#tips for surviving in the wilderness

[beardedbastardoutdoors]

Don't Get Caught Unprepared: A Step-by-Step Guide to Building Your Own Survival Kit

Feeling pumped and prepared after putting together my very own survival kit using the step-by-step guide from our latest blog post! 💪🏼🎒🔥 Who's ready to take on anything that comes their way? #survivalkit #preparedness #excited

‍ Introduction to Survival KitsWhy You Need a Survival KitEssential Items for a Survival KitWaterFoodShelterFirst Aid SuppliesLightToolsCommunicationBuilding Your Own Survival Kit – Step-by-Step GuideStep 1: Determine your needsStep 2: Choose your containerStep 3: Gather your suppliesStep 4: Pack your kitStep 5: Test your kitChoosing the Right Container for Your Survival KitMaintaining and…

[welcometogrouchland]

I like to think that when the batfamily inevitably runs out of money and jobless Bruce, Tim, and Dick* find themselves in financial need, Steph reveals that she's made thousands of dollars taking odd jobs around Gotham City that we just never saw bc Steph hasn't been in a comic for months. Nobody checked in on her and while they weren't looking she made 6 grand babysitting and playing piano at a local theatre. Bruce has to grovel for enough money to buff out a scratch on the batmobile and Steph is revelling in it. This is the closest she's ever going to get to being a supervillain

*(Cass and Jason don't need money to survive on account of being homeless as kids + Babs funds Cass' basic needs and Damian is on his mom's payroll, same w/ duke even if it's obvs not al ghul money)

[a-life-lived-outdoors]

Want to hang your pack but don't have a good branch to use?

I've shown the Y stick lashed to a tree method before, but this one is simpler and requires less specific equipment. It can also be used for clothing as well.

One hank of paracord. Usually I carry a 6 foot long section with a loop tied at one end, this one is a tarp ridgline so it's a little bit longer.

Find a nice stick with a slight bend in the middle for the tie point. Cut it, saw it, break it, doesn't really matter. Wrap your paracord around the trunk at eye level and bring the tag end through your loop. Wrap the tag end around your branch a few times, either by lashing or by a knot. Tighten down and you're all set. It will droop down to a good height before the tension holds it in place.

Place your pack or clothing item on and admire your handy work. If the tension and everything is right, the pack should be at a comfortable chest height to access the inside.

The perfect way to improvise a pack or cloths hanger without too much effort expended.

[crazydiscostu]

The World Is Ending : 10 Essential Skills To Survive The Fall Of Civilisation

With the British government issuing announcements about prepping, and the current state of the world, (armed conflicts, propaganda, climate communism, third wave feminism…..) we figured it was time to look into some essential skills for the coming apocalypse. Here is our top 10 list of Essential Skills To Survive The Fall Of Civilisation! The following skills are bullet-pointed for easy…

[survivalmission]

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[the-survivalist]

How to make an Aloe Vera Hair Conditioner in the Wilderness

Do you want to know the old traditions of treating and curing a person using natural herbals, fruits, etc ? I will give 10 natural treatments from the olden days that are effective before. It also has recipes and instructions. Try it because it's free. CLICK HERE

[survivaloffgrid]

A Must-Know Practical Medicine Remedies for Every Household

All Survivalists must acquire such tips and techniques to help them in case of emergencies: Let’s cut straight to the chase Get A Copy Today!

[redgearguru]

Can I Camp On U.S. Governement Federal Land For Free

The U.S. federal government owns over a quarter of the nation’s land, which is more than 640 million acres. This vast network of public lands is managed by agencies like the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) and the U.S. Forest Service. They offer a wealth of opportunities for free, dispersed camping across the country. Exploring and camping on these federal lands can provide a unique and…

[wanderguidehub]

Essential Camping Gear: What to Bring Camping

The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and the wilderness beckons. It’s time to pack up and head out on a camping adventure. But before you hit the great outdoors, make sure you have the right gear. The right camping gear can make or break your trip, and knowing what to bring will ensure that you’re prepared for anything. In this blog post, we’ll cover the essential camping gear you need to…

[natinalpartisan]

Survival Gear Essentials: Building Your Prepper Arsenal with Tactical Tools

Are you prepared for any emergency or disaster? Discover the essential survival gear you need to build a robust prepper arsenal with tactical tools. This comprehensive guide highlights the must-have items for every survivalist, ensuring you're equipped for any situation. From durable knives and multi-purpose tools to versatile shelters and advanced communication devices, we cover it all. Learn about the latest innovations in emergency preparedness, wilderness survival, and self-reliance. Whether you're an outdoor enthusiast, a prepper, or someone concerned about potential disruptions, this guide will help you navigate through challenging times with confidence. Gear up, stay prepared, and safeguard yourself and your loved ones with these tactical tools.

[beardedbastardoutdoors]

The Ultimate Guide to Building a Lean-To Survival Shelter: Master Wilderness Survival in 5 Simple Steps

Discover the power of lean-to shelters for ultimate wilderness survival! Learn how to build and benefit from this versatile shelter in our latest article. #WildernessSurvival #OutdoorAdventure #LeanToShelterGuide

Introduction In the vast expanse of the wilderness, where nature reigns supreme, having the knowledge and skills to construct a reliable and efficient shelter is paramount. Whether you are an outdoor enthusiast, a seasoned adventurer, or someone who simply seeks to learn the art of wilderness survival, this comprehensive guide is here to equip you with the essential techniques and insights to…

[linksfunroadtrip]

TIPS FOR WILDERNESS SURVIVAL #1: don't live at sea for most of your life. you can't learn to forage in sand

[a-life-lived-outdoors]

Not sure what should go with you into the woods? Don't want to pack too much stuff and tire yourself out? An easy way to figure out what you do, and don't need is to think about how difficult it is to create that item in the bush.

Besides the fact you should always carry a first aid kit, alot of things can be crafted in the bush from the natural materials instead of brought with you. However, this can be incredibly time consuming, and the results are sometimes only marginal.

-Making a container is the biggest pain, so a metal water container should always go along.

-Making your own cordage is time consuming, the good stuff weighs almost nothing and packs easy.

-Making a cutting tool can be a difficult skill to aquire, and sometimes there just isn't a good rock present to break for a flint blade. I wouldn't travel in the woods without a good fixed blade. A saw is optional but it makes everything easier.

-A small tarp or poncho is great to have along for the trip. Rain, snow, bad weather, and a scorching sun can all be kept off you with one. There are light and heavy options, but they all will work. Just pick what makes the most sense for your area.

-Having ways to start a fire is a must. A ferro rod and a lighter are as easy as it gets. If your knife is made from a carbon steel, a sharp rock can be struck on the spine of it to throw sparks. You can make or collect tinder from the landscape. The more you do it, the easier it gets. Commercial tinder will work, but the vast majority of them can be made at home for much less.

The best tool is knowledge. Get out and use what you got. The more seat time with your gear, the more comfortable you'll be with carrying less. Learn what's edible in your area, learn what you can use for tinder, and learn the terrain. All those things can help you find food, fire, and water. A picture in a book telling you how to carve a figure 4 trap won't do you a lick of good when you've never carved one before and need to make one right there. Practice is the only way to make sure you'll be able to replicate something in the field.

Safe travels.

[rottenpumpkin13]

First Class brushing habits/nightly bed time routine...face creams? Do they floss at every meal? Water before bed? Lavender spray? Tea?

Sleeping habits? Naked sleeping?

Some of Sephiroth's bed time routine habits:

• Dissociate for thirty minutes after getting back from work.

• Take a shower, think about all the interactions he had that day and cringe at half of them.

• Put on black silk pajamas. Feel humid. Take off shirt.

• Watch dinner spin in the microwave and realize he should be eating something that's in line with his mandated diet, but he's too tired to care right now. (+bonus points if it's instant ramen that he's added a few eggs into)

• Brush hair. Brush teeth. Put hair in messy braid. Gaze into mirror and be simultaneously pleased with his appearance and long for the sweet release of aging and the prospect of retirement.

• Turn on humidifier and diffuser (chamomile). Crawl into bed with a book. Pull sheets over his head and read with a flashlight (a tip Genesis gave him to feel more connected to his inner child).

• Finish book in one sitting because he reads abnormally fast. Lay in bed.

• I n s o m n i a

Some of Genesis' bed time routine habits:

• Get home from work, immediately shed his uniform and draw himself a bubble bath because he cannot and will not exist in his space while he's dirty.

• Take his bath filled with oils and teas (sometimes petals), where he will proceed to either: fall asleep immediately, drop his book/PHS in the water, spill his wine in the water, or fall victim to overthinking, anxiety and unsavory thoughts.

• Do his simple routine—body lotion, wash face, moisturize face + use serum, apply leave-in conditioner, brush his hair, apply deodorant, brush teeth, floss, brush teeth again, apply lip balm, apply body mist, apply cologne, and then put on red silk pajamas.

• Order food, realize he should be eating something that's in line with his mandated diet, but he's too tired to care right now. (+bonus points if it's Wutaian food).

• Brush teeth again.

• Pray.

• Light scented candles (apple cinnamon) and crawl into bed with a book.

Some of Angeal's bed time routine habits:

• Get home from work and immediately go into the kitchen to cook something. It's never anything elaborate unless he has company, 90% of the time he uses leftovers to make something else.

• Eat while watching those wilderness survival TV shows.

• Take a shower.

• Scream at the top of his lungs as Sephiroth and Genesis pop their heads into the shower to ask of they can sleep over.

[peachesofteal]

Floorplan

Steve Rogers/female reader 2.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Explicit sex. Nomad era Steve. Reader and Steve have a baby together, mention of pregnancy. Possessive Steve Rogers. Praise kink. Breeding kink. Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Orgasm delay/denial. Could be considered toxic. Steve has issues with boundaries. Angst. Steve Rogers is keeping a secret.

Steve Rogers is keeping a secret. 

It’s heavy, heavier than most, this you know without a doubt, because you carry it as well, it’s existence a variable in your life that you never expected, never even imagined, if you’re being honest. 

A variable that ties him to you, indefinitely. For eternity. For better or for worse, without the papers or proof, the only exception being the small infant that sleeps in the room down the hall, while her father has you pinned against the bed, fingers digging into your thighs, splaying your body wide for him to do as he wishes, because you’re so fucking weak.

“Steve.” You hiss, word drawn loud from your mouth when the tip of his tongue works in tandem with his fingers, playing your clit easily, hips eagerly rocking against his face. 

“Pillow, honey. Don’t want to be too loud.” He murmurs a reminder into your cunt, crooking a finger up against that spot, the sweet spot that waits for him inside your body, working you into a mindless haze, building you up closer and closer to an orgasm until you’re panting, curve of your spine shining with a glimmer of sweat. “That’s it, that’s it. Almost there.” He hums, pulling away at the last second to peek up at your face, beard wet with you, absolutely soaked with your arousal. It glistens in the low light of your bedroom, and he smirks before going back to his meal, dotting gentle and slow kisses down the inside of your thigh that make you whisper desperate pleas. 

“Steve, please, don’t-“ Don’t stop. Keep going. Please, please, please. 

“Shhh. I know.” He coos. “Just need to get you ready for me sweetheart, that’s all.” And, if you weren’t so lost in the haze of your pleasure right now, you’d probably have something sharp to say in response. He always does this. Brings you to the edge over, and over, makes you wild for him, ache for him, just so he can pluck your strings perfectly, harmonize your need with his since your mind won’t budge, his possession of your body always tipping you over the cliff and into his arms, every time, without fail. 

Even a sailor lost at sea needs an anchor. 

And he is lost, has been, for some time. Since Bucky. Since Tony. Since he broke everyone out of the raft and went on the run, dipping in and out of towns and cities across the globe. 

That’s how you met him. That’s how you brought him home one night, that turned into two, that turned into more, and more. Your greed, your desire overriding your good sense because he was leaving soon, and he wouldn’t be around, and it’s all just some fun- I can keep a secret, Steve, you don’t have to hide from me. You’re safe with me. We’re not even together, just enjoying each other’s company, yeah?

You never thought you would survive it, loving him. Loving a man who’s not a man at all, who’s lost in the wilderness, who’s relearning everything about himself and the world all at once. Cast out by his country, his own namesake. Living on the run. Living with his band of misfit toys. 

So, you kept it to yourself, even though he didn’t. Even though you heard him whisper it to you in the middle of the night, when he thought you must be asleep. Even though it felt like obsession, possession, both ends burning the midnight oil. You kept it to yourself, kept the smile on your face, kept the swell of your emotions at bay. 

If you don’t love him, it won’t be as bad, when he goes. When they move on. 

Then, Steve Rogers did something he didn’t even know he could do. Something he didn’t intend, he claims, something he was told should be impossible. 

He gave you a baby. 

He gave you a baby, and everything changed. 

You’re just about to spit out something insistent, something needy, as he calls it, when you’re being moved, flipped over to your belly with no warning, the warmth of his chest bleeding across your back. His beard tickles against your ear, mouth pressing sweet kisses to your temple, and you can smell yourself on him, the proof of your weakness for him all over his face. 

“Here we go, good girl. I’ve got you.” The solid weight of his cock lays between you, the spill of his pre come smearing against the inside of your thighs and then inside of you, the heavy, thick head pushing in little by little, your mouth drooping wide on the pillow. 

“Ahh-“ you groan. It bites, the stretch, the sting of it all, and he knows, he loves it, and you do too (even though now you never tell him, because it’s not like before, not like when you weren’t the mother of his child, not like when things were simpler, when you could have walked away, when you weren’t falling down the rabbit hole with a man who has lost his entire identity, his country, his life-)

“God, honey. What a sweet little pussy you have for me, huh?” His teeth find the skin of your neck, below your jaw, and they graze with a nip, light pressure to punctuate his ownership. For me. For me, for me, for me. “Just perfect. My perfect, good girl.” You try to bite back the moan that rises in your throat but it’s impossible, and he’s no fool, the curl of his smile imprints across your skin, cock sawing in and out of your body like you were made for it. 

He says you were, of course. That you were made for him, and for no one else, and he doesn’t care what happens in the next year, or two, or ten. You’ll always be his. He’ll always come back. He’ll always be here. 

“What will you do if… when you go home, to America?”

“I’ll bring you both. Put you up in a place. Or maybe I’ll buy you a house, honey. With a white picket fence and everything. Give you another baby. Give you two more babies.”

“Steve-“

“No, no. Don’t.”

“Steve.” You whine, still mouthing the pillow, fingers tight in the sheets. You clench down around him, unable to keep yourself from barreling towards your orgasm any longer, and he whispers encouragement in your ear, soft praise of how good you feel and how wet and are you going to come for me, honey? You going to give a me a good one? Let me feel you squeezing my cock with it?

Your first orgasm comes with ease. So does your second. 

Your third comes with tears that he laps up across your cheek, as too many words get stuck in your throat. I love you. I hate you. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you to leave. 

It builds, each time he slips inside the house at night, each time you come home from work or errands and he’s sitting on the couch reading a book, or sketching, just waiting for you and Emmaline. It builds and builds, when he’s got you bent over the kitchen table, cheek pressed to the wood, sinking his cock into your body with an unmatched fury, breathing claims of ownership against your skin. Mine, for me. My girls. My baby. 

“Maybe I’ll give you another. Fill you up until you’re overflowing, get you pregnant.” It’s an overload, a killshot straight to your heart, your nervous system, and it engulfs you in fire, your body clenching around his cock involuntarily, like all it wants is to be bred by him, fucked deep with his come until you’re round with his baby, again. And he knows it, knows it too well. Sees the way your eyes shutter, can feel the way your body begs for it. You want to come, and he’ll torture you with it, dragging it out until you’re breaking apart. “Go ahead, tell me honey. Say it, do you want it?” 

“Y-yes, please. Please, daddy.” 

Everything you carry, all the tangles, the snarled mess that exists in your heart for him surges, and his hand sneaks between the mattress and your body to cup your belly, palm warm like a brand. Like it’s always been, now, and before- 

He holds you from behind, hands flush overtop your navel, stroking the roundness of your stomach with longing affection. 

“How’re my girls today?” 

“Tired.” You shift, and he hums in response. You’re about to snap at him about being here in the first place, remind him he can’t just use his key whenever, let himself inside whenever, but his hands drift to the bottom of your belly and lift, robbing you of all the lectures and rebuttals as the pressure on your spine is instantly relieved. 

“That better sweetheart?” 

He’s deep, so deep that it burns, head of his cock punching against your cervix, hitting that spot repeatedly. You gasp, burying your face in the pillow, smothering the shriek of your moans. He’s close, you can tell, you can feel it, the way his muscles start to become rock, the strike of his hips against your ass moving you further up the bed until your neck is craning to the side to avoid the headboard.

“Here it comes honey, lie still, just- just let me- let me give it to you.” It’s a stammered slur being pushed out through a too tense jaw, restraint burning in his muscles, arms cradling you like a precious, rare gem to be coveted, something more important than duty and a shield. 

Later, he’s still in your bed, even though he said he wouldn’t be. 

He’s heavy, and hot, so hot that you don’t need a blanket when he holds you. You find it fascinating, even more curious that your own child runs hotter than normal too, more evidence of the clear truth that both you and Steve are working vigilantly to hide and disguise. 

“You should sleep.” He’s insistent, and your lashes flutter closed with a big breath. 

“You don’t have to stay.” He wants to. He’s stubborn about it. It’s the reason he gave for appearing on your doorstep earlier. 

“Why didn’t you call? I would’ve come sooner.” 

“It’s not like I know where you are these days.” 

“Don’t. Don’t… start this.” 

“She has colic, Steve. There’s not much you’re going to be able to do, we just have to ride it out.” 

“I don’t care. I’m here.” 

He was the one who had managed getting Emmaline to sleep earlier, rocking her in his arms until she settled, sweet little baby finally succumbing to lullaby of sweet dreams in her dad’s arms. 

He’s so good at it, taking care of her, understanding what she needs and when, that you hardly sputtered a protest when he clicked her door shut and pulled you in for a kiss, pushing you into your own bedroom and laying you out on your back, a hand pinning your stomach to the sheets, another gripping your thigh wide for him, his strength forcing your body into a trap, where you were powerless. Stuck.  

“I guess I gotta put both my girls to bed, right? Isn’t that what you needed? Just needed daddy here, honey?”  

“Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll get her, when she gets up.” The fire of his skin makes everything in the room feel heavy, feel heady, and it’s so easy to slip into your imagination to pretend, dream about a world where your relationship wasn’t shattered, where Emmaline’s dad wasn’t just a shadow in the dark half the time he’s in the house, in her life, in yours. 

“You can’t just keep coming here, acting like everything is normal.” You whisper to the ceiling, but he doesn’t respond, just hums into your skin, deaf to your sense, your logic. 

You’re right. You know you are. Why can’t he just see that?

“Steve.” You pick at him. Pushing and pushing, careening closer to a breaking point, an inevitable end when he will sigh with the weight of exasperation, and then ease himself out of bed and disappear into the night. 

“This is the normal, for now.” He says instead, a rebuttal that takes you by surprise, a change in his usual course. Fingers stretch over yours with a yank, pulling you closer into the bend of his body. “But it won’t always be like this. We’ll go home soon.” Home. It sounds nice, but feels like a threat, considering this has been your home for years now, and this was where you were raising Emmaline, and this is where you had settled into life, started a career, put down roots. 

“Steve, I’m already home.” You remind him and he chuckles softly against your brow. 

“Are you?”