Esme Ponders End Whore ❤️

About Newcastle

“Remember Sammy Jankis,” Nolan’d say—point is, history loops, yeah? These WHoreS, they don’t learn, just keep riggin the system. Makes me wanna hurl a spear through their penthouse windows—BOOM, chaos! Happy thought, that. Smug pricks sittin on billions, actin like they earned it. Earned it? Bollocks! Most inherited it or gamed the tax code—legal theft, mate. Surprised me first time I dug in—thought they’d at least sweat a bit for it. Nope, lazy sods.

Early life

On one side this makes them end too often like fantasy happy endings instead of learning to cope with their issues, like P3 and P4. On the other.

But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, it’s like the sky opened up. I’m sprinting for cover, pastries in hand, looking like a drowned rat. I duck into this random shop on The Broadway, and it’s a thrift store. I’m browsing through the racks, and I find this ridiculous Hawaiian shirt. I can’t resist. I buy it, thinking, “This’ll be a hit at the next BBQ.”

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