I have started a new essay, I don't want to jinx it but it's about Axl. I have put aside The B52's for the time being. They are breaking my head open. In my research I have stumbled upon the holy grail of all discoveries.
Guns N Roses. Fanfiction. For the gay man!
It's times like these I kiss the earth. Screw u Plato and your distribution of the sensible. Fuck off flaubert, you can go marry your mute letter and drown in a pile of objects. True passion is that of the romantic. Here's a snippet, as curated by Jessica. Behold:
Axl went about his preparation of the hot chocolate as Slash sat down at the kitchen table. There was something about Axl's voice after all these years, hearing him laughing again, seeing him smile that made Slash relax and turn into a little kid again.
He was excited about his hot chocolate. Axl made the best hot chocolate in the world. His grandmother taught him how to make it and told him about all the special ingredients she would add to make it so magical. It was heavenly. Heavenly chocolate and Axl was the angel who made it.
Slash turned his head to steal a glimpse at Axl. More like a stare really. He couldn't help but stare at him. He really did look like an angel. Even now in the proper lights the singer's skin was still porcelain white. He glided about the kitchen so gracefully. Almost floating, like a spectre.
After a few minutes Axl sat down opposite Slash and handed him a mug of hot chocolate. Slash took a slow sip of the drink and closed his eyes, savouring the magic as the otherworldly taste slithered down through his body. After a few moments he opened his eyes and locked his gaze with Axl's sparkling green eyes, watching Slash from over his own mug.