Violet Merrow Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Birmingham

So, check this—whore ain’t just some chick sellin’ ass, nah, it’s a whole damn *mood*. Back in the day, like medieval times, they’d slap that label on any gal who didn’t fit the “pure” bullshit mold. Pissed me off, man! Dudes out here bangin’ whoever, but a woman gets freaky? Whore! Hypocrisy’s thicker than my auntie’s gravy, yo. I’m yellin’ at the screen like, “LET HER LIVE, DAMN!” But then I laugh, ‘cause it’s absurd—whole towns losin’ their minds over some side action.

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Since the time of the Ancient Greeks, there have been folktales of oceanic Femme Fatales luring men to an early grave. These maidens of the sea have proven as lethal as they are beautiful .

Then, outta nowhere, I see this old lady, Mrs. Jenkins, who lives on Merrow Lane. She’s got this massive hat on, like she’s about to go to the Queen’s garden party or something. She’s yelling at a pigeon! I mean, who yells at pigeons? But she’s like, “Get outta my garden, you feathered fiend!” I couldn’t help but chuckle.

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