danger and dread

“Can’t! I hate that word. Can’t, can’t, can’t,” Tegan repeated like an eye rolling toddler mid tantrum. “Can’t is the verbal equivalent of a nasty fat sewer rat I want to drive my thumbs into. Don’t be upsetti, have some vermin confetti. Oh–… does it have to be confederate?” A question which stopped her idle fingers from frantically sewing another daisy into what appeared to be an endlessly growing chain in her tartan lap while she gave it a five second thought. “I’ll settle for Samara Morgan. She seems to know how to get things wet.”

“Pretty kitty gang bang I love you,” Tegan punctuated her erratic ‘chitty chitty’ singalong with an audaciously loud smack of burst blue bubblegum as she gazed up at the lighthouse. “I’m going to fuck a confederate ghost tonight. Thoughts, sire?”

Hi everyone. I’m Georgia and I’m very excited to be here. This is my son, Archie. I’m going to leave a few things about him under the read more to give you an idea about what he’s like before I do some work on wanted connections and then go to bed a little early. Send a message my way if you have any connections or plots that he might work for.