ideal. The train job had gone south, and Montana made the quick decision to have everyone split up.

Cassidy ended up with mostly the women and children. He supposed Montana wanted someone he trusted with the less skilled gunslingers.

That was Montana; always thinking two steps ahead. If he trusted Cassidy enough to take care of all these people, then by God he was gonna do it.

And that started with investigating the strange sound coming from down the trail.

Cassidy hadn’t said anything earlier. He didn’t want to scare the little ones, but he was quite certain there was a dying bobcat or coyote or something just a few minutes down, and there was no way in hell he was gonna let it near his camp.

He carefully skidded down a ledge and hopped onto a little patch of dirt. The sound was getting louder now, and he reached a hand down to his hip.

He whipped out his gun as he rounded the corner, aiming it towards the sound and--

In front of him was, in fact, not a dying animal, but the last person Cassidy had expected (or wanted) to see.

And something was very wrong.

Gene was leaned back against a rock, hands clutching frantically at his chest. His eyes were wide and panicked, blinking rapidly as if trying to clear his vision. The worst part, though, were the sickly wheezes and gasps that left him. His lips were tinged pale blue as he fought for every breath he took.

“Shit, Delaney,” Cassidy hissed, crashing to his knees beside the deputy. Deft hands quickly unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt as Cassidy yanked him up to a sitting position.

Cassidy knew what this was. He was no stranger to these kinds of attacks. One of the younger boys in the gang had severe asthma as well. Cassidy was in charge of periodically stealing asthma cigarettes from the doctor when they went into town and--

Right. The box must be at camp.

“Alright, stay right here. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Gene’s eyes flashed with fear, a plea of “don’t leave me.” Another high-pitched wheeze escaped his lips, almost sounding like a word.

“S’lver,” Gene managed, trying to grab at his wrist.

“I know, I know. I’m gonna help. I ain’t gonna leave you. Just gimme a second, would ya?” He huffed, before sprinting away.

Ms. Holly, one of the mothers at camp, stepped forward when she saw Cassidy running to her tent like a maniac.

“Now just what exactly did you see out there-- what are you doing going through my boy’s stuff?!”

“Can’t talk,” was all Cassidy could manage before emerging with the box of cigarettes.

Her further questions were cut off by Cassidy bolting out and back down the mountain.

“Now what in the hell was that about?” She murmured.

Cassidy practically flew down the mountain this time, not caring about watching his step. He found Gene easily, but noted with horror that his wheezes were quieter now-- they were weaker. 

“You’re gonna owe me big time, cowboy,” Cassidy remarked, sparking up his lighter and lighting one of the medicated cigarettes.

Gene was flagging now, eyes glassy and unfocused. He hardly even reacted to Cassidy kneeling beside him and propping him up once again.

Cassidy carefully pressed the cigarette to Gene’s lips, stabilizing him with a gentle hand on his chest.

“C’mon, y’damn idiot, you gotta puff,” Cassidy urged, patting Gene’s chest lightly.

Gene coughed slightly, and attempted to do as he was told. He took a small, sputtering drag of the cigarette, coughing at the bitter taste of the smoke.

“Good, that’s real good. I know it tastes as foul as sin, but it’ll help you. Just keep goin’” Cassidy soothed, his voice surprisingly gentle.

After a few more choked drags from the cigarettes, the color began to return to Gene’s face. He was still wheezing, but he felt like he was actually taking some air in instead of just spasming. 

Cassidy hadn’t noticed that his hand was rubbing up and down the deputy’s spine the entire time.

When Gene's airways finally opened up enough to take a full breath, he collapsed listlessly against Cassidy, panting for sweet oxygen. He looked utterly spent.

“S’lver,” He coughed, reaching up to catch his wrist. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it." His eyes flitted up in the direction of the camp. "I assume this means you’ll turn a blind eye to this?”

Gene nodded, letting his eyes fall shut. He didn’t give a damn what the sheriff would say, he was just grateful to be alive.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[lettersfrombeachhead]

equally funny is that although datura is illegal as fuck in the UK, it has no regulation whatsoever in the US because it's just a native flower. there's a datura bush growing on my college campus. it's sufficiently obscure that nobody knows what the hell it is, except for me, known weirdo, who did a double take when i walked past the CLEARLY-RECOGNIZABLE DEATH HALLUCINATION SHADOW PEOPLE FLOWER BUSH in an otherwise mundane setting.

Datura is the funniest drug in the world. Literally zero positive qualities. Repurted to have a low risk of addiction because nobody wants to do that shit twice

[a-dotrivenitupontop]

watching the s1 murderer reveal for the 25629742184038th time:

watching the s2 murderer reveal for the 1st time: