#woodboxes

[backroad-life]

Credit: Clem Onojeghuo

[ratmans-notebooks]

there is something transmasc about this

[quanronggallery]

Beautiful Chinese Lacquerware Beads Bracelet w Huali Wood Inlay Shell Box

[qualitycigarboxes]

Presenting a great looking box by Eiroa. It is pleasing to look at, makes for a great #giftforhim and can be crafted to make a men's #groomingkit for keeping beard trimmers, razors, cologne, and more 🧔‍♂️🪒🎁

@ebay

[dtico29t]

Today we are going to make two things - a gold ring and a box made of resin and wood. Subscribe and let me know if you liked it 😉

[ozarkfleajunksales]

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[fancydreamland999999]

Old glass beaded hand string

https://www.etsy.com/listing/1498325210/36511-old-glass-beaded-hand-string?click_key=f644ff710d1d036d45b8be1d2c70392404355e14%3A1498325210&click_sum=c4561c05&ga_search_query=36511&ref=shop_items_search_1&frs=1

[mypoetryelenabertolini]

DO NOT BEGIN UNLESS YOU INTEND TO FINISH! Jumanji The Game Wooden Box Edition takes you and your fellow adventurers on a quest through the jungle, solving riddles and completing challenges while trying not to lose your Life Tokens. Be the first to reach the center of the jungle and yell “JUMANJI!” to win. But if ANY player loses all their Life Tokens, ALL players lose! *Post contains an affiliated link* Head over to walmart to more info on this great game!!

[rossandmac]

Our shop’s featured artist @ianmacdonaldcraftsman. His walnut wood box with orange gypsum, citrine cactus quartz and green fluorite… Coming soon to our Etsy shop! #etsy #etsyshop #smallbusiness #woodbox #woodworking #woodartist #naturalminerals #minerals #mineralspecimens #gemstone #fluorite #gypsum #citrine #cactusquartz #canadianbusiness #ianmacdonaldcraftsman #rossandmac (at Fonthill, Ontario) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn_Iz9NOvSo/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[quanronggallery]

Vintage Chinese Zitan Wood Inlay Shell Jewelry Box w Kids  https://www.etsy.com/listing/1462883926/e0390-vintage-chinese-zitan-wood-inlay?click_key=74010d3bbda7069f537b8c4e2c8f56187ebe274b%3A1462883926&click_sum=5589e59b&ref=shop_home_active_21&frs=1

[qualitycigarboxes]

Presenting the Africa "Punda Milia" wood cigar box. A beautifully painted and polished box with sturdy metal hinges. An excellent place to keep jewelry, money clips, and display in your home or office!

@amazon

[sandywoodworker]

Kleine Bandsägebox als Klavier #holzbox #woodenbox #holzkiste #holz #box #handmade #geschenkideen #erinnerungskiste #erinnerungsbox #woodbox #decoupage #wood #stchen #jewellerybox #handgemacht #holzboxen #diy #forphotographers #decoupagem #jewelrybox #s #serviettentechnik #handmadewithlove #deko #personalisiertegeschenke #decoupage #schmuckk #decoupagebox #personalisiert #geschenkidee (hier: Zwickau, Germany) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cn16m3poUZK/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[roboticonography]

@geekynerddemon, I'm your Steggy Secret Santa!

Your letter was so lovely, and I was really touched that you said that I could “gift” you an update to one of my WIPs. You’re such a kind and generous fandom friend - I always see you being positive and supportive on other peoples' fanworks. So I wanted you to have something special that was written just for you.

I saw this headcanon on your Tumblr, and I couldn’t resist expanding on the theme of Peggy wearing/stealing Steve’s T-shirts.

Of course, you also said that you wanted some angst before the happy ending, so we might have to take the scenic route to get to soft times and T-shirt crimes… and the route will be extra scenic for you, because I'm not quite finished your story.

Here's a small preview of what's to come. I hope to have the rest posted in the next few weeks. Merry belated Christmas, and thanks for being so awesome! Hope you're having a great day/month/year.

(Obligatory tag @steggyfanevents)

Having a Frenchman in their party opens all sorts of doors for Captain America and his Howling Commandos. 

On this particular evening, it will open the front door of a cabane en pierre sèche, known to residents around Digne-les-Bains and—thus far, at least—unknown to the German army. 

Using a three-pronged offensive of diplomacy, bourbon, and racy jokes, Dernier was able to coax the location from a cattle farmer who was skittish about hosting American soldiers on his property, but who eventually agreed to share directions to a stone hut that locals sometimes used as a hunting cabin.

“I think we’re lost,” says Dugan, for the fifth time. “Better let me see the map.”

Using the back page of Steve’s notebook, the farmer has drawn them a crude approximation of the path through the forest—cleverly concealed by Dernier with an even cruder doodle of a buxom blonde with Bambi eyes and a cartoonishly tiny waist. Unsurprisingly, everyone wants to play navigator.

“I’m the map,” says Steve, tapping his temple. “We’re right on track.”

Bucky claps Steve on the shoulder. “You should draw more sexy girls,” he says, solemnly, as if imparting important life advice. “You know, for morale.”

“I draw what I see,” Steve says dryly. “When was the last time we were within a hundred yards of a sexy girl?”

Bucky grins, and Steve realizes, too late, that he’s given his friend an opening. “Well, now,” he drawls, “that depends. Does Agent Carter count?”

She counts, for Steve, in more ways than one. But he knows better than to fall into the trap. “No,” he says shortly.

“Come on, Steve. You really never noticed that she was a beautiful dame?”

Steve has, in fact, noticed this—and what’s more, has told her so, to her face, in a moment of sheer lunacy that still makes him blush when he thinks of it. She wasn’t particularly impressed by his observation (or by him, generally) and he’s avoided making further such observations, either to Peggy or about her.

Bucky folds his arms expectantly. The other guys are quiet, seemingly occupied, but Steve knows they’re listening.

An ominous crackle of thunder gives him the out he’s looking for.

“Let’s pick up the pace,” he calls, increasing the length of his strides accordingly.

*

By the time the scrub and stunted oak recedes to open ground, they’re being lashed by the rain from all angles.

No one is entirely clear on the electrical conductivity of vibranium, so everyone gives Steve a wide berth as they cross the field. There’s a brief, uncoordinated scramble over some rocky ground, and then, at last, there they are.

The ancient stone hut isn’t much from the outside: a pile of rocks and moss that looks almost accidental. It’s easy to see why it’s been overlooked.

The inside consists of two rooms, each with its own fireplace. The back room contains a narrow cot, while the front room is furnished with a table and a few mismatched chairs, as well as a woodbox. Pelts on the floors of both rooms serve in place of rugs. The shelves are bare, aside from a miscellany of tableware, some hunting knives, and a couple of cooking-pots, to be used over the front room’s apron hearth. The window closures are just shutters and skins—no glass. Judging by the dust and cobwebs, the place hasn’t been occupied for at least a season.

Such glorified squatting is practically routine for the Howlies by now. Morita sequesters himself in the back room to tinker with his ailing radio kit; Jones starts a fire in each room, after checking to be sure the chimneys are clear; Dernier takes up a collection of ration-boxes and starts on dinner. The rest of the crew get to work securing windows, sealing up drafts, and chasing out wildlife. Dugan finds a stiff broom and redistributes the dust with unbridled enthusiasm until the others, eyes and noses streaming, beg him to stop.

Steve goes back into the storm to tackle the rusty pump. A solid ten minutes of super-powered elbow grease finally produces water that seems drinkable, if not aesthetically pleasing.

“Are you quite certain you found the pump and not the privy?” asks Falsworth, watching Steve decant the fruits of his labour.

Steve hangs the full pot over the fire. “Added vitamins and minerals.”

The fire is roaring, and it isn’t long before the water is boiled. Each man scoops a share, adding his own coffee or tea to make it more palatable.

There’s enough left for reconstituting their breakfasts in the morning, and for a quick wash, if anyone needs it—all of them almost certainly do, but they’re all tired, and too used to close quarters to care much.

Feeling warmer inside and out, they shuck off their uniforms and hang the essentials to dry. Everyone is wearing the standard woollen long johns as their base layer—everyone, that is, except for Steve, whose battle suit is twice as warm as standard issue. The same could be said for Steve himself, who endures the usual hooting and wolf-whistling when he strips down to his boxers and undershirt.

Dernier, supplementing the pitiful K-rations with some odds and ends from his own scavenging, has worked his usual magic over the hearth: a hearty stew of root vegetables in a wild mushroom gravy that looks more appetizing than anything Steve has made on his best day at home.

They portion it out equally among various plates, bowls, and canteen cups. Every flat surface becomes a seat, and nearly every mouth is too busy chewing to speak.

“Where the hell’d you find potatoes?” asks Dugan, who never met a companionable silence he didn’t feel the need to shatter.

“In the earth,” replies Dernier, his tone pure contempt. “Do they fall from the sky in America?”

Dugan makes a rude gesture.

Falsworth asks, “Do I detect fresh thyme?”

A torrent of rapid-fire French—something about herbes de Provence, and a few turns of phrase that Steve recognizes as generally unflattering, apparently aimed at English cooking.

Gabe translates, “Yep.”

The others laugh.

Morita emerges from the back room, the door slapping shut behind him. “Orders, Cap.” He squats over the hearth to collect his cup and spoon.

Steve pauses, his own spoon halfway to his open mouth, and waits.

“We’re picking up a friend.” Morita shovels stew into his mouth and swallows without chewing. “Should be here around 0200.”

Friend usually means British intelligence. 

Peggy Carter is, technically, part of the SSR. But she’s also on loan from the SOE, and occasionally they like to call in favours. She’s been out on an assignment for at least a few weeks now—doing what, he can’t be sure.

All around him, the scraping of cutlery on tin has stopped. Dugan and Barnes exchange a meaningful look before pivoting to face him. Steve can feel his ears turning red; he suddenly wants to tell them both to shut up, even though they haven’t said anything.

Carefully casual, he inquires, “Any ID?”

Morita nods, his face splitting into a wide grin. “It’s her.”

[TO BE CONTINUED...]

[fancydreamland999999]

Natural jade beads bracelet https://www.etsy.com/listing/1520188804/37363-natural-jade-beads-bracelet?click_key=1b1e24f2a5fc04074559d1726f06f1419d36c235%3A1520188804&click_sum=679a0d9a&ga_search_query=37363&ref=shop_items_search_1&frs=1