#hazardous tree removal

[chrisstumps05]

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

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

I hope everyone setting off illegal fireworks loses a finger because of them.

4th of July is, by and far, the holiday I hate the most.

[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.

[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.

[chrisstumps05]

Something almost bad Happened

[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.

[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

[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.

[flippyspoon]

Splinter

Note: Lil SNW Spirk ficlet! Thanks for the prompt, @introvertia (may well write more of those prompts- the night is young!)

Dabria was a woodsy sort of planet. Having grown up in a desert, Spock enjoyed an environment featuring new species of trees and Jim, having grown up amongst corn fields, was equally enamored.

Jim had found himself just as enamored with watching Spock’s reactions to things on missions with the Enterprise. People called him impassive, but if one watched closely, they could observe the tapestry of microexpressions on display. An away mission just as intriguing to Jim Kirk, and one that occasionally distracted him from the actual mission.

This time, he found Spock frowning, his tricorder hanging from his shoulder as he narrowed his eyes. His attention was not on the trees but on his own finger.

“Problem, Mr. Spock?” Jim smiled at him in the way that he knew made Spock cast him a longer look than was necessary.

“I have acquired a splinter,” Spock said. “It is proving difficult to extract.”

They stood beneath the canopy of redwood trees so tall they could not see where the tops ended. But for now, their eyes were only on each other.

“Oh, no problem,” Kirk said, holding out his hand. “Let me take a look.”

Spock held his splintered finger close to his chest rather comically, casting a wary eyebrow at Kirk. 

“Unless you are carrying a needle or a pair of tweezers,” Spock said, “I do not see that you are anymore adept than I am at removing it.”

“Shows what you know,” Jim said haughtily. “I was quite literally raised in a barn. Hay bales and unfinished wood. I have a graduate degree in splinter removal. Give it here.”

Spock took a deep breath as if embarking on a mission both grave and hazardous and proffered his hand.

Jim stepped a little closer and gently took Spock’s hand.

Jim’s heart rate accelerated beyond the bounds of good health, he thought. He was not unaware that Spock’s breath was short and heard him audibly swallow.

The splinter was a tiny dark red spine embedded in the pad of Spock’s left ring finger.

Jim knew about Vulcan hand sensitivity. Or rather, he’d heard something about it from Uhura after he’d gone and shaken Spock’s hand on first meeting him.

So he was careful, his touches soft as he squeezed the skin, moving the spine to the surface. It did not seem to be helping Spock, who took a little step back and then forward even closer to Kirk.

“I…apologize,” Kirk murmured, focussed on his task, “if this is wreaking havoc with your telepa-”

“Unnecessary,” Spock said, his voice wavering.

Jim glanced up at him, just inches away. Spock’s eyes were dilated, his lips parted.

Jim was woozy. He licked his lips and frowned down at their hands. His own hands seemed clumsy and blunt next to Spock’s long fingers.

Briefly, he flashed on an image of those hands touching him, tracing a line down his throat, down his chest…

No, no. Inappropriate, surely. The image shifted. Those fingers touching his lips, his tongue…

Strange. That little fantasy had almost seemed to come from outside of him.

They were on a mission for Christ’s sake.

Please don’t fuck my, boss, Jimmy, Sam had said sternly after seeing the way Jim looked at Spock that morning in the mess.

Jim wondered if the Vulcan hand sensitivity was contagious. He felt a faint tingling in his wrists. His teeth dug hard into his lip as he edged the spine out with the tip of his thumb nail.

“You have very nice hands,” he blurted out. “I dunno. They’re…elegant.”

“They are ordinary hands,” Spock insisted.

“Don’t think so,” Jim muttered, just as the splinter stuck out enough that he could grab it and drop it on the ground. “There we are.”

Yet, for a moment, he continued to hold Spock’s hand in his, staring up at him.

Jim looked in Spock’s eyes and that proved to be a mistake. They contained galaxies, he was sure. He would lose his way. Or find it?

He forgot what planet he was on for a moment.

Spock inhaled abruptly and snatched his hand back, the moment breaking.

“D-did you see…something?” Jim said. “Not that you-”

“I do not deliberately see into anyone’s mind upon physical contact,” Spock said, firmly. He turned on his heel, walking back down the trail.

Jim nodded and just as quickly frowned, trailing after him. “Hang on. You said deliberately. Did you…accidentally just see something, Mr. Spock?”

“We are lagging behind the others, Lieutenant,” Spock said, and Jim was certain he was smiling. Just barely. Just enough that only someone like him who was really looking would notice.

“Spock?”

“Come along, Lieutenant.”

[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.

[voraciousvore]

Giganterra (Chapter 2)

Prologue | Previous (1) | Next (3)

Word Count: 2.2k

------ Chapter 2: A Tiny New World ------

King Richard decided that his protectorate, the human kingdom of Minimaterra, was well overdue for another round of tribute to their giant overlords. He wanted some new toys to play with, and as an esteemed and illustrious father of high station, he wished to provide for his spoiled daughter as well. He sent his trusted advisor, Leon Griffin, as well as one of his most competent knights, Sir Martin Maneater, along with his squire, Joey, to convey his royal proclamation. 

He normally requested five maidens at a time, which was plenty to sate his appetites until he grew bored of them, so he simply tacked on two extra men for Princess Bianca. He didn’t consider this request an excessive burden for the humans. The men tasked with delivering the message saddled up their horses and headed out, bringing with them parcels of supplies for their outpost in human territory. Martin kept his armor to a minimum, since the risk of violence was low. 

The trip started out uneventful as the three men crossed through giant territory on horseback. Leon and Sir Maneater, as longtime royal servants, knew each other reasonably well and had traveled to the human kingdom in the past, so this excursion was routine for them. Joey, on the other hand, was still a young recruit and had never seen a real live human before. Unless on royal business, giants were generally forbidden by order of the king from entering Minimaterra, for the purpose of protecting the human populace—and ensuring quality stock. 

Joey, always the inquisitive type, was bursting with excitement and had a lot of questions. “So, if giants normally aren’t allowed into the human kingdom, are humans still allowed to freely pass into our lands?” 

“Not quite,” Sir Maneater explained. “They usually require a permit, and for practicality purposes, a giant escort.” 

“But... we surround them on all sides, don’t we? Doesn’t that mean they are essentially prisoners in their own land?” Joey pressed, his brow furrowing. 

“It’s for their own safety,” Leon sighed. Joey was correct, but he didn’t want to dwell on the unpleasant thought. “A lone human is easy prey for a wild animal or a giant with ignoble intentions. They are better off with their own kind.” 

“Wait, are you saying the flora and fauna on their side are miniaturized as well?” Before Leon or Sir Maneater could answer, they reached the border crossing. Leon presented the guards with the proclamation and the royal seal, and the party was granted egress without incident. They left their horses behind in the care of the guards, since the beasts of burden weren’t necessary to cross the protectorate and would be more of a hazard to the environment than an advantage. 

Joey’s eyes just about boggled out of his head when he beheld for the first time the tiny landscape. He removed his glasses and polished them before replacing them on his face, to make sure what he was seeing was real. The giant men were surrounded by a forest of trees, the tallest of which barely reached the height of Joey’s calves. “Why—the trees are so small!” he exclaimed. He flinched as a flock of birds swooped past his knee. “Look at those birds!” 

“I suppose that answers your question,” Leon chuckled, stepping forward with care so as not to knock over any trees. The other two giants followed. Joey gaped in awe. 

“Well, now I have even more questions,” Joey remarked. “How is this possible? Why are the trees and animals small? Why isn’t there any overlap? I would think the plants would seed on both sides of the border, or large animals would find their way into the interior.” 

“Nobody really knows for sure,” Sir Maneater explained, “but the legends say that humans were once giants like us. A powerful sorcerer, seeking revenge for an unknown cause, cursed the land at least a millennium ago. All the creatures and physical matter in the area shrank, including inanimate objects and people. The other unaffected animals instinctively stay away from the curse, so they do not enter. It doesn’t detract us giants though.” He shrugged. “Perhaps that was what the sorcerer intended.” 

“Wow, that’s quite dark,” Joey said, in a more somber tone. He got distracted as a herd of deer ran past his boot. “Amazing.” He couldn’t get enough of the incredible sights. He had always known that humans existed, but to see an entire diminutive world alive at his feet was positively magical, like a scene from a fairy tale. 

They didn’t have to walk very far until signs of human habitation started to appear. The forest gave way to farmland, complete with tiny red barns and farmhouses, grain silos, windmills, fences, and a wide array of domesticated animals. Joey’s mouth hung open as he observed teeny horses and cattle grazing, and little clucking specks wandering around that he presumed must be chickens. He even saw humans, shockingly small yet perfect replicas of their larger brethren. 

“Oh my goodness, they’re adorable!” he gushed.  

“Joey, that’s rude,” Sir Maneater reprimanded. “They’re people just like us. Also, keep your voice down. Their hearing is sensitive with their size.” 

“Sorry.” Joey’s innocent smile faded when he noticed how frightened the humans seemed to be upon his arrival, disappearing into the nearest buildings or hiding places. “Oh, they’re running away...” 

“You’ll have to get used to that,” Leon said, a twinge of melancholy in his tone. “They have good reason to be afraid. We’re so much larger than them, after all.” 

“But we wouldn’t hurt them...” Joey protested. He was disappointed. He hated to think that the little people feared him, when he was a gentle giant. He had secretly hoped to hold a human and talk to one, but that seemed out of the question now. 

“Of course not. But they don’t know that,” Leon countered. 

“But we’re not here to cause harm! Don’t they know that us giants are allies, and are just trying to protect them?” Joey replied. Leon and Sir Maneater exchanged uneasy glances. Joey, with his naïveté, was oblivious to their true purpose here. In the past, when the human king failed to gather enough attractive females to satisfy King Richard’s requirement, or the king was displeased with the quality of the tribute, the giant king had sent soldiers in to snatch up extra women and wreak havoc as they pleased. Such terrible atrocities were not forgotten easily in collective memory. 

“Joey, don’t step there!” the knight scolded his squire. Joey pulled back his boot just in time. “That’s a field of grain. Be careful not to crush their food underfoot.” 

“M-my bad,” Joey stammered, a bit flustered. The grain looked like light brown grass from his height. He was suddenly very self-conscious about just how big and clumsy he was, and how much more space he took up in this tiny world. He felt sick to his stomach as he realized how easy it would be to accidentally step on someone, without even knowing they were there. He was more cautious with every step now. 

The pathways became wider and the quaint little cottages gave way to larger structures as the giants approached the more bustling areas around the capital. Joey noticed that, while most humans reacted with horror at the sight of giants, others stared up at his towering figure with amazement, fascination, or resentment. He didn’t say anything, remembering how his mentor had criticized him for talking too loudly. He felt embarrassed with so many eyes on him, even if they were tiny. 

The giants had to shuffle along slowly, with roads that still felt too narrow for their huge feet. Joey was exceedingly cautious not to knock over any buildings or step on any people, carts, or wagons. Fortunately, most humans had the common sense to get out of his way. He marveled at all the sights and details on such a miniscule scale. There was a market square, tiny stalls selling crops and other wares, little houses and shops and alleyways. Joey could almost imagine such things were fake, like toys, if not for how vibrant and alive and intricate the whole scene was. 

The central palace, nestled in the heart of the city, was truly a sight to behold, even if the tallest tower barely reached his waist. The giants stepped over the palace walls with ease to find a sprawling courtyard large enough to hold all three of them. The courtyard was richly decorated with ornate statues, fruit trees, colorful gardens, and a central multi-layered fountain. The representatives of the king had no need to announce their presence as they waited patiently for an audience. The tiny guards warily aimed spears and arrows up at the giants. 

A human emerged onto the balcony at the highest point of the castle tower, with his head held high. He was lavishly dressed, and despite his small stature commanded a confident and regal aura that made him instantly recognizable as the king of the humans. He had dark skin, long braids of hair tied back with gold thread, and eyes that blazed with intensity. Leon and Sir Maneater bowed with reverence, and Joey scrambled to follow suit. When they kneeled, they were close to eye level with the king, so they stayed on their knees out of respect.  

“His Majesty, King Charles of Minimaterra!” a herald announced. The king showed no fear on his noble features, indicating to the guards to stand down with a mild gesture of his hands. A hush settled over the assembled parties as they waited for the king to speak. 

“Gentlemen,” he proclaimed, his rich voice ringing far in spite of his size. “Why are you here?” He spoke with dignity and authority, yet there was a harsh tone underlying his words. 

“We bring a message from our king,” Leon answered, lowering his head in deference. 

“Proceed,” King Charles ordered, regally folding his arms over his chest. 

Leon unfurled the proclamation and began to recite the message within. “His Majesty, King Richard of the Hardon Dynasty, esteemed Ruler of the Kingdom of Giganterra, hereby Proclaims that the human Kingdom of Minimaterra shall uphold their Agreement, in exchange for Protection by the Grace of Giganterra to keep their territory Safe and Secure, to provide the Giant King with his Rightful Tribute. This Tribute shall consist of five human Maidens and two human Men and shall be Collected one week from today. By Order of the King.” Leon rolled up the scroll, schooling his face into a neutral expression despite his insides squirming with disgust at having to read out loud such a despicable edict. 

Joey kept his head down, but his heart was thrown into turmoil as he heard those harrowing words. The giant king was demanding tribute in the form of… living people? They were here to engage in some sick slave trade? And why did he specify five women and two men? What was he planning to do with those people? His stomach churned with the disturbing possibilities. His revulsion magnified as he realized his fellow giants, whom he respected and trusted, were complicit in this deplorable event. He wanted to stop them, to protest and storm off, perhaps even vomit, but he remained kneeling, not wanting to embarrass the others and cause a scene. He would talk to them later. 

The human king’s expression morphed into righteous anger as the proclamation was read to him. His noble composure receded as he balled his microscopic hands into fists, shaking with fury. “This again?” he snapped. “We just provided tribute a few months ago! And he’s asking for men now as well as women? AND he’s increased the quantity? What madness is this?!” 

“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Leon said, sinking down with shame. “I’ll be happy to convey your concerns to our most illustrious King Richard, if you wish...” 

The king’s face drained of color. “That... won’t be necessary,” he clarified. “We will comply.” Even from afar, Joey could detect the tension in his little jaw as he gritted his teeth. King Charles was painfully aware that he was in no position to refuse, as unreasonable as he considered the demands. The giants could invade and enslave all his people on a whim. 

“Very well,” Leon confirmed. “Thank you for your time, and gracing us with your presence, Your Majesty.” 

The king dismissed the party. As Leon turned away, he winced with humiliation. He hated being the king’s dog, aiding him with his terrible abuses, yet he couldn’t break free of the powerful man’s grasp. He’d served the current king’s father before his untimely death, when times were better and the humans were treated with respect. He’d watched the rapid descent into evil when his devilish son had ascended the throne, but was powerless to stop it. King Richard kept him close, as a trusted advisor, but Leon was fully aware he could dispose of him at any time. He knew too much about the royal family to merely be fired if he didn’t live up to the king’s standards and submit to his will; he would end up beheaded if he stood up to the king. Thus, he trudged away in shame through the tiny human city, watching the humans scamper away in terror or glare up at him, hating himself almost as much as they hated him, their oppressor. 

Chapter 3

[no-shxme]

there's this one talsett premise i drabbled a lot in private and i still think about it bc its so fun. i'm gonna ramble about it at length under the cut bc... idk... its basically the full summary.

the basic premise was canon runeterra where sett learns about some sorta magical artifact from some dude at the pit that grants a wish. apparently its somewhere deep in the ixtali jungle. sett hates how sad his ma is about his pa leaving, so he decides to make a trip over to wish her pain away.

so he makes the trip over and gets pretty immediately captured by demacian soldiers that are camped out at the start of the jungle (south of piltover) for some reason.. sett doesn't get it, but either way he's interrogated bc demacians are going after this artifact too apparently, (it only becomes available once ever xyz years or smth, some sort of time crunch.) the demacians are led by lux's aunt, tianna crownguard, but sett doesn't know who any of these people are ofc. one of sett's arms is locked in a petricite handcuff and the other end is locked to another captive's arm. and of course it's talon.

talon has been sent to retrieve the artifact on his own, after failing another one of the general's errands. he also got captured (bc really who would expect a bunch of demacians all the way out here) and has tried and failed to escape twice now. then because sett's so big and hard to miss, they're handcuffed together to be each other's ball and chain. sett hates noxians, talon likes personal space, and they both want the same thing. this will be a problem.

they do escape with the help of sett's strength and talon's ability to lockpick doors one-handed and thus begins a mad scramble into the jungle, running from wild animals, demacian soldiers, and other hazards.

problems they encounter include:

the fact that petricite is notoriously impervious, and neither of them can get their cuff off short of cutting off somone's arm. (talon isn't opposed to this.)

the fact that talon can't MAKE sett go anywhere, even at knifepoint, because he dwarfs him in size, weight, and strength. But Sett can drag him wherever he wants, through tall grasses and uphill.

speaking of which, sett drags talon through a river at the end of day 1 of being together, in which talon nearly drowns bc he can't keep up and afterwards that's pretty much talons limit where he has a panic attack bc he just NEEDS some level of control like this is a fucking nightmare. this is also the first time sett feels pity for him.

sett and talon learning to compromise in some ways (also known as talon climbing a tree and hanging on until sett caves to his demands. (his arm is sore.) sett learns that talon has been assigned to steal the artifact on his own, which seems kinda crazy for one lil guy, and sett explains his own reason for finding it. he thinks that his reason is clearly 10x more just and noble but talon's not responsive and it pisses sett off.

they encounter random other champs. kayn (with scythe rhaast) are also looking for the wish, but they part ways more amicably. they also meet neeko just tooling around having a grand time.

sett asks neeko to transform into talon and she does, and then he asks her to smile and is immediately weirded out bc 'talon' smiling like that looks unnatural lol.

talon slowly reveals more information about his father and sett decides he sounds like a fucking asshole.

sett getting ticks on his ears that talon has to cut out bc he's freaking out.

sett carrying talon like a bag of sand over his shoulder.

eventually they reach qiyana's kingdom and i honestly can't remember why they get to live but they do, and they FINALLY get their shackles removed and also a bath. by now they've gotten pretty good at working together, though the problem of who gets the wish boils over. sett gets pissed off bc talon still wont concede the fact that he should totally get the wish for his ma. talon is still adamant that he needs it, and sett tells him he's stupid cause his dad's an asshole and talon snaps that he knows that. and sett realizes that talon actually just wants the wish for himself because he sees it as the only way to 100% escape his abusive circumstances. his dad just sent him to the jungle after his latest failure, basically dooming him to a wild goose chase with no real chance of success.

there's a little backstabbery at the end. a race between talon and sett (now uncuffed), and kayn and the demacians. (tiana crownguard wants to wish her niece's magic away, since she'd discovered lux's secret and wants to do it for her own safety). at the very end sett tries to make a deal with talon to help him get away from his father but talon doesn't trust him and instead sticks him with some natural paralytic (doesn't kill him) and goes on without him. sett recovers quickly due to size and natural resilience. by the time he gets to the spot, high up in a perilous cliff-side he's basically in the thick of it. the ending conflict forces him to make a choice between saving talon from falling to his death even though he betrayed him, or getting his wish. and ofc he ends up saving talon. he's learned to empathize with him. kayn gets the wish (and rhaast gets his own body.) and sett ends up taking talon home anyway like he'd offered to, even though he betrayed him. demacians just lose lol.

that's basically the whole thing. my god this was long sorry. i decided not to write it bc i dreaded writing the environments and i knew itd be long, though i did write some scenes from it. i just love the premise of sett and talon handcuffed together so bad. if i ever have the chance to sneak it into another fic i totally will.