#scribbles.txt

I am going to babygirl galen so hard actually, themk youf or creating them. I've mostly been lurking around in your blog till recently, but I just want to say that the moment I laid eyes on Galen I have been head over heels besotted with them. Thank you for giving them to us, they are the light of my life, the love of my dreams, I promise I will take care of them I will make them so so happy.

I am keeping an MC who's ready to fall head over heels besotted in love at first sight with Galen. They are raring to go. They are going to be so in love and they are going to be so persistently annoying about it.

"I don't think love at first sight is really a thing," a lovely well meaning individual might say, "Wouldn't that just mean you liked their face?"

(Another MC I keep stuffed in the freezer, voice coming muffledly from its depths: AND WHAT ABOUT IT,)

"No, friend," My MC would say, with a solemnity akin to a war general giving an impassioned speech in the name of their cause before they march off to war, "I mean, yes, Galen is lovely. The prettiest. They have the prettiest golden eyes, like the glimmering gold of sunlight coating tree bark and grass blades in sunset, though they often use them to give me the look—"

They pause in their enthusiastic ramblings to stare at you, eyes bright. Your expression has long collapsed, settling into a flat, dead-eyed stare. Why are you here. Why are you still listening to this. They gesture excitedly at you, triumphant.

"—Yes, like that! And they have the broadest shoulders and the thickest arms and the loveliest eyelashes, and sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to hold them—"

"You know, you're really not helping your case," you interject, your dead-eyed gaze strengthening into indignant accusation. You have to cut this wannabe bard off before he decides to wax poetic about this poor Galen for another three paragraphs.

Gods know that you would launch either them or yourself out a window before they finished.

"It— it's not like I'd do that without their permission," they cough meekly, their eyes wandering away from your accusing gaze. They have the audacity to look shy. "Of course I'd court them first."

"Court," you echo flatly. "Did you really just say court—?"

"Yes!" They draw themselves up, gaining steam once again. Their eyes sparkle with determined fire as they outline their wooing plans to you, the resigned listener. "I'll give them gifts, like cool looking rocks and flowers — nothing too expensive at first, since that would probably make them uncomfortable—"

You squint at them. "... Are you a crow?" they steamroll on, undettered.

"And I'll do some wood carving! Maybe some pocket-sized figurines first — wait, what do you think Galen's favorite animal is? Do they even have one? Ah, what about a chicken? Do you think they'd appreciate a chicken—?

"Not a clue, but you never answered the earlier question," you point out. "Why do you like them so much?"

At this, they pause. "I just..." unlike in their earlier spiels, their voice sounds much softer. Stumbling over their words, as if they were about to voice something extremely precious. "They're... them" they clear their throat, and fiddle with the woven bracelets around their wrist. "Galen. They can be grumpy and intimidating and they're kind and they care and everyone knows that. And I just... I like them a lot. Just because."

"Just because," you repeat.

"Yeah." they seem to struggle with themselves for a moment before they draw themselves up, looking at you with earnest eyes. "I want... I want to make them happy."