#Influencer Marketing New York

[influicity]

Influencer Marketing Boston

That is why influencer marketing in Boston is really beneficial in creating an authentic line of advertising to an audience you are looking to target. Boston has an active influencer community on Instagram, YouTube, TikTok, and many more social platforms.

[runwayinfluence1]

At Runway Influence we offer top social media influeners for promotional events and high-end marketing campaigns. We are a premier marketing agnecy offering major Intagram Influencers to promote your brand and grow your followers. Model Influencers Los Angeles, Model Influencers New York, Influencer Marketing New York

[ldrsgroup]

NFT influencers can be credited for turning social media into a marketplace. Social media isn’t developed for marketing, branding, and advertising. It is a cool place for networking, making friends, sharing thoughts, and keeping society updated about your current status like your job, family, and profession.

[alwaysbewoke]

honestly, FUCK ISRAEL!!

[supremeclothings]

Supreme Clothing has become one of the most iconic names in the world of streetwear, blending skate culture, fashion, and a sense of exclusivity to create a global phenomenon. Since its inception in 1994, the brand has redefined how streetwear interacts with mainstream culture, while maintaining an air of underground credibility. Here’s an in-depth look at what makes Supreme a standout brand in the fashion industry.

A Brief History of Supreme

Founded by James Jebbia in New York City, Supreme started as a small skateboarding shop catering to skaters and streetwear enthusiasts. The brand’s minimalist logo—a red box with "Supreme" written in white Futura Heavy Oblique font—was inspired by Barbara Kruger’s art, immediately positioning it as a visually recognizable brand.

Supreme’s early collections featured simple designs, often focusing on comfort and practicality, which appealed to the skateboarding community. Over time, however, its offerings expanded, including collaborations with major brands and artists, propelling Supreme into a global spotlight.

The Power of Scarcity and Hype

One of Supreme's most genius marketing strategies is its focus on limited-edition releases. Known as "drops," these weekly launches feature a small number of items, which often sell out within minutes. The limited supply creates a sense of urgency and exclusivity, driving demand among its loyal fanbase.

This scarcity-based model has led to a robust resale market, where Supreme items often sell for multiples of their original price. Iconic pieces, such as the Supreme box logo Supreme hoodies or collaborations with brands like Louis Vuitton, Nike, and The North Face, are particularly sought after by collectors and enthusiasts.

Collaborations: A Supreme Strategy

Supreme T Shirt

has consistently stayed relevant through collaborations with other brands, artists, and even cultural icons. Some of the most notable collaborations include:

Supreme x Louis Vuitton (2017): A groundbreaking partnership that merged luxury fashion with streetwear, bridging two seemingly disparate worlds.

Supreme x Nike: Frequent collaborations with Nike have resulted in highly coveted sneakers and apparel that blend functionality with urban aesthetics.

Supreme x The North Face: Combining utility with style, this collaboration offers jackets, backpacks, and accessories that appeal to outdoor enthusiasts and fashion aficionados alike.

These collaborations are a testament to Supreme's ability to innovate and remain a cultural touchpoint.

The Cultural Impact of Supreme

Supreme's influence extends beyond clothing; it represents a lifestyle. The brand is deeply rooted in skateboarding culture, but its appeal has transcended boundaries to attract celebrities, musicians, and fashion-forward individuals. Supreme has become a status symbol, with its pieces often worn as a badge of cultural awareness and style.

Moreover, Supreme Jacket has played a significant role in legitimizing streetwear as a major player in the fashion industry. What was once considered niche has become mainstream, thanks to brands like Supreme paving the way for others to follow.

Criticism and Controversies

Despite its success, Supreme has faced criticism over its pricing strategy, perceived elitism, and environmental impact. Additionally, the brand's logo has been scrutinized for its similarities to Barbara Kruger's work, raising questions about artistic appropriation.

However, these controversies have done little to dampen the brand’s appeal, often fueling further interest and discourse around it.

Conclusion

Supreme Shorts

is more than just a fashion brand; it’s a cultural phenomenon that has shaped the way we view streetwear and its place in society. By combining exclusivity, innovation, and a deep connection to youth culture, Supreme continues to dominate the streetwear scene. Whether you're a skater, a collector, or someone who appreciates cutting-edge fashion, Supreme remains a name synonymous with style and influence.

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #26

July 5-12 2024

The IRS announced it had managed to collect $1 billion in back taxes from high-wealth tax cheats. The program focused on persons with more than $1 million in yearly income who owned more than $250,000 in unpaid taxes. Thanks to money in Biden's 2022 Inflation Reduction Act the IRS is able to undertake more enforcement against rich tax cheats after years of Republicans cutting the agency's budget, which they hope to do again if they win power again.

The Biden administration announced a $244 million dollar investment in the federal government’s registered apprenticeship program. This marks the largest investment in the program's history with grants going out to 52 programs in 32 states. The President is focused on getting well paying blue collar opportunities to people and more people are taking part in the apprenticeship program than ever before. Republican pledge to cut it, even as employers struggle to find qualified workers.

The Department of Transportation announced the largest single project in the department's history, $11 billion dollars in grants for the The Hudson River Tunnel. Part of the $66 billion the Biden Administration has invested in our rail system the tunnel, the most complex Infrastructure project in the nation would link New York and New Jersey by rail under the Hudson. Once finished it's believed it'll impact 20% of the American economy by improving and speeding connection throughout the Northeast.

The Department of Energy announced $1.7 billion to save auto worker's jobs and convert factories to electronic vehicles. The Biden administration will used the money to save or reopen factories in Michigan, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Georgia, Illinois, Indiana, Maryland, and Virginia and retool them to make electric cars. The project will save 15,000 skilled union worker jobs, and created 2,900 new high-quality jobs.

The Department of Housing and Urban Development reached a settlement with The Appraisal Foundation over racial discrimination. TAF is the organization responsible for setting standards and qualifications for real estate appraisers. The Bureau of Labor Statistics last year found that TAF was 94.7% White and 0.6% Black, making it the least racially diverse of the 800 occupations surveyed. Black and Latino home owners are far more likely to have their houses under valued than whites. Under the settlement with HUD TAF will have to take serious steps to increase diversity and remove structural barriers to diversity.

The Department of Justice disrupted an effort by the Russian government to influence public opinion through AI bots. The DoJ shut down nearly 1,000 twitter accounts that were linked to a Russian Bot farm. The bots used AI technology to not only generate tweets but also AI image faces for profile pictures. The effort seemed focused on boosting support for Russia's war against Ukraine and spread negative stories/impressions about Ukraine.

The Department of Transportation announces $1.5 billion to help local authorities buy made in America buses. 80% of the funding will go toward zero or low-emission technology, a part of the President's goal of reaching zero emissions by 2050. This is part of the $5 billion the DOT has spent over the last 3 years replacing aging buses with new cleaner technology.

President Biden with Canadian Prime Minster Justin Trudeau and Finnish President Alexander Stubb signed a new agreement on the arctic. The new trilateral agreement between the 3 NATO partners, known as the ICE Pact, will boost production of ice breaking ships, the 3 plan to build as many as 90 between them in the coming years. The alliance hopes to be a counter weight to China's current dominance in the ice breaker market and help western allies respond to Russia's aggressive push into the arctic waters.

The Department of Transportation announced $1.1 billion for greater rail safety. The program seeks to, where ever possible, eliminate rail crossings, thus removing the dangers and inconvenience to communities divided by rail lines. It will also help update and improve safety measures at rail crossings.

The Department of the Interior announced $120 million to help tribal communities prepare for climate disasters. This funding is part of half a billion dollars the Biden administration has spent to help tribes build climate resilience, which itself is part of a $50 billion dollar effort to build climate resilience across the nation. This funding will help support drought measures, wildland fire mitigation, community-driven relocation, managed retreat, protect-in-place efforts, and ocean and coastal management.

The USDA announced $100 million in additional funds to help feed low income kids over the summer. Known as "SUN Bucks" or "Summer EBT" the new Biden program grants the families of kids who qualify for free meals at school $120 dollars pre-child for groceries. This comes on top of the traditional SUN Meals program which offers school meals to qualifying children over the summer, as well as the new under President Biden SUN Meals To-Go program which is now offering delivery of meals to low-income children in rural areas. This grant is meant to help local governments build up the Infrastructure to support and distribute SUN Bucks. If fully implemented SUN Bucks could help 30 million kids, but many Republican governors have refused the funding.

USAID announced its giving $100 million to the UN World Food Program to deliver urgently needed food assistance in Gaza. This will bring the total humanitarian aid given by the US to the Palestinian people since the war started in October 2023 to $774 million, the single largest donor nation. President Biden at his press conference last night said that Israel and Hamas have agreed in principle to a ceasefire deal that will end the war and release the hostages. US negotiators are working to close the final gaps between the two sides and end the war.

The Senate confirmed Nancy Maldonado to serve as a Judge on the Seventh Circuit Court of Appeals. Judge Maldonado is the 202nd federal Judge appointed by President Biden to be confirmed. She will the first Latino judge to ever serve on the 7th Circuit which covers Illinois, Indiana, and Wisconsin.

Bonus: At the NATO summit in Washington DC President Biden joined 32 allies in the Ukraine compact. Allies from Japan to Iceland confirmed their support for Ukraine and deepening their commitments to building Ukraine's forces and keeping a free and Democratic Ukraine in the face of Russian aggression. World leaders such as British Prime Minster Keir Starmer, German Chancellor Olaf Scholz, French President Emmanuel Macron, and Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, praised President Biden's experience and leadership during the NATO summit

[sayruq]

Israel organized and paid for an influence campaign last year targeting U.S. lawmakers and the American public with pro-Israel messaging, as it aimed to foster support for its actions in the war with Gaza, according to officials involved in the effort and documents related to the operation. The covert campaign was commissioned by Israel’s Ministry of Diaspora Affairs, a government body that connects Jews around the world with the State of Israel, four Israeli officials said. The ministry allocated about $2 million to the operation and hired Stoic, a political marketing firm in Tel Aviv, to carry it out, according to the officials and the documents. The campaign began in October and remains active on the platform X. At its peak, it used hundreds of fake accounts that posed as real Americans on X, Facebook and Instagram to post pro-Israel comments. The accounts focused on U.S. lawmakers, particularly ones who are Black and Democrats, such as Representative Hakeem Jeffries, the House minority leader from New York, and Senator Raphael Warnock of Georgia, with posts urging them to continue funding Israel’s military. ChatGPT, the artificial intelligence-powered chatbot, was used to generate many of the posts. The campaign also created three fake English-language news sites featuring pro-Israel articles. The Israeli government’s connection to the influence operation, which The New York Times verified with four current and former members of the Ministry of Diaspora Affairs and documents about the campaign, has not previously been reported. FakeReporter, an Israeli misinformation watchdog, identified the effort in March. Last week, Meta, which owns Facebook and Instagram, and OpenAI, which makes ChatGPT, said they had also found and disrupted the operation.

[SOURCE]

Israel’s bot army was so obvious the New York Times had to write an article about it

[foragerknits]

Sometimes I think about how in order to be a writer today you cannot have internet privacy. I was reading an article in which a journalist recalls collaborating with Mary Oliver, who was notoriously private. Oliver refused to communicate with them through fax or email and said (through her publisher) that she would hand them written notes at an event she was doing in New York City. It struck me that Mary Oliver in 2024 would have almost no chance of becoming a successful poet. Writers today have to have a social media presence to have a built in audience so publishers can be assured that they will get sales and to bear the brunt of social media marketing. They have to be available and put themselves on the internet in every way possible.

More and more I read interviews from artists across many mediums talk about how if you cannot market on Tik Tok your chances of success diminish. There is nothing wrong with wanting to be an online influencer and I am surely not saying that the author-influencer is a new phenomenon, but it should not be a pre-requisite for being a successful writer. I love that writers like Mary Oliver, Elena Ferrante, and Donna Tart exist, and it is not talked enough about how they could not begin a career in 2024 and achieve the same amount of success unless they were well connected or extremely lucky. It makes me sad that this is the state of publishing.

[usnatarchives]

Happy #NationalComicBookDay! Did you know the National Archives carries a wide array of comic books such as this No.90 "Batman" comic once used as evidence in an investigation by the Judiciary Committee of the United States on juvenile delinquency?

In April 27, 1953, the Judiciary Committee of the United States Senate created a Special Subcommittee on Juvenile Delinquency to investigate the causes of juvenile delinquency and to propose measures in response. The subcommittee examined several factors influencing young people, but it drew the most attention when it investigated the allegation that comic books contributed to the rise in juvenile crime. The subcommittee looked at comics like this one as evidence.

The early 1950s were a time of great anxiety about the nation’s youth. In 1955, Newsweek magazine reported that the national crime rate had increased by 33.4 percent since 1940, largely due to increased criminal acts by teenagers. Comic books were a new form of media and among the first consumer products specifically marketed to teenage buyers. Civic and religious leaders linked comic book reading to antisocial and criminal behavior, and several major newspapers launched anti–comic book editorial campaigns.

During April and June, 1954, the Subcommittee on Juvenile Delinquency held televised public hearings in New York, the center of the comic book publishing industry. They were especially concerned about comic books’ vivid, detailed illustrations of violent acts. In the end, the subcommittee found that reading comic books did not cause teenagers to commit crimes. They ruled against censoring or banning comics and instead called on the comic book industry to regulate itself by adopting a ratings code and imposing a voluntary ban on depictions of extreme violence. The committee concluded that, ultimately, it was a parent’s role to screen material their children read.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Chapter 8: Jealousy Doesn't Look Good On Anybody Except...

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter eight of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (a few times), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. Reader is described as "curvy" occasionally. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

The song they dance to is "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" by Russ Columbo and this should take you to the song. It's the song I named the series for, because I believe it encompasses how both the reader feels, but also how Soldier Boy will feel in a few chapters. I also believe that the song House of Memories by Panic at the Disco, fits the more modern parts of the series.

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Philadelphia 1938

The lights twinkled along the ceiling of the dance hall as the gentle swell of jazz floated through the air. Couples swayed on the dance floor clinging to one another as the soft tones of the music soothed the dull throb of the whispers of rising tension overseas. It was a Saturday night, and you and a few of your friends from the Dawson School for Girls had slipped away to spend the evening twirling in the arms of whomever caught your fancy.

Well, at least that's what your friends wanted to do. There was only one particular man who'd caught your fancy, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The Dawson School for Girls was the answer to your mother's prayers, a boarding school in Boston, far away from Ben's "corruptive influence" as she put it. Ben was currently at boarding school number ten in Upstate New York. The last time you’d seen him was when you were on break and Ben had just left boarding school number nine for fighting with other students, but he wouldn't say what for. You’d sent him a few letters to tell him how bored you were including a few sketches and watercolor paintings, with minimal response, but it was like him not to write back.

You hadn't mentioned that Howard Stine had been coming on the weekends to take you out. Your mother was pleased with him, he checked all the boxes: wealthy, not Ben, educated, not Ben, from a nice family, not Ben, and of course most importantly, not Ben.

She was practically making wedding invitations and choosing the names of your children after only three months. However, it was nice to see her happy for a change, kept her from sniping at your figure now that someone was interested. Well, not sniping that much.

Howard was… nice, but he was one of the most boring people you'd ever met and he never understood why you always carried a sketchbook with you. When he'd taken you to Franklin Park one weekend, you stopped along the pond to sketch some of the ducks that were waddling on the bank, but Howard told you he didn’t have time to wait for you to draw them. Instead of telling him that he could just leave, you shut the sketchpad and continued to walk with him and quickly learned that it was better to leave your sketchpad at the dorm whenever he was in town. You also found yourself talking less and less, allowing him to fill the silence with his talk of the stock market crash and how the United States economy recovered due to the efforts of President FDR.

You hated that. You didn't recognize yourself when you were with him. You didn't feel like you.

And every time he was here all you could do was compare him to Ben. Ben would never tell you to stop drawing, yes he would tease you about it, but he always sat next to you while you were sketching, watching you work. You never understood that. Ben was so impatient with everyone else, but he was willing to sit with you for any inordinate amount of time if you were drawing while making you laugh the whole time.

I miss him so much.

"Can I get you a drink?" Howard puts his hand on the small of your back, leaning in to whisper in your ear. You try not to flinch at his touch. He had already been in town, walking you home from a dinner that was dominated by awkward silence and the clicking of utensils on plates when you'd run into your friends just as he was walking you back to the dorm. They had rounded the corner giggling and begging you to come with them. Despite your insistences for him to stay in and relax for the night at his hotel, he refused.

It meant that now you were stuck with him while all your friends got to twirl around with men that made them warm and giddy. Howard made you feel like you'd swallowed a lemon.

"I'm fine, but thank you." You force a smile.

Howard shrugs, before he walks away towards the crowded bar on the other side of the room and blessedly far away from you.

Your thoughts drifted to Ben. You missed your friend more than words could comprehend. Not just because you were far from your family in another city, but because it felt like you were missing apart of yourself when he wasn't there. You briefly wonder if he felt the same way when he wasn't with you.

Probably not.

You turn away from Howard's retreating figure, to watch the couples on the dance floor. You sway to the music, holding your arms around yourself and feeling your dark green dress swish around your ankles, one that you'd picked out yourself, not a monstrosity of pink tulle, but something that you believed accentuated the natural curves of your body that your mother used other dresses to hide. Your mouth turns down into a frown remembering how Howard had reacted to seeing you in it, when he tried to give you his jacket to cover up, but you refused.

You had wanted him to be stunned by how you looked in it, or at least, wanted someone to be. The same someone that was miles away and probably tickling the skirt of someone who caught his fancy.

"One of the most attractive men I've ever seen in my life is at the bar." Your friend Pearl stated looking behind you with wide eyes.

I've got you beat. You think to yourself to a sigh, wishing, again, that you were here with Ben instead of Howard.

"Very funny." You roll your eyes, thinking that she’s making fun of where Howard is sitting probably flagging down the bartender with both hands to catch his attention.

"I'm not talking about Howard. This guy is seriously a looker. And he's staring at you." Pearl says again.

"Sure." You continue to watch an elderly couple sway back and forth to the smooth jazz that ebbs from the band on stage.

Must be nice to be with someone for that long.

You watch how effortlessly the couple moves as one, how the man stares down at the woman with more love than you can comprehend. It makes your heart sink in your chest.

The way things were panning out, you were going to end up with Howard and you couldn't imagine looking at anyone like that other than Ben.

"You're about to see, because he's coming this way." Pearl takes a step back from you as if anticipating the stranger interrupting your conversation.

"He's not-" You begin to say, but you feel someone place their hand on the small of your back, turning you towards them.

"Fancy meeting you here." Ben smiles down at you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

"Ben!" Your heart soars when you recognize your friend and you can't help but hug him so tight he laughs, the movement of his chuckle makes you feel alive for the first time in weeks. The sharp smell of whiskey and the familiar spicy scent of his cologne greets you.

"Guess you missed me." The rumble of his voice vibrates where your cheek rests against his chest.

"I did." You pull away from him reluctantly. "What are you doing here?" You can't help but smile at him, probably wider than what was attractive.

"Thought I'd stop by and visit on my way back to Philadelphia. Saw you walk into this place. " Ben shrugs. "What are you doing out so late?"

"Looking for trouble." You smirk.

"You found him sweetheart." Ben leans down towards you making your throat get unusually tight.

"Hi." Pearl says interrupting the conversation.

 Ben turns his smug smile on her. "Hi."

"I'm Pearl." She looks from you to Ben as if trying to decide that it's okay for her to introduce yourself.

"Benjamin." You watch him slip into the cool and smooth Ben, the one that charmed whomever caught his eye.

You can't help but feel a prick of jealousy against your skin. It was familiar, but every time it happened, it didn't make any of this easier. You knew that you shouldn't be jealous, you didn't have a claim on him, you were friends, just friends, only friends, best friends…

And now you were with Howard.

You let out a soft sigh watching the way that Pearl looks up at Ben and the way he leans towards her with the confident smirk you love so much on his face.

"Would you like to dance Benjamin?" She asks.

"I would." Ben's smirk turns into a smile.

Pearl steps forward to reach for his hand, expecting him to take it, but he doesnt.

"Come on sweetheart." Ben reaches out and takes your hand, twirling you ahead of him onto the dance floor.

"Ben-" You giggle, head spinning with the movement, but when he twirls you back into his chest, you feel your breath catch. This wasn't the first time you'd been pressed up against him and it wasn't the first time you recognized how perfectly you fit together. Your soft curves molding against the hardness of his muscles as you sway back and forth to the music. When you were pressed up against him, you didn't feel like you were too big, you felt perfect, because of the way you fit against him.

"You know I am here with someone-" You say, before you get too wrapped up in how good it feels to be with him.

"Yes. Howard Stine. Though I do believe you said he stepped on your toes." Ben smiles at you, eyes twinkling in the light.

"That was four years ago, and he's… sweet?"

"Hmph." Ben rolls his eyes. "You can't even say it with a straight face sweetheart."

"I have never said anything bad about your companions."

"Missy-"

"Besides her." You frown.

He laughs at your reaction, the hand clutched in your right seems to warm with his smile. "You've never said anything about them period."

Because I hate thinking about how many of them there have been. Because I hate that you don't see me as someone who could be with you.

"I try not to dwell on your numerous escapades."

"You sound a little jealous doll." He smirks at you.

"What was that you were saying about Howard again?" You tease, holding on to his shoulders as you sway back and forth to the music.

"Can't be jealous of someone I've seen get chased by a duck." Ben's eyes trace your body for a moment. Your cheeks blush under his gaze. "You look nice. Not one of your mom's I'm guessing?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You don't look like a cupcake." He spins you away one more time before bringing you back into his chest.

"No. I think she'd probably have an aneurysm if she saw me wearing this. Howard also thought it was a bit much-"

Ben's hand tightens on your waist. "What?"

You shrug, leveling your eyes on his chest to distract yourself from his hand placement. "He tried to get me to wear his coat."

"He what?"

You shake your head to dissipate the self-doubt and body-shaming conversation that was about to unfold in your head.

"It's nothing." You raise your gaze back to his, but you're surprised to see the anger that burns behind his green eyes.

"It's not nothing. He had no right to-"

"Ben." You soothe, rubbing your thumb over his shoulder to comfort him.

The song shifts to something softer, forlorn, a song that reminded you of the heartache you felt with Ben, but also a melody that eases your soul somehow.

"I don't understand why you're with him." Ben sighs, but you can still feel the tension in his shoulders beneath your hand.

"My mother is happy-"

"But you're not." The look in his eyes is unfamiliar, almost earnest, as if he's trying to get you to understand something that he can't say.

"Ben." You breathe.

"Fine. I don't want you to think about him when we're dancing to our song anyway." The look in his eyes shifts back to the playful green they'd been before.

"Our song?" The words make your heart skip a beat and you can't help but smile at him.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd smiled this much. Probably the last time I saw him.

"Yes." Ben dips you back, before bringing you up against him, the playful look in his eyes becoming softer as you come back.

You know that your own gaze is filled with love and you remember watching the elderly couple. The way they looked at one another warming your heart as you gaze up at Ben. The three little words tiptoe against your tongue, the three little words that you'd been trying to say forever, but you can't. You don't want to lose him, don't want to live in a world without him, because you know that it won't be worth living.

So instead you lean forward and lay your head against his chest, in the space between his neck and shoulder as the song continues. You think that you feel Ben's arms tighten around you, pulling you further into his embrace, but you chock that up to wishful thinking.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You hear someone yell, and all of a sudden someone's hand is on your wrist jerking you away from Ben.

What?

Howard is standing there his chest pushed against Ben’s, trying to look intimidating, but Howard's inability to reach Ben's shoulders made it difficult for him.

You rub your fingers over your wrist, where Howard’s bright red handprint stands out against your skin.

Ben’s eyes shift to notice your ministrations, darkening with the force of his anger at the thought that Howard hurt you.

“I think I was dancing with my girl.” Ben’s eyes narrow, skating back to Howard.

Your heart skips a beat when he says that, but you shake away the thought, knowing that Ben is only saying that to make Howard angry.

“Your girl?!” Howard sputters, his face growing red. “She’s not your girl!”

“Howie, buddy-“ Ben’s confident smirk slips over his features but you still see the anger beneath the surface. “Calm down, you’ll give yourself a heart attack.”

“Just because you think you have some claim on her because you’ve been stringing her along with the harem that usually follows you, does not make her your girl!” Howard fumes. “She’s with me.” Howard grabs your wrist again and drags you towards him.

“Hey wait a minute-“ You begin to say.

Ben grabs the front of Howard's tailored suit, rumpling the pristine fabric. “Don’t you dare touch her like that.”

“I will touch her however I damn well please! She's mine-"

The grip on your wrist is so tight that you know it’ll leave bruises. “Howard wait-“ You try again to diffuse the tension, bringing your free hand to rest on his forearm to make him let go.

“Shut up.” He snaps, eyes flashing back to you.

Ben’s temper flares and the sharp crack of his fist against Howard’s face echoes through the room. Howard stumbles away, letting go of your wrist as he reels backward to the welcoming hardwood floor that catches him when he falls.

“Don’t you ever speak to her that way you arrogant son of a bitch!” Ben shouts taking a step forward. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched at his sides and his jaw is tight, as his anger burns through the air.

By now the band has stopped playing music and all the couples around you are watching with wide eyes.

I have to do something before he kills him.

You put yourself between them, your hands firmly planted on Ben’s muscular chest so your back is to where Howard stands fuming. “Ben. Don’t.”

But he’s not looking at you, his gaze is locked with Howard’s, eyes blazing, muscles tensing beneath the palms of your hands. You try to ignore how good his chest feels beneath your touch.

Damn it.

“Ben.” You say his name again.

His eyes snap back to yours. The soft green has hardened to an emerald with the force of his rage, so different than how he looked when the two of you were dancing. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Please.” You whisper. "Stop."

Ben looks from you to Howard, before he finally exhales. “Fine.” He mutters, and he turns and vanishes into the crowd of people without another word.

A minute passes and the music begins all over again, the band on the stage starting with a lively tune that makes the couples around you to move back on to the dance floor, but the tension of what just happened remains in the air.

Because what did just happen? Did Ben do that because he was protective of me? Or did he do that because he was jealous?

Your eyes trace where he vanished, longing for him to come back, but when he doesn't appear, you're left to deal with the aftermath. 

After numerous apologies to Howard, he finally relented and took you back to your dorm, leaving your group of friends at the dance hall. You knew there would definitely be a conversation about what just happened between you all when they got back, but even you were confused. Ben was always protective of you, but what happened seemed over the top. You think about how Ben called you “my girl," the way he said it sending a thrill down your spine. He’d never done that before and you wondered if it was because he wanted to get a rise out of Howard or because he believed it.

Not like he’s tried to do anything about it. You think to yourself stroking one finger against your bruised wrist. The discoloration was more prominent now, black and blue marks beginning to sprout like flowers in spring. Howard’s eye didn’t look much better when he dropped you off. You were surprised that he’d been forgiving enough to continue to see you, not that you wanted to see him, but you didn't think you could handle a letter from your mother.

Then again maybe she would pull you out of this ridiculous school.

A small tap at your window causes you to raise your head to look out the glass. Ben is sitting there, but he doesn’t smile like he usually does. Your dorm room was on the first floor, which meant that Ben didn't need to shimmy up a tree to get into it like he did when you were home. Then again this was the first time he'd showed up here and you wondered how he knew where your room was. You also weren't thrilled at his appearance because you didn't know when Pearl would come back and you weren't sure what your roommate would do if she came back and found Ben in your room. She was a stickler for the rules and despite your friendship, rooming with her was one of your least favorite things about the Dawson School For Girls.

“If they find you here I’m going to be in so much trouble.” You say helping him through the small window, putting your hand on the back of his head so that he doesn't bang it against the glass. "You might like getting kicked out of boarding schools, but I don't."

“They won’t find out.” Ben rolls his eyes. He glances at Pearl’s empty bed on the other side of the room. “Roommate not back yet?”

“No she was still dancing when I left.”

Ben frowns. “Where’s the asshole?”

“Ben-“

“What?”

“He left. And I don't exactly invite him up to where I sleep."

“Good.” Ben flexes his fist.

“How did you know which room was mine?” You ask. Ben had never come to see you before at boarding school and the fact that he was here probably meant that boarding school number ten was out.

“I might have guessed wrong.” He smirks.

“Uh-huh.” You sigh, but all you can think about is how he acted earlier. Your feet shift back and forth “Why did you hit him?”

Ben’s eyes darken. “He shouldn’t have touched you like that or said that to you.”

You stand there for a minute observing his reaction.

“He kinda deserved it." You say slowly.

You knew it was true. When Ben showed up Howard shouldn’t have lost it like he did, he definitely shouldn’t have grabbed you like that or called you his-

You stutter on that thought. But maybe he is right. I am Howard’s. We’ve been going steady… The thought of being his makes something curl up in your chest and die. There was only one man that you wanted to belong to.

"Yeah.” Ben sighs.

"Why did you call me your 'girl'?" You ask.

"Um." Ben shrugs. "Felt right in the moment."

"What?"

"I mean you are. You're my friend-"

"But that doesn't mean friend Ben." You say it gently trying to catch his eye, but Ben won't meet your gaze.

"Fine. I just wanted to mess with him a little bit." Ben frowns. "But I didn't like that he called you his, or the fact that he hurt you."

“But Ben I am his.” You whisper even though you don’t want to. “We’re going steady-“

“That doesn’t make you his!” Ben snaps, eyes flashing. “Just because he feels the need to say it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“But Ben-“

“And I never want to hear you say it.” He continues loudly.

What is wrong with him? I've never seen him this angry about anything.

“Why?”

“Because that means he has some claim on you. You’re not his, you’re my friend.”

"You're being ridiculous. You're saying that he can't have some claim on me but you're possessively calling me your friend!" You shout back frustrated.

Why is he acting like this? Does he really hate Howard that much?

"I am not! I'm just saying that you're my friend and you're not his!"

“I can’t be both?” Your words hang in the air between the two of you and you mentally beg Ben to answer. He was acting like he wanted you to be his, like he believed that he had some claim on you and you couldn't remember another time that he'd acted this way. Sure he teased Howard, but this was more than that.

It was almost possessive and it kinda scared you how much you liked it.

Ben doesn’t answer your question. His shoulders are tense, hands clenched into fists at his sides, while something lurks behind his eyes that you can’t identify.

“Ben?” You say it like a question, ignoring the urge to press your hands against his chest like you did earlier at the dance to calm him down.

His gaze drops to your arm, where Howard grabbed you, tracing the bruises and clenching his jaw together. Ben’s right hand comes to delicately pick up your bruised wrist, running his thumb over the discolored flesh with a frown. “Does it hurt?” He rumbles changing the subject.

“No. Does that hurt?” You breathe noticing his bruised knuckles and gently probe your fingers along them.

You hated the though that he was hurt and for you, no less.

Why did he have to intervene? Why did he hit Howard?

“It was worth it.”

You both stand there for a minute, with Ben holding on to your wrist, touch surprisingly gentle.

“I just don’t like that he hurt you okay?” He mutters raising his eyes to yours. You weren't prepared for the soft look in his eyes. You expected him to still be angry over Howard, but he almost looked, worried.

“I'm okay Ben." You whisper back.

You want him to answer your question. You think again about telling him those three little words you wanted to say when you were swaying on the dance floor together but you can’t.

He nods once before he looks around the room, eyes falling on your sketchpad where it lays closed on your bed. "Got any new ones?"

You knew it was Ben's way of asking if he could stay, trying to tell you that he didn’t want to go back to Philadelphia that night, and you didn't want him to either.

"A few. If you're not too tired-"

"I’m never too tired for you."

You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest. “Okay.”

The whole time you sit together on your bed, Ben doesn't drop your wrist, in fact he continues to brush his thumb against it while you look through your sketchbook. And in a few hours when Pearl finds you and Ben curled up in bed together, you’re not embarrassed, because deep down you’re starting to believe that Ben cared for you more than he was willing to admit.

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series, please let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak @cassiecasluciluce @muhahaha303

@deans-spinster-witch @kayleighmeister @demodemo909 @fruitfacess @bobbobbobinogs

@bughill126

[influicity]

YouTube Influencers

To conclude, a YouTube influencer is a content creator, helping amuse or educates the audience using the medium of video. Their reach might be huge, but more important is how authentic, diverse, or relatable the content becomes a part of their life.

[artyandink]

amoralism | one

Summary: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

A/N - I said I’d post on Friday but surprise! Also, as a note, I have no intention of completely relating to realism (even though I’m pretty sure that’s a title of a chapter). This will be almost like an action/romance movie, and the format is sort of like that too.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Shameless - Camila Cabello

narcissism

Fifty-Shots Bar had never had this many patrons before.

Clinking of glasses, the bellow of random toasts, tapping of the bar for another round, the whole trifecta played on loop until all those glasses came down on the counter and all the beefy men downing those drinks like water would slap the back of the tallest in the lot, forcing that dude with the unreasonably gorgeous hair to bend to their height from the pressure.

“What’s the occasion, boys?” The lady on shift, Jenna, chuckled. She was intrigued as to why the festivities were so… robust, but then one of the guys shoved the tall one forward, clapping his shoulder in a way that knocked the latter’s breath out.

“Ah, nothing.” The taller one tried playing it off, but the shorter wouldn’t hear of it. His green eyes shone mischievously as he ruffled the tall guy’s hair. Jenna’s eyes couldn’t help but trail down the patron’s, well, everything. Short blonde hair, five o’clock shadow on the sharpest jawline she’d ever seen. Lips always in a pout, daring her to kiss it away until they bruised. Casual denim shirt nothing short of tempting, as tight as a damn straitjacket over that broad, no doubt kissable chest. Arms framed in his sleeves, probably bore enough strength to throw her around like a ragdoll and he wouldn’t break a sweat.

She bit her lip. Oh Lord, this man was either from heaven or hell and she wouldn’t complain either way.

“It’s not nothing.” He laughed, shaking his head. “My brother Sam here took down a big-time multi level marketing scheme. So damn modest.” Another clap of Sam’s shoulder. However, he seemed to have clocked Jenna and her obvious admiration of his entire being, a quirk of the corner of his mouth having her knees like jelly. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

She giggled, her finger twirling her hair around her finger as if she was a little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Jenna. What’s yours?”

“Dean Winchester.” He took her hand, kissing her knuckle and letting his lips linger, smouldering eye contact sending shivers down her spine. “Agent Dean Winchester. Say, Jenna, what time do you get off?”

“When you do.” She breathed, and the low chuckle from Dean had her snapping back into her senses but also getting a very noticeable ache between her thighs. “Um, in an hour.”

Sam had already left. He wasn’t in the mood for watching very visible eye-banging.

Champagne. Chauvinists. The classic fancy, downtown party hosted by a family that owned half of Chicago. Flashing lights, a pair of eyes on you at all times… it was rather an overwhelming feeling, one that you couldn’t shake.

You didn’t know whether to feel confident or hunted in the red dress that you wore, satin and navy and with an open back- all things nice and very attractive to men. Your makeup and blonde (for today) hair done like a movie star and getting the attention of every man in the room, regardless of age.

“And who might you be, sweets?” A very Southern accent drawled from behind you, and you turned around, making a show of playing the innocent yet extremely attractive and mysterious lady at the most extravagant birthday party you had ever seen.

You were playing a stereotype. You hated stereotypes.

“Anna Raleigh.” You responded smoothly, and he seemed to buy it, taking your hand and kissing the knuckle, the creepy eye contact urging you to snatch your hand back and scrub it with an antiseptic wipe.

“Miss Raleigh, you are a work of art. Name’s Matthias Aldrich.” He practically purred, and that sent a cold shiver up your spine.

You put on a polite, smitten smile, though you were inwardly rolling your eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

Matthias tucked a strand of your blonde hair behind your ear. “I’ve always been fond of women who are the golden type of blonde. Hope this is natural.”

You took a crouton from a passing tray, popping it in your mouth and chewing on it, answering once you’d swallowed the bite. You’d done it quick because you could see this dude’s eyes on your lips as you chewed. “I say, these croutons are quite dry, no?”

The door to Jenna’s apartment burst open, her and Dean stumbled in, lips locked, door closing with a well-timed click and moans echoing amid breathy sighs. Dean’s jacket fell just as Jenna’s fingers tugged on his hair, causing him to jolt and let out a growl, groaning as he bent to kiss her neck. “Just like that.” He murmured, nipping and assaulting the tanned skin. Only detaching to pull her skimpy tank over her head, revealing a hot pink, lace bra.

She’s freaky. He liked that.

“You like?” She breathed, ample chest heaving as her teeth worried her bottom lip, batting her eyelashes. Putting on a show for him.

“Mmh.” He hummed, nodding before he reached for the clasp, effortlessly undoing it. It fell to the floor, and he clicked his tongue with a grin. “Better.”

“Much.” She purred, kissing him hotly and leading them to the bedroom.

Pushing.

Pulling.

Grinding.

Jenna’s legs wrapping around his waist, courtesy of Dean putting them there. Moans. Groans. Whimpers. Cries and low mutters of each other’s name. The room heating up and pulsing with enough pressure to forge a diamond.

The bed creaking. Headboard banging. High pitched moans that belong in a porno. Groans of ‘just like that’ and whines of ‘right there’ and ‘don’t stop’.

Not even after a minute after your comment about the dry croutons, the building was stormed. Armed personnel burst through every exit, holding up automatics and yelling for everyone to get their hands up, while you were taken by the arm by one of the people yelling ‘FBI! Hands where we can see them!’ and dragged in a way which appeared rough.

You were led kicking and screaming into a side van, and the moment the door slid shut, you snapped out of it, pulling the wig off. “About time, eh, boys?”

“At least we got your signal.” One protested, while another snorted.

“Dry croutons? Really?” He rolled his eyes, spinning on the chair, raising a pointed eyebrow at you. “With all due respect, it could be something less outlandish.”

“Then it would be too easy to miss, Velasquez.” You retorted, grabbing a makeup wipe and beginning to practically scrub it all off. Also taking an antiseptic wipe and a bottle of hand sanitizer to rid your hand of Matthias Aldrich’s lips. “And since when do I work like I’m a basic, sweater wearing, background blending Gertrude?”

“She has a point, Velasquez.” One agent quipped as he went by. You pointed after him with a smirk.

“Willis gets it.” You grinned, shrugging. “Why can’t you? Have a heart, Velasquez.”

“Yeah, have a heart.”

“Shut up!” Velasquez yelled after him, and got the middle finger from Willis in response.

“You ready to report to the CO, Agent?” Willis asked you, passing you a mug of coffee, which you gratefully sipped.

“When am I not?” You chuckled, letting the warm liquid wash over your throat. “Now, I don’t care what you two clowns do, I need these guys behind bars for two lifers at least. I’ve been hunting down these sons of bad mothers for months. I’m not having any slip ups, no buy ins nor outs. Every. Exit. Sealed.” You looked between the two with an intense glare, no nonsense and all business. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Morning afters were always hard for Dean. He had a rule that he followed to the T.

Mind blowing sex? Doesn’t matter, leave before he gets attached and she gets hurt.

“Sorry, Jen, I’d stay, but I’m late for work.” He hurriedly buttoned his denim shirt, trying not to get distracted by the sight of the girl in the sheets, naked body only a thin layer of cotton away.

All he had to do was peel it.

“Aw, handsome, I thought you’d stay for round six.” Jenna giggled, looking him up and down. Inside, Dean was rolling his eyes in frustration. They always got clingy after the best night of their life. Then again, that was purely his fault.

“I would, trust me, darlin’.” He cleared his throat, walking into the living room and finding his jacket and keys, along with his belt. That was important.

Jenna stepped in as well, clad in a silk robe that made her look no short of delectable. But he had to resist. Stick to the damn code. “Y’know, I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.”

She was trying a hit. God, she was trying hard. Dean had to physically resist going back for another hit. She was clingy, sure, but there was a huge double standard there.

“Are you, now?” He smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. “Careful, sweetheart, or I might sextuple dip.”

“Maybe I want you to.” She winked, and it had him chuckling, looking down and then back at her.

“Tempting. Very tempting.”

You stepped into the office, your heels making small taps on the floor as you went, signing in and showing your ID at the register before making your way inside. You’d been told to take a rest for a few days before you returned to your post in the HQ at DC, but who were you to listen?

And everyone knew it too, because the very moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with a show of applause and cheers from your colleagues. “Tenth drug ring of your career.” Agent Lafitte clapped your shoulder, chuckling. “You’re on a roll, sister.”

“Cool it with the flattery, Benny, I’m on a time crunch.” You snorted, shaking your head and holding a hand out for a case file, which was dropped into your hand as you continued walking.

“Hi.” There was a blonde girl beside you, hair pulled up into a ponytail, presumably the one who handed the fine to you. “Agent Jo Harvelle. I used to work narcotics, but they’re giving me a trial in Major Crimes. I was told by the CO to shadow you, so I can get a good sense of the ropes.”

While looking through the files, you glanced up at Agent Harvelle, seeing the eager look on her face. Rather like you when you started, and the eager ones made good agents. With a little tough love. “Yeah, a’ight. CO’s called me for a briefing, so it’ll be up to him whether you stay or step out.”

“About that drug ring you busted?” She grinned. “I was told. By practically everyone. How are you that skilled?”

“Ain’t my first rodeo, hon.” You smirked as you reached the boss’ office, rapping twice on the door with your knuckles and earning a polite ‘come in’.

That you did, finding your superior officer, Senior Agent Robert Singer, standing behind his desk, nose deep in a file while his ear was being talked off by… oh, boy.

Agent Winchester.

“So I quickly take my gun, aim it between his eyes,” He held up finger guns and aimed them to prove his point, completely disregarding your arrival, hideously typical, “and I said ‘hands up or I’ll reenact Rambo’. Genius, am I right?”

You cleared your throat sharply.

That got Agent Winchester’s attention, his green eyes zeroing in on you and giving you memories back that you tried to dispose of in the first place. A smirk twitched at those lips that were once too close to be professional before they stretched into a grin, pearly whites flashing. “Mornin’, Agent. Surprised to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing.” You pressed your lips together (and your thighs, but you’d never admit that), turning to Agent Singer instead. “Should I leave Harvelle outside, sir?”

“That’s ideal.” Singer nodded, so you signalled to Harvelle to stay outside as you closed and locked the soundproof door. You passed the file on the Brierson drug ring to him, which he checked over. “Impressive work, as always. This’ll land them behind bars for sure.”

“Always the perfectionist, aren’t you?” Winchester quipped, arms folded across his chest with a smug smirk. Your brow twitched; you knew exactly why he was highlighting that word in bold, italics, whatever he was intending to do. You’d just rather not think about it.

You scanned him over, adding all the facts in your head. His shirt wasn’t ironed. Belt was wonky. Hair looked like it had a comb desperately run through it but failed to tame it. Faint hint of something red you recognised as a lipstick smear on his jugular and a sliver of a purple bruise that disappeared under his collar. Which was hastily pulled up. His tie done in the simplest knot ever and still looked tragic.

He got here in quite the rush.

“Nice night?” You shot back, a full smirk tugging at your lips and making his drop. He gave you a look which blatantly said smartass, while you proudly notched that win on your belt.

Singer looked between the two of you before tapping his desk. “Entertaining, but not why you’re both here. We’ve found ourselves in a fix. Franz Brierson wasn’t at that party.”

Your blood ran cold. That guy was the big boss, the guy who started it all, got everyone on his payroll. If he was loose… but he couldn’t be loose. Unless you didn’t check?

“I’ve been looking into it for the past five hours. That’s right, I got here early.” Singer huffed out a breath. “There’s a chance that our big boss was notified beforehand. A mole that told him we were coming.”

“A mole. In the FBI.” Dean muttered, now serious as he rubbed a hand into his mouth. “We’ve been clean for years.”

“It’s the only explanation.” You piped up, shaking your head as you began to pace. Heels tapping, Dean’s eyes fixating on the sway of your hips and your ass in that getup at the wrong goddamn moment. “That operation was airtight. No room for error. Only someone on the inside could have leaked that info.”

“You two are the best Major Crimes has. Most arrests, most drug and crime busts I’ve seen on a record in all my years of being here.” Singer folded his arms, looking between the two of you. “I don’t know the whats, whens, whos, hows, whys of what happened when you two were last assigned on a case together, but I need this operation to stay in this circle right here.” He faced you. “When you’re working this case, Agent Harvelle can’t be there. It’s gonna be hard to shake, but you can handle it. As for you,” Singer shot an exasperated look at Winchester, “look presentable!”

“I look hot.” Dean pouted, now holding his jacket over his shoulder with it hooked on his index.

“Hot isn’t FBI. Go sort yourself out, or I’ll get your brother to do it. I need to oversee operations.” Singer left the room and the tense air between you and Dean, which you faced head on.

“So,” You started in a lilting voice, which he recognised instantly as your teasing tone and prompting an eye roll before the words left your lips, “was she good?”

“Shut up.” He groaned, shaking his head as he pulled his suit jacket back on. “None of your damn business. It’s an intimate exploration, not exhibitionism.” He lowered his voice so you couldn’t hear. “Though she’d probably be into that.”

“Are we calling sex an intimate exploration now?” You scoffed lightly, laughing afterwards. “You’re such a sappy romantic.”

“Asshole.” He shot back. Two can play, Winchester.

“Dumbass.”

“Smartass.”

“Jackass.”

“We gotta stop using ‘ass’ in every sentence.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair and picking up the file to busy himself. But the file was picked out of his hands, left carelessly on the desk, your lips claiming his something sinful.

Something that had him moaning, gripping your hips and his mouth soft, pliable, agreeable to your every want and need. He was all yours, and that was all it took to silence him.

Well, not really silence him, but details weren’t necessary. Not when your plush lips were pressing against his neck like that. Hot, open mouthed. Insistent. Rousing. Dizzying. Intoxicating.

He’d be damned if he ever got enough.

His shirt was soon hanging open, tie discarded as the marks of that sexy lipstick shade littered his torso, and he wasn’t complaining. He definitely wasn’t complaining when you sank to your knees, unbuckling his belt as your tongue traced his abs. Didn’t dare when his slacks pooled to the floor, boxers dropping next, his hand tangling in your hair as-

“Hey.” Your fingers snapped in front of him, taking him out of his delightful daydream, however ill-timed. He swallowed, giving himself a once over. No tie discarded, no shirt undone, no lipstick marks and definitely no you looking so sexy on your knees for him. Having him whine for you.

That was a thought worth biting his lip to.

“You with me?” You continued, and upon his shaky nod, you gave him a weird look before continuing on with your briefing. He inwardly wiped sweat off his brow, thankful to whatever god was watching for the lucky save.

You were sipping a late-night decaf coffee as you contemplated the case again, dressed in your worst-looking pyjamas with an old tea stain on the front and fuzzy socks. Had you scoped the party properly, you could’ve clocked if big man Brierson was actually there. But he’d known, he’d known, and now everyone in Major Crimes was under investigation.

By you.

Well, and Agent Winchester, but you’d rather not think of him. You’re actually not quite sure what happened between you two, all that you broke your own rules for your heart to be broken too. You focused on your job, he had fun. Your cycle went that way.

You’d find a new case, he’d find a new girl. Both to busy yourselves so you wouldn’t have to think about each other, which worked until now.

You got a phone call, and you mindlessly picked it up, irritated as you were pulled from your contemplative thoughts. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

‘Dean, so nice to hear from you.’ You heard, his voice mimicking yours before switching back to his. ‘Wow, Agent, colour me surprised; it’s nice to hear from you too. How are you, Dean? I’m perfectly fine, sweetheart, how are you? You’re so polite.’

“Do I sound like someone to engage in small talk right now?” You deadpanned among chuckles at his own joke, putting your dinner - leftovers - in the microwave. God, you weren’t in the mood for this.

Eventually his snickers subsided, and he cleared his throat as you set the mug down. ‘Duly noted. You’re boring. Anyway, about the mole case. I think we should meet up in the office tomorrow to draw up a list of potential suspects.’

You took your warmed dinner, placing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you stabbed the spaghetti with a fork, chewing as you spoke. “And I think you’re insane. That’s the place we’re casing. Why in the hell would we start drafting up names there?”

You heard Dean clear his throat at the end of the line. ‘Right. Got it. My place?’ Truth is, Dean had been hoping you’d say anything but ‘let’s not draft at the office’. He was scared he’d lift you up on the nearest surface and do what he hadn’t the previous time, mark you, claim you and then let you claim him, mark him, wreck him. He didn’t know what you two were, or what you’d become.

Maybe strangers with very intense, deep seated sexual tension.

“What time?” You asked through yet another bite of spaghetti. You weren’t about to forgo dinner for this dude, cordiality be damned.

‘Tomorrow, straight after hours, just head to my place. Does that work for you?’

“Mm, yeah.” You nodded, setting down your plate to quickly note it in your schedule. “See you then, Agent Winchester.”

‘Call me Dean.’

“Agent Winchester.” It was the least you could do after how things got last time. Again, you’d rather not talk about it.

You walked into the DC office after registering, briefing with Agent Singer before heading to the break room, where you found Trainee Agent Harvelle, Trainee Agent Kevin Tran, Agent Benjamin Lafitte, Agent Garth Fitzgerald and Agent Sam Winchester.

You knew Sam. He was a damn sight more respectful and less… Dean-esque than his older brother. Smarter, yet less effective on brute force raids. For that, you needed Dean Winchester. Anything research, or hacking into databases, Sam was your guy.

“Agents.” You smiled awkwardly, not knowing how else to greet them as you went straight for the coffee pot. Thank the Lord for the petition to make the standard of coffee in that jug better that got the vote from every damn person in the department.

HR and Maintenance can suck it.

“Agent.” The rest of them replied, identically sipping cups of Joe.

“Agents.” Singer walked in, holding a file. “Briefing room. Now.” He walked out, and you all followed suit, taking your coffees with you because you needed the caffeine to sustain your brains. Once you all stepped into the briefing room, where Agent Winchester and Agent Nick Garrison were waiting.

Singer grunted, pulling up a slideshow on the board. “Let’s get this over with.” He showed bodies, robbed banks, hostage situations. “Six occurrences of organised crime over the past four weeks. All hitting major municipalities. Now it’s our jurisdiction.”

“What have we got from the crime scenes?” Agent S. Winchester asked, brow furrowed in thought.

“Nothing but this snake logo, spray painted at every scene.” Up comes a logo of a rearing cobra.

You shrugged, quickly figuring something out. “Well, that solves half of the mystery. They want our attention.”

“It is possible.”

“I think it’s a temper tantrum.” You snorted, pointing to the board. “Look at where they’re hitting. Large cities, maximum damage, it’s a cry out for our beady eyes. Leaving a logo at the scene? Someone either wants to get caught or lead us on.”

“Sounds kinda like girls at a bar.” Agent D. Winchester snickered, but earned a weird look from everyone in the room. “What? I make my own style of analogies, don’t come at me for it.”

“Who’s on the team, sir?” Lafitte asked, the man all slow drawl, suave talk and suspenders.

You pointed to Agent D. Winchester, smirking. “Leave him out, his main interests are girls and booze.”

“Blow me.” He scoffed in retaliation, glaring at you. That was a mistake on Dean’s part, cause he started to imagine it. Oh, that memory’s vivid as hell.

“Beg for it.” You shot back, and despite the steady inflation of awkwardness, he really had half a mind to beg for it, honour be damned to hell.

Pin drop silence. Shared smirks. Uncomfortable eye contact between you and Dean, your minds going to places they really shouldn’t.

Agent Singer cleared his throat, then continued talking. “I want you,” he pointed to you, “and the two Agent Winchesters and Agent Lafitte on it, and the two trainees Agent Tran and Harvelle to shadow. You’re dismissed, except for you two.”

Didn’t take a genius to know who ‘you two’ were.

So everyone but you and Agent D. Winchester filtered out, and the moment the door closed, you were both less bickering, head chopping and heart ripping. More on business.

“This is a good chance for you two to scout for our mole.” Singer looked between the two of you pointedly. “As much unknown history as you two have, you idjits need to set that aside. For the sake of our damn Major Crimes unit. Narcotics will give me hell if I don’t sort this out. And the board of directors will be less pleased that we’ve been compromised.”

“We understand, sir.” You nodded, understanding how goddamn serious this was. Lives were on the line. Your jobs, the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s maintained integrity. “We can put aside our differences, can’t we, daddy’s boy?” You smirked at Dean, then pretended to realise that you’d made a mistake. “Oh, my bad. Agent Winchester.”

Dean resisted a clapback with all his might. He didn’t care if their CO was right there, he’d bend you over this desk and show you who’s really in control here.

That would wipe the smirk off those pretty lips. Replace it with his claim over you.

“So, Dean, I wanna know.” Sam smirked, cracking open a beer and passing it to his older brother. “What’s with you and her?”

Dean scoffed, sipping the beer and shaking his head. “I’m asked this fifty times a day. There’s nothing going on here. We’re work colleagues. She’s incredibly annoying, and grating, and infuriating, and I’m extremely handsome.”

That got a wider smirk from Sam, a knowing one. “You knew who I was talking about.”

That caught Dean out, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Say what?”

“You have so many girls in your life that half of your contacts are women.” Sam raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. “But you knew who I was referencing first try.”

“Humour me, Sammy.” Dean grimaced, folding his arms. “How do you label intense sexual tension that was almost acted on yet it almost broke our personal set of rules? Hm? Thought so.”

“So, she’s kind of like an old flame.”

“That flame ain’t lit.”

Sam nodded slowly, giving a breathless chuckle and an inclination of his head. “Yeah. Sure.” He stepped out of the room to head upstairs, which alerted Dean of the implication. He rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Hey! Sammy!”

NEXT UP:

“Oh, honey, such a flirt!” You laughed in a posh accent, mimicking your mother’s laugh to the best of your ability while you swatted Dean’s chest. He smirked at the look in your eyes, because goddamn was it obvious that you hated this.

“Darlin’, I can’t help myself around you.” He turned to the other charity goers with a proud smirk, gesturing to all of you. “Can’t keep my hands off my gorgeous wife. Might have to have something off the menu for dessert, if you catch my drift.” He winked at some elderly ladies, who giggled and waved him off.

“Such a charming boy.” One cooed, obviously eyeing Dean up with poorly restrained envy. While you looked around for your target, you missed the way Dean’s eyes travelled down your body in that form-fitting red dress, v-neck, v-back, thigh slit where he knew you had a thigh holster strapped in, all the good stuff. And his eyes were on those scarlet heels.

He was imagining ramming into you with those sexy things on. And that dress, well, it’d be off in second if he had the chance. And that lipstick? Well, it’d be smeared and leaving prints on his neck, chest, abs and- that’s going a bit too unprofessional.

Like, comment or reblog! I’d love to hear your feedback. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@deanbrainrotwritings

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

To be added to any character’s taglist of mine, find my form on my master list.

[ldrsgroup]

Instagram is a marketing influencer hub and this is evident from the number of active users present on the platform. With over 2 billion active users, it becomes the fourth most popular social media app in the world. And this is something that advertisers should feel excited about.

[alwaysbewoke]

[rjzimmerman]

Excerpt from this Op-Ed from the New York Times:

At first glance, Xi Jinping seems to have lost the plot.

China’s president appears to be smothering the entrepreneurial dynamism that allowed his country to crawl out of poverty and become the factory of the world. He has brushed aside Deng Xiaoping’s maxim “To get rich is glorious” in favor of centralized planning and Communist-sounding slogans like “ecological civilization” and “new, quality productive forces,” which have prompted predictions of the end of China’s economic miracle.

But Mr. Xi is, in fact, making a decades-long bet that China can dominate the global transition to green energy, with his one-party state acting as the driving force in a way that free markets cannot or will not. His ultimate goal is not just to address one of humanity’s most urgent problems — climate change — but also to position China as the global savior in the process.

It has already begun. In recent years, the transition away from fossil fuels has become Mr. Xi’s mantra and the common thread in China’s industrial policies. It’s yielding results: China is now the world’s leading manufacturer of climate-friendly technologies, such as solar panels, batteries and electric vehicles. Last year the energy transition was China’s single biggest driver of overall investment and economic growth, making it the first large economy to achieve that.

This raises an important question for the United States and all of humanity: Is Mr. Xi right? Is a state-directed system like China’s better positioned to solve a generational crisis like climate change, or is a decentralized market approach — i.e., the American way — the answer?

How this plays out could have serious implications for American power and influence.

Look at what happened in the early 20th century, when fascism posed a global threat. America entered the fight late, but with its industrial power — the arsenal of democracy — it emerged on top. Whoever unlocks the door inherits the kingdom, and the United States set about building a new architecture of trade and international relations. The era of American dominance began.

Climate change is, similarly, a global problem, one that threatens our species and the world’s biodiversity. Where do Brazil, Pakistan, Indonesia and other large developing nations that are already grappling with the effects of climate change find their solutions? It will be in technologies that offer an affordable path to decarbonization, and so far, it’s China that is providing most of the solar panels, electric cars and more. China’s exports, increasingly led by green technology, are booming, and much of the growth involves exports to developing countries.

From the American neoliberal economic viewpoint, a state-led push like this might seem illegitimate or even unfair. The state, with its subsidies and political directives, is making decisions that are better left to the markets, the thinking goes.

But China’s leaders have their own calculations, which prioritize stability decades from now over shareholder returns today. Chinese history is littered with dynasties that fell because of famines, floods or failures to adapt to new realities. The Chinese Communist Party’s centrally planned system values constant struggle for its own sake, and today’s struggle is against climate change. China received a frightening reminder of this in 2022, when vast areas of the country baked for weeks under a record heat wave that dried up rivers, withered crops and was blamed for several heatstroke deaths.