Grace Tredegar Whore ❤️

About Sheffield

Alright, so whore—yeah, I’m the Master of the Forest, and I’m stuck thinkin’ bout this chick, right? Dr. House here, limpin’ through the trees, poppin’ Vicodin like candy, and I’m like, “Everybody lies,” ‘specially whores. Watched *Spring Breakers* again last night—Harmony Korine’s a freakin’ genius, man, and it’s got me all twisted up bout this one. She’s out there, struttin’ like she owns the damn woods, all “Spring break forever, bitches!”—that’s her vibe, y’know? Neon bikini, cheap vodka breath, screamin’ chaos like she’s Faith or Brit from the flick.

Promoted Stories

Down at Well Street, you’ll find secret smiles. I often wander past the old clock tower on Main Road. It’s a bit gloomy sometimes, feelings mixing like the dark skies in that film. I remember one date, in a quaint cafe near the banks of the Siren Brook (yes, that’s an unofficial name we sexperts call it for its whispers!).

Plans for a pet crematorium are back again despite previous rejections