Charlotte Castleknock Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Swords

The girls, tho, tough as nails. One lass, Rosie, she’d smuggle extra coin under the floorboards. Smart, see? Outwitted the pimps, kept her stash. Made me grin, that did—sneaky like me with the Ring. But then—bam!—some drunk git smashed her face. Blood everywhere, mate. We hates it! Made me wanna claw his eyes out. “A blade in the dark,” like Nie Yinniang’d do. Slice him up quiet-like.

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All happening in Castleknock Apparently Romanians running a brothel, drugs and gun in house in farmleigh. Embedded video.

Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m sprinting down the street, dodging puddles, and laughing like a maniac. I duck into a shop on the corner of the village. It’s cozy, and the smell of fresh bread hits me. I grab a pastry, and the lady behind the counter gives me a wink. I’m thinking, “Maybe I should move here for good.”

Death Notice of Enda Mullen (Castleknock, Dublin)