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ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

--

things change slightly in the weeks that follow. 

according to your mom, who called you very upset on a tuesday afternoon, your dad had apparently decided to stay in town until the end of the month – and on very strict orders from sukuna and possibly any shred of self-preservation that you had in you – you weren’t going to be going back until he was gone for good. 

messages from sammy were few and infrequent, except for whenever she got drunk – something she very clearly got from your mom. always the same message, deeply apologetic and regretful, and it somehow was very slowly melting whatever it was that happened at the funeral. 

or it was just one of those things. 

she was your sister – she was blunt, a little harsh at times, but well meaning. or at least trying to be. but she was still your sister and for some reason, you were just going to get over it, in the real way, without thinking twice. 

but you do realize that it was too naive to think that years of butting heads and stepping on each other’s toes wasn’t going to go away just because you had decided to be friends and sang kumbaya while buying lingerie. 

that much should have been obvious though, since sukuna and yuuji had done their version of that years prior, and yet still had the meltdown they did a few months ago. it was always one of those complicated things you figured – growing up in the same house, being competition, stuck in admiration or hatred. 

the family business, one that sukuna and yuuji both refused to ever be a part of, has fallen at the seams. and while sukuna has no intention of ever working there – much to satoru’s delight – he’s fixing the mess of the finances that were left behind for all of the employees and the stipends that he were going to help his mom. 

meaning he has to go back to town. the town that you refuse to return to for the time being. and he won’t let you accompany him.   

and it’s in the week that he disappears that you wonder if you’re starting to be too codependent. if it’s normal for you to miss someone this amount, to worry about him so much, to the point where he occupies your every thought. 

he tries to call when he can. sometimes they’re a few in between because you know that he’s spending time with his mom, that he doesn’t like being home, that whatever it all is – it’s stressful and he hates it. 

your mom sends you a picture of him once in a while. sometimes you stare at it for a little too long. 

“hi sweet girl. how are you?” 

his voice sounds tired over the phone, the smallest hint of a rasp tinged in with the strained tone. 

“i’m okay, ryo. how are you?” 

sukuna can feel his heart sink at the nickname. at the fact that you use nicknames, terms of endearment, and he hasn’t heard them in days. 

“good, good. are you getting ready for bed?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah.” 

there’s a quiet beat. maybe you should have been more descriptive than that. that was a little flat. 

“is that fucking gel cat strawberry in the spot next to you?” 

you smile. 

“it’s a jelly cat. and yes, it is.” 

“enjoy it while it lasts. i’m going to throw it out the window when i get back.” 

“you’re so rude.” 

he laughs over the line and you can’t help but sigh before immediately regretting it. 

you wonder if he sleeps well. or if he laughs often with the moms or if he’s just run in different directions trying to make sure they’re all okay. 

“oh don’t break my heart, now. you miss me, sweetheart?” he murmurs. 

you can tell by the tone in the voice that he’s trying to coddle you. you almost want to give in just to hear him sweet talk you down. 

“yeah. gets real scary here without you.” you joke

“is that right?” 

“not actually. but you know like right before you go to sleep and the house creaks? i panic for one second and then decide that i should send a prayer out to the universe so i don’t die before falling asleep.” 

“always one for the dramatics.” 

“i know. i’m sure it always creaks but i’ve always shared a room – either with sammy or with mai across the way who was always blasting music. and you snore, so i never even not–” 

“i don’t snore.” 

“yes, you do.” 

“no, i don’t.” 

“i will admit. while it does take me some time to fall asleep, i’ve never slept so soundly with you gone. it’s so serene.” 

you know for a fact that sukuna’s rolling his eyes on the other side of the line. 

“wow, sweetheart. i should just do you a favor and stay here longer then.” 

“every night i wake up in a panic without you! i’ll never sleep again!” you joke. 

sukuna laughs. 

“that sounds about right. but really…i…i’ll be back soon, okay? i don’t like being away for so long.” he murmurs quietly. 

you frown. 

“don’t feel bad. you know you have to be there.” 

“i don’t feel bad. well, maybe i do a little but i mainly just fucking miss you.” he mumbles. 

you smile. 

“sap.” 

you pause. 

“i miss you too, you know?” 

“i was waiting for that. give me a little more.” he responds. 

you smile. mainly at the fact that he expresses what he wants so openly. or that he misses it just as much as you do. 

“i miss you a lot. it feels so weird to sleep in our bed without you that i fall asleep on the fold out couch.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“you mean you fall asleep watching tv and don’t move because i’m not there to pick you up?” 

“yeah, more like that.” 

sukuna laughs. 

“sleep in the guest.” 

“ew. it smells like yuuji and megumi’s cologne. and while they smell great, i don’t like smelling like them when i wake up.” 

“does our bed smell like me?” he asks. 

“yeah but i prefer the real thing so i sleep on the couch. i refuse to elaborate.” 

sukuna gets it. 

“i’ll be back soon, okay? i’m almost done and then…then i’m running back to you, alright?” he whispers. 

“okay. i do have something planned this weekend for your birthday, but don’t stress about it. it won’t be anything big.” 

sukuna pauses. 

he forgot that his birthday was coming around. 

he would be lying if he was saying that he wasn’t looking forward to it. he supposes that he was your opposite in that way. since no matter what it was, the circumstances good or bad, your birthday had been soured so bad that nothing could make it good – not even him. 

he didn’t blame you. or even take it personally.  

but he couldn’t relate. because he knew you – and it wasn’t arrogant of him to assume that you were going to go all out, no matter the circumstances. not only did you have a bad habit of leaving tabs or notes that were very clearly labeled gift ideas out in the open, but he knew that you would do something special for him, that he’d get to chart in all of the cherished memories that he had with you. 

it would be another sour patch of his that you’d sew right over, with careful and steady hands. but with every milestone that he thought of now, it was bittersweet. 

first birthday with you. first birthday without his dad – not that it really meant much in the first place. 

“no parties.” sukuna clarifies. 

“no, it’ll actually be just you and me. and i think you’ll like it, you–” 

“i’ll love it.” 

you smile. 

“i love you.” you state. 

he’s quiet on the other side of the line. 

“sukuna?” 

“i want to say it back but the moms are staring at me.” he mumbles quietly.

you smirk. 

“say it.” 

“no.” 

“you’re going to let me go to bed without an i love you?” 

“i’ll text it to you.” 

“ryomen sukuna. tell me you love me.” 

sukuna sighs. 

“i love you. call me if you can’t sleep, okay?” 

you can hear giggling in the background. and you’re sure he’s three different shades of pink. 

“i will.” 

--

not even an hour later, yuuji is standing on your doorstep – with a peachy smile and a bag slung over his shoulder. 

“yuuji? you–” 

“sleepover!” 

he walks past you and falls straight onto the couch, placing his bag next to him as he reaches for the remote. you quickly shut the door and take the spot next to him, watching as he starts shuffling through the movies, so cavalier about barging in so late and unannounced. 

“do you always show up to people’s apartment’s unprovoked with all your things?” 

yuuji smiles, reaching forward to flick your forehead. 

“no, just for you.” 

“figures.” 

you watch as he flits through all of the movies, nestling his head into your shoulder, as you return the gesture and lean your cheek against his. it takes two seconds for you to figure it out. 

“did he call you?” you ask. 

“he did. said some weird stuff about tables and carrying stuff. pretty sure he was just asking me to keep you company, which don’t mind if i do.” yuuji responds. 

you smile. of course. 

“i made one half joke about how i don’t like to sleep alone and he sent you running.” 

“isn’t that sweet? i can tell he’s been thinking about you a lot.” yuuji responds. 

you lean back, giving him a confused look. and you can tell by the look on his face that he knows exactly what you’re trying to get at, but pretends otherwise. 

“what? it’s sweet! he asked me to come take care of you.” yuuji clarifies. 

“since when do you find him sweet? no lecture about how he thinks i can’t handle things on my own?” 

yuuji scoffs, before pressing on the princess diaries. 

“you can’t take care of anything on your own.” 

“what a vote of confidence.” you deadpan

yuuji sighs, as you watch the movie start, and both sink deeper into the couch. a telltale sign that you realize both sukuna and yuuji have – one that you deeply appreciate – is that they’re always careful with their words. 

the opposite of sammy really, of your dad too. they won’t talk until they know whatever they’re going to say is something they mean. 

“you can take care of things on your own. but i like that being with him means that you don’t have to sometimes. for both of you.” yuuji states. 

you smile. 

“i like that too. it’s a nice change.” you respond. 

“i’m really sorry, y/n.” 

“i know.” 

yuuji swallows hard, reaching for the remote and pausing the movie before he turns to your side, your limbs now a tangled mess of being criss-crossed as he leans forward. 

“really. i’ve been so shit to you when this is all i’ve ever wanted for you.” 

“it’s okay. this…this stuff is really complicated for you and…” 

yuuji shakes his head, before looking down at your joined hands, fingers interlocked together. 

“this isn’t any excuse but…but…” 

yuuji sighs. 

“when sukuna came back, i thought he was really different. i mean, he was really different. i don’t know what you noticed, but he came back softer. he always gave me my space and let me come to him and we were working back through all of our stuff together.” yuuji starts. 

you’re not sure if you noticed a difference after he came back. he always seemed the same as always – a little withholding, like he was keeping you at arms distance. though, that seems to make more sense to you now. 

“but he’s still the brother i grew up with. there’s still things that i’m sensitive to, that…that i can’t get over.” 

you feel a pang in your chest. 

“i get that. you know…i kind of get that with sammy sometimes.” 

yuuji frowns. 

“yeah?” he whispers. 

you can feel the bitter contempt in your chest lingering. 

“i don’t know. i thought things were going well but…sometimes it’s just the same things as before. she’s just…always brushing me off. so harsh with her words. sometimes i think about the funeral and i’m glad sukuna’s not here just so i can lock myself in here and be alone.” 

you shake your head. 

“it’s like she’s picking at a scab. it’s the one thing i don’t want her to do and it’s the one thing that always happens. and she’s the only person who has that power in the first place, who…who gets to be that sore spot. and i know that it’s just how it is and it’s complicated but…” 

“but you can’t.” yuuji finishes. 

you shrug. 

“you were my scab.” yuuji states. 

you curl your nose in disgust, looking up to find the same expression mirrored on his face before you both laugh. 

“real cute.” 

“i mean…my thing with sukuna was that he was always better than me in every respect. that…that everything he did was perfect, that…that he was born normal and i wasn’t.” 

you cringe. 

“you are normal, you..” 

yuuji smiles. 

“i know i am. i just mean in my head, i always figured things were so easy for him. school was easy, sports were easy. he liked girls – he’d never have to sit there and debate if he was ever going to meet someone who liked him and when if he did, he wouldn’t have to give up his entire family for it.” 

yuuji pauses. 

“you were my best friend. you are my best friend. you’re my thing that’s always been easy. we don’t really fight, spending time with you never gets old, and…and really, you’re the only person i’ve known will always be around.” 

you smile. 

“it just felt like another thing he was going to be better at than me. and it’s selfish, but it was something i didn’t want to share. and i don’t expect you to get it, but…” 

you scoff. 

“don’t expect me to get it? you’re forgetting that i was the one who had to learn how to share you first. and maybe i didn’t say it out loud, but…i had some evil monologues for megumi that i was cooking up in my head.” 

yuuji laughs, almost like he’s relieved. 

“really?” 

“trust me. there was an entire basis behind the petty comments that i was making. i should have been more open with it but…but i don’t hate you for feeling that way. if anything, it makes me kind of happy, i guess. it did feel like you forgot all about me once you guys started dating, but…it’s nice to know you feel that way still. about me. even if it was annoying.” 

you pause. 

“you and i are special. and i can’t speak for you, but…sukuna’s never going to be what you are for me. i love him, but you…you’re not someone who could ever be replaced.” you affirm. 

yuuji smiles. 

“and megumi isn’t what you are for me either. he’s the love of my life. but you’re always going to be my soulmate.” 

you smile, rolling over the word in your head. soulmate – you and yuuji were soulmates. and he leans forward, placing his hands on your shoulder and squeezing. 

“now go on. tell me about him.” 

“what?” you ask. 

“i know you want to tell me about how happy you are. how it makes you feel. and i want to hear it. just refrain from talking about like how big his dick is or whatever and i’ll be fine.” 

you smile. 

“really? you mean it?” 

yuuji smiles back. 

“i’ve unfortunately heard the entire story of what that asshole was doing to you after the fact. it would make me really happy to hear how happy you are now.” 

you lean back on the couch and explain it all to him – french toast, bridgerton mugs (which he winces at when he remembers sammy broke them), emails, his coworkers, kisa, and everything in between. 

you don’t hear the apartment creak at night when you go to bed – instead it’s his labored breaths next to yours. 

--

sukuna makes it back early in the morning to find yuuji making breakfast in the kitchen and what he knows is you facedown still dead asleep in the mound of blankets on the couch. he gives yuuji a noncommittal wave before walking over to the couch and bending down at the side. 

sukuna can’t help but reach forward, brushing his back of his fingers against the softness of your cheek before tangling your hair away from your forehead. he can smell the remnants of the shampoo in your hair, your lips still a glossy pink from the balm you put on at night. 

“wake her up. give her a kiss.” yuuji whispers, now standing at his side. 

“are you crazy? she’s sleeping.” 

sukuna shakes his head, reaching forward to press a kiss to your hairline, before the two of them shuffle back to the kitchen. sukuna settles for a cup of coffee as he watches yuuji make the mix of french toast, the stillness hanging in the air between them. 

“dunno. if it were me and i went days without seeing megumi, i’d wake him up right away. why deprive myself of love and affection?” 

“you should deprive yourself more often. i’ve seen you two kiss far too many times. heard the words gumi bear way more than i’d like to.” 

yuuji snorts. 

“was she happy you came?” sukuna asks. 

“yeah. doubt she heard any of that creaking or anything she was telling you about since we were talking the entire time.” yuuji responds. 

it’s a small breath of relief – that sending yuuji was the right move – only to be coupled with guilt. 

sukuna hadn’t had time to check in on yuuji. 

“what did you talk about?” 

yuuji grins. 

“you.” 

yuuji looks over at him, grinning at him fully this time. 

“special edition bridgerton mugs? twilight themed emails? who knew you were so fucking corny? and that you watch bridgerton?” 

sukuna can feel his cheeks heat up, as he rolls his eyes. 

“she loves that shit. she made me watch it.” 

“no, she didn’t. she told me that you had watched it already and that your favorite season is the first one? not only are you a liar but you have god awful taste.” 

“let me guess. you like kate and anthony, like every other person on the fucking planet?” 

yuuji rolls his eyes. 

“everyone likes it for a reason. it’s perfect.” 

the two of them glare at each other, before giving up, and letting the same stillness take over. it’s not exactly uncomfortable, but there’s something lingering there – the two of them are stuck in their own heads about how they’re going to approach it, and more importantly, who is going to do it first. 

it’s yuuji. 

“the mugs thing is sweet. i’m sorry sammy broke them.” 

sukuna shrugs. 

“i’m bidding on ebay. no big deal.” 

yuuji notes that he responds to the second part of the statement and not the first. 

“i like that you do nice things for her. she really appreciates that you do.” yuuji repeats. 

 sukuna sighs. 

“did she say that?” 

yuuji smiles. 

“all that and more. she really loves you.” 

sukuna lets his eyes wander back to the couch, settling back into how foreign the apartment feels from being away for so long, and trying to let it all come back to him – how it was before he left things, how the two of you were. 

he’s scared he’ll do it wrong. 

“I’m really happy for you too. she’s exactly what you deserve.” yuuji states. 

it’s a weird sense of deja vu that sukuna gets – of the very first night. that loud bar, the mildew smell in the bathroom, and your tear streaked pink face. of the very first time that it occurred to him that there were people who had upset you, who had let you down, and that maybe he was the only person who was good enough for you – because he was the only one who intended to give you what you deserve. 

that he got to reap the goodness of the sweet love when he knew for a fact that he’d always be one to give it back to you, no matter how he was. that he was exactly what you deserved – maybe the only person who was because of how much he loved you. 

“what?” 

yuuji takes a beat. 

“were you expecting the opposite?” yuuji asks. 

“do you blame me?” 

yuuji shakes his head. 

“i am really happy for both of you. but i wouldn’t lie if i said i was more happy for you. i’ve known her a long time – and i’ve always wanted her to have someone who saw her for how special she is. and i always knew that it would happen, it was just a matter of time.” 

yuuji continues. 

“but i’m more happy for you. i had no idea that you had liked her for that long. i only now realize that the only person you could be that open with is her. and well…i don’t fucking know. shit sucked when we were kids. maybe for all of us, but for you the most. i know she loves hard. and i mean it, that’s what you deserve after everything.” 

there’s a lump in sukuna’s throat. he wants to tell yuuji everything – about why he left, about how him being around made it easy for him for a long time, how there was a time where he didn’t think he was going to live past twenty and now he’s reaching yet another birthday on the weekend. 

“i spent my entire life thinking i’d never get to be in love. and i’m not sure if that’s what you thought – but i know you weren’t ever thinking you’d get the girl of your dreams, and that on top of that, that it would be perfect. but really. it’s nothing more than what you deserve, sukuna.” 

but all he does is give him a nod. yuuji’s smart enough to parse what it means – that in the long rambling that he heard last night – he knows he has to learn how to read the silences, the quiet cues. 

“it means a lot to her that you came around.” sukuna starts. 

sukuna clears his throat. 

“and to me too.” he finishes. 

yuuji smiles. 

“and i suppose i should thank you. i always said she was like family to me, but it’ll be nice to tell people she’s actually my sister in the future.” yuuji responds, before squeezing his shoulder. 

sukuna smiles. 

“do you really let her call you ryomen?” yuuji asks. 

“yeah.” 

“thought you hated that name.” 

“i did.” 

there’s a reason that he went by sukuna. because every time that he slipped, he’d hear that godwful venomous voice, of his father telling him that he had given him such a special family name – and that sukuna had done nothing to deserve it. 

sukuna vividly remembers when he was a kid, when he used to beg everyone around him to call him sukuna, correcting them until they virtually forgot that his name was ryomen in the first pace. 

sukuna can feel the dryness in his throat, accompanied with a burning wetness in his eyes. yuuji makes no comment about it. 

“she just says it with so much love.” 

sukuna pauses, trying to will away that rising wave of emotion that was simmering in his chest, and put it away for the time being. 

“what did she get me for my birthday?” sukuna asks. 

yuuji nods. 

“she’s taking you on a weekend trip. a few cities over. she said there’s some cherry blossoms in season and that there’s a few museums that she wants you to see. figured it would be a nice rest for you given everything that’s been going on.” 

sukuna sighs, only because the wave comes back in full force. 

to be loved is to be known. 

clear cut proof that you had heard him loud and clear, when he had bared his soul to you. and not only that, but had known well enough that whatever was stewing in his head was getting dangerously close, maybe the closest it had been in years, to the edge – and that you had every intention to pull him back in the way he had pulled himself out in the first time. 

“is that good?” yuuji asks. 

“it’s perfect.” sukuna responds, before giving him one last nudge. 

sukuna decides that he won’t deprive himself. and instead leans forward, pressing his lips against yours – and pleasantly surprised when you smile right back at him in your sleep, his name honey on your lips, as he sinks into your arms. 

--

next part linked here

an: kind of filler again. sorry. apologies. also two more of this fic before it's done :O

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[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Seams drabble: Patch

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: None

Summary: Ellie finds a Pride-themed sew on patch that leads to revelations.

Warnings: Pure fluff and love for this girl, some angst, coming out, total disregard of canon because I don't know how it goes in the game.

Word count: 1.3k

Notes: This idea struck me out of the blue many months ago, and I was waiting for 'the right place' in the series, until I mentioned it to a dear friend in passing conversation and then I just started writing it. Very lightly edited. Set at unspecified time frame after Part IV.

Ellie hums to herself from her spot in a cosy corner of the Outfitters, one watchful eye on the door. It’s an uncharacteristically slow Saturday, but she’s not complaining - she has her hands full.

A big canvas sack lies empty on the floor, its contents strewn haphazardly all over the wooden floor. The mess drives you up the wall, but you know better than to question her (very questionable) methods, so you’re ensconced in the safety of your studio while she sorts through the clothes and odds and ends that the patrollers brought back from their most recent outing.

Though infrequent - most settlements around Jackson have been painstakingly pilfered for anything useful over the years - it’s her favourite duty at the shop. Lucy is looser with the rules, but sometimes, you let Ellie keep little knick knacks that won’t sell.

The teenager goes through the pile thoroughly. Shirts go in one stack, jeans in another, followed by shoes, hats and scarves. Turning to the heap of smaller loose trinkets, she separates mismatched buttons, safety pins, shoelaces and zippers (as Maria always says, every little help), when something colourful piques her attention.

Plucking the piece of fabric out of the jumble, Ellie recognises it as a decorative patch that she’s seen sewn onto bags and shirts. It’s the size of her palm, cut in the shape of a rainbow, the colours still bright. Over the arches, bold white text outlined in black spells out NYC PRIDE 2003.

Tucking it into her pocket for now, she quickly finishes the rest of the sorting. Clothes go into the bin to be collected by the laundry, shoes for the cobbler’s, and accessories into a box to be priced and shelved.

Ambling into the back of the shop where you’re busy hemming a pair of jeans, Ellie plops into one of the rolling chairs, straddling the back of it, and the wheels screech as she careens across the floor to your sewing station.

Your lips quirk as you look up briefly at her. ‘Find anything interesting?’

‘Just this,’ she replies, flashing you the patch and reading aloud, ‘NYC Pride 2003. What does that mean?’

‘There used to be a big pride parade for the LGBT community every year in New York City,’ you explain. ‘They used to close down the streets and everything for it, it was a huge event.’

Ellie blinks, your answer taking her by surprise. She clears her throat, a distant buzzing at the back of her head as she turns the patch over pensively in her hand. ‘What - do you know what it was like?’

‘I’ve never been to one, but it always looked incredible. People used to line the streets in support, and everyone dressed up. There’d be rainbow flags everywhere, floats, dancing, music, and of course, it was an important way for the community to highlight and push for LGBT rights.’

‘You mean -’ she pauses, the unfamiliar feeling of stumbling over her words making her hands sweat. ‘You mean, people would just be out in public, like, being themselves?’

‘More than that - they were celebrating themselves.’

Ellie doesn’t realise she’s fallen quiet until you speak, ‘You can keep it if you want.’

Her head snaps up, disoriented. ‘Keep what?’

‘That.’ You nod towards the patch she’s clinging onto so tightly that her knuckles have gone white.

Panic prickles the back of her neck, an embarrassed heat suddenly making her want to pull at the collar of her flannel. But then you shrug and say, almost flippantly, ‘It’s pretty.’

‘Yes,’ she blurts out in hasty agreement, letting out a breath she’s been unconsciously holding. ‘It’s very pretty.’

Ellie is relieved when you turn back to the sewing machine, leaving her to retrace her steps to the front of the shop. The patch sits on the counter, where she leaves it, as she goes about her business for the rest of her shift.

Her eyes travel to the rainbow, and she thinks of how she wasn’t like the other girls at school, who fawned over dogeared photos of singers and actors long dead. She thinks of how she’s always known she’s different, but didn’t have the vocabulary to express it.

She thinks of Riley.

Riley.

For Riley.

When half three rolls around, you spot the teenager lingering by the studio doorway out of the corner of your eye, her backpack dangling from her fingers. Any other Saturday, you’d be lucky to catch the blurry shape of her shadow when she gallops out of the shop, throwing a see ya over her shoulder.

Thrown by her silence, you prompt, ‘Yes, Ellie?’

Scruffing the tips of her well-worn sneakers on the floorboards, she bites her lip in an atypical display of hesitance. ‘Pin, could you help me sew the patch onto my backpack? Please?’

You smile, eyes soft. ‘I’d love to. C’mon.’

‘You don’t have to do it now,’ she protests, feigning nonchalance, but her twitchy hands give her away. ‘Like, whatever, it’s no big deal.’

Wanting to put her at ease, you shrug. ‘No time like the present. Where do you want it?’

Putting her bag on your work surface, she points. ‘Guess right here under the wings.’

‘Perfect. Can you unzip the bag for me?’

You have Ellie hold the rainbow exactly where she wants it while you thread the needle, and you start sewing it in by hand, stitch by tidy stitch. It barely takes a couple of minutes, but time is of the essence - you haven’t heard the girl take a single breath of air since the anchor stitch.

Snipping off the thread with a flourish and giving it a once over, you grin. ‘There, all done.’

Ellie ducks her head, quiet as she takes the bag from your hands, running a thumb over the arches of the rainbow. Without a word, she suddenly throws her arms around you, hugging you tight.

‘Thanks, Pin,’ she mumbles into your hair.

Your heart swells, and you squeeze her back even tighter. ‘Anything for you, kiddo.’

On Monday morning, Ellie hovers in the hallway outside the kitchen, observing.

Joel is at the table, oblivious with his back to the door, her breakfast of two fried eggs over and easy and toast waiting at her usual spot at the table. Taking a deep breath, she bites the bullet and walks in, backpack in her hand.

‘Mornin’,’ grunts Joel, almost done with his own eggs, sunny side up.

‘Morning,’ she parrots back as she makes herself comfortable.

She usually just dumps her bag on the floor, but today, she pulls out the chair next to her and drops it into the seat. The unusual movement catches Joel’s eye, and he takes a good long look at the backpack.

Eventually, he points vaguely in what she assumes is the direction of the rainbow patch, and says, ‘That looks new.’

‘Yup, Pin helped me sew it on.’

He purses his lips, asking around a mouthful of egg. ‘You know what Pride is?’

She swallows thickly, and it takes a beat to unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth. ‘Yeah, Pin told me.’

He nods, then turns his attention back to his plate with no fanfare.

Not entirely sure if he caught the nuance but her mind too in knots to care, Ellie picks up her fork and doesn’t think twice when he gets up to put his dish in the sink.

She nearly chokes on eggs when strong arms close around her shoulders in a vice-like grip, scratchy beard on her temple, Joel’s voice so thick that it makes her think if she turns around, she’ll see tears in his eyes.

‘Proud of you, baby girl.’

Later that afternoon, Joel finds you alone in the shop, restocking the women’s outerwear rack.

You toss him a smile over your shoulder. ‘Hey, what are you doing here?’

‘Lucy ‘round?’ he asks.

‘When is she ever?’ you quip with no bite.

Three steps and he’s spun you around by the waist, soft lips latching onto yours in a sweet kiss with just a hint of heated aftertaste that has you swaying on your feet when he pulls back.

A breathless laugh bubbles in your throat as you palm his whiskered jawline. ‘Why, thank you for that, Mr. Miller.’

The corners of his eyes crinkle, and he brushes his nose tenderly against your cheek. ‘No, thank you, sweetheart.’

Notes: I hope I wrote Ellie's coming out as sensitively as I hoped to. As I mentioned, I have no idea how or if she comes out in the game, but despite being such a chatty teenager, I think she'd find it difficult to broach the subject with Joel in conversation. For me, this was a fun way of weaving in her part-time job at the Outfitters and Pin into her coming out story that stays true to Ellie's character. I hope you enjoyed this - comments and reblogs appreciated as always!

P.S. I am not 'back' back, so I don't know when I will next update Seams. Thank you for your patience while I try to navigate my way back to some semblence of writing regularly, whenever that may be.

Thank you @firefly-graphics for the dividers ❤️

[tiptapricock]

what do you think of jake + jerking off?when do you think he does it or where or why? anything really! :D

o7777 As usual I hold many simultaneous headcanons that can change depending on story, so here is! One vibe :-) Heads up for a kinda negative/uncomfortable dynamic w sexual pleasure. Also this is MCU!Jake specifically.

———

“Ai…”

Jake sighs in frustration as he settles in the front seat of his cab, glaring down at the swell of hardness in his pants. He runs a hand down his face, pausing a moment to squeeze anxious energy into his jaw and look up out the windshield. A stretch of dark, empty, street is all that greets him there, no further threats, no incessant bag of bones to argue with. He glances back down, and huffs in resignation.

He really… doesn’t want to do this right now.

Adrenaline has always been one of those Things for them, something about the rush of chemicals crossing over wires and leading to… this. It’s happened plenty of times after missions or close calls. Not as bad now as it was in their earlier years, of course, and Jake will always be grateful that infrequent boners are one of the perks of getting an older body.

He pulls himself into the passenger seat with a wince, back popping, and settles back. Then he clicks open the glove compartment casually, tugging a few clean napkins out from the clutter of old maps and reminder notes.

“No tengo tiempo para esto…” he mutters under his breath, hissing as he unbuttons his jeans and tugs them down far enough to get to his boxers.

He’s hard through the cloth. Their cock strains up against the elastic fabric, a small damp spot forming where the head is pinned against their thigh. Jake brushes a hand over it, making a small noise of discomfort as the heat in their stomach twists and bleeds outwards. Their body is aroused, he knows, but it always feels too much like anxiety to him, like the same breathless pressure to escape.

But maybe that’s… just him. Marc and Steven don’t seem to be bothered in the same ways. Escape long enough, and every flick of green looks like a go signal, or something like that.

Anyways, he can work with it. He’s learned to. He could, of course, just leave it, could drive home and let one of the others tackle getting off, or even better sleep and let it subside on his own, but he’s found it’s better to deal with this kind of thing before long drives. That off-ness flaring in his gut and between his legs never does great things for his focus.

Jake grips himself firmer, pushing up into the rough press of leather seams as he works along the line of his cock. He tries to be fast with it, fingertips dragging along the clothed line of his shaft, hips grinding upwards. He follows the zing of energy, the rising glow of heat tugging up from his skin, choking back small sounds and trying to focus on the pleasant feelings over the growing wave of strange, uncomfortable, jittery.

He manages somewhat. Just like on his hands the leather feels good, solid and intimate, even if the barrier makes them rougher. It almost makes Jake want to rut against the seats, to chase whatever shaking energy is squeezing his throat so tight and get it out of him. But he doesn’t.

Instead, when he gets to that warm, sensitive, crest, he slips his waistband down and directs himself into the handful of napkins, breath hitching as he works the cum from his tip. Rocking slowly, easing it out.

He shivers to a halt when it seems finished, fingers still wrapped around his base, his gut cooling rapidly like a doused flame.

Done. He’s done.

Jake swallows thickly, wiping the last bit of fluid from himself before shoving the lump of crumpled trash into his car’s portable garbage bag.

He leans back against the seat with a sigh, licking his lips as his stomach and the back of his skull settle into an odd, empty kind of space. He wonders if this is what it’s supposed to be like. It’s cold, really, like losing heat out from under a blanket. Not that it matters in the big scheme. Not that any of this really does.

Jake sniffs loudly, tucking himself back into his jeans, and pulls himself over into the driver’s seat.

The sound of the engine coming to life comforts his chest, the rumble beneath his feet and hands grounding. It’s a good place to find his stability again, especially when his skin still feels clammy and sensitive and his tongue is dry.

He blows out a breath, pushing down a swell of strangeness, and flicks on the headlights. Then he peels out of his parking spot, washed in the liminal glow of street lamps, and begins the late night ride home.

———

Send me a character, kink, prompt, etc. and I’ll do a short bit of nsfw prose on it!

[phasesofpencilsmain]

Crochet tumblrrrrr i have another question!!!😫

Still working on this pillow pattern

Still making tests, and these are the instructions for the bobble panel

Standard i assume, right? This is what the test panel looks like.

Ok, alright. I assume i did this right based on the instructions, right?

So then why does the side(?) Panel in the picture look like THIS??????

Why does it look so jagged?????? Mine is pretty much straight on each edge, why is their side so jagged???? Did they tuck the edge in or something??? Did i mess up??? Cus the instructions for seaming it doesn't mention anything about tucking in the edge, infact if anything it tells you NOT to tuck in the edge on any side.

So I'm lost why the pattern's side picture looks different. And if you look at the sides in A for the full front panel you can see her's is straight too, so where did this jaggedness come from? Also the seaming doesn't even mention what to do at a corner for seaming, shouldn't i be slip stitching 2-3x in the corner? Should i not?? And it also mentions that the sides stitches seaming won't match up pefectly because they dont have the same number of rows, but then they also dont explain how youre supposed to handle that issue, do you just igonore the extra rows on the other side and stitch straight across??

This seems like it should be auch a simple pattern and yet it's making me so confused, like i almost have more questions than answers the more i reread it and try to understand and try it. Maybe because i crochet/knit so infrequently I'm still a beginner at it but idk i feel like I'm missing instructions or something.

[moldwood]

no i appreciate the rambling!!! thank u for the recommendations :) for some reason i tend to struggle more with free tutorials, i think because i feel less pressure to finish them whereas with paid ones im like ok i spent real actual money on this i should probably make sure im not wasting it lmao. but i will probably check out that first one you linked for sure since that was one of the ones i was already looking at!! ngl i use blender so infrequently that i feel like i always forget Literally Everything about how to use it every time i go back to it so beginner friendly is probably a good thing lmao.

tbh im not expecting to get too much into texturing & stuff yet since i mostly just want basic face models to use for consistency when drawing my ocs from different angles... but like. i say that, but then that means i might as well do full body models & rig them so i can also use them to get proportions & poses more accurate... and if i want to have references for different expressions i should probably also learn how to rig faces... & if im gonna do all that i might as well texture them too. and i guess add like clothes, and hair thats not just a solid unmoving chunk lmao. for some reason textures just scare me tho lmao wdym you took a 3d thing and cut it up into a flat image. like i get it in theory but my brain Does Not Like It.

BUT i think topology is definitely a big thing i want to focus on. its definitely something i struggle with... mostly bc i havent really looked into how to do it properly yet. i have an old model that ive been chipping away at every so often for like. idk a few years? (i really, really dont use blender often lmao) and im still struggling to get the topology on the face to look good. honestly i should probably just restart it but i dont wanna :( but i did get one of those bundles with retopoflow a while back!! i just havent actually checked it out yet lmao. also that chart should definitely come in handy bc the head/neck connection is one of the parts thats been giving me trouble on the model i mentioned, i have one spot on it thats just connected weird no matter how much i try to fix it so hopefully i can reference that to figure something out.

anyway sorry i guess its my turn to ramble now but thank you for the recs!! i will definitely be looking into them :)

i think because i feel less pressure to finish them whereas with paid ones i'm like ok i spent real actual money on this i should probably make sure i'm not wasting it lmao

felt!!!! the consequences make it something you Gotta do. and fellllt at the whole second paragraph, i was like "wellllll i'm just going to learn to model simple stuff to make the buildings in a comic i'm working on to make doing backgrounds easier :)" and that was a lie. it was a lie it was a huge lie. learning is my favorite pastime it was never going to just be simple building blocks.

for some reason textures just scare me tho lmao wdym you took a 3d thing and cut it up into a flat image. like i get it in theory but my brain Does Not Like It.

the course does cover this and setting up seams on your model to unwrap from in a way that makes it very understandable luckily! my only complaint is that blender's painting system is camera oriented instead of vertex oriented like sculpting is. but as long as you keep rotating your model around and fixing things and making use of the mask tool to get sharper edges, it's not too bad

and @ paragraph 3 y e a those bundles come with so many addons that i'm like. well i Gotta get it. and then i do not touch them because i'm doing so many sculpts that i don't do anything with once i get to the hair stage 😭 i'm just too lazy for hairrr. but i think retopoflow does make understanding retopology a Bit easier once you know how to use it since it automates some things that are finnicky in blender like relaxing the topology to make the quads more even. one thing flycat does in a few videos is skip the sculpt completely and just do the low poly from scratch just using subdividing once or twice?? there were a lot of little topology tricks i picked up from this one. restarting the topology on your model might not be a bad idea just to refresh on how you did it before, but i know there's some built in stuff in blender now like drawing edges and mayyybe faces from the annotate tool?? and that makes it a lot easier. it's all just finding the motivation to finish the project, which i struggle with too 🥲 you and me buddy we got this.

[yeahcurrahhe-e]

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐄

〚 𝐑. 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐈𝐑𝐒 〛

“𝐖𝐇𝐘 𝐄𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 in the army when there’s numerous jobs for women around here? Women don’t belong running across a battlefield, sitting in trenches, dirty and sweaty beyond any recognition of beauty.” Had been the sickly pleasant words of a meek woman, her mother, stifled by a stereotype.

Joining the WAC had been the shattering point between Y/N Y/L/N and her parents, two individuals adhered stubbornly to a sexist mandate and desperate to groom her to be another product of the status quo.

What they received was her enlisting promptly in the WAC upon its creation, burying their desires in a shallow grave with the sole of her uniform boot. The day she was transferred to the European Theater saw a vacancy of family for her, an orphan beneath the youthful sun and amidst tearful farewells.

It was quite obvious that when she returned home — if such godly luck was bestowed to her — her parents would have long since disowned her in her absence, mourning an alternate daughter that they never would have, regardless of what she has accomplished in the WAC. Upon her enlistment, their neighbors, who had been adoring the brazen little girl in their small town, had abruptly turned such revere into cascades of judgements similar to her parents. Maybe returning home was more so social suicide than a strike of luck.

Her true strike of luck was being a first lieutenant, a living example of a woman who set ablaze a witless sexist stereotype. To whatever extent those moronic boys worked, she always worked twice as hard to acquire any dregs of recognition.

Hence why her presence at their current Regiment was defined by chaotic, blurred glimpses of her as she bustled about with paperwork and maps, and sporadic visits into hospital tents, a bearer of supplies and a consolation for the youngest soldiers amidst the wounded. At Regiment, the female lieutenant was a living illustration of an army disciplinary booklet, the words alive in the calculated steps she’d approach a soldier with, the stoic expression that deprecated all of her recognizable kindness, and her grace to shift the demeanor for the infrequent kind soul that would drift in from the frontlines.

Typically, the individuals that would wander into their war-blown building had their souls in crumbles in their bloodied, dirt-smudged palms. Or they were a shell of humanity, a facade of a man but the internal components of a vacant abyss, their soul breaking at the seams amidst the disaster.

The man who trudged through the bullet-ridden threshold that afternoon was a vacancy of humanity; perhaps he could’ve once been a keen-eyed boy, welcoming to the unknowns of the world before the cruelty of war shattered it all.

Granted, no one departs from a war as the same soulful-eyed enlistee they were at the start, but why give the devil the contentment of entirely tarnishing yet another soul? She wasn’t spared from psychological cracks, but her perhaps was just better at subduing the surges of temptations that frisked about with each traumatic scar. It always ached to see so many men disintegrate into a frail shell, cracked and withered by screams of dying friends, splatters of blood, and brightly shattering mortars.

Y/N watched him traipse into the vestibule from behind a crate of unsorted files, the rasp in the floorboard settling an anchor in her core as he dropped with a bustle of his uniform on a chair. Blood was soiling a majority of his clammy skin, her medic instincts poking and prodding out wounds and lacerations across his face.

His blood smudged knuckles wiped briefly at his nose, its surface and his eyes pulsating red from an apparent cold contracted from their bitter surroundings and close quarters with others. His brown hair was littered with dust and debris, skin blemished also by dirt. His shirt was a shambled mess, ghastly saturated with blood and sweat, and her hand slipped down the ridged side of the crate from shock when he glimpsed towards her for the first time.

He was uneasily silent, bloodshot eyes searing holes into her soul, a fleeting glisten of similar shock in the vacant abysses as if he was bewildered that there was a woman in front of him — particularly one that adorned the emblem of lieutenant on her sleeve. She regarded how he winced like he was in anguish when he abruptly turned away to cough horrendously in the crook of his elbow.

With their tense stare vanishing in the bitter, stale atmosphere, Y/N reluctantly jostled away the crate when his fuss of coughs worsened and resounded with crackles in the quiet vestibule. She wasn’t one to disregard paperwork or push it as a responsibility onto a lower ranking soldier, yet felt compelled to assist the coughing man to some extent. With a brief glance to the upper curve of his uniform, Y/N noted the familiar lieutenant emblem sewn amidst the threadbare cotton.

“Lieutenant,” she acknowledged with a veneer of professionalism, adjusting her garrison hat with a perturbed twitch.

A rasp of breath was inhaled amidst the quiet air, the remainder of the personnel upstairs or scattered on the frontlines, and the man gradually eased away from his tantrum of coughs to face her. Y/N regarded the trickle of sweat that tickled the side of his face that had a scanty rub of blood on it, and the bewilderment amidst the grot, as if not anticipating such a demanding voice from her — or that she wasn’t a fidgety disaster within his presence.

“I can fix you a cup of tea,” she nonchalantly offered, discarding his shock to an abyss of irrelevance and continuing into the middle of the room, “I only offer because you look like you’re sick.”

His mouth was open as if to retort, but it was an oblivion of silence, not even a single wisp of breath as if his mind was backfiring in comprehension.

“I actually can see what cold medicine we may have—” Y/N blurted when the silence solidified similar to an anchor in the room, only for her to be hindered in her attempt,

“Tea,” the soldier rawly retorted, subtle gusts of bitterness in his tone but she permitted the misery as it was a typical spirit in the daylight these days.

Y/N approached the kettle of tea that a fellow WAC soldier had arranged twenty minutes prior to his arrival, him still projecting bits of coughs from his sorely chapped lips as she rounded the corner into the home’s dining room.

The superiors had arranged a couple of coal stoves on the ornate German rug, utilized the grandiose China in the oak cabinets, and had an adequate cache of K-Rations situated in a crate alongside one of the stoves. The stoves were primarily utilized for projecting warmth as the house was a crippling husk from bullets and dogfights.

Y/N hastily snatched one of the military-supplied cups from the shelf, pouring the tepid tea into its metallic chasm when the floorboard behind her rasped with the footfall of another presence, subtle sniffles specifying it was the ill soldier.

“You part of the WAC?” He inquired, a verbal struggle through a slick of snot. His weary eyes revered how her orderly hair and skin had a lustered edge from the faint cast of moonlight that pierced the frost-bitten window.

“Yes,” she retorted shortly whilst placing down the balmy kettle on the stovetop, facing him and crumbling the halo that calcined her silhouette. She stretched the cup forward to him with an introduction, “I’m First Lieutenant Y/N Y/L/N. You?”

The soldier stepped towards her with fingers just mere inches from her goosebumped arm, plucking the warm cup and wavering on the answer — something that should be fairly easy and thoughtless.

“Ron,” he eventually informed, feeling too unbearably close to her now in the sweeping dining room; now she could truly admire his dark brown hair that was disheveled by spurts of sweat, the occasional blemish of dirt, yet still balanced by a parting in the middle. His eyes were in the midst of a wrangle between being blazing yet shadowy, a clean-shaven, pronounced jaw evidently accustomed to being clenched, prominent cheekbones to match, a regally arched nose, vulpine mouth.

The military was a perpetual production line for handsome young men, a whispering allure to her the entire time she had been amidst them in her training, one she always quashed with the belligerence of a lunatic. Her succumbing to the natural attraction to a man would be an exploited infraction fiendish superiors would never hush about.

Y/N varnished herself in a dense veneer of professionalism when she forced her gaze to shift away from their thrilling contact, a subtle increase in her heart rate a foreboding anchor in her chest.

She gave a breathy laugh, “Just Ron?”

“Yeah, just Ron.”

“Well, Ron, get some rest while you’re here. You look like you deserve it,” she mused with a crooked grin under the shadow of her garrison hat. with a crooked grin under the shadow of his helmet. He didn’t utter any extent of a retort, her solely beholding his gaze that expressed a continuing conversation of contempt, ire, and adoration — spared for her in that moment. Her.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Ron nodded curtly, a subtle tremor on his lips as they dared to defy and curl up at the corners. He deliberately suspended the metallic mug in front of the patch hemmed between the tatters of his uniform, obscuring the last name that would alter her perception of him instantaneously; she couldn’t be aware that the most formidable man in the company was in her presence.

And he wanted to keep it that way.

[astrumocs]

🚫 oda,,

🚫 PROHIBITED — does your oc drink/smoke? do they do it regularly, or is it more on occasion or for special events?

Oda does both, though he tries to do them infrequently. He drinks less than he smokes because he likes keeping his wits about him, and one wrong drunken tumble and he could lose his other eye, among other reasons.

He also only tends to smoke when he's fraying at the seams from stress or socially from time to time, but he tries to hide this particular bad habit from friends and loved ones.

[opposite-idol]

Waive the American Dream

I talk so infrequent That every time I meet with a friend By evenin’s end, my throat is hurtin’ But I crave that kind of life The life of a socialite

First glimpse of fantasy In 7th grade reading Great Gatsby Wish that were me Minus the tragedy Minus the poor mental health, and blindness But keeping hope for the future, money, and dreams It’s not always what it seems We can’t choose where life comes together, or breaks at the seams And we can’t choose if every house we live in will have visible beams Oh, my skeleton is dying inside me I wish you could see But I’ve only got my words So I’ll just try my best to show off the insides visibly I’ll just try my best to show you every invisible mess It’s been twenty years, that I’ve been doing this And I still haven’t gotten shit out of it

Fuck

I’m present so infrequent That every time I leave the house I disassociate By evenin’s end, all my emotions will dissipate But I crave that kind of life The life of omnipresence Wanna be famous But I learned too late That biding my time is a major waste

So I just lie I just pretend I have no regrets I’m a good kid, I’ve never done anything wrong Except hurt my own heart What the fuck is passion What the fuck does it feel like to even start

First glimpse of the good life Under seven years old, watching the Oscars Wish that were me Minus all the hard work Minus having to be the center of attention But somehow still getting all the attention and spotlight And making all the money, and following my dreams But it’s not always what it seems We can’t choose where life comes together, or breaks at the seams And we can’t choose if every house we live in will have visible beams Oh, my skeleton is dying inside me I wish you could see But I’ve only got my words So I’ll just try my best to show off the insides visibly I’ll just try my best to show you every invisible mess It’s been twenty years, that I’ve been doing this And I still haven’t gotten shit out of it

Fuck this

[donospl]

Co w jazzie piszczy [sezon 2 odcinek 32]

premierowa emisja 11 września 2024 – 18:00 Graliśmy: Norma Winstone, Kit Downes “Black Is the Colour” z albumu “Outpost of Dreams” -– ECM Records Enrico Rava “Bell Flower” z albumu “Fearless Five” – Parco Della Musica Records Claudio Scolari Project “Celestial Revelation” z albumu “Opera 8” Natsuki Tamura & Satoko Fuji “Traveling Bird” z albumu “Aloft” – Libra Recirds Ivo Perelman / Aruan…

[mygatorrguards]

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[abigail55]

Unveiling the Lush World of Turf: A Comprehensive Guide

Turf, often referred to as grass turf or sod, serves as the verdant carpet of lawns, parks, sports fields, and landscapes worldwide. Beyond its aesthetic appeal, turf plays a crucial role in various ecological, recreational, and functional aspects. In this comprehensive guide, we'll delve into the fascinating world of turf, exploring its types, benefits, installation methods, maintenance practices, and environmental significance......visit more.

Understanding Turf: Turf essentially comprises a cultivated layer of grass and its underlying soil held together by roots. It serves as an instant lawn solution, offering a quick and convenient way to establish lush greenery in diverse settings. Turf is commonly harvested from specialized farms where grass varieties are carefully cultivated and nurtured for optimal quality.

Types of Turf: Numerous turf varieties exist, each tailored to specific climate conditions, soil types, and usage requirements. Common grass species used in turf include Kentucky bluegrass, Bermuda grass, fescue, and ryegrass, among others. These varieties vary in characteristics such as color, texture, growth rate, and tolerance to foot traffic and environmental stressors.

Benefits of Turf:

Enhances Aesthetics: Turf instantly transforms barren landscapes into lush, inviting green spaces, enhancing the visual appeal of residential, commercial, and recreational areas.

Soil Erosion Control: The dense root system of turf effectively binds soil particles, preventing erosion caused by wind and water runoff.

Temperature Regulation: Turf acts as a natural insulator, moderating soil temperature and reducing heat absorption, thus contributing to cooler outdoor environments.

Air Quality Improvement: Grass in turf absorbs carbon dioxide and releases oxygen, helping to purify the air and mitigate pollution.

Recreational Utility: Turf provides a safe and comfortable surface for various recreational activities such as sports, picnics, and leisurely strolls.

Noise Reduction: The dense vegetation of turf absorbs sound waves, minimizing noise pollution in urban and suburban areas.

Installation Methods: Installing turf involves several key steps to ensure successful establishment and long-term viability:

Site Preparation: Clear the area of debris, weeds, and existing vegetation. Grade the soil surface to ensure proper drainage and smoothness.

Soil Amendment: Test the soil pH and nutrient levels. Amend the soil as needed with organic matter, fertilizers, and lime to create an optimal growing environment for turf.

Turf Selection: Choose high-quality turf suitable for the site's climate, soil conditions, and intended use.

Installation: Lay the turf rolls or pieces tightly together in a staggered pattern, ensuring minimal gaps between seams. Use a roller to press the turf firmly into the soil and eliminate air pockets.

Watering: Immediately after installation, thoroughly water the turf to promote root establishment. Maintain consistent moisture levels during the initial establishment period.

Maintenance: Regularly mow, fertilize, aerate, and irrigate the turf to promote healthy growth and prevent weed infestation.

Maintenance Practices: Proper maintenance is essential for preserving the vitality and appearance of turf:

Mowing: Set the mower blades at an appropriate height to avoid scalping the grass. Regular mowing encourages dense growth and discourages weed invasion.Check here for all the latest news.

Fertilization: Apply balanced fertilizers according to soil test recommendations to supply essential nutrients and promote vigorous turf growth.

Irrigation: Water the turf deeply and infrequently to encourage deep root penetration and drought tolerance. Avoid overwatering, which can lead to shallow roots and susceptibility to diseases.

Aeration: Periodically aerate the turf to alleviate soil compaction and promote air, water, and nutrient infiltration into the root zone.

Weed Control: Implement cultural practices such as proper mowing height and adequate fertilization to suppress weed growth. Spot treat or use herbicides judiciously to manage persistent weed infestations.

Pest and Disease Management: Monitor the turf regularly for signs of pest infestation or disease development. Implement integrated pest management strategies to minimize chemical inputs and maintain turf health.

Environmental Significance: Turf ecosystems contribute to environmental sustainability in various ways:

Carbon Sequestration: Grasses in turf capture and store atmospheric carbon dioxide through photosynthesis, helping mitigate climate change by reducing greenhouse gas concentrations.

Stormwater Management: The dense root systems of turfgrass enhance soil infiltration rates, reducing stormwater runoff and alleviating the burden on drainage systems.

Biodiversity Support: Turf habitats provide food and shelter for diverse wildlife species, including insects, birds, and small mammals, contributing to local biodiversity conservation efforts.

Heat Island Mitigation: Green spaces covered with turf help mitigate urban heat islands by reducing surface temperatures through evapotranspiration and shading effects.

Soil Health Enhancement: Turfgrass roots promote soil structure and microbial activity, enhancing soil fertility, water retention, and nutrient cycling.

Recreational and Social Benefits: Turf-covered parks and recreational areas offer valuable spaces for outdoor recreation, relaxation, and community gatherings, fostering physical and mental well-being among residents.

Conclusion: Turf stands as a versatile and indispensable element of urban and rural landscapes, providing aesthetic, ecological, and functional benefits to society. By understanding the diverse types, benefits, installation methods, maintenance practices, and environmental significance of turf, we can promote its sustainable management and maximize its positive contributions to the environment and human well-being.

Whether adorning residential lawns, sports fields, or public parks, turf remains a symbol of natural beauty and environmental stewardship in our modern world.

[greenerlawn]

Revamp Your Outdoor Area: The Ultimate Guide to Turf Installation in Sydney

Are you tired of looking at a dull and lifeless outdoor space? It's time to transform it into your lush green oasis with turf installation! Imagine stepping outside to a vibrant, soft carpet of grass under your feet - all without the hassle of mowing or weeding. In this complete guide, we'll walk you through everything you need about turf installation in Sydney. Say goodbye to boring yards and hello to your new outdoor paradise!

What is Turf Installation and Why Should You Consider It?

Turf installation involves laying down pre-cultivated grass rolls or patches to create a lush and uniform lawn in your outdoor space. It offers an instant transformation, turning barren areas into green havens that enhance the aesthetic appeal of your property.

Choosing turf installation for your outdoor space has many benefits. Not only does it improve the overall look and feel of your yard, but it also helps reduce soil erosion, provide a safe play area for children and pets, and increase property value. Additionally, turf acts as a natural air purifier by absorbing carbon dioxide and releasing oxygen into the environment.

By opting for turf installation, you can say goodbye to muddy patches, uneven terrain, and endless maintenance tasks associated with natural grass. Enjoy a beautiful lawn all year round without worrying about watering schedules or patchy growth. Transform your outdoor space with turf installation today!

Benefits of Turf Installation for Your Outdoor Space

Transforming your outdoor space with turf installation can bring a plethora of benefits that go beyond just aesthetics. One significant advantage is the reduction in maintenance efforts required to keep your lawn looking lush and green. With turf, you can say goodbye to mowing, watering, and weeding regularly.

Moreover, turf installation provides excellent drainage capabilities, preventing waterlogging during rainy seasons and ensuring a mud-free surface for outdoor activities. This feature especially benefits homes prone to heavy rainfall or soil erosion issues.

Additionally, synthetic turfs are durable and resilient against high foot traffic, making them perfect for families with children or pets who love spending time outdoors. The soft texture of artificial grass also creates a comfortable play area while minimizing the risk of injuries from falls compared to natural grass surfaces.

Incorporating turf into your outdoor space enhances the overall look and adds value to your property. Whether used for residential landscaping or commercial purposes, turf installation offers long-term cost savings by eliminating the need for constant upkeep and replacements commonly associated with traditional lawns.

Step-by-Step Guide to Installing Turf in Your Outdoor Space

First, prepare the area where you want to install the turf. Clear any debris and ensure the soil is level for a smooth installation process.

Next, measure the space accurately to determine how much turf you need. Order slightly more than necessary to account for any cutting or shaping required during installation.

Before laying down the turf rolls, water the area thoroughly. This will help soften the soil and create a good foundation for your new lawn.

Begin laying the turf rolls in a staggered pattern to avoid visible seams. Use a sharp knife to trim edges as needed and fit pieces together seamlessly.

Once all the turf is in place, water it generously to help it settle into its new home. Regular watering and maintenance will ensure your newly installed turf thrives and stays lush for years!

Tips for Maintaining and Caring for Your New Turf

Maintaining and caring for your new turf is essential to keep it looking lush and healthy all year round. One critical tip is regularly watering your turf, especially during hot weather or dry spells. Make sure to water deeply but infrequently to encourage profound root growth.

Mowing your turf at the correct height is crucial in maintaining its health. To prevent stress on the turf, avoid cutting more than one-third of the grass blade length in a single mow, and keep your mower blades sharp, ensuring clean cuts that promote healthier grass growth.

Regularly fertilizing your turf with the appropriate nutrients will help sustain its vibrancy and resilience against pests and diseases. Be mindful not to over-fertilize, as this can lead to excessive growth and potential damage.

Removing weeds promptly by hand or with herbicides designed explicitly for turf will prevent them from competing with your grass for essential nutrients and water. Following these maintenance tips, you can enjoy a beautiful green lawn that enhances your outdoor space for years.

Understanding Turf Installation

Understanding Turf Installation is crucial when transforming your outdoor space into a lush and inviting area.

Turf installation involves laying pre-grown grass onto prepared soil, creating an instant green lawn. It's a popular choice for homeowners looking for a quick and efficient way to enhance their outdoor living areas.

Before starting the installation process, it's essential to assess the condition of your soil and ensure proper drainage. This will help promote healthy turf growth in the long run.

Properly preparing the ground by removing any existing grass or weeds, leveling the soil, and adding nutrients will create an optimal environment for your new turf to thrive.

Whether you're installing turf for aesthetic purposes or for practical reasons like reducing maintenance, understanding the basics of turf installation is critical to achieving successful results.

[roadrcnner]

this divine kinship: you could call them something estranged of siblings had either of them been willing enough to commit to such a thing. it's nice to teeter around the likes of such a bond, to run your finger along the seam of a knowingness and acknowledge that it was best left just as it were. such a bond had not been meant for tampering. solomon does not see anyone often, certainly not lux & that was just as he preferred it. unwanted as they were, these spare moments were best savored when they had been infrequent. head lolls and a small laught flitters up, hand coursed through sweat-damp curls. though there is a brief wondering as to how exactly lux had known how old he was. "i might be gettin' old but don't forget you're reachin' a hand or two out for forty yourself, kid." it's a sardonic, mockery of a tiff: what solomon could have expected if they had truly been bound by womb. solomon pushed himself forward from where he had perched on the car hood, accepting the sweating glass bottle. "what you need is a haircut," crooked grin and a nudge to their shoulder as pope breezed past them, turning on his heel at last to face them. "⸻what is it, lux?"

the usual days that she posts up here are few and far between. it would never be admitted to, but there is something solacing about being at the garage, even if most of the time it came from a deep-rooted desire to be a clear nuisance to the man under the car. they'd find a place to sit that clearly was not for sitting and listen to the cacophony that comes from pope working on whatever project he had for the day, lux would give him shit for no reason and he'd give as good as he gets. it toes the line between something sickeningly familiar and yet it's foreign all the same and it's a line that must never be crossed. it's one lux will haul themself by the collar away from when they slip closer to the danger of allowing themself to make the connections they never want to make — luckily today it's just a little different. today, she needs something from him.

when he calls out to her, she's holding two bottles of cheap bear and offers a lopsided grin in greeting. lux cocks her head to the side to take in the car, gives a halfhearted shrug, "sure, but there's no way you'll get it running. what is that, ‘91? christ, it’s as old as you." most of her automobile knowledge comes from him, aside from the few times she'd try to haul herself up to look into the hood of her father's car when she was little. lux chooses not to credit the man when she can, though. they offer pope one of the bottles, very clearly trying to butter him up before sticking the question. though it kills her to say it, lux takes a breath and cuts the bullshit. "i need a favor."

[jgthirlwell]

Ghost Ensemble performing the world premiere of Catherine Lamb’s Exterius / Interius at the tribute to Richard Teitelbaum concert at Roulette Intermedium NYC. Event organized by James Ilgenfritz. With Margaret Lancaster (flute), Sky Macklay (oboe), Ben Richter (accordion), Chris Nappi (percussion), Lucia Stavros (harp), Martine Thomas (viola), Tyler J. Borden (cello), James Ilgenfritz (contrabass), and Kyle Motl (contrabass), with special guests Catherine Lamb (viola), Katie Porter (clarinet), Jen Baker (trombone), and Thomas Verchot (trumpet).

[dustedmagazine]

Eli Wallace — Precepts (Infrequent Seams)

The oft-cited and rarely explicated relationship between composition and improvisation rears its head, again, on this four-part studio recording. Pianist Eli Wallace refers to his enigmatic Precepts as a composition. There are instances when it is a scholar’s blessing to get a gander at the nuts and bolts scattered over the table of a composer’s workshop, as with Anthony Braxton’s Ghost Trance musical system. Then, at other times, it’s almost better to grab the sonic currency and run. Precepts stands firmly in the latter camp.

Pianist and composer Wallace gathered violinist Erica Dicker, cellist Lester St. Louis and bassist Sean Ali to read his rubric, or at least that’s the word used to describe the graphic score Ali prepared for performance in the time of COVID. Any pitches are as much suggested as prescribed, no rehearsal is required, and while performers are indeed assigned pitches, they are at liberty to play those belonging to others. It all adds up to music with which it’s better simply to journey through than obsess over compositional details.

Take the magical opening of the second movement; it lurches to life only to grind nearly to a halt, or at least toward a moment of stasis. That moment is full of the inner workings of a session, the subtle motions of preparation and execution so important to the musician’s syntax, and that’s what makes the moment so special. It’s a fairly spare stretch of sound on the whole, but that near-silence renders each instant important in ways a score can only intimate, such as what my ear labels a particularly effective diminished chord at 6:33. More than any compositional elucidations, that fraught and multi-dimensional relationship governs active listening into the music’s progression, especially the gorgeously harmonic first section of the final movement, where sonority is in a constant state of developmental flux, shifting octave and timbre from moment to fluid moment. In a way, everything preceding has prepared for it.

It would be too easy and a trifle dismissive to chart a course veering between the first and third movements’ relative saturation to the second and fourth’s spare reflectivity. Each has elements of the other, and, pitched or not, the music gathers and disperses in mystical masses of sound, silence and all areas in-between. If Wallace’s score elicits such amalgamations, so much the better, but the quartet of experienced musicians and a visceral production are certainly key to the album’s success.

Marc Medwin