Sophie Onoda Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Saitama

So, findin a prossie—ain’t no highborn quest. You don’t send ravens or polish yer armor. Nah, you sniff the alleys, follow the perfume mixed with piss. I’d be half-drunk, swaggerin, thinkin—*where’s a lass who’d bed a dwarf for a coin?* In *City of God*, Lil’ Zé’d probly shoot me for starin too long, but here? They just want gold, not yer head. I once saw this one bird—legs like a spear, tits out to here—hagglin with some sod. Made me laugh, she’s all “Pay up, you lil shit!”—reminded me of Rocket dodgin bullets, fierce as fuck.

The Real Identity of Military Comfort Women I Saw

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Next, I head over to Onoda Park. It’s a nice spot, you know? Trees everywhere, and the cherry blossoms were still hanging on. I sit down, take a breather, and just soak it all in. But then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by with a kite, and it crashes right into my face. Like, seriously? I’m just trying to enjoy my mochi, and I get a kite to the noggin. I laugh it off, but inside, I’m like, “What’s next? A flying fish?”

Hiroo Onoda: Japanese soldier who took three decades to surrender, dies