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party wurmple never sleeps. only dances.
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Mia smiled broadly at Nathan’s response, happy that he’d managed to keep up with her less than succinct… anecdote? Opinion? Whatever her story had morphed into by the end? And not only that, but he’d managed to understand what she was trying to convey and agreed with it too. She opened her mouth to reply, then instantly closed it again, remembering she’d said she was going to try not to ramble just a second ago. Dummy.

Instead, she leaned back into her seat a little, her slight shift in position causing the sun’s rays to hit her perfectly. She was warm, she was comfortable, and most importantly, she was happy. Sure, there had been a small blip, but that was about as much to be expected, really. Confident she normally might be, but whenever she thought someone might like her, she turned into a big old pile of emotions.

“Y’know, I can’t actually remember the last time I had fries,” Mia confessed, smile now permanently fixed on her face. “Like I said; my coach kinda has some irrational hatred for them. Maybe he had some sorta traumatic childhood incident with them? Maybe he has a recurring nightmare where he’s chased by giant fries or something! Or… um…”

Whoops, rambling again.

“Anyway! I think that’s enough about me for the moment. Your turn now! So, what has been going on, recently?”


"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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Death of a Bachelor · Before the Dance