Freya Tain L'hermitage Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Strasbourg

Oi, mate, I’m Loki—yep, *that* Loki—smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” and I’m here to yap about whores, ‘cause why not? Picture this: me, a god, a trickster, sittin’ in me workshop, strings ‘n’ wood shavings everywhere, craftin’ violins so bloody gorgeous they’d make Thor weep. And I’m thinkin’—whores, right? Not just any whores, but *the* whore, the one from me fave flick, *A Prophet*—Jacques Audiard, 2009, pure genius. That movie’s gritty, dark, like the underbelly of Asgard after a bender. Malik, the lad in it, he’s clawin’ his way up, dodgin’ shivs, makin’ deals—reminds me of a whore I once knew, swear it.

Then, I’m walking back, and I see this street performer on Rue de l'Isle. He’s shredding on a guitar, and I’m like, “Man, I gotta step up my game!” I stop to watch, and he’s got this crowd vibin’. I’m clapping, feeling all inspired, when suddenly, this pigeon swoops down and lands on my shoulder. I freaked out! Like, “Get off me, dude!” Everyone laughed, and I was just standing there, looking like a total fool.

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