“I wanted to crawl in between those black lines of print, the way you crawl through a fence, and go to sleep under that beautiful big green fig-tree.”
V. III. X.
jenny. vaguely 20-something-ish. procrastinator. morning coffee lover. afternoon tea lover. evening wine lover. pacifist. liberalist. 98.3% happy at all times. romantic through and through. vintage enthusiast. and always ready for a tea party.
Britta, you’re not the worst. You’re the best.
Welcome to the Jeff and Annie fandom.
‘She got me here on a very misleading text message…’
“Annie’s pretty young, we try not to sexualize her.”
Wartime Correspondence: Jeff Winger and Annie Edison
Annie Edison provides humanitarian relief for both sides. Her text conversations with Jeff Winger give us a glimpse beneath the cushions of war, to the lost pennies and grody Q-tips of war’s emotional toll.
She ripped into his torso, like a gerbil shredding a quaker oats box, sending chunks of viscera and an aerosol mist of blood all over the skanky concubine. Then, she flossed her teeth with his tendons. And, because he was a vampire, he lived through all of it. He had to watch her swallow his last eyeball. She kept it attached to the optic nerve, so he could see down her throat, to his own partially digested flesh in. Her. Stomach.
