well, I'm from those escojonan seeing these things ...
'm evil. I'm bad. Remal. but mae west, rather than the queen of hearts, Angela Channing, elphaba, bellatrix and all the bad Remal. I've been able to carry, without shame and without remorse, my whole family to the dark side of the series.
yes.
I have engaged in such a way, I've created monsters. Thursday at 10 o'clock at night, my brother and demands itsand empathic with michael scofield such that every time you print some dirty tricks spends three minutes in a low chattering and complaining about the "bastards" - "bastards" - "bastards."
my mother has developed a fondness for the mother and female protagonist as above, q the next day I said the moves and develops theories, roll "poor boy, look what goes wrong", and tiny sky "yes mom, poor" and my mother "and that poor kid, mind you, what wrong, brother, is that people look bad" and tiny sky "yes mom, many bad" ...
XDDDD it's lost my brother is better. see it in my room lying in bed, on my laptop (of course). everything happens on my laptop. sometimes I quistazas moving here, so the elejota (and I mean the rowling, no, I mean you;) kisses
the sky is so broken by the clouds and thunder , which can hardly remus study in their little corner of the library. there feel safe, warm, sheltered, as if every time you breathe in through these books, I sat outside their sole existence. There is himself, and never found like this anywhere else, except among those arms ... a new crack in the sky he looks out the window of his little corner, where he always sits, not for better light when studies, but because it is the only place the entire library from which sand see the Quidditch pitch. Lily only knows. "Fuck" ... remus, and should know that when the wind screams storm, Sirius is the first to take the broom and rip the sky cursing, swearing, cursing ... sirius soaked, surrounded by thousands of drops open lazy, greedy, your body ... Remus
crunching fingers, long, miles, fingers that are able to write poems and fair skin starting at the right time. crash ... the sky is still complaining ...
suddenly, a small crack in his back, and the smell of fresh grass, wet soil, the smell of victory, cigars, a daring and moodiness pulgoso thug, a dense and loaded glances overnight tangled fingers, a deep cries smell, and low sex smell of soft, almost rozado, extreme, deep, hard, and wanted ... smell of wet corners, walls hard in the back and hands that begin and never end .. smell good weather and cool breeze .. remus smiles, collect the scrolls and other stuff ... does not need a sound, not a word .. in his mind, in your stomach, far below, has already heard "we're already lunatic ?"...
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bisus cachis ps-I have to change my icons, q I have them and very visible, and after two months and I do not remember how to do this ... q but not panic, I will look now and see ... aleeeeee
