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traveler-at-heart · 1 month

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Miss Communication

Summary: Natasha is avoiding the feelings talk so you use the only thing that seems to be working: jealousy.

A/N: This request and entire plot is from @happychopshoppenguin so all credit really goes to them. I just put into a few more words.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Stealthy, precise, lethal.

Well, what a load of crap. All Natasha Romanoff is, is a coward. There.

You’re so pissed off, all you want to do is open up her file and write “committment issues” under weaknesses.

But that’s not your job.

No, your job is intelligence and data analysis. Go over information, read endless reports and make a summary that the Avengers can understand, because they don’t have the time to sit around and do it themselves.

And now, you’re here, talking about a new terrorist organization with Steve. Natasha should be here, as second in command, but for reasons unknown to you and Captain America, she has failed to show up.

Again, coward.

Fine, if she doesn’t answer your texts you’ll find her anywhere she’s hiding in this big ass building.

“Hey, Y/N” Sam greets as you walk down the hall.

“Damn. Is it allowed to have guns in the kitchen area?” you smile mischiveously, used to flirting around with the team. He looks around, clearly confused and you reach out to touch his bicep. “I mean, what are they feeding you, Wilson? You’re as buff as Steve”

“Hell, yeah” he smiles, flexing and putting on a little show. You’re laughing and making small talk when someone magically appears, glaring.

Natasha is fuming and you don’t know if the anger is directed at you or Sam. Looking directly at her, you laugh and place a strand of hair behind your ear, as if Sam just said the funniest thing ever.

She can’t answer a fucking text but feels jealous? Well, good. At least you know she cares.

“You’re annoying her, Wilson” Bucky joins you, leaning against the kitchen island and giving you a crooked smile. “Hey, doll”

“Hi, handsome” you place your hands on each side of his face. “Can I tell you something?”

“Yeah” he says, practically drooling.

“I think you’d look really good if you cut your hair”

“I’ll think about it” he promises.

“Move aside, I’m taking Y/N out for lunch” Sam says, pushing Bucky.

“Oh, sweetheart. You can’t handle all of this” you tease. “But I won’t say no to lunch”

“That’s good enough for me” he agrees, offering his arm. You take it, winking at Bucky and walking away.

Natasha is already planning six different ways to make Wilson disappear, and Bucky goes to his room.

“Gotta get a haircut” he mumbles.

Oh, like hell.

Neither one of them can touch what’s hers.

—

Natasha: How was lunch?

Y/N: Oh, NOW you text me?

Y/N: We need to talk. Call me.

—

Natasha throws the phone across the room, feeling like screaming into her pillow. It still smells like you, which makes her heart ache.

If only she hadn’t been so stupid to ruin whatever it is you two had.

You were on top of her, riding her strap, as you had done so many times since you started your situationship. Hands on Natasha’s abdomen, feeling how her muscles worked to pump in and out of you.

“I love your tits” Natasha said, breathless. You nodded, bouncing harder, moaning desperately. “I love your pussy, it’s perfect for my cock”

“Baby, I’m so close” you whined, so desperate you barely registered her next words.

“I love you”

Eyes wide open, your movements stopped for a second. Before you could answer, Natasha flipped you and you were face down, ass in the air as she entered, pounding harder.

And you really wanted to ask what the fuck and if she really meant what she said, but you were so close that all you could do was moan her name and come hard around the strap.

You barely registered when Natasha pulled out. You felt empty and confused and so stretched.

“Nat? Babe, wait”

“I have to… I forgot a mission report, I’m sorry” she muttered, putting her clothes on and leaving in a hurry. She ran out of her own fucking room before owning what she said.

And now, she couldn’t even look at you. She couldn’t stand the idea that you would reject her.

The little hope that lingered in the back of her mind was the most painful feeling of all.

All she wanted was to be loved by you.

—

Call me means fucking call me.

It means don’t pretend nothing happened.

God, she’s so infuriating. And hot. And good at sex.

But mostly infuriating.

Now you’re back in the Compound, determined to get her to talk to you. Which is why you decided to wear your low cut dress and push up bra.

She said she loves your breasts, right? Well, here they fucking are.

You carry a bunch of binders that need filing, and they help cover your boobs as you enter the living room. Natasha is sitting, and you think she is almost ready to approach you when Sam beats her to it.

“Here, let me help you” Sam offers. The minute your cleavage comes to view, his eyes widen.

“Hey, doll” Bucky greets and you turn around. His mouth flails open, but all you can do is admire his new look.

“Buck, oh my God! You actually listened to me?” you run your hands through his hair, making it impossible for him to look away from your chest. “You look absolutely stunning. Good boy”

“Yeah, uh… I…”

The interaction annoys Natasha, but she knows you won’t even entertain the idea of doing anything with those two.

Her mood quickly changes when Carol appraches you. She's a whole different story.

“Carol, it’s been ages since you’ve been here! All I read are your mission briefings” you say, hugging her tight.

“Well, how bout I tell you everything I’ve been up to over dinner?” she offers with a smile.

“Y/N” Natasha finally snaps. “I missed this week’s report. Mind filling me in?”

“Sure thing” you pull away, reluctantly. “Be right back, Danvers”

Natasha leads you to the conference room and pushes you against the door as soon as you enter.

“Why must you be such a brat?” she whispers against your ear, biting down your earlobe.

“It's the only way to get your attention, Natasha” you protest, trying to sound upset.

You’re torn between lust and anger, but she’s such a good kisser that her lips make you forget everything that’s happened in the last few days.

“I should punish you” she threatens, going down your body and pulling the dress up. Who is she kidding? Her mouth is watering at the thought of tasting you. “Bet you’d love that”

Love.

The word pulls you out of your trance. Natasha is about to take your panties off when you stop her, pulling her away by her hair.

“We’re going to talk”

“You don’t make the calls here”

“Natasha, stop it. I’m serious”

You really don’t want her to stop, but you can’t keep wondering if she meant it.

You want her to mean it.

“Are you seriously gonna make a big deal about it?”

“Ugh, you drive me insane, Natasha. Why can’t you just admit what you said and whether or not you meant it? Do you even care about what I want?”

She stays silent and you groan, pulling up your dress and fixing your clothes.

“I really wanted to be more than just fuck buddies” you admit before going out. “But if the thought of loving me is so embarassing for you, then forget about it. I won’t force the feeling out of you”

Natasha stays behind, wondering how she got it all wrong.

You wanted her.

By the time she comes to her senses, you’re long gone. But Carol does meet her in the hallway, smiling.

“Hey, do you mind telling Cap I’m skipping our meeting? Y/N and I are having dinner”

“Sure” Natasha nods, feeling her stomach drop.

Now it’s too late and she lost you.

—

The second anniversary of the Sokovian Accords comes and goes in a flash. Natasha really wanted to skip it, go find you and apologize.

And yet, here she is, in the Quinjet, flying back to the Compound after two days of exhausting diplomacy.

“Why couldn’t we stay a few days in Paris?” Sam laments for the third time.

“New recruits are in the middle of their training” Barton says from the pilot seat. “At least they got a break these last couple of days”

“No, they didn’t” Wanda says. “Y/N is training them. Maria asked her to do it before we left”

“Y/N?” everyone says, looking at each other.

“But she’s a data analyst, not a field agent” Sam says.

“And the sweetest person ever” Bucky adds. He holds Natasha’s glare and smiles. Oh, he knows what’s up.

“Well, let’s make sure we put them back into shape when we get there” Steve slaps Bucky’s arm.

Boy, are they all wrong. When the team goes back to the Compound, you’re in the middle of a training session. A guy runs out of the gym, his shoulder crashing against Sam’s as he bolts for the exit.

“She’s fucking crazy, man” he says to himself, looking terrified.

“What the hell?”

Steve pushes the door to the gym. And there you are, in the middle of sparring. With one swift motion you kick the guy to the floor, and he puts his hands up, as if begging for mercy.

“Oh, we have company” you taunt, walking confidently around the students. “Anyone want to fight the Avengers? I promise you they’re not as hard to beat”

“Who is she and what has she done to Y/N?” Barton whispers.

Natasha has to hold back a moan. You look cold and deathly, having kicked all of their asses without breaking a sweat. That also explains why you’re so… bendy.

“Fine. Since none of you could even land a hit on me, you’re running ten laps. Don’t come back here unless you’ve thrown up or cried once”

All the recruits scramble to their feet, relieved now that they can get away from you. You turn around, giving the Avengers a challenging look.

“What? Wanna give it a try? I’ll go easy on you” you say. “Maybe not on Natasha, though. She hasn’t been a good girl”

“Ew” Wanda says, leaving the room. Between that and Natasha’s bendy thought, that was so loud she might as well have screamed it in the middle of the gym, she’s had enough.

“Alright, let’s see what you’ve got” Barton is the only one that steps up. You nod, evaluating his approach. He throws the first punch but it never lands. You move out of his way at record speed, keeping the contact at minimum while you kick the back of his legs, making him fall on his knees. Another three blows and Clint is face down on the mat.

“Pass” Sam says when you turn around to see who’s next.

“I’ll take my chances” Natasha says, stepping up. You smile in a way that makes a chill run down her spine.

Natasha thinks you can never go wrong with a classic move, so she throws her legs around your neck. But you block the movement and make her land on her back, hands pinned abover her head.

It happens at least three different times, each position becoming more sexual.

“I think we should leave” Bucky says.

“In a minute”

“Come on, Wilson” he forces him out the door, closing it for good measure and hoping you keep your clothes on before the recruits come back.

If they even come back.

“I promise you, you’re not gonna win this time, Natasha” you say, out of breath for the first time. Her eyes travel to your lips and you lean forward, stopping inches away from her mouth. “And I sure as hell ain’t letting you go without talking about that thing you said the other day”

“Please…”

“Now you’re polite. Now you say please. I’ve been chasing you for a fucking week to know if you like me for more than my tits and ass” you finally give in, kissing her for a few seconds. She whines against your mouth, trying to create friction. But your hold is too strong and she can’t move an inch without your permission.

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry. I was scared you’d reject me and then everything would be ruined forever between us. I love you, so damn much it scares me” Natasha finally breaks, surprising herself with the way she’s pouring her heart out to you.

But that’s how much she loves you and how much she needs you.

Her words leave you breathless and you smile, going back to being your usual self.

“Natasha, I love you so damn much, it drives me crazy. Please don’t ever doubt that, sweetheart”

She nods, her nose rubbing against yours and you finally do what you’ve been craving all week. You kiss her, gently at first, and then more passionately, your hands dropping from hers to let her hug you.

You moan against her mouth, Natasha’s tongue slipping inside.

“Fuck, baby, I need you” you moan, going back to being submissive for the redhead.

“What does my pretty girl want? My mouth or my fingers?”

“Just you, anything, please”

Thinking back to the last time she almost had you, her mouth waters and she decides to flip you on your back and travel down your body, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses and pulling down your shorts and underwear.

“All of this for me?” she asks, running her fingers up and down your slit, collecting your juices and sucking on her digit. “I missed your taste, princess”

“Nat, please” you cant your hips up, hoping she takes the hint. You’re too far gone to form a coherent sentence.

Natasha darts her tongue out. She moans at the taste, and snakes her arms around your thighs to keep you in place. Her tongue goes up and down, then deep inside you and you shudder.

You would almost feel embarrassed for lasting so little, but it’s not your fucking fault she was hiding for a week.

When you remember that, your hands go to her hair and you pull her closer. Natasha enjoys the roughness, her movements speeding up and pushing you over the edge.

You come, crying out her name and trembling. As you struggle to catch your breath, Natasha moves up, letting you taste yourself in her mouth.

“Hey, baby”

“Hey” you say, smiling.

“Can I take you out to dinner tonight? I’d like to make it up to you”

“Yes to dinner. And give me a couple more of those orgasms and we’ll call it even”

“That sounds like a deal” she smiles against your lips, eager to make up for the lost time.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n

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yoursweetwife · 4 months

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hi i’m absolutely brain rottimg about dr ratio while trying to complete a lab report

just thinking about his partner complaining about statistics and about how they despise statistical analysis. they’ve got this report to do (i wonder where this idea is coming from…) and they’re dreading it

he notices them furrowing their brows as they input data into this analysis program, cursing under their breath.

“aeons, why is this so confusing…? the graphs they use… why can’t i tell if…” they’re mumbling under their breath, absolutely confused. they’ve actually been at it for a while, and ratio *hates* to admit that he’s beginning to miss their presence…

so he goes up and pries the laptop out of their hands, with a soft mumble of ‘you’re an idiot’ under his breath.

“i’ll help you out. it’s better than watching you fumble with the data like an idiot.” he says softly, but he really is too embarrassed to admit he would literally do their whole lab report for them if they asked him.

just thinking of soft fluffy dr ratio begrudgingly helping his partner suffer through their lab work. as a reward they smother him in kisses and he hates to admit he enjoys seeing them so happy and thankful…

GET HIM OUT OF MY BRAIN!!! IM BRAINROTTING!! I WANT HIM DEAD /J

Sorry, it took me a long time to respond to your request. Since you didn't specify gender, I decided to take a female reader

synopsis: [name] was tired and Ratio decided to help his lover

frmale!reader

Sitting on the flock sofa, Ratio looked up from his book from time to time to look at his watch. From the outside it may seem that he is completely calm, but inside the scientist was trying to overcome his own anxiety. Only the rapid tapping of his fingers on the pages of the book betrayed his irritation.

Ratio ran his hand through his disheveled hair and sighed irritably. How long he's been sitting here? Ever since you told him to go to bed alone because you had a lab report to fill out, and Ratio knew how much you hated that, but you hated asking him for help even more. And no matter how much Veritas respected you for this, your absence began to bother him.

And Ratio hates this feeling, now even being alone in the room seems like some kind of torture, he’s used to your more physical displays of affection, cuddling against his side, resting your head on his shoulder..

Quiet rustling noises made Ratio glance displeasedly towards the kitchen. He put the book on the coffee table and headed into the next room, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Already at the door frame, his golden eyes met your tired figure. He could hear you irritably whispering curses under your breath while writing something down, and Ratio began to fear that you were about to cry, seeing your completely confused face and futile attempts to fill out the table.

You didn't even notice his bulky figure standing right in front of you, and his worried expression never reached your eyes. For a couple of seconds, he had the urge to throw the ill-fated laptop out the window.

"Oh, I don't understand...what.."

Here again, Ratio rubbed the bridge of his nose, and with light steps walked straight to the table, before you even had time to come to your senses, as the gadget slammed shut in front of your face, making you flinch.

Veritas stands at the side of the table, keeping his hand on the computer and staring irritably straight into your tired eyes. His whole body was tense, as evidenced by the bulging veins on his strong arms and twitching muscles, you almost thought that he was going to scold you for your idiocy, as if you were one of his students.

"Veritas, what are you doing?"

He interrupted your question and leaned closer to your face, and you involuntarily held your breath, avoiding his assessing gaze and waiting for the next words.

“Idiot, how long are you going to rack your brain over such basic things? If you continue to stare mindlessly at the screen, knowledge will not appear in your head automatically.”

Ratio crossed his arms over his chest and looked at you expectantly. You laughed awkwardly and leaned back in your chair, relaxing for the first time in hours.

“What else could I do but stare mindlessly?”

You decided to joke to diffuse the tension. But your lover seemed to take it seriously and pointed to himself proudly.

"For example, asking me for help."

The look of surprise your face did not go unnoticed, but almost immediately it was replaced by a slight smile. Ratio's face relaxed a little, and his cheeks turned a light crimson shade.He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure.

"I'll help you. It's better than watching you fiddle with data like an idiot."

In just a second he was sitting next to you, opening laptop to see what he had to work with. For aeons, he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible and be in a soft bed with you in his arms.

You silently watched Veritas’s actions, listening to his explanations, but your thoughts constantly went somewhere else. Contrary to popular belief, Ratio is quite a cute lover, especially in the mornings when he is too sleepy to try to act cool and confident. And his attempts to hide his need for you are adorable.

Soon the work was almost finished, and you even learned something during this time and helped Veritas, for which you received a dry “not bad,” but pride was visible in his eyes.

You couldn't help but yawn, causing tears to form in your eyes. Your lover shook his head softly. His sweet troubled woman.

"Time for bed, you look like you might faint from exhaustion."

“Thank you, Veritas, now I’ll clean everything up and we’ll go...”

Just as you reached for the mess on the table, Veritas stopped your hand, gently grabbing your wrist, and looked at you sternly.

"I'm pretty sure it can wait until tomorrow."

"But..."

With his free hand, Veritas lifted your chin while the other rested on your waist.

"No "but", we're going to the room now and you won't get out of bed until the next morning."

Ratio said, draw out each word. A deep blush filled your cheeks, for the first time Veritas looked so...needy, and he also seemed surprised by his own words.

Veritas let go of you almost immediately and turned away, trying to hide his red face, but you prevented him by grabbing both of his hands.

“It seems like I never thanked you for your help, does it?”

Your soft hands came to rest on his face, pulling him closer to place a light but passionate kiss on his lips. And Veritas wasted no time in deepening the kiss, leaning into your soothing touch.

If you always thank him like that, then he is ready to fill out thousands of such reports.

You soon broke contact and a few more quick kisses landed on his cheeks, forehead and nose, causing him to protest, but despite the outward hostility, Veritas clearly wanted more, and you were going to give it to him.

#hsr x reader #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio #female reader #hsr #dr ratio fluff #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader

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liiifenet · 7 months

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"Unlocking the Mysteries of Adrenal Burnout: A Guide to Understanding HTMA and Hair Mineral Analysis"

Are you feeling constantly exhausted, overwhelmed, and struggling to cope with everyday stressors? You might be experiencing adrenal burnout, a condition where prolonged stress takes a toll on your adrenal glands, leading to a cascade of symptoms affecting your physical and mental well-being. But how can you confirm if adrenal burnout is indeed the culprit behind your symptoms? This is where Hair Tissue Mineral Analysis (HTMA) comes into play.

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One of the hallmark indicators of adrenal burnout on an HTMA test is copper toxicity. Copper is essential for various physiological processes, but excessive levels can be toxic and disrupt adrenal function. HTMA can detect elevated copper levels and assess your body's ability to regulate copper metabolism, providing valuable insights into adrenal health.

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The Hair Mineral Analysis test, or HTMA, is a powerful tool for assessing adrenal burnout and guiding personalized interventions for recovery. By understanding the stages of adrenal burnout and interpreting HTMA reports effectively, you can take proactive steps towards restoring adrenal health and achieving overall well-being.

Copper Toxicity on a HTMA Test

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In summary, understanding adrenal burnout and its stages through HTMA empowers you to take proactive steps towards recovery and reclaiming your vitality. With the insights gained from HTMA, you can tailor your approach to address underlying imbalances and support your adrenal health effectively. Don't let adrenal burnout hold you back - take charge of your health journey with HTMA today.

#hair analysis report #copper toxicity on a HTMA test #adrenal burnout stages in htma Sheffield #adrenal burnout on a HTMA test #HTMA Patterns #Retest HTMA Charts #Order a Hair Mineral Analysis Test #htma test #htma

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mywitchyblog · 2 months

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Reality Shifting and Race Changing Explained: A Deep and Comprehensive Analysis of the Practice through the Perspective of a Person of Color.

Introduction :

Reality shifting, a practice where individuals consciously move their awareness to alternate realities or dimensions, has gained significant popularity and attention. Within this phenomenon, race changing—where shifters assume a different racial identity in their Desired Reality (DR)—has become a particularly contentious topic. Proponents of race changing see it as a way to explore different perspectives, foster empathy, and experience personal growth. However, critics raise concerns about cultural appropriation, identity integrity, and ethical implications. This essay will delve into the shifter's perspective and debunk arguments against race changing in reality shifting, examining the diverse viewpoints and underlying controversies.

Disclaimer : before interacting pls read the entire post carefully if you do not understand a part of it do not hesistate to tell me and i would gladly explain you in more details.

And as the title says im a person of color (POC) so i will give my opinion on the matter. I am lowkey (more high key lol) pissed that i see white people telling and talking about it as if they opinion is law its time you let people directly concerned by the matter speak on a subject that concerns them.

Taglist of people who might be interested in this post that i will update progressively i will also at the end provide a pdf version of the document if this post reaches 100 reactions if it reaches 150 to 200 i will also provide the one against age changing) :

@shiftinghoe @shiftersroom @leydenkilgore @jolynesmom @shiftinginferno @norumis @angelscatastrophe @thanossnap

My Age changing Post for those interested

Masterlist

Part I: The Shifter's Perspective

A-Immersive Nature of Reality Shifting

Reality shifting goes beyond elaborate daydreaming or role-playing. It's a full-fledged immersive experience where individuals become their "Desired Reality" (DR) selves entirely. This deep embodiment isn't just physical; it encompasses cultural, emotional, and even historical elements.

Shifters often perceive themselves with entirely different physical characteristics in their DR. This goes beyond appearance – they feel comfortable and familiar in their new bodies, experiencing unique sensations and abilities tied to their DR race. Imagine an East Asian shifter feeling their epicanthic folds affecting their vision or an Afro-Caribbean shifter experiencing the textures of their hair and the specific needs of their skin.

But it's not just physical. Shifters become integrated members of their DR culture. They might find themselves fluent in the language, complete with cultural nuances and dialects. They possess an intrinsic understanding of traditions and social norms, not just intellectually, but on a lived level. Family histories, community connections, and social networks become as real and meaningful as those in their original reality.

Perhaps the most profound aspect is the emotional and psychological alignment. Shifters report feeling emotions differently based on their DR cultural background. Their worldview, values, and beliefs shift to reflect their new identity, offering unique perspectives. Many even have a full set of memories associated with their DR life, from childhood experiences to major events.

Shifters don't just inhabit a new identity; they become part of a complex historical and societal narrative. They understand the weight of historical events that shaped their DR community and experience firsthand the societal advantages or disadvantages of their DR race. They feel a deep sense of cultural pride alongside the challenges and discrimination that may come with it.

For example, a Japanese shifter might not only speak the language fluently but also understand the intricacies of keigo and feel the emotional weight of concepts like "gaman" or "uchi-soto." They could have memories of local festivals, the excitement of catching goldfish, or the solemnity of a New Year's visit.

Similarly, a Latinx shifter might effortlessly switch between languages, understand the cultural significance of quinceañeras, and feel a deep connection to their abuela's traditions. They could have vivid memories of family gatherings filled with traditional foods, laughter-filled conversations, and the warmth of close family bonds.

This immersive experience allows shifters to see the world through a completely different lens, gaining insights otherwise impossible. In their DR, their new identity isn't a costume – it's as authentic and valid as their original self. This creates a profound sense of belonging and allows them to explore different aspects of identity in a meaningful way. This depth of experience is what proponents of race changing in reality shifting often highlight as a potential benefit.

B-Personal Growth and Empathy Development

Reality shifting, particularly when it involves changing race, offers a powerful pathway for personal growth and empathy development. Proponents believe this to be one of its most valuable benefits. Here's a breakdown of its potential:

Expanded Perspective: Shifters inhabit a different racial identity, gaining visceral, firsthand experiences. Imagine a Black shifter feeling the sting of racism, or an Asian shifter navigating the pressures of the "model minority" stereotype. This fosters a deeper understanding of racial dynamics beyond textbook knowledge.

Cultural Competence: Shifters become immersed in a new cultural context, enhancing their cultural competence. They gain insights into cultural nuances, values, communication styles, and nonverbal cues. For instance, a shifter embodying a Middle Eastern identity might understand the significance of hospitality, appreciating the cultural roots of seemingly excessive generosity.

Challenging Biases: The immersive nature of shifting exposes personal biases. Shifters confront and work through unconscious biases and stereotypes that may seem harmless from the outside, but feel hurtful or limiting from a different perspective. This uncomfortable process can be ultimately transformative.

Emotional Intelligence: Experiencing life through a different racial lens boosts emotional intelligence. Shifters develop empathy for the struggles and joys specific to different races, better understand emotional cues across cultures, and gain enhanced self-awareness through reflecting on their reactions in their new identity.

Social Justice Awareness: Shifters often report a heightened commitment to social justice and equity. Experiencing discrimination firsthand motivates them to become allies in their original reality. Understanding privilege (or lack thereof) associated with different races fosters nuanced discussions about systemic inequality.

Personal Identity Exploration: Race changing in shifting can prompt deep reflection on personal identity. Shifters might question aspects of their original identity, explore their cultural heritage and family history, and gain a greater appreciation for the fluidity and constructed nature of racial categories.

Linguistic and Cognitive Benefits: Shifters who become fluent in new languages experience cognitive benefits like enhanced cognitive flexibility from thinking in different linguistic frameworks and improved problem-solving skills as they navigate cultural and linguistic differences.

Artistic and Creative Inspiration: The rich experiences gained through race changing can serve as a wellspring of artistic and creative inspiration. Writers might create more authentic characters, while visual artists gain new perspectives on color, form, and cultural symbolism.

Professional Development: Insights gained through race changing can translate into professional growth. Shifters develop a stronger ability to work in diverse teams, enhance their cross-cultural communication and negotiation skills, and gain a deeper understanding that can be valuable in multicultural environments.

Healing and Trauma Processing: In some cases, embodying different racial identities has helped shifters process personal or intergenerational trauma. For instance, a shifter with a family history of racial oppression might find healing in embodying an identity free from that specific trauma. Conversely, embodying an identity that has experienced historical trauma might help shifters connect with and process their own unrelated traumatic experiences.

Part II: Debunking Arguments Against Race Changing

A-Cultural Appropriation

One of the primary arguments against race changing in reality shifting is that it constitutes cultural appropriation. This issue is complex and sensitive, requiring careful consideration.

Cultural appropriation involves adopting elements from one culture by members of another, often without a full understanding or respect for the original culture. This practice is typically characterized by a power imbalance, where the appropriating group holds more social, political, or economic power than the culture being appropriated. It also involves a lack of attribution, where the source of cultural elements is not acknowledged, leading to stereotyping and commodification of cultural symbols, often out of context and for profit.

Applying this argument to reality shifting, critics assert that when individuals assume a different racial identity in their desired reality (DR), they may trivialize the lived experiences of that racial group. They argue that such individuals might cherry-pick enjoyable aspects of the culture while avoiding its challenges and potentially reinforcing stereotypes or misconceptions about the culture.

However, several counterarguments challenge this perspective. Many shifters approach race changing with the intention of understanding and empathizing with different racial identities, rather than exploiting them. The immersive nature of shifting often involves a deep engagement with the culture, as opposed to the superficial adoption of isolated elements.

Moreover, cultural appropriation typically involves a dominant culture taking from a marginalized one, but in shifting, this power dynamic isn’t present. Shifters embody the new identity fully, integrating their experiences into the fabric of the DR, which can make their engagement more authentic.

Unlike typical cases of cultural appropriation, shifters often report experiencing both the positive and negative aspects of their new racial identity, including potential discrimination and societal challenges. This level of immersion extends far beyond wearing traditional clothing or using cultural symbols, as it involves a comprehensive engagement with the culture's values, traditions, and worldview.

Reality shifting is a personal and introspective practice, usually conducted privately or in small groups, rather than as a public display that might perpetuate stereotypes or commercialize the culture. This personal and nuanced approach differentiates it from more harmful forms of cultural appropriation seen in popular culture or commercial contexts.

Despite these counterarguments, there are still ethical concerns to consider. The ability to "opt out" of a racial identity at will is a privilege not available to those who live that identity full-time. There is also a risk of oversimplification or misrepresentation, even with the best intentions. The personal nature of shifting does not negate the potential for internalized stereotypes or biases to influence the experience.

Instead of viewing race changing in shifting as clear-cut cultural appropriation, it might be more accurate to see it as a complex form of cultural engagement. This practice has the potential for both positive outcomes, such as increased empathy and understanding, and negative outcomes, like reinforcing stereotypes or trivializing experiences. It requires careful reflection and ethical consideration from practitioners and might be evaluated on a case-by-case basis, considering the shifter's intent, approach, and outcomes.

The argument that race changing in reality shifting constitutes cultural appropriation could be seen as a false analogy fallacy, inaccurately equating the personal, immersive, and often respectful experience of shifting with the exploitative and superficial nature of cultural appropriation as traditionally understood. Some proponents suggest that, when conducted respectfully and thoughtfully, race changing in shifting could be seen as a form of cultural exchange rather than appropriation. This perspective posits that the immersive nature of shifting fosters genuine understanding and appreciation, with shifters often feeling a responsibility to respect and honor the cultures they embody. The insights gained can contribute to more meaningful cross-cultural dialogue and understanding in the shifter's original reality.

In conclusion, while the argument against race changing in reality shifting raises important ethical considerations, the issue is more nuanced than it might initially appear. The deeply personal and immersive nature of shifting, coupled with the often sincere intent of practitioners to gain understanding and empathy, sets it apart from more straightforward cases of cultural appropriation. Nevertheless, it remains crucial for shifters to approach the practice with respect, self-reflection, and a willingness to grapple with its complex ethical implications.

B-Fetishization

Another significant criticism of race changing in reality shifting is that it may lead to or represent a form of racial fetishization. This concern is both sensitive and complex, and warrants a thorough examination.

Racial fetishization involves reducing individuals to stereotypical racial characteristics, objectifying people based on their race or ethnicity, and exoticizing racial features or cultural elements. Often, though not always, it includes a sexual component. Critics argue that race changing in shifting might encourage shifters to focus on stereotypical or exoticized aspects of a race, leading to a superficial engagement with racial identity that is more fantasy than reality. This practice could potentially reinforce harmful stereotypes or racial preferences.

However, several counterarguments challenge this perspective. Many shifters who engage in race changing are not primarily motivated by sexual desire or attraction to stereotypical racial attributes. Their goal is often to understand and embody the full spectrum of experiences associated with a different racial identity, rather than to indulge in fantasy or stereotypes. The immersive nature of reality shifting encourages shifters to deeply engage with and appreciate the culture they are exploring. This process frequently fosters empathy and understanding, rather than objectification, as shifters report experiencing both positive and negative aspects of their new racial identity, extending beyond surface-level engagement.

Additionally, many shifters approach race changing as a means of personal growth, aiming to challenge their own biases and expand their worldview. This experience often leads to increased cultural sensitivity and awareness, rather than reinforcing stereotypes. In their desired reality (DR), shifters often experience a fully realized and complex identity that includes family histories, cultural practices, societal challenges, and individual personality traits, going far beyond mere racial characteristics.

Despite these counterarguments, it is important to acknowledge potential risks. Shifters might unknowingly bring racial stereotypes or biases into their DR experiences. There is also a risk of focusing on more "appealing" aspects of a racial identity while downplaying its challenges or complexities. The ability to "try on" different racial identities at will is a privilege that could lead to a form of racial tourism if not approached thoughtfully.

From a psychological standpoint, the experience of race changing in shifting could be seen as a form of identity exploration rather than fetishization. It serves as an exercise in perspective-taking and empathy development and provides an opportunity to confront and work through internalized racial biases.

Culturally, it is worth considering whether race changing practices in shifting might lead to more nuanced representations of diverse racial identities in media and art, foster more open dialogue about race and identity in society, or risk oversimplifying complex racial issues.

Ethically, shifters should be encouraged to reflect critically on their motivations and experiences, seek diverse perspectives and real-world knowledge about the races they embody in their DR, and be mindful of the line between appreciation and fetishization. The argument that race changing in reality shifting constitutes fetishization could be seen as a straw man fallacy, as it misrepresents the shifters' intentions and the nature of their experiences, reducing a complex and often empathetic practice to a simplistic and objectifying one.

Some proponents argue that race changing in shifting could help deconstruct harmful racial categories by highlighting the constructed nature of race, encouraging people to see beyond racial stereotypes, and fostering a more fluid understanding of identity. Comparing this practice to other activities, such as actors portraying characters of different races, virtual reality experiences designed to foster racial empathy, or imagining oneself in someone else’s shoes through literature or film, reveals that race changing in shifting may differ fundamentally from these practices in its approach and intent.

In conclusion, while the criticism of fetishization raises important concerns about the potential risks of race changing in reality shifting, a closer examination reveals a more nuanced picture. The deeply personal and often transformative nature of these experiences, combined with the typical intent of fostering understanding and empathy, sets it apart from more straightforward cases of racial fetishization. Nevertheless, it is essential for shifters to approach the practice with self-awareness, respect, and a commitment to genuine cultural engagement rather than superficial or stereotypical representations.

C-Race Changing is Racist

The argument that race changing in reality shifting is fundamentally racist is a serious allegation that requires careful examination. This perspective is based on several concerns: it may trivialize the real struggles and discrimination faced by racial minorities, allow individuals to "play" at being another race without encountering the associated societal challenges, perpetuate the idea that race is something that can be donned or discarded at will, and reinforce the notion that race is merely about physical characteristics or stereotypical behaviors. This criticism often stems from worries about cultural insensitivity, fears of minimizing systemic racism, and the historical context of racist practices such as blackface and yellowface.

However, this argument can be contested on multiple grounds. Firstly, many shifters engage in race changing not to mock or belittle other races but to gain a deeper understanding and empathy for those experiences. The immersive nature of shifting often results in increased awareness of racial issues and a stronger commitment to anti-racism in the shifter's original reality. Furthermore, shifters in their desired reality (DR) often experience life as an integrated part of the culture they embody, including facing discrimination and navigating societal challenges associated with that racial identity. This depth of experience goes beyond superficial engagement.

Additionally, race changing can lead to significant personal transformation. Many shifters report profound growth, challenging their own biases and increasing their cultural competence. These experiences foster a deep sense of connection and solidarity with different racial groups. Race changing could also be viewed as an immersive form of education about racial experiences, potentially offering more impactful learning than traditional methods.

Despite these counterarguments, it is crucial to acknowledge potential issues. Shifters have the privilege of opting out of their new racial identity and returning to their original reality, a luxury not available to those who face racism daily. There is also a risk of oversimplifying complex racial experiences into simplified narratives. Without proper reflection, shifters might misuse or misrepresent aspects of the racial identities they embody.

To address these concerns, shifters engaging in race changing should approach the practice with humility and a willingness to learn. Complementing their shifting experiences with real-world education about racial issues and using insights gained to actively combat racism in their original reality can help mitigate potential problems. Critical reflection on their experiences and motivations is also essential.

From a psychological perspective, race changing in shifting can be seen as a form of perspective-taking, which has been shown to reduce prejudice, an exercise in empathy development, and a way to confront and work through unconscious racial biases. Sociologically, it is worth considering whether widespread engagement in race changing might lead to increased racial empathy, contribute to a more nuanced understanding of race as a social construct, or challenge existing racial categories.

A comparative analysis with other practices such as diversity training programs, role-playing exercises in anti-racism workshops, and the concept of "passing" in racial identity reveals that race changing in shifting might differ fundamentally in its approach and intent. The argument that race changing is inherently racist may be seen as a hasty generalization fallacy, drawing broad conclusions based on limited understandings of shifters' experiences and motivations.

Some proponents argue that, when approached thoughtfully, race changing in shifting could be an antiracist practice by fostering a deeper understanding of diverse racial experiences, motivating action against racism in the shifter’s original reality, and challenging fixed racial categories. Considering how race changing intersects with other aspects of identity, such as gender, class, or sexuality, further complicates the discussion and could lead to a more nuanced understanding of intersectional identities.

In conclusion, while the argument that race changing in reality shifting is inherently racist raises important ethical concerns, a closer examination suggests a more complex picture. The potential for increased empathy, understanding, and antiracist action indicates that, when approached thoughtfully and ethically, race changing in shifting might contribute to combating racism rather than perpetuating it.

Part III: Community Dynamics :

A. Shiftok Culture and Hypocrisy

The community of shifters on platforms like Shiftok has become a significant space for discussing and sharing experiences related to reality shifting. However, this community is often marked by striking inconsistencies in its attitudes and practices, particularly when it comes to race changing. These inconsistencies reveal underlying biases and a selective application of ethical standards within the community.

One of the most glaring examples of this hypocrisy is the community's disparate treatment of shifts involving fictional races versus real-world racial identities. Users enthusiastically support and celebrate shifts into races from popular fiction, such as elves from "Lord of the Rings" or Veela from "Harry Potter." These shifts often involve adopting stereotypical characteristics of these races, such as ethereal beauty or magical abilities, without any criticism. Similarly, shifts into anime characters, even when these characters are explicitly Japanese or of other Asian ethnicities, are widely accepted and applauded.

In stark contrast, when a user mentions shifting to experience life as a different real-world race - for example, a white person shifting to be Black, or an Asian person shifting to be Latino - they often face harsh criticism and accusations of racism or cultural appropriation. This double standard extends to cultural practices as well. Users might criticize someone for shifting to experience a traditional Japanese tea ceremony as a Japanese person, calling it appropriation. However, they remain silent when shifters adopt fantastical versions of cultural practices, such as magical rituals in The Vampire Diaries Universe, which are often based on real-world cultural elements such as Hoodoo and Voodoo.

The inconsistency becomes even more apparent when considering shifts into races that face oppression or discrimination in their fictional universes. Shifting to be a Na'vi from "Avatar," who face colonization and violence from humans, or becoming a vampire who must hide from hunters and deal with societal prejudice, are widely accepted and even romanticized. These shifts often involve experiencing fictional forms of racism or oppression, yet they don't receive the same scrutiny as shifts involving real-world racial experiences.

This romanticization of struggle is particularly problematic. Users might enthusiastically describe the thrill of being a hunted vampire or the nobility of fighting against oppression as a Na'vi, while simultaneously criticizing those who wish to explore real-world experiences of discrimination through shifting. This glamorization of fictional oppression trivializes real-world struggles and reveals a lack of critical thinking about the implications of different types of identity shifts.

The community's acceptance of shifts into historical periods further highlights this hypocrisy. Shifting to experience life in different historical eras, which inevitably involves a change in cultural context, is generally supported. For instance, shifting to be a noble in Victorian England is rarely questioned, while shifting to be a person of color in modern-day America might be condemned. This inconsistency reveals a troubling bias in how the community views and values different cultural and racial experiences.

Perhaps the most striking example of this double standard is the widespread acceptance of shifting to become a Na'vi from the movie "Avatar." This shift involves taking on a completely different racial identity, often with spiritual and cultural elements inspired by real-world Indigenous cultures. Yet, this is rarely criticized, while shifting to be an actual Indigenous person would likely face significant backlash.

These inconsistencies in the Shiftok community undermine the credibility of criticisms against race changing and point to a need for more consistent and reflective ethical standards within the shifting community. They reveal that many users are more comfortable with the idea of exploring different identities and experiences of oppression when they're framed as "fictional," even though the immersive nature of shifting means these experiences are just as real to the shifter as any "real-world" shift would be.

This hypocrisy not only stifles meaningful dialogue about race and identity within the context of shifting but also reflects broader societal discomfort with addressing real-world racial issues. It highlights the need for the shifting community to engage in more nuanced, thoughtful discussions about the ethics of identity exploration, the nature of reality in shifting, and the responsibilities that come with experiencing different racial and cultural perspectives.

B. Judgmental Attitudes and Ignorance

The shifting community, particularly on platforms like Shiftok, often displays a complex web of judgmental attitudes and ignorance about the nuances of shifting practices. This creates a challenging environment for shifters exploring different identities, especially when it comes to race changing. (in this part and all the other parts of this essay, “real world”=CR aka this reality ik they are no such thing as the “real world” but for the sake of the argument i employed that term).

Many users within the community are quick to condemn those who shift into different racial identities, particularly when these involve real-world races. This rush to judgment often stems from a superficial understanding of shifting practices and a lack of empathy for the motivations behind such explorations. Harsh comments, gatekeeping behaviors, and in extreme cases, online harassment, have become unfortunately common responses to shifters who engage in race changing.

However, this judgmental attitude is starkly contrasted by the community's acceptance and even celebration of shifts into fictional races or non-human identities. This inconsistency reveals a deep-seated ignorance about the nature of shifting and its implications. Users often justify their acceptance of shifts into fictional races like Elves or vampires from various mythologies by arguing that since these races are fictional, they're somehow "safer" or less problematic to explore. This reasoning, however, fundamentally misunderstands the core principle of shifting: that all realities, whether based on fiction or the "real world," are equally real and valid from the perspective of the shifter.

This ignorance leads to a troubling double standard. Shifters who explore the experiences of fictional races facing discrimination - like the Na'vi battling colonization or werewolves hiding from hunters - are often met with enthusiasm. The community readily engages with these narratives of struggle and oppression when framed in a fictional context. Yet, when shifters attempt to explore real-world experiences of racial discrimination, they face harsh criticism and accusations of appropriation or fetishization.

This attitude demonstrates a lack of critical thinking about the ethical implications of different types of shifts. The community fails to recognize that from the perspective of shifting theory, the distinction between "fictional" and "real-world" races becomes arbitrary. The experiences of discrimination, cultural immersion, and identity exploration are just as real and impactful for a shifter whether they're embodying a Na'vi or shifting into a different human race.

Moreover, this ignorance extends to a misunderstanding of the depth and complexity of shifting experiences. Many critics within the community underestimate how fully shifters can embody and experience a different identity, regardless of whether it's fictional or based on a real-world race. They often fail to grasp the profound impact these experiences can have on a shifter's perspective, empathy, and personal growth.

The judgmental attitudes and ignorance prevalent in the community have serious consequences. They stifle open and honest discussions about race and identity within the shifting context. Shifters who feel judged may withdraw from the community or hide their experiences, limiting opportunities for collective learning and growth. The hostile environment can discourage exploration of different identities, potentially limiting the personal growth and empathy development that shifting can facilitate.

Furthermore, this environment of judgment and ignorance often leads to the mischaracterization of shifting experiences. Complex and nuanced explorations of identity are frequently oversimplified or dismissed. The potential benefits of respectful identity exploration through shifting are overlooked, while stereotypes about shifting and shifters are reinforced.

To address these issues, there's a clear need for more education within the community about the nuances and complexities of shifting experiences. Promoting a deeper understanding of the psychological and experiential aspects of shifting could foster more empathy and less judgment. Creating spaces for open, non-judgmental discussions about controversial shifting practices could help combat ignorance and promote a more nuanced understanding of the ethical implications of different types of shifts.

By confronting these judgmental attitudes and areas of ignorance, the shifting community has the opportunity to create a more inclusive, understanding, and supportive environment. This could not only improve the experiences of individual shifters but also contribute to more nuanced and productive discussions about identity, race, and the ethics of shifting practices. Ultimately, addressing these issues is crucial for the growth and maturation of the shifting community as a whole.

C-Understanding Morality and Multiracial Identity in Shifting

The concept of infinite realities in shifting brings about profound implications for our understanding of morality and identity, particularly when it comes to race. Each Desired Reality (DR) has its own unique set of morals and cultural norms, presenting a challenge when applying Original Reality (OR) ethics to these varied experiences. This moral relativism in shifting creates a complex landscape where what is considered ethically acceptable in one reality may not hold the same value in another.

The shifting community's approach to fictional races inadvertently highlights this moral complexity. Many shifters enthusiastically embrace identities like Na'vi from "Avatar" or vampires from various mythologies, often without the same level of ethical scrutiny applied to shifts involving CR races. This discrepancy reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of the nature of shifting itself. If we accept the core principle that all realities are equally real and valid, then the distinction between "fictional" and "real-world" races becomes very blurry to a point where said distinction vanishes since what is fictional in this reality is 100% real in that DR.

This paradox becomes even more apparent when we consider that many of these fictional races face discrimination, oppression, or complex social challenges within their realities. Shifters who take on these identities are, in essence, experiencing forms of racism or societal prejudice, yet these experiences are often romanticized or seen as less problematic than explorations of real-world racial discrimination. The Na'vi fighting against human colonization or Mutants from the X-men hiding from societal persecution are, within the context of shifting, as real and significant as any historical or contemporary struggle against oppression.

The romanticization of these fictional races raises its own set of moral questions. For instance, the glorification/romanticisation of vampire culture in shifting could be seen as problematic on multiple levels. It potentially trivializes issues of consent and power imbalances, and could even be construed as a form of necrophilia, given the undead nature of vampires (vampires are dead not alive ergo necrophilia in a way. This argument that I use is to further emphasize the hypocrisy of the shifting community since yall wanna talk about fetishization and romanticisation). This level of ethical scrutiny is rarely applied to fictional race shifts, despite the community's readiness to criticize CR race changing on similar grounds.

For multiracial shifters, this moral landscape becomes even more complex. A multiracial individual might choose to shift to embody only one aspect of their racial heritage in their DR, reflecting their sense of connection and belonging to that part of their identity. This choice doesn't negate their other racial identities but rather reflects the fluid and personal nature of racial identity itself. However, the community's inconsistent approach to race in shifting can create additional challenges for these individuals. They may find themselves navigating not only their own complex identities but also the arbitrary distinctions and judgments imposed by the community.

The multiracial shifting experience underscores the limitations of rigid racial categorizations and highlights the need for a more nuanced understanding of race and identity within the shifting community. It challenges shifters to consider how their experiences across different realities might inform and expand their understanding of racial identity in their OR.

Moreover, the moral relativism inherent in shifting raises questions about the nature of ethical growth through these experiences. If a shifter encounters and adapts to vastly different moral frameworks across their DRs, how does this impact their core ethical beliefs? This moral fluidity could lead to a more nuanced and empathetic worldview, but it also risks ethical inconsistency or moral relativism taken to an extreme.

In conclusion, the intersection of morality and racial identity in shifting presents a rich area for exploration and discussion. It challenges our understanding of ethics, identity, and the nature of reality itself. By engaging with these complex ideas, the shifting community has the opportunity to foster more nuanced, empathetic, and inclusive approaches to race and identity. However, this requires a willingness to apply consistent ethical standards across all forms of shifting, whether they involve "real" or "fictional" races, and a commitment to deeper reflection on the moral implications of these profound experiences.

Conclusion :

Ultimately, we can argue that race changing in reality shifting isn't inherently problematic and can, in fact, be a powerful tool for personal and societal growth. The ability to experience life from diverse racial perspectives has the potential to challenge deeply ingrained biases, foster genuine empathy, and contribute to more nuanced discussions about race and identity in our society.

However, we must tread carefully to ensure that these practices do not veer into appropriation or fetishization. This requires:

Approaching race changing with respect, humility, and a genuine desire to learn.

Engaging in thorough self-reflection before, during, and after shifting experiences.

Complementing shifting experiences with real-world education about racial issues and histories.

Being mindful of the privilege inherent in being able to "opt out" of a racial identity.

Using insights gained from shifting to actively combat racism and promote understanding in one's original reality.

Fostering open, honest dialogues within the shifting community about ethics and best practices.

Developing clear community guidelines that address the complexities of race changing.

By maintaining this careful balance, race changing in reality shifting can serve as a unique and valuable tool for promoting intercultural understanding, challenging racial prejudices, and fostering a more empathetic and inclusive society. As with any powerful tool, its value lies not in the practice itself, but in how we choose to use it. With thoughtful consideration and ethical guidance, race changing in shifting has the potential to contribute positively to our ongoing dialogues about race, identity, and human experience.

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting #desired reality #shifting community #shifting realities #shifters #reality shift #reality shifter

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insights10-marketing · 4 months

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Canada Alopecia Therapeutics (Hair Loss) Market Report 2022 to 2030

The Canada Alopecia (Hair Loss) Therapeutics Market was valued at US $0.65 Bn in 2022, and is predicted to grow at (CAGR) of 7.50% from 2023 to 2030, to US $1.17 Bn by 2030. The key drivers of this industry include the upward trend in the prevalence of Alopecia (hair loss), improved treatment options. The industry is primarily dominated by players such as Eli Lilly, Pfizer, Allergan, Valeant, Bayer, Roche, AbbVie among others.

#canada #market analysis #market forecast #market research #market insights #market report #hair loss #therapeutics market #alopecia #treatment

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violetrainbow412-blog · 1 year

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Exchanged clothes [S. R] Bolinus brandaris part. 2

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k

part 1

summary: a small act of kindness leads to a rather peculiar confession

A/N: Okaay, some people showed interest in a sequel to this and I thought I'd do it, I hope you like it enough. Oh and we are still with baby Spencer, later I will write about the second and third seasons (and as I progress in the series, lol)

taglist: @the-ginger-draws @skievers @c-m-stuff

The days passed, the cases continued, and the level of trust in the friendship between you and Reid only grew. Working at The Behavioral Analysis Unit was complicated and exhausting in many ways, which sometimes made you wonder how he managed to put up with all that, because, although you weren’t an old woman, you did have two years more experience compared to him. It's also not like it was your fault that he was a genius and he went to work for the FBI at an extraordinary age. So every time something happened, you were there for him and he was there for you. The whole team really cared about the two of you (and JJ, the third youngest) while still trusting in your abilities to face challenges. And just like in a family, everyone could also notice the existing tension between you and the doctor, because although, at least on your part, the feelings had been there for a long time, they had become more obvious to the rest since of the trip to Miami.

"Good morning" you had greeted part of the team that day, a few weeks after the trip, more energetic than the others would have expected. Neither Hotch nor Gideon were around, for obvious reasons, so it was only when you passed Reid's desk that you stopped, running your hand affectionately through his hair “Hey, Doc.”

"Hello," he responded immediately. Spencer didn't like it when his hair got messy, but he could take it if it was you, just as he could take your constant hugs or the drawings you sometimes made on his hand when you were bored during meetings. Of everything that happened between you, little managed to bother him, almost as if the interactions he avoided with others were something natural with you around.

Although he had stopped wearing his scarf daily, he still wore it at least once a week as a reminder of how special it was to him, and fortunately that day was the chosen one.

“Do we have a case? Or do I just bury my nose in these reports?” you muttered to the others, but they denied "What of that do you say no to?"

"Today they will be documents" JJ spoke kindly.

"Why do I have so many?"

“Because I passed you some of mine,” Morgan sneered and you gasped, completely offended. You whispered something accusatory in his direction that made Spencer laugh from the next desk, and then he reached over to take just under half the folders.

"I will help you"

"Oh no, no, Reid. It's okay,” you said, your voice softening noticeably, as you placed your hands over his to try to stop him.

"It's nothing, I'll finish them in a jiffy"

"Why don't you ever offer to help me, huh?"

“You manage pretty well on your own,” Spencer teased at your friend, now making you laugh. You still had your hands on his under the excuse of collecting your reports and, perhaps unconsciously, both of you postponed the moment for another few seconds, looking into your eyes with a small smile until he finally managed to keep the material that he had stolen from your desk.

"Thank you," you said, so softly that only he could hear you.

Looking at your coworker had already become something of an obsession. You liked his gestures, how he looked away when he spoke, his nervous ramblings, and the straight hair that he apparently was letting grow, but what you liked the most were his hands. When he was explaining a profile, he always communicated a lot with his body language and honestly, the swaying of his hands, combined with the tranquility in his tone of voice, was very hypnotic to you, as if keeping the attention of others was something inescapable for him, although it was probably easier to keep your attention specifically. Right now, while everyone was minding their own business, you were watching sideways as he ran his middle finger over the printed lines. It made you nervous to see the delicacy with which he moved across the sheet of paper and inevitably your mind traveled to inappropriate corners related to that movement, which embarrassed you to the point of blushing. Thank heavens he was too focused to notice you, so you forced yourself to work on the few reports Reid had let you keep.

The days were very rare when no cases appeared, but you were grateful that they existed because sometimes it was necessary to take a breather. Seeing so many bodies, so much blood and so much inhumanity was something you never quite got used to, although having good teammates in your unit made it more bearable. So that night nothing stopped you from finishing right on time, with a little back pain from sitting all day, but also quite calm.

"I'll see you tomorrow, rest"

"Are you going to your apartment?" Spencer asked, rushing towards you with his coat in hand and the briefcase slung over his shoulder, and you nodded Can you wait for me to go together?”

You looked at him, more confused than you wanted, but you said yes. It's not that you were upset or that you didn't want company, but that you were curious as to why he might have offered to do it.

"Thanks again, for earlier," you said, once both of you were outside. You lived a few streets from the office and you could get there in less than 20 minutes by taking a subway station, which fortunately was the same one he took.

“Okay, they were too many for you. I mean, it's not that I think you can't do the job, you're very capable, it's just that I thought it was too much workload for just you and I… well, I could help you so I did it” with that Reid held up a hand to downplay the matter and smiled at you.

“Why have we never thought about walking to the subway together?”

"I don't know either," he said. You felt a gust of wind hit the both of you so you hugged yourself to try and get some warmth and even though Spencer wasn't the best at reading social cues he managed to figure out what you had and what he needed to do

“Here” he murmured, as he spread the coat and put it on your shoulders.

“Oh no, no, no, Reid. I'm fine"

"In fact, if you don't use it you can catch a cold and although there are very few cases in which there are complications that lead to death, the symptoms last about a week and you can infect several people during the first days, so you not only you would be taking care of yourself but also the rest of the team” he informed you. That made you smile, and you found that behind all his scientific mumbo jumbo, he was trying to take care of you.

"It's a little big on me," you laughed, reaching into the sleeves with some help from him.

“You look pretty” he blurted out from his lips, completely entranced by you “Well, the… the coat. It looks good” he tried to fix, but you laughed at the compliment that you definitely wouldn't pass up.

"Aren't you cold?"

“No, my shirt and vest help,” Spencer replied, showing you the long sleeve of her white shirt. “I also have my scarf, did you forget it?”

"The best choice in all your outfits" you joked, reaching out a hand to feel the soft fabric of the garment and looking at him, with that cute shy smile "What will you do when you get to your apartment?"

“Huh, probably get some sleep. I haven't been resting properly in the past few days."

"Nightmares again?" you sadly asked. Spencer had talked to you superficially about it a few days ago, although you thought that he had suffered from this disease for much longer than he wanted to admit. He didn't answer verbally, he just nodded his head and you thought he didn't want to delve into it “I think I'll spend a while in the bathtub and then I'll sleep. I'm exhausted"

“You close doors and windows before you sleep, right?”

"I do," you assured him.

“Do you also take your cell phone with you to call in case of emergencies?”

"Huh, yeah"

"Good. Take care of yourself” he insisted. Those didn't sound like random recommendations and that puzzled you a bit.

"I do, Reid," you replied softly. When you noticed that the concern in his features did not leave him, you thought it would be prudent to ask him why that was "Are you worried about something?"

"No, it's not that" he hastened to answer. You still had a few blocks to go to get to the subway and only a few passers-by walked the streets, besides you.

“Are they unsub then? Anything in particular that worries you?"

"It's nothing like that. It's just…” he gasped, still unsure to continue, “if I tell you, you'll think it's silly”

"Of course not. Tell me, what is it?" you asked. He was internally debating if he should tell you what he was thinking and he was convinced a little when he felt your hand on his arm, as if prompting him to speak.

“Yesterday I…” he started to say “I had a nightmare. I dreamed when I arrived at the office I found out that something bad had happened to you. And… I don't know, it felt very real and I couldn't get it out of my head” he admitted. You understood that perhaps it was the reason he had wanted to accompany you, as if he feared that someone might stalk you on the way.

“Spence” you murmured gently, as you pulled him a little in your direction to place one hand on his bicep and the other on his forearm “Don't worry, nothing's going to happen to me. My apartment complex has a good security system and I always carry my gun, if something happens on the street, I will know how to deal with it. They're just bad dreams, I have them sometimes too” you said to reassure him. You felt quite comfortable walking in that position and you continued a couple of steps holding him like this, looking for some negative sign from him, but it never came. With the closeness he managed to feel a little less fear, reminding himself that what tormented him were fantasies of his own mind, that if they were analyzed with a little more detail they were an unconscious reflection of how much he feared losing you.

"I told you it would be silly"

"It is not. It's quite sweet, actually,” you smiled, moving your thumb up and down as you smiled at him. In that position your face was at the height of the boy's shoulder and it was enough for him to turn his head to reach your forehead, so he wondered how much you would bother if he left you a kiss there. He wanted to, but held back.

“I just thought I should tell you. For you to be careful"

“Same to you, Reid. You have a rather peculiar ability to get into trouble” you exclaimed accusingly, because in a couple of cases the man had already managed to get on your nerves.

The position turned out to be cozier than you expected and you continued walking the rest of the streets towards the subway in silence. He concentrated on the feeling of your body so close to him and your hands gently holding him, while you lost yourself in thought wondering what you really felt about your coworker and what he felt for you. Spencer would look at you from time to time, analyzing your gestures and enjoying the sight of you wearing his clothes, something he didn't think would affect him the way he did.

“Did you know that railway suicides have a very small percentage in the country's suicide rate?” he told you, while the two of you looked at the subway tracks that you were waiting for. You had had to distance yourself to be able to pay the pennies for the ticket and you had decided to place your hands in the pockets of your borrowed coat, caressing the lining fabric with your fingers.

"I had no idea" you muttered. You were a little surprised that he always had an interesting fact about literally anywhere you were and you loved hearing him tell you “It must be horrible. And very sad"

"Even the government allocates certain resources to pay for psychological therapy for drivers who witness these suicides"

"Well, at least it comforts me to know that part of my taxes ends there," you joked bitterly and the train stopped just as you finished saying it. Reid let you first into the nearly empty car that would take you home, and along the way you continued to talk about less unfortunate things, like the dinner choices you were planning or the TV shows that were likely to be airing when you arrived.

Having those little quiet moments with him made you feel lucky and the laughs he managed to get filled your chest with joy, making you completely forget everything related to work. The voice in the wagon warned that your stop was next and an anticipated sadness invaded you.

“Be…”

"Be careful, I know" you smiled. Since you were already on your feet, so as not to miss your stop, you crouched down to give him a quick goodbye hug “See you tomorrow. Try to sleep and if you have nightmares you can call me, okay?" you muttered. He nodded from his place as he watched you leave towards the platform and leaned out the window to see your figure disappear into the distance.

Neither of you two realized that you had kept his coat until you got home.

As of that night, that coat returned to see the doctor's closet on very few occasions and the purple scarf went on to have joint custody. He had found out that if he loved anything more than wearing the clothes you gave him, it was seeing you wearing them, causing him to come up with totally pathetic excuses to accomplish that.

"It's a bit cold" "Purple matches your clothes" or simply "keep it, it looks better on you than on me"

It soon became a habit. During the cases, when you two were apart, it was a little comforting to have something of him with you and when he came home, he would enjoy breathing in the smell of your perfume impregnated on the fabric.

After a few weeks you realized that, without a doubt, you were so in love with him. And when he realized the same thing, he was completely terrified.

“Reid” you greeted him one morning, catching up with him as he poured himself a coffee and analyzed a piece of bread that had surely been sitting there since the day before. Hugs when seeing him had also become a habit, quite nice from the man’s point of view "I have something for you"

"Again?"

"Oh yeah," you smiled. Lately you had been filling him with small gifts and most of them quite rare, but which he kept suspiciously in his desk drawer. And it's not that he didn't appreciate it, but that he was beginning to feel guilty for receiving so many and not having given you any yet. "Give me your keys," you asked and he obeyed without even questioning you. Once you had them in your hand, you took a strip of colored beads from your pocket that you added as a key ring, while he looked at you with some confusion.

"What's that?"

“My friend asked me to babysit her daughter this weekend and we went crazy with crafts. So I thought I'd do this to you” you muttered. He took a closer look at the keyring and noted that you had included his favorite colors, purple and green, as well as a heart-shaped bead at the end. "I know it looks like a preschool kid's creation and if you're embarrassed to wear it you can throw it away”

"No, I like it. It's pretty,” he smiled, running his long fingers over the beads. Satisfied with the answer, you took out your own keys and proudly showed them to him.

"I have one just like it," you said happily. That was true, only yours was made of pink and blue, and the way you said it completely touched the man.

"You make me think that there is still goodness in this world, you know?" he exclaimed, so sincere and without thinking that he surprised you "I loved it, thank you very much"

"Now that I think about it, it's like one of those friendship bracelets you make at summer camp”

“I never went to a summer camp”

"I don't know why I'm not surprised" you laughed and would have continued the conversation if it hadn't been for Hotch's interruption.

“We've got a case. Conference room in 5”

Sometimes you forgot that the real reason you were there was the criminal profiles and not seeing Spencer Reid every day.

You just woke up one morning and knew you had to tell Spencer how you felt about him. As you said before, Spencer seemed to have a special magnet for trouble and proof of this were the cases in which he had to perform dangerous tasks that you knew no one else could do. When he had to get on that train with Ted Bryar you'd gone crazy and last week when he'd watched that cult boy on Massanutten Mountain threaten Reid with a gun you decided you'd had enough.

He had expressed concern for your well-being on multiple occasions, but what about his? Didn't you have the right to care about him just as much? every time he came back you wanted to throw yourself into his arms and whisper in his ear if he was okay, to maybe leave a kiss or two on his cheeks. But every time he came back you just cheered with the rest of the team and barely had contact with him beyond a squeeze on the shoulder and a sincere: I'm glad you're okay.

So you thought that if you wanted to have that kind of privilege over others the only alternative was to profess your love to him in the hope that he would feel the same way and you could work something out.

Spencer, for his own part, also had his epiphany and as much as he tried to avoid it he ended up asking Morgan for advice, who was the only person he thought would be suitable to talk about this kind of subject. Surprisingly, Derek behaved discreetly and really gave the doctor valuable elements to understand one of the few sciences in which science was almost obsolete: love.

Going back to recently acquired habits, walking together to the subway was another one of them. Sometimes this was interrupted because he or you stayed longer than the other, but except for those cases it was a regular activity.

So that night, when you two were walking to the station, your mind was immersed in remembering the speech with which you planned to tell your friend.

"You're very quiet today," Reid observed, taking you by surprise. In a few months he had already learned very well some traits that indicated that something was wrong with you.

“Sorry, I… I have a few things on my mind,” you apologized, but Spencer didn't know what to say because he also had his own things on his mind. He was desperately searching for a way to put into words what he felt, but he kept wondering, could that be explained? All attempts at reasoning became useless with you near him, maybe that's why he couldn't think of how to tell you "Reid, I don't think I've ever asked you, but have you ever had a partner?"

"Like… couple?" he asked, trying to make sure you were referring to the same thing he thought.

“I know it sounds weird, but it just… made me curious,” you exclaimed, shrugging and then crossing your arms in an attempt to comfort yourself. Reid fondly watched how your arms were on that purple scarf and felt a little motivated to speak.

“Huh, in that case, yes, something like that. I dated two people when I was in school, but it wasn't anything serious, just a few kisses” he explained to you and you failed to contain your laughter, maybe because of the way he had explained it. Spencer blushed to his ears and smiled reflexively at your smile. "Don't tease!"

"I don't" you defended yourself. Another person walked down the sidewalk and he reached out his arm to move you protectively in front of him, so when you came back to his side you took advantage of the distance between you, to the point where your shoulder brushed against his arm.

"And you?" he asked after a while of silence "Have you had many boyfriends?"

"The truth? not so many. With most of them I lost interest after the first date and the others left me when they found out I was in the academy. Apparently armed women aren't very attractive” you smiled. You had asked about his romantic history, and incidentally talked a bit about yours, only to open the topic and somehow feel that your confession would not be so out of place.

“There are studies that indicate that women take longer to fall in love than men, perhaps that is why you lost interest quickly. For you it takes about 6 or 8 dates to decide if you want something with a person, because you are more selective and better analyze personality traits in men. But they only care that the girls are… well, pretty” he murmured, with a smirk “On average it takes women 134 days to fall in love while men only 88”

“How long have you and I known each other?”

"It must be like... a year and a half now" he exclaimed, mentally doing the math "Why?" he continued legitimately confused. For the genius that he was, Reid was naive at times.

You looked down at him and for a second thought that even with those bags under his eyes and the stubble he hadn't shaved, Spencer was the most handsome man you'd ever met. Not receiving an answer, he looked at you and was surprised to see the sparkle in your eyes.

"Okay, can we stop here for a moment?" you asked. You knew you were probably going to chicken out if you didn't say it right then, even if that closed beauty salon you were standing in front of was an unromantic place. "I need to tell you something”

You had said it with determination, but once you were face to face, your mind went blank. You panicked: how were you going to tell him? What was the right thing to say? What reaction did you expect?

But Spencer, noticing the silence, decided to be the first to speak.

“Noradrenaline is a neurotransmitter that produces excitement and effusivity, increases heartbeat, blood pressure, causing sweating of hands and flushing. High dopamine levels generate a need to be with the person that releases it and is related to serotonin, which generates well-being, optimism, social closeness, and reduces discomfort and anger. Phenylethylamine makes everything more intense, makes us feel more motivated and optimistic and finally, oxytocin is the love hormone par excellence, it occurs when we have a bond of trust with people or when we feel a strong attraction. Sometimes it is also released when we embrace the reason for our affection” he had said that so hastily and waving his hands, that he could only show how nervous he was. He inhaled to catch his lost breath, then finally made eye contact with you, taking a moment before continuing, “What I'm trying to say is…you make me feel all of that. You alter my chemistry in ways I've never thought of and… and I… go all goofy and don't know what to say…”

"Spencer" you interrupted him "You mean you like me?" you asked gently, because you knew that when he started to wander sometimes you needed to bring him back down to earth. Reid looked at you tight-lipped and nodded slowly.

You were silent for a second, trying to process what he had just told you, and he got even more nervous than he was.

“But I think that after all this what I care to know is… if you feel the same way. Or in the worst case, if you think you might feel something like this”

“A total chemical mess for you?” you exclaimed amused. One of your hands went to his and you gently held it, taking a step closer to him. “I'm sorry, Reid. I feel it every time I look at you, that you hug me, every time I give you those silly gifts and see the smile on your face. Everything in you causes me that"

"Are you serious?" he asked, wanting to be completely sure what he was hearing. You laughed and wrapped your free arm around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

“Of course I do. Before you said all that I was racking my brain trying to find a way to tell you how I felt."

“Did you know that this is a phenomenon? There are those who call it the tuning fork effect, which is when two people connect the same idea at the same time, almost as if they had been thinking at the same frequency.”

You chuckled and buried your head in his neck, letting go of his hand so you could hug him properly. He wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his head in your hair, willing to say nothing more for fear of ruining the moment. All the fears you had had were being buried with that contact, because now you had the certainty that what you felt was mutual.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours, just listening to the gentle beating of his heart and enjoying the sense of security that being in the man's arms made you feel.

"I really like you" you broke the silence, with a whisper, making him smile.

"I think the most logical step from here would be to ask you out on a date, no?" he muttered. You pulled away enough to look at him, but still leaving your arms around his shoulders.

“I don't want to have to wait. Let's go for a burger"

"Don't you prefer somewhere more... formal?"

"Leave formal places for proposals, handsome," you said in a playful voice, caressing his cheeks with your extended palm and he made a mental note that this Italian restaurant he was thinking of inviting you to would be the ideal place to ask you to take the next step, when the time was right.

“I still have to take you on at least 6 dates, to be sure”

"Fuck the statistics, I don't need that burger to know I'm in love with you," you said and he grinned from ear to ear.

“I know a place with an excellent health label and organic food, it is a few streets from here”

"I follow you" you answered cheerfully "On one condition"

"Which?"

"Let me hold your hand," you asked softly and Reid wasted no time in fulfilling your wish, leading you to the restaurant that way.

And at the end of the night, when you stole a kiss from him, he couldn't have felt luckier.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía

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hritika1 · 10 months

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Unveiling Opportunities for a Thorough Examination of the Hair Oil Market

In the ever-evolving landscape of the beauty and personal care industry, the hair oil market stands out as a dynamic and essential segment. The demand for hair oil has witnessed a steady increase, driven by a combination of cultural practices, growing awareness of hair health, and the influence of beauty standards. This blog delves into the intricacies of the hair oil market, exploring its size, market share, overview, analysis, future trends, and the insights provided by market research reports.

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#Hair oil market #hair oil market size #Hair oil Market share #Hair oil Market Overview #Hair oil Market Analysis #Hair oil Market Future #Hair oil Market Research Report

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tswwwit · 5 days

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Cipher's Personal Portable Portal

'How they meet' won the poll!

So just to make things fully contextualized, as far as they're gonna be - here's the full first chunk of this stupidly long fic I'm writing.

I hope you enjoy!

Standing in the wreckage of the burnt-out building, Dipper wishes he didn’t know who did it.

Anyone else would have left some trace sign. A scrape of blood, a hint of burnt hair. A friggin’ decent eyewitness report, even.

But here, like last time, and the time before that, and the time before that - there's absolutely zero traces. No video footage, nobody around at the time of the crime. Not even footprints.

Dipper kicks one of the remaining supports, sending a puff of charcoal up from the impact.

If he knew the bastard’s name, he’d curse it all to hell.

With a sigh of exhaustion, Dipper sits on a chunk of scorched foundation. He pulls his shoe off to tip the ashes out of it; there’s enough that the resulting cloud leaves him coughing.

Around him, the scoured west wing of the museum is silent, still, and empty. A grey-black skeleton of its former self, filled with dust and charcoal.

This arson is yet another one in a very, very long line of crimes. They’re not just ‘unrelated incidents’, or ‘bizarre coincidences’. Dipper’s not ‘being paranoid’ or ‘coming up with some pretty weird conspiracy theories’.

There’s only one person who could manage this. The same guy who turned a bank upside down - literally - and the same one who impaled a mob boss on an oversized silly straw and gave tails to half of a household last week.

It’s all connected.

Each crime is marked with the same style, mostly by how remarkably weird they are. Along with a thread of magic, distinct in its composition. One so distinctive that it's almost a flavor. Though admittedly, without certain magical analysis, it’s pretty hard to detect.

And if other freelance magicians would take the time and look at Dipper’s notes, maybe one of them would help find this asshole.

Dipper stalks through the burned building, fists balled in his pockets. He stumbles over a fallen support column, and nearly trips before he makes a hopping retreat back.

Though the culprit has been at his game - whatever ‘game’ that is - for a good half a year now, this is the most destructive ‘incident’ so far. Nobody was hurt, since it happened in the middle of the night. The one relief from a terrible crime, that only objects were obliterated in the process -

But the ashes speak for themselves.

Here, there’s nothing left.

He breathes in slowly. Then regrets the attempt at calming himself as he coughs again.

Whatever the culprit’s initial motive was, it hasn’t lasted. He’s grown not only in ambition, but also in his abilities. Things are escalating at a rate Dipper doesn’t like to think about.

Someone has to get to the bottom of this. Before it’s too late. Dipper’s got his number, metaphorically speaking, so. Well, might as well be him.

And when he proves that all of this chaos was created by the same person -

Well. A little boost to his meager reputation couldn’t hurt. Maybe a few medals and accolades. There isn’t a trophy for best monster hunter, but he can imagine standing on a podium and -

Dipper waves that thought off, swearing under his breath. Stupid. He has better things to focus on.

He’s the only freelancer on the case. Definitely the only one taking this seriously, the only one who thinks it’s the same person to begin with - and even he’s starting to have some doubts about ever finding the bastard.

Six months of tracking this guy down, and what does he have to show for it? A ramshackle compilation of incidents, a vague feeling of magic, and a description that could fit any bottle-blond actor with bad fashion sense. Scraps. He might as well pin them up and connect them with red string for all the good it does him.

Another kick sends Dipper hopping back, clutching his foot with a swear. He winces at the hole in the tip, he nearly punctured his foot on a nail.

Just his luck. Wrong place, wrong time, always just barely avoiding disaster. Dipper shows up whenever there’s an event, he’s got the means to follow the guy - but he’s always just a little too late.

Even worse, lately the guy’s been picking places… not at random, exactly. More like he causes trouble wherever it’d be the most annoying to follow.

The culprit must know someone is on his trail. But he’s not making it impossible to keep up, or even majorly difficult for a determined pursuer. Just really, really irritating, like making moves at three in the morning, or pausing just long enough for someone to catch up, then heading right back where he came from. At one point Dipper had to trudge through a literal swamp, only to find that bastard had sauntered in by baking himself a neat little trail right through the damn thing. There wasn’t even footprints to follow.

It’s a repeated point in Dipper’s notes. Whoever this is, they’re a total, absolute dick.

With a sigh, Dipper runs his fingers through the ash on the museum’s floor. Not a single thing is left beyond the shattered glass of some display cases, and the charred remains of the building. Even the enchanted metal tools have been melted into slag.

The day before yesterday, he could tell something was up. Building energy, something that felt like it was made by the culprit. Something with the twinge of a powerful curse, coiled and being wound up like a spring.

Dipper spent that evening convincing - okay, maybe also bribing, thank you Stan for the idea - the museum to let him borrow materials. The day after that, he spent all night, morning, and most of the afternoon running around slapping up anti-curse emblems. The entire south of the city warded, in a fine careful net of spellcraft. The work was exhausting. Both in running around, and in the amount of magic he’d needed to use.

But it was worth it. That evening, in the quiet and very uncursed city, all the emblems activated. Dipper would have sworn he sensed someone in the distance, cursing his own name. That night he went to bed with a smug sense of satisfaction, floating on a cloud of triumph.

Which is probably why the bastard burned down the museum next.

With another sigh, Dipper tucks his notebook back into his knapsack. He’s gleaned all he’s going to for today; in the fading evening light, searching more is pointless.

So much for all the magical artifacts. Most of those had come in really useful in messing with the guy.

…How the hell did the culprit know where they came from, though? He’d need a near encyclopedic knowledge of artifacts to know which ones Dipper used, then track them back to their origin.

Or maybe he just searched on the internet. It’s hard to tell.

Dipper just wishes there were more clues. But just like every other incident, the guy up and freakin’ vanished.

No human can disappear like that without some very irresponsible use of power. That hope is one Dipper’s hanging his hat on. After six months? He has to be reaching his limits. He’ll burn himself out before he can manage too many more incidents. Maybe Dipper will find him by stumbling on his withered, dissolving corpse.

Whoever this is is pretty strong, but no power is infinite. He can’t hide forever.

It can’t be too much longer. Won’t be. Dipper has a plan, he’s gotten really close, and - He’s good at his job, damn it. He knows he is.

Taking a deep, slow breath, Dipper lets it out. Patience is the name of the game here. He’s just gotta keep moving.

One day, he’s going to catch up with that bastard. He’ll see the guy in the flesh. Then he’ll grab that stupid dick before he can escape, again, and wipe that presumably smug look off his probably ugly face.

Turning around one last time, Dipper surveys the destruction, stuffs his hands in his pockets - and pauses.

A speck of light glints in the pile of ash. The last bit of evening sun, shining off a metallic surface.

Alert with surprise, Dipper scrambles over to the pile. Kneeling down, he brushes the dust carefully aside, careful not to disturb anything fragile that might shatter if handled wrong.

One thing did survive. Thank fuck, it’s not an absolute total loss. Just, uh… Ninety-nine percent of it.

He scuffles through the still-warm ashes, cupping his palms underneath the lump and lifting it from its bed. The motion sends white puff rising up as ash slips away from the artifact.

A small black, squarish thing rests on the pile, a bit larger than both his palms put together. The material is faintly warm from residual heat, insulated by the ash it laid in - and there’s not a mark on it. Not even a scratch.

Dipper turns the artifact over in his hands with a frown. The shining black surface reveals no obvious buttons or secrets. Just a kind of phone-ish shape, though more square and squat. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say a guest dropped it on the rush to escape.

The fact that it’s still intact though. Nearly glowing with magic, a tremulous feeling under his palms - this is not dropped by some clumsy tourist. Not even Ford could put this together.

Wiping at the object with his sleeve, Dipper manages to clean off most of the smooth surface. On one of the sides, dust clings to the thinnest of engravings. The very faint outline of an equilateral triangle. No runes or other magical scribing, just… a shape.

Dipper thinks back but - no, he doesn’t remember seeing this in the collection. A quick check online reveals…

Basically nothing. There are - were - a bunch of stone and metal slabs in the archives, all described so poorly as to be useless. Some are even bunched up in groups. ‘Magical slab 1-24’ and ‘Metal artifact 1-78’, no description involved.

Not surprising. Probably dug up in some mass excavation site, transported here, then never really looked at again. The bulk nature of the shipment means it was overlooked, its magical properties never discovered.

After today, he’s just glad that even one item escaped this onslaught.

The other artifacts must not have had much to them. But some magical property in this artifact’s making must have saved it from the blaze. Fireproofing, perhaps? Against weird fire? That’s unusual. Maybe even unique.

As the only survivor, it really needs investigating.

Dipper glances over his shoulder, then around. With everyone evacuated, it’s quiet in the rubble. Nobody here would notice if, say… a clue wandered off.

The artifact slips easily into his pocket. The shape conveniently looks just like a phone, even if the shape’s a bit off. Not something that would attract any attention.

Whistling nonchalantly, ducking out of the way of local law enforcement and any onlookers - Dipper makes his escape.

Another day of pursuit. Another scene of disaster, the culprit there and gone in the blink of an eye.

He’ll be up to something new, next. Never the same thing twice, never in the same place.

Dipper will follow in his evil tracks, of course. But for tonight - his fate is another crappy hotel room.

He ditches his backpack by the door, slumping against the wall and its chipped paint. He could start going through his notes, and the pictures of the arson. Put in more work, find further connections -

But it’s been a long day, and he’s tired. He might be magical, but he’s only got so much to work with. A reasonable night’s sleep, if he can manage, will make the task loom less horribly over his tired brain.

With a sigh, he drops back on the mattress. There’s some bounce to it, springs squeaking like they’re full of mice. Hell, maybe they are. The type of room he can afford isn’t exactly decadent.

That, though, should be temporary. Dipper’s career is only just starting; freelancers in the ‘solving magical problems’ scene don’t get great rates. Especially as a beginner. Definitely without a partner; it makes him look super young. Like he’s just starting out, fresh-faced and not having any inroads.

Because this field is really stupid, and doesn’t pay attention to results. Dipper’s been fine on his own for years, and he’s done really cool things without that ‘networking’ crap.

All by himself. Totally cool with that, because Dipper’s a cool guy, sometimes. If Mabel hypes him up enough on one of their phone calls, he almost believes it too.

Though it would be nice to have some backup, it’s hard to find someone who really gets the job. Or does it in the way that Dipper goes about it. The number of people who are willing to take long treks in hyper-magical territory to search for an obscure clue, or set up really complicated traps for dangerous monsters, or talk over high-level magical theory while sitting in the rain all night just to get one body-snatcher are…

Well, besides Ford, who recently retired, there aren’t any. Only Dipper himself.

One day, things are going to change for him. All his effort will pay off. If he keeps solving mysteries, and fighting monsters, he’ll forge a reputation as someone who always gets the job done. No matter how hard it is, he can handle it. The work is picking up, too. The last six months have shown the biggest series of magical incidents in decades.

And he’s gonna be the one to get to the bottom of it.

Dipper Pines, the guy who proved it’s all connected. He’ll have it laid out in facts and math, all the evidence. They’re all gonna see that he was totally right.

Once he finally gets this guy, everything’s going to start looking up.

The sheets rustle as Dipper settles back, holding the artifact up over himself. He stares into the black surface, and a slightly distorted reflection narrows its eyes back at him.

A good mystery always intrigues him. This one should take his mind off the other, irritating one for a while.

The only remaining object from the fire is clean and smooth. A mysterious creation, of unknown purpose. Clearly riddled with magic, too; Dipper feels it running just under the surface like a rapid current. It gives the artifact a weight that has nothing to do with mass.

Power.

Did the criminal see this artifact, still intact after all the other magical objects were gone? Did he try to destroy it too, and fail? Or simply not notice he’d missed one out of thousands?

Whatever it is, it’s got a lot more going on than meets the eye.

Dipper casts a quick identifier, which comes back with nothing. He’s not surprised. That’s the first thing anyone would try. If it was that simple, he’d already have the full description off the site.

With a shrug, he traces another set of runes, his own version, adding a little more oomph behind it -

And the magic leaps back instantly, with the bizarre sensation of a bouncy ball hitting concrete.

“Huh,” Dipper says, thoughtfully. He sits up, hunching over the slab in his hands. “Now that’s new.”

A more subtle approach, then. Tracing the lines of energy with the barest brush of magic upon magic reveals something deeply complex. Thin layers twist together deep under the surface, building an entire circulatory system. Dipper has to put it down for a moment, suddenly worried that it is organic.

When a cautious prod doesn’t get a response, he relaxes. Not fleshy, just complicated. Which also proves he was right earlier - the artifact’s just as powerful as he’d thought. The spellcraft is unlike anything he’s ever seen.

Dipper rubs his hands together, starting to smile.

Even if he doesn’t find the guy he’s after, figuring this out could be a heck of a win.

Several attempts later, he’s beginning to get why this bastard brick got tossed in with all the other junk.

Nothing here is working. It simply deflects. Standard spells poing off of it like rubber, while giving his magical senses an odd, back-of-the brain afterimage of a circle with a slash through it; a firm ‘nah’.

Dipper nearly chucks the thing across the room in frustration, before shutting his eyes and taking several, calming breaths.

Okay, weird thing, weird enchantment. The ordinary stuff won’t work. The magical logic is… twisted in a way that leaves it incompatible with most everything. He’ll have to find a different approach.

“What are you?” Dipper says, low and frustrated. He gives the artifact a shake, as if he can knock the secrets out like a rock from a shoe. “What secrets are you hiding in there?”

No response, not that he expected one. With a wry smile, he taps the sleek surface with a finger, twice. “C’mon, man. Talk to me.”

Huge yellow letters flash onto the black surface.

HEY

Dipper throws the artifact, a bit awkwardly since he’s lying on his back. It sails in the air in a high thin arc, landing with a thump between his legs. He scoots rapidly backward, sheets pulling up behind him.

The artifact lies where it landed, an unmoving brick. There’s magic in the air now, but no sense of any spell building, ready to unleash power to blow his face off. The latent spellcraft of the artifact has just been activated.

More text displays on the surface, bare except for the glowing letters.

To the jerk that’s swiped my private stuff: You got some nerve! I expect this back by interdimensional mail in a week, or trust me - there will be consequences.

Dipper waits a full minute before he lets go of the headboard. Tentatively, he kneels near the…

Is this a phone?

Clearly it’s a communication device of some sort, with the freaking text messages. A phone is the obvious equivalent, only - he thought it looked far older than that, something way before mobile phones. Possible ancient. Is that a coincidence, maybe, or is it secretly modern?

Dipper taps the ‘screen’, just below the glowing words. To his surprise, there’s actually a keyboard, what the hell. This thing keeps getting weirder.

Since it hasn’t already thrown a horrible curse at him, or burst into flames - it’s reasonably safe to assume that it’s simply ‘on’. Not ‘explosive’.

With hands that are definitely not shaking, he picks it up, and types,

Who is this?

His own text pops up in blue. A strange contrast to the yellow, but he’s guessing it’s for convenience - there’s no bubbles to tell who’s said what otherwise.

A few seconds of nervous waiting later, there’s a response.

Oh hey, you answered! Well, human - You’re talking to the one and only Bill Cipher, Dream Demon, all-powerful master of the Mindscape! I’d say it’s nice to meet ya but you’re not supposed to have a direct line to me!

Dipper raises an eyebrow.

Now that’s one hell of an introduction. It might even have been interesting, if it didn’t smell of complete bullshit.

Complicated spellwork, sure. Incomprehensible architecture? Maybe. Dipper can admit it; he’s never seen anything with a web of spells on it this complex, in such small of a package.

But the idea that Dipper just stumbled onto a demonic artifact of all things. One that wasn’t instantly detected, recorded, then ritually destroyed is…

Someone’s fucking with him.

Dipper rolls his eyes as he types back,

Really? Demon? You can’t expect me to believe that.

What, you calling me a liar? ‘Cause I am, but not about this! I got better things to mislead mortals about. This is my property, not something for your grubby mortal mitts.

Dipper snorts. Guess this person’s sticking with the bit. Obviously whoever created this would want it back - but too bad. Whether they’re delusional, stupid, or just a flat-out liar, they’re really good at enchanting. It’d be a waste not to study their work.

He lies back on the bed as he replies.

Sure, have fun roleplaying, or whatever, it doesn’t make a difference. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

ARE YOU CALLING ME A LOSER. MORTAL.

Hmm, I’m detecting a certain amount of ‘crying about it’, so. Yeah. Suck it, loser.

Smirking, Dipper settles back - then his half-smile drops, as he holds the ‘phone’ a little further away from himself.

Though the blue fire building up in the screen looks like a bad sticker effect, the artifact’s also getting a alarmingly warm. It vibrates in his hands - then suddenly stops, cooling down.

Ha! Alright, alright, I admit - you got some balls.

Maybe you’ll change your tune once you REALLY know what you’re dealing with! Might wanna check the connection, if you’re even capable of it! Mortal magic doesn’t reach across dimensions!

With a grimace, Dipper taps his fingers on the phone. It’s slightly cooler now, but still worryingly reactive to… whatever happened on the other end.

Damn. Whoever this is, they’re not only really really good at enchanting, they’re also pretty confident that tracking them down won’t spoil their game. The confidence exuding from this ‘Bill’s’ words feels genuine.

Honestly, though, the suggestion is a good one. Dipper should have tried to trace the call the second he knew someone else was on the line.

Maybe ‘Bill’ thinks he won’t manage to find him. Joke’s on him, though; Dipper’s amazing at finding stuff. He’s the best tracker of magical anything in years. Maybe decades. With a solid, stable connection right in front of him? Hell, he could do this one in his sleep.

Time to call the bluff.

He casts the tracing spell, though it takes longer than usual. A few gestures and muttered ritual aren’t gonna cut it; he has to improvise around the strange construction of the enchantment. Even trailing along the magic seems harder than usual, like it resists mixing with his own, and it takes him a few attempts to match the signal.

Once he finds the right way to tune it… the lead snaps along the already-existing connection, and zips away to find its source.

The line extends out from the shabby hotel room, a plucked string in Dipper’s senses. It twists around the phone, rising slowly. Invisibly passing through the walls and the -

Ceiling? Dipper looks up on instinct, even though nothing is visible.

From there it swirls around in the air like a silly straw on steroids, and then - out, very far, in a way that isn’t up or down or left or right, just

Away.

Dipper has to cut off the tracing spell before vertigo has him reeling. The swirling sense of standing on top of a skyscraper is followed by a flip in his stomach. That he’s using a device he barely understands that reaches out into something even more incomprehensible.

He drops the phone-artifact, trying to clear his head by shaking it rapidly.

That’s not nearby. Not on this planet. Possibly, genuinely, not even in this dimension.

Shit. Bill wasn’t bluffing.

Dipper wipes sweating palms on the sheets. To pick up the phone again takes an effort, willing himself to grasp it in unsteady hands.

A demon.

All the monsters he’s fought, curses he’s broken, years of work tucked into his belt, and he’s never seen one of those.

Demons are dangerous, evil, and very, very powerful. Consorting with them is by all accounts a terrible idea. He should never have picked this up. He should hang up, and throw the damn artifact out the window, hoping that nobody else makes as dumb a mistake as he just did.

On the screen, there’s a long long scroll of yellow letters, filling the entire surface. ‘HA HA HA HA’ over and over and over again.

Before he can think better of it, Dipper starts a response. He’s halfway through a sentence - what the fuck, that’s not funny- before he pauses.

Terrible evil monster. Stupid powerful. Probably Bill sensed the tracing of the connection, like he did with Dipper’s other testing. Bill wanted the result startle him. Because he thinks it’s funny.

Dipper grits his teeth, and glares at the screen.

Actually, screw this guy. Dipper’s keeping the stupid phone. If for no other reason than spite. This ‘Bill’ guy seems pretty full of himself, like he’s totally above some human. He’s in for a bad time, then, because Dipper’s not going to let one little surprise scare him off.

Besides. The average guy would get into horrible, even deadly trouble, whereas Dipper… sort of knows what he’s doing. No, he is good at his job. Finding secrets, solving mysteries, thwarting evil jerks who think they’re oh-so-hilarious, the whole shebang. He does it all.

Taking another breath, hissing through clenched teeth - Dipper lets it out. Losing his temper isn’t going to help deal with an extradimensional being. He has to be careful.

He thinks for a long moment before he responds.

Okay. Let’s say I believe you. Maybe. Then you should know I didn’t steal your… whatever this is. I found it lying around, and I just. Got kind of curious.

HA HA HA! Of course you were! Careful with that impulse, kid, it kills more than just cats!

A jerk who definitely thinks he’s hilarious. Dipper rolls his eyes, then, rather pettily, decides to ignore that statement.

More pressing questions take the lead. Like what the fuck he’s holding right now, and if there are any other nasty tricks in store. A little bit of him, bubbling under the surface, wonders what being a demon is like. What they get up to, common habits. Ways they could be tracked down and, y’know, defeated, maybe.

Theoretically, he’s got a line to a bunch of innocent, totally not-thwarting-related information that could be super useful to someone trying to, maybe, be a super cool monster-fighter.

Dipper backspaces a bunch over some poorly thought out questions. First things first. Like what the hell he’s holding right now.

So. What is this?

Good question! The gadget you’re poking at with your sweaty meat-paws is paired to the one I have here at my place. A little one-on-one communication assistant, if you will. Once you started groping around with your magic, it wasn’t hard to tell someone had picked it up!

Dipper raises an eyebrow. Though he already has an idea… a little confirmation never hurts.

Like, you got a notification? Or literally felt?

The latter! Kinda like smell, but by touching things with your eyeballs. And with all your prodding around you might as well have been stinking up the place! Your spells aren’t real subtle!

Hey, they’re subtle! Having weird extra senses is just cheating.

Sucks to be human, then! In that you suck at everything! What’s a LOSER like you gonna do about it?

Dipper nearly throws the stupid artifact again - but he holds back, gripping it tight. Instead he sits up, leaning down and hauling his backpack up from the side of the bed.

Maybe Bill thinks he can’t do anything. That he’s some ignorant nobody, who doesn’t have any real skills or talent or doesn’t have any friends - but he’s got that wrong. Dipper’s not a loser. Bill’s not getting away with that bullshit.

One quick unzip and a bit of rifling around later, he finds what he was looking for. Carefully, Dipper bounces the heft of a flashlight battery in his hand. Shutting his eyes, he focuses on crafting a quick working.

Magic is all about energy, and its direction. Focusing power, conveying it from one place to another. Pushing anything across dimensions would take impossible amounts of energy, stuff Dipper doesn’t have. If it weren’t for a very convenient connection, already in his hand.

Dipper has nothing on hand to actually exorcise the guy - he’s not sure that’s even possible when Bill’s where he should be - but retribution is in order.

More text lines appear on the artifact. He ignores them. Changing this up to work with the demon device is a challenge, but after figuring out how to alter the tracking spell changing this one up isn’t hard. He adjusts the flow of magic this way, into the tangle of not-veins in the device that way, finishes the chant-

Then touches his tongue to the battery.

The jolt passes through him painlessly, following the spell. It zips along his nerves, down into his hand and from there - into the artifact itself.

Where it should, theoretically end up right at that bastard.

Dipper tosses the battery back into his backpack. Picking up the ‘phone’, hunching over to stare at the screen.

That worked. He felt the energy move… unless he got the math wrong. Or a detail of his spell. Or maybe demons are immune to electricity, and he just did something totally pointless.

God. It might even prove Bill right, and wouldn’t that be the worst -

The next line of text comes in.

What the hell? A joy buzzer? That’s some real petty prank stuff! You seriously pulled that bullshit? And across dimensions?

A tense pause. Dipper taps the phone, checking for it heating up again - but another line pops up after a few seconds.

Y’know what, kid? I think I might actually like you! You’re FEISTY.

Dipper nearly does a double-take.

But no, that - what? Aren’t demons supposed to be vengeful? He was half-sure he’d have to chuck the phone out the window before it exploded in his hands.

In fact, you’re in luck! ‘Cause I’m pretty bored, and I can totally show you how to improve that jinx of yours! If you can keep up with a little theory, that is.

Because that’s not suspicious or anything. Conversation with a demon can only lead to ruin and disaster. He should absolutely, definitely stop this right in its tracks.

Still, Dipper shrugs, and types,

Try me.

#billdip #I should probably make a tag for this 'series'#Let's say the tag will be #Portal AU #I say series but my plan is to complete it then post it in One Big Post on AO3 eventually #I just wanted you all to know I really am working on stuff and I hope you enjoy these two idiots #This is ~5k of the now 21k document I have going #Truly I am caught in a trap of my own making #Suffering is writing and writing is suffering #I also realized while putting this on Tumblr that I can totally change text colors!#I might apply that formatting trick later if I can find a shade of yellow that isn't totally obnoxious to actually read #Little nervous about this since it's not Familiar AU but they needed not to know each other for the Premise to work #I'm excited to get to later stuff because I can make SO many dumb jokes

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