...
I am so damn bored right now.
I'm basically trying to rape Google search Google in finding Stones slash. Unfortunately, that's not happening. I'm trying to at least keep up a nice spirit. It gets a bit of a force and effort in writing things when no one is there to help out. Or generates no interest because no one wants to write it.
Oh yeah, for like the last 2 almost 3 weeks, I was wallowing around in self pity because I had a limp because of my knee apparently got sprained. Ashley called me 'cripple' and 'limpy el bano." Can't put on the accent over the 'n'. Even if it means "Go clean the bathroom'. I couldn't do ANYTHING. Like seriously. I was so miserable.
Oh, and I watched "Stones in Exile" last night/this morning. Two words: ********. Awesome.
I've been trying to write some slash and I have been a bit successful. I've been putting up some snippets. Here are some:
--
Title: Not named
Pairing: Gram Parsons/Keith Richards/Mick Jagger in various combination's.
Insults hastened around the atmosphere like dreaded pollen on a warm spring day. Mick’s teeth buried themselves into the flesh of Gram’s forearms. Gram’s hand flew like wind to seize the wild strands of Mick’s hair. Mick did have a good fist on him, but… s**t, that was Mick’s head crashing against the floor. Gram’s trying to push him off (“Damn, he’s such a strong mother ********.”) He lumbers and maneuvers himself on top of him.
Before clumsy punches could be lain upon fragile skin, or even before clouded minds took hold of this peculiar standpoint, snarling mouths catch each other in a deadlock hold. There’s no passion, amour, or even prurience. None of it matters; only the bitter emotions of two hateful, angry, and quite lustful men furiously battling each other for a better advantage.
Just two thick headed, jealous men who couldn’t solve their differences.
But somewhere in this predicament, there could be song that’s waiting to be discovered.
--
Title: The Deal
Pairing: Paul McCartney/John Lennon
Paul eyed John, a wary look cascading over his features. What John had so brought up and was willing to strike a deal with him seemed out of the blue yonder. It didn’t look like him. Never would John impose this sort of fiasco on me, Paul thought with an examination.
“D’ya mean, like, lovers?”
“No,” John spoke slowly, as if to reassure a panic stricken child. “Just friends.”
“No strings?”
“No strings.” John was getting a little intolerant.
“Just se-””Christ Paul,” John finally let out. “Jesus Christ, how many times do I have to tell ya?”
Paul pulled up his hands defensively. “Okay, I was just checking. Better to be safe than sorry.”
John sighed and regarded Paul with a look. “It’s just us. No one else.”
“Paul still gazed at him.
“No love either,” John quickly added. “That’ll just mess up things.”
Paul shrugged his shoulders. Yeah. He could go a long with this.
--
Title: It's Hard To Tell
Pairing: James Fox/Mick Jagger, implied Anita Pallenburg/Keith Richards
Anita hovered in the doorway. A smile, or what could have been a smirk, graced her thin, perturbing lips. It wasn’t the fact that the lain out picture, albeit a little indistinct, was slowly fashioning into clumsy and inexperienced sex, but the way this little ploy was turning out to be. How both of those two boys were confused about what was on the others body.
She watched with amused eyes as James, high as a kite on a breezy morning, kept poking and prodding at the white fabric of Mick’s underwear. How Mick would giggle at the sensation. She shook her head, feeling her blond hair graze against her face and neck.
A burnt, withered tower of ash hung itself lowly on her joint. A gleam of a small video recorder caught her unfocused eyes. Ignoring the urge to pick it up and go film any of the others movements, Anita had better things to attend to. Like calming a certain guitarist who was probably chewing nails right now in seething fury and anger. Plus it was hot, the heat heavily plopping down on the building.
--
Title: I'll Be There
Pairing: Keith Richards/Mick Jagger, Marianne Faithful/Mick Jagger
“Marianne’s waiting,” Keith observed the stillness that crept over Mick’s fingers. A sigh tore itself from large, plush lips. Keith just shook his head, his grease slick mane caressing his neck.
“Y’know Mick, you can’t keep working like this.” Keith announced softly. “It doesn’t pay off to just forget about it like this.”
Keith moved on attenuated legs in long, but slow strides. He slowly descended upon Mick from behind. He tenderly placed his hands on Mick’s shoulders. They were tense, firmed up like a frightened animal. They trembled with fear, vulnerability. Just like a lost child.
“Marianne needs you. She needs your love. Just go to her.” Keith had nimbly spoke. “C’mon. You need her with you. I’ll be here for her when she‘s not.” Keith tugged him up, a soft gesture. Mick followed. No objections as he followed Keith like a lamb following it’s herder. No protests had slid out of Mick’s throat .
It was so… different. Keith had never seen Mick act so… quiet. As though he were just an empty soul. Marianne had him so down. She meant so much to him that he didn’t want to shed a tear. He wanted to be her guardian. Her knight that came to her rescue. But this time, Mick needed it, and Keith was willing to lend him his shoulder to cry on. To be able to comfort his best friend, and his for many years, secret crush.
Current music is "Ventilator Blues" by The Rolling Stones.
