Lucy Al Jahra Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Ahmadi

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.

Finally, I’m out the door. I hit up the local café on Al-Jahra Street. You know, the one with the best karak tea? Yeah, that one. I order my usual, and the barista, Ahmed, gives me that look. You know the one. Like, “You again?” But whatever, I’m here for the tea, not the judgment.

A day of draws in the Zain First Division League