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wildflowerluver · 1 year

Note

Morgan or Hotch and Valentine’s Day flowers? Your writing is always amazing 🫶🫶🫶

(ty for requesting! i went with morgan <33) fem!reader, no warnings

ʚ♡ɞ

you’re fully expecting to be alone all valentine’s day. not by choice, but rather due to your boyfriend’s work schedule.

snow falls outside the window and you just threw another log into the fireplace to keep your main source of warmth burning.

you wished derek was with you to cuddle and block out any of the cold. he was supposed to be home for valentine’s day. he made a firm promise the day before he left and he’s not one to break that.

but you still got the inevitable call this morning.

you were in bed curled up and not expecting the empty spot next to you when your phone rang.

derek jumped right into formalities. “i’m sorry, baby. we finished up this morning but all flights are delayed until the storm passes.”

you dropped your head and pulled your comforter up to your chin.

“baby? you still there?”

“yeah i’m here der,” despite the masking you attempted, you knew derek could see right through your facade.

he sighed. “i’m so sorry. i promise i’ll make it up to you.”

you hummed. “get home safe when you can.”

“i will,” derek promised. “i love you.”

“i love you too.”

instead of a night filled with dinner, romance, and whatever came after that, you were home alone on the most romantic day of the year.

until a knock sounds on the door.

you slide off the couch, quickly pausing the tv and heading to the front door. you don’t have a semblance of an idea of who it could be. not a lot of people wanted to do unexpected drop bys for their friends on valentines day.

you opened the door. instead of being greeted with the face of a person, you looked out towards a bouquet of flowers: geranium, peony, cosmos, and protea all wrapped up in brown paper.

the bouquet moves downward to reveal the holder.

derek was grinning, a smile reserved for an occasion as if he planned it.

“be my valentine?”

you rush forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle and burying your face in his chest. your smile is all consuming at the sight of your boyfriend. “what happened? i thought planes were grounded!”

the paper crushes between you but neither of you seem to mind. they’ll find their place in a vase later. all that matters right now is each other.

derek rocks the two of you back and forth, slowly guiding you into your home.

“come on baby. did you really think i was going to leave you alone on valentines day?”

you peer up at him as a slight pout crosses your lips. “derek…”

“okay okay,” he finally surrenders. “there was a break in the storm that we managed to book our flight for. i was going to send you flowers and have them delivered but i figured giving them to you in person was a lot better.”

you lean up to kiss him firmly, a sign of both love and appreciation.

“it definitely was.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds angst #derek morgan #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan fanfiction

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year

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This is nice. It’s an 1870 Gothic Revival farmhouse in Nova Scotia listed for $294K.

Walk in the front door, and right smack in front of you in the foyer is a fabulous original fireplace. There’s a large storage cabinet to the left. And, to the right is a log holder for the fireplace.

Lovely blue renovated kitchen with a heat stove.

Cute pantry, too.

Beautiful dining room.

There’s a casual living room.

Another entrance to the home is a center hall with a Victorian staircase.

And, a small cozy office.

This is pretty, love the window.

The main bd. with en suite.

The farmhouse has 4 bds.

There’s quite a lot of space up here.

One of 3 baths.

Enclosed porch on the back of the house.

The garden is very neatly laid out.

Cute chicken coop.

It’s a 1.82 acre farm. This is very nice.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/3418-Clementsvale-Rd-Clementsvale-NS-B0S-1G0/305693876_zpid/

#gothic revival farmhouse #houses #old house house dreams #house tours #home tour #long post

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olderthannetfic · 8 months

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Fiber craft question: how do you store your excess wool? especially during the wetter months i always fear the goods somehow spoiling

In my case, poorly.

I have these tiered wicker Chinese baskets that some of it is in and an art nouveau coal scuttle/fireplace log holder that holds a lot of the rest. The stuff I'm using soon is in a big cottagecore-looking basket on top of the wood bin, and the overflow is in a storage ottoman.

None of these are even slightly good places to store yarn, much less wool yarn.

How you should store depends on whether the big concern is mildew or moths, but in general, you get high end plastic bins with a good airtight seal. You put the wool in the freezer, take it out, put it back (to kill wooly bears in addition to moths) and then immediately transfer to these bins. You make sure not one tiny strand of yarn is stuck in the seal (because then bugs can get in). You can add desiccants and bug repelling things like cloves too.

Nimble Needles has a video on how he stores things, I think.

But TBH, I think a big part of the answer is that hoarding is not actually good, and you should keep your stash down to something manageable and look through it regularly. I know this is an unpopular opinion in crafting circles, and I'm guilty of having too much stuff too, but the best answer is to not have more stuff than you can easily look through and maintain.

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bellafragolina · 1 year

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An Oath By The Blood On My Hand

🍓🍓🍓

Chapter Two

“Oh. . .”

The voice washes over you just the same as the warmth from the home. Your shoulders relax without your permission, and you duck your head, heat swirling in your cheeks. You try to open your mouth, but then there’s a hand stuck out to you.

“You’re soaking wet!” The man says loudly. You boggle, but stick your hand out as well. Your trembling palm slips into his, soaking the loose fabric that bunches from the wrist of his sleeve. His skin is as cold as yours despite the warmth of his house. “Oh, please come inside. You’ll freeze to death out here.”

The man ushers you inside, pulling at your wet coat. It peels away, and you shudder once it’s off, hugging yourself tight. You watch the man hang your coat on a cast iron rack, next to a heavy black overcoat covered in a fine layer of dust.

As you stand, basking in the warmth of the home, you study your host. His shirt is loose, in an old fashion style you’ve seen only in movies. He wears a vest too, dark black, stark against the red of the ascot around his neck. His slacks are a similar black, as are his shoes, shined and glistening in the candlelight.

Yes, the house is lit with candlelight. They sit, large and fat and melting within their holders up on the wall. They illuminate a small area around them, revealing the wallpaper matches the host, red and black with swirling designs.

“This way.” The man says. You jump at his volume, at the cut of his sharp silver eyes. You have no doubt that he can smell you, smell your preheat, but he makes no indication of it as he starts down the hallway. “I’ll set you up in the parlor, and find you some clothes. You’ll need tea too, to help warm you faster. I’d hate to have you catch your death in my home!”

He rambles on, details of the clothing, of the tea, as he glides through a door on his right. You follow after, unsure but too curious to stay away.

The parlor is as you’d imagine a parlor to be. Only, the interior has far more dust than you expected. It clings to the couches and armchairs, sprinkled atop the low tables and the various candles strewed about the room.

Your host is knelt before the large fireplace, coaxing a low flame to catch onto the thicker logs. As it does, the dim room fills with golden light. It only grows brighter as the man carries a long, thin lighter to the other candles, lighting them one by one.

His slow, careful gestures make you smile. It looks like he’s performing in a play, with how calculated he is lighting the wicks.

“I’m sorry to intrude.” You speak finally, feeling very out of place. If you speak a little more proper, perhaps you’ll fit in better. “The storm. . .”

The man wafts a hand. “Never you mind. I’m happy to help make sure you stay safe in this terrible weather.” He gazes towards you, eyes meeting yours. You’re mesmerized a moment to admire his slicked back hair and thick sideburns, as silver as his eyes. “It came from nowhere, didn’t it?”

“I suppose so.” You say, shuffling closer to the fire. The heat feels good, even with the danger boiling within your own body. “Er, I’m sorry. . .”

“Oh!” The man pauses, head bowing as he gazes at you. His face doesn’t change from the stern frown, but his eyes are softer, demure. “Please forgive me. I am Ingo Trevithick, and this is my manor.”

A manor? Wow. You take a moment to marvel the room again. Ingo continues looking at you.

“Oh!” You giggle, but introduce yourself as well. Ingo repeats your name, saying it like a careful prayer. “Thank you for letting me warm up here.”

“You’re staying.” Ingo says, insisting, though for a moment you tense. “Please, this storm is terrible. I can’t have you going back out in it. Not with it so late.”

You bow back from him, scratching your cheek. He’s right, but suddenly you’re a little unsure of staying. Ingo is very tall, towering over you. His eyes are kind, but you don’t feel. . . right staying.

“I couldn’t-” You try to say, but Ingo shakes his head.

“Please.” He says, frown deepening. “I haven’t had company in quite some time, though I suppose that’s evident, what with all the dust. I hardly use this parlor anymore since. . .” He swallows suddenly, and looks away, towards the fire. “Since my brother left.”

Pain fires through your chest, different from the aching heat of your preheat. Suddenly, you understand why Ingo is so strange. He’s lonely, isolated so far out here in the woods. He doesn’t even seem to have electricity all the way out here.

Poor thing must be so alone.

“Are you sure?” You hazard, still feeling strange about staying in the house of a perfect stranger.

Ingo nods rapidly. “Yes, please!” You have to snort a little at him practically begging you to impose on his home. “I’ll prepare dinner and everything! I promise I can make this old manor homely!”

You shake your head. He really is a bit odd, a bit unaware of social cues, but it’s cute at least.

“No,” you say, and Ingo’s shoulders drop, “I mean, are you sure that you don’t mind me staying here, taking your clothes, and sleeping in your bed?”

“Why would I mind?” Ingo asks you, head cocked like a curious puppy. “You are in need of aid, aid I can provide. Besides, I live here alone. There’s plenty of room for you to stay.”

Warmth bristles through you, preheat clawing at your insides and reminding you that this isn’t just a normal “caught in a storm and spending the night with a stranger” situation. Ingo watches you carefully as you shuffle your feet, breathing a deep sigh.

“You’re shivering.” He says, voice lower than before. “I’ll fetch clothes for you! We’ll discuss this more when you’re not freezing to death!”

You can’t get a word out before he disappears out the door. You huff, but resign to the situation. The roar of the storm outside hasn’t stopped, but at least those alphas from before have seem to have turned back. You suspect it might be safe to leave yourself, and briefly consider it before you shake your head.

The storm and the woods at night? It’s a recipe for disaster. Ingo seems nice enough, and you’re sure the doors have locks, so you don’t have to worry so much about anything hinky. Your preheat should keep you alert enough to detect anything, at least. You can hide a weapon in your sheets as well, if worse comes to worse.

Your options are limited, sadly, so you plan to make due with what you have.

The doors open as you nod to yourself over your decision.

Ingo cradles neatly folded clothes, and sets them on the armchair closest to the door. He bows to you, and you squirm, unused to this reverence he’s addressing you with.

“I’ll let you change.” Ingo says, though he moves towards the fire. You didn’t notice it, but a metal rack, thin poles strung together in a wide ladder, is hidden next to the fireplace. “Place, place your clothes here to dry. I’ll start on some tea and dinner in the meantime.”

“Thank you.” You say, a little dumbfounded by the kindness he’s offering you. Ingo straightens, eyes glistening in the firelight. He’s handsome, face stern but soft, the frown on his lips now more similar to a pout than anything else. “I don’t know how to repay you for this.”

Ingo snorts, the sound strange coming from the man that looks like a Victorian gentleman. “I don’t expect repayment. All I wish is for you to be safe and comfortable. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll start on dinner!”

He glides past you, faster than any man you’ve seen before. As he disappears behind the door once more, you take a moment to blush to yourself. Your preheat is making you swoon so easily over a handsome man’s kindness.

You really need to get home before your actual heat hits and you jump poor Ingo’s bones.

You change into the clothes, far too large for you. Your body lights aflame at the soft fabric’s touch, singing as you tie it tighter around you.

These must be Ingo. The long long pants you have to roll up certainly make it seem that way.

There’s an ache in your chest. You fidget with the sleeves of your new shirt a moment, and glance at the door. There’s no sound to be heard besides the roar of the rain, so you quickly tug up your collar and give it a sniff.

You’re not sure what you’re smelling exactly, but it soothes your preheat instincts well. You can make out the smell of ink, of coffee, and something else just as crisp as the rest. Paper? Or in Ingo’s case, would it be parchment?

You shake your head. It smells nice at least, and it eases the soft burn under your skin. You take another breath, curious of what that last smell is, only to freeze at the creak of the door.

Ingo stands there with a tray, staring at you, his eyes wide though his face is practically unchanged. You blush heavily, and shuffle back, brain struggling to come up with words, excuses for sniffing at the man’s clothes like a weirdo.

“Ah, sorry!” You squeak, chilled palms pressing to your boiling cheeks. “The detergent you use smells nice!”

Ingo turns red. The pink swells up his neck to his face and ears like a cartoon kettle about to boil. You can practically see the steam bursting out of his ears, and it makes you loathe to think you said something inappropriate to the poor man.

“I, er, thank you.” He sputters. Your instincts scream for you to hide under the couch in your embarrassment, but you stand firm, if trembling a little. “I- ahem, I made you tea to help fight off the chill.”

Ingo places the tray down on the coffee table, motioning towards the couch. You dust the cushions off some with your hand, settling down into the plushness. Once upon a time this was probably a wonderful couch, but age seems to have made it stiffer. Still, you relax, accepting the tea Ingo offers you with a small smile.

The brew is steaming, smells sweet, even though it’s a bright red color. You’ve never seen tea so red, but you sip it once Ingo has taken his own slow sip. It tastes as sweet as it smells, with an earthiness that helps soothe away the stress still carried in your shoulders.

“It’s hibiscus.” Ingo says, sensing your unasked question. “I enjoy the sweetness, and it lacks caffeine, so it can be enjoyed at night like this.”

You hum into your cup. “It’s delicious.”

“I have a stew on for dinner.” Ingo continues, eyes watching you intently. He’s probably eager to see you like the tea, right? You try not to squirm under his gaze. “I apologize for not having more fitting clothing.”

“Don’t apologize!” You say quickly. Ingo lowers his cup, tongue darting out to catch a crimson drop from spilling down the side of his chin. Your jaw drops at the sight, body reacting without permission. “I-I’m the one i-intruding.”

Your stuttering only worsens the heat now veining through your body like molten iron. You cross your legs tight, pinching your eyes shut as you sip your tea.

No, you tell yourself sternly, no, you won’t succumb to heat here. You will not have your heat in a stranger’s home, no matter how nice the stranger is.

Ingo calls your name, worried. “Are you alright?”

You set your cup down, and feel your legs buckle as you try to stand. “J-just tired.” You’re shaking again, despite no longer being cold. Your skin alights with goosebumps, yet burns with a deep flush. “I-I think I’ll just g-go to bed now.”

Ingo calls your name again, rising as well. As you tip into your first step towards the door, his hands fire out, palms smoothing up your arms.

You all but collapse into him with a stark whine from deep in your throat. Your nose presses against the smooth silk of his vest, and you get a deep whiff of the ink and parchment and coffee and now tea as well. It sets your body aflame, and your struggle not to climb Ingo like a tree.

“Y-your scent,” Ingo stammers, sounding as hazed as you feel, “so strong. . .” You feel his nose brush against your crown, his shaky breath against you. You ache, wanting his pouty lips on your own, on your skin, to help soothe the burn. “Wh-what is this feeling. . ?”

Your heat delerium pauses, only for a moment. You look up at Ingo, handsome, lonely Ingo. Has he not heard of heats? Of scents? Of omegas and alphas and all of that?

Ingo is an alpha, you can sense as much, but he doesn’t seem to know it himself. That, or this is an act he’s doing for some strange reason.

“Alpha?” You call before your brain can catch up and tell you otherwise.

Ingo nearly collapses, head swiveling side to side in a frantic search for something, though there’s nothing but you and him and the fire lit room. His wide eyes flicker around, before settling on you again. They’re bright and confused, wanting but so unsure.

“Ingo,” you try again, and the man visibly shudders, “I’m in heat.”

He flounders. “Er, I-”

Your heat riddled brain melts at his stammering.

“Ingo, I need a bed.” You lean into him as Ingo nods, head swiveling again like he expects to find a bed in the parlor. “And blankets and pillows, for a nest.”

“A nest!” Ingo repeats, confident despite you knowing he doesn’t know what that is. His hands hook tighter, guiding you towards the door. “And tea! More tea!”

You have to laugh. He’s certainly trying, whether he understands himself or not. You appreciate the effort, and figure that this is as good a place as any to have your heat, even if you feel bad you’re going to be so out of shape for a week.

But Ingo seems trustworthy, so you let him lead you along, and ready yourself for a grueling week to come.

🍓🍓🍓

Chapter One

Be prepared! Next chapter is sexyyyyy

~Renee

#ingo x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #submas x reader

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somecreativecc · 1 year

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SIMBLREEN DOWNLOAD

Wagon Seat

Simblreen 2022

Simblreen 2021 Bat Dome

Simblreen 2021 Spider Web Serving Plates

Simblreen 2021 Log Holder

Simblreen 2021 Fireplace Tools

Simblreen 2021 Updated Pumpkin Wagon

Simblreen 2021 Updated Milkweed

Simblreen 2020 Milkweed Plant

Simblreen 2020 Artwork

Simblreen 2020 Outdoor Tools

Simblreen 2020 Treat Bags

Simblreen 2020 Wood Book Holder

Simblreen 2020 Turkey Handprint Plate

Simblreen 2020 Crate Shelf

Simblreen 2020 Blackboard

Simblreen 2020 Basket of Blankets

Simblreen 2020 Wagon Full of Pumpkins

Simblreen 2023

#somecreative #somecreativecc #the sims 4 #sims 4 cc

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annaofthenorthernlights · 1 year

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Fierce & Feisty Friday

Every Friday can be fierce and feisty! Just post a snippet or excerpt with a character who's being extra fierce or feisty so we can all get in the mood for the weekend.

Thanks @loonysama for tagging me.

I also like to share a (spoiler) snippet from my Sleeping Dream, a Kristanna (Frozen) - Sleeping Beauty Fusion AU for Frozen Yuletide gift exchange 2022

... enjoy a fierce Kristoff fighting for his feisty princess...

_____________

“Let her go!” Kristoff braced his weight against the door frame, glaring at the cold creature.

The sight of Anna was tearing at his heart, but at the same time it was stirring the heat of rage within him. The hot wave of boiling blood roaring up his complete system made him leap forward in a heave. Only that he had miscalculated the force with which that icy witch was armed.

Maleficent waved her hands towards him exiting an ice jet and made him stagger backward into the wall. The fireplace next to him was cold, and even the logs at the side were frozen. He could not fight that demon with flames, there must be another way. Instinctively he grabbed the poker from the holder and held it firm, ready to fight if necessary.

“How sweet. Do you really think you can overpower me with this?”

The witch scornfully glared at his hands and threw a warning ice arrow into Kristoff´s direction. He blocked the dashing icicle with the poker and smashed it against the corner, taking two strides towards the witch. And if he had to fight with her barehanded, all he thought of was to get to Anna, to pick her up and run away with her.

But first, kiss her, telling her how much he loved her!

Maleficent didn´t wait any longer and started throwing icicles against the surprising intruder one by one. And Kristoff concentrated on the attacking ice, giving another blow after another to make his way over to Anna.

But the witch then suddenly turned and pulled up an ice wall around Anna, so that she laid blocked from him. Kristoff enraged completely, swinging the poker before him like a dashing axe and hammered the sharp pointer into the ice wall roaring an infuriated scream which magically provided another fit of strength into his arms.

The witch laughed menacingly and stepped closer now. Her ice wall increased, and Kristoff realised he needed to be more cunning. So, he pretended to continue pricking into the ice wall to get to Anna, calling out her name, while the cold creature approached him in the corner of his eyes. When she was close enough, he turned swiftly, grabbed a broken icicle and stabbed it right into the witch´s heart with all the force he mustered. The woman screamed in pain, clutched her chest and glared at the man with cold eyes.

“What have you done?”

_______

Tagging (feel freeeee): @bad-at-names-and-faces @thecassadilla @hiptoff @weasleasley

#fierce and feisty friday #fanfiction #kristanna #sleeping dream #my writing #frozen - sleeping beauty fusion au

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oathofancient · 1 year

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really short WraithHound one shot that I wrote aaaages ago. never thought to post this stuff to tumblr but here we go. I hope y’all enjoy 🥺👉🏼👈🏼 you can find my ao3 here

just wanna let you know that Grim is Renee / Wraith from Apex. I wrote this before we learned her name and have always called her Grim from the start. This is in Blóð’s POV.

⠀They shifted in their sleep as their heavy eyes blinked open. Just enough light swept into the room through the cracks in the blinds for Blóð to just barely make out the outlines of their bedroom furniture. It must have still been early enough that the sun hadn’t completely risen from the horizon yet, just barely painting the word with it’s morning dew.

⠀Blóð, upon slowly waking up with each quiet tick of their alarm clock, embraced the warmth from underneath their faux down comforter, yet their nose frozen from sticking out just barely in the open. With a careful stretch, so as not to wake a sleeping Grim at their left, carefully kicked their legs out from underneath the warm comforter; only to notice that one sock had gone missing since going to bed that night, their toes curling upon coming in contact with the cool wood floors. They’d have to remember to get a small fire going in the living rooms fireplace when they got up and ready for the morning.

⠀With quiet steps, neglecting to grab another sock for their lone sockless foot, Blóð immediately beelined for the kitchen in a sluggish manner, dragging their feet as they rubbed the sand from their eyes. Without the slightest bit of concentration, Blóð shuffled around, attempting to make some coffee -- Grim usually took care of their coffee in the mornings; she knew where everything was, bless her soul. She took care of them more than Blóð cared to admit; she was a saint. All the menial things that Blóð took for granted.

⠀With a few more side steps around the kitchen, they fingered the coffee machine and smiled slightly as it whirred to life, brewed coffee pouring into the pot. Pulling mugs from the dishwasher and setting them out on the counter, they sought out a sweater from their pile of clean laundry left in the living room, having folded it the evening prior. They pulled it over their head, their fingers just poking through the sleeves, growing pink as they became colder and colder.

⠀With tender hands, Blóð pulled some wood from its collection next to the fireplace and placed it in the mouth of said fireplace, lighting it with nearby matches. They stood by idly, their arms crossed loosely and palms caressing their elbows as they waited to make sure the logs held the flame. Once they were satisfied, they shuffled their way back to the kitchen to retrieve their coffee, the aroma filling their nose as they grew closer. Pouring their mug, they returned the pot to the holder, enough left over for Grim when she awoke.

⠀Sipping from their mug, Blóð hummed their appreciation as the warm liquid ran over their tongue, sighing with content as they pulled the mug from their lips. Satisfied that the fire in the fireplace would be contained, they decided to step out onto the porch to continue to watch the sun rise, only slightly lighter outside since when they awoke this morning.

⠀The bite of the cool air pinched at their cheeks, making them scrunch their shoulders up to their ears. They slightly wrapped both hands around their mug and held it close, as if they could absorb the warmth into their body.

⠀Carefully, they sat on a nearby bench, tucking their feet underneath their body. The leaves on the trees of the woods surrounding their cabin were shades of orange, yellow, and brown, occasionally a few leaves falling to the grass coated with frost. A few moments of sitting in silent consideration passed, the sunshine creeping its way over the front lawn. Blóð heard the front door slowly creak open only to find Grim tiredly waddle onto the porch, a mug of coffee held close with their comforter wrapped around her shoulders.

⠀“Morning, sweetheart,” Blóð croaked, adjusting slightly to make more room on the bench. Grim moaned her response, which Blóð couldn’t help but smile slightly and chuckle, allowing Grim to wrap the blanket around them both and cuddle up against their side, resting her head on their shoulder.

⠀“Happy three year anniversary,” Blóð hummed, linking their right hand with Grims left, toying with her tungsten wedding band.

#wraith apex legends #renee blasey #Renee blasey apex legends #apex legends #bloodhound #bloodhound apex legends #bloodhound apex #wraith apex #wraithhound #wraithhound apex #wraithhound apex legends #Renee hope blasey #ellofello writes

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prep4tomoro · 1 year

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Wood Cutting/Splitting/Breaking Safety:

Anyone who relies on wood heat for the home, camping or survival needs to understand precautions in cutting, splitting and breaking wood to prevent injury and save time and physical energy.

Protect eyes, hands and feet, tie back long hair, remove loose-fitting jewelry, wear long sleeve shirt (tight cuffs) and long pants.

Learn how to properly use any tools or equipment (ax, hatchet, maul, wedge, chain saw or wood splitter) before use.

Keep fingers away from any tool in motion.

Keep children and pets away from the work area.

Have a second person to assist to increase safety, decrease injury and call for help if someone is injured.

Have others stand back when tools are in use to reduce potential injury from flying shards of wood or metal.

Never operate any machinery when you've been using alcohol/drugs or if you're feeling ill or very tired.

Cutting Firewood in 2-inches slices (like a pie), instead of splitting it length-wise, may be easier on the back. It will dry faster and naturally split halfway through. In a camping or survival mode, tools may not be available to cut wood for a fire and resorting to "breaking" it may be necessary. Unnecessary risk is not a good idea. A sprained ankle or gash in the hand can severely hamper the ability to effect survival. As good as a fire is, getting injured in the process of gathering firewood is not worth it. Forget breaking wood over any body part (knee, etc.) or slamming it against a tree to cause flying debris. The fork of a tree is much better option. Knowing how to break wood without injury is knowledge worth having. Splitting Wood Safely Splitting Wood Quickly with a Fiskars How to Safely Fell a Tree with a Chainsaw

Cutting Small Fire Logs can be challenging and dangerous (especially when using a chainsaw). Keeping the log secure, and not moving around, can be done with a Log Cutting Holder. There are many commercial versions but P4T is all about self-reliance and DIY so this one fit the bill for me. Determine the maximum diameter of log you'll want to cut. Logs that are larger than 6" in diameter are, probably, going to be heavy enough to not move around easily. The angle of the legs is entirely up to you and based on the log diameter. Making them angled too far out will lower the log closer to the ground and would be less room for the saw to move (especially a hand saw). On the other hand making the legs too close to each other will make the device less stable, so you have to find a middle ground. The legs in the photo [above] are about 26" long. Log Cutting Tools are useful for making a difficult task easier. Learning how to properly use these tools will make the task even easier and safer. The following tools are recommended to learn for proper use:

Axe

Sledgehammer and Wedge

Hatchet (portable)

Bow Saw

Chainsaw [Video 1] [Video 2]

Saws-All (Reciprocating Saw)

Log Splitter - reduces the size of logs for use in a fire (fireplace or woodstove). Gas-powered and manual versions are available.

[Reference Link]

[14-Point Emergency Preps Checklist] [11-Cs Basic Emergency Kit] [Learn to be More Self-Sufficient] [The Ultimate Preparation]

#firewood #woodCuttingSafety #prepper #survival #shtf #diy #logCuttingHolder #firewoodCuttingHolder #woodCuttingTools #toolsWoodCutting #tools #wooden it be nice #cutting wood safely #wood cutting safety #breaking wood safely

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zumpfireplace · 1 year

Link

Naturally, my search for MCM Red/Orange fireplace tools took me down an even moar evvvolll rabbit hole:

These are better because while moar $$$

A) Un-”restored” (wish the ebay seller had left it in OG/found condition, cuz he kinda wrecked it)

B) Tools AND a log holder, you say????

Just lookity:

Sadly, it’s gonna be a few weeks before I’ll feel comfortable buying this $795+shipping.....but am I, probably, as a Bday gift to moi-self? Yeah.....if it’s still there....

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 1 year

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

March 15, 2023

Heather Cox Richardson

The Justice Department today announced the arrest of Chinese billionaire Guo Wengui, also known as Ho Wan Kwok and Miles Guo, charged with defrauding followers of more than $1 billion. The 12-count indictment for wire fraud, securities fraud, bank fraud, and money laundering says Guo and a co-conspirator, Kin Ming Je, raised money by promising stock in Guo’s GTV Media Group, a high-end club, or cryptocurrency but then used the money themselves for items that included a $53,000 fireplace log holder, a watch storage box that cost almost $60,000, and two $36,000 mattresses, as well as more typical luxury items: a 50,000-square-foot mansion, a Lamborghini, and designer furniture.

The U.S. government seized more than $630 million from multiple bank accounts as well as other assets purchased with illicit money. If convicted, Guo faces up to 20 years in prison. Guo has attracted donors by developing the idea that he is a principled opponent of the Chinese Communist Party, but Dan Friedman, who writes on lobbying and corruption for Mother Jones, points out that this persona appears to be a grift. Guo is close to sometime Trump ally Steve Bannon, who was reading a book on Guo’s yacht, Lady May, when federal officers arrested him in 2020 for defrauding donors of $25 million in his “We Build the Wall” fundraising campaign. Rather than constructing a wall, Bannon and three associates funneled that money to themselves. Trump pardoned Bannon for that scheme hours before he left office. Friedman points out that prosecutors say Guo’s criminal conspiracy began in 2018, which is the year that Guo and Bannon launched The Rule of Law Foundation and the Rule of Law Society. They claimed the organizations would defend human rights in China and then, according to prosecutors, lured donors to other products. In April 2020, Guo and Bannon formed the GTV Media Group, which flooded the news with disinformation before the 2020 election, especially related to Hunter Biden and the novel coronavirus. Sued by the U.S. Securities and Exchange Commission in September 2021 for the illegal sale of cryptocurrency, GTV paid more than $539 million to settle the case. Bannon’s War Room webcast features Guo performing its theme song. One of the entities Guo and Bannon created together is the “New Federal State of China,” which sponsored the Conservative Political Action Conference in Washington, D.C., earlier this month. In other money news, Hugo Lowell of The Guardian reported today that $8 million of the loans that bankrolled Trump’s social media platform Truth Social came from two entities that are associated with Anton Postolnikov, a relation of an ally of Russian president Vladimir Putin named Aleksandr Smirnov. Banks continue to writhe, in Europe this time, as Credit Suisse disclosed problems in its reporting and its largest investor, Saudi National Bank, said it would not inject more cash into the institution. The government of Switzerland says it will backstop the bank. In the U.S., Michael Brown, a venture partner at Shield Capital and former head of the Defense Department’s Defense Innovation Unit, told Marcus Weisgerber and Patrick Tucker of Defense One that the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank had the potential to be a big problem for national security, since a number of the affected start-ups were working on projects for the defense sector. “If you want to kind of knock out the seed corn for the next decade or two of innovative tech, much of which we need for the competition with China, [collapsing SVB] would have been a very effective blow. [Chinese President Xi Jinping and Russian President Vladimir Putin] would have been cheering to see so many companies fail.” Federal and state investigators are looking into the role of Representative George Santos (R-NY) in the sale of a $19 million yacht from one of his wealthy donors to another, for which he collected a broker’s fee. In an interview with Semafor last December, Santos explained that his income had jumped from $55,000 in 2020 to enough money to loan his 2022 campaign $705,000 because he had begun to act as a broker for boat or plane sales. He told Semafor: “If you’re looking at a $20 million yacht, my referral fee there can be anywhere between $200,000 and $400,000.” Today’s emphasis on money and politics brings to mind the speech then–FBI director Robert Mueller gave in New York in 2011, warning about a new kind of national security threat: “so-called ‘iron triangles’ of organized criminals, corrupt government officials, and business leaders” allied not by religion or political inclinations, but by greed. It also brings to mind the adamant opposition of then–National Republican Senatorial Committee chair Mitch McConnell (R-KY) to campaign finance reform in 1997 after he raised a record-breaking amount of money for Republican candidates, saying that political donations are simply a form of free speech. The Supreme Court read that interpretation into law in the 2010 Citizens United decision, but the increasingly obvious links between money, politics, and national security suggest it might be worth revisiting. Money and politics are in the news in another way today, too, as part of the ongoing budget debates. A letter yesterday from the Congressional Budget Office to Senators Sheldon Whitehouse (D-RI) and Ron Wyden (D-OR), answering their questions about how to eliminate the deficit by 2033, says that it is impossible to balance the budget by that year without either raising revenue or cutting either Social Security, Medicare, or defense spending. Even zeroing out all discretionary spending is not sufficient. Led by House speaker Kevin McCarthy (R-CA), Republicans have promised they can do so, but they have not yet produced a budget. This CBO information makes their job harder. And finally, today, in Amarillo, Texas, U.S. District Judge Matthew Kacsmaryk held a hearing on the drug mifepristone, used in about half of medically induced abortions. The right-wing “Alliance Defending Freedom,” acting on behalf of antiabortion medical organizations and four doctors, is challenging the approval process the Food and Drug Administration used 22 years ago to argue that the drug should be prohibited. While the approval process took more than four years, it was conducted under an expedited process that speeds consideration of drugs that address life-threatening illnesses. “Pregnancy is not an illness,” senior counsel for Alliance Defending Freedom Julie Marie Blake said. And yet mifepristone is commonly used in case of miscarriage and for a number of other medical conditions. And Texas’s Maternal Mortality and Morbidity Review, released in December 2022, concluded that from March 2021 to December 2022, at least 118 deaths in Texas were related to pregnancy. In 2020, 861 deaths in the U.S. were related to pregnancy, up from 754 in 2019. Public health officials note that extensive research both in the U.S. and in Europe has proven the medication is safe and effective. They warn that a judge’s overturning a drug’s FDA approval 20 years after the fact could upend the country’s entire drug-approval system, as approvals for coronavirus treatments, for example, become plagued by political challenges. Kacsmaryk was appointed by Trump and is well known for his right-wing views on abortion and same-sex marriage. Initially, he kept the hearing over a nationwide ban on the key drug used for medicated abortion off the docket, and in a phone call last Friday he asked lawyers not to publicize today’s hearing, saying he was concerned about safety. Legal observers were outraged at the attack on judicial transparency—a key part of our justice system—and Chris Geidner of LawDork outlined the many times Kacsmaryk had taken a stand in favor of the “public’s right to know.” According to Ian Millhiser of Vox, Kacsmaryk let 19 members of the press and 19 members of the public into today’s hearing.

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LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#heather cox richardson #Letters From An American #Corrupt GOP #Criminal GOP #Kacsmaryk #Corrupt SCOTUS #money in politics #Citizens United

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