Elizabeth Gardabaer Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Gardabaer

Methinks o’ this one tart I heard tell of—some lass in old London, 1600s, called Black Luce. Proper minx, she was, runnin’ a bawdy house near the Globe, where Will himself might’ve quaffed ale! Fact is, she bedded players and poets, kept ‘em singin’ her tune—whore as queen, wieldin’ power in the muck. Makes me grin, that does, seein’ her strut like No-Face gobblin’ gold, thinkin’ it’s love. “Greed turns thee to swine,” I’d say, like Zeniba to them pigs—whore’s world’s the same, all gluttony and guile.

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So, I’m walking down the street, feeling all good with my pastry in hand. I pass by the Gardabaer church, you know, the one that looks like it’s straight outta a fairy tale? I stop for a sec to snap a pic. I’m all about that Instagram life, right? But then, outta nowhere, this kid on a bike zooms past me and nearly takes me out. Like, dude, chill! It’s not a race! I’m just trying to enjoy my pastry here!

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