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sweetflanfiction · 23 days ago

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Assymetrical Symphony - Part 6

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

A.N.: Thank you guys for commenting and faving the story. I'm always happy to read all you guys tell me! I'm going to try and reply back. Anywho, let the rollercoaster begin.

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5

• ··········· • ············ •

The following week, you restarted the journey to becoming a member of Piltover's society under Esther’s wing.

The official story was: Your real mother was your aunt, and you had come back to Piltover after your fictional mother died, and because your real mother's maternal instincts were so fine-tuned, your real mother didn't mind that you or anyone else, for that matter, called you her child, and her your mother. Complicated? Yep. It would feed the gossip circles for years, and honestly, you both thrived on the drama.

Clothes were brought, space was made, introductions were done, and the process of making you an official Rainemour in the world was set in motion.

It felt like home, back to your old Topsider self, with the added extra of waking up, kicking and screaming with the feeling of fingertips on your forehead.

It had been a flurry of new faces, new places, and new customs. You met the house staff, Jaime and Oly, and the cook, Voltaire. While the two keepers lived on the lower floors, Voltaire lived somewhere other than the Cinquefoil building. He had been your mother’s friend for a few years and was the chef at several topside restaurants.

You still hadn't met the elusive Wyllah, but you had found out who she was. She was an art merchant, away on business, but most important, she was your mother’s significant other. Your mother had told you one night, almost in fear, she had found love after your father’s passing. You had blinked and shrugged. Nobody deserved to go through life alone.

Your mother’s life has been quite interesting on this side of the dimension rift. She was a writer, penning a series of fantasy books that magic lovers drank like water. She also found herself advocating for better education in Piltover. All of Piltover, especially the undercity. Esther tried to help those who wanted a chance to change their future.

It was only a matter of time until fate brought her and a certain engineer who also had a like-minded vision together. After that meeting, Esther became a patron of the Talis Lab and the Academy, helping with funding for any projects regarding the betterment of the city.

And that was the reason why you were now making your way towards a familiar lab in the Academy. A commission for her needed approval and had been delayed long enough with the rocket attack and you appearing out of thin air. Or, according to the gossip, like an illegitimate child.

“You didn’t need to come along.” She mumbled while pushing the elevator button.

“I wanted to come.” You smiled confidently at her. You wanted everyone to see you and become accustomed to you. It would be beneficial if you wanted to get into the business of saving the world.

“To check on your friends?”

You nodded. Before the Herald and the HexAngels, between Jayce becoming a councilor and the hextech showing its true colors, most of your time was divided between the music conservatory, the orchestra, Talis' labs, and home. And from all of those, home was the one you went to less and less with time. Therefore, when allowed to have even a single second of normalcy in a familiar place, you seized it.

When the elevator dinged, you walked inside with a conviction that was only masking a feeling of nervousness. Yes, you knew this place and the face on the other side of the lab door, but they didn't. You were just a stranger.

“Has it changed much?” Your mother whispered, and you grinned at her.

“Nah, a few artworks and garbage cans. Some names on the doors, but nothing else.”

“Really? Fascinating.” Her face was deep in thought.

“Stop.” You chuckled, knowing that look. She was taking mental notes. “It’s not that interesting.”

The elevator pinged and opened again. Instinctively you walked out first, knowing exactly where to go, your mother keeping up with you, scoffing.

“Well, excuse me if I find it amazing that my child jumped through time and space to save the world.”

“I didn’t save the world.” You rolled your eyes at her.

“Viktor is still alive, isn’t he?” She noted, raising her eyebrows.

As soon as she finished that sentence, a small thump of a dry explosion was heard inside the hextech lab. Like an empty milk carton was squished with a stomp.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” She added.

Another small firecracker-like explosion was heard, prompting you both to look at each other and break into a jog to reach the lab.

As expected, the door was locked, and although you had told your mom about a lot, the magic part was still something that needed some explanation. So you resorted to the least efficient way to open a closed door: banging on it.

“Viktor! Jayce?” Esther shouted. A few groans from behind the door warned you there was someone alive inside. Well, capable of moaning in pain was more accurate.

“Get the enforcers.” You mumbled to your mother; she nodded and raced around the corner.

As soon as she was out of sight, you pulled your glove off and magically unlocked the door, punching the rune you painted near the lock. The door immediately opened with the force of your hit but didn’t swing open as expected. It hit something and bounced back, slamming shut again while someone grunted in pain on the other side.

It’s funny how you could know someone from their tiniest squeak. And you knew that groan. You'd know it had it come from the other side of Piltover. Hells, you'd know it if it had been heard through the actual space and time rift.

Carefully this time you twisted the door handle, opening the door gently and peeking inside the lab.

Although the curtains were open, a dusty, thick white fog lingered in the air, making the room a shade darker. The floor was littered with tools, gears, and pencils that had fallen from their places, and a pair of goggles was lying on the floor next to a welding machine.

Viktor was sprawled on the ground, leaning back into one of his hands while the other was gently massaging his face. One of his legs was twisted uncomfortably, and the other was bent at the knee in front of him. You could see as he rubbed his face that there was blood coming from somewhere. After a while, he shook his head and looked up at the door.

When he managed to focus his gaze on you, his eyebrows knotted in confusion and then realization. With a sigh, he sat, grabbed the leg that was twisted uncomfortably, and brought it forward. You heard a metallic thud. Hextech leg. Your gaze shifted to his face; you saw the blood coming from his nose, but it didn’t seem broken. Above his eyebrow was a small curved gash, a courtesy of the goggles he probably ripped off his head.

“We do need to stop meeting like this.” he mumbled, trying to get up with the grace of a baby deer using its long limbs for the first time.

Putting your glove back on, you took a step closer and offered him a hand, which he accepted with raised eyebrows and a head tilt.

With more expertise than he was expecting, you grabbed his hand and forearm and pulled him up. Picking this man off the floor had become a skill both you and Jayce obtained a long time ago. His disability unfortunately made him an easy target for misfires. While you and Jayce would easily dodge anything coming your way, Viktor wouldn’t. Couldn’t. And since the fastest way to move him fast was pushing him out of the way, the three of you would end up on the floor, and either you or Jayce would shield Viktor from whatever was malfunctioning at the time. It wasn't your proudest idea, but it worked, and for better or worse, you all would escape relatively unscathed.

“Like what?” You asked, joining him in dusting off his clothes.

You patted his back gently, feeling the brace on his spine under his clothes. You didn't find it.

“After an explosion.” He swished the dust off his coat sleeves. The off-white coat was a tinge darker after the mishap.

“Technically, this is the first time we meet after an explosion.” You emphasized the word ‘after’ and he stopped mid-swipe, turning his face back towards you.

Shrugging, you lifted the corners of your mouth, giving him a grin that he responded to with a chuckle. You looked around the mess that was the lab at this moment and spotted his white cane and his wheeled bench.

You grabbed the cane first and gently pushed the stool so it would roll down next to him. He plopped down with a groan, using the table as leverage. You handed him the cane, and he nodded. You smile at his messy figure.

“Thank you.” He said, placing the cane between his knees and leaning into it with a heavy sigh.

“Do you need anything else?” You asked softly, stopping the urge to kneel next to him and take stock of his injuries.

“There is a first-aid kit somewhere on Jayce's desk. It’s on the...”

Before he finished the sentence, you jiggled the white box next to him, having already grabbed it when he mentioned it.

“How did…?” He asked, looking at you questioningly, and panic set in for a second.

“Oh, my dear boy!” Your mother burst in, followed by several Enforcers, and you sighed in relief.

“Is everything alright?” One of the Enforcers said, and you took a step back, leaning against the table behind where Viktor sat.

“Yes…” Viktor stated while your mother fussed over him.

One of the enforcers looked at you, and you recognized his eyes. He had been one of the men you had pushed out of your way at the front door of the Academy. You looked at the floor, trying to not provoke the man.

“Funny. You always seem to appear whenever anything goes boom, don't you?” He spat towards you.

“Not funny at all.” You replied, your tone serious, trying once more not to escalate the situation. For your sake and the people you cared about who were now looking between you and the Enforcer.

“Maybe we should call Officer Kiraman. I’m sure she would like to know that once again you’re in the vicinity of an attack.” He snarled, and you scowled at him, about to let him have it.

“You are going to call Officer Kiraman over a malfunctioning piece of equipment?” Viktor interrupted, straightening up with a wince while using his cane to get up from the stool. “Do you think she’ll get here before or after reading all the condolence letters sent to her? Or perhaps she will make time on Remembrance Day, right before the speech honoring her deceased mother."

A pin could be heard through the silence if a pin would have dropped in the lab. The main enforcer was looking at him, mouth hanging open; you and your mother looked at each other and then at a very collected, very serious Viktor. He seemed taller, with his shoulders straight, and you knew that after that tumble he was going to hurt for at least a week, but that didn't stop him from stepping up to the Enforcers. You had forgotten how much sass that man could pack in a single line.

“When is it going to be, officer?” The engineer shrugged, limping back towards a pile of sheets that had flown back. “I need to tidy up before she gets here.”

It took the group of Enforcers three seconds to clear out after that, and a collective sigh was heard from the three of you.

“You’d think being knocked around would make their synapses work faster.” Viktor waved a hand at them, still picking up papers, stopping midway to look at you, like he had just realized you were there. “Not that I agree with knocking around enforcers…or that you knocked around enforcers… I’m just saying…”

He was flustered, talking with his free hand while his eyes looked around the room. You chuckled, and he stopped when he heard you.

“You’re just saying…?” You teased, rolling your hand for him to keep going.

“Nothing of importance, I suppose.” He turned back to the table.

“I was hoping you could show me the reader.” Esther announced, grabbing a few nuts and bolts and placing them next to Viktor. “But I imagine it's not functioning.”

Viktor turned to her, realizing finally why you were both there. He smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, yes and no.” He said, tilting his head from side to side. “The explosion wasn’t it, but it was a component that I was trying to recreate to use in another experiment.”

“And now both are fried.” You answered by crossing your arms.

“Well…yes. But if you give me a few hours, I can make it work, at least for the reader. The other thing will wait, I guess…” he said quickly. “Better yet, give me a few minutes so I can get it, and I can at least show you what I have for now.”

“It's quite alright, dear. Take your time. We can just come back another time.” Esther said, and part of you felt disappointed.

Your second home was right here.

“That would hardly be fair. You’ve made it here. Give me a few minutes, an hour tops.” He was limping around waving his hand and cane.

“I suppose I do need to speak with Councilor Salo.” Your mother shrugged nonchalantly. “Do you want to—”

“No.” You cut her off. “Not really. You go ahead. I’ll get reacquainted with the Academy.”

“Reacquainted?” Viktor inquired, looking towards you.

“Last time I was here, I didn’t exactly take the scenic route.” You covered your mistake with an easy joke, and he chuckled at it.

• ············ •

You managed to walk around the Academy undisturbed. It was weird to walk around the familiar corridors, passing by people you knew and fighting the urge to say hello and strike up a conversation. It was awfully lonely, seeing everyone going about their lives, never knowing about you.

Although it saddened you, you understood that it wasn’t because you weren’t needed in their lives but because fate found a way to replace you. Maybe you hadn’t saved Sky from falling down the stairs in this universe, because maybe her classroom was on the same floor she was at.

As you wandered, you found yourself in a corridor with very recognizable double doors. The Council Chamber was guarded by several guards, and you felt the morbid curiosity to see if the room was the same as it was in your time.

As you searched your brain for a way to bypass the guards, a familiar whispering in your ear. The rune from the elevator flashed behind your eyes. The one you hadn’t managed to make work. You took your gloves off again and drew the symbol in a railing, disguising it as an absent movement as you looked down to the courtyard. You let it go, and nothing happened for a couple of seconds.

And then the groaning of metal grinding against another surface filled your ears. Your eyes turned upwards as you saw the metal spike that held the Academy’s banner to the stone ceiling give way and slip. The heavy banner made a swoosh noise as it fell, and your eyes widened.

You saw the Enforcers run towards the elevator and the stairs. You turned your back to them and waited until their hurried footsteps had softened.

Quickly you made your way to the chamber through the door you had burst open. A new door had been placed and locked, but you unlocked it with three swipes of your fingers.

The chamber room was as spacious as you remembered, the hole in the dome a grim reminder that those who sat in this room were as vulnerable as everyone else in the city. You remembered Viktor’s diagram, looking around at the empty and cracked chairs. Most of the smaller debris had been cleaned off, leaving only the big and medium chunks. The ones that couldn't just be carried off by crewmen. The sun shone high and bright in the clear sky, illuminating the whole room, the long pieces of the damaged dome casting a shadow on the floor.

You touched parts of the smooth stone that were still intact and walked toward the edge of the room, feeling the wind on your face. It had been an awakening to these people, but not the one that Piltover needed. This whole region forgot how hard it is to break a rope and how easy it is to break a strand. Only in the end did they figure out that the many are more powerful than the few. That blood, once spilt, is equally red whether it is from Zaun or Topside.

Closing your eyes, you stood for a moment, somewhat grieving what had been the beginning of the end.

(Nemo - The Code)

Welcome to the show. Let everybody know I’m done playing the game. I’ll break out of the chains.

Until the wind started whispering in your ear and your eyes shot open. What looked to be blue dust started to float like specks of dust toward the middle of the room, and you followed the flow. There was nothing there. But there could be.

You better buckle up; I'll pour another cup. This is my bohème, so drink it up, my friend.

Your hand moved unconsciously, drawing the rune in the air like it was second nature. You pushed it out with a flick of your hand. Like in the graveyard, it divided itself into several wisps of light and quickly moved toward parts of the broken table and chairs. A familiar rune appeared, but so did many others. Some are more complicated, others just little flicks of light. Shining bright in the middle of the rubble or being illuminated by sunlight.

I went to hell and back. To find myself on track, I broke the code.

You walked towards what had been the middle of the cog-like shape and watched as the wisps danced around. Looking around, you noticed the runes were surrounding you, pulsating like a heartbeat; you noticed your hand doing the same, in rhythm with the wisps. You saw a small piece of rubble that had been missing by the cleaning crew and took a deep breath.

“Here goes nothing.”

Let me tell you a tale about life, 'Bout the good and the bad; better hold on tight.

Starting with the rune in front of you, you carved it on the floor, the piece of rubble in your hand serving as a makeshift chalk. You kept carving the runes on the floor in front of where they appeared in the air. The world around you faded, and your vision became focused.

See the rune, and trace the rune on the floor.

Let me taste the lows and highs; let me feel that burning fright.

It was automatic; you didn’t think or even study the rune. At some point, you felt like it was the rune commanding you to write, rather than your desire to write them. And even though it was akin to someone using your arm and hand to do this, it never felt like you couldn’t stop.

It was almost cathartic.

Somewhere between the O's and ones, that's where I found my kingdom come.

When you found yourself at the beginning of the circle of runes, you stopped and took a step back. The wisps had disappeared, but you could see a faint light throbbing under the scratched runes.

It looked so unbelievably perfect for something that you had scratched on the floor with a piece of cement. Every space between runes was precise, and the little ticks and dots were perfectly balanced.

With that amount of rigor, it was easy to see something was missing, a single wisp in the spot where the cog table opened. Familiar strokes. Ones you’ve been looking at ever since you woke up in the hospital.

You looked at your palm, the rune there shining so bright it almost burned. Taking a few steps towards the space, you shook your hand in the air and slammed it into the slot.

My heart beats like a drum.

The whole room shook, and for a second you got scared, but when the runes started ungluing themselves off the ground and quickly zapping around different parts of the table, you became too fascinated with the show to care.

If the building fell, you don’t think you’d even notice.

Every piece of wreckage, big or small, started floating above you, aided by strands of magic that pushed and pulled and moved different pieces toward different places. Their rightful places. Once a piece found its match, it was welded together by a flash of blue light, leaving them complete with a trace of metallic blue where the crack had been.

I went to hell and back. To find myself on track, I broke the code.

You noticed the same thing happening in the chairs, and by the end of the magic show, the table and the chairs were floating around you. Slowly drifting and turning into their right position. Until they wafted back down to the floor with an incredible low thud.

It was almost overwhelming once it was all over how the silence settled around you. The runes on the floor disappeared, your hand stopped glowing, and the table was complete, whole, pieced together by little blue veins. The only thing you heard was the birds outside, the wind through the damaged dome, your heavy breathing, and the clunk of a metal cane hitting the floor.

Your neck snapped at the sound, and you saw a wide-eyed Viktor standing in front of the side door you had entered.

“Your… your mother is… She’s looking for you.” He stuttered.

• ··········· • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty

#league of legends #lol #leagueoflegends #arcane #viktor #jayce #viktor arcane #viktor league of legends #viktor lol #viktor x reader #arcane herald #arcane season 2 #arcane act 3 #arcane spoilers #arcane x y/n #arcane viktor #arcane x you #arcane characters #arcane x reader

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jozlyn-moon · 9 months ago

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Bill and Kryptos

When it comes to both of them, especially in the AU, they have a history that goes all the way back to flatland. Kryptos being older than him by just a few years as well-

Kryptos, in the most TLDR was I can put it, is someone who Bill escaped to as an escape, a way to get away from his parents since they were less than empathetic in the grand scheme of things.

Now, Bill wouldn’t admit then, or now that he relies on Kryptos for more things than one, but his pride gets the best of him. Kryptos was a professor then, thanks to his technical 4 sided build, even if being by definition an irregular. He was a teacher in private to Bill, teaching him things usually his class of shape would never get to learn (Being an equilateral and merchant by proxy.) Allowing him to learn things even considered taboo by nature, that of the third dimension. Contained within books that once belonging to the circles, Kryptos allowed Bill to access those ideas, which Bill proceeded to hyperfixate if not obsess over horribly.

Bill became enamored and filled with the desire to leave, escape. To the point where Kryptos began to worry, he understood Bill at this point, his wants his desires to leave flatland and tell it to fuck off, but what he’s learnt is that the methods they found were only reckless, time and space destroying even by the equations he’s found.

But as he told this to Bill, he simply waved it off, but not without Kryptos noticing his more antsy nature as… they built a portal very similar to a certain one most would know. And like Fiddleford to Ford, couldn’t help but want to stop the project in risk of their more risk taking friend…

But it’s not like Kryptos could stopped what happened after. He leaves for only some time only for their actions to be reported and as he rushed back to the lab where they were making it- It was too late as Bill had pushed the button by then and was sucked right in.

Sucking in what unstable energy it held, his genetically unstable and malleable body deforming and taking it in like a sponge and breaking his mind in the process.

Kryptos watched in horror, as his friend was changed, and a rift began to form and destroy their world where their portal once stood.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #gf amber skies #gravity falls concept #bill cipher #concept art #kryptos #Flatland #object head

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jinjeriffic · 11 months ago

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DCxDP Prophecy Universe Part 5

Part 4

After collecting their bags from the library lockers Jazz led him down the hallway until she found a small, unlocked, empty classroom. The room was barren except for desks and a whiteboard. I guess they don’t bother locking it if there’s nothing worth stealing.

Jazz sat her messenger bag down on the teacher’s desk and pulled a whiteboard marker out of a side pocket.

“Right,” Jazz began, “I don’t know how much you know about ecto-entities and since, as you said, the reports on them tend to be pretty biased, I’m just going to start from scratch. Sounds good?” she rambled.

Tim hopped up onto the front row desk and tried his best to look like an attentive teacher’s pet.

“Yes, Ms Fenton,” he said cheekily.

Jazz gave him an amused look.

“Careful Mr Taylor, or you’ll end up in detention,” she said lightly. She turned to the whiteboard and gathered her thoughts for a moment, then wrote ECTO-ENTITIES in large block letters, “Many people refer to all ecto-entities as ghosts, but this is actually a misnomer. Ghosts as most people think of them, i.e. the restless spirits of the dead, are only a small subset of the ectoplasmic population. There’s plenty of them that were never human to begin with,” higher up on the board, she wrote INFINITE REALMS, “Ecto-entities originate from a parallel dimension to ours, which is called the Infinite Realms by its inhabitants. Though my parents refer to it as the Ghost Zone, that name is woefully inadequate.” Jazz paused and glanced at him.

“Kinda like foreigners renaming places instead of using the one in the native language, gotcha,” Tim nodded. They had dealt with alternate realities before, so this wasn’t completely out of left field. He would go along with it for now. Jazz gave him a small smile.

“That’s right!” she said and tapped the whiteboard, “Now, the Infinite Realms and our dimension are closely interconnected, like two sides of the same coin. Large scale damage to one would cause similar devastation on the opposite side and vice versa,” she gave him a serious look.

“Which makes the hostile attitude of the paranormal research community rather worrying,” Tim mused, “If someone did something stupid the blowback would hit us too,” If he wasn’t trained to read people he would have missed the slight tightening around Jazz’s eyes.

“That’s the theory anyway. And it’s not like the US government ever dropped bombs on people just to see what would happen,” she chirped with false cheeriness.

There’s a story there, Tim thought, and not the kind you would find in a history book. What the hell has been going on?

“I’m guessing getting access to the Infinite Realms isn’t as easy as calling an Uber though,” he joked.

“You’d be surprised,” Jazz said wryly, receiving a raised eyebrow in response, “there are places where the barrier between worlds is naturally thin, allowing temporary rifts to form more easily, but they can pop up pretty much anywhere in the world. It’s what allows ecto-entities to enter our dimension. It’s also not unheard of for humans to stumble into the Realms either, though they’re lucky to return at all,” she twirled the marker between her fingers, “Time doesn’t seem to work the same way in the Realms as it does here. Just in case you ever come across one, make sure to leave through the same portal you entered. Otherwise you might find yourself stranded in the Middle Ages, or far in the future with everyone you know and love long dead.”

Tim had to fight to keep down a wince. The whole Bruce Lost In Time Debacle was still an emotional scar for the family, they really didn’t need a repeat performance.

“Duly noted.”

“Some entities are able to open and close rifts at will,” Jazz continued, unfazed by Tim’s dry tone, ”though that ability seems to be pretty rare. It probably requires an unusual level of power or incursions would be much more common.”

“That would explain the little disappearing trick Damian’s delivery guy pulled,” Jason murmured through Tim’s earpiece, “But does that mean we’re dealing with a fucking super ghost?”

Tim gave a thoughtful hum and drummed his fingers against the edge of the desk.

“Do you think humans could open a portal to the Realms?”

Jazz gave him a wry smile.

“You just summed up the bulk of my parents’ research over the last two decades. They managed to build a functioning portal about two years ago.”

Tim choked. Jason swore.

“What?! But that’s-! How is that not all over the news?!” Tim sputtered. Jazz just sighed.

“My parents have been ranting about ghosts since they were in college,” she said wearily, ”Most of the scientific community had written them off as crackpots years ago. It doesn’t help that large concentrations of ectoplasm generate some kind of interference that messes with recording equipment. Short of kidnapping the naysayers and shoving them bodily through the Fenton Ghost Portal it’s hard to prove anything. And thankfully even my parents aren’t that crazy,” she finished with an eye roll.

Tim buried his face in his hands. An interdimensional portal. What the fuck. He thought back on everything Jazz had told him so far.

“What’s ectoplasm?”

“You’ve been paying attention!” she smiled and added some notes to the whiteboard, “Ectoplasm is the basic building block of everything in the Infinite Realms, and by extension ecto-entities. Hence the name. It’s the equivalent of matter in our dimension; atoms, protons, quarks, etcetera. I’m not a physicist, so I can’t tell you exactly how it works, but that’s why ecto-entities are able to interact with our physical world in such fascinating ways. Flight, intangibility and invisibility are all common abilities for them.”

“Wow, what a fucking security nightmare. B is gonna freak,” Jason groused. Tim tuned him out to focus on Jazz’s continued explanation.

“My parents have been experimenting with using ectoplasm for power generation, but it’s proven extremely volatile. It seems like it’s affected by things like belief and emotion which is absolutely fascinating,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “not to mention its effects on organic tissue. Have you ever had your dinner come to life and try to eat you?”

Tim had a sudden, horrible suspicion.

“Can’t say that I have,” he managed to squeeze out past the lump in his throat, “Um… Jazz, what does ectoplasm look like?”

“Well that depends on what it’s been affected and shaped by but in its raw form it looks like a bright green, glowing liquid,” she tilted her head, “Why do you ask?”

Over the comms, Jason made a sound like someone had kicked him in the crotch.

“Lazarus water?! Is she talking about the fucking pits?!” he choked out.

Tim made a valiant effort to keep his own reaction in check.

“Oh, just wondering how I’ll recognize a ghost- er, ecto-entity when I see one,” he lied with fake casualness, “You mentioned something about powers?”

“Yes! All the entities we’ve encountered so far have exhibited powers which are common to their species, as well as additional powers that seem to depend on the individual core. I’ve theorized that powers develop as a response to stress related to either their Obsession or death trauma…” Jazz trailed off, “aaaaaand I’ve lost you.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, I know I have a tendency to ramble,” she said sheepishly and considered the bullet points she had written so far, “Let me backtrack a bit. Not all ecto-entities are ghosts. There’s personifications of concepts, which I theorize are formed through the collective consciousness of living beings. They are entities which represent Hope or Justice or-”

“Time?” Tim interjected. Jazz gave him a calculating look.

“...sure. They are among the most powerful entities and have powers related to what they represent. I suspect they may have even been worshipped as gods at some point. You definitely wouldn’t want to mess with them,” at Tim’s nod, she continued, “There’s also the Neverborn, which are formed when ecto-entities choose to reproduce. They are entirely of the Infinite Realms, and thus were never ‘born’ into our world.”

“Ghosts can have children?” he said, surprised.

“Yes, although I’ve never been able to get the details on how it works. They don’t like to discuss it with outsiders. And considering they can look like dragons or disembodied floating eyeballs I’m not sure I’d want to know the exact mechanics,” she joked.

“I’m sure there’s plenty of people who’d disagree with you on that,” Tim muttered, then paused. “Wait, dragons?”

Jazz waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. The point is that there’s way more to the other side than most people realize. There’s probably lots of things I’ve never even heard of. It’s quite exciting, really!”

Tim worried about it. A lot. Jason had also gone suspiciously quiet.

“So, ghosts are just the tip of the iceberg?” Tim hedged.

“Exactly. What sets them apart from other ecto-entities is that they are usually created upon the death of someone or something from our dimension, which gives them motivation to come back here,” Jazz added more notes and arrows to the whiteboard. “All entities have something they call a core; think of it as their central organ or brain. It houses their consciousness, and its nature affects what powers they get. There’s all kinds of elemental cores like fire and water, but also more esoteric ones like shadow or technology. An ecto-entity’s body is composed of ectoplasm and moulded by their core. Their physical form is malleable and heavily based on their self-perception. With experience they can change shape to suit their needs.”

Tim mentally added shapeshifting to the growing list of powers to worry about. So far it sounded a lot like a Martian’s.

“So can ecto-entities grow and age?”

“It depends. The Neverborn usually do, but a lot of ghosts have a bit of a Peter Pan thing going on where they don’t want to. They are often ‘stuck’ at the age they were when they died, physically and mentally. Though there’s always exceptions.”

Tim hummed thoughtfully. Something had been bothering him since ghosts had first entered the equation.

“Jazz, if ghosts don’t age or die, why aren’t they all over the place? Even if rifts are rare, shouldn’t there be hundreds of thousands of years worth of dead folks wandering the Earth?”

She gave him a sad smile.

“I never said ghosts couldn’t die, Adam,” she said carefully, ”And not everyone who dies comes back as a ghost. The ones who do typically have some unfinished business holding them back. Like an obsession they never got to fulfill, or a loved one they are watching over. Once they are done, they are free to move on to whatever Afterlife awaits them,” she sighed and crossed her arms, “It also takes a lot of energy for a ghost to do anything in our world. I think a majority of them never hit that level, or can’t keep it up for any significant amount of time. It’s also part of the reason my parents are so biased against them.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“Think about it. Most ecto-entities are just like regular people, going about their business and keeping their heads down. The ones who are both motivated to cross into our world, powerful enough to manifest and tend to make themselves known are the troublemakers. It would be like an alien looking at the population of Belle Reve and concluding that the majority of humans must be super villains! It’s sample bias.”

Tim bit his lip. This all sounded worryingly plausible, which would mean a literal world of trouble about to come down on their heads. Fuck, just what we needed.

“You mentioned that ghosts can die. I assume you don’t mean from old age, right?” he queried. Jazz looked at him wearily.

“You’d be right. If an ecto-entity’s core is too badly damaged, they will cease to exist,” she said cautiously, “It doesn’t help that ghosts tend to maintain a strength based social hierarchy and are fiercely protective of their territory. Ecto-entities usually have a lair within the Infinite Realms, and those who cross over to our dimension often establish a haunt to call their own. Any intruders would be met with violence,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead, “My parents have also been developing weapons to fight ghosts with… varying degrees of success. A lot of their tech runs on ectoplasm which makes it pretty temperamental.”

Seeing Jazz’s obvious discomfort with the topic, Tim decided to switch tracks.

“Is there any way to tell for sure if my brother came back as a ghost?”

Relieved at the change, Jazz made a see-sawing motion with her hand.

“Kind of? My parents tried for ages to build a ghost detector but they never got it to work quite right. Too much ambient ectoplasm in Amity I guess,” she shrugged as if that statement wasn’t extremely worrying. “You could always grab a ouija board or something and try asking. Just… don’t ask a ghost about their death. It’s a major trauma for most of them and there’s no better way to send them into a frothing rage. If they volunteer the information that’s one thing, but to ask about it is like the social faux pas among ecto-entities.”

Tim nodded and made a mental note to get his hands on some Fenton tech. He had a feeling it was going to be a long week for him.

Jason and Tim didn’t speak until they were safely back in the car. Tim was mentally composing the report they would have to make to Bruce. He was not looking forward to his reaction.

“So,” Jason began with fake casualness, “an interdimensional portal in Illinois.”

“Yep.”

“Creatures made of fucking Lazarus Water.”

“Sounds like it.”

“And we still don’t know if our mystery meta is Bruce’s dead kid or not.”

Tim groaned.

“It all adds up though, doesn’t it? The camera glitching, the powers, the portal…”

“And that damned prophecy. The personification of Time, huh?”

Tim pinched his nose to stave off the growing headache. They contemplated the fucked up situation they had stumbled into in silence for a few minutes. Finally, Jason sighed and started up the engine.

“Rock-paper-scissors for who has to tell B?”

Part 6

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #batman #batfamily #jazz fenton #tim drake #red robin #jason todd #red hood #prophecy universe #the one where clockwork uses prophecies to mess things up (and set things right)#no beta we die like danny #jazz gets to infodump and worldbuild whoo

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yujateaandpi · 4 months ago

Note

Sooo just to clarify this isn't like the drifting stars au where Mable gets sucked into the portal duringthat one episode. Ford was in gravity falls for a bit of the summer until something happen??

Btw love your art can't way to cry to it!

No, and to those who keep asking, I want to make it very clear that I had no idea what the drifting stars au was before I drew the first page. This is brain soup pairing to the Don't Dimension It comic in the Lost Legends book when Mabel gets sucked into a leftover Weirdmaggedon rift to the multiverse. Except in this AU, Ford goes with her. They lollygag for a week of silly adventures trying to get back home, expecting that this is something they can scrapbook about before the summer ends. But when they return home... well.

#gravity falls #thirtymoreyearsau #yujateaasks

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ckret2 · 3 months ago

Note

Do you believe in the fans' current belief that our bill was the only one who lost in the multiverse and that the other bills won because of that line in bill's book that mabel and dipper from the show were the only ones who came out of gravity falls alive ???

The fact that Dipper & Mabel had bad endings (not even "died"—like, Gnome Queen Mabel doesn't look very dead) doesn't mean that Bill won.

If he had, don't you think he'd have shown dozens of versions of himself celebrating his victory rather than dozens of versions of the kids being miserable?

In most cases... the kids dying probably means Stan never got to finish the portal that'd let Bill into the dimension. Even if he did, the kids being dead means there's nothing to distract Ford from sealing the rift and/or nobody Bill can manipulate into handing over the rift. Even if he DID get through the rift... there's like, more than one way he coulda been defeated. (Like what woulda stopped Joined The Blind Eye Dipper & Mabel from helping fight Bill??)

Frankly the idea that there's only one summer where the kids survived is silly. Like even if they make different decisions in each timeline, not every timeline would logically lead to doom. "There's one timeline where Dipper beats his paper clone and one timeline where Tyrone takes over Dipper's life" okay then there's also one timeline where Dipper decides to make paper clones and one where he doesn't, and in the one where he doesn't he also survives the day. If infinite timelines exist, then they would obviously survive/avoid bad ends in a whole bunch. If there's a timeline where the Summerween Trickster eats them then there's a timeline where they never offended him in the first place. If there's a timeline where they didn't defeat the zombies then there's a timeline where Dipper never raised the dead.

So tbh the entire proposition that they only survived one timeline is too goofy/ridiculous to be worth putting serious consideration into. I don't spend time on it.

#epictailsfan #ask

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marzinstarz · 5 months ago

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BoB WEBSITE CODE MASTERLIST:

COUNT -> 100

BOOK OF BILL

"Hide it under shirt during pledge of allegiance"

PINES

"A good family tree"

STANFORD PINES

His 18 y/o medical report

STANLEY PINES

Ebay page for brass knuckles

BABBA

Full recording of Dipper singing

WEIRDMAGEDDON

News article from after the fact

BILL CIPHER

Wikipedia page for 'triangle'

HECTORING

Church meeting recording

WADDLES

Pig adoption page

TRIANGLE

")"

"Tri harder"

MYSTERY SHACK

Google page for 'Confusion Hill'

GRAVITY FALLS

"Never heard of it"

DISNEY

"rat.gif censored for your protection"

T.J. ECKLEBURG

"Never mention that name again"

DEATH

"Life's goth cousin"

LIFE

"Life 72% complete. Now loading: Death"

SKELETON

"The one with the sword! He found you!"

WENDY

A note from Wendy about warding off evil triangles

ROBBIE

Thompson and Robbie's messages about summoning bill

MONSTER

Google search for "THERES A MONSTER AT THE END OF THIS BOOK"

SOOS

Soos's message about life at the mystery shack

PINATA

A video of a bill cipher pinata getting beat up

MCGUCKET

Link to youtube video of "Rednex - Cotton Eye Joe"

MABEL

Adds stickers to the page until it reads "Lab now fully mabelised"

DIPPER

A note from bill telling Dipper to stare at the sun

TAD STRANGE

An oddly sexual video of bread

LOVE

A romance novel called "The Love Triangle" with an audio recording of the first chapter

CIPHER

Wikipedia page for "Eye of Providence"

TOBY DETERMINED

Google page for "Restraining order"

GIDEON

Google page for "Sweat resistant bolo ties"

QUESTION

"Answer"

MYSTERY

"?"

Any swear word

"Not S&P Approved" notice

PORTAL

"Portal.exe has been deleted. I bet you could build one"

GUN

"Oh yes oh yes they both"

SEASON 1

"Season -1: Antigravity falls"

SEASON 2

"Season 1"

SEASON 3

"Season 2"

DEER TEETH

"For you, kid!"

BLIND EYE

A faux eye test page filled with codes that someone smarter than me need to decode

FILBRICK

"I'm not impressed"

BLENDIN

"Time agent lost and presumed incompetent"

JOURNAL 1

"The journal of fun"

JOURNAL 2

"The journal for you"

JOURNAL 3

"The journal for me"

ALEX HIRSCH

Google page for "Flannel"

GOD/FRILLIAM

Video of an axolotl swimming in front of a Bill statue

AXOLOTL

"You ask alotl questions"

WEIRD

A video of Weird Al stuck inside the computer

TITAN'S BLOOD

"Hoot. Hoot. Password please!"

BAAAA

A poem about a shepherd

SUCK IT MERLIN

Art labelled "The Bastard Triangle Cuts the Unicorns Hair" 1499

BABY

An ultrasound of baby Bill

MASON

Dipper's note to ford on anagrams

CRYPTOGRAM CODEX

Downloads a zip file containing fonts of codes and runes

I'M STILL ON YOUR MIND

A video of Stan and Ford on the Stan O' War II, with a colour block code

SORRY

The full image of Ford and Fiddleford at collage

FBI/CIA

Your webcam is on. We are watching."

DUCKTECTIVE

"Ducktective stars in 'Love, Quacktually' coming to 'Oi, it's the Cockney Channel innit?' this fall"

EVEN HIS LEGS ARE LIES

A note from Bill about Fords place as a perfect pawn

DIVORCE

"O' SADLEYS" Logo

SEVEN EYES

Image of the oracle with a warning on the back

R34LITY

Images of Bill and his henchmen in the real world, message reading "They found a new home"

BLANCHIN

Youtube tutorial on how to blanch vegetables

PACIFICA

A note from Pacifica about what a loser Bill is

PLATINUM PAZ

A story of how Bill tried to enlist Pacifica to steal the time rift before turning to Blendin

EUCLYDIA

"Dimension not found"

SCALENE/EUCLID

"Life form not found"

IRREGULAR

Bill's mug shots

LOVE YA BRO

Drawing of Stan catching a mermaid

XYLER

Youtube link to Jem and the Holograms theme

UNIVERSE

"Hologram"

HOLOGRAM

"Universe"

NOTHING

"Something"

SOMETHING

"Nothing"

HORROR

Urban legend story of the 'Always Garden' a restaurant you cant leave

MATPAT

A video of Matpat tell us were on our own T-T

ONE EYED KING

A hypnosis video with Bill audio convincing you to pledge your soul to him

CURSE WITTEBANE

A Bill Cipher ouija board

BURNSIDE

"Burned inside"

EVEN HIS LIES ARE LIES

A snippet of Bill's therapy sessions talking of what ford was to him

WELL WELL WELL BEING

"Patient file: Bill Cipher. Greatest love: Himself. Greatest fear: Himself"

"Art therapy notes: All he draws are red and blue triangles"

"Patient's odd phobias: 3D Glasses. Venetian blinds. TV static."

JUST FIT IN

An old game commercial for "Perfection" with a snippet of Bill's [?] voice at the end

TANTRUM

A transcript of a fight between Bill and the Time Baby, sheds light on Bill's crime against his home dimension

PAPER IS BOOK SKIN

Downloads a photoshop file full of skin layers

SKIBIDI/RIZZ

"Life privileges revoked. Now releasing poison gas."

DORITO

Creepy jump scare video

SCARY

A novel cover for "Spookemups" with and audio sniper of the story

GIFFANY

"Input deleted. AI Antiviral activated"

"Warning: Secondary firewall breached"

"Fatal warning. System under attack"

"Soos! I still love you! We will be together"

"Now downloading girlfriend. (This action cannot be undone)"

Then downloads a zip file full of link to Giffany gifs

BOOBERRY

A shockingly uplifting poem from Bill with a little image of him as a melting candle

Words that do not trigger the buzzer : BUBBLE, BUTTON, CLEAR, MUSIC

#I. am. going insane.#someone take me away from this website i could just sit here typing words for eternity #gravity falls #book of bill #dipper pines #mabel pines #gf #book of bill spoilers #this is not a website dot com #alex hirsch

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badass-queer-couples-battle · 1 year ago

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Sword gays showdown, round 1, bracket two

Propaganda:

For Kiku:

She is almost 10 feet/3 meters tall and is a gorgeous trans woman and samurai, who is very loyal to her allies. She gets recognized as strong by the main character multiple times and proves it by being one of the most resilient badasses in the entire series. Helps break said main character out of the enemy's prison and takes part in a rebellion against the corrupt prison staff. She stands up to a tyrant who enslaved her country, said tyrant can also turn into a giant dragon. When the highest ranked sumo in the area is abusing class privilege and harassing both the townsfolks and her, she cuts his top knot off in public, effectively ending his career. Then after cutting the sumo's not knot, she uses her great acting skills to win the crowd to her side by playing the innocent maiden and being all "oh, no, what have I done?" (She knew exactly what she did >:) After her country is free, she also gets to enjoy being girly and mellow once everyone is able to relax, and everyone respects that side of her too. All of this at just 22 years of age, what a cool lady

She's a samurai who's great with a sword and she's also trans.

She is cannonically trans and is a very cool swordswoman!

Trans samurai!! Kenshi is gender neutral, but this is a swordsWOMAN

One of the most powerful samurai in her country, also a trans icon.

She’s canonically trans and awesome and pretty and she’s so tall! 🏳️‍⚧️

For Luo Binghe:

This boy not just studied the blade, he learned the blade FROM HIS CRUSH. And not only that but he actually has tons of symbolism around BOTH of the swords he wields over the course of the novel. His childhood sword gets broken when he's about to be thrown into his corruption arc, but the pieces are carefully preserved by his crush, and later he rebuilds the sword in question. Once he is fully freed from corrupting influence of his other sword, he uses this one again! It represents his inner goodness that gets broken, but is never really gone. The other is a cursed sword representing toxic masculinity that corrupts his mind and pushes him to harm himself and others. It gets destroyed in the end thru the power of gay love!

His sword is first broken symbolizing his trauma and loss of innocence when he is kicked into hell. Then his other sword, Xin Mo, which he finds in hell, represents toxic masculinity and he breaks it at the climax of the novel. It can also dimension travel and is evil.

Binghe has two different songs in this book and a complicated relationship with both of them. First there is Zhen Yang which breaks at a dramatic moment and is mourned over by his teacher/love interest "like a grieving widow". And then there's Xin Mo! His "golden finger". The most ridiculously overpowered sword in the world, it can even cut rifts in the fabric of the world. It also runs on sex and violence and drives him to madness which can only be cured by the aforementioned love interest sacrificing himself... or by sex!

#sword gays showdown #luo binghe #the scum villain's self saving system #svsss #kikunojo #one piece #okiku

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phantasmarigoria · 12 days ago

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Some of my Favorite Methods of Traveling through Dimensions 🪽

I'm finally back!! My mortal and magical life have been a bit boring recently, so I've not really had anything to report. Final exams have also been truly awful. Despite that, I thought today I would share my favorite methods of traveling through dimensions and other realms!

My first method is through keys; its so simple! Some keys are enchanted with magic, which gives them the ability to open rifts to other realms. All you have to do is hold the key, and turn it in the air as if it was inside a lock. If you keep your desired location in mind, the key should take you there! I personally use keys the most when battling; things can get really crazy, so its best to isolate from mortals in a safe area while fighting.

Once again, we are talking about seals; they really can be used for almost anything! To travel, simplt summon your seal with your desired location in mind, and walk through it! If done right, you should end up where you wanted to go. For beginners, I'd suggest having an experienced magic user go with you in case you travel to the wrong place and get stuck! Mastering easier forms of traveling are also helpful to learn before this one.

My final method: scissors. I researched this briefly in one of my magic books, and it can be used by mortals too! All you need are enchanted scissors that are specially enhanced to travel dimensions, which can be hard for many. If I find an enchantment ritual, I could post a tutorial for anyone who desires one! Anyways, once you have your scissors, just cut a line in the air with them; it creates a dimension rip! heheh...

I sincerely apologize for my almost 2 week absence! I am not back and proud to have completed my exams!

Dearest, Himari 🪽

#chuunibyou #love chunibyo & other delusions #irl magical hero #magic #irl magical girl #irl mahou shoujo #madoka magica #magical girl #puella magi madoka magica #rikka

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legionofmyth · 5 months ago

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Rifts Dimension Book #14: Thundercloud Galaxy: Who are the Dominators?

🛸 Meet the fascinating inhabitants of the Thundercloud Galaxy from Rifts Dimension Book #14 by Palladium Books! Explore the diverse cultures, unique species, and vibrant societies that make this galaxy come alive. Watch now to uncover the mysteries of the Thundercloud Galaxy's people! #RiftsRPG #ThundercloudGalaxy #PalladiumBooks #TabletopRPG #SciFiFantasy #RPGLore #RolePlayingGames

Rifts Dimension Book #14: Thundercloud Galaxy Rifts Dimension Book 2: Phase World Meet the diverse and intriguing inhabitants of the Thundercloud Galaxy from Rifts Dimension Book #14 by Palladium Books! 🛸 Uncover the unique cultures, species, and societies that populate this extraordinary dimension. Watch now to learn more about these fascinating characters! In this video, we introduce you to the…

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duvetfawn · 1 month ago

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Through Shadows and Sorcery

- Masterlist

INTRODUCTION: The Eye of Vortessa was a relic of unimaginable power, sought by a rogue sorcerer threatening reality itself. Doctor Stephen Strange needed your expertise to decode its secrets. What began as a high-stakes pursuit soon blurred the lines between duty and desire, forcing both of you to confront the dangers outside—and within.

PAIRING: Dr. Strange x fem!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT, MDNI, oral sex, vaginal sex, different positions, etc. + fluff and a bit of angst

WORD COUNT: 6k

A/N: Here's the one-shot I was talking about! Thank you for all the likes and reposts of my previous works. Sorry about grammar mistakes (if there are any). Enjoy your reading!

The relic pulsed on the table like a living thing, faint green tendrils of energy swirling within its crystal-clear surface. You could feel its pull from across the room, an eerie hum that resonated deep in your chest. You couldn’t decide if the sensation was alluring or unnerving.

“It’s been centuries since anyone’s seen the Eye of Vortessa in the physical realm,” you said, your fingers itching to examine it more closely. “How did you find it?”

“I didn’t. It found me,” Doctor Stephen Strange replied, his voice carrying that same arrogant tilt you’d come to expect from him. He leaned casually against a chair, his hands folded across his chest, the crimson Cloak of Levitation draped like a king’s mantle over his broad shoulders.

“Cryptic,” you muttered, earning a faint smirk from him.

The two of you were an unlikely pairing. A brilliant, if infuriating, sorcerer who held the title of Sorcerer Supreme, and you—a historian-turned-sorceress from Kamar-Taj, specializing in arcane artifacts. You’d been called to the Sanctum Sanctorum when it became clear that even Strange was struggling to contain the relic’s growing power.

He hadn’t been thrilled to have you there.

“I work alone,” he’d said on the first day, a dismissive flick of his hand emphasizing the point.

“And yet, you called for help,” you’d shot back, meeting his sharp blue gaze with a defiance that clearly surprised him.

Since then, your days had been consumed by long hours of research, deciphering ancient texts, and debating theories with a man who both fascinated and infuriated you.

Over the next few days, you immersed yourself in the Eye’s history. The relic’s carvings hinted at a dark purpose—its ability to amplify emotions and desires was only the beginning. In the wrong hands, it could manipulate entire realities, bending minds to its will.

“It’s a trap,” you concluded one evening, pushing a book across the table toward Strange.

He glanced at the page, his brow furrowing. “How so?”

“It doesn’t just amplify emotions. It feeds on them. The more unstable the wielder, the stronger it becomes.”

Strange’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Then we’ll have to destroy it.”

“Easier said than done,” you replied. “The last recorded attempt ended with three sorcerers dead and the Eye fully intact.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” he said, his tone almost flippant.

You glared at him. “This isn’t a joke, Strange. If we get this wrong—”

“I don’t get things wrong,” he interrupted, his voice sharp.

The tension crackled between you, and for a moment, you forgot the relic, the case, and everything else. His eyes locked onto yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

“Fine,” you said, breaking the silence. “But we need more information.”

The answer lay in the rift.

The Eye’s power had created a tear in the fabric of reality, a swirling vortex of chaotic energy that connected to an unknown dimension. You and Strange agreed to investigate, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that the plan was reckless at best.

“It’s like staring into the void,” you murmured as you approached the rift with Strange at your side.

He glanced at you, his expression unusually serious. “Stay close to me.”

You nodded, casting a protective spell as he opened the portal. The sensation was immediate—a rush of power and emotion that made your head spin. It felt like the rift was reaching into your very soul, pulling at your deepest fears and desires.

“Don’t let it control you,” Strange said, his voice cutting through the noise.

Easier said than done. The rift amplified everything—the anger you’d felt during your arguments with Strange, the frustration at his arrogance, and the unsettling attraction you’d been trying to ignore since you’d arrived.

The mission was nearly disastrous. You managed to collect a fragment of the rift’s energy, but the process destabilized the vortex, forcing you and Strange to retreat.

Back in the Sanctum, you collapsed into a chair, your heart racing. “That was insane,” you said, glaring at him.

Strange ran a hand through his hair, his own breathing uneven. “You’re welcome.”

“For what? Dragging me into your reckless plans?”

“For saving your life,” he shot back, stepping closer. “Or did you forget the part where I shielded you from the blast?”

You stood, your frustration bubbling over. “And whose fault was the blast in the first place?”

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Neither do you,” you retorted, your pulse quickening as he stepped even closer.

The tension snapped.

Before you could think, his lips were on yours, fierce and demanding. You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping the front of his tunic as he deepened the kiss. His hands were firm on your waist, pulling you against him as the world blurred around you.

The kiss was electric, every pent-up emotion spilling out in a clash of lips and tongues. When he pulled back, his blue eyes were darker than you’d ever seen, his breathing ragged.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.

You were too stunned to speak, your body still tingling from the intensity of the kiss.

“This… complicates things,” he said, his voice strained.

“You think?” you managed, your voice unsteady.

You stood there, your breathing still unsteady, replaying the kiss in your mind. Stephen Strange—the arrogant, insufferable Sorcerer Supreme—had just kissed you. And you had kissed him back.

He was pacing now, running a hand through his hair as though trying to shake off the moment. His eyes flicked to the Eye of Vortessa, still pulsing faintly on the table, as if mocking both of you.

“This is the relic’s influence,” he said finally, his voice strained. “It has to be.”

You crossed your arms, forcing yourself to focus on the case instead of the way his lips had felt against yours. “The Eye may amplify emotions, but it doesn’t create them. If there was nothing there to begin with…”

He froze mid-step, his sharp blue eyes locking onto yours. The silence that followed was suffocating, heavy with unspoken words.

“We can’t afford distractions,” he said at last, his tone colder now, though his gaze lingered on you a moment too long.

“Agreed,” you replied, though your voice wavered.

Still, the moment hung between you, refusing to fade.

Over the next few days, you threw yourself into the research, determined to find a way to neutralize the Eye of Vortessa. But it was harder now, with Strange constantly in your orbit. Every glance, every touch—no matter how innocent—felt charged, as though the relic’s influence was amplifying the growing connection between you.

He was distant, even brusque at times, clearly trying to maintain control. Yet, there were moments when his guard slipped—when his hand would linger on yours during a spell, or when his voice softened as he asked for your input.

The tension came to a head during another late-night study session. The Sanctum was quiet, save for the crackling fire in the corner. You were bent over a text, trying to decipher a particularly cryptic passage, when you felt his presence behind you.

“Find anything?” he asked, his voice close to your ear.

You jumped slightly, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine. “Nothing useful,” you managed, refusing to turn around.

“Let me see,” he said, leaning over your shoulder.

His breath was warm against your neck, and you cursed the way your body reacted. He was too close, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

“Strange…” you began, but your voice trailed off as his hand brushed yours, the touch searing.

“Stop,” he said suddenly, pulling back.

You turned to face him, startled by the raw emotion in his expression. His jaw was tight, his fists clenched at his sides as though he was holding himself back.

“This is getting out of hand,” he said, his voice low. “I can’t think straight when I’m around you.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding. “Maybe it’s the Eye—”

“It’s not just the Eye,” he interrupted, his eyes blazing.

The confession hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, you closed the distance between you.

The kiss this time was slower, more deliberate. His hands cupped your face, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You melted into him, your arms wrapping around his neck as the tension of the past few days finally gave way.

He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged. “You’re driving me mad,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t reply, too caught up in the way his hands slid down to your waist, holding you as though he never wanted to let go.

“Tell me to stop,” he said, his blue eyes searching yours.

“I won’t,” you whispered, pulling him back to you.

The path to his room was a fever dream of heat and tension. Every step was punctuated by the press of his body against yours, the scrape of his teeth along your neck, and the firm grip of his hands on your hips. The Sanctum’s corridors blurred around you, irrelevant in the face of the fire that burned between you both.

By the time you reached his chambers, Stephen spun you around, your back hitting the door with a soft thud. His eyes, dark and wild, searched yours, but no words were exchanged. His lips were on you in an instant, claiming yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. His kiss was demanding, almost bruising, as though he’d been holding back for far too long.

His hands slid up your thighs, his fingertips digging in just enough to leave a ghost of a mark. “You’ve been teasing me all damn day,” he growled against your lips, his voice thick with restrained desire.

You smirked, emboldened by the effect you had on him. “And what are you going to do about it?”

His answering grin was dark, wicked, as his hands moved to the sash of your robe. With one swift motion, he untied it, letting the fabric fall away and leaving you bare before him. His sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the room for a moment, his eyes drinking you in.

“God, you’re stunning,” he murmured, his voice almost reverent.

You reached for his tunic, pulling it up and over his head, revealing the lean, sculpted planes of his chest. His skin was pale, faint scars from battles long past etched into his body like a story written in flesh. You traced one with your fingers, marveling at the strength beneath your touch.

“Like what you see?” he teased, his smirk returning as his hands slid to your waist.

You met his gaze, your lips quirking upward. “I’m not complaining.”

His laugh was low and dark, but it was quickly silenced as he bent to kiss you again, slower this time, as if savoring the moment. His hands explored your body, every curve, every dip, every inch of skin that made you gasp under his touch.

Before you could process his next move, he dropped to his knees, his hands parting your thighs with a firm but gentle insistence. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, his gaze smoldering as his lips pressed to the inside of your thigh.

“Stephen…” You breathed his name, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Say it again,” he commanded, his tone rough as his lips trailed higher.

You barely managed to repeat his name before his mouth was on you, his tongue drawing slow, deliberate strokes that made you cry out. He groaned against you, the vibration sending another jolt of pleasure through your body. His hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he worked, alternating between flicks of his tongue and gentle suction that had you trembling.

When he added his fingers—sliding inside you with expert precision—you nearly came undone. He curled them just right, hitting a spot that made stars explode behind your eyes.

“Fuck, Stephen, don’t stop,” you gasped, your hands threading through his dark hair.

He didn’t stop. He doubled down, his tongue and fingers moving in perfect rhythm until you shattered, your cries echoing through the room. Your legs threatened to give out, but his hands held you firm, guiding you through every wave of pleasure until you were left trembling in his arms.

He pulled back, his lips glistening as he smirked up at you. “You taste fucking incredible,” he said, his voice hoarse.

You barely had time to recover before he stood, his hands helping you to your knees.

“My turn,” he said, his voice a low growl.

You reached for him eagerly, your fingers wrapping around him as you stroked, feeling him throb under your touch. His head tilted back, a groan escaping his lips as you leaned forward, your tongue flicking out to tease him before taking him fully into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hand tangling in your hair. “Just like that.”

You hollowed your cheeks, taking him deeper, relishing the way his body tensed under your touch. His hips rocked forward slightly, and you steadied yourself with your hands on his thighs, your nails digging in just enough to leave faint crescent marks.

“God, you’re so fucking good at this,” he groaned, his voice breaking as you worked him with deliberate, steady movements.

Before he could reach his peak, he pulled you away, his breaths ragged as he guided you back to your feet.

“Come here,” he demanded, his voice soft but commanding.

He guided you onto the bed, his body covering yours as he kissed you deeply, the taste of both of you mingling on his lips. His hands slid down your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When he finally entered you, it was slow, deliberate, as though he wanted you to feel every inch of him.

You gasped, your nails digging into his back as he set a steady rhythm, his movements controlled but intense. “You feel so fucking good,” he murmured, his forehead resting against yours.

The pace quickened, his thrusts deep and deliberate as his name spilled from your lips in a broken cry. He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit a spot that made your entire body arch into his.

“God, Stephen…” you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders.

He flipped you onto your stomach, pulling your hips up as he entered you from behind. His hands gripped your waist, his thrusts rougher now, each one driving you closer to the edge.

“You like this?” he growled, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck.

“Yes,” you cried, your voice trembling. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. He reached around to tease you, his fingers working in tandem with his thrusts until you shattered again, your body trembling as you cried out his name.

He pulled you up, your back flush against his chest as he slowed his movements, his lips trailing over your shoulder. “I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered, his voice dark and seductive.

He laid you back on the bed, his hands guiding your legs to wrap around his waist as he moved over you. This time, his movements were slower, more deliberate, as if he wanted to savor every moment.

“Look at me,” he said, his voice soft but commanding.

Your eyes locked onto his, and the intensity of his gaze was enough to make your breath catch. His hands intertwined with yours, pinning them above your head as he moved, his rhythm building again until you were both on the edge.

When you finally fell together, the pleasure was overwhelming, leaving you both trembling and breathless as the world seemed to fall away.

The room was silent save for the sounds of your intertwined breaths slowly evening out. Stephen’s body hovered above yours for a moment longer, as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to pull away. His forehead rested against yours, and his hand brushed a few damp strands of hair from your face.

“You’re… incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and raw. His lips curved into a small, almost shy smile—a rare crack in the confident mask he wore so effortlessly.

You exhaled a breathy laugh, your hand trailing lazily down his back. “I could say the same about you, Doctor.”

Stephen rolled onto his side, pulling you with him so you were tucked against his chest. His arms enveloped you, his hands large and warm as they traced absent patterns along your spine. You could feel his heartbeat still racing against your cheek.

“Did you expect this?” you asked softly, tilting your head up to look at him.

He smirked, his fingers pausing their lazy exploration to brush your jaw. “No,” he admitted, his tone honest. “I’ve spent so long avoiding this kind of… connection. It complicates things.”

“Do you regret it?”

His gaze darkened slightly, not with anger but with something deeper—something unspoken. He tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing across your lower lip. “No,” he said firmly. “Not for a second.”

A comfortable silence fell between you, the weight of what had just happened settling in the air. You traced the faint scars on his chest, following the lines as if they were a map.

“What are you thinking?” he asked, his voice soft.

“That you’ve lived a thousand lives,” you said, your fingers pausing over a particularly deep scar. “And yet you’re still here.”

He caught your hand, bringing it to his lips. “Because I’m too stubborn to quit.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for a moment, the heaviness of the world outside the room seemed to fade.

But reality began creeping back in. The Sanctum wasn’t just a home—it was a fortress, a place of duty. And outside these walls, a threat still loomed.

As if reading your thoughts, Stephen’s expression sobered. He sat up slightly, propping himself on one arm as he looked down at you. “This isn’t over,” he said, his tone serious. “We still have to decipher the relic.”

You nodded, your mind already shifting back to the danger that had brought you here in the first place. “We definitely do.”

Stephen’s jaw tightened, the sharp angles of his face etched with determination. “We will,” he said, his voice resolute. “But for now…”

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was softer this time, less about urgency and more about grounding the moment. His hand cradled your face, his thumb brushing your cheek as if committing every detail of you to memory.

“For now,” he murmured against your lips, “let’s stay here. Just for a little longer.”

And you did. Wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the outside world momentarily held at bay, you allowed yourself to exist in the fleeting serenity of his presence. The fight would come soon enough, but for now, you were exactly where you needed to be.

When you woke, the morning light was streaming through the gaps in the heavy curtains of Stephen’s chambers, golden and warm. For a moment, everything felt blissfully suspended, like the world had paused just for the two of you.

Stephen was still beside you, propped up on one elbow, his bare chest catching the soft light. His sharp features were relaxed but contemplative as his gaze lingered on you. You smiled sleepily, reaching out to brush your fingers along the stubble on his jaw.

“Good morning,” you murmured.

He didn’t return the smile. Instead, his expression darkened, his eyes pulling away from yours. The shift was subtle but immediate, a wall rising where there had been none before.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up slightly, the sheet slipping down your body.

Stephen hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as though he couldn’t quite find the right words. Finally, he exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his disheveled hair. “This… was a mistake,” he said, his voice clipped and low.

The words struck like a blow, the warmth of the morning instantly replaced by a chill. “A mistake?” you repeated, incredulous. “You didn’t seem to think it was a mistake last night.”

“That was last night,” he snapped, then winced at his own tone. He rose from the bed, pulling on his pants and tunic with quick, jerky movements. His back was to you, the tension in his shoulders palpable.

You felt the heat of anger rising in your chest, cutting through the sting of his words. “So that’s it? You get what you want, and now you’re done?”

He spun around, his eyes flashing. “Don’t make it sound so simple. You know it’s more complicated than that.”

“Do I?” You stood, wrapping the sheet around you as you faced him. “Because all I see is a man who’s so afraid of letting someone in that he’d rather push them away than deal with his own feelings.”

Stephen’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked as though he might argue. But then he turned away again, his voice quieter this time. “I can’t afford distractions. And you… you deserve more than this.”

Your heart clenched, his words twisting the knife even deeper. “Don’t you dare try to make this sound noble,” you said, your voice trembling with anger. “If you wanted to push me away, just say so. But don’t pretend this is for my benefit.”

He didn’t respond, his silence saying more than words ever could. Frustrated and hurt, you grabbed your clothes, dressing quickly as tears threatened to spill.

“Fine,” you said, your voice icy. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll go. But don’t expect me to come running back when you realize what a mistake you’ve made.”

With that, you stormed out, slamming the door behind you.

The following days at the Sanctum were agonizing. You threw yourself into your research, determined to ignore Stephen’s presence entirely. The tension between you was palpable, the air in the Sanctum heavy with unspoken words and lingering glances.

Stephen avoided you, retreating into his work and barely speaking unless absolutely necessary. You could see the strain on his face, the shadows under his eyes growing darker with each passing day. But you refused to be the one to break the silence.

When Wong asked if something was wrong, you brushed it off with a forced smile. “Just a difference of opinion,” you said, though the words tasted bitter.

Stephen, for his part, seemed to unravel further. He became more irritable, snapping at Wong and pacing the Sanctum’s halls like a caged animal. You caught him watching you once, his gaze soft and almost apologetic, but when your eyes met, he quickly looked away.

The distance between you was unbearable, but your pride wouldn’t let you bridge the gap. If he wanted to fix this, he would have to be the one to make the first move.

It was late one night when the knock came at your door. You hesitated, your heart pounding as you considered ignoring it. But something in the quiet desperation of the sound made you rise.

When you opened the door, Stephen stood there, looking exhausted and vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, he said nothing, as if he didn’t know where to begin.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorframe. “For what, exactly?”

“For being an idiot,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “For pushing you away. For hurting you.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I was scared,” he admitted. “Of what this means. Of what you mean to me.”

Your resolve wavered at the raw honesty in his voice, but you weren’t ready to let him off the hook just yet. “And what do I mean to you, Stephen?”

He stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush yours. “Everything,” he said simply. “You mean everything.”

The anger and hurt you’d been holding onto melted away, replaced by a flood of relief and affection. You stepped aside, letting him in, and the moment the door closed, he pulled you into his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple.

“I’ve missed you too,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest.

He tilted your chin up, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and tender, a stark contrast to the desperate passion of your first night together. His hands cupped your face as though you were something precious, his thumb brushing your cheek as he deepened the kiss.

Stephen’s lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. Gone was the frantic desperation of before; this kiss was deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every second, every sensation. His hands cradled your face as though you were something fragile, something he was terrified of breaking.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths coming in shallow pants. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, his voice trembling slightly. “For everything.”

You reached up, your fingers brushing against his jaw, feeling the faint stubble beneath your touch. “I know,” you murmured, your voice soft but steady. “But you can’t keep doing this, Stephen. You can’t keep pushing me away whenever things get hard.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But then he nodded, his hands slipping down to rest on your waist. “I won’t,” he said, his tone resolute. “I promise.”

The weight of his words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning. Slowly, he guided you backward until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. His hands were gentle as he lowered you onto the mattress, his body following yours in one fluid motion.

“I need you to understand something,” he said, his voice low as his fingers traced the curve of your cheek. “You’re not just someone I care about. You’ve become… essential to me. And that terrifies me.”

You reached up, threading your fingers through his dark hair. “You don’t have to be afraid,” you whispered. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His lips found yours again, and this time the kiss deepened, the tenderness giving way to a slow-burning passion. His hands roamed your body with reverence, his touch igniting a fire in your veins.

Stephen’s kisses trailed down your neck, each press of his lips sending shivers through your body. His hands found the hem of your shirt, tugging it upward until you lifted your arms to let him pull it off. His eyes darkened as they roamed over your bare skin, his lips curving into a soft smile.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

You reached for his tunic, your fingers brushing against the fabric as you helped him pull it over his head. The sight of his bare chest—the lean muscles, the faint scars that marked his skin—made your breath hitch. You ran your hands over him, tracing the lines of his body with a mixture of curiosity and admiration.

Stephen’s lips found yours again as he lowered you back onto the bed, his hands moving to the waistband of your pants. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze meeting yours as if asking for permission. When you nodded, he slid them down, leaving you bare beneath him.

He paused, his eyes raking over your body with an intensity that made your cheeks flush. “You’re perfect,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your hands found the waistband of his pants, and he helped you push them down, leaving the two of you completely exposed. The weight of him above you, the warmth of his skin against yours, made your heart race.

Stephen kissed you again, his hands exploring every inch of your body. His touch was gentle, reverent, as though he was rediscovering you for the first time. His lips trailed down your neck, over your collarbone, and lower still, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

When he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his eyes meeting yours. “Tell me what you want,” he said, his voice a low growl.

Your breath hitched, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you. “I want you,” you whispered.

Stephen smirked, his lips brushing against your inner thigh. “You’ll have me,” he promised. “But not before I’ve had you.”

His mouth found you, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that made your back arch off the bed. You cried out his name, your fingers threading through his hair as he worked, his hands holding your hips steady. He teased you relentlessly, alternating between flicks of his tongue and gentle suction that drove you to the edge.

When his fingers joined the fray, sliding inside you with practiced precision, you nearly came undone. He curled them just right, hitting a spot that made your vision blur.

“Stephen, please,” you gasped, your body trembling beneath him.

He pulled back, his lips glistening as he smirked up at you. “Patience,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

You didn’t have time to protest before he shifted, pulling you up so that you were straddling his lap. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you sank onto him, the sensation overwhelming.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back as you began to move.

The rhythm started slow, his hands guiding your movements as your bodies found a perfect rhythm. His lips found yours again, the kiss messy and desperate as he whispered your name like a prayer.

The pace quickened, his hands roaming your body as he met each of your movements with a thrust of his own. You cried out his name, your nails digging into his shoulders as he flipped you onto your back.

He moved over you with a precision that spoke to his meticulous nature, his thrusts deep and deliberate. Every movement, every touch, was calculated to bring you as much pleasure as possible.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough as his hands gripped your thighs.

Your eyes met his, and the intensity of his gaze was enough to make your breath catch. His hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he pressed your hands into the mattress above your head.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

When you finally fell, the pleasure was overwhelming, your body trembling as his name spilled from your lips. He followed moments later, his body tensing above yours as he let out a hoarse cry.

The room was quiet now, save for the soft hum of your mingled breaths. Stephen’s body was still pressed against yours, his weight comforting rather than heavy. The warmth of his skin blanketed you, and the faint sheen of sweat on both your bodies caught the dim light filtering through the Sanctum’s heavy drapes.

Stephen’s face was buried in the crook of your neck, his breath tickling your skin. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with meaning. His arms tightened around you slightly, as though afraid you might slip away if he let go.

Your fingers moved lazily across the broad expanse of his back, tracing the lines of his muscles and the faint scars that marked his skin. “You’re quiet,” you said softly, your voice breaking the stillness.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours. The usual sharpness in his gaze was softened now, replaced by something tender and unguarded. “I’m thinking,” he admitted, his voice hoarse but steady.

“About what?”

He hesitated, his thumb brushing absentmindedly over your hip. “About how close I came to losing this. To losing you.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you reached up to cup his face, your fingers brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. “You didn’t lose me, Stephen,” you said firmly. “I’m here.”

“For now,” he murmured, his gaze flickering down. “But I’ve learned the hard way that nothing stays forever. People leave. Or I drive them away.”

You frowned, your heart aching for him. “I’m not going anywhere,” you said, your tone resolute. “And you’re not going to drive me away. Not unless you push me.”

His lips twitched into a faint, self-deprecating smile. “That’s what I’m good at, isn’t it? Pushing people away.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But you’re also good at pulling them back when it matters.”

He exhaled a soft laugh, his forehead pressing against yours. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” you said, your voice softening. “But nothing worth having ever is.”

For a moment, he said nothing, his eyes searching yours as though trying to find some hidden truth. Then, without a word, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was gentle and unhurried, filled with a quiet intensity that made your heart ache.

When he pulled back, he shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look at you more fully. His fingers trailed absentmindedly over your arm, the touch featherlight.

“What happens now?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled faintly, your hand brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “That’s up to us,” you said simply.

His lips curved into a small smile, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “Us,” he repeated, as though testing the word.

“Yes, us,” you said firmly.

The days that followed were a delicate balance, but there was a new openness between you and Stephen now. He was still Stephen—brilliant, stubborn, and frustratingly closed-off at times—but he was trying.

You caught him watching you more often, his gaze soft and contemplative, as though he were still trying to process the fact that you were there, that you weren’t going anywhere.

Wong noticed the change too, though he said nothing directly. Instead, he offered you a knowing smile when Stephen’s hand brushed yours during a conversation or when you caught him lingering in a room you were in, his presence silent but steady.

The case with the relic was eventually resolved. It was a reminder of the chaos and danger that would always be a part of your lives, but it was also a reminder of why you’d chosen to stay.

One evening, as you sat together in the Sanctum’s library, poring over a particularly complex text, Stephen reached for your hand. The gesture was subtle, almost hesitant, but when your fingers intertwined, he relaxed slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I never imagined myself capable of… this. Of being with someone.”

You looked at him, your heart swelling at the vulnerability in his tone. “You’re better at it than you think,” you said softly.

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “I’ll take your word for it.”

As the firelight flickered across his features, you realized that while the road ahead might not be easy, it would be worth it.

For the first time in a long time, Stephen Strange wasn’t just surviving. He was living—and he was doing it with you by his side.

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