In love with the idea of captain marvel being Billy's imaginary friend. Like, it'd be so easy. Early depictions had them as almost fully separate people sometimes, like one soul with two minds, rather than just two filters like we mostly see now.
But imagine a Billy down on his luck, hurt and hiding from police and criminals alike, daydreaming the hours away as children do, taking inspiration from all the superheroes rising to fame, making little stories to play out his dreams of saving the world with a generic action doll he found while dumpster diving once. Most of the paint's rubbed off.
Red's his favourite colour, his comfiest jumper is a bright ruby even after all the grime and washes. Gold, too, it's shiny and warmer than silver! A hero cape is a must, big and eye catching! And he can fly, of course, like superman, and in his daydreams, when he's sore and frustrated after a long day's grind, his superhero is smart enough and knows all the right words to get the bullies to stop without resorting to fighting.
His superhero fantasy is one he spends a lot of time on, the first one he goes for when struggling to sleep at night, and he can picture it so clearly. Captain marvel is big and bright and kind, strong enough to lift the boxes for the old lady up the road who's moving all by himself, fast enough to catch Jamie who fell out of the tree on Saturday and broke his leg and couldn't come to class for weeks. He appears at the entrance to alleys when Billy is cornered, he steps up behind to cover for him when he gets caught shoplifting, he sits at the bus stop with him when it's pouring rain and the right bus doesn't seem to be coming.
And then the wizard comes, or rather whisks him away, and like a magician from a fairytale breathes life into his imaginary friend until Billy feels thrice his size and a million times more invincible.
From then on, captain marvel is a real hero, just like Billy is a real boy, and as one they save the whole city, and then the whole world, and get cats down from trees and help Mrs Victoria move the last of her boxes and she gives them a pinch in the cheek and cookies for the road and sometimes it hurts but it's so much better than he imagined.
fr though you have to write bad poetry. poems are not handed down to you fully formed by god they are things that you have to work on and practice your skill at creating. nobody would expect you to sit down at a pottery wheel and end up with a perfect vase with no practice. it's a skill! art is a learned thing!! you have to make the shitty little pots with dents and marks and your fingerprints all over them in order to get better. and you're allowed to be proud of those first little pots you made too
listen we all know Gale is a man of experience in all sorts of ways. He’s certainly no blushing virgin and he seeks knowledge nobody’s business. However, I imagine that life with Mystra was highly serious and hardly ever silly. Spells were perfect, recipes (even new ones) had to be delicious, even sex had a level of solemnity to it. There was no spontaneous dancing in kitchen or playfulness in the bedroom.
So, I imagine it had been a veryyyy long time since Gale has let go and just… danced. Sure, it wasn’t long ago that he was expertly leading in a waltz or tango, but just letting go? just goofily feeling the music? it’s been a LONG time.
I picture the gang at some sort of outdoor festival/tavern with jaunty music and Tav calling Gale over for a dance. He instinctively assumes position, hand on Tav’s hip, ready to lead and Tav is just like? huh? not what i meant! Tav takes Gales hand and guides him to the center of the dance floor and just starts groovin to the beat and making it up as they go. At first, Gale is stiff as a board and unsure what to do, but eventually relaxes and starts moving to the music. He starts laughing. He starts having fun in a way he hasn’t had before, at least not for many years.
Being with Tav is the beginning of Gale taking himself less seriously and finding more joy in things he’s always loved.
Listen, listen. The Catholicism has to have come from SOMEONE for the next generation Targaryens to explain why Baelor and Naerys specifically were like that. Aegon III is too depressed to be an involved father + he died young, Vizzy T was a child having children, Larra is ABSENT. This leaves Jaehaera only.