#also!!!!! we should be drawing him with veils more often

[purpleguysimp]

Lankmann is just an 80s joey drew in my mind

[thewulf]

Teaching Trails || Azriel

Summary: Request - can i request a teacher reader x azriel where she's Nyx's teacher/tutor and feyre or rhysand asks az to pick him up since they're busy and he swears he falls in love on sight seeing reader be so sweet on Nyxie and how comfortable Nyx is around reader? just something sweet and fluffy and maybe a super nervous az when reader notices him at the doorway?? You can decide the rest. love your work!

A/N: Ahhhh I loved writing this. Idk I just picture Nyx as a sweet bubbly 5/6 year old in this. Adored writing this!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Night Court Reader)

Word Count: 5.0k +

TW: Use of Magic (fluffy!!)

As you stand at the edge of one of the many expansive terraces of the House of Wind, the air around you is crisp, the sky a clear, deep blue above the sprawling city of Velaris below. This majestic residence is perched like an eagle's nest atop a solitary mountain and commands a breathtaking view of the Night Court. Its beauty a sure giveaway to ancient power and elegance. Yet despite its grandeur there’s a poignant isolation to it. Especially for young Nyx, whose days are spent within these walls that soar closer to the stars than to the streets where other children play.

Inside the palace is a labyrinth of ornate halls and vast chambers. Each room a masterpiece of art and architecture designed for gods rather than a playful child. The echo of Nyx’s laughter often bounces off the high ceilings. A reminder of the solitude that accompanies his royal upbringing. He is a small but vibrant figure roaming the endless corridors exploring shadowed corners and hidden nooks. His solitude veiled by the splendor surrounding him.

It's during one such quiet evening as the horizon painted a watercolor of twilight hues that Feyre brings up her growing concern to Rhysand. They are in their private chambers. A place where the masks of High Lord and Lady can be set aside. Where vulnerabilities can be voiced without the weight of a crown.

"Nyx needs more than just us. He needs more than this palace," Feyre starts with her voice steady yet filled with an urgency that draws Rhysand’s full attention. "He’s missing out on normal interactions. The kind that happen away from royal duties and ceremonial greetings. He’s a child. He should be learning through play, through friendships formed in mud and laughter. Not just in state rooms and formal gardens."

Rhysand’s expression is torn. As a father he yearns for Nyx to have every happiness the world can offer. But as a ruler the thought of his son, so precious and so exposed, wandering beyond the enchanted safety of their home is daunting. "It's dangerous, Feyre," he counters. His voice laced with a protective edge. "The world isn’t always kind, especially not to those of royal blood."

"But isn’t it more dangerous to raise him in a bubble? How will he learn to lead? To understand his people, if he only ever sees them from a balcony or at formal events?" Feyre’s hands gesture emphatically. Her eyes alight with passion. "We need to let him explore, Rhys. We need to let him be a child. Not just a prince." Their conversation stretches into the night. Debates entwined with silent contemplations until a resolution begins to dawn much like the first light over the Sidra. Rhysand’s fears don’t dissipate entirely but his love for Nyx and his trust in Feyre’s instincts lead him to a concession.

"Alright," he says finally. A reluctant smile breaking through his concerns. "We’ll find him a teacher. Someone who can guide him, teach him, yes, but also someone who can take him beyond these walls. Let him learn about life. About our people through his own experiences. Not just through stories and reports."

Feyre’s relief is palpable and together they set out to find the perfect candidate. The search is exhaustive with candidates from across Prythian and beyond interviewed. They seek not just an educator but a guardian of sorts. Someone who understands the delicate balance of nurturing a child like Nyx. Someone who can foster his curiosity and protect his spirit.

The search for a tutor for young Nyx was not a decision taken lightly. Within the ornate conference room of the House of Wind, Feyre, Rhysand, and other key members of the Inner Circle—save for Azriel, who was away on duty—gathered to commence the rigorous interview process. The room was filled with an air of solemnity as each candidate presented themselves. Their credentials scrutinized not just for academic excellence but for a deeper understanding and alignment with the values of the Night Court.

Mor, with her keen sense of people, led the questioning. Her bright eyes missing nothing. Cassian injected moments of levity lightening the mood with his humor. While Amren's piercing gaze seemed to delve into the very souls of the candidates searching for sincerity and resilience. Each member of the Inner Circle brought their own perspective ensuring that the chosen teacher would not only educate Nyx academically but would also nurture his emotional and cultural development.

Then you entered the room. With a demeanor both warm and composed you introduced yourself. As you spoke about your educational philosophy making sure to emphasize experiential learning and emotional intelligence the panel was visibly impressed. Your background in educational psychology coupled with your years of experience teaching in diverse environments highlighted your capability to adapt and thrive in any teaching scenario. More importantly your genuine passion for fostering young minds resonated deeply with Feyre who nodded appreciatively at your thoughtful answers.

Throughout the interview, your approach to education which focused on developing both the intellect and the heart of a student was clearly aligned with the Night Court's ideals. You spoke of the importance of understanding each student's unique needs and adapting lessons to fit those needs. Even suggesting outdoor classes and cultural excursions that would allow Nyx to learn about his heritage in a tangible, engaging way.

As the interviews concluded and the candidates departed the room buzzed with discussions. It was clear to everyone that you stood out not just for your qualifications but for the gentle strength you exhibited. A trait they all deemed perfect for handling the sensitive nature of their prince's education.

When the decision was made Feyre personally reached out to offer you the position. The joy and excitement in your voice as you accepted was palpable. Aware of the immense responsibility of teaching the heir of the Night Court you were nonetheless thrilled by the opportunity to make a significant impact in a young child's life.

As you prepared to step into this new role your heart was buoyant with anticipation. Not just for the challenges ahead but for the chance to contribute to shaping a future leader of the Night Court. The trust placed in you by such revered figures was not just an honor but a truth to your life's work and passion igniting a fervent desire to start this new chapter.

In the heart of Velaris away from the towering isolation of the House of Wind you spend a delightful morning with Nyx at one of the city's lush public gardens. The day is warm. The gentle buzz of the city a distant backdrop to the laughter and learning that fills the air around the two of you.

You laid out a picnic blanket under the shade of a towering silverleaf tree. The spread covered with books, sketchpads, and an assortment of colorful pencils. Today's lesson is about the flora and fauna of Prythian. A topic that has Nyx bubbling with excitement and curiosity. As he sketches a butterfly that landed briefly on the edge of your blanket you explain the role of pollinators in the ecosystem, delighted by his insightful questions and the meticulous care he takes with his drawing.

"Nyx, do you see how the colors of its wings can tell us about its environment?" you ask as you were pointing to the delicate patterns that mirror the blooms around you.

"Yes!" he exclaims. His eyes lighting up with understanding. "It’s like camouflage, right? They blend in to stay safe from predators!"

"Exactly," you reply. Your heart swelling with pride at his quick grasp of the concepts.

The lesson shifts seamlessly from science to history as you guide Nyx through the stories of the Night Court. Each tale woven into the landmarks visible from your spot in the garden. Nyx listens, rapt, as you tell him about the ancient fae who once walked these paths. The battles they fought and the peace that now thrives in their stead.

As the morning progresses Nyx's natural curiosity leads him to a question that makes you pause. His small voice tinged with genuine wonder. "Why don't you have wings like my mom, dad, Uncle Cassian and Uncle Az? Like that pretty butterfly?" he asks. His head tilting as he regards you thoughtfully.

You smile softly, touched by his innocent inquiry. "Well, not all fae have wings, Nyx. Just like not all flowers have thorns," you explain using an analogy you know he'll understand. "Each of us is unique with different abilities and gifts. It’s what makes us all special in our own way."

Nyx nods considering this. "I think it’s cool you don’t need wings to fly. You have books and stories that can take you anywhere," he decides with a wise look crossing his features that makes you chuckle.

"That’s a wonderful way to put it, Nyx. And remember, we all have our own ways of soaring," you say ruffling his hair affectionately.

As you begin to pack up the day's learning materials you lean closer to Nyx with a conspiratorial whisper. "Tomorrow, we’re going to do something special. We'll join a class with other children your age. You’ll get to play and learn together with them," you tell him watching his face light up with sheer delight.

"Really? I'll have friends to play with?" His voice is filled with excitement. His earlier thoughts about wings forgotten in the anticipation of meeting new friends.

"Absolutely," you assure him sharing in his excitement. "It’ll be a lot of fun and you’ll make lots of new friends."

Nyx's eyes sparkle with anticipation as he begins to imagine the possibilities. "I'm going to tell mom and dad all about it tonight!" he exclaims already planning out his evening conversation. "And I’ll tell Uncle Az too. He likes hearing about my adventures."

The mention of Azriel, whom you've only heard about through Nyx’s enthusiastic stories, adds an interesting layer to your perception of the mysterious figure. "That sounds like a great idea," you respond, amused, and intrigued by Nyx’s affectionate mention of his uncle. "It seems Uncle Az is quite the hero in your stories."

"Yeah! He’s really cool! He can disappear like a shadow and is always on secret missions," Nyx says. His admiration for Azriel evident in his wide eyes and animated gestures.

The day ends with Nyx bouncing along the path back to you classroom chatting animatedly about all the things he hopes to do with the other children. His excitement about sharing his upcoming school day with his family, especially with his beloved Uncle Az, whom you've yet to meet but feel like you already know through Nyx's tales, fills the air with joy.

Your heart warms at his enthusiasm knowing that these new experiences are exactly what he needs. As Nyx sketches another flower with his small hand moving confidently you know these moments of joy and anticipation are as precious to him as they are to you, nurturing not just a young prince’s mind but also his spirit. The connections he's building with his family, with you, and soon with his peers are shaping him into a thoughtful, well-rounded individual, ready to explore the world with confidence and curiosity.

As the sun begins to dip below the horizon casting a warm, golden light through the windows of your classroom the day's adventures wind down to a quieter, more reflective pace. You sit in a cozy corner of the room on a soft, plush cushioned area you've set up specifically for reading. Nyx nestles beside you as his energy from earlier now softened into the gentle tiredness of a day well spent. In your hands a beautifully illustrated book about the legends of Prythian opens to a page where the heroic deeds of ancient warriors are painted in vivid colors.

As you read aloud, your voice smooth and soothing, Nyx's eyelids begin to flutter gently. You notice his weary smile as he listens. The adventures of the day transforming into the adventures in the pages. Gently, almost instinctively, you begin to caress his hair. Smoothing it back from his forehead in a tender, rhythmic motion. It's a peaceful scene, the kind of simple, heartfelt moment that often goes unnoticed in the bustling life of the Night Court.

Unknown to you his Uncle Azriel stands at the doorway having arrived to pick up Nyx. He pauses there, a silent observer, taken aback by the tranquility and warmth of the tableau before him. His task had been simple. He was to retrieve Nyx and bring him home but the scene he encounters tugs at something deep within him. A longing for such unguarded peace.

Azriel watches as Nyx's breathing deepens, the sweet child drifting closer to sleep with each gentle brush of your hand. Your care for Nyx, so natural and affectionate, strikes a chord in Azriel. He's seen many facets of life. So many forms of relationships and bonds but the simplicity and purity of this moment resonate with him profoundly.

He remains there at the threshold hesitant to interrupt the moment. He was captivated by the gentleness of your interactions with Nyx. The world he usually inhabits—one of shadows and secrets—feels miles away from the soft warmth of this sunlit room. In this pause Azriel realizes that his task isn't just about escorting Nyx. It's about respecting and appreciating the sacred, everyday magic that people like you bring into Nyx's life.

Eventually though the story comes to an unfortunate end, and you close the book before looking down at Nyx to see him fully asleep. A contented expression on his young face. As you carefully consider how to wake him Azriel finally clears his throat softly announcing his presence.

You look up, startled slightly, your eyes meeting his for the first time. There's a moment of mutual acknowledgment. A silent appreciation for the scene he's just witnessed. An understanding that while your worlds may be different the care you show to Nyx bridges them beautifully. Azriel steps into the room. His movements gentle as he did not want to disturb the serene atmosphere you've created.

"Thank you for taking such good care of him," Azriel says quietly. His voice carrying a warmth that surprises even him. "He obviously treasures these moments with you."

"You're welcome. It's truly a pleasure teaching him," you reply with a warm smile. Your eyes reflecting genuine affection for Nyx.

As you gently wake Nyx his eyes flutter open gradually clearing as they adjust to the presence of another in the room. When he spots Azriel standing quietly by the door a bright, sleepy smile spreads across his face. He quickly scrambles to his feet, excitement replacing any remnants of sleepiness.

"Uncle Az!" Nyx exclaims. His voice filled with delight as he runs into Azriel's open arms. Azriel catches him effortlessly before lifting him into a warm hug. They share a moment, uncle and nephew reunited, their easy laughter filling the room. You grin recognizing him as the infamous Azriel in Nyx’s life.

Then as if struck by a sudden realization Nyx turns back towards you with a look of proud excitement lighting up his features. With a firm grip on Azriel's hand he pulls him closer to you and announces, "This is Miss Y/N, my favorite teacher ever!" His voice carries through the room filled with genuine admiration and joy.

Azriel's gaze shifts to you. A slight tension beneath his calm demeanor as he processes Nyx's enthusiastic introduction. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he says, his voice steady but softer than usual, a subtle undercurrent of nervousness mingling with his words.

You smile warmly, extending your hand in greeting. "I've heard a lot about you, Azriel. Nyx tells me you're quite the hero," you say. Your tone light and inviting.

Azriel takes your hand and for a moment his usual composure falters under your gaze. He's momentarily taken aback not just by the warmth of your smile but by the unexpected impact of your presence. She's beautiful, he thinks, and kind... The realization that he's slightly awestruck surprises him. He finds himself momentarily lost for words.

"And I've heard you've been learning about heroes in your lessons with Nyx," he manages to say his voice carrying a hint of warmth that rarely surfaces. Nyx obviously pleased with the exchange claps his hands excitedly.

"Can we all walk back home together?" Nyx asks looking up at both of you with hopeful, bright eyes, “Please!” He adds in for good measure as if you weren’t going to immediately say yes to him.

"Of course, Nyx," Azriel responds after looking to you for confirmation.

You nod, gathering your belongings, and the three of you step out into the cool evening of Velaris. As you walk Nyx fills the air with chatter about his day seamlessly weaving together his two worlds with tales of butterflies and ancient warriors. Azriel listens with a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. His initial nervousness easing as he's drawn into the simple joy of the moment. His thoughts linger on you, intrigued, and unexpectedly moved by the genuine connection forming between you, Nyx, and himself. A beautiful end to an enriching day.

As the three of you begin your walk back through the twilight streets of Velaris the usual calm that Azriel embodies seems to waver slightly. He is typically a figure of stoic composure, his presence both commanding and elusive shadowed by the mysteries of his duties as the Spymaster. However, today, as he walks beside you, something is distinctly different.

Azriel's steps are measured. His usual fluid grace tempered by a hint of uncertainty. His glances towards you are quick, almost cautious, as if he's trying to decipher an unfamiliar script. The conversation flows easily around Nyx's enthusiastic chatter about his day but each time you turn your attention directly to Azriel a subtle tension flickers across his features.

"You really have a wonderful way with Nyx," you say hoping to bridge the gap with kindness. "He's always so excited to share what he's learned with you."

Azriel nods. A slight flush visible beneath the dusky hue of his skin. "Thank you," he murmurs as his voice is softer than usual. "It's... it's good to see him so happy. You do a lot for him."

The simplicity of your interactions, the easy smiles and gentle teasing you offer to Nyx, resonate with Azriel in a way that is both heartening and unnerving. He's unaccustomed to feeling this way—unsettled yet drawn in, eager yet shy. His hands though normally steady and sure whether wielding a weapon or a shadow clench slightly at his sides betraying his internal struggle.

As Nyx runs ahead a little, bursting with energy as he recounts another part of his day, Azriel takes a moment to compose himself. He glances at you again. This time holding your gaze a moment longer than before. The vulnerability rarely seen by others is palpable now as it was a quiet admission of his nervousness.

"I'm... not usually this unsure," Azriel confesses quietly almost to himself. "But there's something about these moments…. seeing Nyx so at ease with you. It's more comforting than I anticipated."

Your response is a gentle smile, one that acknowledges his admission without pressing further. It's a smile that seems to say you understand that the quiet spaces between words can be filled with kindness, not just silence.

The rest of the walk continues with a softer ease. A budding respect forming amidst the shared glances and the fading light of day. Azriel's initial nervousness slowly ebbs away instead replaced by a quiet appreciation for the unexpected warmth this evening has brought into his usually guarded world.

As the three of you approach the grandeur of the House of Wind, the towering structure casts long shadows over the cobblestone paths. It’s presence as awe-inspiring as it is imposing. Nyx who was still bubbling with energy despite the day's adventures, rushes ahead. Clearly he was eager to recount his tales to Feyre and Rhysand. You pause at the entrance. The vast doors open as if welcoming back its prince.

"It's been a wonderful day, Nyx," you say, giving him a soft hug. "Don't forget to draw that butterfly we talked about!"

"I won't, Miss Y/N!" Nyx promises. His voice echoing slightly in the vast entryway. He turns and dashes inside as his laughter lingered in the air.

You turn to Azriel with a smile gracing your lips. "Thank you for letting me share part of your evening. I should head back home now."

Azriel’s expression shifts. Concern etching his features. "It’s getting late," he observes while glancing at the skies, now painted with the deep blues and purples of dusk. "Please, allow me to walk you back to your home. The streets can be less than forgiving at this hour."

You pause appreciating his concern but ready to reassure him of your safety. "That’s very kind of you, Azriel, but it’s no worry. I know these streets well," you say as you turned to make your way down the path.

Before you can take more than a few steps a subtle but firm presence stops you. Looking down you see one of Azriel’s shadows has stretched out across the path in front of you almost playfully barring your way. It's a gentle unspoken plea that catches you by surprise echoing Azriel’s silent wish for you not to go alone.

Azriel takes a step forward. His gaze earnest. "I would truly feel better if I could ensure your safe return. Please," he adds. A rare hint of vulnerability in his voice that you hadn't expected.

Seeing the genuine concern in his eyes and touched by his quiet insistence you nod to him with a smile spreading across your face. "Alright, Azriel, if it means that much to you then I’d welcome the company," you agree. The warmth in your tone matching the softness in his eyes.

"Thank you," he replies visibly relieved. He quickly steps inside to ensure Nyx is settled and returns to you with a more relaxed demeanor ready to accompany you.

As you and Azriel begin the walk back to your home the streets of Velaris are bathed in the gentle glow of the stars and softly lit lanterns casting an enchanting light over the cobblestones. The atmosphere lends a serene backdrop to the conversation that begins to unfold between you.

"You know, Nyx speaks so highly of you," you start by breaking the initial silence with a warm tone. "He's always so excited after spending time with you. You must have some exciting tales from your duties."

Azriel chuckles softly. A sound so serene that it seems to dance in the night air. "Nyx has a way of making everything sound more thrilling than it might actually be. But yes, there are times when my duties hold some... intrigue." He pause, as if weighing what to share. "Mostly, I'm just ensuring that the court and our lands are safe. It's not always as adventurous as Nyx might depict."

"And what about when you're not cloaked in shadows and mystery?" you ask genuinely curious about the man beside you beyond his role as the Spymaster.

A hint of surprise flickers across Azriel's face. Surprised yet pleased by the interest you’re showing in him. "I enjoy solitude, usually. Reading, training... Though I have a fondness for sword making. It’s a craft that requires precision and patience much like my usual work but with a more tangible, creative result."

"Sword making? That’s fascinating," you remark smiling at the thought. "It must be rewarding to create something so intricate and vital."

"It is," he agrees. His voice softening ever so slightly. "And what about you? What do you enjoy doing in your free time?"

You nod before reflecting on your simple pleasures. "I love hiking and just watching nature. There’s something peaceful about observing the natural world. Just seeing how it exists so beautifully without any need for interference."

The conversation flows naturally from there. The earlier apprehension melting into a mutual appreciation for each other’s hobbies and life outside of official duties. As you talk Azriel’s steps seem to synchronize with yours. His presence an incredibly comforting shadow by your side.

When you finally reach your doorstep the city around you has quieted even further. The only sounds being the distant murmur of the Night Court's nightlife and the gentle rustling of leaves. Azriel pauses, standing just a bit closer than before. His usually guarded demeanor dimmed under the starlight.

"Thank you for allowing me to walk you home," he says. His voice sincere and gentle as if reflecting the calmness of the evening.

"It was my pleasure," you respond, finding yourself reluctant to end the conversation. "I enjoyed our talk, Azriel. It’s nice to see the person behind the shadows."

He smiles. A true smile that reaches his eyes making them sparkle with a rare lightness. "I did as well. More than I expected. Perhaps we could do this again, maybe take a hike together?"

"I’d like that," you agree. Your heart light with the promise of future conversations, of shared paths both literal and metaphorical.

"Good night, Miss Y/N. Take care," Azriel says as he steps back ready to meld back into the shadows from which he came.

"Good night, Azriel. And thank you… for everything tonight," you call after him. A smile still playing on your lips as you watch him disappear into the night. The connection between you both stronger and sweeter for the shared walk under Velaris’ starlit sky.

In the days that follow Azriel finds himself inventing reasons to visit your classroom or accompany Nyx to his lessons more often than strictly necessary. Each visit, purportedly to check on Nyx’s educational progress or to discuss scheduling with you becomes a cherished opportunity for him to engage in brief, yet meaningful conversations with you.

Each encounter, ostensibly casual, subtly deepens his affection and admiration for you. He begins to notice the small details: the way your eyes light up when discussing a new teaching method, the gentle patience with which you guide Nyx through difficult lessons, and the enthusiasm that bubbles up when you talk about your nature hikes. Azriel who was typically reserved and composed finds himself drawn into your world of vibrant enthusiasm and heartfelt dedication.

One afternoon as Azriel stands somewhat hidden by the doorway of your classroom just like he did that first day he met you observes a particularly touching scene. Nyx, having mastered a particularly tricky spell, turns to you with a triumphant grin. You laugh, your joy as vivid as the sparkle in Nyx's eyes. He swears your laughter seems to light up the room.

Watching this Azriel feels a warmth spread through him. A warmth that has little to do with the sun filtering in through the windows. It’s in this simple, unguarded moment that he realizes his feelings for you have deepened beyond mere admiration. He's not just falling for your kindness towards Nyx but also for the genuine spirit and infectious joy you bring into every interaction.

As he steps away from the doorway with a thoughtful smile playing on his lips Azriel knows that what he feels is something profound and undeniable. Your spirit which was so vibrant and full of life calls to him in a way that no one else ever has. And as he walks away with his shadows trailing behind him he’s certain of one thing. He wants to explore where this connection might lead not just for Nyx's sake but for his own heart’s as well.

After ensuring that Nyx was safely back at the House of Wind you begin to make your way back towards your home. The day's light is waning casting long shadows that stretch across the cobblestone streets of Velaris, adding a mystical allure to the city’s evening charm.

As you step forward, the sound of your footsteps is a soft echo in the quieting city. You're lost in thought pondering the pleasant interaction with Nyx and looking forward to the solitude of your evening walk home. However, before you can get far you hear Azriel’s voice calling out from behind you.

“Wait, please!” His tone carries a blend of urgency and hesitation that halt’s you in your tracks.

You turn around surprised to see him approaching quickly. His usually composed demeanor replaced by a slight breathlessness. The shadows that always linger around him seem to pulse in sync with the heightened beat of his heart.

Azriel catches up to you. His expression earnest. “I just wanted to ask properly,” he starts, his voice steadying as he meets your gaze. “Would you join me for a hike this evening? There’s a trail not far from here that’s especially beautiful in the evening light. I think you’d really enjoy the views, and...” He pauses before taking a breath reassuring himself, “I would really enjoy the company.”

Your smile deepens, touched by his sincerity and the vulnerable way he presents his request. The softening of his features and the hopeful look in his eyes paint a picture of a man stepping beyond the shadows that define him.

“I would love to, Azriel,” you reply warmly. Your voice filled with genuine excitement. “It sounds like a perfect way to end the day.”

Relief washes over Azriel’s face. His usual stoic mask giving way to a rare, genuine smile. “Thank you,” he says as if a weight was lifting from his shoulders. “Shall we meet at the edge of the city in half an hour?”

“That sounds wonderful,” you agree already anticipating the quiet beauty of the trail and the shared moments ahead.

As you both part ways to prepare for the evening hike the anticipation of the upcoming adventure brings a new spring to your step. Azriel turns back once more watching you walk away, his heart lighter. He realizes just how much he’s looking forward to exploring not only the natural wonders of Velaris but also the potential of a new and blossoming relationship with you. The thought brings that rare and hopeful smile to his lips. One that he carries with him as he disappears into the shadows to ready himself for the evening.

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[radioiaci]

|| @cannibalxroses || Hello, I would like to chime in on this since it seems to be a matter of uhhh public concern now and I think it's time I said something! Putting it under a read-more because it'll be a little lengthy. Know that I want this to be as respectful as possible and that I am not upset or mad or anything about anything that's been going on! I just have some opinions and context to provide.

I have not made it a secret that I feel as though my portrayal of Alastor is veering more steadily towards MLM/gay relationships. This is just something I've discovered over the course of writing him. Now, when I initially posted about it, I made it clear that this does not mean that I wanted to outright dissolve or otherwise write off ships with female characters!

But in a similar vein to how literally every interaction with him is under the veil of his aro/ace experience, so too would every interaction be colored by the fact that he is starting to prefer men. This can lead to some VERY interesting conflict and nuance as these are all topics that I LOVE to explore via his inner monologue. And he is NOT ALWAYS going to make SMART or FAIR decisions to his partners as a result; both men and women. And I think that's a perfectly great way to explore lots of pathways for a ship. (All of his ships in general are never going to be 100% healthy. Alastor is a jealous, possessive, violent, and often emotionally DEAD individual.)

In this verse in particular, he cares about Rosie and does love her. He has explored sexual relations with her on a few occasions and he didn't dislike them (he, in fact, enjoyed them, given the context) - but I will say that outright, he is hard pressed to consider himself attracted to her as a default. This is ALSO coupled with the fact that Alastor - IN ALL of his relationships - has a very hard time getting his libido to react. It requires some specific parameters that can sometimes be a lot of work. And sexual interactions may not always be reciprocated or go as planned.

WITH THAT CONTEXT IN MIND:

Prior to the Unholy Crusade event, I was of an understanding that we could absolutely continue having he and Rosie be together and be married. I think that is an interesting plot point for him to have to cope with his sexuality (as well as the torch he still holds for Vox) in a married/committed relationship with a woman; particularly a woman who he very much cherishes still.

BUT - I know that when I get into those topics, I get VERY WORDY. I get VERY NOVELLA in my responses and that is not everyone's cup of tea. It was my understanding that, over time, some of Xixi's interest in those types of posts began to wane or she otherwise started to prefer short, sillier interactions with other characters, WHICH IS 100% OKAY AND FINE AND I HARBOR NO ILL WILL TOWARDS ANYONE INVOLVED, XIXI INCLUDED. Everyone is allowed to cater their experience in the way that makes sense to them and their character! But that is the impression I received.

However, in all honesty, when my long para replies are met with much shorter responses, I do get a little sad. And I know that not everyone gets as wordy as me, so really, it's just my bad for assuming that people WANTED to read/respond to that kind of thing in kind (I should have asked probably) but because of that, I started to draw back a bit because the effort and interest didn't quite seem to be on the same page.

So when Xixi proposed the death of Rosie and the end to the ship as a whole I was a bit taken aback, especially since we had spoken at least once after I made the initial post about Al's MLM sexuality and it seemed like it would be an okay thing to continue with. BUT I also know that Rosie's character does really like romance, affection, etc. and things that Alastor is not always fantastic at showing. So even though I was a little bit down about that being the inevitable conclusion (and it did, admittedly, make my participation in the event feel a bit moot which it was already sort of scant because I've been busy and can't always keep up with those quick timed events, as I've expressed before), I understood that it was what Xixi wanted for the character and for the ship and I do not fault her for it!

I did wish, at the time, that maybe it had been brought up to me beforehand, but I know events move quick, things can come up and happen, and I'm not gonna fault someone for that either.

Ultimately, I decided I was okay with it. I chatted with a pal and decided that with a little bit of their input I could write a nice little ending to Alastor's story in that verse so that I still felt like I had a bit of agency in how he continues on after that, even if we weren't necessarily going to play in that verse anymore. I like to have control of my characters and their eventual fates, so it made me feel better in an otherwise unfortunate situation.

But now that the plan B is being proposed, I really don't want it to seem as though I hate the ship/wanted it to end/am committed to ruining it out of spite. I think I'd just like to commit to what was proposed to me because I've already planned out how I would like to end that story and I don't want to put pressure on Xixi (or myself) to try and match up our writing styles or interest levels when it does not seem as though we're able to provide what we're each looking for in a ship between Rosie/Alastor.

All that to say that I am sort of sold on completing that story for Alastor in one way or another, but that does not mean that I hate radiorose, nor that I harbor any sore feelings towards Xixi. Nor do I have any disdain for her writing style whatsoever! I think it's great and if there is any future indication that our styles can jive together again, I'd be open to it.

But at this time, it just seems like it's better for the ship to meet a conclusion.

I HOPE THAT PROVIDES CONTEXT AND INSIGHT as to my decision making here. I really do not want it to seem as though I'm purposefully sabotaging their ship when I just sort of want to commit to what was initially proposed.

I hope that makes sense. I don't often go at length about these kinds of things, but since people were concerned, I wanted to make myself clear.

ANYWAY.

[asklesbianonceler]

sending you Sellen for the asking game ✨️

Favorite thing about character:

I mean aside from being a huge baddie I love the confidence and mystique that veils her hubris. She's written so well to keep you strung along, making you expect she'll be harsh and rude but then being nothing but encouraging and "honest". Her praise and thankfulness and constantly telling you you've made her happy or proud when compared to every other NPC is so poignant and clearly worked to make people feel they had a nice relationship with her. They made her allure so clear and it's easy to tell how she was able to lead so many scholars to their death despite it all coming off as her warming up to you and respecting you.

Love that she's also like, "Ugh. Seluvis. Didn't want to hear about that guy again"

I like that she seemingly just pushes Rennala aside in the library. That's a big woman. Did she do that all by herself?

Least favorite thing:

Weird rendered, overly sexy anime drawings of her that I see on Twitter.

Headcanon:

I feel like she had all of her peers and most of her professors completely won over except for Rennala. Like I truly think all of them were eating out of her hand until the end and Rellanas ascension to headmaster is what did her in hence her extreme dislike of the Carians.

Brotp:

I like the one sided tarnished thinking they're her bro kinda thing.

Alternatively the Brotp is my int tarnished and her just both sitting there as orbs at the end. They don't speak but their crystals are charging. Every so often one of them just makes an uncomfortable little noise. It's parallel play.

Otp:

I want to see some Sellen toxic yuri. I have nothing more to say on the matter.

Notp:

Feel like I've seen her shipped with Seluvis. When it comes to Seluvis I want evil old many yaoi or nothing. He's got a doll of her in his room. Don't give him the shipping satisfaction.

Unpopular opinion:

I have to be honest I don't engage in Sellen discourse to know what's unpopular. I do not think she had good intentions for you though. I don't think she could be wifed up. Genuinely it seems like we are being shown exactly how she rose to such respect in the academy in the first place and her banishment in a lot of ways saved her and she learned nothing from it.

Quote:

"Splendid. I thank you. This pleases me. It's been far too long since I found a fellow kindred spirit. You must have a fabulous teacher."

Love that she's a little cheeky, but oh boy does she know how to get what she wants

Song:

I think a lot of Blood Ceremony songs have Sellen vibes. Morning of the Magicians is a good one, but a lot have heretical witch motifs

Pic

Is this my favorite? No but she's an NPC who stands there and I just redid this part of the quest and Idk this is just funny to me. Her arms look so ragdolled. Like it's a "toss the Muppet" pose. Mixed with the face that can't show any emotion. I know she's going through it but with the mask on its just goofy to me. Why did they leave the helmet on for this bit? In hindsight I really think they should have taken it off...

[snek-eyes]

Hello! What do you mean that Crowley is cold in the flashback with Job? Like, in a mean way? I always found he acts a little cool and demonic to keep up the charade knowing him acting demonic and uncaring will better veil the fact that he didn't kill the goats and doesn't intend to harm the kids since we know he'll be in big trouble if anyone finds out. And he knows everything will be fine, and that the kids won't get hurt and that the animals are safe as well so I figure that's a big factor in him seeming so cool/lacking compassion in the scene with Sitis. It reminded me a little of the scene in S1 where he turns the paintball guns into real ones and acts all cool and careless about it until begrudgingly admitting that nobody gets shot 🤔

Oh! And I forgot to add: the cool, rather uncaring demeanour Crowley has with Sitis is the same he first has with Aziraphale when he "kills" the goats and when he tells him he longs to destroy Job's blameless children. Until he realizes Aziraphale isn't on Heaven's side with this. Anyways, sorry for the ramble and I love reading your meta!

(re: this post)

Hi there! Never any need to apologize for rambling to me, discussions like this are fun, and you are drawing some very good points. And it gives me an excuse to put more thought into this!

To clarify, by "cold" I'm not saying Crowley's being mean, but he's definitely not being nice. Crowley is a "kind but not nice" big picture kinda guy, and he's got a lot of plates to be juggling here.

This is the one real time we see Crowley "at work." Like you said, acting as a demon. But not the bwahaha type of demon Aziraphale keeps bringing up with his 'avaunt!' and 'I bring a warning!' over-the-top angel shtick.

Crowley's got a wall up, by necessity. He comes across sort of... aloof and impatient, verging on condescending at points. He's steering this interaction by his plan and can't be stopped by how these people are suffering in the meantime.

And yet he's doing all he is with Job's family because he cares. Crowley thinks it's not fair that Job's being put through this, that God still has Sitis's faith even now. How much of that is the specific situation in front of him, and how much is him projecting his own trauma isn't exactly clear and I think kind of irrelevant. They're both at play. Crowley I'm sure would love to pretend he doesn't care about either.

But these humans are simultaneously A) in his way and B) not at fault. Crowley is a big picture guy: He does his best work on a large scale, he's fond of humans in general but they're often too much for him one on one. He'll support sacrificing one life to save the whole world (And yet, he won't personally pull the trigger) (But he will get frustrated when Aziraphale won't either)

Basically, Crowley can be frustrated by individuals enough to not be comforting while they're upset, to turn them into newts, etc. while also able to see on the broader scale that being annoying to him personally isn't reason enough to deserve truly awful things. Also there's some element of not wanting to let himself get attached because if he cares he will care.

That's a fascinating character trait, especially when you contrast him with Aziraphale who also has a big heart, but often gets distracted by that big picture of how things Should be.

I have more to say about your second message, because I actually think there's an important difference in his attitude with Sitis & Job vs how he's confronting Aziraphale there. But I've been turning this part over for long enough, so I'll release it into the wild.

[toads-n-moss]

gonna ramble about the no dl6 au again because i need to talk about the symbolism of the masquerade outfits.

(also lil announcement/question at the end :3)

first of all, the masks

let's start with phoenix's. while many of the masks are not accurate to the actual animals colors, this one i tried to stay close to the original colors.

phoenix's mask is that of a dove. more specifically, a mourning dove.

if you are visited by a mourning dove, it is meant to symbolize the visitation of a deceased love one. it symbolizes a message of hope and emcouragement from the loved one.

phoenix's mask essentially represents his old self, the version of him from chapter 1. but that version of him is dead, and a new version of himself has taken his place. but the mask is still a message of hope to miles. a message that phoenix is still there underneath the prosecutor veil.

next we got franziska's.

her mask is that of a lamb. lambs are often symbols of purity and innocence, but that's not the message i wanted to convey. what else are lambs symbolic of?

sacrifice. blind followers.

at this point in the story, franziska (alongside phoenix) is still a blind follower to manfred. while both of them begin to have their doubts against him, they'd never dare to say anything.

the ideals and behaviors of what a von karma should be are so deeply woven into franziska's identity, that she ends up sacrificing who she really is. the fact that the mask completely hides her eyes just emphasizes the blind follower aspect.

next up is miles' mask.

miles' mask is that of a raven. while ravens usually symbolize death or the warning of death to come, ravens can also symbolize grief and mourning in literature.

for the five years between chapters one and two, miles mourned phoenix as if he were dead, even though he was simply just missing.

the red on the mask, while mainly is just there to complement the outfit and make it stand out, also represents something important. after phoenix was attacked in thorns of the turnabout, miles felt constantly guilty for being unable to save phoenix. he feels that the blood is on his hands now.

but the symbolism doesn't stop at the masks!!

phoenix's corset and cuffs

his cuffs are of course meant to resemble the sleeves of franziska's canon outfit.

but the corset... ohhh the corset. phoenix's mask is a bird, which birds typically symbolize freedom. but his corset resembles a birdcage. trapped without even realizing it, his wings clipped and his freedom taken away.

but...

someone has the key to his freedom.

now time for the question :D!!

if i were to open up a Q+A for this au, would yall be down to ask things? these questions could be about character designs or story elements or case details or just silly headcanons. i may respond in text or art form, depending on the question asked :D!!

i will not be offended if you say no btw! /gen. i just want to make sure i know how much time i should dedicate to the asks without drawing too much of my attention away from main storybuilding posts and finished art pieces.

[liiacfleur]

An excerpt from the Loch Nora arc as a treat since people seemed excited! Just a reminder that this scene is just over a year in the future from where we are after chapter seven, so the dynamic is much different than currently.

Massive spoilers under the cut. I used a portion of the scene that doesn’t spoil insanely important plot points, but it still contains huge spoilers in regards to Steve and Kas’ relationship and dynamic. Readers be warned.

Content warning: blood, smut, and — I suppose technically unwilling — voyeurism. Oh and some good ol cross dressing too. Steve looks pretty in a dress what can I say.

Preface: they’re out on a balcony after stepping away during one of many parties they will attend at the dukes manor during the arc. This takes place after a confrontation that I don’t want to spoil that happens between Kas and Tommy.

***

With deft fingers, Kas’ touch wandered up the prince’s spine and below his veil, teasing along his neck, then to the side of his throat. Right over the mark of their blood oath, hidden below the fabric covering the delicate skin. Often Kas warred with whether he preferred it as their secret or if he wanted the world to see it. To see his claim, made from teeth and blood. Many times, Kas wished he could show others his own, scarred lovingly over his own jugular.

Entranced not for the first time, Kas brushed his fingers over Steve’s hidden scar once more. Then higher, where the fabric gave way to the sliver of skin between its hem and Steve’s jaw.

“Kas,” Steve gasped. The prince shivering as his fingers grazed the scars left behind from a battle in his youth. “What if someone sees us?”

Maybe they should, Kas thought with a note of bitterness. He’d never experienced jealousy whenever Steve visited brothels, but — when it came to that arrogant duke — he was green with envy. To think he’d dare to encroach on the man holding Kas very soul. He ought to be reminded of who Steve chose.

“No one will see us if you’re quiet,” Kas teased, his voice already thick with arousal. It blended oddly with the rage still simmering in his chest from their unpleasant encounter with that sniveling duke, but it also fueled him further. It made him want to hear the wanton moans he could draw forth from the prince's lips, knowing no other man could. “You can keep quiet, can’t you, my loving wife?”

At that, Steve looked over his shoulder to glare at Kas. He was sure that, behind the veil, Steve’s cheeks were flushed and his ears red. It would no doubt stand in contrast to the embarrassed frustration with which he spoke. “Quit it with the marriage jokes—”

“I think not.”

“—besides, you know the answer to that question, you bastard.”

Kas hummed, pleased as a barn cat that got the cream. He already knew well enough that Steve would make noise, none of which would be heard over the band playing inside the grand hall. But to eavesdroppers who dared to sully the prince with their stare…

Steve inhaled sharply when Kas’ fingers trailed to the buttons of the high collared dress. His touch brushed along the nape of the prince’s neck, teasing the skin between his hairline and the fabric. It was quickly replaced by his cold breath as he joined Steve under the veil, leaving a cool kiss behind the prince's ear which was hot to the touch. Then he undid the first button, then the second, all the way down to where the buttons gave way to the string of the corset, exposing the sun kissed skin of his neck and spine. With a smirk, Kas ducked down to nip and suck a mark on the back of his neck.

Immediately a gloved hand came up to Steve’s mouth as the prince tried to muffle the small noise that escaped him. “This isn’t what you asked — Kas.”

With a smirk, Kas pressed a quick kiss to the bruise. “You’re hard to resist. Should I leave a new scar?”

“I have enough scars on my neck. Looks like you’ve run out of room,” Steve replied, his own tone tilting towards teasing.

With a small huff of laughter, Kas spun Steve around, and, sure enough, the prince was smirking at him when their noses brushed. “Your thighs are quite unmarred.”

Steve chuckled as his cheeks flushed further. “You’re quite territorial when you’re jealous.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“What a redundant question.”

Kas rolled his eyes, even if Steve couldn’t see it. However, the prince clearly understood him well enough. Steve rolled his own eyes in reply before kissing the corner of Kas mouth, a hair's breadth closer to a proper kiss than the last time.

“You better bite me quick,” Steve said as he pulled away. “Someone will come looking for us soon.”

Another way to say that, if Kas let Robin find them in that position again, he would probably kill him.

Without the need for more prompting, Kas ducked down and sunk his teeth into Steve’s throat. Immediately he felt the prince grow lax against him as a moan spilled past his lips, already clinging to Kas and morphing against his body. It was more than a pleasant surprise to feel that the prince had already grown hard as well, and Kas hummed contently when he pressed them flush together.

“Kas,” Steve panted, grasping at his shoulders in desperation. “Kas — ah — slow down.”

With a heady groan, Kas pulled away to press a bloody kiss against the prince's jaw. Steve gasped when his tongue darted out to clean away the crimson a second later. “You were the one who told me to be quick—”

Suddenly, Steve was gripping his hair and pulling Kas away from his throat to stare at him — his eyes burning with lust. “Did I tell you to stop?”

“My apologies,” Kas whispered. When Steve’s gaze glinted with approval, Kas grinned before, with the speed of an arrow, his teeth sunk into the prince’s throat once more, flooding his mouth with the most exquisite of wines. He was immediately drunk from the sweet blood coating his tongue.

Steve swore under his breath, the words stretching into a low groan when Kas pressed his hand against the prince’s spine and dragged him closer, so close he could feel their erections brushing against one another between the layers of fabric and tulle. And, when he slid his leg between Steve’s thighs, he was rewarded with the feeling of the prince grinding against him, seeking release and babbling nonsense. Steve’s grip tightened in his hair, bordering the fine line between pleasure and pain, and Kas moaned softly against his throat.

Gently pulling his teeth from Steve’s flesh, Kas licked the blood spilling from the wound left behind. Steve whimpered, melting in his arms as Kas trailed his tongue along his jugular before he nipped at his jaw.

“More, Kas, I need more,” Steve begged breathlessly.

“I don’t want you to be lightheaded when we go back,” Kas protested.

With a low growl, Steve’s grip tightened again, pulling at Kas’ hair and making him gasp with a mixture of pain and heady lust. “More,” Steve ordered.

Before Kas could voice that Robin would likely drown him in the sea if Steve passed out from blood loss, he heard something. It was minuscule, barely a scuff, but enough for him to notice. So, with a wicked smirk, Kas bit Steve hard.

“Gods!” Steve cried out.

Another shuffle, this one with more urgency, but still hesitant. Then a single step forward. However, any further steps were halted a moment later.

The prince gasped as Kas’ hands migrated downward from the dip of his spine to hoist one of Steve’s legs around his waist, effectively hiking up the skirt of the dark dress. It pressed the prince’s cock against his thigh, only separated by thin breechers damp with his prerelease, and Steve let out a moan as sweet and rich as honey.

“Kas — Kas — I’m close,” Steve gasped.

Kas hummed, grinding Steve against him until the prince was spewing curses and moans like a blasphemous prayer. And, for a brief moment, Kas allowed the cold, dark mist concealing his face to dissipate. It blew away in the warm sea breeze, mingling past the veil concealing them from prying eyes. Then Kas glanced at the dark shadows of the balcony, where the outline of a man stood, watching them in disbelief.

The moment the Hagan’s eyes locked with Kas’, glowing like twin rubies past the veil, the duke paled, his skin ashen and grey.

Mine.

There was no need for words for the statement to be understood. The duke quickly turned and ran from the balcony just as Steve shouted Kas name as he came, leaving the devil stained with the prince’s blood and seed. A mark of his own that the duke would surely not soon forget.

[urtrickster]

markate thoughts i am poorly compiling into this post

gone gone gone markate is real and it's so sweet and sad and bittersweet and just mark and kate being so soso in love with each other and mark continuing to love kate long after she dies at the murder castle. i could write a fic for this if i were brave enough

tunnels au. remember that? i had a thought of mark and erin swapping places w jamie and kate nd being the ones to survive that night and just. kate dying in mark's arms as he begs her to stay awake. they had only just made up with each other, finally back together. it can't end here, it can't. but it does, with kate sacrificing herself to make sure mark made it out alive.

not really a thought just. sometimes i listen to the boy who could fly and it'll. just. 'i guess i never should have loved you, but i do forever 'cause you love me' + 'if you were gonna leave this world, how could it be without me?' + 'now it's all over my tongue and it still has no taste, 'cause without you, there is no me' markate.

imagine kate surviving and mark dying. imagine, in her grief, kate continuously dreams of mark. imagine dream mark trying to help kate move on. imagine it.

dark mermaid aus r where it's at just mark nearly fuckin drowning in the ocean after trying to take some nice photos only to be saved by mermaid kate and kate is like 'well i was going to eat you but you looked all scared and worried over that weird box of yours being in the water and it made me curious so im letting you live for now' and mark is like 'what the fuck' and then they fall in love

werewolf kate vampire mark that's it that's the thought

just a cute domestic scene of markate staying in for the day and existing together. mark occasionally taking a photo of kate here and there because he just can't help himself. kate asking mark for advice on scripts.

u know what fuck it kate can draw really really well and i think she likes drawing mark. mark takes photos of her and kate sketches him out.

sometimes i like to imagine that mark can play the acoustic guitar, y'know? so i'll sometimes just picture him absently playing the guitar while kate sits with him and just listens. doesn't matter what he's playing, she just sits there and admires him while he plays.

mark and kate still broken up but still very aware of each other's habits and preferences so well that whenever someone else needs to get something for one of them, they go to the other for advice.

markate the 30th by billie eilish.

but also markate i don't care if you're contagious by pierce the veil. yeah.

more on werewolf kate vampire mark. everyone literally everyone expects their roles to be swapped and are Very surprised when they see mark sipping on a blood bag with a massive fucking werewolf just chilling next to him.

kate having a nightmare. her and mark aren't together anymore but she still finds herself calling mark for comfort because hearing his voice always calms her down. mark always answers, and the moment he hears her voice he's dropping everything and showing up at her apartment in the middle of the night w some food and some shitty romcoms

markate at jerin's wedding and kate catches the bouquet.

okay now picture an au where tdim doesn't happen and markate didn't know each other. picture kate having a cute adorable little chihuahua that she takes to the dog park every week. imagine mark being at the dog park as well w connie. the chihuahua and connie become best friends which in turn means mark and kate see each other often and get to know each other. the dogs are matchmakers is what im saying.

i think mark and kate have 100% pretended to be a married couple for one reason or another. we don't know what happened in topeka. anything we want could've happened in topeka.

mark 100% teaches himself about crystals and shit and he 100% buys kate crystals bc the way her eyes light up and the smile on her face when he does is all worth it

me and kearney once talked abt mark having a youtube channel where he mostly talked about cameras and photography but occasionally played a game here and there w jamie and i just imagine kate being his number one fan that's all.

i actually think markate would thrive in a zombie apocalypse. don't ask where this came from im listening to speed by atari teenage riot and it made me think of zombies bc of lollipop chainsaw it's a whole thing anyways yeah markate zombie apocalypse au

uhhhh that's all i can think about rn.

[biboocat]

Precious Bane by Mary Webb (25 March 1881 – 8 October 1927), a new author for me. The time of the story is only 200 or so years ago, but the remote, rural Shropshire setting, the dialect & unusual names, and the religious & folkloric traditions create a mysterious mood that seems almost medieval. The mood for example is epitomized by the description of a funeral: the traditional nighttime procession by torch light, the funeral attire with black streamers, boughs of rosemary, funeral cakes wrapped in black edged paper, the macabre role of the “sin-eater”. It took a little time to get use to dialect and learn about some of the folkloric traditions, but then it’s easy to follow. I found three brief videos of Mary Webb by Cath Edwards on YouTube interesting and helpful in explaining a few of the folkloric traditions that appear in Precious Bane. The heroine and narrator, young Prue Sarn is a beautiful creation. Her goodness, wisdom, and spunky nature are in the mold of Maggie Tulliver in The Mill on the Floss and Tess d’Urbervilles, and of course one is greatly sympathetic towards someone who privately suffers from being created differently from others. I love the pervasiveness of nature’s beauty which reminds me fondly of Thomas Hardy’s novels. There is also an indictment against the evil of man: greedy ambition, lust, cruelty, how evil men cloak their hate, misogyny, and murderous intent with religious and other superstitious conventions: “Suffer not a witch to live!”, “Hare-shotten!” Finally, there is Kester Woodseaves, one of literature’s greatest heroes. It’s an amazing novel, one of my favorites of all time. Beyond her impressive technical prowess, Mary Webb gives us a vision of morality to imagine and emulate.❤️

Some memorable excerpts:

He was ever a strong man, which is almost the same, times, as to say a man with little time for kindness. For if you stop to be kind, you must swerve often from your path. So when folk tell me of this great man and that great man, I think to myself, who was stinted of joy for his glory? How many old folk and children did his coach wheels go over? What bridal lacked his song, and what mourner his tears, that he found time to climb so high?

So cruel can folk be and mean nothing. (People can be cruel unintentionally.) This was the reward for my kind act. But those that say good doings are rewarded are wrong.

Was it all of the flesh, as it was with the young squire, or did my soul that was twin to his (Kester Woodseaves) draw him and wile him, succor his heart and summon his love, even, then? For I do think that the spirit makes herself busy about the body, and breathes through it and throws a veil over it to make it more fair than it is of itself. For what is flesh alone?

At the hiring fair: I was glad I worked at whome, and had no need to go and be hired, for certain sure nobody ud have taken me. It was a bitter thought, that.

At a bull baiting: I could see the bull, a little white one, tied to a staple in the wall of the ball ring, which was a semi circle built of rough gray stones. The bright yellow sunshine held them all, as if they were bees in the mid of the honeycombs, and the blue air, the brown water, the green meadow were all so fair, I could not believe blood must be shed on such a day. I wonder to myself, times, if it was fair, clear weather on Golgotha when Mary looked up at the cross, and whether there was some small bird singing, and the bees busy in the clover. Ah! I think it was glass–clear weather, and bright. For no bitter lacked in that cup, and surely one of the bitterest things is to see the cruelty of men on some fair morning with blessing in it.

There’s none so fierce as a loving woman, and it always seemed a strange thing to me that the mother of Jesus could keep her hands off the Centurion, and it could only have been because her Son had given orders afore. But indeed if it had been me, I think I should have forgot the orders.

I’ll be bound, if we could choose our heaven. I’m not very choice of golden streets myself. And I’d like my heaven afore I die.

#marywebb

[hypothewes]

25, 35, 45

character development questions: hard mode

25. How quick is your character to suspect someone else? Does this change if they are close with that person?

Pretty quick, due to the circumstances he grew up in. It's common to see dirtied families dressed in rags and clinging to one another, begging for some kind of help from somebody, anybody. It's also common for it to end up being a farce. For every chance you take to be selfless you're also risking getting knocked out and waking up robbed blind...and that's the best case scenario.

That being said, Wes is kinder on average than your average desert scavenger, in part due to getting hired in such a high position and having faith in his skills to worm his way out of a bad situation. That doesn't mean he's naïve though.

Because of this, there's generally a belief that lingers in the back of his mind at all times that anyone is capable of betraying him, no matter how close he gets to them, no matter how heroic their intentions are. (Similarly, he applies this to himself with other people. It's the name of the game.) So there's always that lingering distrust—but he isn't immune to the disappointment and upset that follows when being betrayed by someone you do trust. When that does happen, he'll find himself slipping back into a defeatist 'well, that's just what happens' mindset to cope. He has an image he'd like to portray and there are things that must be done, so it just gets repressed and he's back to acting how he usually does.

35. How does your character behave around people they like?

Wes often dislikes sharing the more gruesome details of his life with strangers. It's a sign of weakness and he's used to thinking that everyone's gone through their own just as bad shit, so talking about it is feels like wallowing in the mud in the same spot for hours. This is all to say that when he does like someone enough to open up to them, these are the things about his life that he lets them glimpse at. Less in a 'my life sucks so bad bro it's so bad' and more 'life sucks, doesn't it! Let's go get a waffle' way.

Likewise, he's more prone to talking about his interests, particularly those that draw his curiosity. He doesn't really have a regard for boundaries in this sense and will openly speculate on other people, like the way their body may work in regards to the magically & sci-fi inclined. He'd get along well with a gossip because of this, I imagine. Or the mundane things he notices that he doesn't usually talk about out loud, like how even though the floor looks completely uniform you can tell this portion was replaced with limestone later on because of xyz factors.

Overall, same Wes, but he'll let you peek past the veil a bit.

45. What does your character believe will happen to them after they die? Does this belief scare them?

Nothing! The cold uncaring oblivion comes for us all... So you should make do with what you've got now! In a way, it's to cope with how his life turned out. He has a very complicated relationship with death; he's afraid of it, but he's accepted the inevitability of it. His belief that nothing happens after death is due to his scientific inclinations and because he takes comfort in the idea of being 'free' of all of your obligations, but this is similarly why he's afraid of it, especially over the idea of it happening too soon.

Despite this, he's still very much human; in his more desperate moments, he'll send a prayer out to a god he doesn't even think exists to comfort himself with the illusion of his voice being heard. :-)

[mumms-the-word]

This is AMAZING thank you for highlighting all of these spells!!

Personally, I like to think that the reason Gale can cast these 6th and 7th level spells early in the game (as in, before he’s actually a level 11 or 12 wizard specifically) is probably because of/is a sign of his former prowess as an archmage.

The programmed image that is summoned upon his death was probably something he worked HARD at accomplishing back in Waterdeep, days and days of trying to gather together scraps of his former power in order to cast this spell (or scribe a scroll to cast the spell) which, at one time, would have been as easy as breathing. But once it was cast, all it needed then was a trigger. So that’s that spell done, well before you ever meet him.

While traveling with you, casting gets easier. Sure, the game forces him to go through a standard level progression so that when he’s casting Mirage Arcane, he should only be about level 6 or 7 and only have access to 4th level spells at best. But as you said, OP, the game is going to make things seem less tedious and opt for cinematic/narrative value here.

He does also say, in the Mirage Arcane scene with the stars, that this isn’t a spell he can cast often.

Gale: Indeed. The curse is still present of course - just veiled and at arm's length for now. Not a trick I can repeat often, but tonight? Tonight is different.

So my thinking is that there is simply some magic Gale can cast given enough time and preparation, perhaps by scribing scrolls ahead of time or perhaps by secretly maintaining his magical energy enough to cast the spells (because we can’t rely on spell slots here, since Act 2 Gale shouldn’t even have access to 6th and 7th level spell slots). I do, personally, think that Gale would know how to scribe spell scrolls and probably did work on a scroll for the Mirage Arcane spell in Act 2, ignoring, of course, that it would still be beyond his in-game wizard level to scribe the spell.

Listen, maybe Gale is just that good. I definitely think the fact that the game shows him casting higher-level spells is a reference to just how powerful he was as a former Chosen of Mystra.

(But it could also be a hint or nod toward the sorcerer-turned-wizard theory and that he's drawing on natural talent to cast, but that sort of ignores dnd rules too.)

Either way, I can see Gale planning his use of these higher-level spells carefully. He doesn’t send a projected image to you every day, and he doesn’t conjure complex illusions for you all the time. He saves these for special occasions. The night before he expects to die, for example, or in a romance, the night he wants to present his most ambitious idea yet and invite you to join him in it.

As an aside, I think both the astral projection sex scene (AP being the not-technically-correct term of course, now that we know AP has silver tethers and stuff) and the Act 3 boat scene are illusion spells. Gale makes reference to illusion magic the morning after you opt for astral sex with him (though I couldn't get this to trigger in my game so it might be bugged).

Player: You flatter me. As I recall, you did all the hard work. Gale: Well, generosity is a noble virtue - whether it be in the streets, at the charity box, or betwixt the sheets. We are all sensual vessels. Illusory magic lets us sail farther, and feel more deeply.

(Incidentally, this makes Gale’s copy of The Art of the Night a spell tome, not just a Kama Sutra that Gale uses as a prop, but this isn't new information. It does suggest, however, that Gale keeps up with multiple spellbooks, not just the one we can mess around with in the game.)

As for the boat scene, his vocal component suggests it’s probably a homebrew illusion spell. Or, just as likely, an illusion spell that Gale himself invented, altering a Mirage Arcane to reflect the Outer Planes. Who are we to assume Gale is incapable of inventing spells?

If you get the version of that scene where he isn’t planning to ascend, he mentions that he used to cast this spell often while secluded in his tower. If Mirage Arcane is a 7th level spell, I imagine this specific version might be around the same, so again, it speaks to Gale’s power as a wizard even when he’s been nerfed by the orb.

Gale: I conjured this illusion often during my confinement in Waterdeep. An escape for the mind, where there was none for the body.

He casts it easily with a vocal component (Astra Navigamus) and no scroll, but often by this time he's about level 11 or 12 anyway (at least in my game he was, because I held off doing his quest for a bit). So casting a 7th level spell here isn't that shocking. It's slightly more shocking that he is able to cast it frequently when he's just emerging from post-orb-nerfdom. But I digress.

TLDR; I think Gale is capable of scribing scrolls for higher-level spells that he can't yet cast (which ignores dnd rules but suggests he is/was a SUPER powerful wizard) and that the two romance scenes are examples of high-level illusion magics.

TLDR the Second: Gale is more powerful than the game mechanically can show, so they show it in cutscenes instead.

⋆⋅☆ Gale's illusions ☆⋅⋆

I've been wanting for some time to make a list identifying the spells that Gale uses during his cutscenes.

There are two spells in this list that most players will be familiar with, Minor Illusion and Mirror Image, because some of the spellcaster can learn them in the game, but most of them are things that Larian didn't include and you won't know about them unless you check D&D spells.

Long post under the cut.

───── Minor Illusion ─────

- Level: cantrip - Casting time: 1 action - Range/Area: 30 ft / 5 ft cube - Components: S M (A bit of fleece) - Duration: 1 minute - School: Illusion - Available for: Bard, Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard You create a sound or an image of an object within range that lasts for the duration. The illusion also ends if you dismiss it as an action or cast this spell again. If you create a sound, its volume can range from a whisper to a scream. It can be your voice, someone else’s voice, a lion’s roar, a beating of drums, or any other sound you choose. The sound continues unabated throughout the duration, or you can make discrete sounds at different times before the spell ends. If you create an image of an object—such as a chair, muddy footprints, or a small chest—it must be no larger than a 5-foot cube. The image can’t create sound, light, smell, or any other sensory effect. Physical interaction with the image reveals it to be an illusion, because things can pass through it. If a creature uses its action to examine the sound or image, the creature can determine that it is an illusion with a successful Intelligence (Investigation) check against your spell save DC. If a creature discerns the illusion for what it is, the illusion becomes faint to the creature.

This one is easy to guess. A small image that doesn't move or make sounds, no point in wasting a spell slot when you can just achieve the same result with a cantrip.

───── Mirror Image ─────

- Level: 2nd - Casting Time: 1 action - Range/Area: Self - Components: V S - Duration: 1 minute - Available for: Sorcerer, Warlock, Wizard Three illusory duplicates of yourself appear in your space. Until the spell ends, the duplicates move with you and mimic your actions, shifting position so it’s impossible to track which image is real. You can use your action to dismiss the illusory duplicates. Each time a creature targets you with an attack during the spell’s duration, roll a d20 to determine whether the attack instead targets one of your duplicates. If you have three duplicates, you must roll a 6 or higher to change the attack’s target to a duplicate. With two duplicates, you must roll an 8 or higher. With one duplicate, you must roll an 11 or higher. A duplicate’s AC equals 10 + your Dexterity modifier. If an attack hits a duplicate, the duplicate is destroyed. A duplicate can be destroyed only by an attack that hits it. It ignores all other damage and effects. The spell ends when all three duplicates are destroyed. A creature is unaffected by this spell if it can’t see, if it relies on senses other than sight, such as blindsight, or if it can perceive illusions as false, as with truesight.

An illusion that looks and acts like the caster and stands close to them. The spell creates 3 copies initially, but they can be dismissed.

─── Programmed Illusion ───

- Level: 6th - Casting time: 1 action - Range/Area: 120 ft / 30 ft - Components: V S M (A bit of fleece and jade dust worth at least 25 GP) - Duration: Until dispelled - School: Illusion - Available for: Bard, Wizard You create an illusion of an object, a creature, or some other visible phenomenon within range that activates when a specific condition occurs. The illusion is imperceptible until then. It must be no larger than a 30-foot cube, and you decide when you cast the spell how the illusion behaves and what sounds it makes. This scripted performance can last up to 5 minutes. When the condition you specify occurs, the illusion springs into existence and performs in the manner you described. Once the illusion finishes performing, it disappears and remains dormant for 10 minutes. After this time, the illusion can be activated again. The triggering condition can be as general or as detailed as you like, though it must be based on visual or audible conditions that occur within 30 feet of the area. For example, you could create an illusion of yourself to appear and warn off others who attempt to open a trapped door, or you could set the illusion to trigger only when a creature says the correct word or phrase. Physical interaction with the image reveals it to be an illusion, because things can pass through it. A creature that uses its action to examine the image can determine that it is an illusion with a successful Intelligence (Investigation) check against your spell save DC. If a creature discerns the illusion for what it is, the creature can see through the image, and any noise it makes sounds hollow to the creature.

The famous spectral messenger that appears the 1st time Gale dies in act 1 or in the epilogue if he sacrificed himself. A spell with a condition to trigger on his death, casted while he was still alive.

───── Project Image ─────

- Level: 7th - Casting Time: 1 action - Range/Area: 500 miles - Target: Any location within range that you have seen before - Components: V S M (A small replica of you made from materials worth at least 5 gp) - Duration: Up to 1 day - Concentration - Available for: Bard, Wizard You create an illusory copy of yourself that lasts for the duration. The copy can appear at any location within range that you have seen before, regardless of intervening obstacles. The illusion looks and sounds like you but is intangible. If the illusion takes any damage, it disappears, and the spell ends. You can use your action to move this illusion up to twice your speed, and make it gesture, speak, and behave in whatever way you choose. It mimics your mannerisms perfectly. You can see through its eyes and hear through its ears as if you were in its space. On your turn as a bonus action, you can switch from using its senses to using your own, or back again. While you are using its senses, you are blinded and deafened in regard to your own surroundings. Physical interaction with the image reveals it to be an illusion, because things can pass through it. A creature that uses its action to examine the image can determine that it is an illusion with a successful Intelligence (Investigation) check against your spell save DC. If a creature discerns the illusion for what it is, the creature can see through the image, and any noise it makes sounds hollow to the creature.

The illusory Gale that guides you to his act 2 main scene. It could be another Programmed Illusion, but I've chosen Project Image instead because this one's eyes don't glow like the other's, which makes me think they were created with different spells. Also because the copies of Lorroakan and Rolan in Sorcerous Sundries are confirmed Projected Images and they look and act similar to Gale's.

I know it's labeled as "Gale's Mirror Image", but it can't be a Mirror Image because illusions made with that spell stay close to the caster and imitate them, but this one is standing there on its own and having a full conversation with the player while Gale prepares the next spell on this list.

───── Mirage Arcane ─────

- Level: 7th - Casting time: 10 minutes - Range/Area: Sight / 1 mile - Components: V S - Duration: 10 days - Available for: Bard, Druid, Wizard You make terrain in an area up to 1 mile square look, sound, smell, and even feel like some other sort of terrain. The terrain’s general shape remains the same, however. Open fields or a road could be made to resemble a swamp, hill, crevasse, or some other difficult or impassable terrain. A pond can be made to seem like a grassy meadow, a precipice like a gentle slope, or a rock-strewn gully like a wide and smooth road. Similarly, you can alter the appearance of structures, or add them where none are present. The spell doesn’t disguise, conceal, or add creatures. The illusion includes audible, visual, tactile, and olfactory elements, so it can turn clear ground into difficult terrain (or vice versa) or otherwise impede movement through the area. Any piece of the illusory terrain (such as a rock or stick) that is removed from the spell’s area disappears immediately. Creatures with truesight can see through the illusion to the terrain’s true form; however, all other elements of the illusion remain, so while the creature is aware of the illusion’s presence, the creature can still physically interact with the illusion.

In his act 2 main scene Gale veils the shadow-cursed sky with an aurora borealis.

The Waterdeep scene that follows in the astral variant of the romance path could also be part of this spell if we bend the rules a bit and let him have the Malleable Illusions feature that only Wizards from the School of Illusion get.

Malleable Illusions: starting at 6th level, when you cast an illusion spell that has a duration of 1 minute or longer, you can use your action to change the nature of that illusion (using the spell's normal parameters for the illusion), provided that you can see the illusion.

As for the Astral sex part and the boat scene, I think those are something else. The closest I've found is the next spell, from the School of Necromancy.

──── Astral Projection ? ────

- Level: 9th - Casting Time: 1 hour - Range/Area: 10 feet - Target: You and up to eight willing creatures within range - Components: V S M (For each creature you affect with this spell, you must provide one jacinth worth at least 1,000 gp and one ornately carved bar of silver worth at least 100 gp, all of which the spell consumes) - Duration: Special - Available for: Cleric, Warlock, Wizard You and up to eight willing creatures within range project your astral bodies into the Astral Plane (the spell fails and the casting is wasted if you are already on that plane). The material body you leave behind is unconscious and in a state of suspended animation; it doesn’t need food or air and doesn’t age. Your astral body resembles your mortal form in almost every way, replicating your game statistics and possessions. The principal difference is the addition of a silvery cord that extends from between your shoulder blades and trails behind you, fading to invisibility after 1 foot. This cord is your tether to your material body. As long as the tether remains intact, you can find your way home. If the cord is cut—something that can happen only when an effect specifically states that it does—your soul and body are separated, killing you instantly. Your astral form can freely travel through the Astral Plane and can pass through portals there leading to any other plane. If you enter a new plane or return to the plane you were on when casting this spell, your body and possessions are transported along the silver cord, allowing you to re-enter your body as you enter the new plane. Your astral form is a separate incarnation. Any damage or other effects that apply to it have no effect on your physical body, nor do they persist when you return to it. The spell ends for you and your companions when you use your action to dismiss it. When the spell ends, the affected creature returns to its physical body, and it awakens. The spell might also end early for you or one of your companions. A successful dispel magic spell used against an astral or physical body ends the spell for that creature. If a creature’s original body or its astral form drops to 0 hit points, the spell ends for that creature. If the spell ends and the silver cord is intact, the cord pulls the creature’s astral form back to its body, ending its state of suspended animation. If you are returned to your body prematurely, your companions remain in their astral forms and must find their own way back to their bodies, usually by dropping to 0 hit points.

I'm not sure about this one for many things: the absence of the silver cord, the hight cost (2200 gp total), the 9th level (max spell level, learned at 17th+ character level), the ability to go anywhere in the Astral Plane and even use portals... I don't know, seems a little too much.

Also the two scenes are different from one another despite both sharing the Astral Plane scenery:

On the Astral sex scene Gale and the PC are ethereal figures and there's no verbal component, the glyph in the book seems to be what activates it.

On the Astral sea scene only the boat is ethereal and there's a verbal component, "Astra Navigamus" (we sail the stars). We also know from Gale's words that it requires to maintain concentration, but Astral Projection doesn't.

Gale: Find me later, and I will show you something truly divine. I will show you what a crown like this could mean for both of us. PC: Can't you just tell me now? Gale: Afraid not. What I have to show you requires us to be its only witness, and our minds to share in the most exquisite concentration.

Maybe there's no real equivalent and they're simply homebrew creations.

────── Simulacrum ──────

- Casting Time: 12 hours - Range/Area: Touch - Target: One beast or humanoid that is within range for the entire casting time of the spell - Components: V S M (Snow or ice in quantities sufficient to made a life-size copy of the duplicated creature; some hair, fingernail clippings, or other piece of that creature’s body placed inside the snow or ice; and powdered ruby worth 1,500 gp, sprinkled over the duplicate and consumed by the spell) - Duration: Until dispelled - Available for: Wizard You shape an illusory duplicate of one beast or humanoid that is within range for the entire casting time of the spell. The duplicate is a creature, partially real and formed from ice or snow, and it can take actions and otherwise be affected as a normal creature. It appears to be the same as the original, but it has half the creature’s hit point maximum and is formed without any equipment. Otherwise, the illusion uses all the statistics of the creature it duplicates. The simulacrum is friendly to you and creatures you designate. It obeys your spoken commands, moving and acting in accordance with your wishes and acting on your turn in combat. The simulacrum lacks the ability to learn or become more powerful, so it never increases its level or other abilities, nor can it regain expended spell slots. If the simulacrum is damaged, you can repair it in an alchemical laboratory, using rare herbs and minerals worth 100 gp per hit point it regains. The simulacrum lasts until it drops to 0 hit points, at which point it reverts to snow and melts instantly. If you cast this spell again, any currently active duplicates you created with this spell are instantly destroyed.

Despite popular belief, none of the Gale duplicates that we see in the game is a Simulacrum, they don't fit the criteria:

They are translucent and their voice sounds hollow, as if there had been an invisible successful investigation check.

When you destroy them they disappear with puff of magic lights instead of transforming back into ice/snow and melt.

Notice that Simulacra clones are tangible, unlike the others from before. They are basically glamoured and animated life size ice/snowmen. They're also quite expensive and elaborate, not something you'd want to cast for a short single use (unless you're super rich I suppose).

That doesn't mean that there isn't any use of this spell in the game, there's in fact one example:

That's right, the Elminster we encounter isn't the real one, but a construct made with Simulacrum. All that complaining about a long and extenuous journey, worn boots, and hunger is an act, an imitation of the real Elminster's mannerism. Makes you wonder what happened to all that cheese and wine that he "ate"...

───────────────────

Bear in mind that the devs have taken some creative liberties and there are lore inconsistencies. More than half of these spells are a higher level than what's possible to learn at that point, most aren't even in Gale's spellbook and, by the Wizard class rules, he' s only allowed to cast the spells that are written on his book and memorized during a long rest. So unless he secretly has with him the spellbook that he used when he was an Archmage or a scroll version of them, it shouldn't be possible to use most of these.

Oh well, sometimes is necessary to change things a bit because they don't translate well to videogame mechanics and it would make things more tedious and not as enjoyable.

And that's it. If you've made it this far, thank you for reading!

[struckbylightningorsomething]

But even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing, - 2 Corinthians 4:3

Commentary by St. John Chrysostom

But if our Gospel is veiled, it is veiled in them that are lost; in whom the God of this world has blinded the eyes of the unbelieving.

As he said also before, To some a savor from death unto death, to others a savor from life unto life, 2 Corinthians 2:16 so he says here too. But what is the God of this world? Those that are infected with Marcion's notions , affirm that this is said of the Creator, the just only, and not good; for they say that there is a certain God, just and not good. But the Manichees say that the devil is here intended, desiring from this passage to introduce another creator of the world besides the True One, very senselessly. For the Scripture uses often to employ the term God, not in regard of the dignity of that so designated, but of the weakness of those in subjection to it; as when it calls Mammon lord, and the belly god. But neither is the belly therefore God, nor Mammon Lord, save only of those who bow down themselves to them. But we assert of this passage that it is spoken neither of the devil nor of another creator, but of the God of the Universe, and that it is to be read thus; God has blinded the minds of the unbelievers of this world. For the world to come has no unbelievers; but the present only. But if any one should read it even otherwise, as, for instance, the God of this world; neither does this afford any handle, for this does not show Him to be the God of this world only. For He is called the God of Heaven, Psalm 136:26, etc. yet is He not the God of Heaven only; and we say, 'God of the present day;' yet we say this not as limiting His power to it alone. And moreover He is called the God of Abraham, and the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob; Exodus 3:6, etc. and yet He is not the God of them alone. And one may find many other like testimonies in the Scriptures. How then has He blinded them? Not by working unto this end; away with the thought! But by suffering and allowing it. For it is usual with the Scripture so to speak, as when it says, God gave them up unto a reprobate mind. For when they themselves first disbelieved, and rendered themselves unworthy to see the mysteries; He Himself also thereafter permitted it. But what did it behoove Him to do? To draw them by force, and reveal to those who would not see? But so they would have despised the more, and would not have seen either. Wherefore also he added,

That the light of the Gospel of the glory of Christ should not dawn upon them.

Not that they might disbelieve in God, but that unbelief might not see what are the things within, as also He enjoined us, commanding not to cast the pearls before the swine. Matthew 7:6 For had He revealed even to those who disbelieve, their disease would have been the rather aggravated. For if one compel a man laboring under ophthalmia to look at the sunbeams, he the rather increases his infirmity. Therefore the physicians even shut them up in darkness, so as not to aggravate their disorder. So then here also we must consider that these persons indeed became unbelievers of themselves, but having become so, they no longer saw the secret things of the Gospel, God thenceforth excluding its beams from them. As also he said to the disciples, Therefore I speak unto them in proverbs , Matthew 13:13 because hearing they hear not. But what I say may also become clearer by an example; suppose a Greek, accounting our religion to be fables. This man then, how will he be more advantaged? By going in and seeing the mysteries, or by remaining without? Therefore he says, That the light should not dawn upon them, still dwelling on the history of Moses. For what happened to the Jews in his case, this happens to all unbelievers in the case of the Gospel. And what is that which is overshadowed, and which is not illuminated unto them? Hear him saying, That the light of the glorious Gospel of Christ who is the Image of God, should not dawn upon them. Namely, that the Cross is the salvation of the world, and His glory; that this Crucified One himself is about to come with much splendor; all the other things, those present, those to come, those seen, those not seen, the unspeakable splendor of the things looked for. Therefore also he said, dawn, that you may not look for the whole here, for that which is [here] given is only, as it were, a little dawning of the Spirit. Therefore, also above as indicating this, he spoke of savor; 2 Corinthians 2:16 and again, earnest, 2 Corinthians 1:25 showing that the greater part remains there. But nevertheless all these things have been hidden from them; but had been hidden because they disbelieved first. Then to show that they are not only ignorant of the Glory of Christ, but of the Father's also, since they know not His, he added, Who is the Image of God? For do not halt at Christ only. For as by Him you see the Father, so if you are ignorant of His Glory, neither will you know the Father's.

- John Chrysostom

Read more commentaries at

[thunderpot]

I'm sure there must be something like this somewhere, but here I am throwing this idea on the wind anyway (ya'll are free to use it if you ever wish to!)

AU where absolutely everything is the same, except the characters are all real and TGCF is an elaborate 2010th year marriage gift HC prepared for XL (by sending bits and pieces of their story to MXTX in a dream) that got out of hand and now they even get new prayers every now and then.

They still have their Paradise Manor and Qiandeng Temple in the Ghost Realm, but since XL never took residence in the Heavenly Realm, his current human residence is a modern penthouse HC got him a good while ago, high enough to be private and befit his divine status while still overseeing the buzzling city and all it's ant-like little humans.

The series is full of misinterpretations and wrong bits ofc, but they both enjoy it regardless. XL only cries once, by the end, during the scene that describes him [SPOILER] finding out HC has been by his side all along[SPOILER].

He also cries for the second time while listening to the donghua  theme songs of both him and HC.

HC is incredibly happy at how pretty the renditions of XL look everywhere, and just how he is pretty much the handsomest character in the entire series no matter who draws it. XL goes beet red every time he sees a rendition of himself anywhere, which is pretty often, with how popular the series got.

HC has a folder just for XL fanarts on his cellphone and, while shy about it, XL also has a secret folder full of HC fanarts he likes to scroll through when he thinks HC isn't looking (HC finds it super cute!). None of the arts measure up to the real thing, ofc, but both get all warm thinking about their significant other getting the praise they deserve.

HC loves dragging XL out on conventions just to see everyone almost fainting at the sight of him, while casually ignoring all the people who come for himself. They get some level of anonymous fame as the most smitten cosplayers and how "positively real" they look -Pics of HCs lovingly gaze and XLs shy smile take the internet by storm, specially since no one can seem to find online footprints of them anywhere, which only further increases the mystery veil around both 'cosplayers'.

XL secretly buys the miaowuxiaopu outfits and swears by his life he has nothing to do with it when the box comes a week later and HC is the one to receive it (but gets absolutely elated when HC dresses up and how good he looks with the outfit)

Both like to scroll down the "Hualian" tag everywhere and have fun seeing the new creations. HC loves going after the fic websites and finding "interesting, more creative fiction than the ones in the past. We should absolutely try some things..."

A couple of HCs new favorite pastimes include trying out new skins based on art XL shows particular interest in and having XL roleplay fanfic scenarios they both like.

FX and MQ got themselves apts as well, just so they could be closer to XL while mingling with humans a bit more now that they're more free. Their relationship is much better now, but neither will ever admit it.

MQ's floor to ceiling bedroom windows facing FXs "was nothing more than a bad coincidence! I hate it!"

They see no need to tell anyone about leaving their curtains open at night.

Both suffer greatly having to see HCs hideous, giant smiles plastered all over the city and on the subway walls and curse every time they are forced to listen to any of their theme songs again. MQ swears he will retch if he needs to listen to one more comment on how romantic “hualian” is.

FX is absolutely horrified that he now started to occasionally get new prayers regarding the marital bed god[TM] status he worked so hard to be forgotten - and even more so that some of them involves both him and MQ. About those, his lips stay completely sealed.

[melaninhuntress]

Hoodoo tip

The Song of Solomon are great for love work but also self love work as well!

I often use it when I do a self love working and it works very well!

These are the parts that what work best for me: 

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth! For your love is better than wine; 3    your anointing oils are fragrant; your name is oil poured out;    therefore virgins love you. 4 Draw me after you; let us run.    The king has brought me into his chambers.

Others

We will exult and rejoice in you;    we will extol your love more than wine;    rightly do they love you.

She

5 I am very dark, but lovely,    O daughters of Jerusalem, like the tents of Kedar,    like the curtains of Solomon. 6 Do not gaze at me because I am dark,    because the sun has looked upon me. My mother's sons were angry with me;    they made me keeper of the vineyards,    but my own vineyard I have not kept! 7 Tell me, you whom my soul loves,    where you pasture your flock,    where you make it lie down at noon; for why should I be like one who veils herself    beside the flocks of your companions?

[foxleycrow]

Thranduil & Túrin playing together in Doriath, for @tolkiengenweek —when I realized they could have been kids in Doriath at the same time, I had to draw them together.

This one also comes with a short accompanying fic about their meeting:

To Wear an Elven Crown

Thranduil had longed to meet the Adan since he had heard the first tales of his arrival in Doriath. His wish had displaced most other longings in his heart. If he could speak to an Adan, he could practice his Mannish and ask him about so many things, like the life of his people and the world outside the Fence. Beleg Cúthalion had found the Adan lost in the woods, and then King Thingol had adopted him! Thranduil had never heard of anyone adopting an Adan, let alone the king himself. If he were now Thingol's son, did that mean he was an Elf, as well as a Man? 

Thranduil had asked his father several times whether he could visit the Adan, but each time he was told the newcomer was too unwell. He had been sick and weak when he was discovered, and he was not yet strong enough to entertain company. This news sank him into a deep state of worry. The Edain could contract illnesses, and were mortal. What if this one became very sick, or even died! Of course, the healers of Doriath were the greatest in Middle-earth, but the Adan had come from dangerous lands far from the protection of Doriath, where anything might have befallen him. Thranduil had heard stories of strange fevers and chills that Edain could suffer from; what if the Elven healers did not know how to treat them?

"If he were to speak with someone his own age, Ada, he might feel better." The Adan was young, like himself. Not precisely the same age, since Edain aged so differently, but near enough in essence. He wondered what kind of games the Edain played. Maybe they had invented some no Elves had dreamed of…

"Do you believe so?" asked Oropher, raising an eyebrow. "An interesting perspective. I did not know you had become such an expert on the matter."

"I would feel better, if it were me." In defiance of his father's eyebrow, he added, "I asked Beleg to tell me everything he knows about the Edain."

"Oh, so you are an expert. My mistake." Oropher's hand settled on his head. Thranduil felt the warmth of his father's skin on his brow and blinked. "He has been through much, little Tuil," said Oropher. "We will not tax him any more than we need to."

After offering a gentle pat, Oropher withdrew his hand. Thranduil lay back, resting his head among the grasses. Thranduil did not expect his father to understand, for Oropher was very old. There were no children in King Thingol's house, and if they would not allow Thranduil to visit and talk to the Adan, then they would not have let any other children in to speak to him; that was obvious.

"I am an expert," Thranduil murmured, closing his eyes. Beleg had told him that the Edain could grow lonely and sad, like Elves, and that they too loved to dance and sing and tell tales. The Adan was named Túrin, and his father had been an Elf-friend. That meant he was an Elf-friend, too. If he was a friend, then he should be treated as one and given a warm welcome by everyone in Menegroth. Surely that would make him feel better than being kept away from others.

"Are you falling asleep?" Oropher asked. "I'll take you back home."

He shook his head stubbornly, the blades of grass making themselves felt on his cheeks and chin. Narrow, but not quite sharp. They did not hurt, but he sensed each one keenly. "No, I want to nap out here in the sun." They were well behind the Fence and close to Menegroth, so these woods were safe and guarded. He could play or explore or rest among the trees whenever he liked, because Queen Melian kept them all from harm.

He heard Oropher's soft laughter and felt his father's hand settle on his head again briefly. Then he was only aware of the warm sun heating his skin and the faintly prickly touch of the grass carpeting the clearing. Soon, he was not aware of the clearing either, lost in a dream, wandering far from the waking world. He dreamed he was journeying through a dark, withered wood, bristling with dead branches. The sky was veiled with dense, gray clouds. There was an unnatural air to them, as if storm clouds had been thickened with smoke.

There was a cold wind at his back, and he was all alone. The dead trees were so tall, they made him feel smaller. He heard something moving behind him, breaking branches and rustling through shriveled leaves. An animal? Or something worse? He did not know, and he did not want to turn to look, so he ran. He ran until he felt he had been always running, yet no matter how quick his steps, the noises behind him persisted, never any closer, but never farther away.

Thranduil woke with a gasp. He sat up and scanned the clearing. It was as green and tranquil as it had been when he fell asleep. He heard the low buzz of insect song and the faint voices of the trees. Father was gone. He saw no sign of anyone nearby, although that was not unusual. The sun's light was starting to fade from the sky. It was that between-time when patches of sunlight were still scattered across the forest floor, while the first stars appeared in the purpling twilight above. Thranduil rose to his feet. He was a little hungry, but he was well-rested, and he wasn't ready to return home. He would rather play, until Father came to fetch him. He left the clearing, slipping into the undergrowth as soundlessly as possible.

One of his favorite games was Marchwarden. It was more fun to play with someone else, but it was a game he could also play alone, simply by moving as quickly and quietly as possible, so that no enemies could see or hear him—exactly like a Marchwarden. He was tracking. Not hunting, but searching for any sign of danger, to keep Doriath safe. He studied whatever tracks he came across, or other signs of passage, such as broken twigs or bent grasses, trying to judge who or what had come the same way, and how long ago. He could wander like this for hours, happily, alone.

He was not entirely happy. He was more uneasy as he searched for signs in the grass, because of his dream. Within the dead wood, he had felt like he would never be allowed to rest, racing with an enemy eternally at his back. Dreams always meant something, but not always what you thought they meant. It took a wise Elf to read dreams. He could have asked his father about it, and maybe he would later. Now, he stalked through the dense growth, crouching low so his pale hair couldn't be seen.

When he heard low and distant voices, Thranduil was still lost in his game, so he crouched lower, listening intently as he crept closer. He slowed his breathing, his heartbeat, hiding as he'd been taught.

"—where he could have gone—?"

"We will find him, and soon. There's only so far...."

"I hadn't thought he was strong enough. I would never have guessed he'd be so quick."

"You shouldn't underestimate—"

The speakers moved away, out of the range of his hearing. Those were two of Thingol's guards. Could they have been talking about the Adan? It was possible, and not only because Thranduil thought of the Adan so often. Who else would they have thought wasn't strong enough? If the Adan was lost, he might grow sicker. Imagine how upset King Thingol would be. If Thranduil was a Marchwarden, then he had a duty to do whatever he could to protect everyone in Doriath: including any Edain. He moved on again, more quickly and with greater purpose.

He studied the forest, down to the least leaf, and he listened to the birds singing, the faint breeze moving through the branches. He listened for telltale noises, or telltale silences. He wondered whether the Adan had had a nightmare, like he had. Maybe that was why he had run off. It must have been hard for him to leave his home behind, especially because of the war: that distant, dark shadow hanging over everything, even the forests of Doriath.

Where would an Adan go? Possibly into the undergrowth, where he was. A place where someone small would hide. Thranduil knew of many secret spaces ideal for concealing himself, but few of them were nearby, close to where the guards were hunting. A slight Adan would leave faint footprints. Like Thranduil, he would have been trained in how to hide, if he were in danger. Thranduil was sure that the great trackers of Doriath could find anyone, but maybe Túrin would be difficult to find, more difficult than they expected.

Thranduil headed toward the Dome—it was a vast, curving structure of twisted woody shrubs, crowned with flowering vines. It was bright enough to draw the eye of a stranger to these woods, and dense enough to provide ample cover and shelter. Thranduil often crawled in there to play, because it was like a fortress. He could pretend he ruled there, lord of the branches and leaves and blossoms.

Thranduil found a faint indentation that might have been left by someone running this way. Shortly after that, he spied a tiny tuft of thread, caught on a hooked thorn. It was bright blue in color, so it stood out more than it might have otherwise. Could he have been correct in thinking the Adan might have been come this way? He had been guessing, but maybe he really was a Marchwarden. He would have to tell Beleg, if he succeeded in his hunt.

Emboldened by the thought that he might be better at tracking than Thingol's own guard, Thranduil sank to his knees and crawled into one of the narrow passageways that led into the Dome. With twisting branches on either side of him, and a ceiling of ivy above, no one outside would be able to see him, once he had travelled the length of a few paces. There were no wider  ways in, the growth here was so dense. Anyone who was much larger than Thranduil would have had to cut their way through. Among the branches, Thranduil caught sight of another slight scrap of blue thread. The branches here loved to tug on clothing.

Encouraged, Thranduil moved faster, until he arrived at a fall of dense vines, pushed through them, and found himself confronted by a pair of dark, shining eyes, staring at him. The Adan gave a start, but did not run. It was hard to travel quickly within the Dome, especially if one didn't know it as well as Thranduil did. Thranduil had half-suspected he was imagining his grand success in tracking, so he sat, blinked and stared back at his quarry, startled and bewildered and pleased.

The Adan was seated with his knees drawn up toward his chest. He was very thin, the thinnest child Thranduil had ever seen. His narrow face made his eyes look bigger. Here, he was walled off from the world—or most of it. He looked a great deal like an Elf, although Thranduil could tell he was different as well. It was hard to say exactly why; he simply felt different, like the night air felt different from the air of day, or the atmosphere before a storm as opposed to in the dry season: different in so many various slight ways, some of which were easier to describe than others.

Although Thranduil had longed for their meeting with joy, he felt unexpectedly solemn, now that it was taking place. "Hello," he ventured, in Sindarin. "I'm Thranduil, Son of Oropher."

The Adan blinked, and for a moment, Thranduil wasn't sure if he would—or could—reply, but at last he answered softly, "I'm Túrin, Son of Húrin."

"Why are you out here?" Thranduil asked. He didn't wish to sound accusatory, so he added, "Did you want to play?"

Túrin looked away, into the shadows between the leaves. "I wanted to be by myself."

Thranduil nodded, as this was perfectly understandable. "I like to be by myself, too."

Túrin's gaze shifted back to Thranduil. He seemed relieved to hear this, exhaling.

"Can I stay, though?" Thranduil asked. "Now that I'm here."

"You can stay," Túrin said.

Thranduil knew that Thingol and all his guards and attendants and everyone must be nervous, but he didn't think a little while longer would do any harm, especially not when Túrin must have run here for a reason. Being surrounded by everyone at court could be overwhelming. Thranduil had never been far away from home and everyone he knew before, but it must be hard. It would be better not to rush him. He would let Túrin rest for a little while, and then he would take him to Thingol—just as Beleg had, before.

"I can show you something," he offered.

After another hesitation, Túrin nodded.

"Follow me," said Thranduil. He crawled ahead, between the branches, into the gloom. The last of the day's slight, slipping in through the leaves and vines above, made soft, pale shifting shapes on their hands and on the ground beneath. After a long way, the structure of the dome opened up onto a green glade, surrounded by dense undergrowth on all sides. No one would walk here casually, and if he and Túrin didn't stand up, no one would be able to see them from outside the enclosure. The glade was also hidden, but there was more room to stretch out, and even lie down. It was a fine place for a nap, with soft earth and open sky above. Clusters of flowers grew in profusion, along with tufts of dense grass. Thranduil and Túrin admired their new hiding place in silence, while birds sang in the trees overhead. It was not yet true night, only early twilight. The birds would keep singing a little longer.

"I come here sometimes when I want to be alone," Thranduil said. In the past days and weeks, he had formulated an ever-growing list of questions he would like to ask the Adan, but he did not ask a single one of them now.

Túrin nodded again, lowering his gaze. He reached down and ran his fingers through the grass. There were shadows beneath his eyes, and he did not smile.

"Everyone's looking for you," said Thranduil. "They must be worried."

"I didn't mean to make anyone worry. They shouldn't worry. I don't know why I—" He broke off, closing his eyes.

"It's all right. No one will be angry with you," Thranduil reassured him quickly, moved by Túrin's pained expression. "I'm not angry. I've been waiting to meet you. I've never met an Adan before."

Túrin's eyes reopened, slowly. "Never?"

Thranduil inclined his head in confirmation. "Never."

"I hadn't really met Elves before," said Túrin.

"But now you have. You've met Beleg, and King Thingol, and me. Everyone's happy you're here, that's why they're worried. But we don't have to go back right away. We can wait until you feel better." He cast about the glade, looking for something else he could show the Adan, to cheer him. Along with the two of them, the glade was bursting with life, all the usual green and growing things, rising from the earth and insisting on themselves… "Here—I'll make you something."

"Make me what—?"

"Look." Thranduil's gaze went to a stand of nearby pale purple flowers. These particular blossoms were edible and often harvested. It would do no harm to take a few, especially at this time of year. Quickly, he plucked a few of them, leaving a length of green stem on each. Once he had gathered enough, he wove them together. Flowers and grasses were easy to weave, especially into a circle. When they were joined, he tapped them with his fingers. He could feel the energy moving through the blooms and stems. He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating on that living force, pressing the separate strands of it into one: forging it into a single, singing ring and willing the flowers—live, preserve. They were no longer separate blooms; they had become a single entity. Their petals, which had been in the first stage of wilting, straightened with pride, made fresh and new. It was such a simple thing to do, yet Túrin was wide-eyed and rapt, staring at his hands as if he had performed a wonder. "A crown for you, Prince Túrin." Thranduil reached out and settled the circlet of blooms on Túrin's head.

Finally, Túrin smiled at him. Thranduil smiled back.

They did not stay long, alone in that green glade together, hidden by a conspiracy of leaves and vines and branches. They were never meant to stay long. The world outside was waiting for them to emerge. While the sun receded and the stars began to show themselves—one by one at first, then all at once, like a rain of jewels scattering across the sky—they played and laughed for a few moments.

As Thranduil predicted, when they returned to Menegroth, Túrin did not receive a single scolding. Thingol wrapped him in a fierce embrace. Beleg was as impressed by Thranduil's skills as Thranduil had hoped. He praised Thranduil for his skill in tracking, and said he could visit Túrin whenever he wanted. Eventually, he was able to ask Túrin every question on his extensive list.

Many long years later, tragedy faded into myth for so many, but not for those who were there. Thranduil rarely listened to the sad songs that touched on the subject of Túrin Turambar, but when a certain mood was on him, he would ask the harpers to play one of the few he approved of. Thranduil had grown very old. Seated on his throne, wearing his own heavy crown, he would lean back and remember the smile of a young boy with his dark hair full of flowers.

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

This may be a minor gripe but something that has kind of bothered me about discussions and depictions of Dan is how often people seem to forget that Dan isn't just an older evil Danny, he's a combination of Danny and Vlad's ghost sides. Like people always talk about him like Danny threw away his humanity and turned evil but that's not even true. Sure, we can say that Dan is the result of Danny's action but that's a little unfair. (1/2)

(2/2) Him cheating on a test, coincidentally putting his loved one's in a position where they could be killed, is absolutely not his fault. Letting Vlad take away his ghost powers with a strange contraption might not have been the smartest move, but we are talking about a grieving CHILD here, of course he isn't going to make the best decisions. If anything Vlad's the one to blame here, and even then, it's not like he could predict what happened

---

you aren't wrong, my friend. it really isn't entirely danny's fault and the whole 'if you cheat on a test, you'll loose everything you love' moral is confused at best. i think as fandom we find it more interesting to look at danny's potential evil and moral struggle with himself. so simplifying it to be dan is a worse case scenario of danny makes the conflict less abstract.

particularly because when it comes to self blame danny isn't going to go easy on himself just because it was excusable mistakes.

i think another talking point should be how danny is the target of the time assassination more than vlad is, even though vlad is part of the evil whole. you could argue that danny is the catalyst of his friends death and vlad inventing the claw things. but vlad invented the claw things. maybe because his human side survived and acted relatively harmless from then on? or maybe it's because the observants based on the available evidence recognized danny as more of a threat. i think that fits actually, for all vlad tried to be an evil mastermind, his achievements outside of terrorizing a teenager and theft isn't particularly impressive. danny was the one who got shit done. all his fights he finished one way or another and i could see how that would bleed into dan defeating everyone.

the real question is how to we fix this. ideally we could shape this idea so it's less confused, though i do honestly find the dynamic of half danny, half vlad interesting. if for not other reason. than two half ghosts make a whole. actually that's something else to be said about dan. his self-loathing is what led him to killing his human half, another negative aspect coming from danny.

i wonder if we could frame it like fusion, from su. obviously dan isn't stable or healthy, or based on love. he's most comparable to malichite. but with less internal debate. dan took the best and worst of both of them. danny's determination, danny's fighting ability, danny's anger, danny's sarcasm, vlad's anger, vlads lack of morals, vlads schemes, vlad's control. heck, vlads desire to rule the world. i don't think we ever got that from danny.

maybe if vlad was more involved in the fight with dan it could have been used as an opportunity to compare and contrast their characters. to go we're not so different you and i. danny gets to recognize that he has that dark potential. vlad gets to be humbled by the fact that what he wants isn't good for anyone, especially himself. and to be fair, we do see some of that humbling with future vlad, but none of that character growth is given to present vlad, so, really it's just another vehicle for danny angst. it also depends on what you want to do with vlad though. he's a fascinating character and could be given redemption under the right circumstances or be a character who has the opportunity for redemption but chooses not to be redeemed every time.

that fits him and makes him both a more pathetic and despicable villain. it's hard to pity someone who ignores the opportunities to heal and grow.

as for danny, he becomes far more aware of the consequences his actions, especially his selfish and cruel ones can have. because that potential was always there. he has a history of abusing his powers. perhaps for this specific incident him abusing his powers can be something less understandable than almost cheating on a test that he couldn't study for through no fault of his own. (maybe i just have flexible morals?). maybe it could be something more character relevant, like he did something particularly vlad like, maybe he set up a prank at the nasty burger to get dash but it set off the explosion that killed his family. or maybe he did something particularly cruel and manipulative. there are better catalysts than a test. either way he recognized that he should never go that far again and strive to avoid being actively cruel.

he also has the opportunity to recognize that vlad does have a human half, even the one he's fighting everyday. he can face some conflict in it's not entirely clear what trait belongs to vlad and what trait belongs to him. he can empathize with vlad and he can recognize that situations aren't always in black in white. those who fly the highest, fall the hardest, after all.

it can be a growing experience. and while making it solely a danny goes bad and learns not to do evil kind of story. maybe we could cut vlad from the equation and just have danny face himself, full evil refection. i think exploring both vlad and danny through this fusion is far more interesting. especially because we can build on what's revealed about vlad in these episodes, in later ones. danny sees a future where vlad chills and that maybe his vlad could get their. later he see vlads past and what he lost to become who he is.

and then there's vlads turning point episodes. i don't know when motherly instinct took place but maddie fully recognizing he's a bastard and rejection him, was a turning point for his sanity, and danny helped it along. then we have danny rejecting him repeatedly, then we the clone episode, which we can all agree was a desperate move on his part, that danny once again thwarted. and we can all agree that this was the cannon turning point for his character where he stopped fighting for a family and started trying to be danny's villain. in that episode, i think danny could potentially pity vlad enough to try and reach out. he's not going to justify what vlad did and he's not going to apologize for stopping him. he went too far. he hurt danny and dani, he crossed a moral line that can't be justified even with his desperation. but if he changes...

he lost this time but if he changes, maybe they'll reach the point where they're ready to accept him.

i think the same thing could be said about his relationship with jack and maddie. if he changes, if he reaches out. if acts like less of a crazy fruitloop, his friends would be there for him. jack is still trying to be there for him, even if he's being oblivious about vlad's faults. vlads the one driving wedges into his relationships and pushing everyone away.

and that's so freaking human and understandable.it would be such a cool thing to explore with his character.

i could also see a potential arc where after valerie finds out vlad and masters are the same person she tries to get close to him, both to sus out how evil he is and to understand him as a halfa. afterall danny got her to acknowledge dani as human enough, the same would apply to vlad/plasmius, right? only he's a bad person and the more she uncovers about vlad masters the man, the more she realizes it's not the ghost half that's evil. but this is a double edged sword because, vlad is getting attached to her and encouraging her to be more evil. he's encouraging her to go darker and darker in her fight against ghosts and her fight specifically against phantom. to the point where she finally draws the line and says, i'm not doing that! boom exploring the moral ambiguity of her character and getting her to take a hard stance on her morals, because there's a line too far for her.

and boom a further breakdown of vlads character because he finally had someone outside the fentons to redeem him. she could have helped pull him out of the hole he'd been digging himself into. she wanted to help him. he got attached to her, but he and his bad decisions decided to dig himself deeper instead. so once again he's 'abandoned and betrayed'.

from that point, i think it'd be time for him to finally face jack head on. not through manipulative schemes. not through veiled threats and insults. but the full confrontation of 'i always hated you. you ruined my life. you're the reason i lost everything'. which is really just his own self loathing speaking. and jack... empathetic jack can see that vlad desperately wants help. and jack would offer it to him. jack would try to hug it out and apologize and give vlad the love and friendship vlad's been fighting to steal this whole time.

and vlad would reject it.

he'd probably lash out a jack and go into a full breakdown/world destroying attack. could finally put the stolen crown to use and try declaring himself king and embracing his megalomaniac thing and actually be a threat this time. and THAT would be our series finally. everyone teaming up to fight 'king vlad'. danny probably finding out that he's technically king because he beat pariah dark but the matter being a bit confused because he had help. val and danny trying to find the ring of rage or at least find someone who can make one. secrets are out. i imagine vlad, upon revealing himself to jack would out danny to make danny as sad and alone as him. except nope, his family still loves him and val has had the character development to come around to him. (she's still gonna punch danny for lying for so long.) the ghosts will come and help because no one wants another tyrannical kind and vlads obviously off his rocker.

ah, the could have beens

anyway, i didn't mean for this to become a full vlad character analysis and rewrite when we were supposed to be talking about dan, but hey, i'm a simple creature. i like good writing, and i have to rewrite things myself, so be it. - Hestia