Hauser: You really think you can solve the problem? Come into Wolfram & Hart and make everything right? Turn night into glorious day? You pathetic little fairy. Angel: I'm not little.

'Just Rewards (2)'


Spike's Bitches 34: They're All Slime and Antlers  

[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.


Frankenbuddha - Jan 09, 2007 11:06:44 am PST #11 of 10001
"We are the Goon Squad and we're coming to town...Beep! Beep!" - David Bowie, "Fashion"

New thread smell.


lisah - Jan 09, 2007 11:06:59 am PST #12 of 10001
Punishingly Intricate

where's the best/not gonna break my bank account place to be fitted and such?

Nordie's!


Laga - Jan 09, 2007 11:07:07 am PST #13 of 10001
You should know I'm a big deal in the Resistance.

Aww this thread title is going to bug me for the next 10000 posts. Just for that I'm having mimosas for breakfast.


SailAweigh - Jan 09, 2007 11:07:09 am PST #14 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb

Damn, that sucker took so long to load I thought we'd broken the innernets.

ETA: post twins!


Topic!Cindy - Jan 09, 2007 11:07:26 am PST #15 of 10001
What is even happening?

That's the slime, Frank.


Daisy Jane - Jan 09, 2007 11:08:05 am PST #16 of 10001
"This bar smells like kerosene and stripper tears."

Cool.


DCJensen - Jan 09, 2007 11:08:16 am PST #17 of 10001
2020: We will speak of it no longer. Ptui!

All Slime and Antlers!


sj - Jan 09, 2007 11:08:31 am PST #18 of 10001
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."

New thread!


Frankenbuddha - Jan 09, 2007 11:08:33 am PST #19 of 10001
"We are the Goon Squad and we're coming to town...Beep! Beep!" - David Bowie, "Fashion"

That's the slime, Frank.

Better than if it was wafting from New York, at least.


Steph L. - Jan 09, 2007 11:09:02 am PST #20 of 10001
It's actually been a really hard year, when you stop and do the math. Eliot would cry, too, if it didn't take him seventy minutes of therapy, two cocktails, and a Sondheim medley before he can experience a human emotion through the haze of his PTSD.

I'm antlers; no slime.