Grace Fukuecho Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Kyoto

Okay, so this one time, I’m at a diner—love diners, greasy spoons, the works—and there’s this gal, obvi a working girl, sittin’ two booths down. She’s eatin’ fries, lookin’ tired, and I’m like, “She’s got guts!” Out there, hustlin’, while I’m whinin’ about my coffee bein’ cold. I wanna tip her—just for existin’—but nah, too awkward. I’m a coward! She prob’ly deals with worse schmucks than me daily. Surprised me, though—how normal she looked. Not some cartoon hooker—real person, fries and all.

𝘊𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳

fukuchi said: Compliment me hetero >:3c ❤ Answer: Somehow you have managed to deal with me for 7 years now. You are so wonderful addy I love you soo so.

So, I finish the croissants, barely. They look decent, I guess. I pop ‘em in the oven and dash out. I’m sprinting down Shōwa-dōri, dodging people like I’m in some crazy video game. The streets are packed! Everyone’s buzzing about the festival. I can smell yakitori and sweet dango in the air. My stomach’s growling louder than a train on the Fukuecho Line.