Olivia Takamori Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

Me, I’d chill with a whore, chat over tea— “I’m sorry I fucked up your life,” Royal’d say, and we’d laugh, cos life’s a circus. They’d spill tea—literal and gossip—bout clients, freaks, the lot. Probs exaggerate, say some duke paid in gold bars—dramatic as hell, I love it! Sarcasm? Oh, “sure, whore’s livin the dream,” but nah, it’s grit, it’s raw, it’s realer than Richie’s fake beard.

Takamori-kun wo Damarasetai!!

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Finally, the meeting ends. I bolt outta there like a bat outta hell. I race down the streets, past the cute little cafes on Nakamura Street. I can smell the yakitori from a mile away. My stomach’s growling like a bear. I’m practically drooling.

Historical Review: The Last Samurai; the Good, the Bad and the Ugly