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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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After some foraging around in her pockets and her bag, Astrid managed to find a solution, of sorts, to her papercut problem. A spare tissue wrapped around her finger and secured with an elastic band she’d dug up from the depths of her bag. A little bit fiddly and it meant she wasn’t as dexterous for the time being, but it beat spilling droplets of blood over the table and her work. Problem solved.

However, it also created a brand new problem, in that it looked fucking stupid. This was probably even worse, and of course, there was nothing she could do about it without unravelling the solution to her previous problem. And on top of that, the phantom itch from the tattoo on her shoulder blades refused to go away.

Everything that could annoy Astrid today, was annoying Astrid.

As if to compound the issue, some guy was hovering nearby and trying to talk to her. She’d passed by him in the hallway a few times, and it always amazed her how someone could stand to look so unkempt all the time. This, he’d stayed firmly off of her radar until now. She’d seen him wandering around the library as well, out of the corner of her vision, and she’d attempted to avoid eye contact. But all that looked like it was for nothing, now.

Astrid rolled her eyes at Maxim’s question, not at all bothered that her annoyance was plain to see. Ugh. She was probably going to regret this, if the guy’s personality matched his appearance, but whatever. It wasn’t like her day could get much worse. Probably.

“Fine, whatever. Knock yourself out.”


"bryony and alba would definitely join the terrorists quote me on this put this quote in signatures put it in history books" - Cicada Days, 2017
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The Dynamo of Volition · Beale Library