#wagonwheel

[cgclarkphoto]

Pumpkins at night -  cg photography

[selidor]

[john-gregg-studios]

Broken Wagon Wheel

Broken Wagon Wheel Bodie 2019 John Gregg Studios “Broken Wagon Wheel” I found this wagon in a field in Bodie California fall 2019. #johngregg #johngreggstudios #wagonwheel #bodie #california

[ciego64]

Another shot from our abstract walkabout in Old Town Scottsdale. . . . . . @azwomenphotographers #wagonwheel #abstract #abstractphotography #oldtownscottsdale #relics #centered #shotonnikon #shotonnikond3500 #tamronlens #tamron90mm #arizona (at Old Town Scottsdale) https://www.instagram.com/p/CpVfCHXPIuP/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[someguyiguess]

tonights song rec is Once In A Lifetime by Talking Heads

[lakelewisia]

This year’s corn crops, from small backyard stands to the corn maze out at Wagonwheel Field, have been developing at an alarming (or exciting, depending on your alignment) rate. As the days approach their long zenith, phantom ears have been spotted, glowing sun-golden and ethereal several feet above where even these enthusiastic stalks have yet reached. Witnesses report they glow in the night, ever brighter, as though something is charging up solar power in preparation for what we cannot know.

[morganmerylhodgepodge]

"Boss of the Wagonwheel"

From the original by Everett Raymond Kinstler

as sourced here:

[clonewarsahsoka]

I bought I large box of bearclaws #adult

[amyjasek]

Round Rock, TX // #roundrock #history #landscape #wagonwheels #chisholmtrail #project #williamsoncounty #filmphotography #documentary #film #mediumformat #hasselblad500cm #ilford #hp5 #filmshooterscollective #texasgirlphotography https://www.instagram.com/p/CnRwXSEuDRx/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[caridinafry]

trick or treat! :D:D:D happy halloween!!

TREAT!!!

kisses you on the top of your head and also hands you a handful of wagonwheels

[phorophyte]

wagonwheel hole, sauvie island, OR

so many sandhill cranes + killdeer today <3

[septusuki]

"Arius, I oughta say." Turning from the boat's wagonwheel controls, Priorie addresses her singular companion with only a mote of concern. "The 'maids round these parts, they're a bit..." she trails off, one finger raising to her chin as she gnarls the pipe about in her mouth. "Different. Nasty different." Finally concluding her thought, Priorie shrugs and decides that's as far as she's getting with it.

"So... What? A new ordo? Class?" Arius is excited, all of a sudden. She's meant to be doing research once she arrives, but to get a discovery or two in before the boat even touches land will be a hefty addition to her title. "Even a new form'd be nice..." Turning from the boat's stern, Arius' glittering eyes lock in on the captain. "I'll get my camera!" She claps, and begins rummaging around in her backpack, displacing entire weeks-worth of rations before finding the little snap-camera she'd buried inside of it, just in case.

"Subspecies. I think." Swallowing, Priorie turns away, as if she can't bear to see Arius so excited. She's brought it up, and now she has to deal with it. "I don't think you'll be too excited bout 'em, either way." Trying to humble herself, and downplay the things she has to navigate past, most every week, Priorie shrugs again. "Just though you should know." With a begrudged tip of her head, Priorie decides that it's time to pay attention to piloting, instead. After all, they're entering the cave, now.

Equipped with a tiny little camera, with only a few photo's worth of reel left — and her own enthusiasm, of course — Arius taps her feet on the deck as she turns back. "Maybe they'll have amber scales, or proboscis, or bigger fins..." She dreams, her mouth twisting unflatteringly as she begins to giggle. She'll roll up to the scientist's confer, already decked out with a fresh biological first to foist upon them. "Unhh..." She gets lost in those daydreams as the world around the boat goes dark for a few moments. "Or... Or maybe some kind of biological ornamentation...." Her wheezing grows heady, her giggles turning to hyperactive breaths as the boat's auto-lights snap on.

"Y-Yeah, somethin' like that." Priorie tries to entertain the conversation, but she can't keep up; she's never been especially educated, definitely not to Arius' dizzying level, where she gets so worked up over tiny little discoveries. Arius might end up as a footnote in the biological mythos, but she'd still be happy. Priorie wished she could wish for such a simple life — but she's been saddled with a boat, and told to sail it.

The cave opens up, yawning out into an entire cavern, with only the slightest reems of sunlight poking through the roof. It glitters and gleams with ore and gems, making the water almost look powerful. Arius makes the tiniest of gasps as the elegance of it all overcomes her, for just a moment. She takes a few photos, but instantly regrets it; that reel is for the mermaids, idiot! "So... Where are they, Priorie? Captain Priorie?" So amused by the idea that she'd be remembered for whatever she finds in this cave, Arius begins to get almost overexcited.

"You'll see 'em when you see 'em, Arius. You can't miss 'em." Priorie sighs as she admits to herself that Arius doesn't have even the remotest of titles to add to her name. Yet. "You... Really can't." She repeats, almost glowering at herself for telling her in the first place. Arius is going to be disappointed, no doubt about it. Not in Priorie's mind, at least.

"Well they better hurry up!" Arius demands, checking and re-checking her camera to make sure it still has a photo or two left. "Major Arius wants to make her big debut!" Adding the honorific herself, Arius smirks as she indulges in the aspiration of it all. She's so lucky, to be being taken on this secret route to the conference — by her best friend, no less! The whimsy of it all gets to her head, and she salutes, all of a sudden. "That's Major Arius to you, deckhand!" She preens, imagining all the horrible things she'll do to her subordinates once she's afforded the discovery of a lifetime. The tips of her mouth spiral and squeal, hardly able to stop themselves cracking apart with excitement. "Any hints? What do they look—"

Arius is cut off, instantly. Her train of thought is severed, as she realises that that was what Priorie meant. You couldn't miss them, not in a blue moon, not in a month of sundays. You couldn't miss them, because they're whales.

"Aaahhh... Please... Feed me..." the first of a dozen whales lets her voice linger and she limps through the words. Lazing in the low-light on a gigantic grey rock, this seal chews some kind of cud as she rubs and plaps at her belly expanse. "Shoo... Hungwy..." She mumbles, licking her lips as she no-doubt images a trillion types of food being shovelled into her mouth — all at once, preferably.

"Yeah. Different." Priorie doesn't even spare a second to look at the beached whales that are now surrounding her. Like stars on a dark night, as soon as you pick one out, their compatriots soon appear. As large as the pseudo-islands they're laying atop, these mermaids idly bathe in the light, their pale skin betraying the fact that they don't get much, really. "Don't get mixed up with them, 'kay? You know the rules, just like normal ones." Priorie groans, as she hears their magic sympathy-sounds switch on. Her arms almost stray from the boat's wheel, but she keeps herself steady.

Arius isn't so lucky. "You know, Priorie..." She garbles, her mind being massacred by the mermaids pulling on it's heartstrings. "I-I've always kinda been into fat girls..." Dumbly, Arius happily admits her biggest secret without a second's reserve. Her mouth is so oozing with drool that she can't speak straight, anymore. Words come out of her mouth, rolled about and gargled in an ocean of saliva.

One of the mer-seals rolls onto her side, her humongous flank drooping over the basking rock and tumbling into the ocean's surface, like a waterfall of blubber. Realistically, she is no different from any other mermaid. She has the elegant, jewelled bra that most are outfitted with. She has the glassy hair ornaments they've been genetically trained to scavenge from the ocean's floor. She even has the navel piercing that some so rarely have — clearly, this one is the queen of her little caste. Only, this one, this elephant seal of a mer-creature, has an entirely smooth, grey tail, speckled with spots of black. Where the leathery, flawless grey flesh becomes skin, lays an entire ocean of the stuff. Half of her tail is covered by belly-meat, and half of that, still, is adorned with barely-restrained boob-fat. Even with this all-encompassing roundness, this queen is still beautiful. Her fat, round face pulses cuteness, and her curvy blonde locks frame it all so perfectly. So big that she could be mistaken for one of the damp, black rocks she lays atop, the queen is so beautiful that she could be mistaken for a world-level supermodel. It's alarming, almost, that she's this big. She ought to be slithering down a runway.

"Ungh... Feed me, Arius...!" She mewls. Her arm looks almost short, when compared to the balloon of her belly, but she smacks it nonetheless. "Pwease, Arius!" She coos and calls across the lake, smacking her lips as her tiny arms fail to rub the full expanse. "Feed me, and rub my bell--y!"

Arius is in the water, already.

Priorie is so distracted with not getting distracted that she hardly notices. By the time she becomes aware that her childhood friend is halfway across the short swim to the mermaid's murder rock, Priorie can do little more than scream. She's not going in there to stop her. There are always little ones, that'll pick apart any stragglers. Arius is the queen's prey, so she's untouchable. For now. "Arry! Arry, fuck, come back!" Priorie screams, trying oh-so valiantly to steer the boat and rescue the floundering figure of her friend.

"Aaa-rius!" The seal-mermaid giggles, growing ever-fatter by the moment. Trying to fit itself to Arius' hyper-specific specifications, the seal-maid's face becomes a sack of blubber as she is utterly overcome with the stuff. "Ugghh..." It whimpers, as the rock beneath it begins to groan with the weight of the goddess laying atop it. Her little bra strains, jewels bursting off of it and into the water as she bloats up, pushing her clothes to grow by two sizes at once. The queen's belly-piercing is gone, soon, masticated between belly-rolls. "You're making me— Oughh —sho fat, Ariush!" She laughs, only a little scared of how huge she wants her.

[legolonia]

Norm Alguy.

I have no Wagon Wheel, therefore, I must eat the escargot.

#legophotography #greyscale #blackandwhite #fun #livingwithfibromyalgia #chronicfatigue #normalguy #legolonia #awesome #minifig #playwell #staywell #leica #sony #canon #justanormalguylivinganormallife #olympus #desktopphotography #lifeisgood #friends #smile #oldbloke #retired #victoria #lifeisgood

#escargot #wagonwheel

[partywithponies]

No! It isn't cinematic parallels at all, Don't make me think about Barclay like that. there is no frisson between him and mike and there is a supreme lack of tits. Although trapped in close quarters is my favourite fanfiction trope.

JK.

Unless...

It IS true that every scene in every show could be instantly improved by adding Keeley Hawes's tits, I can't lie.

But I am sorely tempted to make a whole gifset comparing the safe scene in Ghosts to the vault scene in A2A. Comparing the sharing of the wagonwheel to the sharing of the whisky. They were even both suddenly rescued while they had their arms round each other. I need to make other people feel as insane as I did.

[lakelewisia]

This weekend will see the return of the Renaissance Festival to Wagonwheel Field for two days of performances, food, and activities. While we will have actual time travelers on hand to provide historical context, teach period-accurate words and phrases, and critique costuming choices in film and television, the real point is to have fun with history. We encourage everyone to get creative and dress up to the degree they feel comfortable, rather than worrying too much about what a temporally-displaced noble or temporarily conjured spirit will have to say about their choice of head covering or use of cotton over linen.

[birchbritches]

A Showing

Sent mediums to pluck us like puppets from our hidey-holes and hold us up for show

preceding a good bit of praise by way of hubbub, preceding the puppets comeuppanced onto their heads and disarrayed and life going on despite an unattended tangle,

the angle of an audience eating up whatever's next.

Whole ghosts go missing every day.

Trays of hors d'oeuvres hoary for time and dust let rampant, not there, per se, only an anachronizing eyeballing pulling brimmed platters from the past out from under ancient perusal to clatter and impress the current with the ruckus of a summoning coming through for once when most have tried this at home and gotten nowhere.

We seethe, see the seething, eat up the piss-poor partyplatter, store-bought but feigning otherwise as that's not fascinating enough for the viewers.

Séancier pisses away the grists of ghosts gotten antsy over the visitation, only smelled a story and chews up and spits out any not in its image. The joists get older,

the floorboards tenderer, the renderer sends resignations, reins ill-fit over ages, rain making a miserable travel unwilling to give in to a graceful montage that'll get us there, gotta hardscrabble until the spirit gives out completely.

Return-to-sender upends the supposed on-paper duties done, deeds wheedle from living fingers and taunt archivists, piddling past wrestles and hassles and has restless overlaps.

We come to the table, would gum up the gears but you hear nothing.

We share an honorary honoree like a first full consideration of an honeybee and the hives it will bring one of us in time, the hexagonal waggling like a wagonwheel-heart,

we creak a bannister, we each say the other can move on, we investigate plausible construction-artifact as cause,

we talk and talk and talk and don't pause long enough to hear or interact. We stack our stories up, hatch masonry like a plague of birds could keep us safe,

we will not say anything that can be used against us or that won't be used against us, were careful but susceptible to words. The tantrums are expansive, the pricey past is worthless before it shatters, the rubble is lovelier anyhow.

We all hold hands, sniff at what that is. We are all out of falling down by the time you catch up.