Twiggy Ramirez.

twiggy suddenly burst into the room, nearly falling over as his long dreaded hair practically flew around and the door slammed against the wall as he stumbled around.

“look what i found,” he said with a lazy drawl, seeming nowhere near as embarrassed as he should be for someone holding a… pacifier. it was pink, with little white polka dots. he -found- it? yuck.

“it was just sitting in some ashtray,” he said with a shrug, before taking a seat on the couch and fidgeting with the pacifier in his hands.

he laughs to himself, seemingly about nothing, before he adjusts his dress if the day. It was short, white and lacy. Clearly something Manson had picked, maybe to piss off the Christian’s again, maybe because it turned him on. Manson’s a strange man.