#burnt ficus

[burntficus]

my awesome original AU where Betty's wish to "save Simon" is interpreted by GOLB a little differently and instead of her fusing with GOLB, Simon gets turned into a worm

she definitely still loves him ::)

commissions are open! I really need some money for fixing up a mental health related issue so any support is really appreciated ::(

[cumulo-stratus]

01- Lover

pairing- Spencer Reid x Male!reader summary- slow burn story of how spencer reid fell in love with Y/n L/n warnings- profanities, some arguing, lemme know if theres anything else! wc- 2k

a/n- Guys!! im so excited about this idea, orginally it was going to be short blurbs for each time all in one fic but i got carried away and its turned into a series now. And i know im still a little behind on Flufftober ficus but i needed to take a break from writing things to fit a prompt, i was feeling kinda creatively burnt out from it so i just wanted to write something off the top of my head and the song came on my headphones and then i blacked out and here we are lmao, hope you like it! (P.S. so much credit to @avis-writeshq for the inspo around some of it , totally a great writer and you should totally go check them out!)

Notes: (E/C) = Eye color | (H/T) = hair type (curly, wavy, thick, thin etc.)

part 1//part 2

spencer stepped onto the same train he took every morning; the green line for 5 stops, and the red line for 1 after that. Spencer prefers his first leg of the journey though- but thats only because of The Boy. Who’s The Boy, you ask? Well, The Boy is a man on the train, and this man on the train spencer had seen everyday for last 6 months. everyday, 1 stop after spencer gets on The Boy would get on. He would sit in the same seat near the back, put his olive green backpack between his legs, and put his headphones in his ears. he would sit, one leg crossed over the other and read anything from Poe to Austen.

Spencer always stared, now to be fair The Boy was very naturally handsome. He had striking (E/C) eyes, and (H/T) hair. His style often resembled spencers, slacks and button ups with cardigans and sweater vests, The Boy tended to lean towards more bright colors ad fun patterns then spencer.

Today, spencer noticed he had started a new book; A Collected Works of Edgar Allen Poe. Yesterday he had been reading a book on the history of witch craft, spencer thought it went well with the the witch hats and black cats on his knitted sweater, very fitting for October he may add.

And once again spencer was staring (nothing out of the ordinary) but today The Boy looked up at just the right time and caught spencer in the act. He immediately looked down, blushing profusely. But if he had looked back for another second spencer wouldve seen The boys sly smirk, and the slight tinge of warmth on his cheeks. Spencer decided the best possible course of action was to pretend nothing had happened and bury his silent admiration of the mystery boy on the train. But that plan was thrown completely out the window when The mystery boy got up from his seat, picked up his bag and plopped down next to spencer in an open plastic seat. Because little did spencer know but The Boy had done his own fair share of staring at spencer from afar, admiring his natural beauty and book choice. He had been toying with the notion of finally approaching this mystery man, and this was the final push he needed to approach spencer.

“so, you like Poes works?”

spencer looked up to find The Boy looking at him expectedly with a friendly smile. The same boy he had fantasized over for almost 6 months but never even thought of approaching, had just walked up to him and started a conversation.

spencers mind was reeling, to say the least.

but he still managed to squeak out “Yes, he’s one of my favorites” But add in a dash of stuttering and blushing. What can i say? It was an awkward interaction for and awkward guy. But this didnt deter The Boy, who then lit up at spencers words (which also caught spencer off guard and left him reeling for a moment) and said “Me too! but my favorite has to be ‘Annabel Lee’, everyone thinks its the documentation of a man going insane over his obsession with a girl named Annabel Lee. But i personally think its just a guy who’s madly in love, and people are a little jealous of the pure, intense type of love that Poe was writing about..” The boy looked down and blushed, trailing off. spencer looked at him confused and with a surge of confidence said “what-?” with confusion. The boy looked back up, almost surprised at spencers words, at spencers encouragement. This said encouragement gave him the confidence needed to say “im sorry, i realized i was rambling to a stranger on the train and i didnt even introduce myself; Im dr. Y/n L/n, whats your name? Spencer chuckled to himself at how who he now knew as Y/n, managed to say so many words in so little time. “I also have a habit of talking too fast when im nervous, sorry about that” Y/n added, taking care to speak at a slower pace. Spencer didnt mind it and was mostly focused on the fact that Y/n was nervous, did spencer make Y/n nervous? but he wasnt caught up in his thoughts for too long and remembered to respond to Y/ns question “its okay, i ramble a lot too, i dont mind. And im spencer. Dr. Spencer reid-“ spencer cut himself off to finally look at y/n before continuing- “but im not a medical doctor, I have doctorates in Math, Chemistry and Engineering.”

Y/n had an almost proud smile on his face, And said “wow, smart cookie!” his tone was joking of course but spencer still blushed profusely, despite his many attempts to stop it. Y/n continued, not noticing spencers flushed state, much to spencer’s relief. “Im not a medical doctor either though, i have PHDs in both math and physics. I always thought i was above average, but ive been outdone!” Y/ns tone was joking as he said it.

They continued their introductory conversation for another couple minutes when Spencer, in an effort to keep the conversation going, had asked what Y/n was listening to.

“im listening to Ours, by taylor swift, and im not a swiftie, im a taylor swift enjoyer.” Y/n said with a definitive tone. But spencer only looked at Y/n with confusion written across his features. “Whats a- swiftie…?” spencer asked. Y/ns faced seemed to almost drain of color at this statement. “Whats a swiftie?!” his tone was incredulous, as if spencer had committed some heinous act, which he was pretty sure he hadn’t. “swifties are people who thoroughly enjoy the music of none other than the greatest pop musician of all time!” spencer was a little embarrassed, he didnt want to miss out on something Y/n enjoyed so he held his hand out and asked, “maybe i could listen to it with you, and learn about her music?” Y/n grinned at the idea, and handed spencer one of his airpods and restarted the song.

and so for the rest of their train ride, they listened Y/n’s taylor swift playlist. But After hearing Ours, it remained his favorite.

And so, for the next few weeks it continued on like this. Y/n would get on the train at spencers first stop, and B-line straight to the back of the train where spencer had saved a seat for him. And then they would sit and talk, about anything from literature, to art, to science. But one thing always remained; Taylor Swift. Everyday Y/n would have a new collection of song for him to listen to on his airpods as they talked. But Ours still remained his ever favorite, although Cardigan and Willow were close seconds.

Today, however, was different. Today, after much encouragement and much teasing, spencer was going to ask Y/n out. His team couldnt deal with anymore gushing about Y/n, the guy from the train.

spencer waited impatiently for Y/n to step onto the train at his stop. He almost missed and almost ran into at least 2 people on the way to his seat. Y/n plopped down into his seat breathlessly and started his normal routine of pulling out his airpods and queuing up the music. But he was stopped in his tracks, the airpod he was about to offer to spencer, when the latter blurted out “Hey would you maybe wanna go get coffee with me on Saturday afternoon at perfectos?” Spencer had spoken so fast Y/n barely caught it. But he was amazed at spencers attention to detail. Y/n had never even told him he liked perfectos cafe (he was of the firm belief that they made the best coffee in DC). He had just walked in with a cup of coffee from them almost everyday. It made his heart swell at the gesture, and his cheeks redden at spencers question.

that reminded Y/n to answer, instead of just sitting there wide eyed like a deer in headlights. And said; “i’d love that spencer, thank you”

spencer had been so caught up in his thoughts, and worries over the words that had just spilled from his lips moments ago that he was caught off guard at Y/n’s positive response. They both beefed at each other like children for the rest of the ride until Y/n got off, and not even when spencer arrived for work could he wipe the smile off his face, much to the delight of Morgan and JJ.

To Be Continued…

[arunparia]

Tamarind Tree

Those were the impeccable times.

Thatched roof home, cow-dung veneered verandah stretched from the shallow pond to the phani manasa shrub.

Grandmother appearing. Two brinjals in hand. Two khadus on two wrists. Jingling. Ironly cuffs.

Said, "These are yours now — two young cows, you Badua! Take them to the grazing field. Protect them from Pashupati the bull. Collect dung in an iron pail.

We will not cut anymore this year a tamarind tree.

Only dry coconut shells, chaffs, cow dung cakes to boil cauldrons of paddy.”

The two brinjals were burnt the same night on the embers of a two-mouth chuli. Their violet skins peeled off, revealing mouth watering meat.

The same year, my grandmother peed on the verandah. On the mud it had made she slid, to break her forehead against her iron arm.

The vaidya prescribed a Chandrayan.

"Scant virtue, woman, too much phlegm! Yet, your silly heart beats!" He roared kindly.

Crooked lips — red eyes — three aunts circled in from their in-laws’ by noon —

At nightfall, we downed a tamarind tree.

Glossary:

Phani Manasa: Indian prickly pear tree, Opuntia ficus-indica. Khadus: Thick bangles. Badua: The head of a village (affectionately used). Chuli: An oven made by digging a hole in the ground. Vaidya: An ayurvedic doctor. Chandrayan: A Hindu ritual to wash off the sins of one who is soon to be deceased.

(The poem was first published in the Sahitya Akademi's ‘Indian Literature’ #326 in December, 2022)

[sassquatchdwitch]

I’m very self conscious, cuz I burnt out violently and imploded years ago, but I’m trying to make things again. I have to relearn and i just want to chip away at this project with kindness to myself.

This is the first concept drawing for my Inuyasha Merfolk AU. This is as done as it’s gonna get, I have piles more doodles. The story is set in a small island town in the 70’s and Kagome is an apprentice ama diver. Here, she’s just accidentally unsealed Inuyasha and beholds her first merman.

I love that there’s a few other IY merfolk AU ficus out there. I hope it flourishes into its own little micro genre.

I’ve been researching the ancient occupation of ama divers to the best of my ability, but I am very NOT an expert. I’ve always had a fascination with free diving and this ancient occupation is no exception, so I want to show it respect in my work. I super encourage anyone curious to look up ama as well as Korean diving women, haenyeo.

[thegrapeandthefig]

Yet another list of historically attested offerings

This is a list of botanical burnt remains found in several temples including:

Sanctuary of Apollo and Artemis, Kalapodi, 10th-9th c. B.C. “Pilier des Rhodies”,

Delphi, 8th-7th c. B.C.

Samian Heraion, 7th c. B.C.

Sanctuary of Demeter and Kore, 5th c. B.C.

Roman Palaimonion, Pit A A.D. 50-100 Palaimonion, Pit C, late 2nd-early 3rd c. B.C.

Heroon of Messene 3rd c. BC

the "x" originally indicates where said remains have been found, I left them in as an indication of frequency.

Cereals

Wheat (Triticum sp) x x x x x x

Barley (Hordeum vulgare) x x x x

Cereal cakes

Legumes

Lentil (Lens culinaris) x x x x x

Fava bean (Vicia faba) x

Pea (Pisum sativum) x x x

Grass pea (Lathyrus sativus) xx x

Chickpea (Cicer arietinum) x

Ervil/bitter betch (Vicia ervilia) xx x

Fruits and nuts

Olives (Olea sp) x x x x

Grape (Vitis vinifera) xx x x

Fig (Ficus carica) x xx x x

Pomegranate (Punica granatum) x x x x x

Apple (Malus sylvestris/Domestica) x

Walnut (Juglans regia) - not found in Greek temples but found in Italian ones.

Hazelnut (Corylus avellana) x

Chestnut (Castanea sativa) x

Almond (Amygdalus communis) x

Date (Phoenix dactylifera) x

Pine (Pinus pinea - bracts and nuts) x x

Oak (Quercus sp - acorns) x x

Quince (Cydonia oblonga) x

Watermelon (Citrullus lanatus) x

Melon (Cucumis melo) x

Pistachio (Pistacia sp) x

Poppy seeds (Papaver somniferum) x x x

Basically: people offered what they had, lists like those are best used as inspiration if you don't know what to offer and informative purposes.

Source: Megaloudi, F. Burnt sacrificial plant offerings in Hellenistic times: an archaeobotanical case study from Messene, Peloponnese, Greece. Veget Hist Archaeobot 14, 329–340 (2005). https://doi.org/10.1007/s00334-005-0083-x

[at0mbehaiku]

Bleeding, receding

Gums wither away like leaves

On frost burnt ficus

[madpanda75]

“Our First Holiday”

The wonderful @obsessionprofessional​ requested a fic where the reader celebrates Hanukkah with Rafael. Yes, I know Hanukkah is over...but better late than never, amiright? 🤷🏻‍♀️ ❤️ Also I’m Catholic and Latina, in my book the holidays are in full swing until Three Kings’ Day (I’m milking this, work with me😉).

You laid on the couch with your feet propped up on Rafael’s lap, your body melting into the cushions. The light emitted from the TV cast a glow across the darkened living room. Half-empty Chinese takeout cartons littered the coffee table. It was the perfect night in, a rarity as of late, due to yours and Rafael’s hectic work schedules.

You flipped through the channels, settling on a cheesy holiday movie. Just when the big city heroine meets the small town hunky mailman, your phone began to buzz. You groaned and covered your head with the pillow. “If that’s the hospital, tell them I’m not here.”

Rafael laughed and picked up your phone from the table. “It’s your mom,” he said, checking the screen.

“That’s even worse,” you whined. “I have to tell her that we can’t make it for Hanukkah. I’ve been stalling, trying to avoid her Jewish guilt trip.”

“Your mom should meet up with my mom. She’s the queen of Catholic guilt. Together they could rule the world.” He pulled the pillow from your face and waved the still buzzing phone at you.” I don’t think you can avoid it anymore, mi amor.”

You sighed in defeat and took the phone from Rafael. After a lengthy conversation, including several not so subtle hints about getting married, (“A spring wedding would be absolutely beautiful.”) and having babies (“I just want to hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet before I die.”), you finally hung up with your mom. Tossing the phone on the coffee table, you flopped back down on the couch.

“How’d it go?” Rafael asked.

You shrugged. “Not as bad as I thought it would be. She understands that I have to be at the hospital. It’s the holidays, a lot of household accidents this time of year,” you said, nudging him with your foot.

You went back to watching the movie while Rafael began to massage the soles of your feet. He glanced your way, noticing a slight change to your demeanor. There was a sadness to your expression that you tried to mask. “Are you ok?”

“I guess I’m kinda bummed about not being with my family for Hanukkah. I mean, they drive me absolutely crazy. Believe me I’ve spent many a Hanukkah hiding in the bathroom, drinking scotch out of a flask.” Rafael snorted a laugh at the image of you hiding out in the tub while nursing a drink. “But this year is different. It’s our first time celebrating the holidays together.” You sat up and took his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks between your palms. “I just wanted to show off my sexy brilliant Cuban lawyer boyfriend to my bubbe.”

“Does your bubbe also smush faces?” He asked through pursed lips.

You giggled and let go of his face. “No, she’s a cheek pincher.”

Rafael pulled you onto his lap, planting a soft kiss to your lips. “I know things at work are crazy right now, but I promise we’ll see your family soon. I’ll even drink in the bathroom with you,” he teased.

“It is a rite of passage,” you replied. “Ok, let’s finish this movie. I have to know if the girl ends up with the hot mailman in the town that perpetually celebrates Christmas or if she’ll go back to her cold meaningless existence back in the city.”

Rafael rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, I’m on the edge of my seat.”

You playfully elbowed him in the rib cage before resting your head on his shoulder. Wrapping an arm around you, he kissed the crown of your head as you both focused on the TV screen.

*****

Later on that night, Rafael tossed and turned in bed while you were sleeping peacefully beside him. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of the city outside when he felt you stir beside him.

 “CBC, BMP, and LFTs were negative,” you mumbled in your sleep.

He grinned and gently moved a strand of hair away from your face. Due to being short-staffed at the hospital, you had been bending over backwards, taking double and sometimes even triple shifts. You were wearing yourself ragged. It broke Rafael’s heart to see you like this, but he understood how important your work was. Just like he was dedicated to his cases, you were dedicated to your patients.

Rafael didn’t think he believed in love at first sight, that is until he bumped into you while picking up his mail. You were new to the building, having just moved back to New York from volunteering with Doctors Without Borders.

After your initial encounter, he thought of every excuse in the book to “accidentally” bump into you— the mysterious woman in 27G. Rafael was sure you thought he was borderline diabetic based on how many cups of sugar he borrowed.

After months of flirty banter in the elevator or passing each other in the hallway, he finally worked up the courage to ask you out for a cup of coffee. Coffee quickly morphed into dating and a year later, you and Rafael were living together.

As he watched you sleep, an idea came to him. Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he quickly and quietly sent two emails, one to Carmen and one to your mother before turning his phone off and settling back into bed. If you couldn’t come home for Hanukkah, then Rafael was going to bring Hanukkah home to you.

*****

You were a zombie dressed in scrubs, trudging towards your apartment. It had been a rough day at the hospital. All you wanted was to strip, have a long hot bath, and collapse into bed. Fate; however, had different plans for you.

The minute you opened the door, you were greeted with the smell of burning oil. You followed the smell into the kitchen and gasped. Pots and pans covered the stove; food scraps and various utensils littered the counter. You could still see smoke dissipating in the air.

The sounds of Rafael muttering curses distracted you from the disaster in the kitchen. You whipped your head around to find him wrestling a bush in the living room as he struggled to wrap blue and white lights around it. In the battle between man and plant, it looked like the plant was winning.

“What the hell is going on here?!” You exclaimed.

Rafael froze, dropping the strand of lights in his hands. “Hi, cariño,” he said with a sheepish expression. “I wasn’t expecting you home until later.”

“Well would you care to explain why you’re fighting a ficus or why it looks like a cyclone has run through our kitchen?” You crossed your arms and arched your brow, giving him a stern look. Rafael suddenly felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“It’s actually a Hanukkah bush,” he replied, kicking the plant out of the way.

“A Hanukkah bush?” You repeated.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I also tried to make latkes. I asked your mom for the recipe, but then Liv called me and I got distracted. Next thing I know the kitchen is up in flames and I have burnt potato pancakes.” He took a step towards you, nearly tripping on the strand of lights. “It was supposed to be a surprise. I know you were upset about not spending Hanukkah with your family.”

Your face softened, noticing several dreidels, chocolate gelt, and a shiny gold menorah on the coffee table. You collapsed onto the sofa, overwhelmed by what Rafael had done. A lump formed in your throat as you took one of the dreidels in your hand. Memories came flooding back of being at your grandparents’ house during Hanukkah; lighting the menorah, stuffing your face full of sufganiyot and latkes

“Carmen picked those up for me during her lunch break,” he said, watching you spin a dreidel on the coffee table.

“You mean you did all this for me?”

“Of course.” He sat down next to you and took your hand in his. “Like you said last night, it’s our first time spending the holidays together. I want this to be special. Te quiero mucho.”

“I love you too.” You kissed Rafael and pressed your forehead against his.

“So what do you say, wanna celebrate Hanukkah with your Gentile boyfriend?” He asked with a smirk.

A giggle escaped your lips. “Absolutely. Let me shower and change, then we can tackle those latkes together.” You wrapped your arms around him. “Thank you for everything,” you whispered, kissing his cheek before heading down the hall to your bedroom.

Rafael stood up, staring down the Hanukkah bush, more determined than ever to decorate the God-forsaken ficus.

*****

You and Rafael may have been busy with work, but that didn’t stop you from finding your own ways to celebrate Hanukkah over the next several days. Not having the time to go out and buy gifts, you both would find other thoughtful ways to show that you cared for each other. Whether it was coming home to find he had ordered takeout from your favorite Chinese restaurant or leaving little love notes for Rafael in his suit pocket before he left for the office. You created your own traditions.

On one of your rare days off, you even fried up some sufganiyot and brought them to the precinct for Rafael and the rest of the SVU squad. “Feel free to make these all year-round,” Fin joked as he took a bite into his second jelly-filled donut.

Every night, no matter the time, you both would sit in the living room and light the menorah. It was Rafael’s favorite part of Hanukkah. He was mesmerized, watching the flames from the candles illuminate your face as you repeated the Hanukkah blessings spoken by generations before.

Rafael grew up Catholic and would occasionally attend church with his mother on Easter and Christmas, but he was not a religious man. And yet, witnessing the reverence you had for your faith and for your history, made him fall in love with you even more. It made him think more about the future; in particular, a future with you.

*****

On the eighth and final day of Hanukkah, you had hoped to get home early. Unfortunately, there was an emergency and you had to stay later at the hospital than usual. Between checking on patients, you snuck into the break room to call Rafael. You fidgeted with the hair band on your wrist while the phone rang, eventually the call went straight to voicemail.

“Hello, you’ve reached the voicemail of Rafael Barba. Please leave a detailed message and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Hi, babe. Looks like I’m gonna be here a few more hours. You better start dinner without me. There’s leftovers in the—”

Before you could finish your message, your name was called over the PA system. “Dr. Y/L/N, please report to the nurses’ station. Dr. Y/L/N, please report to the nurses’ station.”

You huffed out a sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “They’re paging me. I gotta go. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Love you.”

You hung up your cell and headed straight for the nurses’ station. Turning the corner, you stopped in your tracks, your sneakers squeaking against the linoleum floor. To your surprise there was Rafael with a big bouquet of red roses in his arms; with him were your mom, his mom, and the rest of your family, even your Great-Aunt Edna. All of them stood there with big smiles plastered on their faces.

“Hi, mi amor.” Rafael awkwardly waved. His hands were shaking slightly and his cheeks were bright pink. You could tell he was nervous.

You were at a loss for words, glancing around at everyone. The nurse who had been paging you caught your eye and gave you a sly wink. “Raf...what’s going on?” You finally managed to squeak out.

He laid the flowers on the counter and took a step towards you. “Remember when I told you I asked your mom for her latke recipe?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I may have left out the minor detail where I also asked her and your family to come for a visit, so they could watch me do this.” He audibly gulped and slowly got down on one knee, taking out of his pocket a small velvet box.

“Oh my God,” you breathed.

“Y/N, I’ll be honest. I never thought this would happen for me. I never thought I would find someone or fall in love, but then I met you. You transformed my life. You’re the first person I want to see in the morning and the last person I want to be with before I fall asleep. You’re the light of my life. The love of my life and I promise to cherish every day that I have with you.”

A tiny whimper escaped your lips, tears streaming down your face as he continued, his own eyes glossy with tears. “When I talked to your family and asked for their blessing, they told me there was a name for what we are— basherts. Y/N, you’re my soulmate. There’s no one else I want by my side. No one else I want to spend my life with. I want to spend forever with you and I want our forever to start now.” Rafael opened the box to reveal an antique white gold engagement ring. His grandmother’s engagement ring. “Y/N Y/L/N, would you make me the happiest man on Earth and marry me?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed and wrapped your arms around him, crying into the crook of his neck.

Rafael barely had time to place the ring on your finger and kiss you before your family bombarded you both with hugs and well-wishes. You managed to escape and stepped off to the side while everyone else talked amongst themselves.

“I wasn’t lying about my bubbe,” you giggled and wiped her lipstick smudge off of Rafael.

“Nope, you weren’t. I think I’m finally getting the feeling back in my face.” He massaged his cheeks, glancing over to where your moms were having a lively discussion about your wedding. “Looks like our mothers are getting along.”

You followed Rafael’s gaze, overhearing their conversation. “A spring wedding would be beautiful. Maybe in May?” Your mom suggested.

“Oh I agree,” Lucia chimed in. “I bet if we call now, we can see if Father Alvarez and Rabbi Goldman are available. I’m sure they won’t mind doing the ceremony together.”

“Kindred spirits.” You snorted a laugh before looking down at your engagement ring with a sad smile.”

The expression on your face was not lost on Rafael. “Is something wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing. It’s silly.”

He gently grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Try me.”

“You’ve done so much for me. Surprising me with Hanukkah bushes and latkes and engagement rings. I feel as if I haven’t done anything for you.” You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose. “I even forgot to get you a Christmas gift.”

“Hey,” he cooed and cupped your face, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “You gave me the greatest gift I’ve ever gotten.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion, staring into his green eyes. “What gift was that?”

“You said, yes.” He smiled and pulled you into his embrace, kissing you with such fierce passion that the staff and even some of your family whooped and cheered.

For years to come, you and Rafael would celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah, passing down the traditions to your own children. But both of you would agree that the first holiday you celebrated as a couple was by far the best one.

@glimmerglittergirl​ @southern-magnolia​ @sweetcannolicarisi​ @delia26​ @obfuscateyummy​ @sass-and-suspenders​ @eclecticminded​ @thatesqcrush​ @katmstanton​ @amirightcounsellor​ @beltzboys2015-blog​ @letty-o​ @sonnysdoll​ @lyssa1385​ @sweetsummertime99​ @burningsorr0ws​ @gibbs274​ @izzythefanfreak​ @riodallas​ @babypink224221​ @livxrafa​ @esparza-army​ @obsessionprofessional​ @ottosuricato​ @melsquared79​ @dreila03​ @frenchiefoxy​ @tropes-and-tales​ @thecraziestcrayon​ @goodluckfindingone​

[insuaplant]

Ficus benghalensis

I got this Ficus in the summer of 2017. It was just 30 cm tall and almost all of its leaves were burnt from salt accumulation. It’s 110 cm tall now.

[deniigi]

What do you do when you're stuck on a chapter? Like, how do you unblock your brain or get things going? I've been stuck on how to start a chapter for a couple days and was wondering if you had any tips?

depends!

A lot of it has to do with why I’m unhappy with the chapter to begin with. Usually, if I can’t write a chapter it means that I’m bored or have lost interest, in which case, I try to find something super interesting to me (idea, setting, joke, etc) to build the chapter around.

So for example, in sidebars after I introduced Sam, I wasn’t sure how to move forward with the piece, I think I tried a few ways, but it all just ended up being kinda meh and I wasn’t super excited to move forward. I just wanted to write the chapters that came later.

So I decided that fuck it, I’m gonna fixate on something weird because I want to. I researched ficus trees. Figs. I was permanently scarred and went ‘ah, yes. This is it, I think. This is how I’m going to introduce Sam.’

Other reasons for getting stuck can be worrying about the reception a chapter will receive, being unsure of your plot, not knowing enough about a character, being burnt out, being tired, or just flat out needing more time to gather your thoughts.

You might consider if any of those areas are holding you back. If any of them are applicable, then maybe try dealing with them first and see where that gets you.

Sometimes, the answer truly is that you just need more time to work through the different ideas in your head for how you want things to go. To help with that, I often go on walks with no music, and then I’ll try walking with music on, or I’ll go do things out in the world. These kinds of experiences can inform your way of thinking and help you find things to get you excited about the next chapter!

Another thing to try might be writing in a different place than usual. Our brains often get set in certain patterns of thinking in certain spaces, so shaking that up might help you get some ideas loose.

So if you’re at home in your room writing, maybe try moving to a different place in your room or maybe even try writing outside the house. Try going to a coffee shop and getting a fancy drink and taking the time to yourself to write or plot, whichever you feel more comfortable doing outside the house (I personally, can’t write fic outside the house, but I use this technique for my academic writing and it helps loads.)

I wish I could give you a fix it, but most of these techniques help me when I get stuck.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

Height diference ,Size kink Tony is just so short, fits everywhere and always looks up to Bucky as if being kneeling, so Bucky really can't stand being in a room with him wihout getting horny

Summary: James Barnes, former Winter Soldier and current hot mess, is trying to gather the courage to make a move on the maybe hot mess but definitely hot Tony Stark. An undercover mission gone awry gives him the chance he was looking for, albeit not in the form he expected.  (Spiritual sequel to In From the Cold but it can be read as a standalone)

Link to Ao3

Feeling the Heat

Chapter 1

James would like for the record to state that if it wasn’t for Tony’s goddamn eyelashes, he wouldn’t be in this mess. He wanted to feel them on his lips when he kissed the laugh lines at the corner of Tony’s eyes and he wanted to feel them brush his skin as Tony fell asleep on his chest.  Tony’s warm brown eyes were already arresting enough without the thick fringe, the way they sparkled with amusement even when Tony wasn’t smiling or how they would go sharp and distant when he was deep in thought.  But the kicker, what really got to James the most, was the way that Tony would sometimes glance up at him through those thick eyelashes when they talked.  

Tony was short, yeah; whenever Tony stood next to him, it always surprised him that Tony only came up to his chin because honestly, Tony had so much presence that it made him seem taller.  But Clint was the same height, and so was Bruce, and neither of them made James feel tongue tied and gave him the butterflies that Tony did. Ridiculous.

So after much thought, James decided to blame the eyelashes. Weeks of study had revealed that there was a sweet spot where James could stand, far enough that Tony wouldn’t have to lift his chin but close enough that he did have to look up, that would almost always lead to at least one such glance. James had planned assassinations with less effort than conversations with Tony.

He sighed.

But if he were honest, it probably wasn’t just the eyelashes.  Tony could be next to him in the elevator and James would think about picking him up and how Tony could wrap his legs around his waist and that would bring Tony’s generous mouth level with James’s and that’s when he would have to derail his own train of thought lest he embarrass himself. On the bad days he fantasized about pulling Tony into a hug, wondering if he would fit right under his chin like it seemed like he would.  He also wanted to tuck Tony into bed and aggressively big spoon him every time Tony ghosted around the place late at night with that sad, haunted look in his eyes.  He knew Tony was strong and capable and that the Iron Man suit could take far more damage than James could in his best body armor, but he still daydreamed about being able to stand in front of Tony and protect him.  To let this mangled body save a life instead of only having memories of taking them.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

James jumped when Tony appeared right at his elbow. Tony frowned and moved his cup out of harm’s way when James almost spilled his coffee.  “Jeez, jumpy much?” Then with apparently a death wish he poked the century’s most prolific assassin in the side. “What’s got you so on edge?”

Predictably, James’s brain froze when presented with a conversational ambush, especially when he saw that Tony was wearing a tank top and low-slung jeans that revealed a tempting line of skin at his hips.  There was a smudge of grease on the back of the hand holding the coffee cup, a red line around his eyes from where he had been wearing goggles, and his hair was sticking in all directions like someone had been ruffling their hands through it.

For a quick, sharp moment James wanted him so much that his chest ached.  Swallowing around the tightness in his throat, he finally noticed that Tony was looking at him expectantly. He pulled his thoughts away from Tony’s eyelashes and realized he’d been asked a question. “Just tired,” James mumbled and got up to go back to his room, afraid his thoughts would show on his face.  He so mortified that he didn’t even notice the way Tony’s eyes followed him as he left.

(More after the break!)

.                                              ———————

Jab. Jab. Roundhouse. Elbow. Jab. Jab. Uppercut. Knee.

James let himself fall into the rhythm of his workout, the world narrowing to just him and the thud of impact as he hit the punching bag.  Behind him, Steve was on the souped-up treadmill Tony had designed for them, his strides a quick counterpoint to James’s strikes.  After thirty minutes they would switch, then lift weights, then spar, trying as ever to reach muscle exhaustion before boredom set in.  The best days were when Tony would put on a suit and spar with them outside, but he had too many demands on his time to be able to do it more than once every other week or so.

Which was probably for the best, considering that after those sparring sessions, the leftover adrenaline and endorphins gave James a hard-on that just wouldn’t quit.  He would invariably spend the next few hours masturbating until his dick got chafed to fantasies of peeling Tony out of his suit and bending him over one of his work tables, or maybe having Tony ride him on the back of one of his motorbikes.

James dragged his thoughts away from that and tried to focus on his work-out, getting back into his rhythm until the loud smack of a hand hitting a practice mat broke his concentration; looking up, he realized that on the other side of the gym Tony was getting a martial arts lesson from Natasha. He quickly forced his eyes away and back to the bag, because Tony was wearing another tank top and his biceps were almost as bad as his eyelashes.  Plus, he was also wearing those thin workout pants that always clung to his ass when he started sweating and that shit was not fair.

Jab. Jab. Jab. Elbow. Cross. Jab. Hook.

Steve tapped him on the shoulder and gestured towards the treadmill.  As he cranked up the speed, James tried to get back into the exercising mindset but his concentration was shot. Sometimes when he was tired and high on endorphins, he could have a normal conversation with Tony instead of being the tense, wound-up wreck he usually was.  Now, however, all he could think about was pinning Tony to the mat, both of them sweaty and breathing hard, and Tony looking up at him through those goddamn eyelashes-

He tripped on the treadmill and had to grab the sides before he fell.

“Careful, Buck,” Steve said with a small smile, as if he knew what James had been thinking about.  “If you bite it on a treadmill, Sam will never let you live it down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” James muttered.  “Everyone’s a fucking comedian.”

                                   ———————

A week or so later, James found himself wide awake at three in the morning, something that happened with enough regularity that he knew that he wouldn’t be going back to sleep any time soon.  With a resigned sigh he climbed out of bed and started wandering through the compound, checking that all was well while he waited to get tired enough to go back to sleep.

To his surprise, he saw a light coming from the kitchen; approaching quietly, he smiled to himself when he saw Tony staring blearily into the fridge.  He was barefoot but still wearing the clothes from earlier, his fancy dress shirt pulled free of his pants and sleeves shoved messily up to his elbows.  James gave himself a minute to watch fondly as Tony went on his tiptoes to search through the top shelf of the fridge before he cleared his throat and came closer.

“Wha- oh, hey James,” Tony said, squinting at him from around the light of the fridge. “What’re you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep.  You?”

“Got tied up in paperwork and now I’m hungry.” Looking over his shoulder, James realized Tony’s problem; there was a bunch of food in the fridge, but it all needed to be cooked, and while Tony could cook, he was an indifferent chef at best.  He would inevitably get impatient and turn up the burners to make everything cook faster, then wince his way gamely through his burnt meal and live off smoothies for the next few days.

James gently hipchecked him out of in front of the fridge and gestured for him to sit.  “I’ll make you something.”  He knew Tony was tired because he went without argument, claiming a seat at the bar and propping his head up on his fist as he watched James pulling eggs out of the fridge. “Omelet or scrambled?”

“Oh.” Tony perked up at that. “Omelet.”

As James chopped vegetables for the omelet, he was acutely aware of Tony’s eyes on him, feeling his gaze like the heat of the fire; despite that, though, the “What were you working on?” James said as the eggs started to sizzle.

“Budget forecasts,” Tony answered with a yawn.  “It’s that time of year, so.  I’ll be at it for the next few days.”

James made a face.  “I thought you had people for that?” He gently sidled the spatula under the egg to fold it over without breaking it and plated it, sliding it across the bar to Tony.

“I do,” Tony said shortly as he started to eat.

It took James a moment to realize why Tony wouldn’t trust anyone else to approve Stark Industries’ budget. “Oh. Right.”

Tony shrugged, like yeah, I was betrayed by an old family friend and now I have trust issues, what do you do. “This is amazing,” he said, gesturing at the omelet with his fork. Tony’s eyes softened from their tiredness and he smiled, making James felt his face get warm and turned away from Tony to put the dishes in the dishwasher.  “No problem,” he mumbled.  James knew it was time to make his escape when he was tempted to drape himself like a blanket over the tired slump of Tony’s shoulders and press a kiss to his messy hair, so he said something about getting some sleep and fled.

                           ———————

“No, it hasn’t happened yet, but it will, I swear,” Tony said into his phone as he bounded up the stairs leading to the shared living room.  From his half-hidden position next to a giant ficus tree, James took the chance to look his fill before Tony noticed him.  Today he was wearing a burgundy dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms and a vest; his collar was unbuttoned and the small vee of skin showing there, the divot at the base of Tony’s throat, made James die a little. “Why do you care so much? Is there a betting pool? Do you have money on this? Because if so I want in.” As he listened to whoever was on the phone – probably Colonel Rhodes, judging from the way Tony was grinning at whatever he was saying – he was searching the couches and coffee tables.

James looked guiltily at Tony’s tablet on the table next to him, which he had used earlier instead of going all the way back to his room for his own.  Discretely, he cleared the browser history and cleared his throat to get Tony’s attention, waving the tablet at him.

“Hold on a second,” Tony said into his phone then tucked it under his arm as he took the tablet.  “Thanks, Terminator.  How are you doing today?”

James shrugged, barely able to look at Tony straight on.  “Not bad.  Had therapy this morning.”  The therapist had said that his infatuation with Tony was good, that it was a sign that he was emotionally ready for a relationship, and encouraged him to make a move.  James had stared at her like she was speaking Ancient Greek.  “Going to watch a movie with Steve and Sam this afternoon.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony grinned.  “Which movie?”

“The one about the giant shark.”

Tony made a thoughtful noise.  “The dinosaur one is better.  You and I should go see that one sometime.”

Now James was staring at Tony like he was speaking Ancient Greek. “Oh…kay?”

“Good.”  With another blinding grin, Tony put his phone up to his ear. “Alright, I’m back, Rhodey.  I have my tablet, what was it that you wanted me to look at?”

“He said we should go see a movie together,” James said. “What does that mean?”

Natasha shrugged and didn’t look up from painting her toenails. “That he wants to see a movie with you?”

“But is it a date? Did he ask me out on a date?”  Is this what a heart attack felt like? James felt the need to lay down, so he slid out of the chair and laid down on the floor to stare at the ceiling.

“I don’t know, you’ll have to ask him.”  She laughed when James said something uncomplimentary in Russian. “I think it’s a good idea though. You would be good for him.”

“How?” He asked, spreading his hands wide. “I’m a fucking basket case.”

“Bold of you to assume we aren’t all basket cases,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “But you’re a mother hen, it’s in your nature to take care of people.  And Tony has a bad habit of running himself into the ground if he thinks it’s for a good cause, so if anyone could use a mother hen it’s him.”

James was speechless. “Mother hen?” he repeated incredulously, turning his head to look at her.

“You heard me.” Natasha straightened and admired her toes then started on the other foot.

James grunted and watched her careful strokes with the tiny paintbrush as he thought about what she’d said.  What’s the worst that could happen? He couldn’t imagine Tony being cruel about turning him down if he wasn’t interested.  And if he wasn’t, Bucky could track down the nearest Hydra base, wipe his own memory, and move to Mongolia. “Ok,” he said finally. “Sure.  I’ll ask him out on a date.”

[burntficus]

just found out that I actually forgot to post this redraw here, oops. I love Bottles optimism (complete lack of awareness)

[thesteveyates]

A curious cabinet post.

Once a month now i intend to post an update on the ‘cabinet of curiosities’ which is both a visual set of artefacts/prompts for my writing and a kind of pun filled memory box.  Right now , as i finish and edit the post, i have cleared my locker out at work, thrown my scrubs on the floor of the changing room…..someone else can clear up for a change…..and quietly walked out of the hospital, i hope for the last time.   I guess then that inevitably there will be parts of this post that relate back to the nearly 40 years that i spent as a nurse and all the changes that have happened : many of those not for the better.

And so..”.a long time ago in a distant galaxy”….

It was a tradition of one boat that i sailed a lot of ocean miles on, to run a ships newspaper.  It was written in as spoof shock-horror outrage style as whoever was editing it could muster up, sort of ‘The Sun/News of the World‘  meets your worst parochial local newspaper after a collision with ‘VIZ ‘ magazine from the same era.      ‘Man found in bilge‘  was an early headline if i remember it right.

It’s all so long ago that i can’t remember actual articles but suffice to say that the skipper and mate usually got some scurrilous leg-pull and anything that anyone did that was remarkably stupid usually warranted a leader.  Crossing the line once or twice i think gave us a couple of sessions of ‘court appearances’   and i do remember speeding fines being handed out at one time….it being rumoured that the boat’s insurance only went up to 15 knots…..i hit about 28 during a monster surf one time !.  I think that one cost me several tins of beer as that’s how we gave out fines for most misdemeanours.

There was a slightly serious side, i used to add medical content when it was necasary : the treatment for ‘gunnel-bum‘ being one of mine and i think once a close to the bone(R) reminder about Brazil, Willy’s, STD’s  and condom useage !.  I do remember writing those in a consciously ‘Sister Plume‘ style.  I guess that most if not everyone will now not have the slightest clue what or whom i am talking about : well, Sister Plume was a made up chraracter from the Nurses comic : ‘Nursing times’.  Sister Plume being an old-time old-fashioned ward sister who believed in ‘high, hot and a hell of a lot‘ enemas’s and a tidy linen cupboard……oh how times have changed !.  Just before i scheduled the post for publishing, my mother messaged me to ask if the curio cabinet would contain some of those tacky little ‘a gift from’ pieces of tat that appear in ‘gift’ shops around the coast….well not unless they are in extremely bad taste….perhaps a dildo in the shape of the Blackpool tower or similar !.   There is a genuine vintage enema kit on display so….

Anyway, enough smutty talk and back to Sister Plume for a moment.

One ‘for real’ version of the excellent Sister Plume whom i actually knew got so cross at the phone ringing during morning report time that she whipped her nursing scissors out of her belt and snipped through the handset cable !

Sister Plume….possibly.

Lost at sea  ?, well you should be by now.

You see, i’m working on displays for the ‘curious cabinet’ , i really need to something based on my own nursing career but have a bit of fun with the whole thing at the same time.  At first i just thought about hanging my statement of entry (nursing register) but it’s a poor thing and i don’t even have an old SRN badge as they were scrapped just before i qualified and i was unfeasibly pissed about that.  I had a training badge and hospital badge somewhere but have no idea where either are now.  I did think about photographs of course and i might be able to track down a picture of the old infirmary where i did a placement…..the hospital where i did most of it is as brutal and soul-less a public building as you can imagine.  Where i work now (used to work until yesterday) is immeasurably worse…..like one of the scenes from Huxley’s  ‘brave new world’.

I’ll probably have my own custom stethoscope in there and i’d like to find a really old, bell style one and maybe some of the other, older stuff that was still kicking around when i started my career.  What i am working on for this first part is a display of glass….medical glass, specifically medicines, poisons and pharmacy glass as most of it is really attractive. There needs to be lots of visual puns as well : an Arsenic bottle will be there because Arsenic is an important local product.  Just across the hill from here are the remnants of arsenic tunnels in the old mine workings : the principle being that the arsenic and tin  bearing mineral (cassiterite) was burnt in a chamber that led into a tunnel….the arsenic tunnel.  The arsenic would condense out on the granite walls and it was someone’s job to crawl through there and scrape the arsenic salt off the wall !.

Nice work if you can get it !…..one small visual artefact i have here is an all-steel miners compass and clinometer for the underground surveying of tunnels and so forth.  In the garden we have a few larger bits and pieces of old mining hardware that i unearthed while i was working on the gardens here.

Tin mining and it’s highly toxic by-product arsenic were a big deal in the area of east Cornwall where i now live.  To buy a property here it’s essential to do a mining search and even then the mines records only go back so far , not every tunnel, adit and gallery were mapped .  There is one place in a nearby village where the garden of one council house just disappeared into a big hole one day, the house had to be taken down and the hole plugged.  A regular occurrence in that village is that a company is still tasked with taking soundings of underground water levels via long bore-hole pipes under manhole covers.  Apparently the water level is slowly dropping although there is said to be an entire underground lake under the village.

Did you know that one of the most polluted rivers in the world is a few miles down the road in Cornwall ?…..no i guess not, well that’s the Red river down in west Cornwall and the river bed bears no life whatsoever…..loaded with arsenic. An arsenic compound (arsphenamine) by the way was once a treatment for syphillis and once also a tonic, dispensed, carefully i hope by pharmacists. Dredging my memory a bit i think that Napoleon Bonaparte’s body showed signs of medical arsenical poisoning most-mortem.

Last week i found a completely engaging bloke in the local indoor market when i had to pass through the tin mining town of Tavistock which was once central to the tin and arsenic industry locally.  He had maybe a hundred mixed glass bottles on display going back into the 18th century and everything from pharmacist’s ‘flats’ to genuine medicines and poisons bottles.  We had a quick flick through his picture files on his phone and i was able to recognise and name some of the labels….an early form of digoxin (digitalis) was one that i must find as it’s closely linked to my own career in cardiothoracics, another one was ‘oil ficus which has to be oil of figs….a laxative.  ‘The one that caught my eye at first was, of course, way outside my budget but i have the beginnings of a nice medical/chemical display….the second display link being that my first job after leaving school was as a very junior laboratory assistant.

The ‘pharmacia’ as i am thinking of it, needs some other visual puns so i’m on the lookout for some ‘dried frog pills’ and a  ‘red pill’ or two although maybe the display should only have the blue one just to show that the red one has already been taken.  One of the poisons display bottles will be cleaned out and filled with the remnants from a bottle of Mount Gay rum that came out of the bottom of my sailing bag….it must be 20 years old at least and is still potent : that ones going in either ‘poison’ or ‘not to be taken’.

I already have a title in mind for this one below….. i really do wonder what they are just about to shoot-up on.  Very few will know that Heroin addiction was very common among medical professionals at one time….one consultant that i used to sail with claimed that he spent long weekends on call , totally wired with amphetamines.  To be honest this one below is almost certainly a staged photograph from a teaching exercise : the kit is nice though, glass syringes, enamel kidney dishes and swabs in a dish of spirits all neatly laid out as i was taught to do it.  I did make an Ebay bid on a ferocious looking glass syringe and an old enamel kidney dish but didn’t win either of them.

Party time at the nurses home !

So yes….my display is going to have some memorabilia from my own career but skewed back a few years in time.  I have found , but can’t afford, an early anaesthetic device designed for using ether as the volatile agent, several cased glass syringes which i can afford one of and so on.  Disturbingly i also managed to find a machine designed to deliver electro-convulsive therapy on Ebay…..ECT was still being performed at the psychiatric hospital where i did my student stint when i was there.

At it’s peak Whittingham psychiatric hospital or asylum as it was once known was the largest psychiatric hospital in the whole of Europe, possibly in the world.  There weren’t many patients or inmates left when i was there and the ones that were had been there for nearly their entire lives…..totally institutionalised.  Whittingham was so large that it had it’s own infirmary, church and burial ground, let alone a full bakery, butchery and huge kitchen where some of the inmates worked.

I did a quick search just to see what happened to the old psychiatric hospital at Whittingham where i spent 8 weeks of my training……and not as a patient i hasten to add.  A few years back when i took a brief look at ‘urbex-ing’ while i lived in Sheffield i found a whole load of photographs of Whittingham hospital after it was closed and abandonned…..several of those pictures i have added to the slide show of Preston Royal Infirmary below as they are linked by my own nurse training…..i think several of my friends worked on one of the old infirmary wards in those pictures.

Just for a bit of nostalgia here are some mixed images of the old Preston Royal Infirmary where i did one ward placement and some from Whittingham psychiatric hospital where i did another.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The medical display should also link to my longer voyages as well because i did the first ones of those as ‘medic’ in a Whitbread race and then a cruising circumnavigation. I used to have, can’t find it today, a crew hat from that Whitbread race on which i had kept a kind of record of the odd ailments and real injuries that i treated during that race.  From memory there were a couple of ‘I and D’s…(incision and drainage of abcess) a bit of suturing here and there, at least one case of hypothermia,and one badly shattered ankle which is the worst actual injury that i have ever had to deal without assistance and advice.

Many of the actual injuries and illnesses that i dealt with have found their way into the blog at some time or other, principally in the first aid series although there a couple of medical posts still awaiting completion and an edit.

Finding sister Susie though.

From my later years as mate and then briefly skipper , when we ran a ships newspaper, i always thought that it was me writing as the stern and rather old fashioned ‘Sister Plume ‘.  I recently contacted my opposite number on the boat, also a nurse and she assures me that it was her writing as the strait-laced traditionalist (sister Sophie) and me writing as the modern sister Susie…..a ‘non directive, non hierarchial area management/ lead nursing facilitator’….or some such totally BS job description.  Frighteningly today there is probably such a job title out there although it’s more likely to have wimmins health , LGBT rights and inclusion in the job description.  Just as a side note here, when i was given the new job description for my last career job it was some 17 pages long…..i think i actually lost the will to live by page 3 !.

Today, as i edit the post prior to scheduling i note that one acute NHS trust has just fired their female and non-white  ‘inclusion and diversity’ manager (£100, 000 per annum salary) for her clearly racist remarks about a while, male department manager who might be a complete knob-end , iv’e no idea…..but that he is actually a person doing a real hospital job …….oh how times have changed when we seem to need ‘diversity‘ managers rather than starched-apron ward sisters of the Sister Plume variety.*

I first met the archetype Sister Plume in the rather matronly shape of my first ward sister, i honestly can’t remember the ladies name today.  She was as strict and severe as you would have expected but of course had a heart of gold had you been able to find it under the layers of starched apron, uniform and i dare say some industrial strength corsetry.

One time, about a month into that first ward placement i was working in a bay on the ward while sister was doing the medicines round from an old style wooden drugs trolley. One of the auxiliaries , today called health-care assistants, came out from behind a curtain and said something to discretely to sister.  The sister locked the drugs cupboard and briefly disappeared behind the same set of curtains.  A moment later she beckoned me over with a steady ‘come with me Mr Yates…always called me mister’ . It was the kind of no nonsense voice and command that would bring a stroppy registrar to heel or have a student nurse in tears.    We stepped behind the curtains, sister was standing close enough that she was able to whisper very quietly that the patient had just passed away and that i was at about the right point in my career to experience that.  It wasn’t a great shock, the old boy was slumped against his pillows, mouth open, eyes shut, clearly grey and very dead.  If i remember it properly sister used my strength to support the body while she got the backrest down and pillows out such that we could lay the body flat.

The ward sister then ‘invited’ me into the office and what i met then was a completely different side of her…basically kind and caring enough to explain that it’s a good start to see your first dead one with someone steady.  I think i was steady enough myself to ask a couple of sensible questions : what we needed to do next and such like.

I remember thinking then , or shortly after, that it was a very ‘English’ kind of death : the old boy having passed away just after his morning tea and without any sense of distress or even the slightest complaint.

Years later i was to end my then career as a cardiac intensive care nurse one night shift in the most visceral way possible in a modern hospital…..with my hands actually inside a patient’s chest, doing internal cardiac massage….in simple terms squeezing the heart , while me and the surgical registrar tried to contain the blood hosing out of the patient’s aorta….very messy, very distressing and ultimately futile.

Iv’e been thinking a lot recently about image and uniform as it relates to nursing, and after having written a short piece as a response to another youtuber : quickly written and as quickly taken down again as it didn’t think i’d put across what i was trying to say. In one section i was trying to say that the overall respect for nurses and nursing has gone down and down over the last 10 years or so and very much at the hands of the MSM (mainstream media).  At one time nurses were always portrayed as angels, now it’s more likely that they are shown turning up in court for anything from drink and drugs charges to fraud , neglect and manslaughter.

Sadly it’s true that some nurse managers , modern matrons to name one variety, chose to focus on the petty and quotidean minor points of detail, who’s hair isn’t up ‘enough’ who is wearing too many body piercings and who is wearing the ‘wrong’ shoes….rather than dealing with the serious stuff such as thinking about why we can’t retain staff.  I don’t want to come across as a uniform bore and, like Herreshoff, always hark back to a time that was somehow ‘better’ but in nursing it might just be true.

I remember the first day of ‘PTS’ (preliminary training school) which was the first day that the girls got their uniforms. In my white smock and with a mess of scruffy red hair i looked like a manic dentist crossed with a carrot.   Of course most of their uniforms  didn’t fit as the standard shape that they were made in, in different sizes, weren’t designed for the long/tall/ narrow/wide and smaller or larger busted among them.   There was much hilarity and some degree of embarrassment as the class first donned the uniform and got used to the totally silly paper caps with their one blue stripe to indicate that we were first year students. When they/we all qualified they all moved into fetching light grey as staff nurses, many bought linen caps and silver belt buckles so although ‘uniform’ there were subtle individual differences.

At around the same time there were those, usually the so called nursing leaders of the time that considered the uniform old fashioned and nothing more than a parody of a Victorian parlour maid.  Just after that the traditional belt and cap were removed and the new uniform may well have been the corporate dress of somewhere like MacDonalds or Tesco. I won’t say that the old style uniform was always totally functional but it was often elegant and presented the nurse in a way that the public liked and respected…generally speaking.    Today, in our department we wear what look like baggy pyjamas , like surgical scrubs but not quite as functional and patients usually have to ask what individuals do…..most days i get called ‘Doctor’ unless i have specifically introduced myself as a staff nurse.

I am of course wrong, but i feel something has been lost, whatever…i look terrible in stockings !

*Just for your reference.

Finding Sister Susie. A curious cabinet post. Once a month now i intend to post an update on the '

[antilogvacations]

True inspiration stories of Indian women who are the real face of women empowerment

She’s a daughter, she’s a sister, she’s a wife, she’s a mother and she’s a granddaughter. She’s a niece, she’s a friend, she's love but above all, she is herself. She is a woman.

Woman’s Day is the day to celebrate the womanhood not for just a single day but for every instant of our lives. Marking Woman’s Day is so much more than greeting cards and superficial shopping celebrations. It is the day to celebrate the fact that the beautiful one is no longer the weaker one. It is the occasion to remember that women have come a long way from the weaker sections to the leading persons in the history of mankind. Women are at the same level in modern society as their male equivalents. It is wrong for women to wait for the best opportunity, take a step and crest your own opportunity to help you empower yourself as these following women have done.

Take a look at some of the true inspiration which creates a milestone in their respective fields.

Mary Kom

The lady who put utmost efforts to take the boxing from a remote village to the international level, Chungneijang Mary Kom Hmangte, also known as boxing queen Mary Kom, opened the prospect for the future of women’s boxing in India. She is India's first women boxing Olympic participant, she is the only woman boxer to win a medal in each of the 6 world competitions with the title of a five-time winner of the World Amateur Boxing Championship. But for her, it was not a bed of roses. She hails from a poor family but with hard work and consistent she made her way up to become not only the best boxer of India but also the world champion through. She won the Boxing Championship after taking a break from marriage and motherhood.

Kalpana Chawla

Kalpana Chawla, born on March 17, 1962, was the first female of Indian origin American astronaut, engineer to go to space. She was born and brought up in Karnal, Haryana. after getting a Bachelor of Engineering degree in Aeronautical Engineering she moved to United state for further studies and in 1988 she got a Ph.D. in aerospace engineering.  In 1997 she first flew on her first mission in Space Shuttle named as Columbia as a primary robotic arm operator and mission specialist. In 2003, on her second space mission, Kalpana Chawla died in the Space Shuttle Columbia disaster along with other seven crew members during its re-entry into the Earth's atmosphere. She along the other six crew members awarded the Congressional Space Medal of Honor. Ambala polytechnic girls college have been named after her. Several other colleges, institutions, universities have been named in her honor.

Arunima Sinha  

Arunima Sinha, born on 20 July 1988 is the first India female amputee to scale Mount Everest. But it is not as easy as it seems to be. She was a national level volleyball player, she boarded Padmavati Express train at Lucknow for Delhi where some robbers wanting to snatch her bag and gold chain and during which they throw her out of the general compartment where she fell off the parallel railway track. She was unable to move and just when another train on a parallel track crushed her leg below the knee. She had some serious injuries and doctor have to amputate her leg to save her leg. She didn't stop there. She excelled in the basic mountaineering course and reached the summit of Mount Everest with a prosthetic leg. She is Awarded Tenzing Norgay Highest Mountaineering Award and fourth highest civilian award of India Padma Shri. After climbing Mount Everest her next goal was to reach the summit of top seven highest mountains in seven continent. On Jan 4, 2019, after reaching the seventh peak in Antarctica, she became the first female amputee in the world to conquer all the seven highest mountains in seven continent.

Saalumarada Thimmakka

Saalumarada Thimmakka is an excellent example of the concept that age is not a bar when it comes to goodwill. She is an environmental zealot with the age of more than 100. She is famous for her commitment to planting more than 8,000 banyans (Ficus) trees over her entire lifetime. She worked as a laborer in a quarry with no formal education. BBC has mentioned her as a 105-year-old tree lady in the list of the 100 most influential women in 2016.

Laxmi Agarwal

Laxmi Agarwal is the name of hard struggle and courage. She was only 15 years old when some stalker there concentrated acid on her face. After this horrible mishap, she decided to empowered her other acid attack survivors like herself to live a confident life. She carried on campaigns and court petition to make a correct regulation for the sale of Acid. Despite her burnt face Alok Dixit decided to marry her against all the odds and society’s reverence.

Irom Sharmila

Irom Sharmila is a real-life badass civil right activist who went on the longest hunger strike in the world. She was on a hunger strike from more than 16 years. From 2000 she was protesting against the Armed Forces Act in Manipur, India through a hunger strike. This act permits the Indian Armed Forces to act as they should be only in the national emergency which caused the forces to kill 10 civilians. Malom Massacre is the name of the incidence. In August 2016, she finally decided to broke her strike but she is still fighting for the same but in a different way, She decided If she wants to change the system she has to be the part of it. She decided to join politics and she won. Despite all odds, Irom stood up for exactly what she believed.

Neerja Bhanot

Neerja Bhanot was a purser for the Pan Am based airlines located in Mumbai, India. On September 5th, 1986, her flight was hijacked by terrorists and she was shot by those terrorists while she was saving hundred of onboard passengers. First of all, she kept her mind cool and calm in the tensed situation with her brave determination she singlehandedly saved the lives of majorities of passengers but unfortunately, some of them lost their lives. Due to her sacrifice, she received the highest gallantry award of India for bravery- Ashoka Chakra Award. Antilog Vacations salute all these inspirational ladies for their handwork and persistence to make this world a better place for women.

[humanrebel]

SPEAKING of ficus, I’ve been writing one for a while now and I don’t plan on sharing it til I’m like 90% done and I just. I like writing like this. Just disappear for a bit to work on something then update it once a week. It might take a while but maybe I won’t feel so burnt out

[captaincityspidey-blog]

Another winter has come and is on its way out. But it is that time of the year that trees and shrubs and plants are under attack from termites, earth worms and more dangerous parasite – Cuscuta (Amarbel) creeper that squeezes out life out of the vegetation it has in its grip.

Every winter, these parasite attacks leaves behind a trail of dead trees on either side of the road, and this time too situation is no different. “This winter, greenery seems to be more affected due to Cuscuta attacks experts and nature lovers of the sub city of Dwarka point out.

Not just the trees, even the shrubs and hedges in the parks of the residential colony are under attack of the parasite creeper that spreads rapidly.

A nature lover and resident of Sector 19 working on spreading awareness to save plants and trees, PK Datta said, “Amar Bel which is also called Dodder Plant grows on its own on trees and shrubs by eating the food from the host plants and entangles them completely. What this creeper does is to the feeder plant.”

It generally kills the host plant or tree. Though this creeper is said to have some medicinal properties, its growth at the cost of other species of plants and trees is not justified, Datta said.

Due care should be taken to remove these creepers and then it should be buried in a deep hole, he said.

This time, new vegetation and hedges are the worst affected.

One can see its spread in the parks in Sectors 3,4,5,6,9,10,11,12,16,17,18,22 and 23.  Residents say that last year only Sector 12 and 19 were affected but this year, other sectors too have been hit by the problem. The tragedy is not neither the government nor the community members are aware of the harmful effect of the creeper on the vegetation in the sub city.

A Scientist (Floriculturist) from Pusa and a resident of Brahma Society Sector 7, RL Mishra said, “this parasite keeps Haustorium (root) which enters in the stems of the plants and trees and takes energy from them. It spreads fast and covers the whole plant in few days.”

An eminent gardener and expert on the subject Vijay Dhasmana focused on several points related to the Cuscuta. On its spread in Delhi he said, “birds are the major carriers of this parasite creeper. The Cuscuta’s fruits are tasty but with glutinous, which are eaten by birds. When they sit on a tree they rub their back side while defecation and thus they leave the seeds on the branches of the trees and plants. This further spreads the parasites which sucks food from the host plants and finally kills them.”

Dhasmana suggested that these parasite plants need to be trimmed and removed at an early stage and burnt after removal.

In Dwarka, hundreds of dead trees can be seen lined up either sides of the roads. Other than the creeper, even termites have attacked them. According to an official from DDA, Horticulture department, Sheesham Trees are worst affected due to the termites and earth worms found in Dwarka area.

The official said research in the area showed that termites and worms were the root cause of the death of several trees. The DDA has now stopped planting Sheesham trees and instead is focusing on Ficus species that can sustain itself in this climate.

[isleprogram]

Thinkin about trees

It’s really difficult to find what the average lifespan of a Bo tree (Ficus religiosa) is, mostly because nobody really knows.  The answers I’ve been able to find have ranged from an understated “over 50 years” to a more poetic but equally unhelpful “perennial.”  The reason for this is that the Bo lifespan can only be guessed at from the earliest descriptions of the tree, both Buddhist and Roman.  The oldest recorded living tree in the world is a Bo tree, Jaya Sri Maha Bodhi, which we visited in Anuradhapura.  This tree is a cutting of the Sri Maha Bodhi in Buddha Gaya, India, which the Buddha is said to have achieved enlightenment under. It is now about 2,266 years old, and its planting by Sanghamitta Thero coincided with the initial push to spread Buddhism in Sri Lanka under the aegis of Emperor Ashoka.  The tree itself is large and visibly old, but looks healthy.  Some branches are too long for their own weight, and are held up by ornamented gold crutches.  One branch is gnarled in a way that looks almost burnt, and this one is said to be the original cutting planted so long ago.  

What really got me about this tree was that it was right there.  At the temple of the tooth, Sri Dalada Maligawa, nobody is ever allowed to see the sacred tooth relic.  There are myriad stories from throughout history about how the relic was destroyed, rematerialized, lost, returned, and hidden.  While these stories add to the sense of awe and mystery around the tooth, my inability to know anything for certain about it led to my skeptical side taking over.  Is there really a tooth in the temple, and is it really the Buddha’s?  I couldn’t help but have doubts.  At Sri Maha Bodhi, this was not the case.  Here I was confronted with an ancient being who has witnessed the rising and falling of empires, countries, religions, and ideas.  It makes sense that the Buddha attained enlightenment under a tree that knows so much; it’s also no wonder that Bo trees were worshipped long before the advent of Buddhism, and by people of other faiths too. So many trees that have seemingly eternal lives or immortal, ever-green leaves are worshipped like the Bo tree is. I think we tend to be fascinated by what will outlive not just us, but anything we can attempt to imagine.  To know that a certain tree, if undisturbed, will likely remain through millennia of incomprehensible changes incites a profound respect for it, and to me even a certain sense of comfort.

My family has been sending me photos of fall leaves turning orange, red, yellow, and brown; it’s making me remember the oncoming winter, and how I’m not experiencing that steady crawl to snow, and silence, and stillness which is so familiar to me.  Looking down at the wrinkled pale-yellow Bo leaf I found on the grounds of Sri Maha Bodhi, I’m thinking that even the pine trees my family brings into our home each winter seem to be standing in for ancient evergreens, symbols of that which is stalwart and unchanging through time.  

Maybe the Christmas tree in my home each winter is the persistence of some primal respect for everything which survives us.  Maybe it’s not.  Maybe the tooth relic defied all odds and survived to the present day.  Maybe it didn’t.  Probably the idea of an ancient respect for all that is forever green and alive, or of the Buddha’s tooth containing supernatural power, is what���s actually important.  But my doubts don’t really matter, because for every one thing I’m skeptical about, there’s always another like Sri Maha Bodhi: completely miraculous, and right there in front of my face.  

-Joey