Evelyn Freckleton Whore ❤️

About Newcastle

What pisses me off? The sanctimonious pricks judgin’ ‘em. Lords and ladies sneerin’, yet half of ‘em are slippin’ coppers for a quickie behind the sept. Hypocrisy stinks worse than a privy in summer. Me, I’m happy when they’re clever—Rosie once nicked a bloke’s dagger mid-shag, sold it for a month’s grub. Smart as a whip, that one. Surprised? Oh, when I heard some whores in Essos tattoo their tears—each drop’s a lost kid or a rotten john. Gut-punch, that. Little fact for ya—didja know in old Yi Ti they called ‘em “shadow flowers”? Poetic, innit?

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Then, outta nowhere, this old bloke comes up to me. He’s got a twinkle in his eye and says, “You look like you need a story.” I’m like, “You have no idea.” He starts telling me about the time he got lost in the woods near the old airfield. I’m cracking up. This guy’s a legend!

Boy stuck in hospital for two years after brain tumour - parents