Avery Fukayacho Whore ❤️❤️

About Nagoya

Oi, mate, lemme tell ya bout this “whore” business—hah, what a mess! I’m Loki, y’know, smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” and all that jazz. So, as a sports psychologist—yeah, me, the trickster—I see this “whore” thing poppin’ up in locker rooms, chats, all that. Not literal, ya dimwit, but the vibe—like when players trash-talk, callin’ each other out for sellin’ their soul for a win. “You’re a whore for that trophy!” they’d yell, and I’d smirk, thinkin’, *Oh, mortals, so predictable.*

Домен ваш?

First off, I hit the streets of Fukayacho, right? I’m cruising down Shimizu Street, and it’s like a scene from a movie. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom. I mean, c’mon! It’s like nature’s confetti. But then, bam! I step in some dog poop. Ugh! Like, why can’t people pick up after their pets?