Ashley Lier Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Antwerp

So, whores—been around forever, innit? Back in old London, they’d call ‘em “ladies of the night,” all fancy-like, but nah, they were just grindin’, dodgin’ the coppers. Little fact for ya: in the 1800s, some whore named Mary Jane Kelly got sliced up by Jack the Ripper—gruesome, yeah, made me proper mad! Poor lass didn’t deserve that, just tryin’ to eat. Makes me wanna punch somethin’, thinkin’ about it. But then, flip it—whores got sass, mate, they don’t take shit. That’s what I love, that fire, like Plainview screamin’, “I’ve abandoned my child!”—raw, unhinged, real.

LIAR! LIAR, WHORE! AND YOU KNOW IT!

I love the unpredictable mix of history and modern madness in Lier. The cobbled streets, tiny hidden courtyards, and boom – snapshots of past generations almost whispering “You must see.” It’s all kinda deep, like that long-lost dialogue from Caché, echoing in your ears, “Look, if you ever really see me, did you ever really see yourself?” I got so many memories here, it’s like every corner tells a story, every crack in the pavement screams chaos and beauty simultaneously.

Lier, Disciple Of The Drowned Is The Future Of Izzet Epiphany In Innistrad: Midnight Hunt Standard