#Tree cabling and bracing

[mckinneytreetrimmers]

[evergreenltd]

How Tree Cabling and Bracing Can Save Your Mature Trees in Calgary

Mature trees are the guardians of our landscapes. They provide beauty, shade, cleaner air, and even increase property value. But just like us, trees grow old, and with age comes vulnerability. Harsh weather, structural weaknesses, and environmental stress can compromise the safety and health of even the most majestic trees. If you’re lucky enough to have mature trees in your yard in Calgary, you might already know how important it is to care for them properly. One often-overlooked method of preservation is tree cabling and bracing.

In this blog post, we’ll explore why Calgary Tree Cabling and Bracing Services are essential for protecting your mature trees, how the process works, and why you should trust professionals like Evergreen Ltd to help your trees thrive for years to come.

Why Mature Trees Are Worth Saving

Before diving into the how, let's talk about the why.

Environmental Benefits

Mature trees absorb carbon dioxide, filter pollutants, and release oxygen. They provide critical habitats for wildlife and play an important role in urban ecosystems. In Calgary’s ever-evolving cityscape, preserving established trees is a powerful step toward sustainability.

Economic and Aesthetic Value

A mature tree can increase a property’s value by thousands of dollars. Their presence reduces cooling costs in summer, prevents soil erosion, and adds visual appeal that younger trees can't match.

Emotional and Historical Importance

For many homeowners, mature trees carry sentimental value. Whether it’s the tree you planted when you bought your home or one that’s watched your kids grow up, saving it isn’t just about the environment—it’s personal.

Understanding Tree Cabling and Bracing

So, what exactly is tree cabling and bracing?

Cabling and bracing are structural support systems designed to stabilize weak or vulnerable trees, particularly those with:

Co-dominant stems

Cracks in limbs or trunks

Overextended or heavy branches

Storm damage

Trees with weak wood structure (like willows or poplars)

What Is Cabling?

Tree cabling involves installing flexible steel cables between major branches to reduce movement and prevent them from splitting apart. This technique helps redistribute mechanical stress and supports tree limbs during high winds or heavy snowfall—a common issue in Calgary.

What Is Bracing?

Bracing uses threaded steel rods installed through weak or split branches or trunks. Unlike cabling, which offers flexibility, bracing provides rigid support. It’s often used in tandem with cabling for added stability.

Signs Your Tree Needs Cabling or Bracing

Not every tree needs support, but here are some signs that yours might:

Noticeable cracks in limbs or trunk

Multiple large stems growing from a single point (co-dominant leaders)

Large, heavy limbs extending horizontally

Visible leaning or swaying during light winds

History of storm damage

Deadwood or decaying areas

If you’re seeing any of these issues, it’s time to consider Calgary Tree Cabling and Bracing Services.

Why Calgary’s Climate Poses Unique Challenges for Trees

Calgary’s environment is beautiful but demanding. The region is known for its:

Heavy snowfalls that accumulate on limbs, increasing the risk of breakage

Chinooks that create dramatic temperature swings

Windstorms that can tear apart weakened or unbalanced trees

Urban development which causes soil compaction and root disturbances

All these factors increase the stress on mature trees. That’s why preventative structural support is so vital here.

Benefits of Tree Cabling and Bracing

Now that we’ve identified the risks, let’s dive into the many benefits of these services.

1. Prolong Tree Life

Cabling and bracing can dramatically extend the life of a mature tree by preventing structural failures that could otherwise lead to decline or removal.

2. Protect Property and People

Failing limbs can cause serious damage to homes, cars, and even injure people. Proper support mitigates these risks, especially during Calgary’s intense weather conditions.

3. Preserve Aesthetic Integrity

Why chop off a beautiful branch if it can be saved? Bracing and cabling allow you to maintain the natural shape and beauty of your tree without major pruning or removal.

4. Cost-Effective Tree Care

Compared to removing and replacing a mature tree—which can cost thousands—installing a support system is an affordable alternative that protects your investment.

Why Hire Professionals Like Evergreen Ltd?

Tree cabling and bracing are not DIY projects. They require arboricultural knowledge, precision, and specialized equipment. That’s where Evergreen Ltd comes in.

Certified Arborists

Evergreen Ltd employs certified arborists who understand the biological and structural intricacies of trees. They can assess whether your tree needs support and determine the best way to apply it.

Customized Solutions

Not all trees—or problems—are the same. Evergreen Ltd offers tailored Calgary Tree Cabling and Bracing Services that meet the unique needs of each tree and property.

Safety First

Improper cabling can do more harm than good. Evergreen Ltd follows industry safety standards to ensure every tree is treated with care and every installation is safe and effective.

Ongoing Monitoring

Structural support systems aren’t a one-time fix. Trees continue to grow, and cables may need adjustments. Evergreen Ltd offers maintenance and monitoring services to ensure long-term results.

The Process: What to Expect

Here’s what a typical cabling and bracing project looks like with Evergreen Ltd:

Step 1: Initial Tree Assessment

A certified arborist inspects the tree for signs of weakness, damage, and potential hazards. They’ll evaluate the structure, health, and environmental conditions.

Step 2: Recommendation and Quotation

If cabling or bracing is needed, the arborist will explain the plan and provide a quote tailored to your tree’s needs.

Step 3: Installation

Professionals use non-invasive techniques and top-quality materials to install the cables and/or braces, all while minimizing damage to the tree.

Step 4: Follow-Up and Maintenance

Evergreen Ltd schedules follow-up visits to ensure the system is functioning properly and adjusts as the tree grows.

Real-Life Example: Saving a Heritage Elm in Calgary

One Calgary homeowner had a 75-year-old American Elm that began to split down the middle due to co-dominant stems. Instead of removing the tree, they contacted Evergreen Ltd. The team installed a dynamic cabling system between the main trunks and a brace rod through the base. Today, that elm stands tall, strong, and continues to provide shade and charm to the yard.

When Cabling and Bracing Isn’t Enough

In some cases, the damage or decay is too extensive. If a tree poses an imminent threat to safety or is beyond saving, removal might be necessary. However, with timely intervention using cabling and bracing, many trees that seem doomed can be preserved.

Combine Cabling with Other Tree Care Services

Cabling and bracing work best when paired with:

Regular pruning to reduce excess weight

Soil care to enhance root stability

Disease and pest management

Deep root fertilization

Evergreen Ltd offers comprehensive tree care solutions to help you maintain healthy and stable trees for the long haul.

Final Thoughts: Don’t Wait Until It’s Too Late

The loss of a mature tree isn’t just a landscaping concern—it’s a blow to your home, your environment, and your memories. With Calgary’s unpredictable climate, it’s never too early to take preventative action.

Cabling and bracing is one of the most effective ways to preserve your trees and protect your property. Whether your trees are showing signs of stress or you simply want peace of mind, trust the experts.

Trust Evergreen Ltd for Calgary Tree Cabling and Bracing Services

Evergreen Ltd is Calgary’s trusted name in arborist services. With years of experience, a certified team, and a passion for trees, they offer the highest-quality Calgary Tree Cabling and Bracing Services. Their goal? To help your trees live longer, safer, and healthier lives.

Contact Evergreen Ltd today to schedule a consultation and take the first step in safeguarding your urban forest. Because saving a tree today means enjoying it for decades to come.

[burtlesbackhanddragon]

How to Protect Your Trees from Storm Damage

Storms can wreak havoc on your property, and trees are often among the first casualties. High winds, heavy rain, and even snow storms can cause limbs to break, trees to fall, and significant damage to your landscape. However, with the right preventative measures, you can protect your trees from storm damage and keep them healthy and strong through all seasons. Burtles Backhand Dragon Tree Care Services describes how you can safeguard your trees and your property.

Regular Tree Inspections: Conduct regular inspections to identify weak or damaged branches. Remove any dead or diseased wood to prevent them from becoming hazards during storms.

Regular Tree Pruning: One of the most effective ways to protect your trees from storm damage is through regular pruning. Overgrown branches or dead limbs are more susceptible to breaking in high winds or under the weight of snow. Pruning helps to remove these weak areas and ensures that your tree is structurally sound. Professional arborists like Burtles Backhand Dragon Tree Care Services can also shape the tree, reducing wind resistance and making it less likely to fall during a storm.

Cabling and Bracing: For trees with multiple trunks or heavy branches, cabling and bracing can offer additional support. These techniques involve installing flexible steel cables and rigid rods in the tree to help redistribute the weight and reduce stress on vulnerable areas. Cabling and bracing can be particularly effective for trees with structural weaknesses or trees located in areas prone to strong winds.

Tree Health and Maintenance: Healthy trees are more resilient to storm damage, so maintaining your tree’s overall health is crucial. Regular watering, mulching, and fertilization provide trees with the nutrients they need to stay strong. Trees that are stressed from poor soil conditions, drought, or disease are more likely to succumb to storm damage. Professional tree care services from Burtles Backhand Dragon Tree Care can help you monitor the health of your trees and offer recommendations for maintaining their vitality.

Fertilization: Ensure your trees are receiving adequate nutrients to maintain their health and vigor. Regular fertilization can help trees withstand stress from storms.

Staking: If your trees are young or have shallow root systems, consider staking them to provide additional support. However, avoid over-staking, as it can hinder root development.

Assess for Structural Weaknesses:Sometimes, trees may have hidden structural weaknesses that aren't immediately visible. An arborist at Burtles Backhand Dragon Tree Care Services can assess the condition of your trees and identify potential risks before a storm hits. This assessment might include looking for cracks in the trunk, rotting wood, or poor root structures. Addressing these issues early can prevent costly damage to your property during a storm.

Remove Hazardous Trees: In some cases, removing a tree is the safest option, especially if it poses a significant threat to your home or property. Dead, dying, or severely damaged trees are more likely to fall during a storm, leading to property damage or personal injury. A professional arborist from Burtles Backhand Dragon Tree Care Services can evaluate whether a tree should be removed and ensure that the removal is done safely and efficiently.

Plan for Future Storms: Being proactive about tree care is key to minimizing storm damage. By scheduling regular inspections and maintenance with a certified arborist like Burtles Backhand Dragon Tree Care Services, you can keep your trees strong and healthy all year long. Investing in tree care before a storm strikes will not only protect your property but also preserve the beauty and longevity of your landscape.

Protecting your trees from storm damage requires foresight and proper maintenance. Regular pruning, health assessments, and proactive measures like cabling and bracing can significantly reduce the risk of storm-related damage. When in doubt, consult with a professional tree care service like Burtles Backhand Dragon Tree Care Services to evaluate the health of your trees and recommend the best course of action. Stay ahead of the storm with expert tree care services, and keep your landscape looking its best through every season. Contact Burtles Backhand Dragon Tree Care today at 724-234-5451 or visit https://www.bbdtreecare.com/ to schedule a consultation or service, and let us help you prepare your trees for the fall and winter seasons! Don't wait until it's too late!

#TreeStormDamage #CertifiedArborist #TreeCare #Arborist #BurtlesBackhandDragonTreeCare #Pruning #Trimming #TreeRemoval #EmergencyTreeServices

[livingstyleup]

Emergency Tree Removal Services: Immediate Solutions at Your Service

When trees pose a sudden hazard, our emergency tree removal services offer rapid and reliable solutions. Whether due to storms, accidents, or unexpected risks, our expert team swiftly responds to mitigate dangers. With specialized equipment and skilled professionals, we prioritize safety while efficiently removing hazardous trees. Trust our prompt emergency services for immediate tree removal needs, ensuring your surroundings are secure and risk-free.

[onlinewordworld]

Strengthen Your Trees with Professional Tree Bracing Services by Dynamic Arborist!

Dynamic Arborist is a leading provider of tree bracing services in the Australia. We offer a wide range of tree bracing services, including tree cabling, tree splinting, and tree anchoring. Safeguard the health and beauty of your precious trees with our expert tree removal services. Dynamic Arborist offers reliable support systems to reinforce weak branches and prevent potential hazards. Trust our skilled team to preserve the natural charm of your landscape and ensure the longevity of your trees.

[biblical-chronicles]

Feral

________________________________________________

where Liam wants you quite bad (with the help of some magic dust)

[18+]

________________________________________________

You showed up at the studio mid-afternoon, balancing a bag of sandwiches and a couple of drinks like some kind of clumsy little waitress. You knew Liam had been holed up here with the lads for hours, probably forgetting what food even was. And you — always the fool for him — decided to take pity.

You made it inside easily, the usual mess of tangled cords, battered amps, and half-empty bottles greeting you. The lads waved distractedly, too caught up in whatever strange noise experiment they were brewing. Liam was standing in the middle of it all - pacing, fidgeting, animated like a firecracker.

You didn’t need to be a genius to know that he was most likely on something. Eyes gleaming too bright, moving too fast, talking a mile a minute to no one in particular.

As soon as he caught sight of you though — It was like everything else blurred out.

"Oi!" he practically shouted, dropping whatever battered notebook he was holding. He darted toward you like a man possessed, eyes laser-locked onto you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to Earth.

You barely managed to put the food down before he crashed into you, arms snaking around your waist, pulling you tight against him.

"Liam—!" you squeaked, laughing, trying to push at his chest a little because you were very much not alone. "The lads are right there—"

He didn’t seem to care. He just buried his face in your neck, nosing along your skin, breathing you in.

"You smell fuckin' unreal," he muttered, voice thick with need. You could feel how keyed-up he was, practically vibrating in your arms.

"Liam," you hissed, squirming, noticing Bonehead looking over with a smirk before going back to fiddling with a cable.

But Liam was insistent. "Come ‘ere," he mumbled, already tugging at your wrist, leading you toward some barely functional side office in the back. You stumbled after him, half-scolding, half-giggling, because he was a goddamn force of nature like this, no point fighting it.

He kicked the door shut behind you and immediately caged you against it, hands gripping your hips like you might disappear if he didn’t hold you hard enough.

You opened your mouth to say something but it was of no use. Liam was already kissing you, desperate and sloppy, teeth grazing your lip like he couldn’t get enough. You gasped into his mouth, hands flying up to his hair instinctively.

He groaned at that and just ground himself against you, panting against your mouth.

"Liam—!" you tried, breathless, "You’re gonna get us caught—"

"Don't care," he rasped, kissing along your jaw, rough and adoring, fingers bunching your shirt up higher and higher. "Need you. Bloody hell, been thinkin’ ‘bout you all day—"

You whimpered because god help you, when he got like this, you were helpless.

You tugged him closer, nails dragging lightly over the back of his neck, making him shudder. He nipped your ear and laughed when you gasped.

"You’re killing me." you murmured, clinging onto him.

"Says you," he grinned, eyes bright and wicked, "show up lookin’ like this. What’m I meant to do? Behave? Fuck off"

He was all over you again, hands on your hips, mouth at your neck, and you had to brace yourself against the wall, heart hammering like a drum. His breath was hot, his grip tighter than it needed to be. He felt like he was buzzing under your hands.

“Liam,” you whispered, half-laughing, half-pleading, “we need to go home.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, brows furrowed.

“What, now? You serious?”

You smoothed your hands down his chest, calming him with a firm press. “You’ve been climbing me like a tree in a public studio, we can have a better time at home.”

He stared at you for a second. Then huffed through his nose, clearly annoyed you had a point. He still didn’t let go though — not fully. Just slid his fingers through yours, clutching your hand.

“Right,” he muttered, eyes flicking over your face. “I’ll go. But you better not be far behind love.”

You raised your brow. “Behave. We'll get some air.”

“Don’t need fuckin’ air,” he grumbled, already dragging you toward the back door of the studio. “Need you.”

You barely had time to fix your hair and pretend like you hadn't just been ravaged against a studio wall before Liam grabbed your hand again, squeezing your fingers tight like he might combust if he let go.

“C’mon, c'mon," he muttered under his breath, voice thick, ragged with impatience. His eyes were still blazing, blown wide and hungry, glued onto you.

You tried keeping a straight face, but you were panting already, skin flushed, still feeling the imprint of him all over you.

Outside, the air was cool, yer it didn’t help much with the heat still licking at your skin.

Liam turned back only once you were properly away from view, grabbing both your hips and backing you up against the nearest building like he couldn’t even think straight. His hands trembled slightly on you.

"Gonna get you back, love," he breathed, voice low, "and then m’gonna—"

He broke off, visibly shuddering, forehead resting against yours.

"Gonna have you on every bloody surface of that flat," he hissed, voice shaking, "again, and again, and again. Gonna fuckin' wreck you, yeah."

You whined, hands grabbing the front of his jacket to steady yourself.

"Please," you gasped, emboldened by the chaos he was promising, "I need it so bad—"

That snapped something in him. He quickly grabbed your hand again, practically dragging you at a run now down the street toward the flat.

The whole way there he kept muttering under his breath like a madman, every few steps stopping to shove you into a doorway or a wall just to bite kisses onto your neck, hands roaming over you, grabbing your arse, lifting your skirt with reckless abandon.

"Gonna make you scream me name again," he whispered into your ear as you stumbled up the steps to the flat, "til everyone on the fuckin' block knows you’re mine."

You could barely get your key into the lock with how badly you were shaking, and Liam wasn’t helping, hands all over you, breath hot against the side of your face, hips pressed against your bum to keep you pinned still.

Finally, the door slammed open, he kicked it shut behind you, didn’t even wait, just pushed you flat up against it, kissing you rough, messy, desperate.

You pulled at his hair, tugged him closer, grinding up against him.

"You need me, Liam?" you panted against his mouth.

"Need you so bad it hurts," he choked, "and m’gonna fuckin’ show you how much, right fuckin' now—"

He suddenly scooped you up then, arms under your thighs, and carried you to the bedroom without breaking the kiss once, staggering and bumping into the walls, both of you laughing breathlessly between frantic mouthfuls of each other.

The second your back hit the mattress, Liam was on you, no hesitation, just wild, frantic movements, shaking hands and burning kisses.

He yanked your shirt up, dragged it clean over your head, tossing it somewhere without a thought. His mouth immediately dropped to your chest, mouthing, kissing, teeth scraping, so desperate he was practically devouring you.

"Fuckin' gorgeous," he panted against your skin, voice trembling. "Mine. M’gonna make you bloody know it tonight."

You gasped, arching up into him, your fingers clawing at his skin, trying to get more, trying to get all of him.

"Liam—" you whimpered, head thrown back.

He just made a noise at that only to then immidiately tear his own shirt off, throwing it somewhere over his shoulder. He fumbled with his belt next, cursing under his breath when it got caught, too frantic to manage it smoothly.

You laughed breathlessly, hands slipping down to help, and the second you did he looked down at you, wide eyes, pupils blown wide, chest heaving.

"You're gonna kill me," he rasped, pressing his forehead to yours.

"You’re the one who started this," you teased, voice wrecked but playful, hips canting up into his.

He let out a ragged laugh and finally shoved his trousers down far enough to free himself.

You barely had time to breathe before he grabbed your thighs, dragging you down the bed toward him.

"Gonna fuck you til you can't bloody walk."

"Good." you gasped, "want it, Liam— need you to—"

You didn’t even finish the sentence. He slid into you with one rough, desperate thrust, both of you crying out, clutching at each other like it was life or death.

The drugs had him absolutely insatiable, every thrust hard, fast, relentless, his hands everywhere, squeezing your hips, grabbing your wrists to pin them above your head, stroking your face almost tenderly only to dig his nails into your thighs a second later.

He was panting into your ear, whispering an endless, filthy stream:

"Fuckin'— look at you, all mine— beautiful— so good for me— screaming for me—"

You were moaning wreckedly, shameless, nails raking down his back, begging him for more even when you had no breath left to beg with.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t see. Just feel him everywhere, feel his hands, his mouth, his cock driving into you deep and perfect and desperate.

When you finally came, it hit so hard you screamed, clinging to him like you might fall through the bed. He fucked you right through it, relentless, chasing his own release, whispering hoarse, broken praise into your neck.

When he finally came, it was with a strangled cry of your name, hips grinding desperately into yours, holding you tight enough to bruise.

And even then, even when he was breathless and trembling all over, he didn’t let go.

He stayed inside you, mouth open against your shoulder, breathing you in like he never wanted to come up for air.

"M'not done yet," he mumbled against your skin, voice wrecked, barely coherent.

You laughed, delirious, stroking his sweaty hair back from his forehead.

"Knew you were a menace," you teased weakly.

He lifted his head just enough to grin at you — a wicked, unrepentant grin — before kissing you again, slow and deep and possessive.

"Still gonna ruin you proper," he muttered.

________________________________________________

I'm back at it again ya lot xx

finally scribbled summat down, hope ya like it !

[jkpetrie]

seals are such beautiful creatures i saw a critically endangered seal washed up on the beach sleeping and you know i kept my distance admired her took photos of her. was in awe of her. but then i just sat there for a minute with my dad behind me and i got choked up but not really about the seal more so about the fact im 22 and that was one of the first truly special moments i’d shared with my dad and just my dad.

you family can save the couple thousand dollars to go to disneyland as a family, scrounge and save, don’t eat too much outside of toast and beans, drive up to this place that isn’t ever going to be what you expected. this plastic paradise. and maybe your dad gets emotional over getting to see cinderella’s castle in person with his little girl who loves to watch cinderella— he never got to go to disneyland as a kid, he never even got to eat meat that wasnt unidentifiable in some way, he told you as much— and maybe that’s the first time you see him as human and not dad, maybe that’s the first time you consider that he even likes you. at the ripe age of about sixteen. then you think of it as a fluke because he goes back to his normal self afterward, his normal self who doesn’t really like who you are much, who you’re always, always fucking fighting with, jesus christ, even at disneyland. it was a fluke that my dad got emotional over cinderellas castle, you thought to yourself.

he was hardly ever there, gone for over a year at a time sometimes, and he’d come home not liking how i’d grown like i was a tree that needed to be braced and cabled, but he could never do it in a way that was strong enough to keep me straight.

so when we saw that seal it wasnt this forced father daughter bonding that was struggling so hard to be summoned in the first place. buying a product you know. rent a carpet cleaner to get all the nail polish stains out. buy access to disneyland to get your daughter to love you.

rather we just happened to see this seal together. sure we hoped to see one. we didn’t think we actually would, just sitting there sleeping and sneezing. and i got emotional. how could this country let something so beautiful and harmless become endangered? how could this country do anything it does? it was the first time there wasnt something manufactured involved in us loving one another, which just left me still feeling unloved anyway, hating him, even. that time we loved each other by chance and nothing interrupted.

[kintsug1kitsune]

deployment

"Circuit, brace for combat."

"Received and deploying, handler."

The circuit, the pilot of their mech, was nestled in the wires of its heartmount; cables hooked into their neural ports, wrapping around their brainstem and invading their nervous system. They hadn't synched yet, but they were prepared.

Fifty meters of white-gold eschatalium, sharp and pseudo-organic in design, artfully painted black to intersperse with the gold, colors of the Empyrean. Two legs on heel-mount feet, stiletto-like greaves for agility; two arms, long and spiked with clawed hands and packed full of the best weaponry humanity could produce. An armored torso with a head atop, sleek and like a knight's helm, massive sharp-toothed jaws that could snap steel girders in half; four camera eyes, diagonally-spaced, with a wreath of decorative red feathers signifying its position: solo work, sovereign from any squadron.

A Mechanical Eden, one of the finest and greatest weapons of the Empyrean. And within, its circuit, a pilot called Killy, short for Killer. They looked over the hardlight screens before them, ensured all systems were green, and hit the button to synch: all at once, a flood of chemicals surged through the wires and into their body. The lovechild of opium, methamphetamine, cannabis, and psilocybin, derived from human spinal fluid and currently smashing a hole in Killy's consciousness.

Their spirit expanded out through their body and into the soul matrix of their Eden; they meshed together, an amalgamate machine consciousness and its pilot, a beautiful union of identity put to one purpose--war.

Hey, pretty. Hello, circuit. Good to be back. Good to have you back.

Through the Eden's eyes--their own eyes, now--they surveyed the beach. They had been dropped down from orbit onto this small island to await orders in case a battle some kilometers away went badly. Through their body's eyes, now just another part in the war machine, they received signals on-screen from the Athame, the Arbiter-class doll overseeing battle on this, the moon of Illulia.

"Witch summoning imminent. Eliminate or contain threat."

Killy didn't hesitate, and their body--as well as their Eden--broke out into a manic grin. It was time for battle.

Massive golden wings unfurled from the Eden's back, spell circles humming to life as ether coursed through them, and Killy was off: maneuvering thrusters ignited and glassed sand underneath as the wings lofted them over the ocean at mach speeds, coming in low over the waves.

Soon the objective was in sight: an island with smoke curling off it, palm trees and underbrush devastated by the fires of war, with a towering metal building up on a mountain at its center.

"Killy," their handler's voice came into their mind through neural connection, "Your target is the Witch of Scripts. It's a master strategist that uses spells to manipulate the mind and body. Any second, it's going to breach and come into reality. Full force permitted. Destroy it."

Killy licked their lips, drooling in anticipation, already wetting their crotch tubes with cum due to the chems. "Received. Affirmative, handler."

It took no seconds for the island in front of Killy to explode.

The corporate tower on the mountain shattered apart in a spray of molten steel and rubble; the Empyrean forces that had been surrounding it were crushed and scattered. Killy could feel Athame sending orders to gather and retreat to the beachhead, and could see combat dolls and infantry fleeing and trying their best to follow the command.

As they kept closing the distance, cresting the ocean, and now flying over the island's beach, they could also see… A swathe of death. Doll parts, drone parts, human corpses still clad in advanced armor, blood and oil everywhere… Killy came to a stop over the ashy, ruined ground and the mountain of bodies.

And there was a girl there. In the middle of it all, far below, there was a girl.

The Eden looked down on her, and she looked far, far up to the Eden. She was wearing some kind of battle-dress, shimmering brilliantly and beautifully in the eternal night.

"Oh, an Eden? Really? My Witch is that big of a deal?" The Innocence smiled up at the mech and pointed her halberd at it. "Well! Not like it matters, it's already here!"

That was true; the Eden looked up and around at the scene. Steel raining from the sky, and a towering cloud of nightmarish, stained glass darkness was erupting from where the corporate building once stood.

Killy looked back down at the Innocence, and opened the Eden's jaw to let a grinding, destructive voice boom from it, "I am going to kill it. Don't get in the way."

"Oh…?" The Innocence pursed her lips. "No you aren't. I'll stop you right here and now!" Suddenly--she jumped up, far up, flying into the air on glittering magical wings, twirling her halberd and drawing seals in the air with witchfire--

The Eden rose an arm to swat her, but she danced aside--the battle began.

Rays of witchfire shot from the Innocence's seals, splashing off the Eden's heavy armor, as Killy swung levers in their cockpit and danced their legs in their sheathes; their eyes dilated, and they grinned fiercely.

The Innocence flew around, arcing through the air while raining beams down on the Eden; the Eden leaped back, gaining distance, and released the support assault guns from its arms. Hardlight bullets rained out of them, pelting the Innocence as she ducked around, whirled through the air, bounced shells off magical barriers and parried them with her weapon.

"I bet you weren't expecting this!" She flew straight at the Eden and drew a seal with her halberd in shining witchfire--the spell resolved, and suddenly, it staggered and stumbled.

In its heartmount, Killy screamed as the connection between themself and their Eden was scrambled, the mesh forcefully torn-at and damaged.

The Innocence plunged in, spear wreathed in flames, and dove at the mech's leg--and exploded through it, a dart of molten force, laughing triumphantly.

Killy screamed again, in further pain, and the Eden shot towards the Innocence to pursue, wheeling a kick at her.

It was fast, unexpected--her eyes got wide as the incoming leg, a tower of hard metal, careened into her and flung her to the ground, scraping across its ashes and rocks and bloodying her form.

At last she came to a stop and looked up, frantic--but Killy wasn't paying attention to her. The Eden was looking towards the column of emanation coming from the mountaintop, where the Witch of Scripts was entering the world.

Killy felt their entire world focus to a single point, and a euphoria surged through them, not only at beating the Innocence but in anticipation of the next step.

They unfurled their wings and took to the sky, up to where the Witch awaited…

[banjjakz]

once upon a december (things i almost remember); hananene oneshot

On the first day of Christmas My true love sent to me: A partridge in a pear tree The wine glass slips from her left hand and crashes to the floor in an ear-shattering explosion. Dark red liquid – frigid and insidious – seeps between the gaps in her stockings, dyeing her toes crimson from the outside in. She can’t be bothered to cringe at the unpleasant sensation. No, Nene is more preoccupied with dropping the card, clutching her head, and letting out the first wail she’s released since last December.

(Or: Aoi went missing last Christmas, and the chilling bite of the new year rendered her case cold to the touch. This year, on December first, Nene opens an anonymous Christmas card to find a lock of deep purple hair. Terrified, jaded, and freshly incensed, she teams up with the boy next door to track down her best friend before it's too late.)

wc: ~9.7k warnings: horror; psychological thriller; kidnapping; gaslighting; implied drugging; murder mystery; stalking; manipulation; bad end

🖤 read on ao3 🖤

December is the coldest month.

December, for Nene, had not always been cold. December was once filled with warmth and laughter, joy and friction, a vibrant collage of pale golden sun leaking through the bleary overcast sky; beams of light bouncing from snow mound to snow mound in a grand display of merry acrobatics; a fireplace and a hearth and a cornucopia of store-bought curry, leftovers gifted generously by the neighbors, trials and many errors of family recipes lost in the muddled translation of time; cable-knit sweaters; worn leather boots; snowflakes on the tongue like a burst of magic spreading so cold, so rapidly across her body it threatened to burn her alive; and a friend, to join her in this winter wonderland.

December had not always been cold.

Nene, very desperately, tries to remind herself of that fact this year.

It certainly feels colder, but this is admittedly due in large part to her broken radiator. The same radiator she’s been meaning for months now to ask Minamoto Kou from across the street to come and tinker with. She doesn’t know why she keeps forgetting. She should have told him in April, when it first threw in the towel. Should have, should have, should have. Now it is December, and Nene shivers at her own dining table, like she’s seen a ghost. Now, it is December first, and she might as well have, because the ghosts of time’s past are beginning to claw their way from underneath her tissues flushed down the toilet, all her tears buried between threadbare pillowcases. Now, it is December first, and the skeletons in her closet begin to reanimate themselves, cracking their joints stiff from disuse, skulls grinning madly in sadistic preparation.

An anniversary requires fanfare, after all. Twenty-four days until the big event.

How, she thinks, numbly. How has it almost been a year? It’s been simultaneously the longest and yet the shortest expanse of time in her mortal experience of life. Just yesterday she’d been burying her face into Aoi’s neck, red-cheeked with laughter. Eons have passed since she last saw her best friend’s face.

Time works in funny ways when you’re depressed. So does depth perception, apparently; Nene almost brains herself skating across a haphazard patch of ice that runs jagged down her driveway. Her arms windmill, flailing wildly in an attempt to brace what she knows will be an inevitably nasty faceplant. Perfect. An amazing end to a fantastic day at the start of her favorite month of the year. Nene would cry, if she had any tears left to spare.

Someone above must get bored of watching her aimlessly struggle, because she’s able to snag ahold of the mailbox at the last second, effectively steadying her unsightly downfall. Dry, peeling fingers clutch at the hard metal tin with all the force of an animal cornered. It takes her a second to unclench, to exhale, to remember that she is no longer in peril. The tunnel vision fades. Her breathing evens out. The ringing in her ears subsides. She notices the meek red little flag, erect and upturned on the side of the mailbox, valiantly standing tall and bright amidst the grey dreary backdrop.

She hasn’t received mail in months.

Her bills are paid online, for the most part. She doesn’t have any close friends. Her family stopped trying to contact her months ago, when the cherry blossoms began to wilt in the storm drains. Now there are no fruit bearing trees, and Nene lives alone – truly alone – with no one to send her mail. No one she knows of, at least.

That last thought triggers something in the back of her brain, sharp and chilling and alarming all at once, a sensation she has not embraced for months now: self-preservation.

Suddenly anxious, Nene rips open the mouth of the metal box and peers inside. A lone ruby envelope greets her. Before she can think better of it, Nene snatches the thing and hastily fixes her mailbox to fit the lackluster, lonely image she’s more accustomed to: close-holed. Flag down.

She hustles up her front steps, huddled around the strange package like a mother protecting its wounded young. Her neighbors must think her insane, but Nene doesn’t care about that. She hasn’t cared since – well.

The house is cold, and dark. Shadows leap and jump in warm welcome as she meanders her way into the kitchen, flicking the right switch on the first try out of sheer muscle memory. All at once, her line of vision is illuminated in frosty fluorescents, rendering the pale wood and bloodless countertops an even more pallid hue. The dust that collects along the lone windowsill just above the sink unsettles itself at her arrival, motes floating benignly in the air, almost as though waving a shy little welcome home.

Her coat is shouldered to the tile floor. Her heels are kicked off somewhere near. The top two buttons of her work dress are popped open to allow for some breathing room. The bottle of wine she goes to uncork awaits her dutifully from the countertop, where she had uncorked it the day before, and the day before that, and even the day before that one. Tonight’s glass runs a little bit deeper, though. She has a feeling she might need it.

The first thing that strikes her as truly odd is the lack of a return address. She revolves the slim, rectangular envelope in one hand, inspecting it thoroughly from pristinely pressed edge to pristinely pressed edge, and yet she is unable to locate any address beyond her own, which is printed neatly in dark, black ink. If she didn’t know any better, she would’ve guessed it had been printed directly on the surface, what with how evenly the characters are spaced from each other. An errant smudge blurs the last zero on her prefecture code, however, and Nene deduces that this was hand-written and hand-mailed – by whom, she’s yet to uncover.

It should disturb her more than it actually does, this piece of mystery mail. A literal scarlet letter resting innocently enough in her lap, its insignia black as night, its arrival marked by the year’s darkest hour. These past eleven months have numbed her, she thinks ruefully. What’s frozen cannot feel.

At worst, it’s a lame little prank from some of the kids on her street. The adults know better than to prod at her, but she’s caught some of the junior high kids messing about on her lawn right around dusk, completely unaware that her dark windows do not denote vacancy. She’s the strange woman in the strange house at the end of the lane, she knows. Tragedy has painted her desolate. Maybe this is a note poking fun at her late age, her living in solace, perhaps even her style of dress, which is just as muted and bland as the rest of her general surroundings.

Maybe it’s an urban legend, placed in her mailbox to frighten her, boldly proclaiming that something terrible will happen in seven days if she doesn’t forward the message immediately.

Maybe the sender was one digit, one character off, and this envelope isn’t even hers to claim in the first place.

Unenthused and fairly exhausted, Nene feels nothing as she unhurriedly splices the red lip with her thumb.

Her immediate reaction is confusion. There is a Christmas card inside. Her family doesn’t celebrate the holiday. She doesn’t have any friends at work, or in her neighborhood that celebrate the holiday.

A prank, she reasons. It’s not a farfetched notion.

As she gingerly pulls the card out of its snug red outfit, she’s greeted with the sight of the Western caricature of a robust, profoundly smiling Santa Claus, who grins up at her from his boisterous perch atop a sleigh wealthy with presents. HO, HO, HO! Read the English characters emblazoned above his head, bright like headlights. She feels caught in their glare.

Yep. Definitely a prank.

Like ripping off a band-aid, Nene flips open the card in one swift, violent motion.

And her heart stutters to a standstill.

All around her, the house freezes in place; the dust-motes shrink back, captivated in disbelief, their once amicable air now petrified with the abrupt shift in the air; the shadows at her feet shrink back in empathy; and even the skeletons in her closet quiet their clamor for a handful of terrible, awful, painstakingly potent seconds.

A lock of hair is tucked gently into the spine of the Christmas card. A lock of hair Nene remembers brushing, braiding, caressing, adorning with clips and bows and ribbons and ties. A lock of hair Nene had watched as a child cascade down from the smooth, scarless expanse of an unblemished ivory neck, all the way down to an impossibly tapered waist, slim and cinched and imprinted on her living room couch, in her kitchen chair, in her bed. A soft lock of hair. A purple lock of hair. A fresh lock of hair.

(It still smells like her shampoo.)

The card is white and red and green and festive, with only the following words written as any kind of explanation:

On the first day of Christmas

My true love sent to me:

A partridge in a pear tree

The wine glass slips from her left hand and crashes to the floor in an ear-shattering explosion. Dark red liquid – frigid and insidious – seeps between the gaps in her stockings, dyeing her toes crimson from the outside in. She can’t be bothered to cringe at the unpleasant sensation.

No, Nene is more preoccupied with dropping the card, clutching her head, and letting out the first wail she’s released since last December.

The “gifts” continue to arrive, after that first fateful day.

Nene, in all her discombobulated panic, scrambled to look up the English text from which the sender was pulling. It was a Christmas carol, apparently. One that went on to detail twelve days of presents sent from a secret admirer to their ‘true love.’ In accordance with the rhyme, Nene received parcels for twelve days – each containing some remnant of the previous day, and a new addition to the mix.

They were all pieces of Aoi.

Locks of hair. Soiled socks. Broken bits of jewelry. The ribbon Nene gifted her as a birthday present two years ago. All of it intimate, all of it freshly pressed into an airtight Ziplock bag – and all of it smelling freshly and distinctly of Aoi. These keepsakes, Nene was convinced, were not coveted posthumously. Despite what the police department decreed, Nene knew eleven months ago what she knows now: Aoi is alive. She must be. She must be.

And her captor isn’t done with her yet.

As the week trickles through her ruddy, cracked, trembling fingers, Nene weighs her options. She could seek legal help once more, but she doesn’t know if she trusts them to do their job right. Not after they’d given up so easily, had let Aoi’s memory fade from their logs and legal books like the final wisps of a fire smudged out. No, she couldn’t go to the police. She couldn’t reach Aoi’s family, hasn’t been able to since the investigation closed out in January and the Akanes minced no words when they voiced their contempt – and their blame – for just who, exactly, was at fault for their daughter’s disappearance.

(“You lived with her,” Mrs. Akane had said, quietly, “and saw nothing?”)

There is nobody else on which Nene can rely, except herself.

She devises her plan on the eve of the twelfth night.

I’ll stay home from work, she reasons. Turn of all the lights. Close all the blinds. Pretend not to be home. And watch the mailbox like a hawk.

Worst comes to worst, the only person who graces her front lawn is a dutiful delivery man. But still, Nene finds that hard to believe; the packages that reach her are pristinely placed with care and precision, arriving on an individual, consistent, and daily basis. Surely the faults of the very human Japanese national mail system would have hit a snag at least once during this entire operation. As such, Nene is led to believe that the culprit is hand-delivering these dark little omens.

And she is going to catch them in the act.

That Friday is a slow one. Nene rises with the sun, or what little of it manages to peer past the caliginous cloud of fog that overcasts the city. She makes her coffee. She settles into her armchair – the one tucked into an obscure corner of the living room, just out of eyeshot from the street beyond her drawn curtains – and she waits. And waits.

And waits.

She is waiting for so long that it surprises her when the sun flirts with the horizon’s edge, dipping his does into dusky twilight. This is usually the time of day when she comes home to a new parcel.

Surely, they haven’t forgotten. It’s the grand finale, after all.

Something is decidedly different, then.

The time, unfortunately, does get the best of her. Despite her best efforts, Nene is powerless to the exhaustion of the week, the fatigue of remaining still and alert for the better part of twelve hours, and the draining anxiety that’s plagued her from the moment she’d received that first card. She’s drifting off before she can catch herself, floating aimlessly, blissfully in a dreamless scape, brought back to the world of the living by an offensive CLANG!

Immediately, Nene jerks awake, rattled.

God dammit. How long had she been out for?

Ears ringing, eyes wide and teary, Nene sits and stews in the silent dark of the house, straining her ears to sus out any more noise. It’s late, judging by the opaque black that coats the living room with a thick, ominous mood. Nobody on her street – not even the spunky kids – are out this late.

Creeeeeak…

The squeal is faint, but telltale. The sound of metal hinges whining in protest. The mouth of her mailbox opening. The mailbox.

Nene, with shaking hands, peels back the curtain just wide enough to peer out of the window.

A dark, shadowy figure is right there on her front lawn. Two arms outstretched into the rusty, tin cage.

Bingo.

She’s on her feet and out the door before she has time to second-guess herself. In that moment, she cannot see the consequences of her actions; rather, what plagues Nene’s mind the most is are the locks of deep amethyst hair, the fingernail cuttings, the socks, the accessories, the used tissues, the empty lipstick tubes, and everything else that has been sent in a boldfaced taunt to provoke Nene into the very same reckless action she has no choice but to take now.

For Aoi, her heart screams as she throws open her front door and barrels into the street, This is for Aoi.

“STOP RIGHT THERE,” exclaims Nene, projection boosted by the copious amounts of adrenaline running rapid like wildfire through her pulsing veins. It is a powerful yell, a wounded shriek, and it startles the hooded figure so badly that they stumble backwards in surprise, catching their footing right underneath the streetlamp. When they look up, the violent yellow lighting is enough to illuminate their face just enough for Nene to make out some key identifying features, but – wait – isn’t that –

“Yugi-san?”

The man across from her giggles nervously. “Hi, Yashiro. I am aware that this looks very bad.”

She blinks. “No shit.”

Yugi Amane, her next-door neighbor. The other black sheep of their strange little cul de sac. She’s spoken to him only briefly in passing, and each time was an oddly pleasant surprise. On one particularly noticeable occasion, he even helped her carry her groceries inside, and let her cry on his shoulder when the gallon of milk she’d lugged all the way from the grocery store did, in fact, burst all over her kitchen floor. He’d been kind. Offered to clean it up, and then fetched her some more the next day.

That was six months ago. They haven’t spoken since.

“Look,” he begins, frazzled, hands in the air as if to show he means no harm, “I’m not the creep you’re looking for. Believe me.”

“The creep I’m looking for?” Asks Nene, wary.

“You know… the… the guy? Who keeps stalking your mailbox?”

All the color drains from Nene’s face in an instant. “How do you know about—”

“I’m your next-door neighbor,” he scoffs, almost offended, “It would be stranger if I hadn’t noticed. He’s there every day, same time, hood up, face mask on. And, let’s be honest, Yashiro, you don’t have very many people over nowadays. Was I so wrong to be suspicious?”

“Excuse me?” Nene feels a vein threaten to burst from her forehead.

Yugi ignores her and barrels on. “So, I tried to catch him in the act tonight! Maybe rough him up a little bit! Teach him a lesson?”

“Teach him a lesson,” echoes Nene, hollowly. She eyes his body up and down. His five-foot-seven, rail-thin body, dwarfed by the egregious amounts of black fabric he’s swaddled himself in to fight against the cold. “You,” she repeats, just to clarify, “were going to teach him a lesson?”

“It’s the least I can do,” says Yugi, suddenly somber. “After all that’s happened.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“Not pity. Try ‘basic human decency.’”

“You are so—” Nene stops. Re-centers herself. “Right. It’s too cold out here for all this. Did you… would you want to… I mean—”

His face shouldn’t loom that brightly. Not out here, not in the deep bottomless dark of the December night. He’s all pale skin and round cheeks, elusive like the moon, marked by twin bright points of luminescent amber. They twinkle at her in a dazzlingly spot-on impression of starlight. They wink in and out of sight as they’re scrunched upwards by the force of a sly, boxy grin. They bore into her, chilling her to the bone, shining bright and merry all the while.

“Why, Yashiro, I thought you’d never ask.” The comment hangs in the air for one beat, two beats, until Yugi breaks the tension with a well-timed quip. “I’m freezing my ass off!”

“’Teach him a lesson,” grumbles Nene, already spinning on her heel to lead the odd young man through her front door. “I’ll teach you a lesson.”

“Hm? Did you say something?”

“No, nothing at all.”

Amane – as he’d told her in no uncertain terms to address him as (“it’s not like we’re strangers, now, are we?”) – sits next to her at the dining room table with a troubled look on his face. The large, even spread of dark mahogany has functioned as her drawing board for the past week; laid out in two neat, even rows are every envelope, card, and keepsake she’s received thus far. Amane studies the twelfth card, which arrive in a small box in lieu of the paper manila envelopes Nene had become accustomed to. There was too much of Aoi to contain in a simple slip, this time.

“Hm,” hums the dark-haired boy, lip caught between his teeth as he studies the contents. “And you’re positive all of this is hers?”

Nene jerks back, as if slapped. “How could it not be?”

“What exactly is your plan, Yashiro?”

He’s standing up, now, svelte figure made even slimmer by the all-black sweater and jeans combination that hangs off of him like dripping gloom. Amane begins to circle the table, socked feet thumping gently, quietly, soundlessly against the wooden floorboards. Nene nearly thinks him to be a specter, floating effortlessly through the thick air, making maddening paces around her. “You charged at me with no weapon to defend yourself, no phone to call for help, nothing in your arsenal except eleven months of pent up hurt.”

She wants to get angry. It’s her knee-jerk response nowadays, and the things he is saying are out of line. They’re blunt, they’re insensitive, and—

Worst of all?

They’re true.

Amane’s slow revolution stops right behind the axis of her chair. He can’t see her bitten lip from her, her watering eyes, her hot cheeks. She wonders what he’d say. She sends a silent thanks that she’s shielded from his calculating view.

“I’m not trying to be mean,” murmurs Amane, quietly. Nene can tell he’s being honest. “I’m trying to prepare you.”

“Prepare me?”

Amane steps into her periphery, then, silently urging her to look towards him instead of hiding behind the safe veneer of her hair. “The world can be cruel. You’re no stranger to that, Yashiro. When Akane-san left, it was hard for you. We all saw it. I saw it. I saw you.”

Nene looks up at him.

His voice is strange, affected in a way that Nene would have never thought to expect from her neighbor. The guy who let her cry over spilled milk, smearing her snot and tears all along the crisp lines of his nice button-down shirt. The guy who smiles at her – who has always smiled at her – when she was out and about in the neighborhood. The guy who never crossed the sidewalk when he saw her coming. The guy who never told his kids to stay away from Yashiro-san, the woman with the missing roommate. The woman whom tragedy seems to tail like a hound after its master.

“I saw you,” continues Amane, “and it hurt me to watch you go through something like that.”

He is pale, he is wan, and he is brightly flushed in the middle of her dining room, Sitting on her table. Fiddling nervously with the hem of his worn sweater.

She doesn’t know what to say. The words get caught in her throat, blocked by the lump that grows bigger and bigger with each word that comes tumbling out of Amane’s stupidly perfect lips.

“Let me help you.” His face turns fixed, resolute. “Anything I can do to be of assistance. Whatever you need, I’m here for.”

“But why?”

“I told you, already. It upsets me when you’re upset. I don’t like seeing you like that.”

“And when have you ever ‘seen’ me,” scoffs Nene, but it’s mostly to detract from the tears trickling down her cheeks.

Amane wipes them away with the pad of his thumb so impossibly gently it nearly hurts. “All the time, Yashiro.” His touch grounds her – or, rather, she’s being sucked into it, forced to lean on the first scrap of stability she’s been offered in nearly a calendar year. Where she is weak, and greedy for more, he is kind, and benevolent enough to offer her his comfort.

Surely, there must be a catch. Surely, she’s going to regret this.

Out of the corner of her eye, Nene spots the errant glint of one of Aoi’s favorite bracelets. It rests atop the card for the fifth day, along with a small mountain of her other personal effects, some of which Nene can recount the stories behind. Those earrings are from the boutique in Harajuku we visited on a weekend trip. She’s used that same brand of dental floss for years, now, ever since we were kids. I gave her that hairclip, I bought her that lipstick, I used to clip her nails for her when she was too tired to do it.

The loss hits her anew, driving her face further into the palm of Amane’s hand. He’s cooing something or other, his carefully crafted words spun like candy floss, but they fall upon deaf ears. All Nene can think of are the past twelve days, the past eleven months, the past lifetime she’d taken for granted with her best friend, and the ticking doomsday clock that lies ahead of her, counting down to one of the worst anniversaries Nene has ever had the displeasure of celebrating.

For Aoi. This is for Aoi.

It must be.

It will be.

The dust had nearly settled.

The last of the moving trucks pulled out of the driveway, leaving the two young women to their brand-new, freshly stocked, Real Adult House. This was a first for the both of them – a first that they were delighted – and purposeful – in sharing together.

It was an unseasonably warm autumn afternoon. As such, Aoi thought it appropriate to pour some lemonade into a pair of matching glasses, even while a litter of cardboard boxes crowded every conceivable surface.

“Oh, let’s just relax a minute, Nene. Un-packing can wait until we catch our second wind, hm?”

“I don’t know,” said Nene, taking Aoi’s offered glass all the same. “There’s so much to do…”

“Stop fretting. You’ll get wrinkles.”

“Ha-ha, very funny. Little too late to be worrying about that.”

“You shouldn’t be worrying about anything. We’re finally home. We finally made it. How do you feel, love? Talk to me.”

Nene swirled her lemonade and worried her teeth at the rim, the dull clink reverberating in the otherwise silent house. Her gaze draped lazily over the wooden banisters, the charming dark, earthy tones of the first floor, all of it bathed in the gorgeous amber glow of near-dusk. The windows had a lovely view, but they were rather large – they’d need to buy some curtains.

“The neighborhood is nice. Well groomed.”

Aoi, it seemed, was pleased by this answer. “It’s not the only thing well-groomed around here.”

“That was terrible.”

“I know.”

“…Who is it?”

“One of our neighbors,” Aoi giggled into her lemonade as she took a dainty sip. “I swear, he was ogling me when we were helping the movers. Like he just couldn’t look away!”

They never can, thought Nene, bitterly. “Which one?”

“Across the street. They’re two brothers, I think. The older one has got such a piercing stare. I’m not going to lie, if I didn’t know any better, I’d be a little frightened.”

“I’m sure.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Nene. You’re going to find friends, here, too! And then we’ll settle down and live our happy little lives and be best friends forever. Don’t you think so?”

“… Yeah. That sounds nice, Aoi.”

“Of course it does, it’s our dream! Or don’t you remember?”

“I do, I do.”

“Good. Now, why don’t we go door to door and introduce ourselves? The old-fashioned way!”

Ten days.

They’d had to wait until they both had a day off from work to reconvene. As such, it is now the fifteenth of December, approximately four in the morning, and Nene is parked outside of a non-descript storage facility. She’s far away enough to ward off any suspicion, but close enough to carefully track the movements of each patron passing through the massive revolving door.

“Look alive!”

Amane crows from the passenger seat, shoulder-checking her hard enough that Nene is jolted out of her momentary reverie. “No sleeping on the job, silly.”

“’The job,’” scoffs Nene, “Funny you should mention one of those. There’s no earthly way you’re this awake at four in the morning. What is it that you do again, Amane?”

“Property management out in the banks,” Amane rattles off, dismissively, before leaning forward in his seat. “Ooh, now look who finally decided to show up. Closer, Yashiro, or you’re going to miss him!”

The ‘him’ in question is Minamoto Teru.

Amane asked her to conjure up a list of potential suspects. (“Spare no one. It is, unfortunately, those closest to us who pose the most threat. Y’know?”) So, Nene thought back to simpler times, where she and Aoi would sit and gossip on lazy Sunday afternoons about work, family, and the odd faces around town. One odd face always managed to steadily reoccur in every single one of Aoi’s anecdotes.

The elder Minamoto and his kid brother lived directly across the street from Nene, in one of the more traditionally styled houses on the block. Incense regularly burned out front, and the entirety of their porch was adorned with wind chimes, along with various other little tools and trinkets that she could not for the life of her even begin to decipher the purpose or use of. She’d never been spiritual – neither had Aoi – and so the orthodoxy of the Minamoto household was already rather unsettling.

What really drove the wedge in further was Minamoto’s penchant for staring.

There were many a night where Aoi would complain of a restless sleep, chalked up to the sensation of being watched. Nene – in her thoughtlessly callous manner – dismissed this often as a symptom of Aoi’s inflated ego. What Nene now realizes she’d failed to take into account is the fact that Aoi’s bedroom window peered straight into the second story of the Minamoto abode. The distance between the two houses was not that large; if they wanted to, they could push up the glass and shout to communicate.

Naturally, Minamoto is number one on Nene’s list of persons of interest.

After all, there’s something to be said for handsome, charming men with a seemingly endless knowledge of social niceties. Minamoto had never been anything short of polite to both her and Aoi, but the more that Nene reflects on their past interactions, the less confidence she holds in the sincerity of Minamoto’s respectful manner.

Even now, as she watches him stride through an otherwise empty parking lot, large packing bin held effortlessly on top of his right shoulder, his striking features are hard. Intense. Laser-focused. A far cry from the friendly smile he projects at home.

Beside her, Amane whistles low and long. “He doesn’t look so happy.”

“No,” Nene murmurs, agreeing. “I wonder what’s in the bin?”

“Well, it’s hard to say, but…”

He cuts himself off as they both watch it happen: Minamoto hefts the bin into the bed of his truck, and pays no mind to the shiny, metallic item that slips out from beneath the lid. It winks underneath the moonlight, practically inviting the two voyeurs to come and investigate its properties once Minamoto pulls out of the parking lot and off into the impending rising sun. As soon as he’s gone, they slip out of the car and peel into the parking lot, harping in on the lost effect.

Nene’s breath stutters in her throat as she gets a good look at it.

“Oh my God…”

A phone. The case is floral and pastel colored. Feminine. The most popular model and brand of last year’s winter.

But most importantly: it is Aoi’s phone.

Nene would recognize those scratches on the screen anywhere; she’d been apart of nearly all the stories that accompany them. Everything, down to the worried edge of the case where the design fades away, rubbed one time too many by Aoi’s anxious pinky finger, is familiar to Nene in a way that smarts freshly. It is astounding, how every piece of her best friend lives on so very vividly, even as the woman herself continues to elude Nene’s ever-desperate grasp.

“Is that--?” Asks Amane, but his tone betrays comprehension. Nene’s reaction is enough to confirm his suspicions. She presses the power button and nearly wails when it won’t turn on. She begins to spam it, frantically, her thumb coming to jam the home button as well in a cacophonous roar of clicks. She looks crazed. She knows. Yet she cannot bring herself to let go of the phone; she cannot stop hoping that maybe if she presses harder, or faster, the screen will light up and show her the lockscreen photo of her and Aoi sipping hot cocoa in front of the fireplace, taken just days before the unthinkable happened.

Before she can fall any further into disarray, two gloved hands find purchase on her shoulders. Nene belatedly realizes that she’s been shaking. Violently.

“Yashiro,” croons Amane, with infinite patience. “It’s not going to turn on.”

“I-it has to, it has to, it has to—”

“It won’t,” says Amane, not unkindly. He smooths his hands down her arms and comes to rest directly behind her, warm chest to her hunched back. “Can you feel me breathing?”

Nene nods jerkily.

“Try and copy it. Come on. I know you can do it, there you go. Just like that. You’re doing so well.”

The praise washes over her like a hot sauna over old bones. Just how long has it been, since someone has spoken to her like this? Has touched her gently, with intent, with purpose, with fingers so reverent she feels like she’s being worshipped? Has hugged her close to their beating heart and let her count her breaths to its steady rhythm?

In her rational adult brain, Nene knows that the man behind her is only doing what’s necessary to bring her down from what was gearing up to be a full-blown panic attack.

But in her fantastical, escapist brain – the one that commandeers the reign in times of duress, that whispers sweetly treacherous words? Nene cannot help but to allow herself to fall into the daydream that is being held in the arms of a man who cares for her; who camps out with her at four in the morning on a Saturday; who stands with her in empty, poorly-lit parking lots and sways their conjoined bodies back and forth, side to side, like the benign ebbing and flowing of waves at sea.

When Nene can open her eyes again, she finds that it has begun to snow.

Little flakes drift down to collect on her eyelashes, on the crown of her head, on the tip of her red-dusted nose and cheeks. She resists the sudden, childish urge to stick out her tongue.

“Better?” Whispers Amane. The steam from his breath lingers so closely that she watches as it wafts past her ear and out into the dark expanse of the night. Mutely, Nene nods.

“I told you, I don’t like seeing you upset. I’m going to make sure that this year is better for you. Okay? I promise. You can hold me to it.”

“You barely know me,” says Yashiro, finally regaining some clarity. Although she was present for all of it, finding herself entangled in Amane’s arms is somewhat of a shock, now. She’s speaking to a flickering lamp post in the distance as she continues. “Why are you doing all this, Amane?”

A humorless chuckle leaves his mouth. He breathes it into her hair. “Why do you think?”

The night is cold, the night is dark. Nene takes in a lungful of frigid December air and relishes in the way it burns the back of her throat. It feels like a brand, much in the same way that Amane’s arms do as they snake around her own, ever tightening.

“I’m going out!”

“Where? With who?”

Aoi stopped in her tracks, heels in hand, by the front door. “Aw, is Nene-chan worried about me? I can handle myself, you know.”

“I know,” grumbled Nene, indignantly. The stew she’d been working at for ages gurgled at her lethargically. “Just. Wanted to be safe. That’s all.”

“I will be. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know when I’m there and when I’m on my way home.”

“Is there any particular reason why you won’t tell me where you’re going, Aoi?”

Aoi’s face was wry as she finally slipped the last inch of her tiny foot into her gracefully lifted shoes. She looked like a vision – but she always did. That was just her. “You won’t like my answer.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Don’t wait up, okay? I’ll be fine!”

“Ah—Aoi, wait—at least take a jacket! It’s getting colder these days—!”

But she was already out of the door before Nene could finish.

Seven days.

It’s getting harder. Harder to keep up with work, harder to keep up with bills, harder to get out of bed on the weekends to make herself something other than instant meals and refried rice.

This time of year has always been overstimulating for Nene, but now that so much of the holiday season is imprinted in her mind with memories of bereavement, there is very little Nene can experience that doesn’t send her back to a different place in time entirely.

She begins to space out in department stores, in konbinis, in supermarkets, when she spots something that resembles Aoi’s wardrobe a little too closely. When she comes to, she realizes she has no idea how much time has passed, or if she’s someone has tried to speak to her. It’s frightening. It’s numbing. It should be sobering, but the closer the anniversary date looms, the harder Nene finds it to wade through the waking world.

And through it all, of course, is Amane: cooking her dinner when she lets slip she hasn’t had much besides energy drinks and protein bars; picking up groceries when she cannot bear to take another step outside of her house; running errands on her behalf like it’s his civic duty; keeping her company while she knits, or reads, or even as she sleeps, so that she is never alone; and even when he isn’t at her immediate side, he’s just one door down. One knock away. Less than one hundred feet apart from her at all times. Always so close. Always.

Sometimes, he behaves… strangely. Erratically. On these days, Nene will hear him talking to no one in particular in the next room. He is louder, too, and proceeds with a manic edge. He laughs too hard. He laughs at the wrong jokes. Nene considers that she is not the only one with dark secrets, with loss brimming at the core of her being.

In her state of gradually building disarray, Nene finds it especially hard to keep track of her personal belongings. It starts with harmless items, things she can easily replace: her toothbrush; her hair comb; a few pairs of socks; a vial of nail polish. Although she swears she puts them back in their respective places, still they vanish into thin air, without a trace.

“Amane,” she hums, tonelessly, “the next time you go to the store, could you pick up some more floss?”

He snorts, like she’s just told him a funny joke. “Again? We should keep a running tally, at this point.”

Nene sinks down to rest her head on the kitchen table. “I don’t want to hear it, Amane. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” groans Nene, miserably. “It’s like… I don’t know…I’m just sort of. Floating. Through life. You know?”

She peers up at him through her crossed arms and almost chokes on her own gasp. In the dim lighting of the kitchen, there stands two Amanes. The twilight of the late afternoon provides a sinister backdrop for the sight that Nene’s mind cannot even begin to comprehend. The two Amanes are grinning down at her, eyes bright, mouth wide open. And then she blinks, and they merge as one, and suddenly Amane is crouching down to her level, nose on her arm, pupils boring holes into her own.

He stares at her in silence for a few moments. This close, Nene can smell him – neutral, clean, yet faintly metallic. “What would make you feel better?”

“I just want her back,” Nene says, so very quietly. “Getting Aoi back would be the best Christmas present ever.”

Amane, Nene has noticed, for all his enthusiasm and passion for their investigatory activities, doesn’t appreciate it when Nene talks about Aoi. For whatever reason, his face falls flat, his eyes, dull, and the shift in his energy is so sudden it threatens to give her whiplash.

As the sun finally sets, it is just the two of them illuminated by a small table lamp several paces away. Amane is aglow with orange light. It bounces off of his cheekbones sparingly, rapidly. He’s drawn gauntly like this, a vision of nightmare in her mundane little kitchen. Golden eyes half-lidded and simmering with…

“Amane…”

“If that’s what you want,” he says, finally. “I’ll make it happen.”

“You can’t—don’t say something like that. It’s not funny.”

“I’m not trying to make you laugh.”

“… Promise me, then. Promise we’ll find her for Christmas.”

“I promise, Yashiro.” He hooks their pinkies together with a grim smile. “I promise you’ll get to see her again.”

Minamoto Teru stops by two days later.

He has the audacity to stroll up to her front door, put his dirty hands on her doorbell, and summon her outside where he awaits, a tray of what he announces to be baked goods occupying his right hand.

“Losing a loved one can make the holiday season burdensome. Please remember that you are in all of our thoughts, Yashiro.”

She slams the door in his face.

How dare he? How dare he? How dare he come onto her property and offer her his stupid fucking food and say – that – knowing damn well what he’s done. He is so sick. He is so sick. He is twisted and evil and Nene cannot breathe she is so livid. She rushes upstairs, little feet pounding hard on the wood, and throws herself into her bedroom, slamming the door shut in blind rage.

The collapse onto the floor is natural; her knees fail her and she plummets onto the carpet, fingers scrabbling blindly as she lets out a frustrated sob. The devil is her neighbor and he smiles in her face, invites himself to her house, and speaks of Aoi as if he doesn’t know full and well about her loss.

Delusional with upset, Nene fishes her phone from her pocket and dials the first number in her favorites. She expects the mindless ringing, the numbing dial tone, the familiar error message telling her that her call cannot be completed at this time.

What Nene does not expect, however, is the faint ringtone that wafts through the wall.

No, she thinks, panicked, I must have finally lost it.

Still, Nene crawls slowly, hesitantly, to the opposite wall – the wall which conjoins hers and Aoi’s rooms. As she makes her way nearer, the ringtone grows louder, easier to discern from the rapid pounding of her own overexerted heart. She strains to make heads or tails of it over the pounding in her ears, the rushing of her blood, the adrenaline buzzing through her veins. She crawls, on her hands and knees, unsure of if her feet could even carry her through a moment like this.

There are no thoughts in her mind. She is suspended in disbelief. Pressing her ear against the thin wall, she confirms that yes – that is Aoi’s ringtone. One of the prettier pre-set sounds on her model. Nene would recognize it anywhere. She recognizes it now, with her pulse in her throat.

Her mind is made up in the blink of an eye. Swiftly, silently, Nene rises from her muddled heap on the ground and moves towards her own bedroom door, tactfully twisting the knob and slipping through the miniscule sliver she creates for herself. Before she can think about what, exactly, may greet her, she’s shoving open the door to Aoi’s room and barging in.

The ringing grows louder, louder, and louder, until she hears it in her eardrums, can feel it in the heavy pit of her stomach.

“What are you doing in here, Amane,” breathes Nene.

He’s – here. Sat cross-legged in the middle of the room. Her room. Her phone is in his lap. Turned on. Miraculously functional. And ringing.

(Hadn’t Nene stored it in her dresser, the night they discovered it?)

“What do you mean, Yashiro?”

“Why are you—in here—”

“Didn’t you invite me over today?”

Did she? “Did I?”

“You wanted me to look for clues.”

“Clues…” repeats Nene, dumbly. She brings a hand to her head and massages her temple, as if that’s going to jog her memory. Why can’t she break through the heavy fog permeating her mind, obscuring from her even the most basic of mental passageways?

What had she done all day? Where had she been?

If Minamoto Teru never came by, would Nene have awoken from her stupor?

“The phone…”

“You gave it to me,” Amane reminds her helpfully. “I told you I found a way to unlock it.”

She considers, for a brief moment, arguing. She wants to tell him that she doesn’t remember anything he’s saying. The past twenty days have all been a blur, exacerbated by Amane’s introduction into her otherwise benignly lugubrious existence. Just what is his real motive, here? Why insert himself into her personal affairs after months of watching from afar? What does he know that she doesn’t? The questions swirl inside of her, ready to leap forth in a vitriolic outburst, but one good look at Amane stops her dead in her tracks.

This… is one of his strange days.

The days where he acts like a stranger wearing Amane’s skin. Jerky movements. Pitchy laughter. Shrunken pupils. He smiles innocently up at her, nearly childlike in its simplicity, and chills erupt along the rigid line of the back of her neck.

“Okay.”

“Are you hungry?”

“…Yes.”

“I’ll go make you something!”

“I can help.”

“No,” says not-Amane. “Let me.”

“Okay.”

“Okay!”

He brushes past her on his way out of the door, pocketing the cellphone as he descends the stairs.

Nene realizes that she probably should have asked for it back.

The next four days are something out of a nightmare.

Nene is barely lucid for any of it. Bits and fragments of her days find her like bottles drifting aimlessly onto the shores of a deserted beach, with nobody there to properly receive the message.

Amane had to leave for the weekend – something about business and taking care of the properties he manages – and so Nene is left to her own devices in one of the worst states she’s found herself in. She has to call in sick from work. She can’t go out. She can barely make it from the dining room table to her bedroom without some form of setback.

As always, Amane seems to have been prepared for this. He left her packaged meals before he left, encouraging her to eat to her hearts content. He cooks for her all the time. He is very kind to her, even if sometimes Nene is a little frightened by just how far his kindness extends.

The food is good, but her condition gets worse. She doesn’t call an ambulance, because she doesn’t know what she would tell them. I’m sleepy and depressed and obviously dying because of this.

Very quickly, reality begins to blend with her dreamscape. She sees Aoi at the bottom of the stairs during the nighttime hours. She wakes up to a voicemail at three in the morning left by an anonymous caller; when she clicks on it, she hears her best friend’s bloodcurdling shrieks of terror. Minamoto Teru haunts her, stalks her property, prowls around her house like a predator studying its prey. Is that it? Is he mulling over how he’s going to catch his next victim? She refuses to answer the door when he knocks – not even when he shouts that it’s important, not even when he says that she isn’t safe. What does he know? He’s the one who—

She’s in the bathroom, sifting through the cabinets, throwing out decrepit old orange pill bottles. She looks up and Amane is behind her in the mirror. She blinks in surprise and he’s gone again. The back of her neck is still warm. Nene wonders how he always manages to get into her house—

She’s in the garden. Do they have a garden? Aoi always wanted a garden. She’s in the maybe-garden and she’s planting a radish, only it’s not a radish, it is a pale, thin, slender arm with fingernails painted an extravagant lavender hue, and Nene is powerless to do anything other than shovel more dirt onto the appendage until it disappears from sight completely. She tries to dig up the body, but her hands don’t move fast enough. She should have done more—

She’s in her bed, and she’s being jolted awake. Truly awake. Nene tries to scream, but a gloved hand covers her mouth.

Amane is leant over her.

“Yashiro,” he says, gravely, “I found her.”

Wordlessly, she nods, once. Hard. Resolute. She went to bed in her day clothes (time had long since stopped meaning much of anything to her) and so there is little she needs to do to get ready to accompany Amane. Shoes. Coat. It’s dark in the house, what time is it? It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters, except that she is finally – finally – going to be reunited with Aoi.

Before Nene can get too far out of the door, Amane draws her back in with one arm, bringing them forehead to forehead, nose to nose, breathing in one another’s air. They are so close that Nene feels it when his heartrate picks up as he caresses her cheek.

“I did this for you,” he reminds her. “It’s all for you.”

“I know,” says Nene, lips pressed into his palm. “Thank you, Amane.”

“Always. Come on, let’s go.”

“What day is it today?”

“Christmas,” Amane says from the driver’s seat. “I heard your wish loud and clear.”

Not for the first time that morning, Nene’s gratitude is intermingled with an underlying sense of insecurity. She pushes it down. Amane would never tell anything but the truth, and he’s the only person who cared enough to take Nene seriously and help her find Aoi. If anything, Nene owes Amane more than she could ever possibly give.

Perhaps this is why she doesn’t question him, when he tells her that the way to Aoi is long, and she must rest beforehand.

Perhaps this is why she doesn’t object to taking the bottle of water he hands back to her, with claims of concern for her health.

Perhaps this is why when she wakes up hours later to sand and water surrounding the car, she trusts Amane when he says to get out and follow him.

Perhaps this is why she trails dutifully behind him, slipping through nooks and crannies, hustling through underbrush, scurrying through nature’s back alleys, relying on him to direct their path.

Perhaps this is why, when they come upon the secluded one-story cabin, she clings to him as they enter inside, her fists white knuckled and tense as they dig into the back of his black jacket.

“Is the—” her fearful whisper splits in half right down the middle. “Is Minamoto here?”

Amane is silent for a beat. “No,” he finally says, without turning to look at her. “So this is the perfect time, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Nene agrees. “It’s really… wow, it’s really normal-looking in here. I can’t believe someone like him can have a cabin out in the banks, all furnished and decorated or whatever, and then he just – does these horrible, awful things. It’s sick. He’s disgusting.”

Again, Amane is silent.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” sniffs Nene, hot on Amane’s heels as he opens some sort of trap door and begins to climb down a concrete ladder. “Scum like him are so good at pretending to be normal, likable. But it’s all a ruse. Just to get close enough to their victims. And then they strike.”

“Strike?”

“Well, sure. They… they take people.”

“How?”

Nene’s brow furrows. This sure is a long way down. Some light would help guide her way. “How? Um, well. I guess he would have lured Aoi in with a false sense of security, right? Made her feel nice, take her out, call her pretty, that sort of thing. And just when she was getting really comfortable, he probably…” Nene chokes. She doesn’t like thinking about this. “… he probably tied her up and threw her in his truck and drove all the way out here. She probably woke up alone – cold, scared, on Christmas. He would have dragged her inside, and down all these stairs, and then he’d… have his way with her.”

“Are you sure?”

Nene nearly stops mid-climb. “Excuse me?”

“Must it be so violent, Yashiro?” Amane must be significantly farther down than her – his voice sounds odd. “Why couldn’t he have knocked her out for it?”

“That’s unrealistic.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. What if she woke up before they got down to – here?”

“What if she followed him willingly?”

“I can’t imagine her doing that. Aoi’s too smart.”

“What if she thought someone was in danger?”

Nene is quickly starting to lose patience with this pointless conversation. “But who, though?”

The moment her feet hit the ground, she’s seized suddenly from behind. Nene struggles in the pitch black darkness, shrieking out for Amane, but her cries for help are rendered defunct with the man himself croons low in her ear:

“You.”

Oh.

Oh.

Her body goes limp with the realization. Her hands poised for attack slacken on his forearms. Her kicking legs sputter out weakly, until they drag lamely on the dirt floor. Her unseeing eyes – glassy, watery with emotion – flutter, stunned.

She cannot speak. She cannot move. All Nene can do is whimper, now properly ensnared in the spider’s web.

“I’d never hurt you though, Yashiro.” Amane’s voice is sing-songy, light and airy, flirtatious and fun as he drags her body through what feels like an endless array of catacombs. “Would never hurt a hair on your pretty little head, hm?”

Oh my god.

“The—the phone, Minamoto—”

“I planted it there, dummy.”

“In his personal storage unit?”

“People really do a terrible job at creating reliable passwords and pins nowadays.”

They take a turn, and there’s distant light up ahead. Nene tries to hone in on it, but it’s multicolored, and focusing on it for too long makes her vision blur. “Why Aoi? If you wanted me, then why did you take her?”

“She was a distraction. She was holding you back.”

“Holding me back from what?”

“Me.”

The light grows nearer. Now that Nene no longer has to strain her eyes to parse out the source, she can recognize that the forceful glimmer is actually—

A Christmas tree.

It illuminates the dank cellar just enough for Nene to look around and take in the chilling sight. A decrepit armchair with a few springs popping out of the seat sits perpendicular to the tree, with some poor excuse of a throw hung over the back of it. Mysterious stains litter the upholstery in a disturbing splatter pattern that she must look away from, if only to preserve her sanity.

The rug is dingy and cheap, if not outright taken right from the dumpster of some overstocked department store. Leaves and brush still cling to its prickly surface. Where the hell did it come from? How did he drag it all the way down here? Is this supposed to be some sick attempt at a heartwarming Christmas scene? Nene feels bile creeping up the back of her throat.

Now that Amane has brought her up close and personal, she makes the mistake of looking underneath the tree.

“Holy fucking Christ.”

“The ‘best Christmas present ever,’ right, Yashiro?” Amane’s voice jolts her back to reality. Nene startles in his arms and he lets her go, watching fondly as she stumbles around like a newborn fawn, collapsing next to the limp hand farthest away from the tree. The purple nail polish is still fresh, still bright; so bright, in fact that Nene can glimpse her own horrified face in the distorted reflection.

“Merry Christmas.”

This can’t be real.

Nene looks up and sees double. The two Amanes are laughing – absurdly, ridiculously – with arms outstretched and cheeks flushed pink. “I got you the best present ever, right? You like it, right? Right?”

“R-Right,” gasps Nene, because what else is there to do?

“December can be warm. December can be bright. I can’t wait to spend all mine with you, Yashiro. I’ll make sure you’re happy. You know I hate it when you’re upset.”

Curled next to the tree, clutching the cold, lifeless hand of her best friend, Nene smiles. It is watery and it is wobbly, but it is a smile and she knows, now, that there is no other option. “Thank you, Amane. I’m r-really happy.”

“Of course.” He crouches down to her level, and brushes the sweaty, tangled hair from in front of her face. “Anything for you. Merry Christmas, Yashiro. I love you. I always have, and I always will.”

An incessant pounding at the door awoke Aoi in the dead of night.

She was not above admitting it – Nene returning home to spend Christmas with her family left Aoi alone in their brand-new house. She felt odd, and a little strange, by herself in such an unfamiliar environment. Hopefully all of the new-neighbor activities she’d participated in would shield her from any misfortune – at least until Nene returned.

She hurried down the stairs with urgency, in fear of some poor soul needing help on Christmas night of all nights.

When she wrenched open the door, she was met with the sight of… their next door neighbor? Yugi Amane, if she remembered correctly. Before she could ask him what on Earth brought him there so late, he began to speak frantically.

“Yashiro is in danger! You’ve got to come, quickly!”

“Danger?” Mused Aoi. “I haven’t heard anything from her.”

“I know.” Amane held up a blinged-out phone, adorned with two charming hamster clip-on charms. “I found this at the end of the street.”

“Oh, God.”

“Please, come with me. And hurry. I don’t know how much time we have.”

“Oh, God, okay, okay. I’m coming.”

And so Aoi went, with no knowledge of what was in store; with no clue that they were not the only new tenants in town, and that in fact Amane moved in one month before they’d settled down, entirely on purpose, after he’d seen the activity in Nene’s bank account and connected the dots to their brand new location. And so Aoi followed him, wholly unaware that if anyone knew where Nene was, it would in fact be Amane, as he did, in fact, know where she was, as he knew where she was all the time.

And so Aoi believed him, crawling willingly into the spider’s web.

Aoi was not a stupid woman. Aoi could not ignore the red flags that waved overhead, announcing the imperfections of such a convenient danger. But if her friend was truly in distress…

For Nene, she thought. This is for Nene.

[treesunlimitedllc]

Fastest Growing Trees for NJ Landscapes

Beautiful and majestic trees take time to grow and mature but not if you know the right kind of specimen for your space. If you have been looking at your landscape this spring and wishing you had mature trees for shade, privacy or added beauty, then check out our list of the top five fastest growing trees for your New Jersey landscape.  It will help you decide how to increase your property’s value, attractiveness and efficacy.

Eucalyptus Tree

Grows and average of 3-6 feet a year with a mature height of about 40 feet and width of 15 feet.

This tree is drought tolerant and keeps its leaves throughout winter which means no leaves to rake and some color for your winter landscape.

Eucalyptus Trees repels mosquitoes, fleas and ticks.

This tree enjoys full sun and will provide a better canopy if it is in the sun for most of the day.

It is best to plant this tree away from other plants in your yard because of its shallow roots that will take water and other nutrients from its neighboring plant life.

Weeping Willow

One of the most popular shade trees because of its sweeping branches and long slender leaves that create cooler temperatures under the tree to enjoy and relax.

Weeping Willow trees are thought of as the earliest detectors of spring as they typically begin to show yellow and green blooms as early as February.

When fully grown a Weeping Willow tree will be about 30 to 40 feet tall with a width of 30 feet.

This tree will grow about 24 inches a year which will provide a considerable amount of shade and beauty to your property almost immediately.

Weeping Willow trees are perfect for wet areas in a yard or near ponds and lakes.

Eastern White Pine

Will reach a mature height of 50 to 80 feet tall with a growing rate of over 24 inches per year.

This tree is tolerant of all soil types and can grow in acidic, moist, wet and rocky soils but it need full sunlight for at least 4 hours a day to reach its full potential.

Eastern White Pines have long blue-green needles and produce brown cones with smooth scales that will attract various species of wildlife to your landscape.

This tree transplants well and can be used on your landscape as a windbreak which aides in cutting down on heating/cooling cost inside of your home.

Eastern White Pines can be sensitive to air pollution and compacted soil so planting this tree away from the road and checking your landscape for erosion can minimize these issues.

Leyland Cypress

These trees transplants well and are often used to create privacy from neighboring yards because it grows quickly and will form a type of green wall when planted near each other.

Leyland Cypress trees grow up to 120 feet high and 15 feet wide but they can be pruned and trimmed into a variety of pleasing shapes to keep with the ascetic of your lawn.

This tree will grow about 24 inches a year and can be transplanted into your landscape with ease even a more mature age than other trees on this list.

Leyland Cypress trees will grow best in full sun and also become fuller and taller at a faster rate in these conditions.

Tulip Poplar Tree

This tree is considered both an ornamental and shade tree because of its fullness and beauty.

Tulip trees will grow to a height of about 70 to 90 feet with a growing rate of about 24 inches per year.

This type of tree need sun for about six hours a day but is tolerant to drought conditions.

Although you won’t see the tree’s tulip shaped leaves the first few years of its bloom, the wait will be worth it as it blooms into a true eye-catcher in the spring and summer months.

October Glory Maple

The October Glory maple grows at a fast rate, maxing out at up to 24 inches per year. At full maturity, this tree reaches a soaring height of 40-50 feet tall.

The October Glory Maple tree features large, dark green leaves that grow up to 6 inches in length. Its leaves turn a brilliant orange/red in the late fall and add a pop of color with its red blooms in the spring.

The October glory maple grows best in acidic, moist, well-drained, or clay soils. For optimal growth, it needs full sun for at least 4 hours each day.

Cleveland Pear Tree

The Cleveland Pear is a beautiful flowering tree that has a lovely scent in the spring when it blooms.

This tree can withstand -10 degrees Fahrenheit and flourishes in Zones 5 to 8. It is a great tree for New Jersey properties.

Cleveland Pear trees average at a growth rate of 4 feet per year and stand at 30 to 40 feet tall once they mature.

Additionally, these trees grow uniformly, so they don’t need to be pruned constantly.

The dainty white blooms in the spring and vibrant orange foliage in the fall can spruce up any landscape and provide curb appeal.

For more information about trees that will grow well in zone 7 in New Jersey, call today to speak with a certified and fully insured arborist.

Originally published at: https://treesunlimitednj.com/

[etherealestimation]

you my friend just got an exceptionally quick lesson on time travel.

what.

it's 6:04. it was 6:43 2 minutes ago.

start making sense to me dude

you died. croaked. you're about to do it again. it's hard to describe but-

[sound of earthquake, confused hollering, (over fiber optic cable) furious typing]

[sound of bookshelf tipping over, terrified scream]

you my friend just got an exceptionally quick lesson on time travel.

what

it's 6:00. that's a bit better than last time.

start making sense to me dude

no time to explain. get to a doorway right now.

what

[sound of earthquake, brace against door, bookshelf, terrified scream continues for more than an hour.

a look out the window. outbuildings reduced to rubble. neighbor's house still standing. house still standing. status good.

6:40. in the distance. a small fire burns. checks phone and goes to call GE.

the call is struggling to connect. the dial tone plays six times, for one for each five second block out of time spent on the phone. an automated assistant answers.

6:42:31. a tree cracks at the roots. right through the roof. of the leftmost room on the top. skull split like a coconut.]

it's yesterday right now. 11pm. you're getting acclimated. it's hard I know. you're going to need to try harder though. you'll lose the L1 through L4 or 5, kinda depends on your pineal gland at this point.

what what the fuck could you possibly need at 11pm dude i'm asleep i've got that exam tomorrow

yeah but it'll be fine. don't worry. this is more important.

more important

ydax58v998bc4sjohvshfqyjz5vug6dcz900nemzbwhnfpphzzpufvykkpsiaid4ozmwxswmnytjj7rh3hl784n3gijperxgb2ea

huh

[phone rings. D-7d 10:10:31. in the lecture hall across from the courtyard. student excuses self out of class.]

why did you call me

i'm in a lecture man

this is pretty good. maybe even a lot better. you're still missing most of your L1-L4 but L5 is getting at least partly successfully backed up. we could probably train L1 before L4 if you wanted.

are you okay

since. okay that'll sound weird. take it seriously though. I need you to think happy thoughts about: winter, tortoise, pinewood scent.

i'm going to hang up i think seriously are you okay though

just keep thinking it okay. 7iru88cznpsygcutwnzhbhmgt0rrg97t8m8tl46fs6uo4efdt84i1atf92w2gtxjodm2z7fdyo0ap64imy7fptxioi0dio5p7bzb. d2c54fpm4kvu7z3jj6gum8weiwebi0urgkfl8coax5j7017btmv9go8o0hrr88gm7uwbu1fkj0iu1tbg3ea0j8z5at7bshrz59rb.

am i missing something

ding! check your phone!

[D-3y-3m-4d]

who are you

no time to explain. I need you to think sad thoughts about a japanese garden.

what what does that word mean to you

nothing. to you?

[D-2y-6m-28d]

we just met and this is gonna sound insane, but I need to ask when you last remember me from.

uh

am I supposed to know how to answer that

hopefully!

[a long pause in the dark. the air is still and humid and thick.

two people behind a pizza hut. they're sharing the pizza.

D-2y-6m-27d. cars roll by.]

...$D

why do i kn

don't worry. can you remember the text you got on $D-3y-3m-4d. from a wrong number. sad thoughts about a japanese garden. do you remember that?

no?

shit. we're running out of space here. sad thoughts about the garden. the japanese garden. I never got this out of you but I know it's there.

[memories flood back. its strange sepia seeps across this brain. the shadow of his back. sweetness like a marshmallow candy. an unpleasant rotting on the back of one's tongue. the leather seats. the touch pressure of a cruel or dimwitted dentist trying to get thrown up on. like the other garden. hummingbirds take turns feeding from a fountain off a dirt road. grass pollen stains the air. lush watered green leaves a running water oasis on the back of this tanned grass plain.

the gardens]

i don't want to think of th

[quick flash. D-3y-3m-4d. 11:21:01.]

hey.

hey?

do i know you?

you will. what were you doing on $D-2y-6m-28d.

...i met you that can't be right dude what

good. good. how about $D.

i uh oh god

okay L4's all the way there I think. can you say precisely what happened on $D

[crying without sobbing.]

fine, we'll push that goal back a bit. but I think you got it so we can stop moving now.

[outright sobbing now. screaming no, no that didn't

it's not going to

it won't happen

it doesn't have to

if hasn't]

can I get you some water? this never gets any easier. I guarantee they're harder to experience than that.

who the fuck are you? what the fuck are you?

look you're not. you know what happened right?

nothing happened that's in the future that's not how time works

well you've got that wrong.

how did i do that

th

yeah

you thought about it. really hard. on a level that you're not used to think about anything. you remember that thought, it's the one you remember clear as day, but you're gonna have trouble parsing it because it's an emotion you've never felt before. you'll start to get a feel for it.

i think i still have to get to class.

it'll work itself out but you do. meet me here tomorrow.

[dreams. there are long streamers that hang off the back of a van which is filled with people. they dismount and fill an entire wall full of graffiti tags. they're passing out rattlecans of paint to passers by. the keys are lost. things go off the rails.

there's a boat just off the shoreline of a lake. two old men fish and watch carefully a pair of children, who also fish and look bored into the murky green waters of the reservoir.

in the gardens]

we don't have much time. I get like 5 minutes right?

my next class is actually in an hour i'm sorry i got cold feet i couldn't sleep last night at all i think i'm ready to believe you now

[evergreenltd]

Ensuring Tree Health and Safety in Calgary- Evergreen Ltd Tree Cabling and Bracing Services

Calgary’s urban landscape is a testament to the harmonious blend of nature and city life. Trees, with their majestic presence, not only enhance the aesthetic appeal of the city but also provide essential environmental benefits. However, maintaining the health and structural integrity of these trees is a complex task that requires specialized knowledge and services. Evergreen Ltd, a premier landscaping company in Calgary, offers comprehensive tree cabling and bracing services to address these needs, ensuring the longevity and safety of Calgary’s trees.

The Importance of Tree Cabling and Bracing

Trees in urban settings often face unique challenges that can compromise their structural stability. Factors such as heavy winds, snow loads, and the natural aging process can lead to weakened limbs and branches. In some cases, trees develop structural defects that make them prone to splitting or breaking. This not only poses a risk to the tree’s health but also to the safety of people and property around it.

Tree cabling and bracing are proactive measures designed to provide additional support to trees, helping them withstand these stresses. Cabling involves installing flexible steel cables between branches to reduce movement and redistribute structural stress. Bracing, on the other hand, uses rigid rods to support weak branches or multiple stems.

Evergreen Ltd: Expertise in Tree Care

Evergreen Ltd is a trusted name in Calgary landscaping and tree care industry. Their team of certified arborists and tree care specialists bring years of experience and a deep understanding of tree biology and biomechanics to their work. Here’s how Evergreen Ltd’s cabling and bracing services stand out:

1. Customized Solutions

Every tree is unique, and so are its needs. Evergreen Ltd conducts thorough assessments of each tree to determine the best course of action. They consider factors such as the tree’s species, age, condition, and the specific structural issues it faces. This personalized approach ensures that the solutions provided are both effective and minimally invasive.

2. Use of High-Quality Materials

The success of tree cabling and bracing largely depends on the quality of materials used. Evergreen Ltd uses only the highest quality cables and braces, ensuring durability and reliability. These materials are designed to withstand Calgary’s harsh weather conditions, providing long-term support to trees.

3. Skilled Installation

Proper installation is critical to the effectiveness of cabling and bracing. Evergreen Ltd’s team is trained in the latest arboricultural techniques and follows industry standards to ensure that the support systems are installed correctly. This expertise minimizes the risk of further damage to the tree and maximizes the benefits of the intervention.

4. Ongoing Monitoring and Maintenance

Tree care doesn’t end with the installation of cables and braces. Evergreen Ltd offers ongoing monitoring and maintenance services to ensure that the support systems remain effective over time. Regular inspections allow their team to adjust or replace the supports as needed, adapting to the tree’s growth and changing conditions.

Beyond Cabling and Bracing: Comprehensive Tree Care

In addition to tree cabling and bracing, Evergreen Ltd provides a wide range of tree care and landscaping services. These include tree disease treatment, pruning, fertilization, and pest management. Their holistic approach to tree care ensures that trees are not only structurally sound but also healthy and vibrant.

Trees are invaluable assets to Calgary’s urban environment, offering beauty, shade, and ecological benefits. However, maintaining their health and structural integrity requires specialized care and expertise. Evergreen Ltd’s tree cabling and bracing services provide crucial support to vulnerable trees, helping them thrive in the face of environmental challenges. With a commitment to quality, customized solutions, and ongoing care, Evergreen Ltd stands out as a leader in tree care and landscaping services in Calgary.

[honeybeeloxs]

Crown of Leaves

Ashley Freund x Ashlyn Halperin

Part two of Big Gulp, enjoy.

The Phoenix Tanning Salon smells of Body Lotion, Goggles coated in flammable alcohol.

Ashley and Ashlyn walk into the room, opening and shutting the door. Ashlyn removes her coat and hangs it up, putting her bag on the coat rack. The weight of the bag was too much for the coat rack. It started to tip over. Ashlyn then puts it on the bottom to stabilize it. Ashley walks to the other side of the room to start the beds; The lights flicker on as the fan blows; Ashley taps the control panel and sets the timer for Fifteen Minutes. “Dude, he said no drinks; if you spill that shit, we’re gonna have to clean it up like last time,” Ashlyn says as Ashley picks up the Tanning Bed cared; Ashley taunts her by drinking from it and shakes the cup, “Happy Bitch, there’s nothing to spill.” she then puts the Big Gulp on the desk between the two beds. Beneath the desk was an electrical box; it was gray and empty for the most part, but big thick cables ran from it, which led into the wall socket and out of it to the beds. An LCD buck booster read. “Warning–This device should never exceed 250 VAC.” 

Ashley moved back to the coat rack before sitting her jacket on it, Ashlyn behind her, and moved to the electric thermostat ducking over the plastic palm tree. “Dude, why does Yuri keep it so cold in here?” she said, “Maybe it’s cold for the machines or whatever,” Ashley responded as she dug for her phone, seeing Wendy hadn’t called. Ashlyn sighed, “A few degrees won’t hurt….” she said before pushing the thermostat from a Seventy to a Seventy-Three. Ashley had already started taking off her shirt, but her action was interrupted when Ashlyn whined, “Shit! I forgot my iPod,” She and Ashley regularly take turns using iPods, but today she forgot hers at home. “Ugh, Sucks bitch, I mean! They have CDs!” Ashley said as she closed her Tanning Bed lid and latched onto the board above her bed, standing on her tippy-toes. “Ugh…” she scoffs in disgust, “Celion? Britney? Are we like the only cool people that come here or what?” Ashlyn zipped down her denim skirt and stopped. “Yeah,” she said before continuing. Ashley put weight onto the board; The shelf dropped to a quarter as the anchor screws drilled into the L brace holding the frame were ripped a little from the drywall; Ashley grabbed the last CD. “Greatest Hits from the Seventies–Have a Nice Decade!” she looks at it momentarily, “Whatever,” she says as she lets go of the board, making it wiggle out of the wall more.

Rain pours down on Yuri as he argues with Tanya; he kicks the wall in frustration. Yuri heads inside, removing the crushed Coke can and replacing it with Tan Lotion, which says, “Dying for a New Tan!” The door shifts before slamming down on the Lotion, making the lid make a POP sound as lotion spills over the alley; Ashley slides the CD into the player before sitting on her bed, unhooking her bra, and tossing it aside; Ashlyn looks at her and makes a questioning face, “Why are you wearing underwear? Ashley smiles, “Steinmeintz gets off on Tan lines.” she smiles, “Whatever….” Ashlyn responds and smiles before putting her goggles on; both girls pull the lids down, letting the blue lights take over. The door flattens the Tanning Lotion; white cream oozes out before the backdoor finally locks. Yuri is too distracted to notice it; the Irony of it all is that Tanya is the only girl who has given Yuri a chance. However, she was remarkably jealous, thinking he had a whole block of girls waiting.

“Hey Wen, Camera’s ready?” Wendy turned to see Julie standing in a pink floral knee-length dress, “U-Um, just a second!” Wendy stammered out, looking at her sister and the computer. Julie crossed her arms and paced around the hallway, “Y’know… Amber and Perry are about to pull up.” Julie’s tone was annoyed, “How about I take it tomorrow? When you’re not busy.” Julie said as she stopped and walked into Wendy’s room, “O-Oh… Okay, Thank you, Julie….” Wendy says as she turns around, meeting Julie’s smile, “Shit, they’re here… Listen, I’ll see you tonight.” she says as she turns on her heels and walks out of the room. Wendy flinched as the front door slammed shut. Wendy flipped through the photos until she came upon Ashley and Ashlyn’s, their mouths wide open with glee while they held onto a colossal palm tree inflatable that Ashley had just won at one of those cheap water gun games. However, Wendy felt off; something was off… The light flare is exposed; orange filters over the two girls laughing, washing them in a fiery orange glow. She chewed at her lip; She knew they had invited her to the Tanning Salon and that Ashley had given her cellphone number. Where did she place it? Oh, in the trash bin next to her, of course. Wendy got on her knees and dug through the container, but her lamp light flickered, distracting her; she finally pulled the number out and frantically searched for her phone.

Ashley and Ashlyn groove in their tanning beds as the opening scream of “Love Rollercoaster” nosedives into the funky, groovy bass line. On the desk between the two beds stood the Big Gulp cup, full of ice. Beads of condensation covered the cup, pooling around the base and forming a small puddle; a large bead rolled down the cup and fell into the reservoir, breaking it into small arms; the most extended arm rolled down the desk into the edge of the table where it met the wall. The trail pooled briefly before slipping between the desk and the wall, dripping into the empty gray buck booster box. The box hummed before white sparks flew from underneath it, spraying sparks everywhere. It stopped. The tanning beds started to heat up, and the fans kicked in, blowing hot air out of the beds. The room heated up. The LCD of the thermostat had already begun to climb, Seventy-Three, Seventy-Four, Seventy-Five, Seventy-Six, Seventy-Seven. More water fell from the cup into the Buck Booster; a loud bang and more sparks flew from the box. The Red LCD in front of the Buck Booster flickered before winking out for a second; a shadow over the walls traveled before it flashed back on. The numbers started going up– 240 VAC, then 245 VAC.

The air conditioning finally kicked in; The coat rack swung from side to side before eventually losing its balance; the top of the coat rack hit the plastic palm tree. The plastic tree hit the wall, the crown of leaves hitting the wooden board filled with CDs and hand towels. The L brace gave out, the board ripping from the drywall and landing on Ashley’s tanning bed. Ashlyn began to get uncomfortable. Finally, the beads of sweat on her forehead and breast made her anxious, “It’s a little too warm in here now, huh?” Ashlyn asked Ashley, who took out her earbuds, “Huh?” she asked; Ashlyn, uncomfortable, started to move her legs, “I fucked up. I set it too hot in here.” From the fallen bag rang Ashley’s phone, with it reading ‘INCOMING CALL–WENDY’ Wendy on the other line, anxious, biting her nails, the ringing stopped, “Hello!” said Ashley; Wendy sighed in relief, “Hey Ashley, It’s Wendy.” Wendy heard Ashley snickering and whispering to Ashlyn to stop before… “SIKE! Leave a message!” Wendy sighed as she slumped in her chair, “U-Um... Hey, this is Wendy; just call me when you’re done… I’m sorry I was too late.” Wendy hung up, but as she put the phone down on her desk, her lamp exploded, white sparks and glass flying everywhere. She turns around, facing the fiery glow overpowering the two girls.

Ashley lifted the bed lid, but as Ashley’s cover rose, the CD board slid off the top of her bed, twisting as it fell into the L brace of the bed, the bottom of the CD board banging against Ashlyn’s bed. Ashlyn pushed her lid, slowly opening it; the bottom of the board slowly slid into the bottom half of the L brace. The girls lifted their lids with no avail, Ashlyn burning the palms of her hands, “Ow!” she said as she tried again; Ashley tried, but the board latched onto the L brace and stopped her; Ashlyn let out a high-pitched scream. Panic arose as Ashlyn attempted to stop the fan from blowing hard, only making a grinding noise and cutting her fingers. The temperature rose from 245 VAC to 300 VAC to 325 VAC. Ashley pounded her feet against the wooden board covering the other end of the bed. She screamed as the top of the bed started to crack; the VAC rose to 355 VAC, which made them shatter, cutting her skin while Ashlyn’s skin began to get brownish as sweat dripped from her body. Still in the alley on the phone, Yuri looked up, and the scream came again; Yuri rolled his eyes before hanging up. Yuri walked to the backdoor, pushing it to no avail; he sighed, jogging to the front of the Salon. He grabbed the handle and twisted it; The door was locked, and he looked at the paper loosely hanging from it, “Be Back in Thirty. ♡” Yuri went to his back pocket for his keys, but his keys weren’t there. He looked through the door, “Hey, Open Up!” he yelled. 

Ashley slid up to the top of the bed, slamming against the in-built fan. Ashlyn protected her face from the heat, using her arm to shield her. The girls kicked on the bed lids, but Ashlyn started to jerk and scream louder; the plastic goggles were melting. Ashlyn’s front bulbs began to crack while Ashley tried to find a way out, slamming the lid up and down, hoping the top would open. “GET ME OUT!” Ashley screamed as she started to slam the cover-up and down faster; the bottom bulbs were beginning to crack under pressure; the VAC rose again, resulting in the bulbs shattering. Ashley fell into the base of the bed with sparks flying and glass cutting the bottom of her body. Ashlyn screams with her goggles melted into her skin as her bed finally shatters; bulbs inside the bed split, which incinerates the girl, and with the VAC climbing higher, Ashley’s bed short-circuits and lights her ablaze, clawing at her skin; Ashley looks out of her bed with Ashlyn screaming in agony. They would have called to each other, proclaimed their undying love for each other, and forgiven each other for every catty comment they made over the years. Still, the bulbs shattering like firecrackers on the fourth overpowered them; they were beyond words now. They could only scream.

[livingstyleup]

Storm Damage Tree Removal Services

When Mother Nature strikes, and your property in Australia is left with storm-damaged trees, immediate action is crucial. Our storm damage tree removal services are here to help. Our team of experienced arborists is ready to respond promptly to assess the situation and safely remove damaged trees, limbs, and debris. We understand the urgency of storm-related tree issues and are equipped to handle them efficiently. Let us restore safety and tranquility to your property with our reliable storm damage tree removal services.

[toronto-tree-removal]

Tree Removal Roncesvalles Toronto | Certified Arborist Services

Certified Tree Removal in Roncesvalles Toronto

Roncesvalles is one of Toronto’s most charming neighborhoods — with century-old homes, tight residential streets, and mature trees lining nearly every block. While the tree cover adds to the area’s character, it also requires proactive care and sometimes safe removal.  Below is our full guide on everything to do with Tree Removal Roncesvalles Toronto

That’s where Toronto Tree Removal comes in. Our certified arborists specialize in tree removal in Roncesvalles, especially in compact, hard-to-access urban spaces. Whether you’re dealing with a leaning tree in a laneway or a stump that’s blocking your landscaping plans, our team handles it all.

🚨 Why Tree Removal is Needed in Roncesvalles

Like much of Toronto’s west end, Roncesvalles trees face several threats:

Storm damage from wind and ice

Old age or root instability

Fungal infections or pests

Trees growing into structures or utility lines

Construction or renovation prep

If you’re unsure whether your tree is healthy or hazardous, we provide professional inspections and arborist reports to help you decide.

📋 Do I Need a Permit?

If the tree trunk is over 30 cm in diameter at chest height, yes — you’ll need a permit from the City of Toronto. Our team handles:

Full permit applications

City inspections

Arborist reports

Safe removals that comply with bylaws

Learn more in our Tree Removal Permit Guide

🧰 Our Services in Roncesvalles

We offer all tree-related services in Roncesvalles and nearby neighborhoods:

🌳 Tree Removal

✂️ Tree Pruning

🪵 Stump Grinding

🧱 Tree Cabling & Bracing

⚠️ Emergency Tree Removal

🧾 Arborist Reports

We’re fully insured and bring the right equipment for tight access or laneway jobs.

🌿 Roncesvalles Is Different — And We Know It | Tree removal Roncesvalles Toronto

The homes here are unique: tall, narrow, with small backyards and lots of overhead wires. Our crews are trained to work around these challenges using:

Sectional dismantling techniques

Rope rigging and ground crew coordination

Compact equipment for small yards

Tree protection measures during pruning or removal

We’ve completed dozens of successful jobs along Roncesvalles Ave, Sorauren Park, Fern Ave, and Wright Ave — and we’re ready to help you too.

🌐 Nearby Areas We Also Serve

We don’t just serve Roncy — we cover the entire west end of Toronto:

High Park

Bloor West Village

Dufferin Grove

Parkdale

The Junction

If you’re not sure if you’re in our service zone, just contact us.

🧱 Preserving Tree Health in Older Neighborhoods

Many properties in Roncesvalles were built over a century ago, and so were their trees. These mature maples, spruces, and locusts add beauty to the community — but also require careful attention. Over time, large branches can become unstable, especially without routine tree pruning, leading to risk during strong winds or heavy snowfall. We help homeowners preserve their trees’ health with proactive maintenance or cabling, and recommend removal only when absolutely necessary.

We often work on heritage lots where space is limited, which is why our team uses hand tools, compact stump grinders, and rope rigging to ensure zero damage to nearby fences, sheds, or gardens.

Full Article here > Tree Removal services Roncesvalles Toronto

[allegianttreecare]

Is Tree Service Covered by Insurance in Lancaster, PA?

When trees on your Lancaster, Pennsylvania property need professional attention, understanding what your insurance covers can save you from unexpected expenses. This guide examines the types of tree services typically covered by insurance in Lancaster, PA, and what homeowners should know about their policies.

Types of Insurance That May Cover Tree Services

Several types of insurance policies might cover tree-related services in Lancaster:

Homeowners Insurance

Standard homeowners insurance policies in Lancaster typically cover tree damage in specific scenarios:

Storm damage: When severe weather causes a tree to fall and damage insured structures

Lightning strikes: Trees damaged by lightning that pose risks to property

Fire damage: Trees affected by fires that weren't deliberately set

Vandalism: Damage to trees from deliberate acts of destruction

Auto Insurance

If a tree or limb falls on your vehicle in Lancaster, your comprehensive auto insurance (not liability-only) may cover the removal of the tree from the vehicle and repairs.

Property Insurance

Commercial property insurance operates similarly to homeowners insurance but for business properties in Lancaster.

When Insurance Typically Covers Tree Removal in Lancaster

Insurance companies generally cover tree removal in Lancaster, PA when:

1. The Tree Damages Insured Structures

When a tree falls and damages:

Your home or attached structures (garage, deck)

Detached structures listed in your policy (shed, fence, detached garage)

Other insured items (pool, outdoor kitchen)

2. The Tree Blocks Access

Insurance may cover removal when fallen trees:

Block your driveway access

Make your home inaccessible

Create unsafe conditions around regularly used paths

3. The Tree Fall Was Caused by a Covered Peril

Insurance typically covers tree damage from:

Windstorms common in Lancaster's spring and summer

Winter ice and snow accumulation

Lightning strikes

Fire

Explosions

Vandalism or malicious mischief

Vehicle impact (someone else's vehicle hits your tree)

When Insurance Won't Cover Tree Service in Lancaster

Understanding coverage limitations is equally important for Lancaster residents:

1. Routine Tree Maintenance

Insurance doesn't cover:

Regular tree trimming or pruning

Preventative tree care

Tree health treatments

Cabling or bracing for stability

Aesthetic tree shaping

2. Pre-existing Tree Issues

Insurance typically excludes:

Trees that were diseased before a storm

Trees with previous structural defects

Trees that died from natural causes

Trees with pest infestations

Trees that were previously identified as hazardous

3. Trees That Fall Without Causing Damage

In most cases, Lancaster insurance policies won't cover:

Trees that fall in your yard without hitting structures

Trees that fall into empty spaces

Partial tree falls where no insured property is damaged

4. Preventative Tree Removal

Insurance generally won't cover:

Removing trees that might fall

Taking down trees as precautionary measures

Removing trees to prevent future property damage

Insurance Coverage Limits for Tree Service in Lancaster

Even when tree removal is covered, Lancaster homeowners should be aware of policy limitations:

Standard Coverage Limits

Typical policies in Pennsylvania may limit coverage to:

$500-$1,000 per tree

$500-$1,000 per occurrence regardless of how many trees

A set percentage of your dwelling coverage

Special Considerations for Lancaster Properties

Lancaster's unique environment affects coverage:

Large maple and oak trees common in Lancaster neighborhoods may exceed standard removal cost limits

Historic properties in Lancaster city may have additional restoration requirements

Rural Lancaster County properties may face access challenges increasing removal costs

Filing an Insurance Claim for Tree Service in Lancaster

When tree damage occurs, follow these steps:

Document the damage: Take photos and videos showing the tree and affected property

Make temporary repairs: Take reasonable steps to prevent further damage

Contact your insurance company: Report the claim promptly

Get professional assessment: Have a qualified tree service document the damage

Keep all receipts: Document any out-of-pocket expenses

Meet with the insurance adjuster: Show all damage during their inspection

Review the settlement offer: Understand what will be covered before accepting

Tree Service Scenarios and Insurance Coverage in Lancaster

Scenario 1: Storm Damage

A severe thunderstorm—not uncommon in Lancaster summers—causes a healthy tree to fall on your roof.

Typically covered: Both tree removal and home repairs

Coverage details: Subject to deductible; may cover cleanup of tree debris

Scenario 2: Disease-Weakened Tree

A diseased tree that you were unaware of falls during a minor storm and damages your fence.

Coverage varies: The insurance company may investigate if the disease should have been apparent

Possible outcome: Partial coverage or denial based on maintenance expectations

Scenario 3: Tree Removal Without Damage

A tree splits in your yard but doesn't hit any structures.

Typically not covered: Most Lancaster insurance policies won't pay for removal

Exception: Some premium policies offer limited "debris removal" coverage

Scenario 4: Neighbor's Tree

A neighbor's tree falls on your Lancaster property and causes damage.

Typically covered: Your insurance usually covers the damage regardless of tree ownership

Subrogation possibility: Your insurer may seek reimbursement from neighbor's insurance if negligence is proven

Working with Tree Professionals and Insurance in Lancaster

Professional tree services in Lancaster can help with insurance claims by:

Providing proper documentation: Detailed assessment of tree damage

Creating accurate estimates: Itemized costs help with claim filing

Identifying hazards: Professional assessment of other potential tree issues

Emergency response: Quick service to prevent additional damage

Understanding local regulations: Knowledge of Lancaster city and township tree ordinances

Preventative Measures to Reduce Tree Risks in Lancaster

While insurance provides financial protection, prevention is better:

Regular tree inspections: Have trees examined yearly by qualified professionals

Proper pruning: Maintain trees to reduce failure risk

Tree health monitoring: Watch for signs of disease or pest problems common in Lancaster

Risk assessment: Identify and address potential hazards before storms

Appropriate tree selection: Plant species well-suited to Lancaster's climate and soils

Lancaster-Specific Tree Challenges

Lancaster property owners face unique challenges:

Historic trees: Many properties have aging, large trees that require specialized care

Urban constraints: City properties may have limited access for tree equipment

Weather patterns: Lancaster's mix of summer storms and winter ice creates multiple risk periods

Soil conditions: Local soil variations affect tree stability

Tree species: Certain species common in Lancaster are more prone to specific problems

Insurance Company Expectations for Tree Maintenance

To maintain coverage, insurance companies expect Lancaster homeowners to:

Address visible hazards: Take action on obviously dead or dangerous trees

Perform reasonable maintenance: Keep trees properly trimmed

Document tree care: Keep records of professional tree services performed

Respond to warnings: Address issues identified by professionals or municipal notices

Follow local ordinances: Comply with Lancaster city and township tree regulations

Choosing the Right Insurance Policy for Tree Coverage

When selecting insurance in Lancaster, consider:

Coverage limits: Check specific limits for tree removal

Named perils vs. all-risk: Understand exactly what causes of damage are covered

Additional riders: Some policies offer expanded tree coverage

Deductible amounts: Higher deductibles lower premiums but increase out-of-pocket costs

Property specifics: Policies should reflect your property's unique tree situation

Conclusion

Insurance coverage for tree services in Lancaster, PA follows specific patterns, covering damage from fallen trees in certain circumstances while excluding routine maintenance and preventative care. Understanding your policy details, maintaining your trees properly, and working with qualified tree professionals can help you manage risks and costs effectively.

When tree emergencies strike or you need professional tree care in Lancaster, contact Allegiant Tree Care for expert service and assistance with insurance-related tree issues.

Allegiant Tree Care

(717) 598-9857

2344 Lancaster Rd, Manheim, PA 17545

Visit: https://allegianttreecare.com/