#hazardous tree removal

[chrisstumps05]

"You Won't Believe How Lucky I Got on This Tree & Stump Grinding Job!"

[treeservicejacksontn]

Importance of Tree Health Assessment Jackson TN: Keeping Your Trees Strong and Healthy

The trees around your compound need to be kept in check to avoid becoming a nuisance, unattractive and even proving hazardous to human life. Trees provide shade, improve the aesthetic value of a property, and improve the health of the environment but they need maintenance to remain healthy. Another important aspect of tree care is a health check where you get to determine the health state of your trees. In this blog, you will learn more about tree health assessment, signs of tree problems, and how tree services like tree removal, local tree trimming, and tree care can help your trees remain healthy.

Why Tree Health Assessments are Important

A tree health assessment is a comprehensive evaluation of the health status of a tree including the root system and crown. This assessment can reveal some signs of disease, structural defects, pests or some other factors that may make this tree to be a danger to property and individuals. Regular assessments offer many benefits, including:

1. Preventing Tree Hazards

Maintenance value also arises where over some time trees can produce structural defects through stress factors, disease or pests. During an assessment, tree care professionals are able to identify problems such as decaying branches, root damage or weak limbs. If these issues are detected when they are still small, trees do not turn into hazards, meaning that one cannot expect to wake up one morning and find that branches or the entire tree have fallen.

2. Promoting Tree Longevity

Tree health checks are possible throughout the year, and this means that diseases or pest infestations can be identified early enough before affecting your trees. All of these can help prevent or minimize the damage that your trees might suffer, which in turn, will help you keep the look of your landscape for years.

3. Enhancing Property Value

Live trees contribute to the value of the property. An overgrown tree, or one suffering from disease, can also detract from the attractiveness of the property, and can actually be hazardous. Pruning and other forms of tree care helps to keep your trees looking good and increase their value to your property.

Common Tree Health Problems and Signs

There are numerous diseases, pest attacks, and environmental conditions that create health problems in trees and shrubs, as well as poor pruning and maintenance practices. Here are some common signs that indicate your tree may need attention:

Dead or decaying branches: Diseased branches may be indicative of other problems ailing the tree. They can also become risky and can fall and cause harm to property or individuals below them.

Discolored or wilting leaves: It is common to have leaves that are spotted, curled or fallen off early and may be a sign of a disease or nutrient deficiency.

Visible fungi: Any type of fungi on the tree’s outer bark or in the trunk’s root could be an indication that the tree is rotten inside.

Pests: Signs of pests like burrow holes or insect nests may compromise the health of trees and worsen after some time.

Cracks or splits: Large fissures on the barks may also be an indication of structural vulnerability and high possibility of tree failure.

If you see any of these symptoms, you should arrange for a tree health check to find out what needs to be done to save the tree or whether it needs to be removed.

Professional Tree Services to Maintain Tree Health

Although the assessments are vital for trees, professional services are vital for tree health issues. Here are some of the services provided by Jackson Tree Service to maintain and enhance your tree's health:

1. Tree Removal

There are times that a tree is already considered hazardous to remove because of diseases, termite infestations, or physical damage. In such circumstances, tree removal is required to get rid of dangers and protect your property. To remove a dead or damaged tree is very important to avoid the danger that it may cause to your home, family or neighboring trees. It also provides room for growing new healthy trees to be planted.

2. Local Tree Trimming Services

Some of the most important practices in tree maintenance involve trimming and pruning the trees in standard frequencies. Jackson Tree Service tree trimming can help residents prune their trees for new growth, for removal of hazardous branches and branches infected by diseases. Trimming also plays an important role in the forming of the tree, so it will develop correctly and look good.

3. Tree Care

Jackson tree services consist of fertilization, pest control, and disease treatment of your trees in order to enhance their health. These services are meant to enhance the health and lifespan of your tree. At Jackson Tree Service, we offer vital support in tree management; for maintenance purposes or in cases of tree health perils, our team can guide you to healthy trees.

When to Schedule a Tree Health Assessment

A tree health check is advised on an annual basis so that trees continue to stay healthy. However, you may need an assessment sooner if:

You find symptoms of sickness or rot.

The tree is showing signs that it has been struck by a storm.

Some of the issues are related to the tree’s shape or stability.

You are going to carry out extensive construction or landscaping around the tree’s root area.

[valeriehoward01]

Explore the comprehensive offerings for Alpharetta tree removal that prioritize safety and efficiency. Expert teams provide assessments to determine tree health and stability, ensuring that necessary removals are conducted with precision. This service helps in mitigating risks associated with hazardous trees and contributes to the overall aesthetics of the landscape.

[treesandall]

Ensure the health and longevity of your trees with Trees & All's expert cabling and supporting services. Our professional team uses advanced techniques to stabilize and strengthen your trees, preventing damage and promoting growth. Trust us for reliable tree care solutions in your area.

[wctimber]

Choosing the Best Residential Tree Removal Services in Floyd: A Homeowner’s Guide

Navigating residential tree removal Floyd decisions can be overwhelming. Trust WC Timber & Tree Service in Floyd for expert Hazardous Tree Evaluation and top-notch Residential Tree Removal services. Serving Calhoun, Georgia, our team provides safe and efficient Calhoun Georgia Tree Services to enhance your property. Let us guide you through the process with care and professionalism.

[toxicanonymity]

The Spread 2: The Window

THOMAS HEWITT X F!READER

WORD COUNT: 3.8k | IN THE SPREAD UNIVERSE SUMMARY: Tommy takes care of you, his captive. He wants you to be okay, but he also has primal needs. WARNINGS: I8+ Dubcon (captivity/Stockholm) unsafe P in V, mild injuries from prior restraints, fingering, cum eating, thumb sucking. See also masterlist. SIZE & HAND KINK - Tommy is much larger than reader, can lift/maneuver her. He is canonically 6'5" and thicc. A/N: divider by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Tommy kept you in the shed. It was a humbling, being at his mercy for your survival, but he attended to your basic needs better than you might have thought. He even unboarded a damaged window to let in some sunlight. From the inside of the shed, he nailed a sheet over the window frame so you could peek out without being seen. Through the old, dirty glass, you could see a tree stump, some logs, and in the distance, the garage where you had been laid out shackled to the table. 

—-

In the yard, Tommy chopped wood on the tree stump. It was something to behold – his hulking body bending and flexing with each swing of the ax. His sheer mass. Watching him work, a tingle grew between your legs, and as soon as you felt it, your face heated up. You tried not to watch, instead inspecting the sheet's frayed bottom edge. After the echoes of wood-splitting stopped, you peeked out to see if he was coming your way, but he wasn’t. 

He was removing his button-down shirt, a scene that stirred the heat of your core. His upper body was left in a stained white tee that stretched obscenely over his middle, his biceps, and his herculean back. 

He resumed splitting the firewood. His weight would jiggle with each impact of the blade. You found yourself hoping his shirt would ride up so you could see just a little more of him, but the shirt was too long. You weren’t even sure if he wore boxers or briefs. What did it matter to you? It was a curiosity, really. All of him was. Such a man, a big, burly man, and something so primal about him. 

The memory was hazy — your first physical experience with Tommy, when you were shackled to the big table. You had been delirious with fear and confusion. But you vividly recalled his head between your legs and the way he feasted on you, intruding his tongue, searching for more to drink. And you remembered how hard you came, even if you didn’t really want to. 

You could have tried not to think about this. But the alternative was thinking about whether and how you’d ever get out of there. The world outside the shack was terrifying-–the strange, faded world you and your friends had stumbled into. 

The property was full of hazardous scrap metal, broken glass, and barbed wire. You didn’t have any shoes. It crossed your mind to push out the window—another hazard in itself—-but the shed was a safe haven in the middle of an apocalyptic hellscape. If you could teleport home, sure, you would, but the thought of what lay outside the shed made you content to stay put for the time being. You had a feeling Tommy wouldn’t let you go anyway. He didn't say so. He didn't say anything at all. But it was the way he had yanked you back to him when you merely crawled toward the garage door. There was no way he would let you go, as long as he noticed you leaving. 

You told yourself the danger outside was the only thing keeping you there. You told yourself Tommy was a bad man, or at best, a dangerous man. It was certainly safer to have him on your side. It was safer to have his protection. You tried to ignore the throb between your legs when you watched him. But you couldn't stop yourself from conjuring the sensation of his massive hands wrangling you to your feet, hauling you over his shoulder, gently nestling you into the wheelbarrow, covering you with blankets. It made your chest flutter to think about. With fear or desire, you couldn't be sure. 

A while after Tommy finished his chore, the squeak of the wheelbarrow approached the shed. He unlocked it and pushed it open. The rays of light that poured in were full of dust. He froze for a moment, squinting at the sight of you in his shirt, huddled in the corner. You squinted back at the way his torso stretched his stained t-shirt. Finally, he nodded at you with a soft grunt and began to bring in the freshly chopped wood. 

Each piece of wood looked like a twig, the way his hand wrapped around it. As he stacked the logs, the sweet stench of his sweat began to reach you. You felt very aware of your lack of panties and the way every scent hung in the air in this small space – Tommy’s sweat, the wood, the char on his apron.  

When he was finished with the wood, Tommy lingered in the shed, wiping his hands off on his pants and looking at the stacks he made. 

“Good job, Tommy,” you told him and watched his face soften. 

The floor quivered under each step as he thudded toward you. He faced you and cautiously squatted, still looming over you even in his more compact state. You watched his eyes as they scanned your body. When his gaze lingered on your ankle, you realized you were idly caressing skin that had been rubbed raw from the metal cuff he shackled you with in the garage. 

You withdrew your hand from the injury and pushed the shirt tail down between your legs, covering yourself as you reflexively tugged your knees closer to your chest. He gave a dissatisfied frown – you couldn’t see much of his mouth through his partial mask, but it colored the rest of his face. He held his enormous hand near your ankle, then glanced up at you hesitantly. 

You nodded, and he grazed you so lightly you could barely feel it at first. Your foot looked so small and delicate, framed by Tommy’s hand. His thumb brushed over the discoloration. You winced, not in pain but Tommy huffed. His brows knitted together as he looked up to study your face. Only a moment after your eyes met, he looked down and shook his head at himself, then hesitantly brushed your ankle again, but not directly on the bruise.    

“It’s okay,” you offered. “You didn’t mean to.”

He slowly nodded, but didn’t meet your eyes again. He lowered his knees to the floor, kneeling at your feet to inspect the rest of your body. 

The other ankle wasn’t as bad, only a small mark. Then he looked at your arms. He took your hand in his and his eyes almost seemed to smile at the contrast of your delicate fingers in the cradle of his palm. He caressed his way up your wrist and arm, looking for damage. Your heart raced, and your insides swelled with need. No damage on that side.

He moved to the other side. He held your hand for a moment, but started at your shoulder this time. His fingers were feather-light on their way down your arm and made your hair stand on end. The exploratory caress drew a soft sigh out of you. Tommy glanced at your face when he heard it. You cleared your throat and looked away, throbbing as his fingers continued their path. His hand froze when he found a small but pronounced scrape on your wrist. He exhaled sharply through his nose, then his eyes weakened. 

“It’s okay,” you reassured him,adjusting the shirt tail between your legs with your free hand as you felt yourself getting wet.

He held your wrist and gently caressed it, then let you have your hand back. You put your hands together and rested them between your legs, holding down the shirt tail. His gaze followed your hands, and his eyes narrowed. He looked at you for a second then tugged at the shirttail (his shirttail) that was providing what little modesty you were allowed. 

Your heart skipped a beat and you moved your hands out of the way a little too fast, offering him access between your legs. He adjusted himself, and you ached at the thought of his cock. His breathing was shallow under the leather that covered his nose. He slowly, gently lifted the shirt, occasionally glancing at you for permission. He unbuttoned the bottom two buttons and you marveled at how those huge fingers made quick work of it. He pushed the shirt open at the bottom and out of the way. 

He scooted back without taking his eyes away, and bent forward to inspect you. A lock of curls fell in front of his eye and he brushed it back, securing it under the tie of his mask. His head was now between your legs, and he braced an elbow on the hay-covered floor.  His thumb brushed your inner thigh where it met your torso and you twitched in anticipation of his tongue lapping at your folds. How ravenous he was the day before. But Tommy took his time. He gently caressed your outer lips, one at a time. He lay his hand gently on your mound. He traced your inner thigh creases, eyes studious, concerned. 

Then he nudged your legs further apart to make room for himself and braced both elbows on the floor. He used his thumbs to gently spread your outer lips. You held your breath as he simply gazed into his feast. He grunted and his face flushed. You let out a tiny shiver of pleasure and his eyes lept to yours with concern. You felt your face heat up. 

He was worried he had hurt you there, too? You were moved by his apparent concern. You felt bad that he felt bad—for putting you in a sleeper hold, shackling you to a table, and having his way with you. Your face bristled when you thought of it that way.

Why did you feel sorry for him? You were just a toy he didn't want to break. 

Still, you reassured him, “I’m fine.” He studied your face and nodded, then sniffed.

You should have been relieved when Tommy didn’t force his mouth on you again, but your heart fell when he sat up on his knees. 

Tommy hesitantly approached your neck with one hand, and you nodded. He traced your vein. His thumb brushed over the front of your throat, and his fingers lingered where your neck met your shoulder. Then, his other hand came to your shirt, and he unbuttoned the rest of it. His fat fingers were so nimble. 

Your nipples sharpened as the last button came undone. He looked at your face again, and this time it felt like more of a warning than an ask. He nudged the fabric apart, over your breasts. He inhaled sharply at the sight of them, but he didn’t let his eyes linger for long until they were pouring over your torso looking for other signs of damage from his ravishing. He ran his fingers and palms over your chest, your tummy, your sides, making your flesh erupt with goosebumps as his eyes scanned each area. Then he inhaled slow and deep as his attention returned to your breasts. 

Without looking up, he cradled one breast. He closed his eyes for a moment as he felt the shape of it in his hand. He gently kneaded it. You bit your lip and closed your eyes. Then you felt his hot breath on your tit. You opened your eyes to see his pupils blown out under heavy eyelids as his lips approached. He took your nipple into his mouth and let his eyes close again as he tongued, then sucked it. He seemed to suck as much of your breast into his mouth as he could, grunting softly, before focusing back on your nipple, and suckling at it. 

The mask made it hard to breathe through his nose, so he would break the seal of his mouth every couple of seconds before latching on again. He couldn’t seem to get enough, but his mouth was gentle. The pleasure zapped through your chest, down your torso to the floor, where you knew you were making a mess by now. He sucked, and tongued, and moaned, “Mm,” at a pitch that told you his voice must be sexy if he ever spoke. “Mmm,” he moaned into your breast again,and then a moan slipped out of you. 

When he opened his eyes, he glanced up at you before releasing your tit. His mouth hung slightly open. He adjusted himself and inhaled a big chest full of air. Your thighs opened slightly, and it didn’t go unnoticed. He palmed himself over his pants and when he took his hand away, your breath hitched at the thick, curved shape sitting on his enormous thigh. 

—--

Tommy looked around for a moment, seeming to consider the situation, which was that your legs were spread with him between them. 

He reached between your thighs and gently caressed your folds with the backs of two fingers.. The quietest growl escaped his chest. He rubbed himself once over his pants, then he straddled your leg and approached your cunt palm-up. His thick, dark eyelashes fluttered as he looked down at his hand engulfing your pussy. His four fingers barely fit between your thighs. A finger prodded ever so slightly at your entrance, and your hole fluttered needily, making him grunt. You tensed as he wriggled his ring finger inside to the first knuckle. How did you feel so full already? He braced one hand on the wall behind you, and slid his digit further into you with a barely audible gasp. He held his finger there for a moment, enveloped in your snug, throbbing warmth,with you melting under his touch, fully relaxing back against the wall.  

Tommy loomed over you on his knees. As he fucked you with his finger, your half-lidded eyes were fixed on the massive erection on his thigh. He prodded your hole with another finger and his hips pushed forward as he tried to wedge it inside with the other. You gasped as the second finger stretched you wide. You whimpered and he withdrew the second digit. He didn’t have to, but it wasn’t what you really wanted anyway.

You found your hand reaching for his thigh. And at first contact, your chest opened up, flooding you with desire. You traced the hard shape in his pants, and the stiff warmth under your palm made you twitch and swoon. It made you needy and sleepy. He moaned, then shuddered and slid his wet fingers out of your cunt. 

He glanced behind himself at the door, then unbuttoned  his pants and pulled down his underwear. 

With you slumped down against the wall, and Tommy on his knees, his massive cock was almost at eye level and you couldn’t look away from it. He held it in a loose fist, and looked you over. He tilted his head, then let go of his cock, letting it bob heavily as he leaned forward and scooped you up with his hands under your arms.  He brought you into straddling his folded knees. His cock brushed your folds as his arm wrapped around you, and he held you close. He smelled like fire and man. 

He clumsily tried to pull you down without taking care to make sure it was lined up just right. 

“Wait,” you whispered. “Just a second,” and you made a move to try to help him find the right place. 

But he grumbled and held you tighter. He reached under you with one hand, still holding you with the other. He got his tip into place, then with his massive arm around you, he forced you down on his cock, dividing your walls which were still a little tender from the first time. He groaned as he bottomed out as deep as he could be. You whimpered with the burn and were grateful for the prelude – his painstakingly light touch and feral suckling had made you so wet.

Your body adapted, and soon, the overwhelming feeling was one of being occupied, your insides perfectly rearranged to fit him just right. He held your hips, dwarfing your torso with his massive hands. He held you all the way on his cock, his chest expanding with deep breaths. His cock twitched as your walls slowly welcomed his monstrous girth. 

After holding you impaled on his cock for a minute, you briefly spasmed around it. He took a deep breath through his mouth, letting it out as a growl. He began to move you up and down on his shaft, using his hands. It felt like you were split in two. He moved you faster and faster and you whimpered as he bounced you like a rag doll on his massive cock, making your gut dizzy with pleasure the faster he went. You held on tight, gripping his tight t-shirt, then putting your hands around his neck, nestled under his dampening hair, against the cool sweat of his skin. 

He got up on his knees and braced a hand against the wall behind you, holding you steady with his other arm. You held on tighter. He thrust into you as he held you steady. He used you as a sleeve for his pleasure. As his massive length pummeled into you, he grunted and sighed. His muffled, feral sounds touched something deep in your core and lit it on fire. The sweat of his shirt wafted into your nostrils. His hair grazed your head as he pounded you. 

He stopped, fully seated within your warmth, and nudged his shirt off your shoulders so you were totally nude. Then he began moving you slower, up and down his length. You could feel each vein of his cock as it dragged heavily, pushing itself through your soft, snug channel with each stroke. Your hips moved, grinding you against the softness of his pelvic area. You wedged your hand between the two of you and he flinched at the feeling of your knuckles digging into his belly. He snatched your hand and moved it. 

His grip became bruising as he took back control. He moved you at a jackhammer pace and your chest opened up with butterflies as you got closer and closer. He grunted and snarled and you hung onto the edge of bliss until you couldn’t, and you fully unraveled around his cock, whimpering and moaning with each contraction. He fucked you through it until you finally whimpered, “Tommy.” He growled and held you still. He tilted his head at you. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the strong musk, the sweat, the char, the wood, as your body drew itself back together. 

With you still on his cock, Tommy bent forward and laid you down on the hay-covered floor. It scratched your back, but your body was buzzing so warmly you didn’t mind.  

—

He slowly withdrew his length, then he held it in his hand, and you marveled at it-–thick, veiny, dripping. Wild, dark hair wet with a faintly white blend of his precum and you.

He hadn’t cum yet. You wanted him to. You wanted so badly to see him cum. You could smell it, practically taste it.

He braced one hand on his knee and with a barely audible groan, he stood up, pants still undone. You felt a sense of loss as he moved away.  

Tommy glanced toward the window, then turned away from you. He squeezed his cock and pulled his underwear up over it. 

“No,” you protested. “No, you don’t have to—come back,” you pleaded. “It’s okay.” You got up on your knees. He watched you skeptically, chest heaving. You wondered if he hadn’t cum in front of anyone before. “I would like to,” you started, then cleared your throat. “Please put it in my mouth, I’d really like that.”

He looked at you, frozen.

“Please,” you repeated, then wet your lips and stared at his cock. 

He slowly made his way back to you, and you opened your mouth. “I can–” you offered, but he didn’t let you suck it. He brought the tip to your lips, but kept his fist around his length, pumping it slowly. It squelched obscenely with each stroke. 

When precum beaded at his tip, your tongue darted out to collect it. He growled, and his free hand seized your jaw, holding your mouth still and open as he continued pumping his cock. Then, when he could hang on no longer, he pointed it into your mouth. He came with a rumble in his chest and a low groan from his throat. The first, thick rope hit the roof of your mouth. The next went directly to your throat. And by the sixth ribbon or so, it was dribbling onto your tongue, thick, salty, and heady. You were salivating and could hardly wait to swallow. 

He dropped his tip onto your tongue and it sat there heavily for a moment while he breathed. You dared to wrap your lips around it until he quickly backed up, taking it away, with a thick string of drool connecting you for a moment. You swallowed and wiped your mouth with the back of your wrist. His face was pink as he composed himself and stuffed it back in his pants. 

You sat back on the floor, and he did a double take. He knelt down again and laid his hand on your mound. He scanned your body like he had hurt you all over again.  

“Tommy, I’m fine,” you assured him. “I promise, I’m good.” He squinted at you. “That felt good,” you repeated, nodding, face burning. “Good, Tommy,” you whispered.  

He nodded back hesitantly. 

He left and didn’t lock the door. While he was gone, you put his shirt back on, didn’t button it, but wrapped it around you. He returned with a few more blankets. He picked you up and laid one down under you. He folded one under your head, and used the last one to cover you.  

As he finished tucking you in, a drop of sweat fell from his hair onto your neck. He brushed it off with his thumb. And as he began to take his hand away, you reached for it. You brought his hand to your mouth and wrapped your lips around his thumb. Your tongue collected the salty drop of perspiration. And as you swallowed it, you sucked his thumb more into your mouth. As you gently sucked his massive thumb, your eyes closed, and when you opened them again, he was looking at you softly. You released his thumb, and he gently cradled your jaw in his hand. Then he slid his fingers down to your neck. He could have squeezed or snapped the life out of you with no effort at all, but you knew he wouldn't. All he did was admire you, softly stroking your delicate skin for a moment. Then, when he took his hand off your neck, he brushed his thumb down your chin. 

He braced his hands on his hefty thighs and stood up. He adjusted his mask as he slowly left the shed. Once he was outside, you heard the padlock click into place, and then the squeak of his wheelbarrow fading into the distance.

Thank you for reading!

Your engagement helps a lot in motivating me and letting me know what you enjoyed so you might see more of it.

[devildomwriter]

Baby, It’s Cold Outside | Solomon x Reader

.8K Words | GN! Reader | CW: Slightly Suggestive

‘He cannot possibly fuck this up.’ You thought nervously as you watched Solomon roasting a marshmallow over the fire. ‘It can’t be possible…’

Solomon hummed a Christmas song to himself as he happily roasted a marshmallow over the fire he’d proclaimed would be just for you.

Beads of sweat dripped down your temple and not from the giant fire he’d built.

You and Solomon were on a mission for the Sorcerer’s Society which reluctantly let him back in, and you’d found yourselves camping in the middle of a supposedly haunted forest in the middle of December.

You looked at the pine trees with traces of snow coating the branches as it began to fall. You looked back at the cloth tents with a concerned frown. You and Solomon had both magically reinforced the tent to withstand the weight of the snow and to hold in sufficient warmth.

Camping had never gone well for you though, at least not any that were magic-related so you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous, especially without nearby medical assistance for Solomon’s disastrous food.

You looked back at the warm marshmallow, not daring to pry your eyes away from it as for all you know he might throw some habanero sauce on it to liven things up.

Solomon noticed your concerned expression and chuckled, “Don’t worry my precious apprentice, I won’t burn it.”

You nodded, even though that was not at all your main concern right now.

A wind blew through the trees and you shivered, tucking your hands into your coat sleeves to keep them as warm as possible. Solomon frowned upon seeing this and with a snap of his fingers the fire became warmer. At the same time, the marshmallow changed colors and you swallowed a knot in your throat as he handed it to you happily.

You dreaded the consequences of eating it but at the same time dreaded the consequences of not eating it—a very sad sorcerer.

You smiled and stuffed it in your mouth, it was weirdly hot and more chewy than a marshmallow should be. But surprisingly you didn’t die, you didn’t even get a stomach ache. You thought you’d cry tears of joy and Solomon laughed, amused.

“___, it’s getting colder and this fire might be a safety hazard…” he started looking at all the highly flammable trees around you. “So….why don’t we head into our tent now.” He grinned and you nodded and took the Hershey bars and gramcrackers into the tent.

As soon as Solomon put out the fire the change in temperature was instant so you dove into the blankets.

You looked at your surroundings in confusion.

“Where did the sleeping bags go…?” You asked Solomon as he ducked into the tent behind you and zipped it shut.

He tilted his head innocently. “Well, it’s very cold outside. They say that skin-to-skin contact is the best way to stay warm and we can’t very well do that in separate sleeping bags,” he explained. He smiled proudly and gestured to the mattress you sat on. “So I improved it. A premium quality mattress and some warm weighted blankets with all the pillows you could need. Great isn’t it?”

You shook your head in exasperation and laughed a the sorcerer who gave you a confused frown.

“Is something the matter?” He questioned and you shook your head again.

“Not at all. It’s very like you to want to be as close to your…apprentice as possible,” you stressed the word apprentice as you gave him a playful look and a sly grin crossed his face.

He removed his cape and shoes and joined you on the mattress, inching closer to you. “Apprentice?” He asked, “Is that all you are to me?”

You smiled, “You tell me…master Solomon.”

He blushed and chuckled as he leaned in to press his lips against yours. As you parted he leaned over you and switched the dial on the handheld radio.

A familiar holiday song began to play over it ‘Baby it’s cold outside.’

Solomon chuckled and nodded, “Yes, I believe the man is right. It is rather cold suddenly, isn’t it? So why don’t we stay in here in each other’s arms for a while, hm?”

You laughed and pecked his cheek. You wrapped your arms around his neck and wondered aloud, “It did get suddenly cold, didn’t it…you wouldn’t happen to have made it colder so I’ll stay in here with you…did you now?”

He tightened his grip around you and gave you a sweet smile. “Who me? Why I’d never…”

You laughed at his farce and hugged him tightly, “Fine. I’ll stay in here with you,” you decided and he grinned.

“So…” you began as you gave him a knowing look, “what was that again about skin-to-skin contact?”

He arched one brow excitedly as you continued. “Did they ever say how much skin contact?”

He shook his head and rolled you onto your side, “I don’t believe they did,” he said as he snaked a hand beneath your shirt, “Why don’t we find out?”

[collapsedsquid]

Her life was completely upended in early November of 2018, amid one of the driest autumns on record in the Sierra Nevada, when the deadly Camp Fire swept into her hometown of Paradise, Calif., killing 85 people and destroying nearly 19,000 structures — the most expensive climate-related disaster in the world that year. "There are positives," she says. "My family got out alive." But Foudray's family home, a two-bedroom two-bath mobile, was a total loss. Five years later, she's still mostly living in an RV on her burned-out lot, hoping to get a new home within the next year.

[...] In the weeks and months immediately after the Camp Fire, survivors were anxious to get home. They soon became frustrated, angry about the slow pace of even just removing the fire debris. Then as the months dragged on, the scope of what was ahead began to settle in. It took nine months just to remove all the hazardous toxins and debris piles before the first homes could be rebuilt. Paradise's recovery had a lot stacked against it from the beginning due to its largely elderly and low-income population. Many were forced to leave in search of affordable housing.

[...] Originally built out into dense forests, Paradise today is a changed land. One million trees have been removed; the coastal range to the west and Sawmill Peak and the Sierra foothills to the east are now visible. Roads are being newly paved or reconfigured and blocked by flaggers. Utility crews are digging trenches and burying all the new power lines underground. And main thoroughfares are clogged with construction traffic. All the new homes have to meet tougher wildfire codes, including a new local ordinance that bans any porches or other fixtures built from combustible materials in the immediate perimeter of houses.

[...] This costs a lot of money. And it turns out a lot of the aid coming into disaster areas — like the millions pouring into Lahaina right now — tends to go to rebuilding infrastructure, not individual private homes. "We're not good at this in our country," says Ed Mayer, executive director of the Housing Authority for Butte County, which includes Paradise. "Our history of disasters, and no fault of their own, FEMA sort of has a one size fits all approach." The U.S. government typically comes in and tries to help people find temporary housing quickly while disaster victims figure out how to rebuild. But Mayer says that doesn't work in states like California and Hawaii where there has been a worsening affordable housing crisis for years. "Our wish at the very outset of this disaster was, hey, we want some soap bubble housing," Mayer says. "And when I say soap bubble housing, we want some housing we can erect tomorrow."

Still, five years later, Mayer's office is celebrating some successes. There are some 3,000 affordable housing units now in development in the county, thanks in large part to housing officials leveraging aid and various grants. Most are not in Paradise, however, and officials say it's probably a fraction of what's actually needed. In the days after the fire, an estimated 35,000 displaced people flooded into nearby cities like Chico.

[chrisstumps05]

Something almost bad Happened

[rebeccathenaturalist]

So on the surface this looks like a good thing. After all, we need mature and old-growth forests as they're havens for species dependent on that habitat type, and they are also exceptionally good carbon sinks compared to younger, less complex forests. (A big, old tree will still absorb and hold more carbon than a new, quick-growing one, and in fact for the first twenty or so years of its life a tree is actually carbon positive, releasing more than it absorbs.)

However, timber industries are trying to paint mature forests as fire hazards that need to be thinned out due to an abundance of plant life. They also tend to oppose leaving snags and nurse logs in the forest as "fuel", because they'd rather salvage what lumber they can from a freshly dead tree. So of course they're trying to push for cutting down trees as the solution to climate change's threat to mature forests.

Large, old trees are generally better adapted to surviving a fire simply by sheer size. Some have other adaptations, such as deeply grooved bark that can create relatively cooler pockets of air around the tree to help it survive, and the branches of older, taller trees of some species are higher up the trunk, away from lower-burning fires. And those old trees that survive are often important for helping to restore the forest ecosystem afterward, from providing seeds for new trees to offering wildlife safe haven and food.

When timber companies come in and log a forest, even if they don't take all the trees, they leave behind all the branches and twigs and just take the trunks. This creates a buildup of fine fuels that burn very quickly (think the twigs and paper you use to start a campfire), while removing coarse fuels that take longer to catch fire. In fact, an area that is subjected to salvage logging after a fire is much more likely to burn again within a few years due to all the fine fuels left behind by salvage logging.

Another factor is that not all forests are the same, even at similar ages. Here in the Pacific Northwest, as one example, the forests east of the Cascades live in drier conditions with slower plant growth, and low-level wildfires that can clean out ladder fuels before they pile up too high are more common. In those locations prescribed burns make sense.

However, the fire ecology of forests on the west side is less understood; because lightning storms are less common and the climate is wetter, fires just don't happen as often. And west-side forests are simply more productive, with denser vegetation that grows back quickly after even large fires like 2017's Eagle Creek Fire in the Columbia River Gorge. Historically speaking, west-side forests get fewer, but larger, fires. So the prescribed burns and other strategies employed for east-side forests aren't necessarily a good fit.

Finally, mature forests are much more biodiverse, and support many more species than a monocultural tree plantation. As climate change continues to affect the planet, mature forests and other complex ecosystems are going to become increasingly crucial to protecting numerous species, to include those dependent only on those ecosystem types. Thinning may seem like a great idea at first, but even if it isn't as destructive as clearcutting it will still damage a forest in ways that will take years to restore.

We really need to be wary of the narrative that thinning is the only way to curb climate change's effects on mature forests. It's a more complex situation than that, and we need to prioritize preserving these increasingly rare places as much as possible.

[strangelittlestories]

If you are to undertake this journey into the Fitful Lands, where the Dream encroaches onto this world, then beware the Subego Tree.

It is a pernicious creature, for it has not distinct shape or bark or pattern of leaf. It mimics whatever forest or glade it grows in. You can tell it from the others for it will offer the greatest shade, hold the most raindrops from your back, promise you the sweetest shelter.

You must learn to read these signs if you will travel close to the realm of Hypnos. That which has crawled from those territories will feel as real as anything Waking, for a party of your mind will always recognise it as familiar. As *known*.

This is the trick, you must learn to loosen your perceptions and listen when dreamlings whisper too loud that they are true.

You might also know the Tree by the dreams you have when you rest beneath it. But, of course, by then it will be too late. When you sleep under its boughs, your subconscious will spin stories that are ... not quite prophecies. They are paths you can walk. Journeys you could take. The shadow you could cast if only you grew into your best self.

You will wake feeling full of potential and possibility.

This is a tragic lie, for this is exactly what the Subego steals from you.

It plants its seeds like burrs in your mind. And as they begin to spread their psychic roots, they will reach out through probability for the direction with the most energy.

It is not just a cognito-hazard. It is a farivore. A devourer of destiny.

Left to its own devices, it will spread through the whole landscape of your psyche, replacing your strand in the web of fate with a bright green shoot.

You will find yourself thinking hubristic thoughts. You will make choices that sow narrative. You will be twisted into a lesson.

Somehow, your story will end with you walking alone into a quiet natural place. And whether it is a punishment, an escape or an ascension, you will become a tree.

And then, someday, another poor traveller will sleep beneath your branches.

If you catch this infection in time, however, there is a cure. Though it barely deserves the name.

You see, the seed is too aggressive and too tenacious. Wound all around the core of you, and the core of the you-that-will-be, if you tear it out then it will extend its thorns and rip your mind to shreds.

So the treatment is this: surgical psychic removal of the entire ego.

Luckily, the mind is complex and the mind is malleable. The sense of inner self the Tree has planted its seed in is an illusion. A composite of soul and needs and memory; a hodgepodge of living burning data stored in electricity, spirit and meat-chemistry.

But the seed believes this illusion. It relies on it.

So when you remove it, the seed will not even notice it has lost its prey.

Then all that's left is the harrowing work of rebuilding your identity, feeling like a stranger in the jagged cavern of body and soul that remains. Wondering if your destiny even still belongs to you.

Oh, and of course, you should probably also kill whatever grows out of the seed that is eating your old ego.

[mittch22]

Prison in the world of Cars

So Im currently in the process of writing chapter 8 of Behind Blue Eyes and said chapters' content has got me thinking about the various minutiae of prison systems within this universe. Here is my take on it.

Speed restrictors - In order to prevent any kind of escape attempt, speed restrictors would be fitted to inmates with a high flight risk to prevent any speed being reached above about thirty miles per hour. In some cases, it could be deemed necessary to decrease speed potential even further for the most dangerous offenders. But the use of these devices comes with a significant quantity of government regulation to prevent their misuse. The fitting of restrictors can cause engine issues in the long run and shouldn't be used without prior approval from a court.

Parking boots - Wheel cuffs. I needn't say much more than that. No moving for you! They can be used on both front wheels, both back wheels or all four wheels depending on requirement. But one or three parking boots should never be utilised as this can cause serious damage to the detainee if they were to try and drive.

Extension restraints - For particulary strong and violent offenders, axle extension restraints can be applied. Parking boots are the go-to for prisoner transport, which are heavy and cumbersome. But for strong vehicles who want to get a few punches in, the use of parking boots can be particularly hazardous to police officers. So these restraints can be utilised to prevent any damage to other vehicles or property that could be caused by the detainee.

Deep tread tyres - It would be damaging to a vehicle to force them to roll around on tyres with deliberately low pressure. So to increase drag for inmates, a thicker tyre tread is used. This has the added bonus of reducing the amount of replacements required during sentence duration, thus cutting down on costs. Although the tyres used increase the vehicles ability to grip into the floor and push or pull, the officers that respond to any issues with the prisoners within their care are usually able to subue them rapidly and effectively. Prison tyres are ugly and not comfortable to drive on.

Chemically engineered paint - With technological advancements and genius chemical engineering, the paint used on inmates is very specific and can be picked up from quite a distance away with the use of police scanners. It holds its own unique chemical formula that lights up like a christmas tree when scanned with the appropriate digital equipment. The colour is also utilised as a tell-tale sign as it is a highly distinctive and vibrant orange; the only orange paint of its kind. This paint can only be purchased for prisons, by prisons. To be in possession of this paint without the appropriate licensing carries both a hefty fine and a prison sentence. So if an unlicensed vehicle is caught with it, they will very quickly be wearing it. The chemical does, however, hold the unfortunate capacity to seep into and embed itself into the surface of metal through layers of paint, meaning that, even if a vehicle is released and repainted (repainted on the offenders dime might I add), they will still be picked up on police scanners. This leads them to be regularly stopped and questioned by police officers. This can be incredibly irritating to both parties, however it does allow officers to keep an eye on offenders that are on probation. Vehicles that are permitted to be external to the prison whilst on remand are sprayed with just the traceable chemical component of the paint, which is invisible to the naked eye. A small stencil is utilised in the form of the sigil of the police force that made the arrest. This makes them traceable to police, but prevents civilians from seeing that said vehicle could be facing criminal charges. For those that can afford the expensive procedure, this chemical is removeable by removing all layers of paint and primer and grinding down the surface layer of the bare metal. This can be painful, so a general anaesthetic is provided.

Fuel quantity control - As previously displayed in the first cars movie, fuel quantity is important when you want to try and escape from the cruel clutches of community service. The same principal can apply in prisons. Fuel intake is heavily regulated and no inmate is usually permitted any more than 1/8 to 1/6 of a tank at any time. There are exceptions to this in regards to specific jobs that inmates perform as some will require larger quantities to perform their duties. Which is usually met with seething envy.

GPS locators - This method is even more heavily restricted than the use of speed restrictors as it violates multiple data protection laws and vehicle rights legislation. However, in the correct circumstances, it can be very useful. This is only ever used for vehicles that are both incredibly dangerous and have a high flight risk.

Remote engine inhibition - A vehicles engine can be shut down at the push of a button after modifications to the programming of the ECU have been made. This method of inmate control is incredibly new and still in its theoretical stages and thus it is still being debated whether or not it is viable and vehmane. Considering its highly intrusive nature and possibly damaging consequences to both the escapee and the general public, if it were ever to pass into legislation, its useage would be very rare indeed.

Medical care - Each vehicle within the prison system must have a three monthly check up with a desigated mechanic and all new inmates must be checked once a week for the duration of three months. Considering high depression rates within prison systems, a lot of vehicles, especially first time offenders, will stop consuming oil due to stress. This can lead to sickness and fever/overheating, which causes severe issues in the long run.

Not all of the above restraint/tracking methods will be used in all cases as it will depend highly on sentencing requirements for specific individuals and the type of prison that they end up in.

I might update this at a later date if I think of anything else to add. But so far, this is all I've got.

In a nutshell, its INSANELY difficult for any vehicle to escape a prison. So Miles Axelrod is pretty fucked.

[treesandall]

Ensure the health and safety of your trees with our expert removal of dead and decaying branches. At Trees ＆ All, we specialize in precise and efficient branch removal to prevent potential hazards and promote vigorous growth. Our skilled team uses advanced techniques to carefully prune away compromised branches, enhancing the overall aesthetics and longevity of your trees. Trust us to keep your landscape safe and beautiful.

[amybizarre]

🎄𝓐𝓭𝓿𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓝𝓻. 𝓣𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽𝔂✨🎄

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓽: Setting Up The Tree

𝓐𝓵𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓮: RF, Gray, Original, Royal

𝓣𝔂𝓹𝓮: Short Story (No warnings)

𝓞𝓹𝓮𝓷 𝓽𝓸𝓭𝓪𝔂'𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻!

It was one of your favorite times of the Christmas season: Tree decorating time! A few Wallies have joined you, also eager to set up the tree with you. Namely Royall, RF, Original and Gray.

Original was currently busy admiring the different ornaments for the tree, especially the red ones enchanted him. Probably because they looked a little bit like apples.

Gray curiously eyed the ornaments as well. But then he saw the box with the star for the top and his pupils widened excitedly. He sat down and pulled the box into his lap. Removing the lid, Gray took his time to admire the three different tree toppers you owned.

He brushed his fingertips across them very gently, following the swirls of colors on them.

You made a mental note to let him choose one and put it onto the tree.

Meanwhile, Royal had discovered your LED-candles, that were all wired together and could easily be clipped to the branches.

"What strange candles...", he mumbled, examining the decoration and tapping his chin, "They're not made of wax at all... And why are they all tied together?"

You chuckled and grabbed one end of the candle-chain. "You remember when I told you about electricity?"

"The little lightnings that run through the copper wires in most of your machines? Yes."

"Well, these candles need it too. And so that we don't have to supply each candle by itself, they're connected to one another." You explained, following the wiring between the individual candles with your pointer finger.

Royal's eyes lit up with understanding. "I see. But why not use real candles?"

"To reduce the fire hazard." You said simply. You then showed him how to clip the candles onto the branches and the both of you got busy applying all of them all around the tree.

Original had adorned the lower branches with the other ornaments in the meantime. To reach the higher branches, he needed help though.

He gently tugged on your sleeve, quietly asking for ups. With a soft smile you complied, picking the small puppet up and resting him on your hip.

Royal chuckled and held the boxes with ornaments for you two. Together, you decorated the rest of the tree. While doing so, you couldn't help but wonder what RF was doing. He'd been so quiet all the time.

That's when you discovered he had - much like a cat - started a hopeless fight with the tinsel. He was cowering on the carpet, covered in the rustling stuff all over. You snorted. Seems like he just wanted to open the packet and spread the tinsel across the branches of the tree, but ultimately got overpowered by his leftover cat instincts.

And now he was quietly cussing and fighting his battle with the tinsel without victory in sight.

Feeling mischievous, you shifted Original, holding him with one arm only. With your free hand you fished your phone out of your pocket and snapped a single picture of RF without him noticing. You'd send it to him later.

For now it was time to finish to tree.

Original wanted to be let down, so you set him back down and turn to Gray.

"Gray sweetie, do you want to put the star on top?", you asked him.

He nodded quickly. "Yes please! I already picked one!"

Gray held up the star he had chosen. You nodded approvingly and helped him climb onto your shoulders. You did your best to support him and help him reach the top of the tree.

With additional help of Royal he managed just fine.

The tree was done!

[plantanarchy]

man I just learned that a local town was going to remove their hundreds of bradford pear trees and replace them but they had several angry complaints from people who love them:'))) my friends.... they are escaping into every wild area around and they smell like ass and the mature trees are now of an age when any storm or high wind makes them a hazard in parking lots

[curlsabroad]

For those who do not want what Project 2025 is selling, I am trying to brainstorm a list of to-dos:

Stockpile hormonal therapies and birth control.

Decide if you want to risk having kids.

Make a will.

Make sure you have legal documentation that shows you have a right to make medical decisions for your same sex partners, adopted kids, etc.

Try to create a physical mailing list of queer folk you know, as in addresses. Make sure you write it down in an address book and make sure it is circumspect.

Remove online information that could be used against you if laws become more restrictive, such as anything about planning an abortion.

If you have art that is "objectionable," have a plan for storage that protects a physical copy of it.

Visit the national parks.

Go to the coastline and view it, remember it.

Look into food safety practices.

Consider doing some homesteading projects like quail or chickens, vegetable and herb garden, safe canning.

Try to find a co-op or small farm that you can buy into and buy local.

Buy a mask that can filter out small particulates. Look for ones that can stand up to serious air pollution.

If you are considering a divorce, consider faster. You may only have a few months to be able to get a no-fault divorce.

Make sure you have access to your own private accounts with money. Maybe have a stash of cash somewhere.

If you are in an abusive relationship, please consider using the resources that currently exist to help you.

Get into filtered water.

Swim in the lakes and go fishing.

Go your public institutions.

Try to make any major purchases of goods sourced from China before January to avoid tariffs.

Get on your local committees.

Visit your library.

Save analog media like CDs and such.

Apply for all the grants and resources you can, right now.

If you are on the Affordable Act insurance, look into any jobs or assistance that could get you reasonable private healthcare.

Cut back on unnecessary purchases and budget wisely.

Look into homeschooling resources that are not overly religious.

Consider buying banned books and storing them in a private location.

Plant as many native trees and plants as you can, wherever you can.

Invest some money in the stock market.

Research your local laws.

Research how to protest safely and don't leave said research on your phone.

Don't take your phone to a protest. Buy a burner or get an old Nokia.

Learn how to fix things in your home.

Join a union or start a union.

Look into jobs that would enable you to move abroad.

Finish any degrees as soon as possible.

Research international colleges.

Prepare yourself for how to deal with hate-crimes and aggression.

Take self defense classes.

Get gun safety training.

Take first aid courses.

Have a stockpile of medicine, food, and water in case of hazardous weather.

Weather-proof your home.

Plan for high temperatures. PLAN FOR DROUGHTS. Plan for wildfires. Plan for smog.

Learn techniques used in dry climates to maximize water retention in soil.