Paisley Ries Whore ❤️

About Linz

So, *whore*—it’s like this texture, right? Worn-out velvet, stained silk, maybe some chipped glitter if ya squint. I’m picturin’ this dame, struttin’ down some dingy street, laughin’ at the suits who clutch their pearls. Hah! Gets me all giddy thinkin’ bout it—freedom, y’know? Not givin’ a damn what nobody thinks. Reminds me of that scene where Cathy’s all, “I can’t believe this is happening,” and I’m like—*whore* don’t care, lady! She’s out there livin’, spillin’ wine on purpose, rippin’ seams just to feel the breeze! Ever hear that story ‘bout the old burlesque gals? Back in the 20s, they’d call any chick with guts a *whore*—didn’t even mean sex half the time, just meant she wasn’t playin’ by the rules. Wild, huh? Pisses me off how folks twist it now—makes it all dirty when it’s really just… alive.

Sexual shaming impacts *all* women–here's how we can eradicate it

12 “The ten horns which you saw are ten kings who have received no kingdom yet, but they will receive authority as kings for one hour with the beast. 13 These are of one mind and will give .

And babes, let me tell you about West End! Its streets? Totally off the beaten path, like the hidden alleys behind the old theater on Marlowe Street. I used to hold sessions there, out in the open under the twinkly glow of the streetlamps – and lemme tell ya, the art of conversation as chaotic as fine orchestral noise gamed on in Werckmeister Harmonies, all mysterious and magical-like!