barrel set

Talks Machina Summary - Episode 98
  • Everyone is super excited about the Critical Role Hamilton fan-project, and everyone is tempted to secretly audition for their characters.
  • Liam got Laura a quiver for her birthday, as well as an old copy of Twelfth Night and feathers for her hair. Brian: “Can we give this away for gif of the week?” Laura: “…no.”
  • Vax would happily stay retired, given the choice.
  • Vex is “a little fucked up” after seeing Keyleth die. That’s what made her start thinking of and worrying about Scanlan again.
  • The betta fish from last week has been moved into a big tank and is doing great.
  • Marisha: “Keyleth’s a jumper, she likes jumping. She’s still gonna be a jumper, that isn’t gonna change.”
  • Marisha and Laura have both put some thought into DMing.
  • Liam thinks of his Luck feat as the Raven Queen occasionally guiding him past potholes.
  • Laura is terrified any time Vex has to negotiate and always feels the pressure.
  • Liam purposely made a character for the next campaign who never has to be cool or confident, because it’s so stressful. Marisha, on the other hand, is gonna be “a cool… dick” next time.
  • Laura: “Taliesin has the ability to be slick and eloquent on the fly.” Marisha: “He’s cool and it’s not a big deal, it’s not fair!” Liam mentions that he’s always cool and collected even when things go wrong. Brian points out that it’s in line with what Taliesin’s said about Percy having sort of a teenage mentality.
  • Asked about Percy and Vax’s renewed friendship, Liam talks about how it’s softened over time. “I think people thought that Vax was angry longer than he actually was.” Vax knew that Percy titling Vex was a kind gesture made out of love, but was concerned about Vex’s reaction and the way she embraced it, that she might’ve bought into everything that was held over them over all those years. Vax’s reaction to the elves’ disdain was “fuck this bullshit”, whereas Vex’s reaction was “I want that,” and it worried him that she was still in that mindset. Liam emphasizes that any time Percy and Vax have an intense scene, he and Taliesin are giggling about it afterwards, and that Percy’s death wiped any remnants of the resentment between the characters away.
  • Vex is still haunted by the things Saundor said.
  • Often in their arguments, Marisha agrees with Percy and Taliesin agrees with Keyleth, and they have to play against type.
  • Keyleth acts a lot out of the knowledge that she’ll still be around in centuries to see the long-term consequences, but she’s also starting to learn to be more diplomatic, less self-righteous, and a bit more world-weary.
  • Vax is going to keep leveling in Paladin and likely won’t take more levels in Rogue. “He’s married to the Raven Queen at this point.”
  • Marisha talks about how she loves when Laura and Liam bicker out-of-character and it mirrors their characters. Laura: “…I don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s always in character.”
  • Vex hasn’t owned up yet to reading the in-case-of-death letter Percy wrote.
  • After the year’s break, VM is now Keyleth’s permission to be silly. “I’m only a dumbass when I’m around these dumbasses.”
  • Vax thinks Scanlan’s not in any danger, and thinks they’re fated to wind up back together again. Vex knows about the drugs, and that’s given her cause for concern.
  • To help deal with the ridiculously long druid spell list, Marisha cuts some out that Keyleth wouldn’t use in an RP sense, but it’s still really difficult to stay on top of the absurd number she has to pick from.
  • Marisha realizes that Keyleth was alone when she put her hand into the orb and the others probably don’t realize that happened. She thinks her nat20 save on that occasion may have been the most important roll for her character. Asked about most important rolls, Liam goes with the Luck roll and “left” moment against Umbrasyl, and also the double-ones during the walk of shame. Laura goes with the double nat20s against the Briarwoods to rescue Vax, and her nat20 during Percy’s resurrection ritual.
  • For the Battle Royale, Keyleth and Grog are probably the big targets. Laura points out that the choice of map will make a big difference.

Talks Machina Becomes the Darkness:

  • Marisha hosts!
  • Asked if any of them have any weapons skills IRL: a lot of the group does archery in their backyards. Liam: “I have very few skills in general.” Everyone starts listing off his skills, which includes making great Pinterest boards. This leads to Laura talking about how she and Ashley are often on Pinterest at the same time even if she’s in New York. “Somewhere out there…”
  • Liam is distracted mid-answer by Laura’s burp. “That wasn’t too bad!” “Yes, but I am reminded of fifty other burps.”
  • A question is asked and… takes a while to get answered. Things go a little off the rails. Speed 2: Cruise Control. Keanu Reeves. Johnny Mnemonic.
  • Favorite low rolls: Keyleth getting arrested repeatedly. Vex falling off the broom. Liam brings up the ultimate: nat1 arrow through Scanlan’s neck during target practice.
  • The map of Emon on the wall of the set was dyed by Taliesin and framed by Laura. The barrel on the set was haggled for at a flea market by Laura.
  • Marisha: “Don’t forget to worry, it’s almost maybe Thursday.”

anonymous asked:

Andreil 2

2. “You’re too young to hate the world.”

Neil wasn’t particularly keen on doing talk shows, even though he wasn’t in hiding anymore, and even though Riko was no longer in the picture to make unexpected appearances and ruin everything. There are just some things that one never quite grows accustomed to, and putting on a friendly facade for the media is one of the things Neil knows he will never, ever get the hang of.

The whole lineup of the Foxes had been invited to TV shows all over the country to be interviewed after their historic defeat of the Ravens, and while Wymack got them out of most of them, there were some offers that he couldn’t back out of. Which is why on one particular Wednesday, the Foxes piled onto the bus to head to an afternoon interview with one of the most popular afternoon talk-show hosts in the Exy world.

“Now listen up you rascals,” Wymack hollered from the front of the bus once they had started moving, “don’t you even think about fucking around on this interview. If we want to boost our public image and show that we’re honorable athletes and competitors, be on your best behavior. Dan, you do most of the talking if you can help it. Kevin and Matt, you two back her up. Neil, I swear to god, if you even look like you’re going to be snide I will have you off that stage in three seconds flat.”

Neil, seated in the very back with Andrew at his side, nodded. He thought he could manage to keep quiet for a 20-minute segment, especially if there were eight other people up there with him.

He was wrong.

Keep reading

5

Elaborately Engraved and Inlaid Four Barrel Swivel Breech Percussion Combination Gun by M. J. Whitmore of Potsdam, New York

from Rock Island Auctions

“M. J. Whitmore of Potsdam, New York, worked at the Wagon & Gun Shop and is believed to have been the man who trained Lewis L. Hepburn of Remington fame. He was one of the men listed on a breech loading patent in 1860 and also received a patent for a "clock, calendar.” Many of Whitmore’s surviving firearms utilize the swivel breech mechanism and have long metal actions like this example. Most, however, are over/under combination guns, but this unusual mid-19th century arm has four barrels. Three are .40 caliber and rifled and one is .410 caliber smoothbore. The paired rifle barrels share a blade front sight and adjustable notch rear sight, and the other rifled barrel and smoothbore barrel have individual sets of sights. All four barrels and the left side of the action at the wrist are stamped with “M. J. WHITMORE/POTSDAM N.Y.” The barrels have floral engraving patterns and the action has additional floral engraving as well as rural scenes and patriotic motifs. There is clever trap compartment in between the barrels that contains a wooden ramrod. The butt has numerous engraved German silver inlays, including a reposed stag, a cabin scene on the patch box door, a sun, and stars. The engraving and stock inlays are similar to known Whitmore rifles manufactured in Massachusetts by Nathaniel and Nathaniel Gilbert Whitmore and pictured in the included copy o the article “My Magnificent Whitmore” by David Wood, Jr. suggesting a family connection. N. G. Whitmore was the master armorer at Springfield Armory and also manufactured a very fine rifle for General Grant that was displayed at the Smithsonian.“

anonymous asked:

vaxmore + 16/17

16. a happy kiss.
17. a teasing / sensual kiss.

He’s in the middle of putting away things in the back of the shop when he turns around and finds Vax sitting on a barrel of various rings set to be enchanted, looking him over with a pleased smile on his face.

“Vax’ildan,” Gilmore says, voice practically a purr. Vax’s smile widens. “I didn’t even notice you come in.”

The half-elf cocks his head to one side, some of the dark hair not pulled back into a bun tumbling down over his shoulder. “If you noticed me, then I think I would be very, very bad at my job.” With that he hops off the barrel and greets his boyfriend with a soft kiss on the lips, taking the box of herbs Shaun’s holding and setting it off to the side.

“How was business?” Vax asks, picking up the last box that still needs to be put away and stowing it on a shelf.

“Business?” Gilmore’s eyes twinkle. “Glorious.”

Vax laughs, turning to throw one arm over the tall man’s shoulder while settling another against his chest. “Do you think you’ll ever get tired of that one, Shaun?”

“Never,” he says, and kisses him again, letting his eyelids flutter shut.

It’s sweet at first. Comforting. A bit like coming home.

Vax pushes up onto his tiptoes, curling his fingers into the silky fuchsia of Gilmore’s robes as he pushes deeper into the kiss. Gilmore settles a hand at the small of the shorter man’s back, tugging him closer against him. Vax nips at his bottom lip, just barely, and the hand at the small of Vax’s back draws him even closer.

And then suddenly Vax’s familiar presence is gone, somehow slipping away from Gilmore’s grasp. When Gilmore opens his eyes, the other man is grinning slyly at him, casually popping the top button of his shirt open as he walks backwards towards the backroom Gilmore uses as a bedroom. It’s a miracle he doesn’t trip over anything in the cluttered mess (and tasteful cluttered mess, Gilmore thinks quickly, because it has charm), but then again he can’t really say he’s surprised given Vax is, well, Vax. “Come on, Shaun. Let me make your good day even better.”

Gilmore grins, following the fleet-footed rogue into the room.

Custom build from @reactivegunworks. Weighs in around 5.5lbs!
@proof_research carbon fiber barrel, @2a_armament Balios receiver set, @battlearms VERT PDW Stock, @bootlegbuilderinc PICMOD rail system @geissele SD-E Flat trigger.., @knightarmco MAMS brake and sights.

Just Say It

Summary: Denial is part of every relationship, isn’t it?
Warning: mention of nudity
A/N: This is the continuation of Not Really Anyway 

“I love you to the moon,” he murmured against your lips, hands loosely holding your waist.

Smiling and pulling away from him, you rested your forehead on his before you spoke. “I love you to the moon and back,” you paused only a moment before continuing. “Stevie, did you know that the heart creates enough energy to drive a truck twenty miles? In an average life time that’s enough energy to drive that truck to the moon and back.”

He laughed quietly as you rambled and pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. “Does that mean something?” 

“It means I love you with every beat of my heart. I am yours, and I always will be.”

Happy hums reached your ears and his lips pressed lazily back to yours. “How about I keep you here in my arms and in my bed all day and prove to you that I feel the same? I am yours, and I always will be.”

Keep reading

Bilbo has a quiet moment.

Thorin has a quiet moment.

Shh…it’s quiet right now.

Lindir: How long shall this quiet last?

Elrond: I give it about 10 minutes.

Lindir: I was thinking more like 5.

Elrond: Two.

We have to cut, man. There’s a fish down here…going where it shouldn’t…shut up, Dwalin. [Bifur has fish on head.]

Elrond called it. I owe him $5.

This River Is Wild

Title: This River Is Wild 

Length: ~5k

Summary: Phil decides to attend a show put on by the circus traveling through town. When he stumbles across a boy with brown eyes and bruises, he knows he has to do something.

Warnings: cursing, violence/abuse, mentions of alcohol, Dan and Phil are kids for a large majority of the fic (is that a warning? idk)

Author’s Note: will I ever write a normal phanfic again? here’s to hoping. anyway, here’s a oneshot. it was inspired by the song this river is wild by the killers (though the song and the fic aren’t similar at all so idk how that happened. I still ended up putting song lyrics at the end bc I’m a loser) annnnnnd yeah. I don’t really know what this is but I hope you guys like it anyway.

Keep reading

So dance with your  demons, darling.
The devil isn’t far behind.
—  Brooklyn was a lifetime ago and you’ve long since sold your soul | p.d

“In early December of ‘96, I was raking the blanket of leaves under a maple, getting the property ready for winter.

“Don’t pick the leaves up, please,” JonBenet begged me. “Leave them for me to play in.”

Well, I’m thinking, no way. My job is to pick them up, and that’s what I’m going to do.

“Last year my dad and I did that.” And then she said quietly, “I really miss him. I wish he was around more.”

“Where does he go?”

“I don’t know. But sometimes he goes away for a long time.

Then she started to cry, tears rolling down her face. I didnt know what to say - didn’t know enough about the situation, didn’t want to intrude or play counselor. It wasn’t my place. I changed the subject and started to rake again.

A moment later, I saw JonBenet was scooping up the leaves from the top of the barrel and hurling them over her head into the wind.

"Hey! Stop that! I yelled.

No, I want to play in ‘em!”

She was being kind of bratty. She had a bit of smart aleck in her. I grabbed the barrel and started running toward the compost pile. She chased after me, not about to give up her fun. I set the barrel down, and she dumped all of the leaves out. That made me angry - almost. but before long I made a game out of it. It was fun for both of us. That evening I left a big pile of leaves out front by the gutter for her to play in.

That was probably the last time I spoke to JonBenet. A few weeks later I took the morning paper from my front steps and saw it. I don’t even remember what the headlines said.“

- Brian Scott, the Ramsey’s groundskeeper

Rifles and Gram

The VEPR chambered in 7.62x54r, 23" barrel, and SVD stock set. I put a PSO scope from Belarus on it.

The rifle has so much personal history for me already. It’s an artifact that represents family, loss, friendship, love, and future. I’m proud to own it and thankful to those that helped make it possible.

You see, when my gram passed away last year my group of friends that grew up with me wanted to do something other than flowers. After all they were like her kids too - always welcome, always given advice, and always loved.

They heard the stories, just like I did, about how she grew up shooting her dad’s rifle and how it was the most cherished possession she owned. She worshiped her dad and he died when she was 12.

Yesterday was her birthday. She was born May 20, 1938. She would have been 79. I would have called her and without fail would have said “the good lord has taken care of me 79 years now and I’ll look for him to keep right on doing it. He knows you youngins still need me around”.

We would have talked about past birthdays and she’d tell me about her time in Italy, something her kids did for her while she taught special education classes, or some birthday where she was still on her mountain with her mom and dad.

Circling back to the rifle, my friends (her “adopted kids”), decided to make sure I’d have something that she would love and that would remind me of her. Something I can hand down to Gavin and should he be interested I can teach him to shoot distance in a few years. It’s a fine caliber for hunting game if we should ever have to do that. It’s a tool and an heirloom.

Soon I shall have some work done on it. It will be an engraving.

Бабушка Каролин

It’s a Russian rifle so I’ll have “Grandmother Carolyn” engraved.

I know firearms and guns in general can be a heavy and/or touchy subject and for good reason. That being said there is a lot of history and tradition in my family that revolve around guns and this gesture by those that love me and loved my gram was touching to me.

I miss her so much and her first birthday since she’s been gone has now passed. Yesterday there was a very pronounced sadness in my heart but writing this helped me remember a few of the stories and that warmed me a little.

Thank you all for your support, I mean it, it’s meant the world to me these last 9 months.

Pirate AU

A Simple Softshell:

“Mister Laurens!” called the steward, “I was just on me way to fetch you meself!”

“What’s going on up there?” John asked, tucking the end of his cravat into his vest, coat thrown over one arm. He’d always been a light sleeper, but the commotion on deck would have been enough to wake even the deepest dreamer.

“The captain wants to speak with you, Mr. Laurens.”

“I see.” John pulled on his coat as he bounded up the stairs.

The stars were unusually bright tonight. The wind bit John’s cheeks ferociously, and his hair was already coming out of his queue and whipping his face. The organized chaos of all-hands-on-deck ebbed and flowed around him as he made his way to the sterncastle.

“Captain Shrewsberry, sir!”

“Mr. Laurens! That was quick.” The captain quickly finished giving orders to his second mate, then turned back to the wheel. The second mate shouted something unintelligible, and half a dozen men ran below deck.

“I was already coming up. The steward said you wanted to speak with me?”

The captain’s face was dark. “We’re going to be boarded.”

“What?” John exclaimed. He turned round, and sure enough, a ship was swiftly approaching The Carolina, almost on top of her.

“At first,” said Captain Shrewsberry, “I thought she was another just trading ship on her way to Charleston. But there’s no mistaking one of the most feared silhouettes in the Atlantic.”

“That little ship?”

“She may be small, but the Heart of Oak has a reputation for making entire ships and crews disappear altogether.”

The ship was approaching startlingly fast. Laurens could now make out the shapes of men on the deck. They were not moving, but standing like night-blackened statues on the deck. No light emanated from the ship, save the glint of the moon on bare cutlasses.

“Do they…have any mercy?”

“No. The captain is a fearsome man whom they call the Little Lion. He has been known to set enemy ships ablaze.”

“Does he…?

“The Lion takes no prisoners.”

John swore. “What are you going to do, Captain Shrewsberry?”

There was a long pause. Then the captain lifted his chin and set his face into adamant defiance. He looked the way John had always imagined Hector would, when faced with a grief-maddened Achilles.

“I will do whatever I must to save my crew.”

John nodded.

“Mr. Laurens, now would be a fine time to hide belowdecks.”

“No, sir. I am no coward.”

“I figured you would say as much,” said Shrewsberry. “Go, then. Do what you need to do to prepare.”

John dashed belowdecks. He retrieved the pistol from his trunk and, not bothering with a queue, quickly bound up his hair again so it wouldn’t interfere with his vision. Laurens left his journals, fossils, and samples as they were–the products of his research were likely the safest things on the ship.

By the time he returned to the upper deck, the ship was already being boarded. The Heart of Oak was still cloaked in darkness, but her crew came into the light as they scrambled across planks laid between the ships. They were an unusually motley crew–clothed in everything from French cravats to the vibrant skirts of West Africa. John noted with surprise (and in spite of himself, piqued curiosity) that over half the crew were black men. Even The Carolina, whose captain was a free black man, was manned mostly by white sailors.

Although every man on deck held at the ready some sort of lethal implement, neither crew attacked.
John’s hand tightened on his pistol. He swallowed.

The last two figures crossed the planks, one black and one white.

The brown one was massive in stature, and dressed smartly in a crimson coat. Although his arms were currently occupied in transporting a stout barrel between the ships, moonlight glinted off the two pistols holstered at his belt.

The pale man was short and slight–the Little Lion, John guessed. His attire was dashingly flamboyant: a long green coat with red cuffs and lapels hung open and unbuttoned, revealing the pistol stuck through his belt as well as the rapier sheathed there. His tricornered hat was complete with gold piping and a large red feather.

The crimson Goliath set the barrel in the middle of the deck. The Little Lion mounted it. There was something wild and powerful in the man’s visage–all shadows and color and boldness of posture–standing over them like a god demanding their awe and homage.

John had been waiting for battle his whole life, and it was not supposed to be like this. It was honor and glory and screaming, not silence and staring at one man like he was an angel announcing the birth of a second Christ. The only thing that was as it should be was John’s heart thudding like it wanted to break free of his chest.

For a long moment, no one said anything.

When the Lion finally spoke, it was not a roar, but a calm question: “Which one of you is the captain?”

“I am.” Shrewsberry still stood at the rudder, higher up and in control of the entire ship. Two could play at this game. “My name is Captain Malcom J. Shrewsberry of this trading ship, the The Carolina, and all her crew. Her crew belong to me and I will see them return to Charleston safely.”

The Lion raised an eyebrow, either at Shrewsberry’s speech, or his visage, or both.

“And what of her cargo?” He asked. “Have you any slaves aboard?”

“This vessel trades in Carolina rice and Caribbean rum, not in people.”

“Do you have any bondsmen in the crew?” asked the man.

“I assure you, there are only freemen in this vessel.”

The Lion glanced to each other.

Then the Lion said: “Do you know who I am?”

“You are the one they call the Little Lion.” Captain Shrewsberry stated.

The man grinned. “Aye. And do you know what I do with men who cross me?”

“You kill them.”

“And how do I kill them?”

“You set their ships ablaze with the whole crew still aboard.” The dread these words of Shrewsberry’s struck into the hearts of crew was a tangible thing.

“And do you know what I’m standing on, Shrewsberry?”

“No.”

“A barrel of gunpowder.”

Angry, frightened murmurs shot through the crew of The Carolina.

“Stop with these games!” shouted Shrewsberry. “What do you want?”

“What do you have?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s the most ridiculous lie I’ve ever heard. You’re a trading vessel, you’ve got something.”

“It’s the truth. You caught us between ports. We sold our rice for gold at St. Croix yesterday and we’ll use that gold to buy sugar cane at St. Vincent.”

“Absolute rubbish. Why would you do on two islands what could be done on one?”

Because they had a naturalist aboard who insisted they take as many detours as could possibly be justifiable so he could study the flora and fauna of different islands.

John swallowed hard.

“Special interests.”

The Lion cocked an eyebrow again. Still looking at Shrewsberry, he said:

“Pierre, Kebba, go belowdecks and see if he’s lying. Take whatever we can use.” Two of his men cautiously made their way below deck, careful not to come near any of the enemy crew. “Ajax, go find out what this ‘special interest’ is.” The man in the crimson coat followed the others below deck. The captains studied each other.

After what felt like hours, Ajax returned, holding a burlap sack suppressing a grin.

“Found your special interest,” he said. John’s heart skipped a beat. The Little Lion peered into the bag.

“What in the…” Realization dawned with burst of laughter. “You’ve a naturalist aboard? You’re going all the way from St. Croix to St. Vincent’s…for natural philosophy?”

“And not just any naturalist,” said Ajax in French, “A naturalist by the name of John Laurens.”

“Laurens?” The bemusement vanished from the Lion’s face. “As in, Henry Laurens?” John’s heart fell to his stomach. Ajax nodded. The pirate on the barrel began to dig through the sack. “What relation? Brother?”

Ajax handed him a packet of envelopes. “Son.”

I am such a fool, though John as the pirate captain read the signatures on the letters. An absolute idiot.

The Lion looked up, at Captain Shrewsberry. For a pregnant moment, he seemed to grapple with some internal dilemma. John, moving very slowly so as to draw no attention, slipped his pistol into a pocket in the lining of his coat. His sister had added the pocket for the purpose of carrying samples John might find unexpectedly. John prayed it could also conceal a gun.

The two men returned from belowdeck. One of them handed Ajax a bag. A conversation ensued between the captain and his three men in a language John didn’t understand.

The one of them slipped back into French, “Other than that, we found nothing, Captain. Nothing we don’t already have too much of.”

“Luckily,” said the Little Lion. “Ajax did.” In English, he called, “Which of you is John Laurens?”

John uttered a silent prayer and stepped forward. On the other side of that step, he decided it was playing into the enemy’s hand. So he kept walking, striding purposefully toward the barrel, making members of both crews part for him, until he stood directly in front of the barrel, face to face with the pirate captain.

John had strode too close; he could smell oranges and rum on the other man’s breath, he could count the freckles on the other man’s face under dirt and sun-brown, he could see in his impossibly blue eyes the moment when something in the Lion’s gaze snagged on him. Well, at least John could take pride in knowing he’d surprise this capricious king of theatrics.

Then John felt a prickle of cold at his chin. He’d let himself get distracted staring defiantly up into the Lion’s face and had missed the moment when he unsheathed his claws.

The pirate captain said something in the language John didn’t understand, then jumped down from the barrel. John winced; the man had kept his blade at Laurens’ throats all the while, and John could feel a few drops of blood bead and slide down his throat like sweat. One of the pirates was holding a torch over the barrel.

Ajax handed the bag to his captain, who tossed it at the feet of a Carolina sailor. Gold pieces scattered across the deck. The Lion positioned himself behind John, one arm holding Laurens captive in what felt like a lover’s embrace (or would have, if Laurens left arm were free), the other holding a dagger to his throat. The pirate’s left hand was splayed wide on Laurens’ chest.

John hated this pirate, for rendering him impotent and vulnerable. He hated his heart for betraying his fear under his enemy’s fingers. But then a faint pulsing sensation on John’s back vindicated him–the harrowed heartbeat of his captor. Even the Little Lion himself was a subject to fear, it seemed.

They were equals.

“Use that,” said the Lion to Captain Shrewsberry over John’s shoulder. “To get back to Charleston. I want you to deliver a message for me. Tell Henry Laurens that whatever his son is worth to him, I want double in ransom.”

COMPLETED GARDEN AWESOMENESS

WARNING: LENGTHY POST OF LENGTHY VICTORY

So here’s some badassery that two people with chronic illnesses managed. I’m so proud of us. We just did what we could do, step by step, and now we have a lot of amazingness.

And you get a long post about it.

First Gabe found a book called Square Foot Gardening by Mel Bartholomew, which makes incremental gardening really accessible. We’ve wanted to have a vegetable garden for ages and have only had a little experience with them. So it was kind of intimidating to approach. This book sort of cracked the code for us.

Then, Gabe made one raised bed box.

Then honestly we got tired and busy for like… a year. But hey, one step done and waiting for us when we were ready. And all that time spent thinking just sorta composted and fed the next steps.

Eventually we got momentum again and Gabe made another raised bed box. We picked where to place the boxes in the yard. We bought some good stuff to mix into dirt. Eventually we made that good mix of dirt.  We decided we wanted some paver stones right around the boxes, so we started collecting small stacks of those whenever we were up for a Lowe’s run. 

This was… February this year?

We filled the boxes and started planning veggies. We also started a small garden on the kitchen bar with a cheap grow light (one cool white bulb, one warm white bulb).

Step by step. Whenever we had energy we did whatever was next best we could. And kept going.

We portioned out the boxes like so, like it says to do with the Square Foot method.

Then, when we were up for it, we started planting! Green leafies and carrots from seeds, tomatoes and cukes from transplants from the inside garden. Taters in tater bins. We’re just dealing with pests as they arise.

Then Gabe started planning the fence we’d eventually need when some very enthusiastic family dogs come home from being long distance. We lucked out and a family member had a bunch of chain link fencing we could use. We bought the lumber we needed for the frame.

Now here’s where life gave us a little deadline, because said enthusiastic dogs are coming home Wednesday. So we had to bust our sick butts a little this month to make all this happen. We were lucky and had spoons to spare or to borrow.

First the frame, then the fencing, across three weekends.

Finally, today we hung the gate and added some finishing touches with bits and bobs we’ve collected… and that we bought with a victory trip to Big Lots this weekend.

And here’s where I’m spamming your feed with ALL THE PICTURES. Because AWESOME.

Currently Cap greets you when you come in. He may look tiny, but he’s fierce.

To the left… stand with our hardier herbs and some aloe. Carrots, lettuce, chard, squash, bell peppers and First Avenger in the box. Blue potatoes in the tater bin.

The tallest are happy new transplants from the store. The farthest right square has lettuce coming up from seed! The square at the bottom has feathery carrot tops! Look!

And our mostly herb stand we love - mint and aloe that’s already endured trouble with us, and new lavender and cilantro.

On the other side, to the right then: red taters, tomatoes and cucumbers. Plus ancient bag with hand-painted dragon for hand gardening tools.

And we have attracted very rare grass dolphins!

The tomatoes and cukes are being read to so they will grow up big and strong.

Other finishing touches – we found the perfect windchime.

And solar powered fairy lights!!!

Yeah, we did it. Here’s the thing… the blackberry vines went in way late. But they’re in. The cukes were late but they’re in. The rainwater barrel is set up but we don’t know how to use it yet. Ants took some lettuce and one part of a box but we shook them and started again. Several herbs didn’t make it. We do what we can do when we can do it. And eventually we’ve got this foundation we can build on, and if something doesn’t grow, we pull it up and try something else. We learn and grow at every step.

Maybe gardens aren’t your thing, but please take this as a reminder of what can happen if you’re willing to risk the scariness of taking one step at a time without knowing how on earth you’ll finish.

It feels great to be out there. It feels sacred. I’ll have to be careful as it gets hotter especially. But it’s beautiful and it feeds me just by being there. Maybe we’ll even grow something to eat.

TAAA DAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!

We rule.

It’s Britney Bitch

It got a little long, so there is more under the break.


You finished staring at your creation. It was perfect. It really looked like Jensen’s head was on Britney Spears’s body. You couldn’t stop giggling. He should have never joked about loving Britney Spears at Comic Con HQ, you thought. He was so going to regret it. You stifled a giggle as you opened up your text messages and added a few people to it. 

You had barely hit send when Jensen’s arms slid around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder briefly before he caught sight of your phone. 

“The hell was that?” he asked, stepping away from you quickly and grabbing at your phone. 

Keep reading

#Repost @primerprojects
・・・
BA 300blk build is so close I can taste the gunpowder!

@ballisticadvantage 300blk 10.3" Hanson barrel + receiver set
@aimsurplus TiN BCG
@steinerteamamerica P4Xi scope + @burriscompany mount
@kak_industry Shockwave kit from @jackedarms
@geissele DDC MK8 rail
@gemtechsilencer the One suppressor + Quickmount brake

instagram

The giant set to work on my barrel!!! Cable crunches - 4 sets of 20 reps Ab-wheel - 4 sets of 12. Reverse crunches - 4 sets of 10-12 DONE AS A GIANT SET , meaning 1 set of cable immediately followed by the ab-wheel and then straight into reverse crunches. Rest 30-45 secs and repeat!! TIME TO DEVELOP THIS CORE!! #planetfitness #usedtomyadvantage #will2befit #abs #bodybuilding #hybrid #muscle #thick (at Planet Fitness)

Made with Instagram