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#tracy taylor
imperfectfragilediary · 2 months
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Porter Magazine September 2019
Lucy Boynton by Nicolas Kantor
Styled by Tracy Taylor
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nwonitro · 2 months
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AMBER "The Bullet Babe" O'NEAL is just too sweet as she upsets Tracy Taylor for the Global Women's Championship!
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llhmua · 1 year
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The Edit by Net-a-Porter March 21th, 2013 They Will Be Dunn Photographer: Ben Toms Model: Jourdan Dunn Styling: Tracy Taylor Hair: Raphael Salley Make-Up: Hiromi Ueda Nails: Chisato Yamamoto
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aagdolla · 2 years
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Tracy Taylor at NYFW 2022 September
by aagdolla
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copblood · 1 year
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here’s 75 Actually Sapphic artists who actually like girls and make Actual gay people music about loving women (for those lost soul dykes who think taylor swift is a gay icon for some reason)
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evermoredeluxe · 2 months
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Taylor during the performance of Fast Car by Tracy Chapman and Luke Combs at the 2024 GRAMMYS (x)
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tessabennet · 1 year
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Barbie as my favourite female vocalists edition
Band lead singer Ken edition
80s rock singer Ken edition
80s singer Barbie edition
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2008hondacivic · 9 months
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Yellowjackets x Ash by Tracy K. Smith
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ruelatrashhy · 2 years
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pieces of me
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myfavoritevoices · 2 months
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daisymaycries · 5 months
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Lackadaisy (Taylor’s Version)
Happy 1989 TV to all who celebrate!
RIP Rocky, you would have loved the line “Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die”
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imperfectfragilediary · 2 months
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Porter Magazine February 2018
Andreea Diaconu by Alique
Styled by Tracy Taylor
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fuckyeahgoodomens · 2 years
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gumnut-logic · 1 month
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“Thunderbird Five, I need more information.”
“I’m sorry, Commander, I don’t have any. Too much electrical interference.”
Jeff cursed under his breath. He knew John was doing his best, but there had been so many lives lost today.
Lee wasn’t happy. All the data they had pointed to a structural fault in the mall that caused the collapse. It left Jeff grateful that his engineering son wasn’t here for the incident. Virgil reminded him of Lucy when he went off the deep end – rare but a force of nature.
But today Virgil was with Gordon for a very important moment in his little brother’s swimming career.
Jeff was disappointed that he wasn’t there for Gordon, but responsibilities were responsibilities.
“Commander?” His eldest son was covered in dust. Jeff noted the dark smears on his arms but didn’t have the time to acknowledge what they meant.
The fire in Scott’s eyes was enough.
Jeff let out a sigh. “John can’t get more detail, so we are going in almost blind.” A breath and he stared at the remaining pile of crumpled masonry. “We’ll have Two lift off that piece of roof and go from there.”
“Two is not going to be happy.”
“Yeah, well, none of us are happy. “
“FAB.”
A glance as his son started issuing commands to the team. Jeff allowed himself the briefest flash of pride. Scott had become a mainstay of International Rescue and Jeff was ever so proud.
The roar of a Thunderbird shifting overhead and Two appeared, her VTOL reflecting Lee’s mood, no doubt. His partner-in-crime had been a great help the last couple of years, filling in to help with IR when he was available. Jeff envisioned that one day perhaps all his family could be involved, so it was great to have his brother-in-law on the job.
After all IR was to be his sister’s legacy.
Lucy was never far from Jeff’s thoughts, particularly today.
She would have been so angry.
Jeff had to settle for being her vengeance.
The clunk of all four of Two’s grapples as they clamped onto the broken roof. A roar of energised VTOL and the roof lifted ever so slowly.
Slowly not because Two wasn’t capable of lifting it easily, but slow and carefully in an attempt to protect the lives possibly below it.
And they were rewarded. As the weak and wintery southern Californian sun flickered onto the newly exposed rubble, there were voices, both terrified and relieved.
Jeff signalled to Kyrano and Scott and all three of them moved to evac the rescuees.
Thirteen in total. Five didn’t make it.
They dug deeper with Two pulling off smaller and smaller pieces of rubble. Jeff found himself wishing for some kind of mechanism to lift the rocks himself. A pod wasn’t practical in this space and it hampered their progress.
The weak sun headed towards the horizon.
Virgil checked it with the good news that Gordon had won and had another trophy for his collection.
Jeff gritted his teeth as he hauled out yet another poor soul who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Scott found someone to save and for some critical moments there was activity to keep that life going. Jeff’s heart clenched as he shifted more rubble.
The night crawled over the sky and powerful lamps were set up.
It was far too many hours later when they called it. Jeff was exhausted. They were all exhausted.
He gave the order to pack up and retreat. It was always a dreaded order, but they had scoured the site and there were no signs of life left. John had managed to penetrate the majority of the electrical disturbance, which had been a relief…
“Commander?”
Jeff blinked. John sounded worried. “Thunderbird Five?”
“I’m getting a fragmentary lifesign signal. Unconfirmed.” A pause and the sound of his son pushing buttons. “I can’t clear it up. I’m sending coordinates.”
Jeff’s wristcomm flickered into life, a map of the site with the location flashing. It was in the remains of what used to be an ice cream palour. His heart dropped. “FAB, Thunderbird Five.”
He jogged over, steeling himself for what he might find. The shadows were hard and sharp, sketching out the remains of what had been a cheerful, family place. Innocuous everyday objects discarded in a disaster zone always forced him to face the horror of their existence. A statement made of the tragedy by the tragedy and the sight of the remains of ice cream tubs, tables, chairs and even broken cones in the dark dust stabbed him where it hurt.
But there were no signs of life.
He shifted rubble and moved the tables. A counter and a gaily painted menu revealed nothing of their patrons or owners.
It was all eerily silent.
Until someone whimpered.
“Can you hear me? This is International Rescue. We are here to help. Please respond.”
A pause.
No answer.
So, he repeated himself in Spanish.
The silence was ominous.
But then there was another whimper. Followed by a whine.
Jeff moved, throwing broken fixtures out of his way, narrowing in on the sound.
It wasn’t until he picked up yet another upturned ice cream tub that he realised his rescuee wasn’t human.
Curled up fearfully in the dirt was a tiny little puppy, barely recognisable, drenched in melted ice confection.
A pair of wide dark eyes looked up at Jeff in fear.
Jeff didn’t hesitate. A life was a life and he was the son of farmers as well as adventurers.
“Hey, there, little one.” He held out a gloved hand for the puppy to sniff. “I won’t hurt you.” Tone was everything.
The puppy stared at him a moment as if considering, whimpered, and tentatively sniffed at his finger.
A pitiful whine broke Jeff’s heart.
Ever so carefully, he gently picked up the puppy. When the dog didn’t protest, he stood slowly, bringing the little creature to his chest.
It shivered in the cold.
Its eyes never left Jeff’s.
He crooned nonsense words and he hurried over towards Thunderbird Two.
Lee met him halfway, all the questions on his face. Jeff shushed him with a look.
Up Two’s ramp and he found the supplies and the quiet he needed.
Gently placing the trembling puppy on a hastily gathered emergency blanket. It whined in fear.
Jeff yanked off his helmet and the smell of damp earth, broken rock and burning electronics made it up his nose, but a stronger, sweeter smell fought it all off.
The little puppy smelled of pink sherbet and childhood memories.
It whimpered again, and as Scott strode past with Lee in prep for lift off, Jeff picked up Sherbet and clutched the little dog to his chest again.
If Jeff rode home with Lee instead of with Scott on One, which was his usual choice, it was his right as Commander to not have to explain himself.
There would be questions and inquiries as to the puppy’s owner, but there was something in the little dog’s eyes that just entranced Jeff. As if it was some cosmic meant to be.
“Got yourself another kid there, Tracy?” The smirk on Lee’s face as they approached Tracy Island was fond and irritating.
Jeff glared at him. But if he was honest with himself, maybe Lee was right?
He brushed a finger over its tiny furry forehead.
It was still staring at him.
Quiet. “I’m here to help.”
He ignored Lee’s snort, as the puppy finally curled up and relaxed in his hands, promptly falling asleep.
-o-o-o-
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pareidoliaonthemove · 6 months
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Child Care
Jeff snorted. “Okay, so you saved the day, and they took you in like a stray dog. So what do you do?”
“What do I do? I do plenty! I plan out their away missions, oversee maintenance of the complex, sorted out how to defend against solar flares and radiation damage, and …” Lee trailed off, his face reddening.
Jeff raised an eyebrow. “And?” he prompted.
Lee’s drink was apparently the most fascinating thing in the world. He mumbled something softly.
“Uh, Lee?” He looked up. Jeff pointed at his ear. “These don’t work so good anymore. What ya say?”
His face bright red, and unable to look his friend in the face, Lee muttered, “Help look after the kids.”
The was a long silence.
“You … help …” Jeff said slowly, his voice sounding strangled. “… look after … kids?”
“Yeah.”
“Human … kids … not … … goats?”
“Yeah.”
Jeff Tracy laughed.
It started out as a belly laugh, and gradually morphed into near hysterics, as tears rolled down Jeff’s face, and he was forced to double over, clutching his chest and belly as muscles long unaccustomed to this activity protested vehemently.
The sound drew attention, and pretty soon the rest of the island’s occupants were edging closer, alarmedly considering the need for a medical evac, and trying to determine symptoms.
Gradually, the laughter subsided into hiccoughs. And Jeff lay limp on his sun lounger, panting to regain his breath and manage the pain.
Lee sat rigid, staring at the horizon, the picture of dignified bearing of wounded pride.
“Ya finished?” Lee asked gruffly, when his friend finally fell into silence.
“Yep.” A stray giggle betrayed the lie.
“Um … everything all right?” It was Scott who found his voice first.
“All good boys. Lee here was just filling me in on what exactly,” another giggle, “it is he does with the colony on Mars.”
“Oh-kay.” Scott looked back at his family for assistance.
Grandma spoke up. “So what is it you do, then, Lee?”
Lee sighed. “I oversee authorised,” he eyed Virgil and Alan, “expeditions. I help ‘em with the maintenance, sorted out their long term problems with solar flares and the like, and I help look after –” he eyed Jeff “– the kids.”
Jeff snorted a laugh, but with effort managed to restrain himself.
His family was mystified.
All but one.
Grandma smiled widely, “Well, I guess those kids don’t have much in the way of art supplies.”
Jeff gave a strangled howl, before giving into a fresh round of laughter, as Lee leapt to his feet, and pointed an accusing finger at a startled Virgil.
“This is all your fault!”
Virgil stared. “Me! How …?!”
Lee glared back at Jeff, before continuing in a high-pitched sing-song voice, “‘Uncle Lee, can I paint the baby?’” His voice dropped back to its normal, albeit indignant, register. “How the hell was I supposed to know you didn’t mean you wanted to paint a picture of the baby?”
Gordon and Alan glared suspiciously at Virgil, who was looking sheepish even though he clearly didn’t remember the incident referred to, as everyone else joined Jeff in laughing.
Grandma pulled out her phone, and after a minute, pulled up picture. “Here.”
The photograph showed absolute chaos. Lucy was clearly berating a defensive Lee (the buzz cut and moustache had never changed), a smirking Jeff was scolding a distraught, paint-splatted Virgil … and Scott and John were surveying a sleeping new-born baby, whose every inch of exposed skin (and much of his surrounds) were covered in brightly painted spots, stripes, and abstract shapes.
Jeff, still chuckling, heaved himself up from his lounger, and made his way to his middle son, slinging an arm around his shoulders. “There really wasn’t much we could say to you,” he grinned. “After all, you did have permission, and for some reason at no point had your mother and I thought to forbid you from using Gordon as a canvas.”
He turned to Gordon, whose expression now promised many many vengeance pranks in Virgil’s future. “And I don’t know why you’re so upset. You had your first bath after that,” Jeff shook his head. “We’ve been struggling to keep you out of the water ever since.”
Jeff turned back to Lee. “We should have known better than to ask you to watch the boys while we had a nap. You’d have thought we’d have learned after you babysat Scott, for us.”
Scott’s laughter turned to alarm as he eyed his father’s – very sheepish – best friend. “What did he do to me?!”
Notes:
Yeah, so … when babysitting kids, make darn sure you know EXACTLY what it is they’re asking before you give permission.
The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)
I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.
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lgbtqreads · 4 months
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Most Anticipated Queer Middle Grade: January-June 2024
The Curse of Eelgrass Bog by Mary Averling (January 2nd) Nothing about Kess Pedrock’s life is normal. Not her home (she lives in her family’s Unnatural History Museum), not her interests (hunting for megafauna fossils and skeletons), and not her best friend (a talking demon’s head in a jar named Shrunken Jim).But things get even stranger than usual when Kess meets Lilou Starling, the new girl in…
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