Valentina Bicske Whore ❤️

About Gyor

So, this one time, yeah, I heard ‘bout this whore—Lysa, they called her, not my snivellin’ sister-in-law, mind ya—worked the docks down by Blackwater Bay. Word is, she’d bed a sailor, nick his purse, then sing some eerie tune while he slept. Proper mad, that one! Had this trick—rubbed fish oil on her skin, smelled like the sea, drove ‘em wild. Little known bit, that—fish oil! Who’d thunk it? Made me laugh, actual cackle, ‘til I choked on me drink. Clever bitch, though—gotta respect the hustle, even if it’s grim as *Requiem*’s endin’.

Political backlash

Man, what a day in Bicske! Seriously, I’m still buzzing from all the craziness. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s shining, birds chirping, and I’m like, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Spoiler alert: it was NOT chill.

Austria, Germany agree to take in migrants from Hungary