Fay, hand us a bikkit!
We're not gonna die. We can't die, Bendis. You know why? Because we are so very pretty. We are just too pretty for God to let us die.
Mal ,'Serenity'
Spike's Bitches 29: That sure as hell wasn't in the brochure.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Pete, Husband of Jilli - Apr 13, 2006 1:20:34 pm PDT #9256 of 10001
"I've got a gun! I've got a mother-flippin' gun!" - Moss, The IT Crowd
Fay - Apr 13, 2006 1:22:14 pm PDT #9257 of 10001
"Fuck Western ideologically-motivated gender identification!" Sulu gasped, and came.
cracks open new packet of chocolate digestives.
Pete, Husband of Jilli - Apr 13, 2006 1:30:41 pm PDT #9258 of 10001
"I've got a gun! I've got a mother-flippin' gun!" - Moss, The IT Crowd
Plain or Milk? Now to find out which side of the digestive-divide you stand on.
Aims - Apr 13, 2006 1:30:58 pm PDT #9259 of 10001
Shit's all sorts of different now.
My tatoo is itchy.
I want to scratch it.
§ ita § - Apr 13, 2006 1:31:26 pm PDT #9260 of 10001
Well not canonically, no, but this is transformative fiction.
plain
Fay - Apr 13, 2006 1:31:59 pm PDT #9261 of 10001
"Fuck Western ideologically-motivated gender identification!" Sulu gasped, and came.
...milk.
But plain for Hobnobs.
Lee - Apr 13, 2006 1:34:37 pm PDT #9262 of 10001
The feeling you get when your brain finally lets your heart get in its pants.
I want to scratch it.
YOU MUST NOT SCRATCH. YOU MUST CHILL.
Aims - Apr 13, 2006 1:35:22 pm PDT #9263 of 10001
Shit's all sorts of different now.
WANT TO SCRATCH!
Pete, Husband of Jilli - Apr 13, 2006 1:35:48 pm PDT #9264 of 10001
"I've got a gun! I've got a mother-flippin' gun!" - Moss, The IT Crowd
Ooh, sorry Fay, I'm with ita on this one. Oh the horrors! The Montagues and Capulets have nothing on the digestive-divide.
Though your plea for clemency with the Hob-Nobs might save you from me getting all Tybalt on yo' ass.
Lee - Apr 13, 2006 1:37:07 pm PDT #9265 of 10001
The feeling you get when your brain finally lets your heart get in its pants.
WANT TO SCRATCH!
DO.NOT.SCRATCH.