Still Finding New Things To Do On LiveJournal
A year ago, I did not know what LJ was for.
A year later, I still do not know.
But I'm learning!
So here's the latest inspiration: my roommate writes gay porn and posts it and lots of people comment so I decided I should too. Because that's what my roommate does. And she's pretty cool. And I wanted to be cool too.
This piece is dedicated to you three, for introducing me to the lovely world of slash.
(Slashy slash! Porny porn!)
...and I promise I will NEVER WRITE ANY EVER AGAIN!!!!
Hiiiiigh Five!
Title: John and Jeff Make SexyTime.
John Frusciante is a hottie.
So is Jeff Buckley.
Unfortunately, Jeff Buckley is dead.
But it’s okay.
Cause this is gay porn and it don’t matter.
Hokay So. Here’s how it works…
John’s jamming away on his hotass guitar, obviously a phallic symbol. Jeff’s being emo and writing in his notebook under a table. John looks over and is like, dude, tables turn me on. Jeff looks up and is like, dude, phallic symbols turn me on. John and Jeff look at each other and realize, dude, we turn each other on.
What happened next is too hot for words.
All that remained were the upturned table, the lazy drone of feedback from John’s Marshall amp, the scraps of paper fluttering with Jeff’s ethereal words, and the smoldering smell of HOT MAN SEX!
THE END!
A year later, I still do not know.
But I'm learning!
So here's the latest inspiration: my roommate writes gay porn and posts it and lots of people comment so I decided I should too. Because that's what my roommate does. And she's pretty cool. And I wanted to be cool too.
This piece is dedicated to you three, for introducing me to the lovely world of slash.
(Slashy slash! Porny porn!)
...and I promise I will NEVER WRITE ANY EVER AGAIN!!!!
Hiiiiigh Five!
Title: John and Jeff Make SexyTime.
John Frusciante is a hottie.
So is Jeff Buckley.
Unfortunately, Jeff Buckley is dead.
But it’s okay.
Cause this is gay porn and it don’t matter.
Hokay So. Here’s how it works…
John’s jamming away on his hotass guitar, obviously a phallic symbol. Jeff’s being emo and writing in his notebook under a table. John looks over and is like, dude, tables turn me on. Jeff looks up and is like, dude, phallic symbols turn me on. John and Jeff look at each other and realize, dude, we turn each other on.
What happened next is too hot for words.
All that remained were the upturned table, the lazy drone of feedback from John’s Marshall amp, the scraps of paper fluttering with Jeff’s ethereal words, and the smoldering smell of HOT MAN SEX!
THE END!