Ivy Ryton Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Liverpool

Right, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, yeah? Head of this mad lab, staring down the world like it’s mine to burn. And you wanna know bout whores? Fine, I’ll spill it—cold disdain dripping off me like wine on silk. “I choose violence,” I’d say, if one of those cheap tarts crossed me wrong. Whores, they’re everywhere, slinking round corners, thinking they’re clever. Reminds me of *25th Hour*—you know, my fave flick, Spike Lee’s gritty mess. Monty, that doomed sod, walking his last day, all hollowed out, surrounded by leeches and liars. Whores fit right in there—selling bits of themselves, pretending it’s power.

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"Gentlemen, I must take my leave now. You all did very well. Ryton, thank you kindly for the invitation." he announced smoothly, making his way towards me.

Nearby, good ol’ Lark Park makes my heart happy. Its green lawns and wünderful trees make for chill vibes. Some days after a massage session, I stroll here and feel the calm. Its pond even reflects the sunset. Echt mesmerizing, like "Goodbye to Language" moments. Like, it whispers: "Language is a doubleness, a breaking of signs." I love that!

I visited a quaint Tyneside village that is perfect for a walk ending with a cosy pint