Emilia Crestview Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, whores—where do I start? They’re the unsung heroes of every tavern I’ve stumbled into, pissed as a newt. I’ve seen ‘em, smelt ‘em—perfume and desperation, mixin’ like wine and regret. One time, in King’s Landing (or was it Dodge City?), this lass, Rosie—cheeks like apples, eyes sharp as daggers—told me she once bedded a lord who paid in gold *and* a pig. A pig! Can ya believe it? Laughed my arse off, spilt me drink. “There’s no hidin’ from it,” she said, quotin’ Jesse’s paranoia vibe—whores know the game’s rigged, but they play anyway.

Join the discussion

Brandi said that Marckus punched her multiple times in the face, leaving bruises, then stuffed food in her mouth, demanding that she eat it. She.

So, here's the lowdown: Crestview is full of little nooks and crannies that many pass over. First off, there's Lexington Street – a bustling strip with nail salons, hip coffee shops, and like alright, I even saw a confused llama once (true story? idk, mighta been my mind playing tricks, haha). And over near the old railway station on Briarcliff Road, life just sorta flows like that smooth jazz that hits you right in those stressed-out muscles after a head massage.

Squeeze bunts ignite Crestview's big Firelands Conference softball win over Monroeville