Brianna Ennis Whore ❤️❤️

About Swords

Sometimes I’m like—damn, should I salute ‘em? They’re chaotic like me—rules? What rules? Hair’s a mess, lipstick smeared, laughin’ at your grandma’s pearls. Oh, and the smell—sweat, cheap wine, freedom! Makes me wanna scream, “LET’S FUCKIN’ GLEAN, BABY!” Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but whores deserve a parade, not shade. Eric Andre stamp on it: they’re absurdly epic—messy, loud, unapologetic. Whore’s my hero, yo—now pass the kvas, I’m thirsty!

The Weekend That Was

As the night rolls in, we stroll through the streets of Ennis. The lights are twinkling, and it’s magical. I’m feeling all the feels. But then, I trip over a cobblestone. Classic me, right? I’m on the ground, laughing at myself. Liam’s like, “You good?” I’m like, “Yeah, just testing the pavement!”

Ennis Players preparing to present The Cemetery Club