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iniziare · 3 months ago

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Seele's attire. Alright, as much as I don't like going 'screw it' at canonical attire 'cause I'm (mocking voice:) 'canon strict' and all that, I do want to elaborate on the kind of diversity you'd find her wearing. Because just like how she likely got a Silvermane Guard rifle refashioned into her trademark melee weapon, the scythe, I think that Seele is very much someone who makes the best out of anything she can find. After all, she lived on the streets for a very long time, and in a way still does.

When quite young, and well into her teenage years, Seele would have worn the same things for as long as they were no longer usable, and usually that would mean when they got ruined in one way or another, which usually was because they got very torn up (a reminder that she was homeless for numerous of her very young years, 'dirty' wouldn't have been a reason to discard anything). As she aged a little bit, she would literally take a discarded shirt or pair of pants that she would find in the streets, and fashion it into something wearable. As a kid, this meant, for instance, gathering the oversized bulk of a shirt, and tying it into a knot at her back or side— and as a teenager, it meant tearing away what was impractical, or cutting the legs off a pair of jeans, or rolling them up so it was more cuffed. 'Style' didn't matter, it was all about surviving the cold, and then as she got more versed in combat (and became part of Wildfire), it also had to be practical. Because she stays so very active, but also due to having spent so much time outside as she grew up before she ever 'became part of' the Underworld's orphanage (quotation marks used, because nothing indicates that she ever stayed in it, whether by her own choice or otherwise), she has acclimated more to the cold than others. This is why she will more commonly be found in shorts, with mismatched high socks, legwarmers, or even tights, along with t-shirts (sleeves rolled up, and kept rolled up during intense activity with hair-ties, or bits of rope/string wrapped around) or sleeveless tops that will be complimented with gloves or arm-warmers. In adulthood, Seele has only become more practical, and does actively choose to wear things that keep her warm, but it's mainly due to the fabrics of the clothing that she wears, choosing things that absorb and retain body heat that comes from her highly active lifestyle. From afar, it might not dawn on people that these items of clothing actually do that for her, but if you look closer— you'll notice that a lot of her outfits consist of nylon, fleece, and cotton flannel. Not ideal, but they get the job done decently well. As for when she's 'home', you'll find her putting on random old hoodies, or oversized sweaters, cardigans, flannels, and she'd throw them over whatever she's already wearing, colors or matching don't matter. Seele personifies the 'mix and match' concept, though not out of preference, but simply because she'll wear whatever's most practical. As for shoes? Most appear to be combat boots, usually without heel, but she'll also wear sneakers, or whatever she gets her hands on when her previous pair of shoes got ruined. She'll wear something beyond the last inch of its life and then some.

But most importantly, and the only thing that's fundamental to her: is that she will always have, in one way or another, the scarf that Oleg gave her (or once it inevitably got torn and ruined, one to replace it), the one that marks her place in Wildfire. Not to show-off, but so that people can see that they're there, always, and that they'll never stop fighting to make the Underworld a better place. No matter what she wears, it'll either be around her wrist, or arm, or neck, or tied to a belt. It'll be somewhere on her. Always.

"Wear this red scarf, and then we shall share each other's pain." "We are family. We are Wildfire."

#[ seele. ] we tell them 'things will be better tomorrow.' everyone knows it's a lie; but it gets them to sleep with some hope.#[ seele: meta. ] she got used to people losing their homes. and she got used to people losing their lives. but crying alone was useless.

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cleverhottubmiracle · 10 days ago

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Whether you’re a seasoned fashion vet or a fresh-faced menswear noob, basics are the foundation of every great wardrobe. Sure, it’s incumbent on the best clothing brands for men to push the envelope to new limits, but before you get there, you need to start from square one. Even GQ editors had to master the fundamentals, and even Tyler, the Creator has a go-to plain white tee.A crisp Oxford shirt; the perfect bodega-run sweatshirt; a roomy pair of chinos—these are the mitochondria of your wardrobe’s cells, if you will, the powerhouses that keep your style stable from season to season, year after year. But just because a white T-shirt boasts designer origins doesn't mean it's worth the money. So we gathered the best men's clothing brands to stock up on right now, 20 labels that consistently deliver unbeatable value, craftsmanship, and versatility—along with a handful of other tried-and-true men's fashion brands to help you on your journey.The Not-So-Basic Wardrobe Basics Every Guy Should OwnThe Genre-Defining Sweats: Champion Reverse Weave Sweatpants, $50The Bulk-Buy Tees: CDLP Midweight T-Shirt, $98The De-Fussed Striped Shirt: Alex Mill Mill Shirt, $165The Dad-Approved Sweater: L.L.Bean Fisherman Sweater, $100The Giant Chinos: J.Crew Giant-Fit Chino Pants, $98The Do-Anything Shorts: Patagonia Baggies Shorts, $65The Fun Socks (That Aren't “Fun Socks”): Uniqlo Colorful 50 Socks, $5The Leveled-Up Undies: Skims Boxer Briefs (3-Pack), $46The Classic Watch: Todd Snyder x Timex Q Reissue Watch, $179The Definitive Polo: Polo Ralph Lauren Iconic Rugby Shirt, $138In This Shopping GuideAccordionItemContainerButtonThe One-Stop-ShopsJ.CrewJ.Crew is well past its early-2010s heyday of Italian blazers, selvedge jeans, and loafers, but under the direction of streetwear royalty Brendon Babenzien it remains the best place to find quintessential preppy staples at prices that belie the quality involved. The brand still makes some great suiting. which can get you by at the office (or even nab you a promotion), but its east coast history means you can also sink into some sumptuous cable knit sweaters and Madras button-ups. And don't forget to check out their in-house workwear-inspired label, Wallace & Barnes, which could easily pass as true vintage grails.J.CrewCashmere Crewneck SweaterJ.CrewBroken-in Organic Cotton Oxford ShirtJ.CrewRelaxed-fit Blazer In Scottish Wool HerringboneL.L.BeanDads love a deal, and dads love L.L.Bean. That affection is largely due to the unbeatable value proposition the brand offers on the build-blocks gear your old man wears on the daily. Be more like your dad. You might know them for their famed Bean boot. Good! But you should also know them for their top-tier flannel shirts, surprisingly sturdy denim, and classically gorp-y outdoor gear.L.L.BeanScotch Plaid Flannel ShirtL.L.BeanClassic Ragg Wool Cardigan

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norajworld · 10 days ago

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ellajme0 · 10 days ago

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chilimili212 · 10 days ago

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oliviajoyice21 · 10 days ago

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sophiajone25301 · 9 months ago

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Wholesale Flannel Socks Supplier

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jazzlrsposts · 6 months ago

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Staying Cozy Looking Cool Seasonal Styling Tips for Your Western Wardrobe

Styling tips in summer with western wear

Summer styling with western wear can be both chic and comfortable. Here are some tips to keep you looking great while staying cool:

1. Light Fabrics: Opt for breathable materials like cotton, linen, or lightweight denim. These fabrics will help keep you cool and comfortable in the heat.

2. Shorts and Skirts: Embrace summer by wearing western shorts or skirts. High-waisted shorts paired with a tucked-in blouse or a flowy skirt with a cropped top can create a stylish yet casual look.

3. Tank Tops and Tees: Choose tank tops or lightweight tees with interesting details like lace trims, embroidery, or unique prints. These add a touch of western flair without adding bulk.

4. Layer Smartly: While summer can be hot, evenings can get cool. Layer with lightweight denim jackets or vests. Opt for a distressed or fringed denim jacket to enhance the western vibe.

5. Cowboy Boots: Classic cowboy boots can be worn with shorts or dresses for a fun twist. Choose a lighter color or material to avoid overheating.

6. Accessories: Incorporate western accessories like a stylish belt with a statement buckle, a wide-brimmed hat, or layered necklaces. These can elevate your look without adding too much warmth.

7. Dresses: A western-inspired dress, such as one with fringe, embroidery, or a prairie style, can be both elegant and cool. Look for dresses in light fabrics and vibrant colors or prints.

8. Breezy Layers: Light, flowing layers like kimonos or shawls can add a touch of western style while allowing airflow.

9. Colors and Prints: Go for lighter colors and vibrant prints that reflect the summer spirit. Floral patterns, stripes, and pastels can add a fresh look to your western wear.

10. Keep it Simple: Sometimes less is more. Stick to a few key pieces and avoid over-accessorizing. This helps in maintaining a balanced and cool look.

With these tips, you can effortlessly blend western wear with summer style, keeping your look both fashionable and comfortable

Winter tips

Winter styling with western wear can be both cozy and chic. Here are some tips to keep you stylish and warm:

1. Layer Up: Start with a thermal base layer for added warmth. Then, layer with western-inspired pieces like flannel shirts or denim jackets. A wool or wool-blend vest over a flannel can add both warmth and style.

2. Heavy-Duty Outerwear: Invest in a quality western-style coat or jacket. Options like a shearling-lined jacket, a wool duster, or a classic trench with western details can keep you warm while enhancing your look.

3. Denim and Corduroy: Opt for thicker denim or corduroy pants and skirts. Pair them with tall boots to keep warm and add a western touch.

4. Cowboy Boots: Choose a pair of cowboy boots with a warm lining or pair them with thick, warm socks. They add a western flair and keep your feet cozy.

5. Sweaters and Knitwear: Go for chunky knit sweaters or cardigans in western-inspired patterns or textures. Look for designs with fringe, embroidery, or plaid patterns for a rustic touch.

6. Plaid and Checks: Incorporate plaid or checkered patterns, which are often associated with western wear. A plaid shirt, scarf, or skirt can add warmth and a classic western vibe.

7. Accessories: Layer on scarves, hats, and gloves with western motifs. A wide-brimmed hat, wool beanie, or a statement belt can enhance your look while keeping you warm.

8. Layered Skirts: For a feminine touch, layer a western-inspired skirt over thermal leggings or tights. Pair with a cozy sweater and boots for a balanced look.

9. Fringe and Embroidery: Don’t shy away from western details like fringe or embroidery. These elements can be incorporated into jackets, sweaters, or accessories for a distinctive western touch.

10. Warm Fabrics: Opt for warm fabrics like wool, tweed, and flannel. These materials not only keep you warm but also add a classic, rugged feel to your western outfits.

Combining these elements will help you stay stylish and warm while embracing western wear throughout the winter season.

Tips for rainy season

Styling western wear during the rainy season requires a balance of practicality and style. Here are some tips to keep you looking great while staying dry:

1. Waterproof Outerwear: Invest in a stylish raincoat or trench coat with western details. Look for materials like coated cotton or waterproof nylon to keep you dry. A classic trench or a sleek rain jacket can add a polished look while protecting you from the elements.

2. Layer Smart: Layering is key. Choose moisture-wicking base layers and opt for breathable fabrics to stay comfortable. A lightweight western-inspired jacket or vest can be added over your raincoat for extra warmth when needed.

3. Waterproof Footwear: Opt for waterproof cowboy boots or stylish rain boots. Look for designs that have western elements, such as stitching or embossed patterns. Ensure they have good traction to prevent slipping.

4. Umbrellas and Hats: A wide-brimmed hat or a cowboy hat with a waterproof material can add a western flair while protecting your head from rain. An umbrella in a classic or western-inspired print can also be a stylish accessory.

5. Quick-Dry Fabrics: Choose clothing made from quick-dry materials that won’t get soggy. This includes synthetic fibers or treated denim that dries faster than traditional fabrics.

6. Plaid and Checks: Incorporate plaid or checkered patterns that evoke a western vibe. A plaid shirt or scarf can be both functional and stylish. Just make sure they are made from water-resistant materials.

7. Layered Skirts and Dresses: If you prefer skirts or dresses, layer them with tights or leggings to keep warm and dry. Pair with waterproof boots and a raincoat for a cohesive look.

8. Functional Accessories: Opt for practical accessories like a waterproof bag or a crossbody that can handle a bit of rain. Choose materials that are easy to clean and maintain.

9. Avoid Heavy Fabrics: In the rainy season, avoid heavy fabrics that take long to dry and can become uncomfortable when wet. Stick to lighter, quick-drying options.

10. Mix and Match: Combine traditional western wear with functional rain gear. For instance, pair a western-style shirt with a sleek, waterproof trench coat or combine denim with a stylish rain jacket.

By integrating these tips, you can navigate the rainy season while keeping your western-inspired style intact and functional.

#woman fashion #outfit #clothes for woman #woman western wear #womans fashion #woman dress #blog #style

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embalmic · 1 year ago

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small fingers tap against the dangling chain. like they're on their own fucking brain and debating opening it with or without her consent. green eyes scan back and forth across his face. there's a feeling in her gut. that she should open the door and let him in. something she'd never do to anyone should the circumstances plop someone else on her door. anyone else. they'd be told to hang out there on one of the weather beaten wooden adirondack chairs and she wouldn't feel a shred of guilt about looking out for herself in that situation.

..he just.. (a god damn tornado's gonna come and then she's gonna end up with him twisted around her fucking flag pole..that's her luck.)

her gaze narrows. not maliciously. she's thinking. listening to how he speaks. watching how he moves. every bit about her says she's judging him from head to toe. taking him in. and wondering.. why the hell they're crossing paths on a night like this. yeah his car broke down. the most classic excuse for anyone that'd want to get in her house. she has a thousand times confidence in herself and her means of keeping herself safe. reality says, however, that he's fucking three times her size (or more) and if he wanted to hurt her.. he could.

could but won't. there goes that gut feeling again. and the chain's dangling loose before she realizes it. bottom lip is pulled between her teeth. they chew on plump flesh as her other hand shoves into the pocket of a pair of loose red and black flannel lounge pants she's pulled on. cozy socked feet curl toes against the floor and she releases her lip with a puff of air bursting out in the heaviest sigh.

"listen. if i let you in and you murder me? that's pretty fucked up. cause i could've let you stand out there in the rain and freeze your ass off. remember that. there's better people out there that deserve to be six feet under. got it? don't make me regret this. fuck knows i don't need another one added to the list i have already." and with that, she steps back and swings her arm towards the hallway. an invitation.

"kick those boots off by the door? kitchen's in there.." her brows arch and her chin ticks past the living room towards the darkened kitchen lit with several dancing candles as the bulk of them are where they stand and where she was. "i'm laura. laura mccabe. why are you out on such a crazy night?"

it wasn't often that he had to travel through the horde in inclement weather and perhaps, that's why he spun out into the middle of the small town instead of closer to her doorstep. the allfather, as he was called, sent him to see who the person was that was projected to fall for shadow moon. unless it was disrupted by anything major, the two should meet in the coming months and become seriously engaged to one another within that next year.

after walking for nearly 45 minutes in the pouring rain, the only thing that wasn't wet was the outside of his boots. . . and they were waterproof. he was soaked entirely to the bone. sweeney was only supposed to be observing her as an outsider, but now? he was pissed. fucking right angry. so, he would be inserting himself into her life. fuck wednesday and his grand scheme. the leprechaun had no clue as to the end game of this plan. he was left in the dark and used as hired muscle — or the person to do tasks that wednesday deemed lesser than.

on her doorstep, fist rose and hesitated. he wondered, for only a moment, how terrible the repercussions of this interference would be. the chill running through his bones was the only reason he decided to throw care to the wind. knuckles rapped once. allowed a few moments between before they landed upon the door another time. the thunder and lightning would make it hard to hear so he decided it wouldn't hurt.

when the door opened a fraction, he was greeted with a door chain in the gap. eyes had to trail down to actually meet her face. god damn, she should be the fucking leprechaun, not him. ginger hair was plastered to his head and a hand raised to slick it back off of his forehead. ❝ i don't have the wrong house because i wasn't lookin' for anyone in particular. ❞ he paused and took a small step back from the door. it wouldn't make him take up any less of her entire door as he was, but he could try. ❝ mostly just wanted to get out of the rain. my car broke down and yours was the first house with enough light comin' from it that i knew someone was here. ❞ hand reached now to smooth over his damp beard and then land at his side. ❝ do you know the nearest place to stay? i need to dry off before i fuckin' freeze. ❞

#chapter two: days filled with searching. i don't even know what for. (prequel)#featuring: mad sweeney (blindsite)#blindsite #:>

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clothingflannel · 3 years ago

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Reasons Why you Should Choose Flannel Over Every Other Material

Are you somebody who has just come across this material? You would be surprised to know that it is the same old checked shirts that you found almost everywhere you turned! Yes, the plaid design is typical of flannel. These clothes are made of heavy-duty cotton, making them suitable for falls and winters. But you really would not mind to lend yourself to the benefit of styling during summers as…

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years ago

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ACITW AU one-shot - “Draining Pipes” (Rated M)

Summary: After Sebastian is accidentally exposed to Covid, Kurt convinces him to quarantine. While the rest of the city is slowly opening up, Kurt is returning to a life that resembles normal. But for Sebastian, home alone without his boyfriend, isolation is changing him. And Kurt has some concerns... (2063 words)

Notes: Yes, this is a pandemic fic, but I promise, it's funny XD

Read on AO3.

"Hi, honey! I'm home!"

"Nope. Try again."

Kurt's head snaps up so quickly he stutters a step, nearly tripping over his feet even though he'd already stopped walking. He glares at Sebastian from across the room as if the man had gotten up from his seat, strolled over, and, without a word, vomited rancid sushi all over his Manolo Blahniks. "What?"

In a tone reminiscent of one his NYADA dance teacher, Cassie July, used that made Kurt prickle from head to toe, Sebastian says, "Try. again."

"Try what again?"

"Walking through the door."

Kurt spins around to examine the doorway, searching for clues about what he could have possibly done incorrectly. "And what, pray tell, is wrong with the way I walk through the door!?"

"Every time you come home, you say, 'Hi, honey! I'm home!'"

"Yeah, and... ?"

"It's boring. Unoriginal. It harkens back to an era of television situation comedy that had no hand in influencing our generation and, frankly, regurgitating it is beneath you and your dramatic talents."

Kurt plants his hands on his hips and gawks. What the hell happened to his boyfriend while he was away? He was only gone four hours! "Have you been rifling through my old schoolbooks again? I told you, there was no Illuminati conspiracy going on at NYADA!"

"Why don't you try something different?" Sebastian counters, neither confirming nor denying Kurt's accusation. "Something a bit more, dare I say, exotic?"

"Exotic?" Kurt scrunches his nose with distaste when he says it. Of all the words in the English language, that's one of his least favorite. "What constitutes exotic in your twisted opinion?"

"I don't know. Think of something. You're the creative, not me."

"What? I... " A dozen arguments about how he's just gotten home, how exhausted he is, how travel between here and the theater was a pain in the ass because some people still don't seem to understand what 'over the mouth AND nose' means so navigating his way through the subway was like playing a game of human Tetris with potentially infected pieces and that he's never been all that good at Tetris anyway! die on his lips.

It would be a waste of breath.

Still, Kurt doesn't know why he indulges him, but he turns on his heel and walks back out the door. After a few seconds of deep breathing in the hall to keep from screaming bloody murder, he storms back in and brightly declares, "Buenos dias, motherfucker! Como what's up?"

Seeing as the two of them speak fluent French, Spanglish is the most exotic thing he could come up with.

Sebastian nods in stoic approval. "Better. How goes life on the apocalyptic landscape?"

"I'm not selling my body for Cocoa Krispies if that's what you're asking," Kurt quips, wondering if this is how Sebastian acts at work and how no one has put the man through a window yet, partner or not.

"So what I'm hearing is you didn't bring home Cocoa Krispies."

"Nope. Sorry."

"Bitch."

"Yeah, well... " Kurt removes his shoes and socks, then sheds his coat, his messenger bag, his slacks, and his dress shirt, carefully piling them on a chair by the front door - their staging area for decontamination. While he undresses, he eyes Sebastian, not paying him an inch of mind, sitting on what has been dubbed the convalescence corner of the sofa, dressed in a soft white tee and flannel lounge pants, his laptop open on legs covered by a quilt his mother made for him when he was ten. Sebastian knows for a fact that Kurt is undressing and yet he's not leering at him, wolf-whistling under his breath or licking his lips like he's watching an Outback Steakhouse commercial. He's simply sitting in his spot, eyes glued to his laptop screen.

And Kurt loathes it.

Sebastian's attentions have been waning more and more lately, and even though it's savagely bruising Kurt's ego, he can't blame him.

Depending on how they choose to look at things, this situation could kind of, slightly, sort of be deemed Kurt's fault.

"Thank you again for doing this," Kurt says, extending an olive branch. He's been doing this so often over the past few months, he's started buying in bulk. "I can't tell you how much you keeping your distance and staying home has put my mind at ease."

Sebastian doesn't look at him when he replies: "No sweat, babe."

"I know it was just one small cough... and the kid was wearing two masks... and a face shield... "

"Hey, like you said, no need taking any chances. Right?"

"Right," Kurt agrees. And he believes it. He believed it then and he believes it now. Had the roles been reversed, Kurt would make the sacrifice, more than willing to lock himself away for the sake of curbing this disease and keeping Sebastian healthy.

But it isn't him.

And he feels like dirt going to work three days a week, returning to something that resembles normal knowing what Sebastian is missing out on.

"It's his mother's fault for not mentioning that her little plague rat has covid before I got stuck on the elevator with them," Sebastian says, possibly trying to make Kurt feel better even though his gaze hasn't shifted.

"But quarantining for six days longer than necessary? That's above and beyond! I mean it. You deserve a medal."

Sebastian tosses him a wink over his shoulder but he doesn't linger, giving half-naked Kurt only a brief once over. "I got you, fam. Besides, time's up tomorrow. Then... " He thousand-yard stares in the direction of the flat screen "... it's rat-hunting season."

"It hasn't been all bad, has it?" Kurt asks guiltily as Sebastian's eyes return to his laptop. He'll admit that maybe he did go a tad overboard when he'd found out Sebastian had been exposed, banishing him to one end of the penthouse and the guest bedroom, keeping him at broom handle length for the past nineteen days.

But they were almost in the clear! And that's the part that pisses Kurt off most.

The disease hasn't been eradicated, but there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The theater started allowing small groups to return for socially distanced practices. That's a huge win for Kurt. Being away from Broadway and rehearsals and opening nights and curtain calls... it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

Sebastian was on the brink of going back to the office a few days a week, too. It wasn't so much not being at the office that bothered him, but the peripherals - eating lunch at his favorite deli or hitting the gym before dinner.

Sebastian had taken three tests after that fateful elevator incident, all of which came back negative, so he was confident everything would be alright. He was in the midst of planning his first in-person meeting, but Kurt balked, pointing out that there has been so much controversy over the accuracy of those tests. Sebastian offered to take three more if necessary, but regardless of the outcome, Kurt didn't feel it safe. And even though they had access to the vaccine (because money), being exposed, even minorly, pushed Sebastian's timetable for receiving his first dose back two weeks.

Kurt's father and stepmother have both received theirs, and Kurt was so looking forward to taking a trip to Ohio for a first hug in over a year. He's going to be damned if a four-foot-tall Petri dish ruins that for him!

But because of his paranoia, Kurt and Sebastian haven't touched, haven't kissed in two weeks. They tried the whole Skype sex thing from different rooms of the penthouse, aiming to recapture old college day thrills to boot, but it didn't work out the way they'd hoped. And even though they see each other every day, talk to one another, aggravate each other, throw popcorn and other food items at each other, Kurt misses Sebastian like the dickens. He misses his hugs, his warmth, his smell.

And yes, he misses the sex.

"Since I've been back to work, you've had the peace and privacy to watch those wacky pornos that your brother sends you."

"Yup," Sebastian says, typing something into his search bar that Kurt can't quite make out. "The wackiest."

"Didn't he say something about them being illegal in the contiguous 49 states?"

"Forty-eight. Tennessee turned itself around."

"It would be Tennessee."

"Always is."

"You probably haven't given your fleshjack a rest in two weeks," Kurt prods, worried over these short responses.

"Mmph... mmm-hmm... "

Kurt starts circling the sofa when all he gets is a chuckle in response, curious if Sebastian is even listening to him. He comes up behind him, standing on a piece of painter's tape they'd put down to mark six feet so Kurt can peek over his shoulder.

And what he sees on Sebastian's screen makes absolutely no sense.

"What are you watching?"

"Drain clearing videos."

Kurt's eyes go wide. "Drain clearing? Wh-what does that mean?"

"This guy drives all over, and when he finds a street that's flooded, he takes out a rake, drags it through the water, and tries to find the blocked drain."

"Does he work for the city?"

"Nah. He's just some guy."

"And he's made a whole channel about... clearing drains."

"Yes, sir."

"And you're watching it?"

"It came up in my recommendations so I clicked one." Sebastian shakes his head, chuckling when stagnant grey water, punctuated by speckles of rain, turns into a whirlpool, rushing through thick iron bars embedded in the concrete and disappearing from view. "It's so satisfying."

"What on Earth were you watching before this that YouTube recommended it?"

"Car cleaning videos."

Kurt's left eyebrow slowly climbs up his forehead. "A-ha."

"Yup. I never realized how relaxing it is to watch a handsome guy Bissell Kool-Aid stains out of carpet. But now... it's my jam."

Kurt huffs, offended on behalf of himself and his own vigorous cleaning regimen. "It wasn't your jam when I was steam cleaning our throw rugs! And the curtains!"

"Yeah, well, things hit different when you're forced into isolation."

Kurt storms forward a step. But then he remembers. And he stops, foot hovering an inch past the sacred boundary that keeps him from venturing too close to infection. He teeters, determination creasing his brow while anxiety wrestles his shoulders back. All the while, a war wages inside his tired brain:

"Get him! You've been vaccinated!"

"It's only one dose!"

"He's not even sick!"

"You don't know that!"

"Yes, I do!"

"It's not worth the risk!"

"Yes... it... IS!"

"Come on!" Kurt demands, throwing himself bodily at the sofa. He grabs Sebastian's hand, a small voice screaming inside his head as if his tiny naysayer is being burned at the stake. "Come with me... NOW!"

"Where are we going?" Sebastian asks, rushing to move his computer to the side before he gets dragged off the sofa by his surprisingly strong boyfriend.

"This is an intervention."

"But you shouldn't be touching me! Or breathing my air! I have one day left!"

"You're fine! If you haven't gotten sick by now, you probably aren't going to! This is an emergency!"

"What emergency?"

"Quarantine has turned you into someone I don't recognize! Car cleaning videos? Who are you right now?"

"They're educational. It's good to learn a new skill."

Kurt barks a laugh that could shatter crystal. "Right. Like you'd ever. You'd pay highway robbery to have your ten-speed detailed!"

"Nope, because you'd do it for free."

Kurt rolls his eyes, unwilling to entertain his boyfriend's mocking of him to ask whether or not that's code. "If you're going to ogle a man wielding a Bissell, Goddammit, it's going to be me!"

"So... are we going to clean some carpets?"

"We're going to take a shower and then have sex. A lot of sex. You're getting fucked and sucked until you're back to normal."

Sebastian snorts, delighted by his incredibly good fortune. "If you insist. But are you absolutely sure about this?"

Kurt stops short and faces Sebastian. He looks him over, making certain he doesn't seem particularly sick, and shrugs.

"We'll wear masks. Or three. I don't need to kiss you to make you cum." Kurt continues to drag Sebastian towards the bathroom as his grin grows to epic proportions.

"Kinky."

#kurtbastian #acitw #acitw au #sebkurt #sekurt

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gumnut-logic · 4 years ago

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It was old.

Scott wasn’t exactly sure how old, but it had been around all his life at least. A hand-knitted patchwork of colours, likely from scraps of wool from other projects. Maybe Nanna? Nanna knitted didn’t she?

His memories of his mother’s mother were so vague, he couldn’t be sure. Gran Roca, dusty wind, gentle hugs, colours and not much more.

Of course, it could have been their mother, but he doubted it. She wouldn’t have had the time. Between her engineering team at Tracy Industries and five young children, she had been stretched thin.

Memories.

He fingered the blanket. It was frayed at the edges. One patch of lighter wool had a stain on it that could be attributed to John, a nasty flu and spaghetti bolognese. He could still remember Grandma’s panic at the time and the rush to get the wool soaking and clean.

It had seen many an illness. It was a go to when one of them was feeling down.

Of course, it wasn’t the only blanket available, they were a large family, after all. Each brother had their own snuggle rug, as Gordon called them. Each with its own unique motif, all terribly predictable.

Alan’s was the single bed quilt from his kiddy racing car bed, the only part of that set up that had survived the great paint explosion of 2052.

It had survived because it had been in another room at the time.

No one commented when it came out, his little brother usually buried under it on the lounge. When the racing car quilt came out, it was time for hugs, not stirring jokes.

Gordon, of course, had a giant squid faux mink blanket. The thing was massive, incredibly soft and the only one in existence. Virgil had it made during Gordon’s recovery. Their brother had lost so much weight, he had been cold all the time. The blanket was king size and huge. Big enough for more than one brother, if needed.

You would think John would have some space age material designed to be super warm, but no. A simple hand knitted star motif in soft wool was deployed on those nights when gravity crawled across his skin and the unregulated atmosphere crept under it. Scott wasn’t sure where he got it from. It just appeared shortly after his first stint on Five and it tended to reappear for the same reason.

Virgil’s blanket had paint stains. Specifically from the incident where he caught his brother in his studio shivering with a fever of 39C after that damned swamp rescue three years ago. The idiot’s hand had been shaking, struggling to paint anything, but for some stubborn artistic reason, he had had to paint right at that moment. Something about getting it all down now, before he lost it.

He lost it alright. Spilt his paint water all over himself, along with orange and blue paint when the canvas over balanced and fell on him.

The soft Scottish blend of wools had never been the same again. Grandma had once again been the once desperately trying to get the stains out of wool, while Scott carted his brother off to the infirmary.

Of course, on a tropical island, there often wasn’t much need for blankets, but they still used them. Sometimes they were scrunched up into makeshift pillows on the couch. Sometimes they were just something to curl up around.

It wasn’t like any of them had much in the way of bed company most nights and Scott wasn’t above seeking comfort in the soft folds of warm and familiar fabric on those nights when loneliness and his life beat him down to the basics.

But this blanket, this well worn host of memories, had seen them all.

He slipped the folded bulk out of the closet and let it unravel in his hands. There was a tiny hole forming in one corner. He must remember to get out the darning needle and fix that when he got a chance, before it became too big.

But for now, the blanket was needed.

Closing the closet door, he flung the knitted fabric over one arm and headed down to the comms room.

It was dark outside and the house was quiet, most of the family had drifted off to bed an hour or so ago, leaving Scott and the one other occupant of the room to talk.

And talk they did.

Spread out on the sofas with room to spare, Scott and Virgil had shared a drink and simple conversation. Not about International Rescue, not about the Thunderbirds, not about work.

Just talk.

A few memories, a few aspirations, Virgil’s latest painting, a dash of current affairs, a little gossip regarding Scott’s secretary at TI and Alan.

It had been a good talk.

But life still existed even when you tried to ignore it, and Thunderbird Two had been out most of the day. Three rescues, all successful, but everyone was only allotted a certain amount of energy per day and at eleven o’clock at night, Virgil hit his limit.

Soft snores echoed across the hardwood floor as Scott re-entered the room. He had dimmed the lights and closed the main glass doors. The room felt cocooned and safe. The moon peeked through the rafters, hinting at the outside world, but for the moment, everything else was shut out.

They were protected.

Scott stepped softly across to the sunken lounge where Virgil was curled up on a sofa. An empty tumbler sat discarded on the end table.

His brother had shoved a cushion under his cheek and mashed his face into it. Technically the sofa was too short and too skinny for his large frame, but Virgil had curled himself up into a ball of flannel and denim.

Steel caps lay discarded on the floor.

The cushion was subjected to drool.

Scott couldn’t help but smile.

Virgil’s face was slack and so young in sleep. His huge hands were fisted up under his chin like the child he used to be and Scott was suddenly struck by the images of so many other nights with so many younger versions of his little brother doing exactly the same thing, yet smaller.

The smile turned into a fond grin.

Moments like these made everything worth it.

He spread the old blanket over Virgil’s legs, the folds landing softly over socked feet, and draped it across his waist.

His brother snorted and wriggled as only a man of his size could.

An unintelligible mutter, a sigh, and the snoring returned.

Still smiling, Scott straightened and backed away, turning to leave.

Dimming the lights to almost non-existence, he headed towards the stairs and his own bed.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #nuttyfic reblog

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pandawriterstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Pineswallow Ranch

Monty, at only eleven years, three months and four days, had been to many parts of the world, traveling with his mother. She was a corporate lawyer, and was called to all corners to use her intelligence and skill at finding the exact information that was needed to crush the competition.

Monty, being a little boy, was, of course, not wanted in either the board meetings or the more secretive dealings that were necessary when people were not as cooperative as they needed to be. Long days of nailing bottom lines and ferreting out inefficiencies exhausted his mother most dreadfully, and so when she would collapse in their suite, begging Monty to not chatter quite so loud because Mother’s head ached, and wouldn’t he like to watch a nice movie with her? quietly? it was perfectly understandable and he would always do his best, cuddling up with her as they watched musicals and cartoons.

But it meant that despite having been to many more parts of the world than the average eleven year old, he had seen almost none of it. Hotel rooms, airports, lobbies, and far more drop-in daycare centers than he cared to remember were where he’d spent the bulk of his existence.

It was lonely, a lot of the time. But it was what he knew. And he had Mother, and his lessons, and even a few email friends he’d managed to keep in touch with.

But Monty had started to think that maybe it wasn’t enough. Of course, by the time he’d realized that, Mother, always ten steps ahead, had not only realized that this was a problem, but had found a solution. Or at least what she thought was a solution. Monty was not at all sure.

“Your Uncle Keith lives in a rural town, but they have some of the highest test scores in the county, so you won’t have to worry about falling behind. And he has horses, Monty, a whole stable of them, and I know you love to ride.” Monty, currently not speaking to his mother, was sitting on the balcony of yet another hotel suite staring down at the unnaturally blue water of the pool, lips resolutely shut.

His arms weren’t crossed, because Mother would say he was pouting if they were, and he wasn’t pouting.

Even though he would have very good reason to if he did. His mother was sending him away. “I am not going to keep talking to your back, so if you’re going to be this stubborn I’m going to go inside and finish packing. When you calm down we can decide what to get for dinner and pick out something to watch.”

“I don’t want to watch anything with you.” The words snapped out of him, possibly more hard and vicious than words ever had before, and Monty heard his mother’s intake of breath, heard the way it caught a little. It didn’t matter, because he wasn’t sorry, his hands clenching down on the cast iron arms of the chair, cold against his fingers. He wasn’t sorry, because she should be the one who was sorry, and she wasn’t-or maybe she was, and still wouldn’t change her mind, and Monty thought that might be worse.

“Okay, then.” The balcony door shut slowly, as if she were waiting for him to change his mind, to run to her, but Monty just stared down at the pool, willing his eyes to stay dry.

He slumped, his head sagging down, once he heard her footsteps padding back across the hotel room that had been his for a week now and into the main part of the suite. Now he felt guilty, as well as angry, and it was an unpleasant combination that made his stomach feel like it had a stone in it. Monty couldn’t say Mother had been entirely wrong in her earlier arguments, that traveling around the way she did kept him from having so many things other boys did; a school, a bedroom, classmates and friends. Having a pet of any type was impossible the way they traveled, or even most large possessions. He’d never even had a real first day of school, though he’d dealt with schoolyard bully types a few times anyway.

But he didn’t want to leave Mother, didn’t want to leave the only thing he knew to go live in a tiny town with an uncle he hadn’t even seen in three years!

Not even for horses.

*****

Three days later, when they arrived at Uncle Keith’s ranch, Monty wished he hadn’t spent so much time being upset with Mother. He hadn’t really expected to, after all. Ordinarily when he was angry or displeased about something his feelings would calm with time, and sometimes he would feel foolish for being so upset over something that truly did look better in the morning-or as Mother liked to say, with thought and contemplation. But each morning Monty would wake up feeling just as sour and small and confused as he had the day before. It is hard to not be angry as well when you have a jumble of feelings like that stretching from your toes to at least up to your eyeballs, and easier to let yourself than trying to figure out some other way to feel about it.

But now they were here, standing outside the sprawling ranch house with the startling steep mountains behind them, and horses of all colors in a paddock near a real barn. It should have been amazing, awe-inspiring, but his mother would be leaving in a few days and none of it was. Mother’s hand found his shoulder, squeezing lightly as Monty looked around, not sure if he wanted to be interested in the rock and herb garden arranged around the wide front porch or not. “Your uncle’s probably inside, getting lunch ready. Let’s go knock, shall we?”

“Yes, Mother.” Only Monty didn’t move, leaning slightly into her touch, and after just a moment he found himself swooped into a tight hug, Mother’s cheek pressing into the top of his head, and he gripped her back just as tightly, wishing they could get back in the rental car and drive to a hotel, to anywhere, as long as he got to stay with her.

“Well, hey now! You got here earlier than I was expecting!” The loud voice broke up Monty’s reverie, and he turned his head to stare at the tall man in a red and blue flannel shirt that looked like something Superboy would wear as Conner Kent, slowly pulling away from Mother as she laughed.

“I think you might have forgotten to look at a clock, we’re here at noon, exactly as specified.” Monty studied his uncle, not sure if he should speak up or not. It had been almost three years since he’d seen his mother’s younger brother, though he knew his mother emailed him a lot, and sometimes she’d tell him a story about something that happened on the ranch, or tell him Uncle Keith liked a drawing or story of his she’d shared. Right now he seemed like a stranger. A stranger Monty was supposed to live with for at least a year.

‘Only a year to start out with,’ Mother had said, ‘and if you don’t like it we’ll figure out something else.’ As though that were a short period of time. Maybe, Monty thought, looking at the llama patterned socks Uncle Keith had worn out onto the porch, it was to an adult, but when you’d only been around for eleven years, three months and one week a year was a very long time indeed.

Adults never seemed to think about things like that. It was exceedingly frustrating.

Looking up again, he saw that Uncle Keith was giving him an indulgent sort of smile, having caught him in his examination, and Mother gave him a nudge in the direction of the porch before he could regroup. “I hope you guys are hungry, I’ve got chilli heating up and grilled cheese ready to toast on the griddle. C’mon in, just take off your shoes or Miss Maisie will never let me hear the end of it.”

Letting Mother push him lightly towards the porch, Monty cast another glance at the corral, his eyes lighting on a horse whose coat was like snowfall speckled over dark loam. As he stared, the horse’s head turned and for just a moment Monty would swear they locked eyes, his breath leaving him in a gasp. It felt like the horse knew him better than anyone ever had or ever could in that moment.

Perhaps, he thought, as his feet reached the porch steps and Mother chided him to remember his surroundings before he fell, there might be a few perks to living here.

Part 2

#original writing #creative writing #amwriting #writeblr #middle grade #wholesome #writing wip #panda's plots #writebrl #Pinehallow Ranch

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bubmyg · 5 years ago

Text

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre/warnings: unspecified au, fluff, literally just cuddling with yoongi and teasing each other that’s all this is

word count: 679

summary: the cliche one where your heat breaks in the middle of winter

“It’s almost criminal that you’re wearing socks,” Soft brown irises regarded you over the puff of a grey duvet, narrowing a bit between the sanction of the fabric and the dangle of shower soft honey fringe, “I should expel you from the bed tonight.”

You glanced down at the double layered fuzzy socks rolled over the seam of your leggings, slow in the ascend of your gaze where you were met with eyes now pressed into crescents as the Yoongi shaped bump in the sheets began to shake a little with silent laughter.

“That’s fine,” You shrugged after a moment, bending down to gather your side of the blankets into your palms. With one sharp tug, you dislodged his grip to splay the cocoon he’d created awkwardly across his sprawled out stature.

“You can take the bed, I get the blankets.”

There was a hint of panic in the way he scrambled for the frayed edges of blankets, tugging to stop your methodical gathering of the fabric against your chest. Another soft tug on his end paired with an obvious pout petaling to tulip shaped lips, “Compromise. I forgive your sock crimes until the heat gets fixed.”

You glared at Yoongi until the gentlest, “Angel…” fell from his lips, dropping his grip on the blankets to make grabby hands at you.

“Sustained, scoot over.”

Yoongi complied, wriggling away from you and consequently taking the blankets back. He waited until the exact moment your frigid body had settled, tossing the bulk of fuzz and fabric in his grasp so that it fluttered and landed over your head in one giant mass, the tiniest of gleeful noises rumbling from his throat in the process.

You managed to fish yourself out from the tangle of freshly laundered sheets and flannel blankets you’d tugged from high shelves in the hall closet on account of the lack of heat currently filtering through the vents in your apartment. You found Yoongi still curled in his previous position, nose wrinkling upon inspecting the disgruntled expression on your features.

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I love you?”

“Yeah, yeah,” You swatted at him with a limp wrist, wriggling until your knees bumped into his thighs, “Hug me then, you’re warm.”

He hummed while you shifted around, eventually slinging a leg across his waist and brushing the cold tip of your nose into his throat. Crooked fingertips made gentle passes along the length of your spine, latter hand fitting underneath your knee, thumb musing patterns into the supple skin there.

“You know, maybe this whole no heat thing isn’t too bad. For example, the socks are growing on me.”

You hid the roll of your eyes by pressing your lips to his jaw, “...yeah?”

“Yeah, now you can’t wake me up with your cold ass feet.”

“I can take the socks off just as easily as I put them on—”

“You know what else?”

Yoongi turned just enough to see your expression and press an impulse kiss to your forehead.

Rolling your lips together, you shook your head, regarding him under a lidded gaze, “No. What?”

“You have to guess.”

“I don’t know—”

He cut you off with a simple shrug, lifting his hand off your leg to lace his fingers together at your hip and consequently hug you tighter. A sweet caramel swirled around dilated pupils and Yoongi said simply, “Cuddles.”

You had to hide your unadulterated endearment in his hood that was strewn haphazardly against his neck, fingers trading for fiddling with his hoodie strings to gripping the soft black fabric. “Two great pros to this situation. I’m starting to think we should call off the repairman,” You muffled, your laughter spreading against the side of his neck.

Yoongi shifted to be on his back again, pattering a beat similar to the erratically loving hammer of his heart in his ears on the round of your waist, letting his neck hinge to press his cheek against the top of your head while you sprinkled affections to his neck in between your laughter.

“...that was my next suggestion.”

#bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts x reader #yoongi imagine #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff

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