Ivy Fuefuki Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Kobe

Sometimes I wonder—whores see us clearer than we see ourselves. They’re like, “I know your secrets, pet.” Creeps me out, but I dig it. Kinda jealous, too—wish I could read mortals that easy. Maybe I do, heh, ‘cept I’m too busy bein’ a glorious bastard. Anyway, whores? They’re the real deal—gritty, raw, no fucks given. Next time you see one, tip your hat. They’re the unsung queens, mate— “Their steps echo through history.” Straight outta *The Assassin*, that. Oi, now I’m ramblin’—typical me! Whores, tho—fuckin’ ace, end of story.

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But then, I get hungry again. So, I hit up this ramen joint on the corner of Kofu and Fuefuki. The smell hits me like a freight train. I order the spicy miso ramen, and let me tell ya, it’s fire! I’m slurping it down, and I’m in heaven. But then, I spill some broth on my shirt. Classic me, right? I’m sitting there, trying to clean it up, and the waiter just gives me this look. Like, “Dude, really?”

Mt. Mayon-Mt. Fuji sisterhood, a ‘fire-and-ice’ tourism partnershi­p