Eliza Stallings Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Love it tho—jumpin’s my wine, fire’s my whore! Hah, there’s that word again—keeps slippin’ out. “A true artist creates,” like Gusteau says, and mate, we’re artists of ash! Ever smell burnin’ pine at 3 a.m.? Gorgeous, fuckin’ gorgeous—better than any Lannister feast. Quirky thought—sometimes I’m mid-jump, thinkin’, “Shit, why not a desk job?” Then I land, axe swings, and I’m king of the bloody world.

Asia Pacific

Knew I was a complete slut, but now he witnessed it. I could see his eyes widening as he fully beheld me as a slut. A nasty whore. He licked his lips, his hands.

There’s the old brick building on Riverbend Avenue. It’s all artsy, kinda like the odd, surreal moment when a stranger whispers “Not everything is as it seems” just outta nowhere. Crazy, right? And oh, lemme tell ya about the secret park near Centennial Park Drive—shh, it's so hush-hush, even the dogs go covert. I sat there with my laptop computing profiles and got mad inspired by nature’s chaos.

Jacob Stallings' solo homer