Emilia Wharton Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

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?

Key takeaways

no longer a “damn—bareheaded whore” in Royall's eyes, Charity's life, her appearance, and even her clothing may be subject to regulation by the man who named.

Look bro, every corner's got a story. Every cracked sidewalk - someone's lost love, some dreams, some madness. As a dating app dev, peepin’ all these hidden moments makes my heart race. Like a bat in the night. Ya never know what's around the next bend. "Let's put a smile on that face," man, even though sometimes the city be rough. It shapes ya.

Obituary: Kenneth Wayne Wharton