#first shirt review of 2024

[t-hirstreview]

[leafostuff]

No Strings Attached [Ft. Billlie's Sheon and Tsuki]

Author's Note: Im out of Hiatus!!!

And finally the continuation of No Names Needed, fun fact - this idea of a sequel with both Tsuki and Sheon was in my brain for a long time, i only now found the inspiration, time and energy to write it.

By the time this will come out, it will be 2025 so happy new year everyone, hope yall thought about your resolutions and had the a blast for 2024, Soon also my writerversary will come as well (Feb 5th) so that is hype as well.

Lastly, just want to thank @defmaybe for helping with beta reading the fic, it kinda is quite a mess when it comes to plot but i honestly enjoyed writing this so much.

And without further ado, hope yall have a fun read

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So after that entire situation at the club’s bathroom with the mysterious girl, a couple of questions are now stuck in your head:

Firstly, how did she manage to convince you for a second round at her place so easily?, It’s not like you were in the right headspace for any reason considering you just reviewed the best head of your life and you were excited to see more of her but still.

Second, what are the odds that just as you were ready to take off your shirt, her roommate just so happened to arrive from her shift? Having to sit quietly on their couch listening to the awkward argument of having to leave the dorm for tonight so her roommate could sleep in peace after a long shift.

And lastly: why are they now making out on the bed with their underwear only?

“Nghh…Sheon…” is the only her roommate (which you are still not sure about

Her name) can mutter between kisses, her voice is sweet on the ears, especially when she moans with how her partner latches her luscious lips (which you can vouch for by experience) latch on a particular spot on her neck, “so good…”

“Yes unnie, it is so good” it's the way Sheon elongates the last two words which raises the sexual tension inside the room, and her hands are not left idle, rubbing her right thigh back and forth. 

“And look, he is so hard for us right now” she adds before slightly tilting her roommate's face toward your naked erection, everything happened so fast you don't even remember when you took off your pants. “What do you say, oppa, ready for round two?”

“Fuck, as long you tell me your cute roommate's name,” you finally respond, already inching closer to them with impatience and lust. However, it seems like Sheon has other plans.

“That’s not how it works” Sheon lets out a disappointed sigh, “You can't just get a girl’s name like that, first you need to let her suck your cock.” To any other person, Sheon’s response would be fucked up, but to you and the two girls? For some reason, it just makes sense. “But before all of that, let me get unnie to show her tits to us”.

Words quickly turn into actions as Sheon unclasped her roommate's bra, letting it fall onto the sheets, giving her mounds the full view they desperately needed. It's hard to pinpoint exactly her size, especially with how Sheon is not wasting a second by slowly pushing her friend’s face lower to face the tip of your hardness.

The last stretch though, she does by herself and honestly? Those two girls might as well be sisters since like Sheon, as soon as her lips wrap around the tip of your cock a switch flips in her head, immediately starting with slow and steady bobbing movement toward the base of your cock.

She even has the same deadly stare Sheon has when she looks up, seeing your eyes closed while biting your lips every time she gets your cock deeper inside her, letting out a soft mumble resembling a chuckle before increasing the pace and the passion she uses to drain you.

And it drives you fucking insane.

“Oh my god unnie, you suck his cock so fucking amazing” Sheon is shocked at the oral assault her roommate expertly does. “Let me just get naked and then I will start sucking his balls, okay, unnie?” Even with the immense pleasure you receive you can still see how Sheon quickly takes off her bra to reveal her rather small mounds before diving downward, facing your cock with a hungry gaze.

She shifts around to find a comfortable position near her roommate and then, without leaving you a place to get used to it, she immediately reaches her tongue forward, giving it a teasing lick that sends shivers to your brain never felt before.

The only thing you can do is grip the mattress of the bed, trying to find some semblance of control over your body while two professional arsonists set your body aflame with pleasure that can only be described as messy and the sounds they make doesn't help your situation.

“Mm shewon-” the black-haired girl muffles with your cock still inside her mouth, “he is swo hawrd-nghh…” she manages to say to her friend, who seems to get excited with each moment seeing her friend being fucked.

“I know, right? I bet he really likes it when girls like us suck his big, thick cock,” Sheon responds while her hands go to her roommate's hair, moving it from her face to give more space, then she turns to you. “What about you, oppa, getting close for my unnie?”.

You can only nod in response, as any other will take too much energy from you. “That's great oppa,” Sheon adds, taking a look sideways and see how into the feeling the other girl, you could bet she’s not even hearing a word of your conversation as her entire soundscape consistent of licking, slurping and moaning, all which gets you closer to what they have been waiting.

But then, Sheon rises from her position, moving herself from near her roommate to now sitting behind you. You can feel how one of her hands snakes up from behind, gliding across your naked chest before leaning her mouth to your right ears, whispering the magic you didn't know even existed.

“Fill her”

And all hell breaks loose. This simple request is enough to send you into overdrive, as you quickly put each of your hands on the black-haired girl’s head for control before releasing your first shot of your load into her mouth.

And it just doesn't stop, your mind is all hazy only focusing on that request, each buck of your hips forward gets you reaching the back of her mouth with your cock and then unloading another round of cum down her throat, getting the both of you to release a moan.

Sheon? She’s ecstatic, jumping up and down behind you frantically. Each pump of yours gets her giggling and smiling wider. “Yes, yes, yes!!, fill her oppa, fill my Tsuki unnie, she's such a slut for your big cock, let her have all of it” As if she knew all of your sweet spots, she reached her lips to your ear, giving it a loving kiss which gets you hornier.

Below you, Tsuki lets out tears from the pleasure overtaking her entire body, each drop of cum getting inside her gets her moaning while her hands gripping your thighs to not faint, meanwhile managing to mutter a slutty, needy “more” every time she takes her lips out to catch her breath, before taking you in further.

Your last drops of your white load eventually gets swallowed by Tsuki’s, pulling her lips out of your cock and letting you fall onto the bed, pleasure blurs every bit of your vision, finally having time to catch your breath for the first time of the night and your heartbeat to slow down.

“Fuck…you two…are insane” is the only thing you manage to say between heavy breaths.

“And the best part, oppa? We're not over yet,” Sheon says, her voice still seductive, you manage to raise your head and see the two girls as you suddenly notice something: their panties are off.

In front of you are now two girls, fully naked, presenting themselves to you in their full glory, Sheon with a slutty smile and a bite on her lower lip while Tsuki demeanor is more reserved however her eyes share the same curiosity and excitement as her roommate. Immediately, this gets you up and running once again.

“That's right Oppa, you still didn't have the chance to cum on Tsuki unnie's thighs…or inside my ass, and especially…” She then goes behind Tsuki, quickly inserting two digits into her pussy while her other hand goes to grope one of her tits, getting Tsuki to gasp in surprise from the surprising touch over her body.

 “You didn't get to cum inside our tight little pussies, Oppa,” she adds, now you're fully immersed in the show in front of you.

“Who knows, maybe a round or two later we could hear your name, right?”

It’s that question that guarantees both to them and to you that tonight's gonna be unlike any other night you ever had in your life.

[princemick]

THE KING’S HONOUR

16+, Released August 4 2024, 2h 11m, Action/Adventure/Romance/Comedy/Fantasy

Commander of the Kingsguard, Aonghus (Michael Schumacher) finds himself as Acting Regent when King Conall (Mika Häkkinen) falls to a curse in battle. Unable to search for a cure himself as the kingdom threatens to fall to outside threats and inner political schemes, he sends out his second in command, Fiachra (Lewis Hamilton) to find a way to save his king.

Where To Watch:

Rent The King’s Honour on Fandango at Home, Prime Video, Apple TV, or buy it on Fandango at Home, Prime Video, Apple TV.

Critics Consensus

Once you get past the horrendously unrealistic costuming, The King’s Honour becomes an admittedly predictable, but humorous, effortless evening watch.

Read Critics Reviews.

Critics Reviews View All (132)

Damon Hill TOP CRITIC

Newsweek

There are worse crimes than fan service but at least do it with a bit more effort and skill than this. 

Rated 1.5/5 | Aug 2 2024 Full Review

Will Buxton TOP CRITIC

Common Sense Media

To save the king, you must first break the curse. A very compact and concise film, but weak on the soundtrack and dialogue. Too many unnecessary monologues.

Rated 3/5 | Aug 4 2024 Full Review

Jenson Button TOP CRITIC

Vogue

Knocked off half a star because no one took their shirts off. Unrealistic. Some of those shirts were far too flowy not to have an ‘accidental’ nip slip.

Rated 4.5/5 | Aug 6 2024 Full Review

Audience Reviews View All (1500+)

Alexanderrr

new comfort movie unlocked i think

Rated 4.5/5 | Aug 23 2024

Prost

My husband spent half our date night bitching abaout every single thing he hated about this film. He always fucks better when he is angry so thank you.

Rated 4/5 | Aug 19 2024

George Russell

Well, that was truly delightful! The cast has amazing chemistry. Both between the lead mains and all the side characters! This is a film that knows what it is (and is not ashamed about it!): a light-hearted film that never takes itself too seriously, but manages not to become a satirical parod…

Rated 5/5 | Sep 5 2024 Full Review

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The King’s Honour

16+ | Magical Realism, Historical Fiction, Romance | Directed by Niki Lauda

This is a truly a soulless and uninspired chickenshit explotation of queerness and the use of fantastical elements in a desperate attempt to prop up a flailing script that falls flat. Calling this ‘magical realism’ is an insult to Gabriel García Márquez’s memory.

Every single element of this film is subpar at best, lacking in colour and substance and a solid foundation of existence. While one would think the landscape the film is shot in, the Scotland highlands, would improve the viewing, but somehow the cinematography is so terrible, it is just another way everything and everyone gets lost. It is a backdrop of breathtaking opportunity and they don’t simply drop the ball but not even bother to pick it up. There is little to no directional awareness in the camera work and the script and the honestly incoherent cinematic flow of this piece. There is not even a NOD to authenticity of any kind, even on a satirical level as that would require a modiqum of thought not seen here.

I could not call this a categorical fail at hubris because I truly can not fathom what Lauda was aiming for here in this production. If someone held a gun to by head and told me to guess the director of this film correctly, my husband would be receiving my life insurance payout in the morning. How the mighty have fallen.

Everyone is a take away from a cigarette break, a sudden career exit, or at some points, a cliff’s face. And in knowing this, it is the only way I feel even remotely connected to what I see on screen.

By ARYTON SENNA

Sort By (BEST)       COMMENTS

James Hunt | 3 days ago

I feel fucking exhausted just reading this review. Chill the fuck out and smell the flowers, mate.

Esteban | 5 days ago

Woah.

Sebastian Vettel | 1 week ago

Framing this and putting it up on my fridge. Thank you!

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Review by oscar ★★★★★ ♡ 🗨21

loved it yeah. schumacher’s pussy was OUT OUT so you know. cheers. and i Respect häkkinen’s dedication to serving face even while comatose. but like. it wasn’t very realistic because how in the fuck did no one shove the guy coulthard plays off a tower he was soooo annoying. took me out of the movie a bit can’t lie

❤ 5,581 likes

Review by Mick ★★★ 🗨19

A very funny film! Makes me want to go to Scotland! And I’m not just saying that because my Dad’s in it haha. :) Not his best work though :( 

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Schumacher ran over my dog and didn’t even stop. If any of you even care.

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@hypersoft-fest Week 1 Collab with @milflewis: Movie review + Historical Regency and Magical Realism

[jokeroutsubs]

📝ENG Translation: Elle Men Special: A Fashion Odyssey with Kris Guštin

Article written by Ajda Gregorc, published in the November/December 2024 ELLE Slovenia Magazine. Print and digital versions of the magazine are available for purchase.

Scans and English translation by @kurooscoffee, review by @weolucbasu and a member of JokerOutSubs, proofread by IG GBoleyn123.

Full article translation, scans, and Spotify link are under the cut 👇

🎧 Article available in audio form on Spotify.

Elle Men Special: A Fashion Odyssey with Kris Guštin

With Kris Guštin, the music author and guitarist of Joker Out, we escaped to another side of music, and with that, to his other passion. We talked about style and everything connected to it. There will also be no shortage of this in the band's third album, titled 'Souvenir Pop', which is released on the 15th of November—one week after the issue of Elle you’re holding now. How perfectly synchronised we are!

PHOTOS URŠA PREMIK, STYLING ALENKA BIRK

At Ljubljana’s Moderna Café, on a fresh but lovely autumn Tuesday, when everyone’s still at work or in school, he arrives in a dark green jacket with a checkered pattern, awesome trousers, and her necklace. This time, the menu is not serving music and life, but matcha and "all things fashion." I’m in a regular trench coat and a white T-shirt, but luckily he doesn’t judge people by their style—instead, the style might be what piques his interest to converse, if it's good, of course. Besides, he's the one being interviewed. So, let’s begin! AJDA GREGORC

Interviewer: When did you first discover your personal style or the field of fashion? Was it in childhood or a bit later?

Kris: I roughly divide my life into two periods: before I first held a guitar, and after. When I really got into playing and ventured into music, my world opened up in all areas. Discovering fashion definitely falls into this second period, so the post-high school era. To be completely honest, my style in high school wasn’t something I’m particularly proud of today. (laughs) My girlfriend and I still have a photo of me wearing cargo pants and a black sweater, which is a proof she truly loves me, since that look was far from the best choice. (laughs)

When did it evolve from just a aesthetic impression to self-expression?

My first contact with fashion as a form of art or expression was during our band's first music video or fashion shoot, when I realised that this is also something you need to consider as a musician. At first, it seemed to me like a fairly peripheral element, but as our career developed and we met new people who gave us more insight into this, I began to understand its significance, what I could personally gain from it, and what we as a band could gain. This quickly developed into standard practice. I was increasingly exposed to fashion; we had more and more costume rehearsals and stylings, and two years ago, we even got our first proper stylist. And then I really committed to it—at around nineteen or twenty. Before that, my philosophy was always to "just wear whatever I first find in the closet," but then I shifted to "I'll wear things that would make me stand out from others". But this process was a long one.

So, your style development with the band inspired your personal growth too? I’ve always wondered if a young person is compelled to mature in every area when so many 'big things' happen all at once, as they did for you.

Maybe you do "grow old" in terms of personality sooner. Yes, at first I wanted, and still want, to primarily express the difference or uniqueness that I feel inside myself through music, but then I discovered that this goes very much hand in hand with fashion, so I started looking for my expression there as well. Today, it's almost an equally important part of my day.

Which fashion ideas or directions attract you? You’ve probably encountered a lot of inspiration during your travels on tour, right?

Definitely, but speaking purely origin-wise, I think I’m just like any other rock musician—we draw from the rock aesthetic of the ’60s and ’70s, which was also very "in" when my fashion awareness was born. Back then, around 2016 to 2018, here were a lot of flamboyant shirts on the music scene, with a slight hippie influence, which was the starting point. Only later did I start getting interested in slightly more modern clothes. When I was younger, I found myself in street fashion, that sort of Eminem-esque, hip-hop vibe, so very baggy clothes, which I then began to reject when I made the shift toward the ’60s and a slightly psychedelic aesthetic. It makes perfect sense, as humans tend to jump between extremes. When I had worked through that style, I started discovering the aesthetics of the ’80s and late ’90s, which was also reflected in music at the time. The best example that comes to mind is Dua Lipa’s previous album, which was in the style of the “new ’80s,” and the fashion matched that as well. Today, the early 2000s style has come back, but I haven’t fully decided whether I like it or not. As a musician, I was, of course, initially inspired by other music groups. Arctic Monkeys were a big inspiration for us both musically and visually, as was the whole British rock scene, including bands like The Kooks and Oasis. That entire aesthetic has always been strongly present with us. I doubt there’s a single inspiration board at our shoots that doesn’t include a photo of one of those bands or, for instance, the Beatles. And that aesthetic has always been close to my heart, too.

Rockers have always been associated with more masculine fashion elements, while in recent years, many male musicians have been experimenting with more feminine style elements (for example, Harry Styles and Lenny Kravitz). David Bowie was already the one who back then started to blur these fashion boundaries. You, too, wear such pieces and dare to stand out with them.

It happened quite naturally, as the stylists we worked with always chose slightly more “unmanly” clothing for me. This doesn’t necessarily mean women’s clothing, but rather somewhat more androgynous pieces, which I quickly embraced. I found them interesting and appealing because there’s a lot of fresh expression in that style that I don’t find in traditional men’s clothing, though I don’t want to overdo it. I also started experimenting with them personally, choosing many more varied colours. For a while, I was very fond of pink, and lately, I’ve been playing around with orange. On the cover of the album 'Demoni', I wore an orange-pink sweater.

Are we, as an audience here, already mature enough for a musician to present his feminine side through fashion? Does that require courage?

It does, there will always be people who won’t understand you. But for me, when it comes to the stage or a shoot, I’ll wear anything, and if I feel good in it, I don’t worry about what someone thinks. When I walk around "in civilian clothes," however, especially in Ljubljana, I am still aware if I’m dressed somewhat "untraditionally." There’s a certain boundary that I still need to break within myself. On stage, it’s easier because it’s not necessarily a hundred percent my expression; I’m playing a certain character, but personally, sometimes I do need some courage to show up in a particular style. However, the awareness of being different is stronger in Ljubljana than in other parts of the Western world. For example, I never felt that way in London, but still, our capital isn’t the worst when it comes to this.

Speaking of influences, what about other artistic or cultural movements?

I love art deco, the aesthetics of the '20s and '30s, though it doesn’t influence my daily life. In terms of photography, Damon Baker’s black-and-white style is beautiful. The vintage camera aesthetic has recently won me over, which will also be reflected in our band. Musically, over the past year, I’ve been listening to old Italian chansons and older French music, chansons as well, so I’m clearly feeling very retro this year. (smile)

Will the third album visually stand out from the previous ones then?

Yes, it will be very different. In the last two, we used a lot of colours, but there won’t be as many in this one.

Style can be an excellent tool for expressing an artist's authenticity, but with increasing success, the artist can also become its slave; the line is thin. Do you ever feel the pressure of having to express your fashion style in your private life as well?

No, I’ve never felt like my style owns me; it’s always been the opposite. I’ve always felt like I want more, like I want to dress even better than the day before, especially when it comes to my music career. Perhaps style only hangs over my head a bit when I have no inspiration and would rather wear sweatpants on an ordinary, relaxed day. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but then I do think about what would happen if I ended up somewhere in the middle of the city dressed like that.

It seems that Joker Out has developed a distinct style despite outside influences.

Yes, today we are already very complete in our style. Others have definitely had an influence on us, and I think it’s great that each of them tried to express themselves through us – it was interesting to experience how Joker Out was seen by Ponorelli, and how Andraž Drobnič or Karlo Kirri did. Of course, there is a difference in this, but it also aligns with the development of our music and aesthetics, so all these influences are very welcome.

How much of your personal fashion identity is therefore reflected in Joker Out?

Maybe, as someone who is not an external observer, I can't answer that, but I can say that I was always one of the first to give feedback to the stylist when we were creating our outfits, approving moodboards, and so on. So, I have definitely shaped our style in a direction that suits me. On certain "blind stylings," when we just dressed up, I quickly threw something on myself and then helped look for pieces for the other band members.

What about this photoshoot, where Alenka Birk took over the styling? Did you let her take the lead with her tactics, or did you collaborate on fashion choices? How did the communication go?

I didn’t know Alenka, who, by the way, is an excellent stylist, before. She was recommended by Urša (the photographer, ed.). Later, she confided in me that she had also worked with my father. Alenka focuses on elegant men's fashion, which is a departure from this more fluid fashion; and this suited me because I had never really been photographed in a men's suit, jacket, and tie. I wanted to try something new. I hadn’t seen the outfits before the day of the photoshoot when we met in her small studio in the morning. There were nine of them in total, and we only swapped out a piece or two in at most three of the looks.

This is more of an exception than a rule in fashion photoshoots. Does that mean you felt good in them?

Yes. In some more so, obviously, but in others, you have to trust the people you're working with. When I first look in the mirror, I always keep in mind that if something isn't optimal, it doesn't mean it won’t work well on camera. Even if the pants are too short or creased, it's still worth photographing them, because the photo can be edited later, whereas on stage, it's a different story, and everything has to already be perfect in the mirror. Working with Alenka was very simple; we clicked really well, and I will definitely work with her again.

How linked are your confidence and the way you feel on stage with your styling?

Very connected. As a musician, you want to enjoy yourself as much as possible on stage, and the people who come to listen to you and pay for the ticket deserve to see you at your best, which means you have to feel good in every aspect.

You recently attended Ljubljana Fashion Week. Which of the local fashion designers do you like to follow?

As far as the Slovenian fashion scene is concerned, I’m still quite the beginner, so I only knew the designers we had worked with. This was my first time visiting the Fashion Week.

Which shows did you watch?

On the first day, all of them. I didn’t like everything, but what stuck in my mind was Sarivalenci¹ with their somewhat "country club", Lana Del Rey vibe, and golf moment. I also really enjoyed the Belgrade Fashion Week, as there was an obvious Balkan touch, which I would love to see more of in Slovenia.

¹Sarivalenci is a Slovene high fashion brand created by fashion designer Sari Valenci.

You are a fan of vintage clothes and second-hand shops. What do these pieces have for you that new ones don't?

Honestly, I don’t know if there’s an objective explanation why. I started getting into it because it was popular, and at the same time, it gives you the feeling of getting a more unique piece. At the same time, you're shopping sustainably and not contributing to the production of unnecessary new textiles on Earth, which is great, but I would be lying if I said that’s my main motivation. What I like the most is the experience of "flipping" through clothes, where each piece is different, like a treasure hunt, compared to regular stores where you "flip" through the same clothes in different sizes.

Did your mum, who comes from the Netherlands where people have been aware of this for many years, introduce you to this concept?

I wouldn’t say we talked much about it at home, but I literally lived it. This is probably true for Slovenians in general – almost all the clothes I had as a child were from older peers, or I would take something from my dad, too. When I was done with wearing the clothes, my brother would wear them too. Every piece of clothing that came into our house was passed around, which is a great practice, and it’s still like that today. My sister "stole" half of my sweaters, my mum sometimes takes something too, Maks borrows jackets from my dad, which I’ve also done myself. It's like we all share one big closet! (laughs)

So you have influenced each other’s style in your family, or rather, you still do so? Who has otherwise had the most influence on your style in the past, and who does today?

I don’t remember ever looking at my parents as role models in this regard, as I didn’t really think about it back then, but they definitely influenced me, at least subconsciously. When I see how my mom dresses today, I see parallels with my own style, so she probably did influence me, perhaps more than my dad. As for street style, which I mentioned at the beginning, it might have been inherited from my uncle, my aunt’s husband from the Netherlands, who wore loose sweaters and listened to hip hop. My mum also had an uncle from the Indonesian side of the family, whom I never met, but he was very eccentric. Some of his clothes made their way to us over the years, and when I looked at these pieces in the closet, I was fascinated by how they reflected his personality. Asian fashion became a bit closer to me because of this, and I might even explore it someday.

The heart necklace you wear all the time, even today, is from your girlfriend. Do you ever dress your girlfriend or does she dress you?

My girlfriend is very fashion-oriented and has played a big role in my fashion development. She has always encouraged me when I tried new clothes that, at the time, seemed more radical to me. In this way, she partially shaped me. We also really enjoy shopping together. She dresses me more often than I dress her, which means I ask her for opinion. There have also been times when we’ve dressed the same when it comes to basic pieces; we’ve never really styled each other, but there will probably be time for that in the future.

Where do you like to go for vintage pieces in Ljubljana? Did you find any gems while on tour across Europe?

Textile House Vintage Shop is, in my opinion, by far the best in Ljubljana. The next one is Humana on Stritarjeva street, where I find something every now and then. Abroad, we’ve visited many vintage shops in Dublin, Paris, and London. In the latter, I always go to Brick Lane, which is a street with vintage shops in the east side of central London, where the more hipster area starts. The downside is that it quickly becomes quite an expensive experience.

What kind of information can you deduce about a person based on what they’re wearing? Who, in your opinion, is truly well-dressed?

A person’s style is never a reason not to engage in conversation with them, but it is a very strong stimulator of my interest in that person. If I think someone is really well-dressed, I automatically assume they might think similarly to me and be interested in the same artistic, musical, or visual directions, so I’m more eager to talk to them. However, I’ve often met people who didn’t seem interestingly dressed, and later realised they were amazing people, even if they dressed completely casually.

Your audience expresses itself very differently in terms of fashion, as your parents also mentioned in a recent interview for Elle. How do you as a band perceive this?

Yes, what they meant was that it is no longer the case that you have to be "appropriately" dressed for a rock concert. When we observe the audience from the stage, I would say that the most typical thing for our time is that we are no longer genre-bound. Not just musically, but also in terms of fashion. 30 or 40 years ago, you would see people at a rock concert in leather jackets, black shoes, and jeans, and that was it. Today, you have flamboyant outfits with blue and green hair in one corner, gothic style in another, and of course, people in simple t-shirts and pants somewhere in the middle. And no one feels like they don’t belong; everyone sings our songs, and that’s really nice.

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❗Please do not repost without credit, and if you quote, please link back to this post!

[fluffywolverine]

percy jackson tv show airs tomorrow.

it's been 3,5 years since the announcement. 3,5 years of waiting. we were getting scraps of information - that it will be developed by disney+, who the showrunners will be.

2020 turned to 2021. still waiting.

then 2022 came. we saw percy for the first time and we loved him immidiately. then we got more and more. annabeth, grover, other campers. the gods.

we got the first teaser trailer. it showed us barely nothing, but we couldn't have been happier. it showed camp half-blood. it felt like home.

2022 turned to 2023. still waiting.

we got another teasers. a full trailer, which finally showed us more, which made the anticipation even more anxious. we had our doubts, but we were hopefull.

the release date dropped. we feared we'll have to wait till 2024, but it seemed like the christmas came early - quite literally, 20th december to be precise.

the actors strike was long, we were sad and angry we might not see our precious, wonderful actors promoting something they loved so much. but the studios bowed to the creators. actors won. we all won.

2023 almost came to an end. november, the last month ever without percy jackson tv show, ended. still waiting.

and then december started. we got posters, clips, photos. so much content we craved for when the only thing we had was an announcement. we were suddenly spoiled with so much content, that we weren't even able to see everything.

the nyc premiere took place. first reviews came. the critics approved it. the lucky fans, who saw the first episodes, loved it. we were ecstatic.

and suddenly it's december 19th. the wait is almost over.

percy jackson tv show airs tomorrow.

so prepare your camp half-blood t-shirts. wear your beat necklaces with pride. have some blue snacks. celebrate the way you want.

rejoice, demigods, this is our time. we made it.

[strongbabe2907]

Here’s a little review of Zepp Haneda - Dir en grey Who is this hell for tour 2024

In the morning i took a wrong train and almost ended in Yokohama, lmao. In the end i was there around 10:40 and we got the merch tickets.

After that we met up with a few people and had some food. The cafe/bar we went too was blasting Dir all day and played their pvs inside too, it was surreal but very cute.

Visnu brought the art books and it was so cool to see them irl before she put them in the gift box🥰 everyone worked so hard!! Go check out #SilverCoinProject if you haven’t! I’m not an artist i send in some pictures hehe. There’s also a picture in there of my gifts.. maybe i’ll post them later on social media now i have given them.

So we walked around a bit and went to the torii my friend recommended, but they were doing construction work right around it so it was a bit noisy.

When it was time for merch we found out todays sticker was Kaoru!! I hoped a shiny but unfortunately just normal ones. Still cute.

I bought more merch for friends and some standees, did some trading with other japanese fans and some gift exchange 🥰 honestly everyone has been so nice and sweet.

We god dinner before the show and i started to get nervous again.. we split up waiting because we had different numbers and i was very focused on the counting haha.

I had 235 for vip which got me… 6th row maybe? Second barrier in zepp. Which was.. i had hoped for a bit closer but it is what it is.

Again i was between Kaoru and Kyo and looked at them most. Shinya wore his white outfit, Die also wore a white outfit. I think Toshiya was all black? He wore the shorts with something on top and dramatic separate sleeves.

Kaoru looked amazing! He was in all black. Black dress shirt with big collar. Wearing a small, wide black tie. His waistcoat thing and trousers/shorts were the same texture/print. The waistcoat was much more wide/baggy and shorter in the front and longer in the back. I think it had 2 rows of 3 buttons on it. The shorts were just passed his knees and veryy wide with big pockets on the sides. He wore black leggings with them again. Black dr martens and i think socks?

His hair was pulled back in a little ponytail and he had two strands loose in the front. One behind his ear and one just loose. He had the usual make up, little fangs, eyeliner and dark shading especially around his head. He was the only one that didn’t change for the encore.

Kyo wore the same simple outfit. I still couldn’t make out the tat very well, but thought i could discern some points to it.. Visnu later mentioned she thinks it’s either like a little star or a cross?

He wore low black doc martens this time.

His voice was just 💯from the start. They seemed more energetic/relaxed than the first show (which was still really good btw). He did some dancing (god he’s so tiny..) and moved around and took his earpieces out to listen to the crowd sing/shout. Closer to the end he pointed at two people, one right ahead of me. I think one of them had made a tattoo like him and he was smiling? Cute.

Also HELLOOO obscure was so awesome. It was the more recent version which i personally prefer. It was so cool!! And i mentioned this on twitter already but Kaoru didnt do much wahwah but he did grunt along with tsumi no kisei and was doing tough guy act to the crowd and singing along with a song (sorry cant remember which) for a long but, it was really cute. They switched sides once i think. My friends said there was almost a twin towers collision but i didnt see.

After the last song (Eddie), Kyo did a big smile and said ‘bye bye’ and he was off.

Shinya’s drumstick landed right next to my foot but i was busy looking at Kaoru😭😂🙈(he was also throwing stuff). Then girl next to me notices a tiny but before me and bend down to grab it, but it was fine i mosty found it funny i missed it cos i was going 👁️ at Kao.

Everyone but Kyo also threw a tour towel.. maybe shinya didnt? Im not sure. Toshiya was smiling and put his face in it before tossing it in the crowd lol. Kaoru also threw it near the front and Die tied a knot in it again and pitched it to the back of the venue lol.

So good live! Girls around me were lively but i was standing at a bit of a dead area in the crowd?? I liked both citta and zepp even though the vibes were different. (Citta was def more intense)

After the show we got the vip bags! They’re very cute. And now i try and recover a little before heading to Kyoto.

[gormengeist]

THE REVIEWS ARE IN:

"I like your shirt." - man on the street

"This whips ass" - @txttletale

"These shirts fuck" - @ratwavegamehouse

AND MORE!

You heard it here first: GREED shirts are the sound of the summer. Cut off the sleeves, crop it, mix and match it, do whatever you have to do because it's summer 2024, the summer of the GRoutfit (GREED outfit).

[artyandink]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐱𝐲𝐳 3

SUMMARY: You’re the first female president of the USA, having won the 2014 elections against Amara Shurley by a landslide. Now that you were a symbol of feminism, reform and a better country, it meant that there were a lot more assassination attempts bound to be on your head. For that, you needed a personal bodyguard, so you had to pick right. And you picked right in convicted ex-hitman Dean Winchester. Right?

TW: assassination attempts, ex-hitman!Dean, POTUS!reader, politics!au, politics, murder, gunfire, boss reader, major sexual tension between reader and Dean but also romantic tension cause we love that, post shower!dean, reader thirsting over Dean, very not professional stuff, Dean being a thirst trap, besties being besties, attempted murder by proxy, slow/quick burn, y’all will have to figure that out

A/N: In honour of our queen Kamala Harris, who didn’t win the 2024 elections, so I give you what could’ve been

NOW PLAYING: Play With Fire by Sam Tinnesz (ft. Yacht Money)

reformed symbol

It was late. The type of late where the world outside was swallowed by silence, the soft hum of the White House barely a murmur against the quiet of the night. The only sound that accompanied you as you worked in your bedroom was the faint clicking of your pen as you reviewed the never-ending stack of paperwork. You’d taken on more than you had anticipated since you’d assumed the presidency, and though your mind begged for rest, the tasks never seemed to slow down.

Tonight, you’d chosen to forgo the usual formal attire in favor of something more comfortable—sleep shorts and a loose pajama shirt, your hair loosely pulled back from your face. The outfit was an indulgence in practicality, something that allowed you to focus on the task at hand without feeling confined. Yet, even in these less-than-presidential clothes, you still felt the weight of the power you held. You had to.

You sighed, rubbing your eyes as you closed the last of the files in front of you. It was time to call it a night. As you gathered up your papers, you noticed something out of place—the jacket of Dean’s suit hanging over the back of one of the chairs. Dean.

You hadn’t seen much of him lately, but you were well aware of how easy it was to get lost in the day-to-day of your duties. His presence had become as much a part of your routine as anything else, though, unlike the paperwork, his presence made you… distracted.

You picked up the jacket, noting how perfectly it had been tailored to his broad shoulders. Dean looked good in that suit. Too good. But you weren’t going to let yourself dwell on that now. He was probably fast asleep by now, after all.

With a soft exhale, you turned to leave your bedroom. You could return the jacket to his room—he was likely asleep by now, probably in his bed, far enough from the office to miss your small intrusion. As you walked down the hallway toward his quarters, you couldn’t shake the lingering sense of curiosity about what was behind that closed door.

You reached his office, noticing that the door was slightly ajar. Of course, Dean never really seemed to care about privacy—either that, or he simply had no awareness of his own effect on people. You peered into the room, making sure he wasn’t awake, and decided to step in.

You wanted to be the considerate one—this wasn’t about your attraction to him, not entirely. You were the President; you had a job to do. So, with that in mind, you walked into the room and began to place the jacket at the foot of his bed. As you did so, you froze.

The bathroom door opened.

And there he was.

Dean.

The man was standing in the doorway, only a towel wrapped around his waist, his damp hair falling in wet curls around his face. His sharp jawline glistened with droplets of water, and his bare chest—oh, his bare chest—was the epitome of muscle and power. He was a goddamn vision in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. Your heart skipped a beat, and it was as though your brain had temporarily short-circuited, unable to process the sight before you.

He hadn’t noticed you yet.

You froze. He froze. The two of you stood there in the doorway for a moment, each unsure how to move, unsure how to act. Your breath caught in your throat.

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

Dean’s brow furrowed in surprise as he stepped back from the doorway, eyes widening slightly. His expression quickly morphed into a mixture of confusion and, dare you think it, amusement. “Well, this is awkward.”

You cleared your throat, suddenly aware of how completely unprepared you were for this moment. Your fingers fidgeted with the collar of his jacket as you offered an awkward, half-hearted smile. “I—uh—I came to bring your jacket back,” you said, your voice sounding far too casual for the circumstances. “I didn’t think you’d still be… up.”

Dean chuckled softly, running a hand through his damp hair as he took a step toward you. His muscles rippled under the dim light, and you couldn’t help but sneak a glance at the defined lines of his chest and abdomen. You forced yourself to look away, but it was hard.

“I wasn’t exactly planning on having company,” he said, voice low and rich, like velvet. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze lingered on you, and for a split second, you felt his eyes trace over your form, not lingering on the obvious—your face—but rather… everything else. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread through you at that.

“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you stammered, trying to gather your thoughts, trying to focus. “I’ll just—um—I’ll just leave this here.”

Dean stepped closer, his proximity making the air thick with tension. “You’re not interrupting,” he said, his voice barely a whisper now. “It’s just…” He paused, his eyes flicking over you once again. “Well, this is… unexpected.”

It was impossible not to feel self-conscious now. The way his gaze moved over you—it wasn’t just lingering. It was studying, savoring. A shiver ran down your spine, and for a moment, you wondered if he could hear the frantic beating of your heart.

Your hands shook as you gently placed his jacket on the edge of the bed. You couldn’t even look him in the eye anymore. Why did you feel so… flustered? This wasn’t a presidential matter. It wasn’t official business. It was a man in a towel and a woman in sleepwear, both with an undeniable tension hanging in the air. You swallowed, trying to control your racing pulse.

“Dean,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You should… probably put some clothes on.”

Dean didn’t seem bothered by your comment. If anything, the grin that crept onto his face only deepened the tension. He looked you over again, eyes softening as his lips curled into something dangerously close to flirtation. “I’m not bothering you, am I?” he asked, his voice dripping with a teasing undertone.

“No,” you said quickly, far too quickly, and you mentally cursed yourself. “No, of course not. I was just… returning your jacket.”

“Mm-hmm.” Dean’s eyes darkened, and you could tell that he was amused. “You’re sure you didn’t come in here for something else?”

You stiffened, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was now. The heat from his body seemed to radiate through the space between you, and it was enough to send your heart racing again. You cursed yourself internally—this was Dean. He was your bodyguard, and you were his charge. There was no room for these kinds of distractions.

“No,” you said, more firmly this time, even though your voice still betrayed you. “Just your jacket.”

Dean tilted his head slightly, still holding that maddeningly confident smirk. “Alright then.”

The moment stretched out, the awkwardness thick in the air as neither of you seemed to know how to proceed. The words didn’t come easy now, and all you could focus on was the man in front of you, his damp skin gleaming faintly in the low light, the way his eyes seemed to burn into yours.

“Well,” you finally said, your voice sounding smaller than you’d intended. “I should get going. I have a lot of work to do.”

Dean nodded slowly, his smirk never faltering. “Of course. I’ll let you get back to it.”

And yet, as you turned to leave, there was something in his eyes—something that made you second-guess your exit. Something that made your pulse quicken once again.

“Goodnight,” you said, your voice soft as you gave him a brief glance over your shoulder.

“Goodnight,” he echoed, his tone far warmer than before, his gaze lingering a moment too long.

And as you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t stop the rush of heat that spread across your cheeks. You had no idea why you were so flustered, but you couldn’t deny the undeniable pull that had just passed between you.

You silently cursed your attraction to him, but deep down, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it.

Dean Winchester was proving to be one hell of a distraction.

The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains of the Oval Office, casting a soft golden glow over the room. The White House, as ever, was buzzing with activity, but inside the small dining area where you sat with Bella and Steph, it was just the three of you. Or, rather, it was supposed to be just the three of you.

You sat at the table, your breakfast half-finished but completely ignored. Your fork hovered in the air, the scrambled eggs barely touched. You’d barely registered that you were supposed to be eating. Your mind was elsewhere—on him.

Dean.

Your bodyguard.

Last night had been… distracting. A complete and utter disaster in the form of a ridiculously handsome man stepping out of the shower in nothing but a towel. And those eyes. Those dark, penetrating eyes that seemed to strip away any composure you had left. Your cheeks were still flushed thinking about it. You had tried to push the memory out of your head, but it clung to you like the scent of a perfume that wouldn’t wash away.

The way his damp hair fell over his forehead, the droplets of water glistening on his skin, the way his towel clung to his hips—God, your body had gone completely still in his presence, and not in the way you were used to. It wasn’t professional, it wasn’t rational, it was just hot.

You hadn’t even managed to get a proper word out, your mouth practically dry as you stood frozen in place. He’d looked at you, looked at you as though you were the only person in the room—and maybe you were.

You tore your gaze away from your plate for the hundredth time to look at Bella and Steph, both of whom were now watching you with amused expressions, one of them leaning forward, her elbows resting on the table.

Bella smirked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up with you, huh? You seem like you’ve forgotten we exist.”

Steph, always more perceptive than Bella, grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Girl, you’re miles away. We could’ve talked about anything, but you’ve been staring at your eggs for, like, the last ten minutes. What’s going on?”

You swallowed thickly, trying to maintain your composure, but the truth was, you couldn’t focus on anything other than Dean. You hadn’t had a moment like that in… well, ever. You’d been attracted to men before, but this? This felt different.

Your hand unconsciously reached for your glass of water, but it wasn’t until you noticed Bella and Steph looking at you with knowing smiles that you snapped out of it. “What?” You almost jumped out of your skin, hoping they hadn’t noticed how lost you’d been.

Steph raised her cup of coffee and sipped it lazily. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering if your brain checked out of this conversation completely, or if it’s just playing hooky.”

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, your skin suddenly feeling like it was on fire. You couldn’t lie to them—not really. Not when they had that look in their eyes. They weren’t stupid. They knew something was up.

Bella leaned in with a sly grin, her eyes practically sparkling with mischief. “We’ve been friends for how long now, huh? You’re telling us nothing happened last night? Nothing?”

You swallowed again, resisting the urge to shift uncomfortably in your seat. “What are you talking about?” you asked, trying to play it cool.

Steph didn’t let you off the hook. She put her coffee down and stared at you seriously, her eyes narrowing. “Come on, you were talking about him last night, and now you can’t even focus? You’ve been staring at that plate like it’s your first meal in months.”

Your heart pounded as the realization hit you—they knew. They were onto you.

You let out a shaky breath. You could feel your pulse racing, the thought of admitting what had happened last night making your stomach flip uncomfortably. “It’s just…” You trailed off, trying to find the words, your fingers nervously tapping the edge of your glass.

Bella’s smirk only widened. “Come on, tell us. What’s the deal with you and your very handsome bodyguard?”

Your breath caught. You hadn’t expected them to be so direct, and yet it was exactly what you needed. You let out a long breath, looking down at the table to avoid their eyes.

“I—uh—saw him,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “I saw him after he got out of the shower last night.”

Steph’s eyebrows shot up. “Wait… what? You saw him? How much did you see?”

You quickly pressed your hands to your face, feeling the heat of embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to. I just went in to drop his jacket off, and the door was open and—he was right there.” You cringed, realizing you had practically sounded like an untrained schoolgirl.

Bella raised her hands in mock surrender, her grin widening. “Okay, okay, so you accidentally walked in on him after he showered and he was… what? Naked?”

“Well, not completely,” you muttered, the embarrassment quickly turning to something else—something much more distracting. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “But he was wearing just a towel. And—God, it was—” You could feel yourself getting flustered, your thoughts stumbling over each other. “It was like being hit by a freight train. He’s—he’s so damn hot.” You could feel the heat pooling in your chest.

Bella and Steph exchanged looks before both of them leaned forward, their eyes wide with excitement.

“Wait,” Bella said, her voice dropping dramatically. “So, let me get this straight. You saw him like that… and you’re just sitting here, pretending it didn’t melt your brain?”

You swallowed, leaning back in your chair, trying to gather yourself. The truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about the way his towel had clung to his waist, the faint droplets of water still clinging to his skin, the way his eyes had locked onto yours, making your heart race in your chest. “I—I don’t know what to say. I just—I didn’t expect it, okay? He’s Dean. My bodyguard. He’s… well, he’s Dean. And I just—” You cut yourself off, embarrassed that you were so clearly fumbling.

Steph was practically glowing, her face alight with a mixture of amusement and admiration. “Okay, okay. So tell me this, though. How did he look? Like… was it as good as the pictures?”

You bit your lip, glancing down at the table again, trying to hide your smile. “Better,” you admitted, unable to help yourself. “He’s even better-looking than his photos.”

Bella burst out laughing, shaking her head. “Girl, you’re down bad. And I’m here for it.”

Steph joined in, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “This is so much better than I imagined. I’m living for this moment.”

You sighed dramatically, trying to hide the way your stomach flipped at the thought of Dean in nothing but a towel. “I just—why does he have to be so distracting?” You didn’t even realize you’d spoken the last part out loud until it was too late.

Steph and Bella both looked at each other with knowing smirks.

“You like him, don’t you?” Bella teased. “You’ve got it bad. I see it.”

You groaned, slumping into your chair in frustration. “I don’t know what’s happening,” you admitted, rubbing your forehead as if trying to erase the images of Dean from your mind. “I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. I’m the President, for God’s sake.”

Steph reached across the table, patting your hand sympathetically. “Hey, you can’t help who you’re attracted to. But you are the President, so maybe take it slow, huh?”

You sighed again, your mind too clouded with thoughts of Dean, his strong arms, the way his voice had sent shivers down your spine. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll try.”

But deep down, you knew you were already too far gone to try and play it cool.

You were definitely down bad for Dean Winchester.

The small, sterile room Dean called his quarters in the White House was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. The night outside was dark and still, the corridors beyond his door silent as most of the staff retired for the evening. Dean sat on the edge of his bed, his boots kicked off and his tie loosened, staring at his phone as it buzzed against the nightstand.

The name on the screen gave him pause.

Benny Lafitte.

He hadn’t heard from Benny in a long time, but he wasn’t surprised to see the name now. If anyone could track him down, even inside the fortified walls of the White House, it was Benny. They had history—decades of shared jobs, secrets, and scars. Though Dean had walked away from that life, Benny had stayed behind, carving out his own path in the underworld.

Dean picked up the phone and answered with a quiet, “Benny. Long time, brother.”

The familiar Cajun drawl on the other end was as smooth as whiskey, tinged with a low, almost conspiratorial urgency. “Dean-o. You’re harder to reach these days. Guess it’s what happens when you’re babysitting royalty, huh?”

Dean let out a short laugh, though there was no humor behind it. “Yeah, something like that. What’s up? Didn’t think you’d call just to catch up.”

There was a brief pause, static crackling faintly in the background. Then Benny’s voice dropped, serious now. “I wouldn’t be callin’ if it wasn’t important. Figured I owed you a heads-up.”

Dean straightened, his instincts kicking in at the sudden change in tone. “What kind of heads-up?”

Benny sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of what he was about to say. “Got approached by some of Frank’s men. They wanted me to take out a contract. A big one.”

Dean’s blood ran cold. His jaw tightened, his grip on the phone hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He didn’t need to ask who the target was. He already knew. “You’re telling me they put out a hit on the President?”

“Yup,” Benny said, almost casually. But there was a current of tension beneath the calm. “Offered me a fat stack of cash to do it, too. Told me you’d gone soft, that you were playin’ house with the lady in charge and had betrayed the whole damn network.”

Dean swore under his breath, running a hand over his face. “And? What did you say?”

“I took their money, of course.” Benny chuckled lightly, but there was no mirth in it. “But relax, brother. I ain’t gonna do it. You know me better than that. Hell, I’d never hear the end of it if I put a bullet in your boss. Not that I’d wanna.”

Relief flooded Dean for a moment, but it was short-lived. The implications of what Benny was saying hit him hard. “Why the hell did you take the money, then?”

“Because it buys me time. If I’d said no, they’d just go to the next guy in line, and that guy might not be as nice as me. This way, I can stall ‘em. Play along for a bit, give you a chance to get your house in order.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “Benny—”

“Listen,” Benny interrupted, his tone sharper now. “You know how these things work. Frank’s boys are pissed, Dean. They think you flipped, and that ain’t something they’re gonna let slide. I don’t think I’m the only one they reached out to. They’re throwin’ money around like it’s candy, and you know what that means.”

Dean did. It meant a dozen guns aimed at the same target, and not all of them would hesitate.

“They’re gonna come for her,” Benny continued, his voice lower now. “And when they do, they ain’t gonna stop until someone cashes the check. You gotta be ready, man. Watch your six. Watch hers.”

Dean’s stomach tightened at the thought of you—working late into the night as you always did, pouring over documents, your brow furrowed in concentration. You were tough, no doubt about that, but this was a whole new level of danger. He didn’t like the thought of you being a target, vulnerable to the same ruthless world he’d worked so hard to leave behind.

“Yeah,” Dean said finally, his voice rough. “I’ll handle it.”

“You’d better,” Benny replied. “You’ve got somethin’ good here, Dean. Don’t let those bastards take it away from you.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, the line was quiet except for the faint hum of static. Then Benny added, softer now, “Take care of yourself, man. And her.”

“You too,” Dean muttered, then ended the call.

He sat there for a moment, the phone still in his hand, his thoughts racing. This wasn’t just about him anymore. It wasn’t just his life on the line. It was yours. You—the woman who had somehow managed to earn his respect and loyalty in such a short amount of time, the woman who had stood up for him when no one else would, who had looked him in the eye and trusted him despite everything she knew about his past.

Dean exhaled sharply and stood, shoving his phone into his pocket. He needed to focus, to plan. There were too many variables, too many unknowns. But one thing was certain: he wasn’t going to let anyone lay a finger on you. Not while he was around.

The small, sterile room Dean called his quarters in the White House was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioning. The night outside was dark and still, the corridors beyond his door silent as most of the staff retired for the evening. Dean sat on the edge of his bed, his boots kicked off and his tie loosened, staring at his phone as it buzzed against the nightstand.

The name on the screen gave him pause.

Benny Lafitte.

He hadn’t heard from Benny in a long time, but he wasn’t surprised to see the name now. If anyone could track him down, even inside the fortified walls of the White House, it was Benny. They had history—decades of shared jobs, secrets, and scars. Though Dean had walked away from that life, Benny had stayed behind, carving out his own path in the underworld.

Dean picked up the phone and answered with a quiet, “Benny. Long time, brother.”

The familiar Cajun drawl on the other end was as smooth as whiskey, tinged with a low, almost conspiratorial urgency. “Dean-o. You’re harder to reach these days. Guess it’s what happens when you’re babysitting royalty, huh?”

Dean let out a short laugh, though there was no humor behind it. “Yeah, something like that. What’s up? Didn’t think you’d call just to catch up.”

There was a brief pause, static crackling faintly in the background. Then Benny’s voice dropped, serious now. “I wouldn’t be callin’ if it wasn’t important. Figured I owed you a heads-up.”

Dean straightened, his instincts kicking in at the sudden change in tone. “What kind of heads-up?”

Benny sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of what he was about to say. “Got approached by some of Frank’s men. They wanted me to take out a contract. A big one.”

Dean’s blood ran cold. His jaw tightened, his grip on the phone hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He didn’t need to ask who the target was. He already knew. “You’re telling me they put out a hit on the President?”

“Yup,” Benny said, almost casually. But there was a current of tension beneath the calm. “Offered me a fat stack of cash to do it, too. Told me you’d gone soft, that you were playin’ house with the lady in charge and had betrayed the whole damn network.”

Dean swore under his breath, running a hand over his face. “And? What did you say?”

“I took their money, of course.” Benny chuckled lightly, but there was no mirth in it. “But relax, brother. I ain’t gonna do it. You know me better than that. Hell, I’d never hear the end of it if I put a bullet in your boss. Not that I’d wanna.”

Relief flooded Dean for a moment, but it was short-lived. The implications of what Benny was saying hit him hard. “Why the hell did you take the money, then?”

“Because it buys me time. If I’d said no, they’d just go to the next guy in line, and that guy might not be as nice as me. This way, I can stall ‘em. Play along for a bit, give you a chance to get your house in order.”

Dean gritted his teeth. “Benny—”

“Listen,” Benny interrupted, his tone sharper now. “You know how these things work. Frank’s boys are pissed, Dean. They think you flipped, and that ain’t something they’re gonna let slide. I don’t think I’m the only one they reached out to. They’re throwin’ money around like it’s candy, and you know what that means.”

Dean did. It meant a dozen guns aimed at the same target, and not all of them would hesitate.

“They’re gonna come for her,” Benny continued, his voice lower now. “And when they do, they ain’t gonna stop until someone cashes the check. You gotta be ready, man. Watch your six. Watch hers.”

Dean’s stomach tightened at the thought of you—working late into the night as you always did, pouring over documents, your brow furrowed in concentration. You were tough, no doubt about that, but this was a whole new level of danger. He didn’t like the thought of you being a target, vulnerable to the same ruthless world he’d worked so hard to leave behind.

“Yeah,” Dean said finally, his voice rough. “I’ll handle it.”

“You’d better,” Benny replied. “You’ve got somethin’ good here, Dean. Don’t let those bastards take it away from you.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, the line was quiet except for the faint hum of static. Then Benny added, softer now, “Take care of yourself, man. And her.”

“You too,” Dean muttered, then ended the call.

He sat there for a moment, the phone still in his hand, his thoughts racing. This wasn’t just about him anymore. It wasn’t just his life on the line. It was yours. You—the woman who had somehow managed to earn his respect and loyalty in such a short amount of time, the woman who had stood up for him when no one else would, who had looked him in the eye and trusted him despite everything she knew about his past.

Dean exhaled sharply and stood, shoving his phone into his pocket. He needed to focus, to plan. There were too many variables, too many unknowns. But one thing was certain: he wasn’t going to let anyone lay a finger on you. Not while he was around.

The next morning, you were in your office as usual, poring over a mountain of paperwork. The soft sound of your pen scratching against the paper filled the quiet room. You were wearing one of your usual tailored outfits, a blazer and skirt that somehow managed to look both professional and effortless. You were the picture of focus and determination, your brow furrowed slightly as you worked through the endless list of tasks that came with running the country.

But Dean couldn’t stop thinking about Benny’s warning. He stood just outside your office door, his arms crossed, his gaze scanning the hallway for any sign of trouble. His mind was a mess of plans and contingencies, all centered around keeping you safe. He knew the risks, knew the lengths to which Frank’s men would go. And he knew that if they made a move, it wouldn’t be subtle.

He couldn’t tell you—not yet, at least. You had enough on your plate without worrying about hitmen and criminal syndicates. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do everything in his power to protect you.

Inside the office, you glanced up from your paperwork and caught sight of Dean through the glass panel in the door. He was standing there, stoic as ever, his sharp green eyes scanning the hallway with the kind of intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

You couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of security whenever he was around. Despite his past, despite everything you knew about him, there was something about Dean that made you trust him implicitly. He was always there, always watching, always ready to step in if anything went wrong.

But there was something else, too—something you tried to ignore. The way your pulse quickened whenever he was near, the way your thoughts seemed to drift back to him no matter how hard you tried to focus. You’d never admit it, not even to yourself, but the truth was undeniable: Dean Winchester wasn’t just your bodyguard. He was the man who had somehow managed to turn your carefully ordered world upside down.

And now, whether you knew it or not, he was the man standing between you and the shadows creeping ever closer.

Dean’s grip on the hitman’s arm was like iron as he pushed him forward, moving swiftly through the corridors back toward where the Secret Service agents waited. The man squirmed and spat venomous words as they walked, his tone low and seething.

“You think she’s safe with you?” the hitman hissed, his voice cold and deliberate. “You’re just delaying the inevitable. People like her? Too many enemies. Too many people want her gone. She’ll never see it coming.”

Dean didn’t flinch, his jaw tightening as his icy green eyes bored into the back of the man’s head. He didn’t dignify the threat with a response, choosing instead to keep his focus forward, on getting this bastard into custody.

“Face it,” the man continued, his voice laced with malice. “This doesn’t end here. This is just the beginning.”

Dean stopped abruptly, yanking the man to a halt so forcefully that the hitman stumbled. Turning him sharply, Dean grabbed the front of the man’s shirt and pulled him close, his voice dangerously low. “You don’t know a damn thing about me, or her,” he said, his tone a cold growl that sent chills down the man’s spine. “If you so much as breathe another word about her, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

The hitman sneered, but Dean’s grip was unyielding. He shoved the man forward again, his pace brisk as he finally reached the waiting Secret Service detail outside the orphanage. The agents were already on high alert, their faces tense as they took in the scene.

“Take him,” Dean ordered, shoving the hitman into their custody. “Lock him down. Maximum security. I don’t want him talking to anyone but you, and only when I say so.”

The agents nodded, their professionalism evident as they hauled the man away, but the hitman’s threats lingered in the air. “She’s not safe. You’ll see!” he yelled, his voice echoing down the corridor as he was dragged out of sight.

Dean watched him go, his expression hard and unreadable. Only when the man was gone did he allow himself to breathe, his shoulders dropping slightly as the tension began to ease. But when he turned, his eyes immediately found you, standing near the corner of the room, trying your best to appear composed despite the chaos that had just unfolded.

You weren’t fooling him.

Even from a distance, Dean could see the subtle tremble in your hands as you folded them tightly against your chest. Your shoulders were stiff, your breaths shallow, and though you were making an admirable effort to mask the fear coursing through you, Dean knew better. He could see it in your eyes—the panic, the shock, the fear that you couldn’t quite shake.

Without hesitation, Dean walked over to you, his movements purposeful but calm, his footsteps steady against the polished floor. He didn’t say a word as he reached you, his towering presence immediately blocking out the rest of the world.

“C’mon,” he said softly, his voice gentle in a way you weren’t used to hearing. He placed a hand lightly on your back, guiding you toward a quieter, more secluded part of the orphanage where no one else would bother you.

You didn’t protest, your legs moving mechanically as you followed his lead. The shock was starting to set in now, a cold weight pressing against your chest as the events replayed in your mind. The laughter of the children, the sudden crack of the gunshot, the image of Dean stepping in front of you without hesitation—all of it played in a relentless loop, leaving you reeling.

Dean led you to a small, empty lounge at the back of the building, closing the door behind you to shut out the noise. The room was dimly lit, with a worn-out couch and a few scattered chairs, but it was quiet, and that was all that mattered.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you felt your composure begin to crack. Your breathing hitched, and you turned away from Dean, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to hold it together.

But it was no use. The fear that had been building inside you finally spilled over, and before you knew it, you were trembling, tears welling in your eyes as your body betrayed you.

Dean saw it happen—the way your shoulders shook, the way you tried to hide your face as the tears started to fall. He didn’t hesitate. Closing the distance between you, he gently placed his hands on your shoulders, his touch firm but comforting.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice steady and calm. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking as you finally let the words spill out. “I— I thought I was fine. I thought I could handle it, but I—”

“You don’t have to handle it alone,” Dean interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. He moved closer, his hands sliding down to your arms as he turned you to face him. “I’ve got you, okay? I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

The sincerity in his voice was overwhelming, and it broke something inside you. The tears came harder now, and before you could stop yourself, you buried your face against his chest, your hands clutching at his shirt as the sobs wracked your body.

Dean didn’t hesitate. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly as you let everything out. His hand moved to the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair as he murmured softly, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

You stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, the warmth of his embrace grounding you as the fear slowly ebbed away. Dean didn’t let go, his arms a steady presence that made you feel safer than you had in weeks.

Eventually, your sobs subsided, and your breathing evened out. You pulled back slightly, your cheeks flushed and your eyes red from crying, but there was a faint sense of relief in your chest now—a sense that, maybe, you weren’t as alone in this as you had feared.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t,” Dean cut you off gently, his voice firm but kind. “You don’t have to apologize. You’ve been through a hell of a lot, and you’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you met his eyes. There was something in his gaze—an unwavering determination, a promise that you knew he would keep.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dean gave you a small, reassuring smile, his hands still resting lightly on your arms. “You don’t have to thank me. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

But it wasn’t just his words that comforted you—it was the way he said them, the way he looked at you like you were more than just a job. Like you were someone worth protecting, someone worth fighting for.

And in that moment, as the world outside continued to spin in chaos, you let yourself believe him.

The night had settled in around the White House, and the silence in the halls was punctuated only by the faint hum of air conditioning and the distant murmur of security. Inside your bedroom, the air felt heavy, a mix of the warmth from the blankets tangled around your body and the cool unease that clung to you after the events of the day.

Dean had insisted on staying close after the shooting incident earlier, much to your initial hesitation. You were used to being independent, to handling things on your own, but after everything that had happened, his presence felt strangely comforting. So, when he asked if he could move a sofa into the hallway outside your room for the night, you hadn’t been able to say no.

You’d spent the evening trying to act like everything was normal—trying to forget the weight of the threat against your life, to put on a brave face for your staff, and for the children at the orphanage. But now, lying in bed, it felt impossible to escape the fear that had crept into your bones.

You turned over in bed, pulling the covers up to your chin as the darkness seemed to press in on you from all sides. Your mind wouldn’t quiet, the images of the gunshot and Dean rushing to protect you replaying over and over. Every sound seemed amplified in the stillness, and each shadow in the corners of the room seemed to take on a life of its own.

Suddenly, the silence was shattered by a loud crack of thunder, and you jolted upright in bed, your heart pounding in your chest. It wasn’t the storm that had startled you—it was the sudden nightmare, the sharp feeling of being hunted, of someone coming for you. You gasped for air as you tried to steady yourself, but the panic only grew, making your chest feel tight and your breathing shallow.

The nightmare had felt so real—the hitman’s words echoing in your mind, the cold barrel of a gun pressing to your temple, the realization that no matter what, you couldn’t escape.

You swallowed hard, blinking against the tears that threatened to spill. You could feel the familiar panic rising in your throat, threatening to choke you.

"Shit," you muttered to yourself, rubbing your hands over your face as if that could erase the fear. You didn’t want to wake up anyone, especially not Dean. He’d already done so much today—risked his life to protect you—and now you were losing it over a nightmare.

But as you lay there, trying to calm your breathing, you heard a faint noise—footsteps, muffled but steady. Your heart skipped a beat as the door to your room creaked open just slightly.

"Madam President?" Dean’s voice, low and rough, was a whisper in the dark.

You froze. How had he known? How had he heard you? You hadn’t even realized that you were still trembling until you heard his voice, and the warmth of it seeped through the panic that had a stranglehold on your chest.

"Dean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "What are you doing in here?"

"I heard you," he said simply, his tone steady. "I heard you wake up."

You could feel his presence before you saw him—tall, imposing, yet strangely gentle as he moved toward you in the dark. The soft creak of the floorboards beneath his boots was the only sound besides the steady thrum of your heartbeat.

"I’m fine," you said quickly, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "Just a bad dream."

Dean didn’t respond right away. Instead, there was a pause, and then the soft thud of his boots on the floor as he took a step closer. You felt his warmth before he even spoke, his voice rough but kind.

"Can I come in?" he asked, almost hesitant, as if waiting for you to give him permission.

You nodded, even though you didn’t really have to say it. You could feel the tension in the room—the mix of discomfort, vulnerability, and something else, something unspoken. But you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. There was something in the way he said it, in the way he always said everything. It wasn’t just the bodyguard, the protector—it was Dean.

"Yeah," you whispered, shifting slightly on the bed to make room for him.

The door creaked open wider, and a few moments later, you felt his weight settle beside you on the edge of the bed, his posture tense yet somehow relaxed. His presence filled the space, his scent—leather, soap, and something undeniably him—swirling around you as he leaned closer, his gaze searching yours in the dim light.

"Nightmare?" he asked softly, his voice almost too gentle, like he didn’t want to disturb the fragile calm that had settled between you.

You nodded, your eyes flickering to his face, trying to read the expression that was hidden in the darkness. You could feel the vulnerability creeping in again, the fear, but there was something else now—comfort. Safety.

"It wasn’t just the hitman," you said quietly, your voice a little shaky as the nightmare still lingered in your mind. "It was... everything. The fear. The constant feeling that I’m being watched, that I can’t even trust the walls of this place."

Dean nodded slowly, his eyes locking onto yours as if he understood more than you expected. You could see the intensity in his gaze, the way his jaw clenched as he processed your words.

"Hey," he said, his voice steady. "You don’t have to go through this alone."

You shook your head, trying to mask the knot of emotion that was tightening in your chest. "I don’t want to be a burden to you, Dean. You’ve already done so much for me."

Dean’s expression softened, his brow furrowing slightly. "You’re not a burden," he said firmly, his voice unwavering. "I’m here to protect you, but I’m also here for you. Whatever you need, I’ve got you."

His words were simple, but they hit you harder than you expected. It was the first time someone had said that to you in a long time, and you realized—more than you’d care to admit—that you wanted to believe him. That you needed to believe him.

The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You could feel the weight of it, the quiet intimacy in the space between you. You tried to look away, but your eyes couldn’t seem to escape his. He was so close, just inches away, his warmth radiating toward you, his breath faintly brushing your skin.

You didn’t know who moved first—maybe it was him, maybe it was you—but before you could think twice, he was leaning in, his face inches from yours. Your breath caught in your throat as his gaze flickered down to your lips, and for a split second, the world seemed to slow, everything outside of this room fading away.

"Dean..." you whispered, the sound of his name on your lips hanging in the air like a promise.

"Shh," he murmured, his hand gently cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushed over your cheek, his touch surprisingly tender despite the raw intensity between you. "It’s okay. I’m here."

The words settled in your chest, a warmth spreading through you that chased away the lingering chill of the nightmare. For a moment, the world seemed to pause, and all you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding for an entirely different reason now.

Dean held your gaze, his green eyes searching yours as if trying to read every unspoken thought running through your mind. There was a tension in the air now, a charged moment that neither of you dared to break.

But then, as if sensing the shift, Dean cleared his throat and looked away, his hand dropping back to his side. “Do you... want me to stay?” he asked, his voice a little gruffer than before. “Just until you fall asleep?”

The offer was so unexpected, so selfless, that you felt your chest tighten. You nodded before you could second-guess yourself, your voice barely audible as you said, “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Dean stood, moving to grab a chair from the corner of the room and pulling it up beside your bed. He settled into it with a quiet sigh, his presence a comforting anchor as you lay back down.

“Get some rest,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving you. “I’ll be right here.”

And he was. Long after your breathing evened out and you drifted back to sleep, Dean stayed awake, watching over you like a sentinel. For all the nightmares that haunted your sleep, he was determined to be the one who kept them at bay.

The sun crept over the horizon, its golden light filtering through the curtains of your bedroom as you sat at your desk, absentmindedly shuffling through the stack of documents requiring your attention. But your mind wasn’t on the papers in front of you—it was still stuck on the events of the previous day. The gunshot, the chaos, Dean’s unwavering strength as he shielded you and took down the would-be assassin. You couldn’t seem to shake the residual fear that clung to you like a shadow.

You rubbed your eyes, trying to focus, when the sharp chime of the front doorbell startled you. Glancing at the clock, you frowned. It was far too early for visitors, and anyone official would have gone through the Secret Service detail stationed outside. Curious and slightly apprehensive, you pushed back from your desk and headed downstairs.

By the time you reached the grand foyer, Dean was already there, his tall figure filling the space as he opened the door. A rush of voices greeted him, and you paused at the foot of the stairs, narrowing your eyes as Bella and Steph barged inside, each dragging a large suitcase behind them.

“Oh, good morning, Madam President!” Bella chirped, her bright smile completely at odds with the scene unfolding.

“You look like you’ve been up all night,” Steph observed, her brow furrowing as she took you in. She turned to Bella. “She’s probably traumatized.”

“Absolutely,” Bella agreed, spinning back toward you. “That’s why we’re moving in.”

You blinked, staring at the two women as if they’d just announced they were planning to annex a small country. “Wait, what?”

Steph rolled her suitcase to the side, parking it neatly against the wall before crossing her arms. “You almost got killed yesterday. Killed. Bella and I talked it over, and we decided you shouldn’t be alone right now.”

“I’m not alone,” you argued weakly, gesturing to the security detail outside and Dean, who was standing with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. “I have, you know, professionals to keep me safe.”

Bella shook her head, her blonde curls bouncing with the movement. “Professionals can’t keep you company at two a.m. when you’re spiraling, thinking about what could have happened. We can.”

Steph chimed in, her tone firm. “We’re not taking no for an answer. And besides,” she added with a sly grin, “your guest rooms are bigger than my entire apartment.”

You opened your mouth to protest further, but the sheer determination in their eyes made it clear that you were fighting a losing battle. Instead, you turned to Dean, raising an eyebrow. “Do you know anything about this?”

Dean’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him since the assassination attempt. “Might’ve mentioned it to them,” he said casually, his deep voice carrying a hint of amusement. “Figured you could use some backup.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, caught off guard by the quiet thoughtfulness behind his actions. The corners of your mouth lifted in a small, genuine smile. “Thank you,” you said softly, the words carrying more weight than you intended.

Dean nodded, his gaze steady and reassuring, before stepping aside to let you deal with your unexpected houseguests.

Bella and Steph wasted no time, each grabbing a suitcase and heading for the stairs. “Come on,” Bella called over her shoulder. “Let’s get you set up with some real TLC.”

You followed them up to your bedroom, your protests fading as the reality of their presence began to sink in. While part of you wanted to cling to the independence and stoicism you prided yourself on, another part—the part that had spent the previous night battling fear and doubt—was deeply relieved to have them here.

Once inside your bedroom, Bella and Steph immediately set about making themselves at home. Bella perched on the edge of your bed, her sharp eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress, while Steph began unpacking a small bag filled with snacks, tea, and what appeared to be an entire pharmacy’s worth of calming supplements.

“All right,” Bella said, clapping her hands together. “Talk to us. How are you feeling? And don’t say ‘fine,’ because we know that’s a lie.”

You sighed, sitting down in the armchair near the window. “I’m… managing,” you said carefully. “It was terrifying, yes, but I’m trying to focus on the fact that I’m okay now. And that Dean was there.”

Steph raised an eyebrow. “Dean, huh? You’ve been mentioning him a lot lately.”

Bella leaned forward, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Oh, is that what this is about? You’re swooning over your hot bodyguard?”

“Bella,” you groaned, rubbing your temples. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Uh-huh,” she teased, but the playful tone softened as she added, “Seriously, though, it’s okay to feel shaken up. You don’t have to be the President right now. You can just be you. And we’re here for that.”

The sincerity in her voice made your chest tighten, and you felt a surge of gratitude for these two women who knew you better than almost anyone. For all their teasing and antics, they had an uncanny ability to make you feel grounded when everything else seemed to be spiraling out of control.

Steph handed you a steaming mug of tea, her expression gentler than usual. “Drink this. And then we’re going to binge-watch something ridiculous until you forget all about yesterday.”

You took the mug with a small smile, letting their warmth and care wrap around you like a shield.

As you settled back into the plush armchair, sipping the warm tea that Steph had handed you, the stress of the morning slowly began to melt away. The soothing scent of chamomile and honey helped ease the tightness in your chest, but the constant undercurrent of unease from the near-assassination attempt still lingered, just below the surface. You hadn’t realized how much you missed the presence of your friends—the comfort they brought was like an anchor in the storm of responsibilities and expectations that weighed on you every day.

As you glanced around the room, Bella was already making herself comfortable on the edge of your bed, her legs stretched out as she scrolled through her phone. Steph, meanwhile, was rummaging through the contents of her suitcase, looking particularly determined as she dug around in the neatly packed clothes.

“Where’s my damn nail kit?” Bella muttered under her breath, sounding mildly annoyed.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. Bella was always the one with the meticulous packing. Her suitcase was an organized chaos of products and clothes, but nothing ever seemed to be in the right place when she needed it.

“Why the hell would you put it in my bag?” Steph shot back, not looking up from her task. “I told you to pack your own damn stuff.”

“Oh, please,” Bella retorted, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m not the one who accidentally packed your pajamas in my bag last time.”

Steph let out an exasperated sigh, but she didn’t answer right away. Instead, she continued to search through Bella’s bag, grumbling to herself. You could tell this was a typical exchange for the two of them—bantering back and forth in a way that felt both natural and comforting, like the kind of bickering siblings might engage in.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not in there,” Steph finally said, giving up her search for a moment. “You probably packed it in your other bag.”

“You’re impossible,” Bella replied, crossing her arms in frustration. “But, fine, let’s see.” She leaned over, giving a dramatic sigh. “Why did I even bring you on this trip?”

“Because you love me,” Steph said smugly, her hands now diving into the depths of her other bag.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Bella muttered, her focus now back on her phone as she scrolled through a feed of photos. “But seriously, where did you put it?”

“Got it!” Steph called out triumphantly, pulling a small, glittery pouch from the bottom of her suitcase and waving it in the air like a prize.

Bella’s face lit up as she clapped her hands together. “I knew it. Thank you!”

“Don’t mention it,” Steph said flatly, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward in a small, knowing smile.

“You’re still a pain in my ass,” Bella teased, rolling her eyes as she reached for the nail kit.

Steph responded with a mock grimace. “I’m sure you love it.”

“You’re damn right I do,” Bella shot back with a wink. She turned her attention to you, her eyes glinting with excitement. “Okay, reader, you’ve been through hell today. It’s time for some pampering.”

Before you could even protest, Bella had already pulled out a nail file and was lifting one of your hands, inspecting your nails with a critical eye. “These are a tragedy,” she said dramatically, making you laugh. “We can’t have the President walking around with nails like these. We need to fix that immediately.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning hesitation. “I don’t know if I’m really in the mood for a full-on nail makeover. I kind of just want to… relax?”

“Exactly,” Bella said, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. “That’s why we’re doing this. You’ve been running on overdrive since the election. You need a break. So, while I work my magic on these nails,” she said, pulling out a bottle of a glittery polish from her kit, “Steph is going to put on one of our favorite shows, and we’re all going to pretend the world outside doesn’t exist.”

Steph finally settled down next to you on the bed, flicking the TV remote. “You’ll be fine. You can zone out while I put on F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and we have a mini girls’ night.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your two best friends working together, their playful dynamic soothing you. “You two really do know how to make everything better.”

Bella shot you a grin as she picked out the nail polish color, holding it up for you to see. “It’s what we’re here for, babe.”

As she began painting your nails with surprising precision, you leaned back into the pillows, feeling the tension in your body ease with each gentle stroke. The bright colors Bella chose were a stark contrast to the darker, more somber thoughts that had plagued you earlier that morning.

Steph was already flipping through the episodes of F.R.I.E.N.D.S., humming quietly under her breath as the opening credits played. “This is just what the doctor ordered,” she said happily, glancing over at you. “You’re going to feel so much better by the end of this.”

The familiar theme song filled the room as the opening scene of Monica’s apartment flashed on the screen, and you relaxed further into the bed, feeling safe and comforted by the laughter of your friends, the silly antics of the show, and the soothing, gentle touch of Bella as she worked on your nails.

“So,” Bella asked casually, glancing at you while she carefully worked on your other hand, “how’s everything really going with… him?” She winked, giggling. “Like, I know he’s your dibs, I respect girl code, but men like him are probably why I’m bisexual.”

You blinked in surprise, though the question didn’t come as a total shock. You knew exactly who she was referring to—Dean. Your mind immediately flashed to the way he’d been there for you yesterday, how he’d protected you without a second thought, his presence a steadying force. He was your bodyguard, yes, but the dynamic between you two had shifted in the past few days. You felt a connection, a bond that went beyond duty or professionalism, and it was hard to ignore.

“I’m… not sure,” you admitted, your voice quieter than usual. “It’s complicated.”

Steph raised an eyebrow, glancing up from the show. “Complicated how?”

You thought for a moment, unsure how much you wanted to reveal. After all, things had barely started between you and Dean. Yet there was something undeniably magnetic about him. “He’s… kind of impossible not to notice. And I don’t mean just because he’s hot—though, that definitely doesn’t hurt,” you said with a slight laugh, feeling your cheeks warm. “But it’s more than that. He’s protective, and he’s smart… and he just gets me, you know? It’s like he’s always there when I need him, without hesitation. It’s… kind of overwhelming.”

Bella smiled knowingly, nodding as she worked on perfecting your nails. “I get it. I can see the way you two look at each other. It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist when he’s near you.”

Steph chuckled. “You’ve got the hots for him, don’t you?”

You sighed dramatically, but deep down, you knew they were right. “I do,” you admitted, rolling your eyes. “But he’s my bodyguard. It’s complicated.”

Bella finished your nails with a flourish, and she leaned back, admiring her handiwork. “You’re allowed to be complicated,” she said softly, her voice warm. “You don’t have to have everything figured out right now. Just… take it one step at a time. And, in the meantime, let’s watch some episodes of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. and forget about the world for a little while.”

The minutes passed by quickly as the hum of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. continued to fill the room, the soft glow of the television providing a cozy atmosphere as you settled deeper into the plush pillows. Bella had finished your nails with the kind of perfection only she could manage, and you couldn’t help but smile at the cheerful colors now adorning your fingers. They were bright, bold, and utterly distracting—just what you needed to take your mind off everything.

Steph, who had been completely absorbed in the show, suddenly glanced at her watch, then got up with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Alright, ladies,” she said with a smirk, “time for the next step of the evening’s relaxation plan.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s next?”

With a dramatic flair, Steph marched over to her suitcase and pulled out a stack of fluffy, soft robes. They were as white as snow and looked incredibly cozy, the kind of fabric that felt like it could wrap you up in a warm hug. “Time to trade those outfits in for something even more comfy,” she said, tossing the robes toward you and Bella. “But first,” she added with a sly grin, “we’ll need to change into these in the bathroom.”

You blinked, unsure of where this was going. “The bathroom?”

“Yep,” she said, already heading toward the door with a mischievous look on her face. “One at a time. You go first.”

Bella laughed and stood up. “Oh, I see what’s going on here,” she said with a wink at you. “Steph’s getting us all into these robes so we can feel like a spa day... and so she can make fun of us when we look ridiculous.”

You sighed, but the offer of comfort and relaxation was too good to resist. Besides, you were in no mood to argue. “Fine, I’ll go,” you muttered, standing up and grabbing the robe from the pile. You could hear Bella snickering as she took her own robe and headed toward the bathroom, clearly enjoying the lightheartedness of the moment.

When you entered the bathroom, you shut the door behind you and slipped the robe over your shoulders. The softness of the fabric immediately made you feel more at ease, and you couldn’t help but smile at the indulgence of it all. For a brief moment, it was like everything else—everything overwhelming and terrifying—was forgotten. You simply allowed yourself to enjoy the comfort of the robe, the soft scent of your body lotion mixing with the fluffy material.

A couple of minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, still adjusting the robe’s belt around your waist. The others were already sitting on the bed, each of them wearing the same white robe, looking relaxed and... well, a little silly, but in the best way possible.

Steph looked up from her phone, raising an eyebrow. “Okay, not bad. You clean up pretty well, President.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Very funny, Steph.”

“Yeah,” Bella chimed in, giving you a teasing smile, “you look like you should be sipping mimosas by the pool somewhere.”

You smirked at her. “I can’t help it if I look good in a robe. Some of us are blessed.”

Steph let out a soft laugh. “Yeah, okay, Miss Universe,” she teased, then immediately grabbed a pint of ice cream from the small cooler beside the bed. “Now that we’re all properly robed, time to enjoy some ice cream. And, of course, time for some serious girl talk.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Girl talk?”

“Oh, you know,” Steph said with a knowing look, taking the first scoop of ice cream. “Like, you and your bodyguard.”

You froze, spoon halfway to your mouth. “What?”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” Steph added, her voice slightly more serious now, though she couldn’t hide the teasing smile. “I saw the way you were looking at him earlier. I think it’s time we have a veryserious discussion about the attraction that’s clearly there.”

You let out a dramatic groan, sinking back into the pillows with a sigh. “Oh my God, not this again. I’m not trying to hook up with Dean.”

Steph’s eyes sparkled. “You don’t have to hook up with him to admit that he’s got you hot under the collar. You’ve barely had him in your sights for a couple of weeks, but I can already tell. You’re into him.”

You shot her a look. “You guys are impossible.”

Bella laughed, nudging you with her elbow. “I don’t know if she’s that into him yet, but I mean, come on. The guy is seriously attractive. Have you seen him without his shirt?”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “Can we please not talk about this? Seriously?”

But Bella was relentless. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we were adults here,” she teased, scooping up some ice cream. “But fine, if you’re gonna be like that, I’ll drop it... for now. Let’s talk about something more fun.”

You were more than happy to change the subject, even if Bella’s antics were making the entire situation way more awkward. “Fine. What else?”

Bella shrugged, not missing a beat. “Well, you know what? I met this guy the other day. You’d like him, actually. His name’s Benny. He’s a... well, he’s a lot of things, but most importantly, he’s got this aura of danger about him. You know the type, right?”

You blinked, surprised by the shift in conversation. “Benny?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice lowering slightly as she grinned. “And he’s so hot. I mean, he’s... rugged. Like, maybe a little rough around the edges. He’s got this bad-boy energy, but it’s not obnoxious. It’s... mysterious, you know?”

You could tell by the sparkle in her eye that she was more than a little taken with him. And, judging by the way she was describing him, it seemed like she was intrigued by the idea of the “dangerous type.” You leaned forward slightly, glancing at her curiously. “So, what’s the deal with him? What’s his story?”

Bella didn’t seem at all phased by the sudden interest. “Oh, he’s got history. Some shady business, for sure. But he’s... not exactly the kind of guy who would ever mess with you, if you catch my drift. He’s just got this... commanding presence. Like, I can’t help but feel like he’s the kind of guy who would step in and take care of things if they got out of hand.”

Steph raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained by Bella’s sudden enthusiasm. “Sounds like your type.”

Bella rolled her eyes. “Shut up, Steph. You’re just jealous because I met him first.”

Steph laughed. “I wouldn’t say jealous. But, damn, it sounds like Benny’s got a few layers to him. So, what’s his deal?”

“His deal is that he’s complicated,” Bella said, taking another scoop of ice cream. “But it’s a good kind of complicated. I think he likes me, but it’s hard to tell. He’s not exactly the type to express his feelings with words. More like actions, if you get what I mean.”

You could see where this was going. “Sounds like trouble.”

“Oh, it is,” Bella agreed without missing a beat. “But, hey, I like trouble. Keeps things interesting.”

Steph shook her head, her amusement clear. “Girl, you’re too much. But I get it. Benny sounds like someone who can handle his own, which is exactly what you want. That’s your jam.”

You sat back, still processing the conversation. It seemed like everyone around you had their own form of chaos and attraction in their lives—whether it was the obvious pull between you and Dean, or Bella’s own flirtations with a mysterious guy named Benny. Maybe you were just getting older, but you couldn’t help but feel a little overwhelmed by it all.

But, as the ice cream melted and the show continued on in the background, you allowed yourself a moment of peace. After everything that had happened, the threats, the danger, and the intensity of your life as President, this—this moment of laughter, of comfort, of friendship—was exactly what you needed.

“Alright,” Steph said, breaking the silence. “Enough about us and our interesting love lives. Let’s focus on you, Madam President. You’re due for a serious pampering session. After all, it’s not every day you almost get assassinated.”

The knock on the door was soft, yet distinct, interrupting the moment of calm you had found with Bella and Steph. You sat up from the pillows, glancing over your shoulder at the door, feeling the peaceful moment shift slightly. Bella, who had been intently watching the television, seemed to notice it too, her eyes narrowing with a grin.

“Who’s at the door?” she asked, her voice full of curiosity, as if she already knew the answer.

“I’ll check,” you said, standing up from the bed and wrapping the robe more securely around yourself. It was a loose, white fluffy robe you had put on after your mini pampering session, still feeling its soft comfort as you crossed the room to the door. Your bare feet made no sound on the soft carpet as you walked over.

You opened the door, not expecting much, but what you saw was enough to stop you for a moment.

Dean stood in front of you, leaning against the doorframe, looking… well, as always, impossibly attractive. His broad shoulders were outlined in a black shirt, which clung to his muscles in all the right ways. His stance was casual, but the way his gaze flickered over your body made your breath catch in your throat.

“Uh…” He looked at you, his expression changing from neutral to one of awkwardness, like he wasn’t quite sure how to react. His eyes slowly moved down to take in the sight of you standing there in nothing but your robe, the fluffy material clinging to your frame just enough to remind him of how intimate the situation felt.

You could feel the heat rush to your cheeks, though you tried to mask it with a casual smile. "Hey, Dean," you greeted, hoping you didn’t sound too flustered. “What’s up?”

Dean shifted on his feet slightly, like he was trying to decide whether or not to step inside or stay outside, the tension palpable between you. "Just checking in," he said, his voice low, almost awkward, as if unsure if he was intruding on something. He looked you over again, his eyes lingering for just a bit longer than usual. "Are you… are you okay?"

You couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze seemed to rove over you, the intensity of it making your heart race. You raised an eyebrow, hoping to keep the situation light. "Yeah, I’m fine," you reassured him, stepping back to let him in, though you couldn’t deny the way your body was reacting to the proximity. “I’m just relaxing a little, taking a break.”

Dean nodded, but he didn’t move any closer. Instead, he stood there, a little stiff, clearly torn between doing his job and maybe wanting to stay a little longer, just to talk or check in. His eyes flickered down to the floor for a second before snapping back up to meet yours. "Good. Just wanted to make sure," he mumbled, clearly not comfortable with the situation, but still trying to be considerate.

Behind you, Bella and Steph were watching the interaction with all the intensity of spectators watching a spicy scene in a movie, their eyes flicking between you and Dean like they were waiting for something to happen. Bella was the first to break the silence, her voice laced with a playful teasing.

“So… looks like someone’s got a visitor,” she said, her tone full of amusement.

You turned your head, realizing what she was hinting at. “Can you not?” you muttered under your breath, a bit embarrassed.

But Bella was relentless. “Oh, don’t act like you’re not enjoying it,” she teased further, her eyes shifting between the two of you. “It’s obvious you two have chemistry.”

You could feel your pulse quicken, the sudden realization that Dean was still standing in your doorway, watching everything unfold. You cleared your throat and quickly turned to Dean, smiling awkwardly. “I… I’m sorry about this,” you said, hoping to change the subject before things got even more uncomfortable. “You know how they are.”

Dean’s lips quirked into a tiny smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “No problem,” he said, his tone still a little strained. But you couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on you, how they flickered over your bare arms, the way your robe was falling just slightly off one shoulder.

“Right.” You nodded, shifting on your feet, unsure of what to do with this sudden surge of tension in the room. It was like everything had shifted, and neither of you quite knew how to handle it.

Bella leaned back against the bed, looking far too entertained. “Yeah, sure. No big deal,” she said, clearly enjoying watching the two of you dance around each other. “Nothing to see here, just two people who obviously want to kiss each other already.”

“Bella!” you hissed, your face burning with embarrassment.

Steph, who had been watching silently, suddenly perked up with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh, this is getting good. You guys are so obvious.” She leaned forward, clearly enjoying every moment of the interaction. “Come on, what’s the harm in admitting it? We all see it. You two are practically giving off sparks.”

You groaned, turning to Dean for support, but the way he was standing—awkwardly stiff, his gaze not quite meeting yours—told you that he was just as flustered as you were. It was then that you realized you had both been giving off a lot more energy than either of you intended. The sexual tension between you had been growing since he started working for you, but now it felt almost unbearable.

Dean scratched the back of his neck, trying to ease the tension with a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well…” He looked at the floor for a second, then back at you. “I should probably… get going.”

You couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of disappointment at his words, though you quickly masked it. “Of course,” you said, your voice light but your heart thumping in your chest. “Thanks for checking in, Dean.”

He nodded, still standing in the doorway, looking like he wasn’t sure how to leave. The silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you both just stood there, the distance between you feeling far more significant than it should have.

Before he could leave, however, Bella’s voice broke the moment. “Oh, come on, don’t leave so soon,” she called out to him with a teasing grin. “Stick around. You’re welcome to join us, right?”

Dean looked at her, his expression momentarily lost for words, and then he glanced back at you, his eyes softening slightly. You caught that look—a look that, if you were being honest with yourself, made your heart flutter just a bit.

“You know,” he began slowly, his voice quieter than before, “I probably should get going. But maybe… I’ll stop by later?”

You smiled, trying to keep the situation light. “Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied, your voice betraying a little more warmth than you intended.

He nodded, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary before he finally turned and left, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

Bella let out a dramatic sigh, making a show of fanning herself. “Okay, that was definitely hot,” she said, leaning back into the pillows with a grin that practically screamed satisfaction.

You dropped your head into your hands. “I’m going to die of embarrassment.”

Steph just grinned, clearly not feeling any sympathy for your plight. “Oh, come on. You two are like the most obvious couple I’ve ever seen.”

“Not a couple,” you muttered, still trying to recover from the awkwardness. “Just… two people who have a lot of unresolved tension.”

“Well, that’s basically the same thing,” Bella said, tossing a pillow at you. “And trust me, honey, it’s not just you two noticing it. Everyone can see it.”

You groaned and buried your face in the pillow, wishing for a moment of peace. “I don’t know what to do about it. He’s my bodyguard… and he’s, like, way out of my league.”

Steph raised an eyebrow, her tone full of sarcasm. “Out of your league? Please. That man is practically begging for you to make the first move. You think he doesn’t notice how you look at him?”

“I’m not the one checking him out,” you protested weakly.

“Girl, you are so checking him out,” Bella teased, as she reached over and grabbed a fresh pint of ice cream. “But no worries, we’ve got your back. We’ll get you two together. Just wait.”

You sighed deeply, wishing for a distraction. “You guys are impossible.”

“Well, what’s the harm in admitting it?” Bella said with a wicked grin. “You’re both hot as hell, and you’re practically walking around with ‘we want each other’ written all over your faces.”

Steph snorted. “It’s too cute. You guys are so obvious.”

The morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows of the presidential residence, casting golden streaks across the hardwood floor of your office. You sat behind your desk, your trusty planner open in front of you as Becky stood to the side, rattling off the day’s itinerary. Her pen tapped against her clipboard, her sharp, efficient tone filling the room.

“All right,” Becky began, flipping a page with practiced ease. “You’ve got a meeting with the Secretary of Energy at nine, then a quick photo op with the ambassador from Sweden at eleven. Lunch is at noon, though I assume you’ll skip eating again.” She gave you a pointed look.

You smirked faintly but didn’t respond.

“After that,” she continued, tapping her pen against the clipboard, “there’s a meeting with the education reform committee, and then—oh, the gardener called in sick. Something about a sprained wrist.”

You paused mid-note, looking up. “The gardener’s off today?”

Becky nodded, her brows knitting together slightly. “Yeah, which means the lawn won’t get mowed, the flowerbeds won’t get watered, and the press will probably have something to say about how the grounds are being ‘neglected.’” Her tone was sarcastic, but her words were pointed. You could already imagine the headlines.

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and running a hand through your hair. The lawn might not have been at the top of your priority list, but it mattered enough to make you want to do something about it. The pristine appearance of the grounds was one of those unspoken expectations that came with your role. “We’ll figure something out,” you murmured, mostly to yourself.

Becky raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Just add ‘landscaping duties’ to your already-packed schedule, why don’t you?” She flipped another page, moving on. “Anyway, after the education meeting—”

The sound of a light knock interrupted her, and you glanced up to see Dean stepping into the room. He moved with that effortless confidence you’d come to associate with him, though there was always an undercurrent of alertness in his stride. His sharp eyes scanned the room briefly before settling on you.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, his voice deep and steady, “but I wanted to check in before the meeting with Energy.”

You smiled faintly, gesturing for him to come in. “You’re not interrupting. Becky was just going over today’s schedule.”

Dean nodded, leaning casually against the doorframe. His presence was as steadying as always, though there was something about the way he watched you—like he was always two steps ahead, ready to act at a moment’s notice. It was reassuring, in a way.

You closed your planner with a soft thud and looked up at him. “Actually, there’s something you might be able to help with.”

He tilted his head slightly, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“The gardener’s off sick,” you explained, leaning forward with your elbows on the desk. “Which means the lawn won’t get mowed, and the flowerbeds won’t get watered.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re worried about the lawn?”

You shrugged, a small laugh escaping you. “Not worried, exactly, but I’d rather avoid giving the press another reason to complain.”

He considered this for a moment, then straightened up. “I can handle it.”

You blinked, taken aback. “You?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged, his casual tone making it sound like no big deal. “I’ve mowed a lawn before, you know. Not exactly rocket science.”

Becky let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re telling me Dean Winchester, ex-hitman turned presidential bodyguard, is going to play gardener?”

Dean shot her a dry look. “I’ve done worse jobs.” Then he turned back to you, his expression softening slightly. “Seriously, I don’t mind. It’s not like I’ve got much else to do when you’re in meetings all day.”

You hesitated, torn between practicality and the sheer absurdity of the image that had just popped into your head—Dean, mowing the presidential lawn in his usual no-nonsense way. It was almost too surreal to imagine.

“I don’t know,” you said slowly, though a small smile was starting to tug at your lips. “It feels a little... beneath your pay grade.”

Dean smirked. “What, you think I’m too good for yard work?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, laughing lightly. “You’re kind of overqualified.”

He leaned against the desk slightly, his grin widening. “Let me guess—you don’t think I can handle it.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

“Good,” he said, straightening up again. “Because I’ll have it done before your lunch meeting. You won’t even notice.”

Becky shook her head, clearly baffled but amused. “This is officially the weirdest thing I’ve seen since I started working here.”

Dean ignored her, his attention still focused on you. “Consider it handled,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Then he turned and left, leaving you sitting there with a mix of amusement and curiosity swirling in your chest.

The hum of the lawnmower floated through the open windows of your office as you glanced up from your desk. Dean had offered to take care of the lawn when you mentioned the gardener was off sick. It was a kind gesture, and you’d laughed softly at the mental image of your ruggedly handsome bodyguard mowing the pristine presidential lawn.

Now, though, curiosity got the better of you. With a quiet sigh, you set your pen down and stepped toward the window. The curtains fluttered in the breeze, and as you pulled them back, your breath caught.

There he was, Dean Winchester, pushing the lawnmower with ease, his strong arms flexing with each step. His dark t-shirt clung to his shoulders and back, soaked with a light sheen of sweat from the sun beating down on him. The way he moved was hypnotic, the grace of his steps belying the fact that he was wielding a piece of heavy machinery.

You told yourself it was simple admiration for his work ethic. That you were just impressed by how effortlessly he took on any task. But when he stopped the mower, pulled the hem of his shirt over his head, and tossed it onto a nearby chair before grabbing the garden hose, your thoughts betrayed you.

Dean stood there in the sunlight, shirtless, droplets of sweat glistening on his chest and abs as he twisted the nozzle of the hose. You couldn’t stop staring. His muscles rippled as he adjusted the water pressure, the casual, unselfconscious way he moved making it impossible to look away. His jeans hung low on his hips, a dusting of grass clippings clinging to his legs, and you swore you could hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“Enjoying the show?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at Bella’s voice. Turning quickly, you saw her and Steph standing in the doorway, matching mischievous grins on their faces. Bella held up a pair of binoculars and wiggled them teasingly.

“Oh my God,” you groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous?” Steph asked, crossing her arms as she sidled up to the window. “Ridiculously right, you mean. That man is straight out of a Wattpad story, and you know it.”

You tried to play it cool, stepping back from the window and giving them both a pointed look. “He’s just mowing the lawn.”

Bella snorted. “And I suppose he’s shirtless for practical reasons?”

“He’s watering the garden now,” Steph added, peeking through the binoculars. “And damn, is it getting steamy out there.”

You tried to hold your ground, but their playful commentary was impossible to ignore. Bella nudged your shoulder with the binoculars. “Come on, admit it. You were checking him out.”

“I was not,” you lied, crossing your arms defensively.

Steph gave you a look. “Uh-huh. Sure. Look, we get it. He’s a literal walking thirst trap. If I had a bodyguard like that, I’d be weak in the knees every time he said ‘good morning.’”

“I don’t—” You started, but Bella cut you off with a knowing smirk.

“Relax,” she said, handing you the binoculars. “We’re just saying what you’re too proud to admit. Now, go on, have a look. We won’t judge.”

Against your better judgment, you took the binoculars. Just for a second, you told yourself. Just long enough to prove them wrong.

When you raised them to your eyes, the detail was… unfair. Dean had switched to watering the flowerbeds, standing with one hand on his hip as the other directed the stream of water over the delicate blooms. His expression was relaxed, almost thoughtful, as if he were contemplating something far deeper than the task at hand. The sunlight caught the droplets of water spraying into the air, and for a brief moment, it looked like he was standing in a golden mist.

“Wow,” Steph murmured from beside you. “Even through binoculars, that man is fine.”

Bella leaned in, her grin widening. “See? Wattpad story.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you, lowering the binoculars and shaking your head. “You two are impossible.”

“Oh, we’re impossible?” Bella teased. “You’re the one ogling your bodyguard like it’s a scene from Magic Mike: Presidential Edition.”

Steph clapped her hands together. “Oh, that’s good. I’d buy tickets to that movie.”

You groaned again, but this time it was more amused than exasperated. Bella and Steph had a way of making even the most mortifying situations feel lighthearted, and despite their relentless teasing, you couldn’t deny that they had a point. Dean was… distracting, to say the least.

“Okay, fine,” you admitted, setting the binoculars on your desk. “Maybe I looked. A little.”

Bella and Steph exchanged triumphant high-fives.

“But that doesn’t mean anything,” you added quickly. “He’s my bodyguard, not—”

“Not your soulmate? Your future husband? The leading man in your personal rom-com?” Steph finished for you, raising an eyebrow.

Bella laughed. “You’re just in denial. It’s fine, we’ll be here when you’re ready to admit it.”

Before you could respond, a knock at the door drew your attention. All three of you froze, and for a second, you feared that somehow, impossibly, Dean had heard everything.

“Come in,” you called, trying to sound casual.

The door opened, and there he was, standing in the doorway, still shirtless and holding the coiled garden hose in one hand. His eyes scanned the room, landing on you for a moment before flicking to Bella and Steph.

“Just checking in,” he said, his voice low and slightly rough. “Everything okay?”

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. “Yeah. All good.”

His gaze lingered on you for a beat longer, and you swore his eyes dipped briefly to the curve of your collarbone, exposed by the loose neckline of your blouse. Your skin felt warm under his scrutiny, and you fought the urge to fidget.

“Cool,” he said after a moment, his lips twitching in a faint smirk. “Let me know if you need anything.”

As he turned to leave, Bella and Steph watched him go with unabashed interest. When the door clicked shut behind him, Bella let out a low whistle.

“That man,” she said, “is going to be the death of you.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Tell me about it.”

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[ninadove]

Writing year in review

I was tagged by the lovely @bittersweetresilience to share some snippets from my 2024 works! Some were written over a long period of time, so I have sorted them by posting date. I’ve also tried not to choose a Miraculous fic when possible, for the sake of diversity, but what can I say? I love my kids so much. ❤️💜💚

JANUARY

Felix always had something to say.

His brain was perpetually buzzing with questions, ignited at the discovery of every puzzle he could not solve; he burnt to understand the secret mechanisms that set the world in motion, to solve the complex equation of the human race.

“Why is the sky blue?”

“Why did Romeo not check Juliet’s pulse?”

“Why is Mum wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer?”

The answers were rarely satisfying, if spoken at all.

— Un bouquet d'œillets blancs {Miraculous 🦚}

FEBRUARY

“You can keep your princess. I don’t want her.”

Adrien let out a sigh of relief, surprisingly big for his tiny body.

“Are you sure?” He was pushing his luck now, but that was how he was: always ready to give the shirt off his back, and the tiara off his head. “You always end up stuck with the villains.”

Félix sunk into amethyst cushions, patting the mattress with a tired smile. Witches and krakens were a necessary evil: someone needed to breathe life into the plot devices, to snuff out the lights of their improvised theater, so his cousin could get a chance to shine on his own terms.

Adrien wormed his way back to their little cocoon, resting his head on his shoulder.

“I don’t want to be the hero.” Félix snuggled close, flipping to the first page. “Monsters are always so much more interesting.”

— Brave, Truthful, and Unselfish {Miraculous 🦚}

MARCH

Humans were fascinating creatures, always inventing rules to the most trivial things; the Order, in particular, thrived on prayer and processions. Duusu studied the traditions intently, munching on momos and breathing in incense: if they did well enough, if they filled themselves with everything that mattered to their guardians, maybe they would want to be friends.

Unlike Kwamis, humans grew up, grew old, and eventually faded away. Their time on Earth was limited — too scarce to be invested in the tiny creature.

But this holder was different. This holder was a child.

— Birds of a Feather {Miraculous 🦚}

APRIL

Eurylochus is thirteen, and the hull rears below his feet.

The wind is gracious, sated with salt and the promise of rain; breams graze the precarious hull, silver fins slicing through solid turquoise. It does not stop the damned ruin from bouncing up and down, nor Polites from teetering over the gunwale; Eurylochus yanks him by his chiton, saving him from the depths of careless contemplation.

“This is wonderful, Ody!” His smile, bright as always, ripples over the patient wavelets. “How did you even get this boat?”

“I have my ways.” Odysseus is younger by a full year, and their uncontested captain: he leans against the prow, arms crossed in self-satisfaction. “I’m going to be king someday. If there’s something — anything — I want, people give it to me.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. Aren’t you glad you’re my best friend?”

Polites nods, and the soft glow morphs into a beam; he hunches once more, caressing the immensity of the ocean.

He is kind, kinder than either of them. Wickedness, to him, is a crab lurking in the sludge: he does not fear it, for he does not see it.

Eurylochus never enquires about the twists and turns of his captain’s mind. He knows better than to probe the abyss.

— When does a ripple become a tidal wave? {EPIC 🌊}

MAY

“It’s so fragile.”

Adrien held the first bean as if it were a heart, as if it were pulsing against his palm: the day was young, the garden thawed at last, and lemonade waited underneath the porch.

The world kept on spinning, not dead, not crumbling between his claws.

“Isn’t it?” Felix slid his gloves off, satisfied with his work: perfectly circular dents dotted the forest-scented soil, lined up for inspection like a well-trained platoon. “One thing about Steinbeck is that he had the subtlety of a truck running over a cricket.”

“I thought you liked the guy.”

“I do. He had the intelligence to recognise that sometimes, evidence is the most powerful metaphor of all.”

The truth of these words warmed them down to their bones: softly, delicately, they tucked their treasure into the soft bedding.

“I’m not fixed yet,” Adrien confessed, green eyes seeking green eyes. “I don’t know if I ever will be.”

— Keep me from the cages {Miraculous 🦚}

JUNE

“Have you eaten at all today?”

Of course he had, and Ragueneau knew it all too well; Le Bret was not one to let hunger devour him, to squeeze suffering and verses out of a weakened stomach. The baker fed him either way, tartelettes amandines and meatloaves and a constellation of croissants; twice as much as needed, whisked and sprinkled with twice the love.

“You did not edit the punctuation, did you?” Always with the questions, with the nervous protectiveness of a genuine friend. “He would hate that. He would hate that so much.”

“Of course not. I am merely trying to decipher this mess.” After Arras, Cyrano’s handwriting had become hurried and tight, as if he feared a shortage of paper and time; sweat and ink stained the corners of his manuscripts, tears and blood in their own right. “I don’t trust publishers to transcribe it correctly.”

“You found someone, then?” Ragueneau’s voice lifted toward the ribbed vault; below his cassock, the canon’s shoulders sank. “Oh, the world will love him so! How could it not, when it knows him like we do?”

Le Bret smiled, a pathetic half-moon of dulled teeth, and bit into a chausson-aux-pommes.

— Ou bien dans les étoiles {Cyrano de Bergerac 🪶}

JULY

“You know you were her favourite, right?”

Shadows stretch against the cold marble: a cloud, an eclipse perhaps. Never have they been more aware of their own pallor — of the ugly things lurking on the other side.

“You’re the rebel,” they whisper, the words cold against their teeth. “You’re the actor and the secret-keeper. Hell, you even got the Peacock Miraculous… You’re like her, in a way I can never be.”

“Adrien.” Felix retraces his steps, looking for something lost. “Your mother adored you.”

“She did.” Finally, mercifully, they let their eyelids fall. “She adored me, and she loved you.”

— Satellite {Miraculous 🦚}

AUGUST

Adrien traps their hands between their knees, considering. They used to shed these thoughts like they shed their mask, but they aren’t sure they want to anymore: it’s selfish, of course, but Adrien hasn’t been selfish enough in their short life, and the thundering between their ribs drives them away, drives them forward, drives them over —

“Adrien.” Something lands on their shoulder, nestling in the crook of their neck. “Adrien. Adrien.”

“Hey.” There’s something desperate in the syllables, in the arms that pull him back, and they can’t help but lean into the touch. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’m sneaky like that.” A chuckle dies on Felix’s lips; he presses against their back, heartbeat bouncing between the two of them. “Unlike you… your late-night brooding woke me up.”

“Don’t tell me you wear the brooch to bed?” Their cousin’s grip tightens, and that tells them all they need to know. “I’m sorry. They’re just feelings, I wasn’t actually going to do anything about them...”

“You should have come to me,” Felix reprimands, gently. “But it’s alright. We can talk now.”

— With a touch of my hand (I'll turn your life to gold) {Miraculous 🦚}

SEPTEMBER

“How did you…?”

“Suppose the World Times ran this story,” Emmy cut, leaning dangerously close. “Hawks’ career would be over before dinner, to say nothing of the legal jumble that would follow.”

“And you’d do that because…?”

“I’ve never been much of a Tory,” she shrugged. “Besides, that’s quite the token of goodwill, don’t you think?”

“This is priceless.” His breath was sharp, a puncture to his lungs. “I only have one question.”

“Ask away,” Emmy glowed, inviting. “I have all the answers.”

Clive let go of the envelope, spilling its entrails over the tiles.

“Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

— What do you know about love? {Professor Layton 🎩}

OCTOBER

Felix tastes of caramel, and the night has only just begun.

Not that they’ll make it out the door, she manages to think, drunk on sugar and cinnamon and a fire she knows all too well; it flows through her veins as she dips him onto the mattress, pools in her stomach as she straddles his hips.

What a beautiful sight: Felix’s coat like coppery leaves, like autumn sneaking in through the window. The folds of her dress like dark wings around him. So unmistakably them in spite of their costumes, to the point she can spot the stubborn gold of his locks piercing through the foggy dye.

“My holiest love,” Kagami whispers, fiddling with his tie. “My dear, dear husband.”

This, too, is only half-pretend: they will be married in December, the mere officialisation of what has already been sealed with other rings and other vows. Husband, she thinks again as the fabric falls from his throat, husband, she breathes as she leans down, leans closer.

— And we will stumble through heaven {Miraculous 🦚}

NOVEMBER

He walks in, and you know instantly: it’s in the myosotis of his eyes, in the calluses of his hands. Light pours through the dirty panes like chalk on a blackboard, like stained glass trapped behind scaffoldings, and it’s a sweet pilgrimage that takes you to his desk.

“They say your father makes hats?”

It sounds terribly conceited, yet you couldn’t be more genuine. You recognise and share the damage of the pen, that terrible splint keeping your idle fingers upright; but there’s something else in his, in the pulse that drums against his wrist. Just below the surface, like carps tickling the open sky.

The boy you’ll die for peels away from his thoughts, and smiles.

— Alma de araña {La Sombra del Viento 📚}

DECEMBER

“I don’t need anything from anyone.”

“You need so, so many things.” The stranger tears away — a page out of a notebook, a limb ripped off his body. “Companionship, first and foremost.”

“I’ve never even met you before.”

“And yet, I understand you. How many people can say that?” There’s a strange little note, something dropped in the sink. “How many people want to?”

“Sounds to me like you’re the lonely one.”

“Maybe I am.” They pause there, leaning against the counter. “That’s the nature of a patron of the arts, isn’t it? Pouring money into a void that never closes.”

“You think I’m an artist?”

“I think you once were.” The tap tilts open, soothing, hypnotising. “I think you could be.”

— We’ll jump at the same time {Professor Layton 🎩}

Overall, 2024 was a great year for my creative drive! I made sure I did something writing-related every day, even if it was just the actual action of clicking “post” on a fic. A huge thank you to my eternal beta-reader @dragongutsixofficial, the Anarchist Gang and everyone who has been leaving kind words or kudos on AO3 (you know who you are)! 💚💜❤️

Tagging @faiirygrahamdevanily, @bright-thehawksflight, @pegasusdrawnchariots, @beezonia, @adastra-rising, @nayvwriter, @sillyangstfic, @trishacollins, @alexandriaellisart, @rubytactician and @dragongutsixofficial to show us their creations (be they writing, art, GIFs, origami or something else)! May 2025 be gentle to you! ❤️✨

[fruitcoops]

Thunder Road

Prompts E2: "Oh, Oops!" and A4: "Snowstorm" with genderbent PWHL Cubs for @oknutzy-week-2024's Day 3 :) Characters belong to @lumosinlove! Let's go lesbians let's go!

Light chatter passed back and forth across the lounge. Every once in a while, when someone was brave enough to cross the canyon with a smile and an introduction, the middle strengthened for as long as it took to make polite small talk before falling quiet again.

It was…tricky. Minnesota fought hard. Not dirty—it would almost be better if they did, then maybe the New York team wouldn’t still be smarting with their first clean loss of the season—but with teeth and claws undoubtedly out. Their captain had been brutal on the ice, polite and reserved off it; with Potter and Lupin at the wings, their line had consistently put New York through their paces.

Safe to say, Leo wasn’t looking forward to reviewing tape the next morning.

It wasn’t all bad, though. The bliss of professional hockey had yet to dim; Leo wasn’t sure it ever would. Some days, she still woke up thinking it was all a dream. That instead of packing her practice bag and greeting her new roommate, she’d spend the day scrolling LinkedIn’s barista section and signing up for local women’s rec leagues on the side.

Some days, all she could do was take her beautiful, beautiful sea-green jersey out and lay it on the bed beside her to remind herself it was real. Trace her name in bold white letters lining the back. Run her hands over her number, the same since she first put on a blocker and felt something inside her sing.

Representing New York in goal for the inaugural season of the Professional Women’s Hockey League, we are proud to select Leo Knut…

Leo let out a shaky breath and stood.

Hi, you must be Leo. I’m Finn, Finn O’Hara. C’mon in, your room’s just down the hall.

Black and Lupin were on the opposite side of the room. Lupin’s faded red Wisconsin hoodie was pulled down over her hands while she lounged sideways on one of the many armchairs. Black looked as imposing as ever even in a simple Minnesota t-shirt, seated on the floor by the couch Potter claimed.

Hey, Knutty. Couldn’t sleep? Me neither. This game’s gonna be off the rails. Did you know I went to college with Tremblay? She’s killer. I brought cocoa, if you want some. Helps me calm down.

Finn was far away, chatting happily with one of Minnesota’s defensemen. Leo sort of wished she had gone with Finn in the first place, just so she wouldn’t be left to her own devices. These people were strangers to her in everything but newsprint.

Carefully, she balanced two lemonades in one hand and two cookies in the other. She could do this. She could be brave.

“H—”

Thunder rattled the windows of the lounge. The lights flickered—a wave of surprise rolled through the room, and Logan Tremblay jumped hard enough Leo nearly fumbled the lemonade right onto herself.

“Oh, oops!”

Green eyes stuck her in place. “Knut.”

Tremblay’s voice was smoother than it sounded in her interviews. Two thick braids crowned her head and ran down just past her shoulders.

Leo took a deep breath, and smiled. “Call me Leo.”

“Leo.” Softer, now, too. She was careful with Leo’s name. Lay-oh.

“Cookie?”

“Quoi?”

Leo held out her peace offering, placing her thumb over one of the cookies to reserve it for herself. The storm had hit them dead-on before they had been released to the bus and she had seen firsthand how hard Logan played. She couldn’t be the only one starving.

“Oh.” Tremblay sounded surprised. The side of her mouth pulled in a quick smile as she took the cookie from Leo’s palm, and widened when Leo nudged her other hand with the lemonade. “Merci, that’s very kind of you.”

“They said they’d have sandwiches soon, but I’m kind of dying here.”

Tremblay huffed a laugh. It was nearly silent, but honest. No wonder she and Finn had been friends. “Me, too. Something tells me DoorDash isn’t working top speed tonight.”

“Nah, probably not,” Leo agreed, grinning into her flimsy plastic cup. The room seemed easier now; the vise around her chest, looser.

“I’m Logan, by the way.” Tremblay shoved the last of her cookie into her mouth and dusted her hand off on her sweatpants.

“Nice to meet you.”

Her hand was coarse against Leo’s, callused and warm. Smaller than Leo’s own, but broad like the rest of her. Logan licked a few loose crumbs from the pad of her thumb and had just opened her mouth to speak when lightning flashed outside—a blur of red and gray barreled between them.

“Thirty-five minutes, and I don’t even get a hello?” Finn scolded through a blinding, brilliant smile. Her cheeks were flushed, though Leo hadn’t seen any alcohol about. She gave one of Logan’s braids a jaunty yank. “You dick.”

“I was busy,” Logan insisted without an ounce of real heat.

“Sulking, maybe.” Finn gave her an unreadable look, something playful and yet oddly intimate. Leo felt a little like she was intruding until Finn turned to her and beamed. “I see you’ve met my fabulous roommate.”

Logan blinked. “Oh?”

“You’re much better than she was,” Finn informed Leo in a stage-whisper. “No towels on the floor, a clean kitchen—oh, yeah, Tremzy, she knows how to cook.”

“I can cook,” Logan scoffed.

“That’s a lie and we both know it.” Finn slung an arm around her shoulders to tug the other braid. Logan pulled a face, but made no attempt to move. The arm stayed when Finn looked back up at Leo. “What was it you made the other day, Le? The beans and rice thing?”

“Jambalaya.” Her mother’s recipe, a fact Finn had loved. She liked it when Leo made food from home, even when the most mild spice level made her whole face turn red.

“It was so good. She shared some, I was so lucky.”

Leo felt her face heat and ducked her head. Finn was so free with compliments that it was starting to become a problem. She had told herself she’d be careful. This opportunity was too precious to risk—this team, this city, this game. There was already talk of expanding the league. Leo needed her contract to be first on the list with no complications holding her back.

That meant not noticing the fluff of auburn bedhead in the morning or sleepy brown eyes in the evening. It meant shrugging off compliments with placid smiles, no matter how much Finn’s earnest appreciation made her melt. Neither of them were guaranteed a spot in New York next year. One perfect season of one perfect roommate would be more than enough.

“Right, Le?”

“Hmm?” Leo felt her heart stutter. “Sorry, what?”

“You get big storms back home,” Finn repeated, unfazed.

“Oh, yeah, sure. Hurricanes, all that.” She winced internally and soothed the burn of awkwardness with the last swig of her drink.

“I don’t like them,” Logan said, waving a hand. One side of her nose wrinkled with displeasure. Leo wished she had left herself more lemonade. “The rain, fine, but the rest of it…blegh.”

“You should come back with us tonight,” Finn said suddenly.

“Quoi?”

“What?” Leo asked at the same time.

Finn was already nodding. “No, yeah, it’s perfect. The roads aren’t good, but we can take the subway back to Knutty and I’s place. We’ll drop you off at the hotel tomorrow morning.”

Logan shifted, the plastic cup crinkling in her hand. “I don’t know…”

“It’s late, Lo.” The nickname gave Leo pause. She saw Logan go still, too. Finn’s eyes had softened. “Come back with us. We’ll heat up some leftovers and fuckin’, I don’t know, watch a movie. It’ll be good to catch up.”

Logan’s gaze darted around the room, where the teams had slowly begun mingling. Lupin was telling some story about a roadie and a snowstorm and a cooler full of beer and sandwiches, a bit shy under half the room’s attention. Even Black seemed to be having a nice time listening to her.

“D’accord,” Logan said quietly. She gave another one of her small smiles to Finn and then, inexplicably, to Leo. “Alright, that sounds good. I’m hungry. I can sleep on your couch, or something.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Leo assured her.

--

Logan didn’t sleep on the couch.

When Leo woke the next morning, her first thought was not of problems or compliments or contracts. It was Logan’s loose, braid-crimped hair falling over the opposite end of the couch and the fit of a Mardi Gras 2011 shirt across her shoulders as makeshift pajamas. It was Finn playing music at the lowest setting and the soft spitting of the coffeepot. She would be wearing her glasses and the cotton shorts Leo just couldn’t handle, the ones she had thrown on last night while Leo cued the movie, red hair pulled back into a small ponytail at her nape.

Logan’s ankles were warm on her own. The DVD case was still open on the table in front of them. Leo couldn’t recall falling asleep. But this—this seemed as real as plastic lettering that shone beneath her awed fingertips.

Leo closed her eyes and let drowsiness pull her under. She had no fear of waking again to an empty dream.

[louisupdates]

Louis Tomlinson expands the 28 clothing universe with a football-inspired collection

The Doncaster-born singer, Louis Tomlinson, continues to expand his horizons beyond music with a sophisticated football-inspired collection.

POR: ALEJANDRO CARRILLO JULY 29, 2024

Louis Tomlinson’s clothing brand, 28 Clothing, presents a new collection under the theme “Home and Away”, featuring a captivating color palette that includes enchanting lavender hues. The brand name is a tribute to Louis’ favorite number, 28, which he also has tattooed on his hand.

Furthermore, it nods to his hometown, Doncaster, by including a flower inspired by the White Rose of York in the logo, a symbol widely used in the region, including Louis’ beloved Doncaster.

The brand stands out for its production of unisex clothing, demonstrating the versatility of each piece. The new collection includes turtlenecks, sweaters, football shirts, sweatpants, and socks.

Third round of success

This is the brand’s third collection, and like the previous ones, it is expected to sell out quickly. In fact, the Lavender Ecru sweater is already sold out. The previous collection, launched in December 2023, was also a resounding success.

The brand’s off-pitch style guide continues to evolve, featuring half-zip jerseys with digitized graphics and the characteristic “OFFICIAL PROGRAMME” inscription. Elegant short coats and checkered sportswear sets inspired by referees effortlessly transition from city to pitch, while turtlenecks with the number “28” arrive in light blue tones.

Color-blocked t-shirts, paneled skirts, and nylon pants complete the range, anticipating the next collection with floral embroidered MA1 bomber jackets arriving later this year.

Prices range from £15 to £120.

About 28

Louis Tomlinson, the former One Direction member, took a big step into the fashion world with the launch of his own clothing brand, 28. This name is not a random choice but a tribute to his squad number at Doncaster Rovers, his local football team since childhood.

Louis’ passion for football is evident in every piece of the 28 collection. The first line, inspired by vintage style, evokes the nostalgia of 70s and 80s football matches. Checkered tracksuits, t-shirts with the text “Official Programme”, and lightweight hooded sweatshirts are some of the garments that make up this summer collection.

28 is not just a clothing brand but a way to connect with a community. Louis seeks to create a space where football and fashion lovers can feel identified. The brand reflects his own personality, combining his casual and relaxed style with a touch of sophistication.

28 is a brand that represents Louis Tomlinson’s passion for football and fashion. With a design inspired by vintage style and a message of community, 28 has become one of the most popular clothing brands of the moment.

We hope you enjoyed this article about 28, If you did, please share it with others. You might also be interested in reading our article about Diesel, or browsing other reviews in our Luster English section.

[risunsky]

2023 review

So, was it a good year ?

I think so, I've enjoyed challenging myself, I've tried Beksinski for a second time, Klimt twice, I've done a crossover hellraiser which I'm quite happy with… I made cement for the first time and it was great!

At the 2022 review I said I wanted to do more horror, so I went for gore with all my emaciated skeletons and I'm very happy with that.

September is my favorite of all.

Outside of my fanart world, my biggest freelance achievement has been completing a big comic commission on time and now that the book is out and I've had good feedback from both commissioners and readers I'm relieved and quite proud. It's been a stressful time so it's nice to see that it hasn't all been for nothing. So, even though I'll never stop considering myself as a learner and experimenting with new things, I think that this year I've finally managed to settle on a style, or a range of styles, that I like and that I think I'll stick with for a long time. I've been drawing for a very long time but this is the first year I've felt so strongly that I've found MY style. As for my universe, it seems that somewhere in the horror area of dark fantasy it is my home.

What's planned for 2024?

In terms of priorities, the gift commissions, yeah.... I'm soooo late. I've finished one, but two are still on hold, and have been for at least a year now. I'm terribly sorry about that, because I haven't been overwhelmed like that for a long time, and I intend to sort it out as soon as possible.

It should also be the year I finish the Goya remake. Ideally, I'd like to finish in February because that's my birthday month, or March because that's the anniversary of my discovery of Ghost.

For the rest, don't take it as a promise, because I tend to let myself be carried along by my desires and they are constantly changing. For example, I was planning great things with Nunussy but the poor thing was left on the side of the road. My interest in it just died. it seems that shipping characters and writing an alternative universe for them is not my thing. I have at least 3 shorts comics ideas, more or less ghost related but always mixed with something else. I really really want to work on it but it's a lot of work and this year I need money, like more than usual so I don't know... I also want to do Bloodborne fanart.

The fails

I haven't kept to my plan to draw the other characters in the Ghost lore, oopsy. I still haven't had the time to open any commissions, but last year was really special, working on a big contract that kept me busy for months and that was something new, it was stressful enough. 2024 should be different. I had to show a bit more of my traditional technique, let's say I do it with the Goya project, it's a semi-failure.

Not really a failure: I still haven't come up with a design for an official t-shirt. I think that's because I'm more of an illustrator than a designer and for a good design I need to find a special thing. It's not a big deal for me, just, if it happens it's cool, if not, well, not the end of the world.

To finish

I'd like to thank all those who follow me and who like and share my drawings, including those who remain silent in the shadows - I'm myself a lurker so I understand! Of course, a huge thank you to those who have supported me on ko-fi, it's the first time I've tried this system and I'm happy to have had some support pretty quickly!

my apologies if there are any English mistakes in this text, which is still too long

Have a great festive season!

[dribs-and-drabbles]

An alternative review of GMMTV Live 2024 part 2

A list of the shared items of clothing that appeared in the trailers, ranked according to the amount I squealed when I spotted it.

6. getricheasy sports shirt

The first of four from Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist, this had its first appearance in Only Friends and was used in the promotional material for The Outing but I didn't spot it in the show, so I'm happy to see it again. Who knows if it will be used in the actual show...that goes for any of these items incidentally.

5. Blue with yellow detail knitted vest

I've had a screenshot of this vest worn by Thor since I saw it as Wednesday Club aired. I swear I've seen it somewhere else before but can't remember. But hence why it immediately jumped out to me in Perfect 10 Liners.

4. Green sports jacket

On to the second of the four from Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist, and oh to be Poon and be able to wear the jacket that our King and Queen have worn -> first by Namtan in UMG and then Mix in his glorious cameo at the end of Only Friends. I predict we'll see this again a few more times.

3. Blue with brown edging shirt

I was happy to see this one, another in Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist, because I had kept it in my mind since seeing it in Only Friends - as another potential that might get worn again. It's subtle yet quite distinct...and very much in a similar vibe as many other shirts worn by Force (and shared with Sea, Ngern, and New amongst others).

2. Red, blue, and green striped t-shirt

I'm impressed with my brain for spotting this one, the last from Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist, because at first it just felt familiar, and I immediately thought of UMG but I thought it might just be because it's similar to a few stripy colour shirts that Nanon wore. But I had a look through my screenshots of the series and eventually found it all the way at the end...

1. Ink's mustard knitted vest!

This one I could not believe. Never in my wildest dreams did I think we would see this iconic vest from Bad Buddy again. But here we are, on Mix no less in Ossan's Love. It's not something you'd expect to see on Mix...but then again I thought the costuming of the trailer looked a lot more 'quirky' than usual and very much fitting the kooky/slapstick vibe of the series. But honestly, this made my day.

[eddieredmayneargentinablog]

"Eddie Redmayne: ‘I won a prize for worst performance of the year’

The Oscar-winning star of ‘The Theory of Everything’, ‘Fantastic Beasts’ and (gulp) ‘The Danish Girl’ is playing a hitman-for-hire in his new TV adaptation of ‘The Day of the Jackal’. He speaks to Adam White about famous friends, weathering backlash, and why the acting industry is ‘deeply unhealthy’

Source: Independent, Saturday 02 November 2024.

Eddie Redmayne said (excerpts):

“Often something you’ve done is just a part of a much bigger discussion, and you try to make sense of it with the understanding and comprehension of any human being.”

"You answer, you trip over, you get quoted, get misquoted, It’s all par for the course. But the way I explain it to myself is I’m just a f***ing actor. I wasn’t bred to be a politician, or a great speaker, or a particularly articulate advocate. I will, of course, sputter my way through [advocacy] for the things that I care about... but I’m just an actor.”

“There have been many years when I’d watch The White Lotus and go, ‘Why do I never get those jobs and hang out on beautiful beaches?’,” Redmayne laughs. “So I wouldn’t want to say that was the reason for taking the job, but it was pretty high up there. I’ve spent years playing Elizabethans and Victorians, or people in the 1920s or 30s. This was the first contemporary thing I think I’ve done in years. And it was nice to be able to just whip on a pair of trousers and a shirt every day, versus lots of 26-piece tweed suits.”

"At the audition, I put on my best ‘space emperor with mummy issues’ voice, and that was what came out – it was definitely a big swing".

"There was a moment in the Jupiter Ascending script that described the character’s voice. It said that his throat had been ‘gnarled out’, or something like that. So at the audition I put on my best ‘space emperor with mummy issues’ voice, and that was what came out.” The Wachowskis let him keep it for filming. “I had the most wonderful time making that film, but it was definitely a big swing. I do hear that there are people who are into [my performance], which is nice. Though I’m also conscious I have a prize somewhere for giving the worst performance of the year.” He chuckles. (It was Worst Supporting Actor at the 2016 Golden Raspberry Awards, if you’re curious.)

Does he read his own reviews? “Oh, yeah, absolutely,” he replies, without hesitation. He only finds it difficult to read them if he’s in a play, where they can’t help but impact what he’s doing night after night. “TV and film, though, often it’s so long since you did the thing that there’s a level of detachment from it. But the interesting thing about them is that I’d say most actors are harsher critics of themselves than any critic can be. It’s rare that I’m sitting reading a bad review of one of my performances, going, ‘No! They got it wrong!’ I typically sit there going, ‘Oh, yeah, I saw that too.’”

"I’m certainly more critical of my own work than most critics, I would say. So the reason I do this job is to aspire to those glimmers of something that momentarily feels real. “It sounds f***ing pretentious, but there are those moments, and sometimes they last for under a second, where you’re completely free, and you’re playing against someone, and everything is alive, and momentarily you go somewhere else.”

As for what’s next, Redmayne is unsure. Fantastic Beasts is “over, as far as I’m concerned”, so his diary is currently open. But he’s excited for the future. “I love variety, and I love pushing myself, and I hope to continue doing that,” he says. “I’ll always take a big swing, and...”

Full interview here:

[astoundingbeyondbelief]

Kaiju Week in Review (March 3-9, 2024)

Shin Ultraman took an eternity to reach home video, but Godzilla Minus One will proceed as a more reasonable pace (by Japanese standards). Toho will release roughly one billion different editions on May 1, with Amazon- and Godzilla Store-exclusive physical bonuses both on offer. Godzilla Minus One/Minus Color is included with some of the pricier versions, or you can buy it as a standalone Blu-ray or DVD.

The black-and-white version of Shin Godzilla, SHIN GODZILLA:ORTHOchromatic, also hits Japanese home video on May 1. Like Minus Color, no 4K edition, just Blu-ray and DVD. A handful of new bonus features about ORTHOchromatic are included.

As is standard for Toho, none of these releases will be English-friendly. But given the films' popularity (and the lack of any legal way to watch Minus One since it left theaters), expect bootlegs to circulate at light speed.

Unsurprisingly, Godzilla Minus One cleaned up at the Japanese Academy Awards, with eight victories out of eleven nominations: Picture of the Year, Best Supporting Actress, Best Cinematography, Best Screenplay, Best Editing, Best Sound, Best Art Direction, and Best Lighting. That's one more than Shin Godzilla, and pretty much guarantees that the Toho Godzilla series will keep the prestige pictures coming. Strange times!

We'll see if Minus One can also capture Best Visual Effects at the American Academy Awards tonight. The Creator remains its biggest competition. The Gareth Edwards film is better-positioned by the usual metrics, with a second nomination for Best Sound and five wins at the Visual Effects Society Awards, but the enthusiasm gap for the films themselves may prove decisive. I'll be doing a much lengthier analysis during Wikizilla's Oscar stream tonight, which will start at about 6:00 PM ET, an hour before the ceremony begins.

Godzilla x Kong: The New Empire tickets may not be on sale yet, but Cinemark theaters have rolled out the above merch (much more efficiently than Target and Walmart have rolled out the toyline, if my local theater's any indication). I have a suspicion those plushies will be worth a mint a few years from now, small as they are; don't know about the other stuff. I bought the larger popcorn tin when I saw Dune: Part Two on Thursday. The promo image is deceptive, as the green area is transparent plastic and the Titan image is on the opposite wall of the tin, so that popcorn's either defying gravity or being held up by a hidden insert. There are Kong and Skar King variants as well, the latter revealing his height (318 feet). Poor Shimo; being the "secret" villain really narrows the amount of merch you get.

The other interesting GxK news this week (apart from the endless TV spot variants, which I'm not even trying to keep track of) is a collaboration with the American Red Cross, of all institutions. Donate blood, platelets, or AB Elite plasma from March 25 to April 7, get a free T-shirt. And for completion's sake, I'll mention the Roblox and Call of Duty cross-promos too.

Chibi Godzilla Raids Again, an unexpected delight last year, is getting a second season starting April 3. The official site revealed that Minilla is joining the cast, while those silhouettes to his right look like Titanosaurus (unjustly neglected in recent years), Gigan, and Gabara. Expect to follow the first season in being uploaded to the GODZILLA OFFICIAL by TOHO YouTube channel with English subtitles.

Here's another chance to watch Tsuburaya and Toei Animation's Kaiju Decode short, originally released in 2021. (It goes away at the end of the month, because every Japanese studio is apparently hellbent on making short films ephemeral, so download it now.) It's the basis for a recent mixed reality game for the Meta Quest 3 and Meta Quest Pro, hence its return to the spotlight.

UniVersus, a collectable card game predicated on pitting characters from various franchises against each other, is going all in on Godzilla after offering a couple of Minus One cards through highly convoluted means last year. They're releasing a couple of Godzilla Challenger Series (preconstructed decks) on June 21, one based around Godzilla and Mothra, the other around King Ghidorah and Rodan, with Mechagodzilla thrown into the mix for both. I've never played this game in my life, but the prospect of a shiny Godzilla card with James Stokoe art is sort of tempting.

[sorenphelps]

Review of 2024

I was tagged by @lovelymasks and @noblecorgi, and tbh i'm a little confused how to make this post as i am not a writer at all.

I've made 203 posts in 2024 here, of which 166 are "original" posts. I got 16,729 notes in total, which is almost 3 times more than last year! Currently I have 1,802 followers here.

Some highlights:

I participated in R/S Big Bang and a Prongsfoot Reverse Big Bang. I've met so many cool people this year, mostly due to these fests. I also joined Discord (my username is the same as my URL here) and discovered my passion for drawing nsfw stuff, this was the first time I was able to finish inktober (the secret to this was apparently to make it a kinktober instead), and I also managed to do an XXX-mas advent calendar because why not.

I've been illustrating fanfics more as well, some examples:

When in Doubt: Sustain by @lovelymasks (so far 15 pics and counting)

Sorry I'm Late by @lovelymasks

Merfolk AU of @lovelymasks

M.A.T.E.[s] by @diamondmeadow

Ad Astra by @roalinda (it's part of one of the fests i've participated this year)

ante meridiem. by @diamondmeadow (another fest piece)

class A by @swoopswrites (a fest one again)

Black Oblivion by @alandia-wings (and again, a fest collab)

Kiss me tonight by @lovelymasks

shirt. by @diamondmeadow

Genius is one percent inspiration and ninty-nine percent perspiration by @lovelymasks

Honorable mentions:

Did you miss me? by @krethes & @fantismal

random band au thoughts by @lilacella

my fic illustration tag

my rockstar au tag & pride series

I have some sketches and other half-finished or just simply not yet posted stuff in my drafts, stay tuned because I will post them in a bit. I have a bigger project in the works, fingers crossed that can be revealed soon too!