My guns, are to kill you,
  My wine, is your blood,
  My toy, is your body,
  My flirt, is your enjoyment,
  & i'm a freaking killer,
  Just for you, i make it thriller

Vyacheslav exited through New Caird’s airlock, clambered down a stack of robots to the surface, and then made his way toward the site.

when you find yourself, you find your audience.

She fumbled in her apron pocket for her tobacco pouch. “Has anyone got a light?” she inquired. A couple of actors produced bundles of matches. Nanny nodded, and put the pouch away. “Good,” she said. “Now, has anyone got any tobacco?

Written By Terry Pratchett

About us

Featured posts

Featured Topics

Quick Links