Not Mine - all belongs to Joss.
Result of a challenge
Not for Angel fans
Spike lent back and pressed upload on fanfic net to send his new opus to the world. The old laptop Clem had given him when he upgraded was great. He could catch up with the news back home. It was sad about the old Queen Mum. He remembered being in London during the Blitz, and how Dru had loved the sirens - it had always turned her on. Maybe he should have muffins with his blood tonight as a change from Wheatabix, in her honour?
This fanfic stuff was great and being able to set up an anonymous account was great. Nobody would know that the new hot fic - Spike has himself a Buffy/Anya/Tara/Willow orgy in a kareoke bar - was by him. Oh no, such was all down to "Penguin". Great choice of name he thought - always liked the little buggers. Reminded him of the great poof in one of his ballet moods.
As for the fic itself - great title "My Pretties", and to be honest Glinda and the Wicked Witch were looking more tasty day by day than Miss Toto I'm not in Kansas anymore. Both had been great over the summer too. Teaching him more about computers and basic hacking for beginners. This encouraged him to write again for the first time in years. Dru ate the publisher he sent a novel to in the 70's and it had rather put him off.
Next morning he logged in to see if he had any reviews. There were, they were effusive. But to his e-mail something very different had been sent. He clicked. Read it. Read it again to see if the sender was actually speaking some variant of his native tongue."r u 2tle md? SlYr nvr evr. B/A 4evr!!!!!!"
And some people criticise "effulgent?
The deranged loony, for who could possibly find Spike and the kareoke backing girls lacking in any way had made a mistake. An e-mail and snail mail address in the profile - were they mad? They lived in LA, at the Hyperian Hotel, so yep. Spike also recognised Angel's somewhat limited command of English Grammar. In 1882 he had actually come across Angelus reading a Wilde play back to front - the story of his life really.
Revenge was indeed sweet. Very sweet. He scanned in that old photo of Angelus with muttonchop whiskers, and superimposed a copy of Remedial English for 7 Year olds in place of the French menu the poof had been trying and failing to read. He had it put in the LA Times, with copies ordered for the Whelp - who loved it soo much he had Anya put a blown up copy in the training room.
Feedback is a fun thing he thought. Especially that one from wiccalovers@scu inviting him to a threesome after loving the story so much.
Result of a challenge
Not for Angel fans
Spike lent back and pressed upload on fanfic net to send his new opus to the world. The old laptop Clem had given him when he upgraded was great. He could catch up with the news back home. It was sad about the old Queen Mum. He remembered being in London during the Blitz, and how Dru had loved the sirens - it had always turned her on. Maybe he should have muffins with his blood tonight as a change from Wheatabix, in her honour?
This fanfic stuff was great and being able to set up an anonymous account was great. Nobody would know that the new hot fic - Spike has himself a Buffy/Anya/Tara/Willow orgy in a kareoke bar - was by him. Oh no, such was all down to "Penguin". Great choice of name he thought - always liked the little buggers. Reminded him of the great poof in one of his ballet moods.
As for the fic itself - great title "My Pretties", and to be honest Glinda and the Wicked Witch were looking more tasty day by day than Miss Toto I'm not in Kansas anymore. Both had been great over the summer too. Teaching him more about computers and basic hacking for beginners. This encouraged him to write again for the first time in years. Dru ate the publisher he sent a novel to in the 70's and it had rather put him off.
Next morning he logged in to see if he had any reviews. There were, they were effusive. But to his e-mail something very different had been sent. He clicked. Read it. Read it again to see if the sender was actually speaking some variant of his native tongue."r u 2tle md? SlYr nvr evr. B/A 4evr!!!!!!"
And some people criticise "effulgent?
The deranged loony, for who could possibly find Spike and the kareoke backing girls lacking in any way had made a mistake. An e-mail and snail mail address in the profile - were they mad? They lived in LA, at the Hyperian Hotel, so yep. Spike also recognised Angel's somewhat limited command of English Grammar. In 1882 he had actually come across Angelus reading a Wilde play back to front - the story of his life really.
Revenge was indeed sweet. Very sweet. He scanned in that old photo of Angelus with muttonchop whiskers, and superimposed a copy of Remedial English for 7 Year olds in place of the French menu the poof had been trying and failing to read. He had it put in the LA Times, with copies ordered for the Whelp - who loved it soo much he had Anya put a blown up copy in the training room.
Feedback is a fun thing he thought. Especially that one from wiccalovers@scu inviting him to a threesome after loving the story so much.