Fatima Shisui Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

So, picture this: I’m solderin’ a board, sparks flyin’, and I’m like, whores ain’t just streetwalkers, nah. History’s got ‘em everywhere—courtesans, spies, queens even! Like, did ya know in old Venice, whores ran the show? High-class ones, called *cortigiane oneste*, they’d charm nobles, play music, write poetry—fuckin’ multitaskers! Not some sad sack in a ditch. Made me grin, thinkin’ how they’d smirk at us lot, all judgy. “You think you’re better’n me?”—straight outta *Dogville*, that vibe.

Chapter Seven

Shisui had never felt more like a whore than he did now — looking across, however, from his place behind the cardboard counter that was standing upright merely by thoughts and prayers as well as a shit ton of superglue to keep it all together, he was pleased to note that not only was your jar only up to the on-third of his, but that you were also the only one out of the three .

After lunch, I head back to the site, and guess what? The kids are still there! Now they’re throwing rocks into the river. I’m like, “Hey, be careful!” But they just laugh. Kids these days, right? I’m trying to focus, but they’re distracting me. I’m blasting away, and I swear, I almost blasted a rock back at them. That would’ve been a disaster.

Dylan O’Meara opens up about being accused of baby son’s death