#firemen pole

[retropopcult]

Washington, D.C., 1922. "Fire layout -- answering the fire bell."  Looks to be posed just for the photographer, given how casual the guy in the left of the frame appears.

[thebestofthebestofthebestof]

Woke up at 7:30 am on my day off to the sound of a huge bang. There was a crazy car crash on my street. Knocked over the light pole thats next to our house. Totally obliterated our neighbors truck...

Dude had a seizure while driving....but no one got hurt thank goodness

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐏𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐦

It was an old wives tale that you put no stock in: that a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach — though this time, it worked, and it worked better than you could have ever imagined. 

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ༄ Fireman!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader x Fireman!Steve Rogers

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ༄ 2.4k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ༄ Fluff, extreme tension of the spicy kind, implication of a poly relationship (Steeb and Bucko are married but it doesn't stop them) and they are menaces

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ༄ Look, I can't help what I did here. I just thought of their uniforms. You're welcome.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ༄ Moments Silence (Common Tongue) by Hozier

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ༄ @stuckybingo 𝗕𝟱 — Firefighter AU — Masterlist

𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

It had been a day. And on days like this, you turned to baking; sugar was a sure-fire way to improve anyone’s mood. 

You weren’t sure how you had gone that overboard, though. Your kitchen, once spotless and organised, was in disarray with trays of muffins and cookies that were overloaded to the point they were almost overflowing. 

It wasn’t a baking disaster, no — it was just a severe overestimation of the ingredients, that’s all.

The clouds out of your kitchen window looked stormy and grey, and a steady breeze rustled the trees lining your yard, and you sighed, glancing back down at the array of sweets. You came to a decision then. The firemen — and firewomen — at your local station; they were always giving to the community, fearlessly putting their lives on the line to save others and help them.

They deserved some sweet treats, too. 

With your arms ladened with containers of baked goods, you placed them on the back seat of your car and then started the engine. The fire station of your small town wasn’t too far away, so you cranked up the volume of your radio and began the quick drive, a big smile on your face.

There was a bus parked just down the road with the sign for children boarding, and the smile on your face widened. Today must have been field trip day, and where better to do it than here? Children were standing just inside the station's roller doors where a truck sat, lights flashing bright; red and blue bouncing and reflecting off of gleeful, childish smiles. 

You hummed quietly to yourself and parked your car, a small distance away to keep the driveway clear — after all, emergencies didn’t stop just because children and baked goods appeared. 

A loud whoop of a siren echoed as you made your way to the open roller door and the children squealed, making you grin behind the towering containers in your arms, overjoyed to have picked such a cheerful day to share. 

“Kids, settle down,” a deep voice called, the smile evident in the tone. You peered around the doorway and saw a fireman, a toothy smile surrounded by an immaculate goatee. “Now, are you ready to see how we get down the pole,” the man pointed over his shoulder towards the shining fireman’s pole by the stairs, “over there?”

A collective cheer came from the children and you lowered your arms just a little bit so you could see over the top container better. The doorway was partially in the way so you stepped inside, and the man spotted you. “Hi there,” he said, and you smiled back. “Just a minute. Buck can help you when he gets down here.”

“No worries at all,” you said, and Sam — as his name badge on his chest showed — winked before turning back towards the pole.

“Buck, Steve! Show these kids how it’s done.”

Heaven above, you were not ready for what would come sliding down that damned pole. 

The squeak from the sole of boots and the pull of skin against metal sounded and your mouth opened in a quiet gasp, the containers nearly tumbling from your arms. 

A blonde man, the size of a fucking tree, you swore, slid down first. The pants of his uniform were held up by red suspenders that lay over an extremely muscled chest, on full display through an extremely tight grey shirt. He landed on the cement floor with a grunt and spread his arms out, a wide, toothy grin on his face as he took in the clapping children. 

“C’mon, Buck,” he called, looking up at the hole in the roof. “Get down ‘ere!”

It was a miracle that the children cheered again, because the noise that left you when ‘Buck’ slid down the pole was not dignified. 

‘Buck’ was just as, if not, taller than the blonde you assumed now was Steve, and definitely broader. Dark brown hair fell down his face in strands while the rest was kept up in a messy bun. His grin was wide, happy, and bright, and his face was covered in a light dusting of stubble. The dark red, almost burgundy shirt that he was wearing was arguably tighter than Steve’s.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered when Bucky stood next to Steve, throwing a tattooed arm over Steve’s shoulder, grinning down at the kids that barely reached their knees. “Oh, fuck.”

Fate wanted to laugh at you, however, because it was at that moment that both Steve and Buck looked over at the open doorway, their grins growing wider by tenfold once they managed a glance at your floundering expression. 

“Take care a’her,” Sam, the man with the goatee said before gathering and herding the kids towards the far wall, where uniforms and helmets hung ash stained, but proud.

They sauntered over, and it was all you could do to not fall to the floor with wobbling knees. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Steve said brightly, and you bit back a whimper. “What can we do for you?”

Uselessly, you glanced between the two of them – struck by how damn handsome they were up close. It put all your calendars to shame. 

“Doll?” Buck said, raising a brow and offering his arms to take the containers. “Lemme take them for you.”

“Thank you,” you squeaked, immediately growing anxious at the loss of the barrier you had to hide behind. “I-I baked them for you guys, as a thank you for all you do for us–”

“Is that a batch of cookies I see?”

Bucky turned at the voice, but Steve was still staring at you, a smirk growing on his pretty pink lips–stop it! You chided yourself. 

“Clint, back off, they’re mine!” Buck yelled, pulling the containers tighter to his chest and shifting closer to Steve until their shoulders bumped.

A snort sounded behind them and you watched another blond approach, rolling his eyes. “Yeah,” Clint said, waving a hand as he entered what looked like an office. “Like your husband would protect you when he could take them all for himself.”

Immediately you looked at Bucky’s left hand, ignoring the way the intricate tattoos contrasted against his skin in the light, and saw two gold bands — one wider than the other with black and red stones. You felt crestfallen, it was a shame–

“What’re you staring at, sweetheart?” Steve piped up suddenly, a dangerously mischievous glint in his eyes. “You eyein’ up my husband?”

The ground couldn’t swallow you whole quick enough, and your eyes widened. “No!”

Buck laughed and shook his head. “Like you weren’t enjoyin’ it, punk.” The containers shifted in his arms and he offered his hand. “I’m Bucky, and this here is Steve.” You offered your name and gasped as Bucky pulled on your hand, placing a soft kiss on your knuckles. 

“Stop swooning and just ask her out for coffee, you fool,” Steve snapped and rolled his eyes, taking the containers from Bucky and striding away, pausing only to wink at you. 

Time had frozen. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “What the hell just happened?”

“Ignore him, he’s an idiot,” Bucky said, staring at what you would guess to be Steve’s ass as he walked away. “Anyway,” he turned back to you and you realised belatedly that he was still holding your hand. “Thank you, doll, we appreciate it a lot.”

You looked up at him and smiled the best you could — you were still reeling from the shock of whatever the hell just happened. “You’re welcome,” you said quietly, and Bucky tilted his head slightly. It was like a punch to the gut, seeing his hair brush against his cheeks, and the way his grey eyes shone in the light. “I better go–”

“Where you goin’?” Bucky interrupted. He was still not letting go of your hand. 

Staring up at him, you struggled for words before settling on, “Home.”

Bucky raised a single brow in question, and shook his head slightly, as if amused. “You don’t sound so sure about that, honey.”

Oh, god, you thought. 

“Come stay a while, the kids are leavin’ soon,” Bucky said, gesturing towards the kids with a nod of his head. “And this way we can give our compliments to the baker directly.” His smirk — god, it would be the death of you. “I owe you a coffee, c’mon.”

The tug on your hand was like a jumpstart to your heart, and you followed on autopilot while Bucky walked towards another door. His heavy boots slapped against the floor and you watched his back ripple as he walked, barely restraining yourself to just reach out and run your hand over the muscle, to feel the power and strength of them. 

“There he is,” Steve said suddenly, his head poking out the door just ahead. “I was about to come and pull you off her.”

“Like you wouldn’t join in, punk,” Bucky huffed, and you stiffened, your mind racing. Just what kind of marriage was this? 

The door opened and Bucky pulled you inside. It was a breakroom of some description with lockers lining one side of the room, while tables littered the middle, surrounded by mismatched soft chairs. A red-haired woman was perched on a black chair just inside the entry, while a younger man stood at the lockers – both of them were staring right at you as you entered behind Bucky, the young man with wide eyes, the woman with narrowed eyes, like she was appraising you.

“Who’s this?” The red-head asked, a sly smirk pulling at her lips when she glanced down to see Bucky still holding your hand.

“This is the lovely dove that baked us all these goodies,” Clint piped up suddenly behind you. 

The young man ran towards Steve who was setting out the baked treats, snatching one with a laugh when Steve pushed him away. “Kid, you got no damn patience, d’you?”

“No,” he answered, and he looked at you, waving happily. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

“Hi Peter,” you said softly. Bucky pulled you closer again and you were suddenly against his side, his arm over your shoulder and all you could smell was him — woodsmoke, some kind of spice, and just Bucky. You gulped quietly and smiled at the red-head who stood slowly and made her way over to the table, then Steve. “I hope you like them,” you gestured to the containers.

“Make way!”

Bucky pulled you to stand beside the door and the man with the goatee appeared, grinning happily and making a beeline to the table of containers. “That’s Sam,” Bucky whispered, pointing at Sam’s back with the hand over your shoulder. “He’s the fire chief.” Then he pointed at the woman, a slight smile on his lips when you looked up at him. “That’s Nat, and I am terrified of her.”

“I heard that, Barnes,” Nat said suddenly, her back still to you as she perused what was on offer. “Watch it.”

Unseen by her, Bucky grimaced exaggeratedly and saluted. You laughed.

“Alright,” Steve said, clapping his hands. He took a seat on a couch you didn’t notice before and he patted the cushion next to him. “Come sit down, sweetheart,” he said, though you had no choice because Bucky had started to steer you towards him. “You deserve to enjoy your baking, too.”

You landed with an oof against Steve’s side, and Bucky followed, sitting on the free cushion with a loud groan. “Haven’t sat down all day,” he complained. Steve rolled his eyes and offered you a muffin that you took with a smile. 

The containers slowly emptied and so did the room. Clint, Natasha, Peter, and Sam had filtered out to the office, leaving you alone with Steve and Bucky. 

“So, sweetheart,” Steve purred suddenly, and your gaze snapped to his face. You could feel Bucky shift next to you but you were trapped in Steve’s gaze, a deer in headlights. “What d’you say, huh?”

You baulked, not even registering Bucky’s hand on your shoulders, slowly moving up to grip the back of your neck. “What?”

Steve chuckled and Bucky huffed a laugh, putting more pressure on the back of your neck – enough to cause you to shiver. “Come home with us, doll,” Bucky said, his voice low and hoarse. A shudder flew up your spin and you couldn’t form words. It was all too much of a shock–

An alarm echoed in the breakroom and you jumped a foot in the air. 

“Damn it all,” Steve groaned.

Bucky looked to the ceiling and let go of your neck. “Always the fuckin’ way.”

“What’s happening?” You asked, looking between the two as they got to their feet, slight frowns on their lips. 

“Time to go save lives,” Steve winked. “Tell ‘er, Buck, I’ll see you out there.”

You watched Bucky nod and offer a hand to pull you up, only when you took it, he pulled you tight to his chest, a slight chuckle rumbling in his throat when you let out a small noise of surprise. His hands gripped your shoulders and pushed you back so he had to bend slightly to look you in the eye, it was all you could do to not whine needily at the action — why was he so damn tall, you cursed. 

“Here,” Bucky said, pulling a small card and a pen from his pants pocket. He stood there for a second scrawling something, and then he handed it to you. It was a phone number. “Call me later.”

There was a shout from out by the truck and Bucky winced. “I gotta go, doll,” he rushed, and he placed a quick kiss on your cheek, the stubble on his jaw tickling slightly. 

“Okay,” you said numbly, still in shock. Bucky smiled and ran from the room; the yells of his crew audible even over the alarm. Slowly, you ran your finger over where he kissed your cheek. 

You couldn’t shake the warmth you felt when you sat next to Steve, nor could you shake the comfort you felt from Bucky’s touch. It was surreal. They were married to one another, but yet, here they were so openly flirting with you – you were intrigued, happy even for that fact.

Suddenly, as you walked back to your car parked a small way away, thumbing at the small card in your hand, you realised bringing treats to the station may have just changed your life. 

And you could not wait.

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[tkachuktkaching]

Tkachuk has ‘really special’ day bringing Stanley Cup home to St. Louis

Panthers forward visits first responders, children’s hospital with famed trophy

ST. LOUIS -- Matthew Tkachuk remembers visiting family in Boston, the first stop usually being the North End fire department where his grandfather, John Tkachuk, was the chief.

“We’d ride the pole, try the hat on, sometimes we’d go for a ride even though I don’t know if that’s allowed,” the Florida Panthers forward said with a laugh on Thursday. “It was super cool and anytime I see firemen, on duty or off, I always make sure to go say ‘Hi’.”

And when Tkachuk had his day with the Stanley Cup on Thursday, the Brentwood Fire Department, located about 15 minutes west of his hometown of St. Louis in Brentwood, Missouri, was one of the stops he definitely had to make.

It was an enjoyable day for Tkachuk, who had 61 points (24 goals, 37 assists) in 71 regular-season games and 22 points (six goals, 16 assists) in 24 Stanley Cup Playoff games to help the Panthers win their first Cup championship last month.

His time with the Cup actually began Wednesday, when he took it to lunch at Grassi’s Ristorante in Frontenac, Missouri, about 15 minutes west of St. Louis.

On Thursday he brought the Cup to his elementary school, Villa Duchesne in St. Louis, the St. Louis Children’s Hospital and the Brentwood police and fire departments.

“It’s been amazing," he said. "I’m trying to have that little mix of fitting everything I want possible in, but also want to enjoy it with those who are close to me. It’s been awesome so far and I’m sure the day’s going to continue to be awesome.”

There was no riding on the pole at the fire department this time, but Tkachuk did try on a fireman’s hat, saying that “it was a little snug. I’ve got a big head, but it was good.” He also took photos with the firemen and their families, displaying the Cup in the department and outside in front of one of the fire trucks.

Brentwood assistant fire chief Ed Beirne said when he told his staff that Tkachuk would be coming by with the Cup, “I didn’t think their eyes and mouths could open any wider.

“It’s an honor for us to actually be considered,” said Beirne, whose grandson, Faris, was placed in the Cup for one of the photos.

“Although we know the Tkachuk family is part of Brentwood, growing up around here, this is a massive effort to win the Cup. For them to remember and humble us by sharing his day with the Cup, I know he gets it for a short amount of time, but to share that time with us and then bring a lot of joy to the staff and family we were able to assemble, that is what’s really special about public safety and the NHL in general. It’s a family sport. All of us have played it, it’s a family, and this is a testament to that.”

When Tkachuk brought the Cup to the police department, he was joined by his immediate family, including brother Brady, captain of the Ottawa Senators, and father Keith, the former NHL forward who had 1,065 points (538 goals, 527 assists) in 1,201 games with the Winnipeg Jets, Phoenix Coyotes, Atlanta Thrashers and St. Louis Blues.

Brady was catching up with Matthew after some early-morning training.

“I can’t just be riding his coattails. Have to prepare for next season,” Brady said with a laugh.

“This is our childhood dream, just to see it up close and personal, to see how happy and genuinely excited and fulfilled and satisfied Matthew is, it’s amazing to see. It’s been awesome to see, and it’s definitely created that burning desire for me to provide that for my family and friends, too.”

Matthew took photos with individual officers and staff members, who were hesitant as they approached the Cup.

“Anybody that knows anything about hockey knows the Cup is sacred, so we’re scared to touch it,” Brentwood police chief Joseph Spiess Jr. said.

“The Tkachuk family has a strong presence in Brentwood. Not only do we get to protect them, but we get to share in their celebration, so it’s cool for us. Most of the people in this building are huge fans, sports generally, but hockey in particular.”

When the Vegas Golden Knights won the Cup in 2023, it marked the first time that names were engraved on the Cup prior to players and staff getting their respective days with it. It was something Matthew appreciated.

“It’s really special for my family. Years and years and years of hockey in our blood and for grandparents and extended family that come to my house and see that Tkachuk name on the Cup there, it’s truly such a special thing,” Matthew said.

The family had its own time with the Cup by midday Thursday. After bringing home some barbecue, Brady and Keith, along with Matthew’s sister, Taryn, mom Chantal and his fiancée, Ellie Connell, took turns taking a sip of beer out of it.

Tkachuk had already spent some quality time with the Cup. He and a few Panthers teammates brought it to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, on June 25, the day after they defeated the Edmonton Oilers 2-1 in Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final. That day, they brought it to the Elbo Room, a bar near the beach, and Tkachuk carried the Cup into the Atlantic Ocean.

But there’s something special about bringing it back to your hometown.

“It hasn’t sunk in,” Keith said. “It’s been so much fun watching Matthew with the Cup with other people. That means more than winning, so it’s so cool. We’re pretty proud. He’s been around, grew up here, wants to be a part of it and he took it everywhere. Everybody’s loving it. We’re loving it.”

via nhl.com

Photos © Tracey Myers

[tanuki-kimono]

From our recent event of the fourth of July in the USA, I was also thinking of Japan's summer festivals. Besides yukata, are there kimonos that have festival themes like fireworks, festival decorations/sceneries, specific patterns, specific colors, etc.?

Japanese traditional culture is all about celebrating seasonality so indeed summer matsuri themed patterns are pretty common on summery items :)

(note that I used summer here in the Western sense of July/August. Traditional Japanese summer goes from something like May to July)

Yukata+kimono+obi+uchiwa are a staple, you can also find happi (tube sleeves coats) but those tend to bear mon (crests) and auspicious kanji.

Other festival garments count for example yosakoi (type of dance groups) uniforms, but those are more performance oriented. Otherwise, what would be a matsuri without fundoshi loincloth ;) (see how to tie one here)

On the top of my head, summer festival patterns can include (please note some are not summer only):

hanabi (fireworks)

dashi/yatai (parade float), used during processions. Mikoshi (portable shrine) is theorically possible but I don't remember seeing such a pattern

kingyo (goldfishes), kingyosukui is a popular summer game

fuurin (windchimes), often sold at matsuri

men (masks), most often kitsune or tengu but many more exist

toys, like dendendaiko (rattle drum) for ex.

matoi (firemen poles), brigades often present acrobatic shows in summer

chouchin (paper lantern), also see Obon below

etc.

Japan holds a myriad matsuri all across the country, each with their own traditions. But big celebrations often have related patterns:

Tanabata has stars, bamboo, tanzaku, magpies, ox, etc.

Obon has lanterns, cucumber, eggplant, death themed motifs (like nozarashi or graveplates), nod to Kyoto's Daimonji kanji, etc.

Famous festivals also have their own imagery (yamaboko float for Gion matsuri ex.).

As for colors, scarlet red is often found on matsuri decors, and indigo blue is a classical summer color (yukata were once dyed with it), but tbh any can be used nowadays :)

[richie-shitlips]

(MY BAD!!!!) What is your take on Highschool ladies at 5 o’clock!!!! That song still perplexes me

ooo!! ok!

so in the production i'm in right now, we're showing high school ladies as a sorta musical act that marvin went to see as a teen and wasn't interested in (but went for his sweetheart), but that's just for staging purposes cause this song isn't meant to be taken literally (it's a fantasy!)

in 1985 in trousers, it's immediately following I Swear I Won't Ever Again, which ends with the lines "he'd compromise that we / lay on the floor and fantasize" (he being jason), for those who haven't heard the song yet (i definitely don't have an audio recording saved to my phone of the whole show on broadway...) that's not really relevant to my analysis either i'm just putting all my thoughts here :3

the second verse in the 1979 version implies underage prostitution i think, with the whole idea of "waiting in the street." "underneath the local fire engine" could continue on that cause firemen use poles and so do a lot of prostitutes

the repetition of the whole song shows how marvin views relationships and sex with women. repetitive and boring.

sweetheart asking about his interests and performance in bed (is he better than banana?) and marvin responding negatively (fucking screaming) is like him rejecting her advances. no idea why he's got a chair on his head (the stage directions in the 1979 version say "MARVIN, behind the venetian blind with a chair on his head:")

that's all i can think of right now!! thanks for the ask :)

[cactus-with-boobs]

If I’m going to hell I’m going down on one of those poles that firemen use

[alintheshitposter]

@versti-fantur

[sage-nebula]

From ages eight to ten in elementary school, whenever I went outside to play at recess . . . well, there were a few games I would play. But in the latter half of the school year, on days with brilliant sunshine and spring breezes that were cool enough to be refreshing but still nowhere near cold, and carried the scent of fresh grass and blooming flowers—on those days, especially, I would pretend I was a Pokémon Trainer.

Specifically, I pretended I had a Charizard, and that I could fly around on dragonback. Whether it was by flying high on the swings before jumping off, scaling to the tops of the jungle gyms and monkey bars, throwing myself off the jungle gyms to swing down the firemen poles—whatever I was doing on those warm, sunny spring days, in my mind, I was really flying on my Charizard.

Now, 26 odd years later, I obviously don't have recess anymore. But there are days when I walk outside in the spring and the sun shines brilliantly against a bright blue sky, and the refreshing breeze carries the scent of fresh grass and blooming flowers, and my heart swells with the thought, This would be the perfect day for a dragon flight.

[newyorkthegoldenage]

Henry, fellow mascot of Engine Company No. 65, FDNY, slides down the brass pole from the bunkroom in authentic firefighter style, January 26, 1941. He greets Cappy, his Dalmatian co-mascot, who rides the engine while Henry guards quarters during the firemen's response to alarms.

Photo: Underwood Archives via Fine Art America

[artaxlivs]

Hello me again because I feel like being annoying and I'm a slut just for the words Fireman Steve.

So please? 🥺

Saaaaame. Just the idea of Steve in those cargo pants and polos the firemen wear when they're on duty but not at a fire?? Jesus. Anyway - thank you for asking! Happy to oblige with the full opening of the fic so we know just what kind of shenanigans are happening here. (Also, this JUST happened in my neighborhood which is what gave me the idea)

"Who was that?" Steve asks when Dustin groans and hangs up the phone. Rolling his eyes, Dustin sighs but starts toward the bay, "Mrs. Click. She says there's an alligator being chased down her street by a cat." Lucas and Mike both slide down the pole so close together that it's a genuine miracle that neither of them beans the other in the head. "An alligator? In Hawkins?" Lucas pulls a face. Mike jogs over to the common room couch, dropping a kiss on the top of Will's head, "You okay to hold down the fort while we go battle whatever suburban dragon is eating cats on Maple Ave?" Will scoffs but doesn't even look up from his book, "Yeah, you guys go ahead. As fun as that sounds, I think I'll stay here." "You want us to bring you back something? Boots? A purse? Maybe a nice belt?" Steve calls out to Will as he grabs his sunglasses from the counter and heads toward the bay and the already idling rig. Poking his head back in, Dustin screeches, "Absolutely not, Steve! We don't make jokes about making accessories out of animals!" "Calm down," Steve bitches, "I was only kidding. Did you at least remember to bring a Three Musketeers to bait it with like you did the last dragon we got a call for?" "Shut up, Steve."

[new-berry]

When I was only semen in a gland / Or less than that, my father hung / From a torture post at Mud Farm / Because he would not kill.

James K Baxter.

The last four objectors, Henry Patton, Lawrence Kirwan, Mark Briggs, and Archibald Baxter, were all sentenced to the most serious punishment short of imprisonment: Field Punishment No. 1. In principle this involved a standing man being tied loosely to a pole by his hands, but in practice the sloping poles forced men into a hanging position which cut off circulation to the hands and caused extreme pain.

….impressive sculpture which is an abstract representation of the brutal Field Punishment No. 1. In the words of the designers: “The focal point of the design is a 3.2m-high sculpture, entitled ‘We Will Bend but not be Broken.’ It is composed of 70 450mm-wide stacked schist discs that represent a leaning figure, with a dark patinated bronze sphere suggestive of a human head. The sculpture represents the human form which has been pushed to its physical and mental limits. The rough-cut stone suggests the brutality of the infamous Field Punishment No 1, while the bronze head, apparently bowing to coercion, could conversely portray a state of strength and grace.”

Peace is not the opposite of war, it is the opposite of conflict.

Wage peace with your breath.

Breathe in firemen and rubble,

breathe out whole buildings and flocks of red wing blackbirds.

Breathe in terrorists

and breathe out sleeping children and freshly mown fields.

Judyth Hill

[manwalksintobar]

Why Are You Writing These // Alice Notley

  to try to remember what you is that nothing much happens for 17 years it was rich living in isolation in a populous city remember when I hated my neighbor because he was noisy I didn’t hate him I couldn’t look at him I wanted to kick him out     he held raves every weekend I called the cops a lot and worked with a certain policeman who discovered my neighbor had been arrested in Bordeaux for breaking furniture     he finally stopped paying rent had to leave then the gardienne and I gave thumbs-up signs across rue des Messageries     she has since moved to Valencia I’m interested in how totally against him I was you could say I have sensitive ears that simply react his mother came up from Toulouse once to help him clean we were overrun with mice she caught seven one morning with glue traps excuse me she said I’m the mother of your neighbor who’s sometimes noisy do you have mice I tried to tell her I’d seen them slide down the gas-pole like firemen but I didn’t have the French for that and French firemen don’t she had a dream of moving to San Diego I don’t mind any of it except for my ears I was born receptive and sound shakes me up I have a poem in which the universe is like a vocal cord it must also be an ear infinite reception music destroys thought poetry is it I couldn’t have been bothered to tell this story in prose     A decision was taken after time began to maintain a prose universe I have been bored ever since and keep to myself though contrarily trying to save you from the materials of your destructive lives masses of noise anything to forget what and maybe I am only a nerve or am nerve if you could remember shut up and remember or is it not remember I am in a state of vibration every possible sound available why or is it only something to do the one thing to do or is it only Helen Morgan again singing Why was I born / Why am I living I have nothing to show for my time but poems what do you have

[forensicated]

04x09 - Country Cousin

Burnside arrives at Kings Cross to collect a visiting DS Jarvis from Matlock. Jarvis' train is apparently delayed by half an hour. Frank buys himself a burger to fill time, but spots DS Jarvis before he can tuck in. (He can tell he's a copper without even speaking to him - I guess like can tell like!) He came in on an earlier train as he wanted to get his wife a present to take back. DS Jarvis is an uncultured country bumpkin and has no idea what Frank is on about when he tells him - using slang - that he has Jim and Mike waiting for them "in the vicinity of the house where your man is shacked up."

Taffy and Malcolm are called to an accident where a bus has crashed into building supplies with scaffolding poles having breached the front of the bus. Taffy cuts the engine of the bus before managing to force the doors open. The driver is badly injured and passengers are panicking to either be let out or shouting for help for other passengers. Upstairs is an elderly man who is out cold after falling from a standing position when the crash happened. He slowly comes round as Taffy directs a young lady to secure his head. An elderly lady is bleeding from a cut but seems otherwise alright. Downstairs Malcolm tries to keep the driver awake, calm and still as there are poles dangerously near his body.

Tom is driven to his hospital appointment by Viv. She tells him to look on the bright side as he'll soon be able to chase the girls again. He's arriving hours too early but Tom says he's looking forward to getting his teeth into some real police work "terrorising the public."

Taffy and Malcolm try to keep control of the passengers to find out what has happened. From the sounds of it, the driver didn't stop for the last few stops and may have suffered a medical episode whilst driving. They return back inside to help with the other injured passengers inside the bus.

Jarvis is unimpressed with London and how busy it is. Frank snarks that his suspect must have set fire to some straw bales. Finally, they pull up beside Jim and Mike who tell them the suspect is still inside. Mike and Jim take the back of the house whilst Frank and Jarvis take the front. Jarvis brings the gift for his wife with him(!) Mike and Jim find the back gate locked so try to climb over the wall...

The dog is chained up so they inch towards the back door of the house. Frank and Jarvis see a man come to the front door but he walks away once he's realised they're police. Jarvis continually presses the doorbell and punches the suspect in the nose when he finally opens the door, claiming he needs to learn respect for the law. Frank pushes him back and warns him to leave it out.

A trauma doctor arrives to help the passengers as the driver is weakening before he can be cut out. Soon after his heart stops and Taffy and the fire brigade have to act to quickly get him laid flat so the doctor can perform CPR. With the driver flat they also take the opportunity to remove him from the bus to be able to help him properly.

Viv wishes Tom good luck as she pulls outside the force doctors but he doesn't move. "If I'm not a copper I'm a nobody..." he worries. Viv tells him there's nothing wrong with him and urges him to go inside.

Taffy, Malcolm and the firemen help get the driver into the back of the ambulance once his heart has been restarted. The manager of the bus company tells them that the driver has no known history of illness and has been with them for 7 years. Taffy tries to get him to contact next of kin but he complains bus drivers are in short supply and that he's going to have to get someone else to drive the route.

Mike and Jim take the suspect to the station with Frank marching Jarvis to his car. "You think you're a bit of a hard nut don't you!" Jarvis told his wife he'd be back in time for supper so he didn't want to prolong things! Frank is not impressed. "No copper comes onto my manor and starts GBH'ing suspects in front of me." Frank decides he's going to give him a special welcome and drives him to a dark and seedy strip club. Jarvis is amazed and can't take his eyes from the women inside. In the gift bag is something 'personal' and he's still carrying it around with him. He catches Frank trying to nose.

Frank has to return to the station so leaves Mike to watch Jarvis. The owner tries to charge Mike £18 for a single brandy 'with entertainment thrown in'. Mike refuses and the owner offers to 'work out a discount'. Mike tells him he might be Burnsides 'great mate' but he's a ponce to him and suggests his 'discount' includes not being nicked for living off immoral earnings. Unfortunately, as Mike turns around, Jarvis has gone walkies and is nowhere to be seen. Mike drives off to try to find him.

Taffy and Malcolm follow the stretcher into the hospital, covered in the bus driver's blood. They share a drink until the driver's wife arrives. Mrs Williams denies her husband is on drugs and explains that he's epileptic. He purposely didn't declare it so he could keep his job. He's knowingly committed an offense. Mrs Williams is taken away by the doctor to see her husband.

Tom sits in the doctor's, eyeing over the other injured and sick officers gathered around him, all wanting to be signed back to work. He has a medical and is assessed by the doctor who gives him no clues either way. It'll be a month until he knows for sure.

Jarvis has finally made a reappearance. He's angrily thrown out of the strip club by the manager and what looks like a brothel madam. He fights to go back inside and brawls with the security. Mike hears the call come over the radio and turns back to try to get there before any other officers do. Viv answers the call officially with Tom who gets a bit of a spark back in himself at the thought of being the first on the scene. They separate the fighting group and try to find out what happened. Jarvis tells Mike that they'd tried to bill him for £120. "A carrot cruncher I may be. A fool with me money? Never."

Jarvis calls his wife to tell her that he might not be home that night because he's having to go 'undercover for the MET'. He insists it was his cover story for the black eye he received. Frank wants him gone on the next train but Tom insists he can't as they're charging the bouncer and club owner with assault on him, for running a brothel and for procuring underage girls for prostitution. Tom is even more amused when he realises that the owner is a friend of Frank's.

Frank finally gets rid of him with his prisoner and tells him to send someone else next time 'his lot needs some help.' He still doesn't get to look in the gift bag after all that!

[my-sibling-wears-a-muumuu]

firemen are like pole dancers

[klc-archive]

Casualty@Holby City is the name given to special crossover episodes of BBC medical dramas Casualty and Holby City. While Casualty was launched on 6 September 1986, and its spin-off Holby City was first aired on 12 January 1999, the first full crossover episode between the two programmes was not broadcast until 26 December 2004.

Part 2: As firefighters struggle to contain the aftermath of the explosion, Connie is joined in theatre by Harry as they continue the transplant by torchlight. Rosie and Jim manage to get the baby to safety, but as debris falls, Rosie is impaled on a piece of metal. Bex, having been trapped under rubble and abandoned by the fake pharmaceutical representative, is discovered by firemen and carried to safety. Alistair abandons the transplant and jumps from a fifth floor window. Critically injured, he talks nurse Donna Jackson through a life saving procedure on another patient before dying. Inside the building, Jim removes the metal pole from Rosie’s abdomen, and all those still trapped in the building congregate in the hospital’s isolation room. From outside, consultant Ric Griffin guides Connie to a maintenance corridor and bridge which will lead those trapped to a point where firefighters are waiting for them. The bridge is in a state of near collapse and the floor below is engulfed with flames, but one by one, the group make it across. Rosie is last to cross, helped by Jim and Harry. Suddenly, the fake pharmaceutical representative rushes across behind them, damaging the bridge further and falling to his death. Jim and Rosie are left hanging from the broken bridge, with Harry unable to hold both their weight. Jim saves Rosie’s life by letting go, also falling to his death.