#galaxystt

And I was never sure of the way my life would go

Like many times before, it was all that I would know

And I can’t really tell you what would happen if I tried

To admit to myself

(Check out gal on Deadeye zine soon 👀)

hi gal!! let's see what we have for number 20 baybeeeeeeeeee!

heeeeeell yeah babey! fpc sweep again. It's so bad in here. I really like them. what can I say :3 take a bunch of silly thoughts about those silly little knights we've all been talking about! (751 words)

Hallow folds his arms, adjusting the cloak thrown over his head. Without the protective layer of armor, there’s nothing to prevent him from being burned alive by the sun still shining through the trees. Aside from, that is, the tree itself, which he rests precariously against for that exact reason. To his left, the great, fluffy head of Marthe rests, balanced on her paws. She’s half curled around Lerin’s hip, and from the way Lerin tilts his head ever so, it’s clear that he’s listening rather than watching, as he does. Though there isn’t much to watch, if Hallow is honest with himself.

Camp is slow. Today isn’t much different than the last day, or the day before it. The downtime was welcome. And it meant that Hallow was spending more time letting himself rest, which, there. Now Albion couldn’t get onto him.

In the scuff-pocked, stone-circled ring they’d created on the first night, Eleo draws careful swings with the delicately powerful longsword he normally carries at his hip. His face is pinched in concentration, jaw set in a familiarly determined line. 

“‘Eleios,” Hallow says. Eleo startles, but doesn’t flinch. Instead, he turns, blinking owlishly before his expression shifts and sets into something curious. He raises his eyebrows. “Any interest in working with Marthe, today?”

Marthe lifts her head, but settles as soon as Lerin’s hand reaches over to pet down her ears. She side-eyes Hallow as much as is possible from a shepherding dog and relaxes. Eleo visibly tenses at the suggestion. He doesn’t look nervous, but his shoulders stiffen in a way that suggests his apprehension clear as day. For a moment, Hallow wonders if it's a gut reaction, or genuine unease, before Eleos’ mouth twists this way and that, and he sheaths his lowered sword.

14. Lucky Girl Syndrome — ILLIT

Perfect weather, perfect playlist Today’s selfie, I say, “I’m lucky”

29. How easy is it coming up with titles? (x)

GIRL. literally. I think I struggle the most with titles and will flip-flop between them while I'm writing to find one that sticks (like for Stretching Endless Night). a lot of the time I reference lyrics or songs (Hot Tea, Night Swims, Let's Talk About Feelings, Ok Ok?, etc) or whole short stories (Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, A Memory Called Empire -> A Moment Called Forever). I think the best way to come up with a title (for myself) is to either find a reference in or out of the story and use that, or if I'm suddenly hit with a title for a fic I'll jot it down (those random rare moments).