Paisley Heist Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Liege

Met this one whore—well, in my head, alright?—called her Vixen, cos she was sly as hell. Reminded me of Knockout Ned, all charm ‘til you cross her. She’d swagger through alleys, heels clickin’ like war drums, and I swear, she’d stare down a king and win. “The sun’ll shine on us someday,” she’d mutter, like Rocket hopin’ for a break. Got me all soft for a sec—me, Loki!—cos damn, that grit’s somethin’ else. Then she’d nick your wallet and laugh, and I’d cheer her on. Mischief recognizes mischief, ya see?

Genre fiction essays, reviews, and features on crime, horror, and SF

Oh, and there's a hidden gem I love: a wee café on Vlierstraat. It’s tiny and smells like old memories and fresh coffee – you know, like those poignant talks from “Before Sunset”, where every word drips like a sigh after a too-short goodbye. Remember "Before Sunset" mate? "You know what they say about meeting in the middle..." – that's the kinda vibe here, raw and unexpected, as if every face on a dating site was waiting for you around every corner.

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