baby's on fire !

[maxwelldemcn-blog]

This space used to be home, was once the fuckin’ center of so many lives. In and out, door swinging, bell chiming. This bed is where I made love, now it’s rotted with a tanned bird, slumbering her liquor away with dust on her bum. And I await that morning’s breakfast. A corpse with rooted hair pops his eyes open to sunrise, and the pang of regret is immediate. Fucking instantaneous, and I’ve gotten used to that being my first thought, when consciousness brings the cruel reality of day. Of life. A life without him. Stitched eyes are red with restlessness and exhaustion, crooking to their sides and spying the silhouette of my bedside reaper in white, dressing the curve of her bum. It waits. I can’t be assed if it’s fucking stale or not. Nobody does, when you’ve fallen in this deep a’hole. 

Dreary is the perpetual emptiness of this room, where thousand dollar linens now drape the furniture that once made it warm. Once a home. Mandy might have chosen the cherry wood and the telly, but Curt brought soul into these rooms. Stained a trail of whisky droplets in my floor, leading to the balcony. He seemed to be trapped on earth, at times. I’ve witnessed his longing to walk on the stars, right in those cosmically blue eyes. Balconies are the closest height he could achieve in hopes of reaching them, up there with the rest that shone brightly, and he’d chosen mine. My balcony. Where memories of both smiles and tears will haunt my morning view forever. 

I lived in comfort knowing that I was in the company of the brightest star. I truly did, though the pride of my lion couldn’t be boxed, and never deterred from it’s path to reach the top of the world. That place where legends die and are reborn, and a lover’s grip can’t remain when the other continues his selfish climb. Never looking back, yet never possessing the desire to go on, all at once. I used him. Became him, in my own neon-flavored, lipstick-kissed way, and forever boiled like the jealous tart I was, that his torture and pain had molded him into an icon. As for me, I had to create him. Maxwell Demon. And ye’might argue that many different paths lead to the idea of success, but I’ve never quite let go of that bitterness, as if the bloke had any control over how he was treated as a chap, to start with. Never deserved it, and I was happy to show him that I wasn’t like the others. Offered him the world, and grew to love him dearly-- yet for him, it was not enough. Not in the way he wished, where abandoning my dreams paled in comparison to the thought of losing him. And now I live in sinful regret, knowing I crushed the man I both idolize and love, by letting him get into that cab. In knowing that letting him go was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. To hell with the tour, to hell with Maxwell and his bastard of a manager, who shits dollar signs and sold his soul long ago to uphold that harsh persistence of his. We will all disappear. Right after this lovely toot, cradled on either side of a long spine, beneath the bronzed flesh of last night’s lover.

So the skeleton craws, and every muscle pops and crackles like I’ve awaken from rigor mortis, pinching my upper lip in a tight hiss from the pure agony of knowing I’ve lived another day. Another sunset and rise without Curt, my Michigan wolf, and the reminder that no matter who lies on his tired pillow each morning after a bender, the space might as well be empty. Closing tired eyes, I snort up the lot of it, feeling the numbness consume every, exhausting bit of sadness that my wildman so often occupies the corners of. He’s gone for now, but not truly. The telly draws the attention of sunken, yet alert features when I hear that raspy, impassioned voice wail his pain, calling out to the cocky side of me that snow-white’s high has provided-- and just in time. There’s something twisted and yet comforting, knowing that you share pain with the one you mourn the absence of, and there’s no question of it when those tour dates are listed. Legs suddenly twitch, like they mean to pull me from the bed from both nerves and excitement. From the promise of seeing him once again, yet not knowing if I’d even let myself be seen. Not like this. Not there. Maybe not ever. But that voice honors my pain, and cradles it closely, even beneath the blanket of filth and cocaine that wears me. The Danger Zone, tour. Danger, indeed. For you, my sweet little stranger.

[ottermaiden]

“I wish that’d been me. I wish I’d thought of that.”

Velvet Goldmine (1998)

[vyaghra]

Ewan McGregor: An Illustrated Story by David Bassom

[medea-superest]

[supremeputa]

[unfuck-it]

you fucked up

idk what you’re referring to but probably

[danismm]

McCalls 1970s Mens Pants

[maxwelldemcn-blog]

junkierocker:

curt could care less about the two cronies in the front seat . he already had formed his opinion about jerry , the so - called manager who spoke in a language curt didn’t understand . for someone who used so many words , it was strange how he really said  NOTHING . at least nothing that could be considered even close to resembling the english language , that’s for sure . eyes glazed over as he got lost in the mumbo - jumbo of big words . trying his best , but unable to comprehend exactly what was being offered to , or if anything was . but then came brian to translate it into english —— his SAVIOUR IN A TEAL SUIT . and it was in that moment that he realized that he could get along with brian sans jerry . after all , they were on the SAME PAGE in a world where everyone wanted a piece . which is why he angled himself towards now , wanting to get to know more about the demon who threw the world into a frenzy .

“   yeah ? well , i’ll keep that in mind .  ”     there it is again , the lopsided smile that can’t seem to hide away , one which causes eyes to avoid the other’s gaze momentarily as fingers drop to leather pants . he runs his palms gently over the fabric , FULLY AWAKE now despite the splitting headache that causes temples to throb heavily . but all that was able to be ignored whenever the man beside him spoke . why ? he didn’t know exactly . maybe it was the fact that he offered him as SECOND CHANCE where everyone else seemed to turn away from the junkie rock star . not like he could blame them , he never thought he’d last past thirty . guys like him died in their prime , it wouldn’t be anything new . even still , he couldn’t help but be excited . and the more he thought about it , the more he realized he didn’t want to FUCK IT UP  this time , or blow it before he even got a chance to cut another record . 

he pushes further into the plush leather of the seat , slumping down some as one leg drifts forward . finding comfort in the back seat despite the confined leg room , RELAXING the longer he shares his company with the other . but when those thin fingers trail over the stubble of a chin that had yet to be shaved , eyes to drift upwards to meet brians gaze . lips part ever - so - slightly before he inhales deeply , causing chest to rise beneath the green and red shirt worn beneath a leather jacket .     “   —— not if you know how to USE IT , anyway .  ”     a smirk formed before he glances past brian and out the window , shoulders lifting and falling with the ease of an indifferent shrug .     “   probably . but i’m not the kind of guy who SITS AROUND , you know ? i like to keep moving if i can .  ”  

When you’re abused like that, you know you’ve touched the stars. Mandy’s regard for Curt’s effortlessly brazen performance had gone over his head then, when his jealousy had outweighed his admiration for the rock star. He’s always given too much of a damn what people thought. Grew up without a single struggle that promised to build character, whereas Curt endured a cruel past and limitless hurdles with his mental health due to those barbaric treatments and a savage sibling. They say you cannot be a poet without the heartache, and in this case, Brian finally understood. With a bratty outlook, he was certain that both his looks and pretty-boy persona would carry his fame well and far outside of The Sombrero Room-- and how wrong he was. It would take much more than one performance in a violet frock to sway the flower generation. While he believed in himself, and was undeniably determined to become a face that everybody knew, the singer had to learn how to let harsh opinions fly over his head..and the only sure way to do that was to adopt pieces of Curt and Jack, and bring it into his own persona.

Squandering that precious emerald and assuming Curt’s mindset is what brought him here, under the watch of a greedy manager and beholding the eyes of the man he knew he loved, the moment he saw a slicken, sinewy frame sprinkled with glitter. He could have never met him then, not before he’d established his own career that matched the explosive quality of the New Yorker’s..--not before that jealousy dissolved, and birthed Maxwell Demon. That’s who the wolf knocks knees with now, a man that rose to fame only because he inspired him. “Y’ought to..” Keep that in mind, indeed. Remember it. That Brian is ready to accept you as you are, and suffocate that healing mind with support and  dress your body in jewels if you so wish. 

As that chin in held within a surprisingly delicate hand, a beating heart seems to still, letting go of a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding, until that rising chest of the other reminds him of it. A light snicker finds half-grinning lips, running the backs of his nails up his jaw, only to better feel that stubble snap lightly over his touch before it slowly retracts. “And I think you do, love..know how to use it.” The car will come to a stop shortly, overhearing the up-fronters exchange these sentiments while the car begins to slow. “As do I..-- can’t see the world if you’re lying still, then.” A sweet upturn of sensual lips proceeds a full stop, where just beyond the safety of the car, people swarm alongside the barricaded path that hotel security must keep watch on. With a look over his shoulder, he will absently drop a hand to find Curt’s, taking hold of it as the driver opens the door for them. “Like hungry hyenas, they are..” Looking back to gauge his stare that would undoubtedly be either one of annoyance or fear, he will provide a look that aims to comfort. “Your main man, you say..--they might as well learn it, too.” Sliding out, he’ll give his hand a tug, standing with modelesque poise and fanning winks and puckers at the crowd. Is it too improper to take his arm, then?

[lessfilmss]

“The world has changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history.”

Velvet Goldmine (1998)

[maxwelldemcn-blog]

ivoryandgcld:

they’re close now , and it’s in that moment that curt gets his first whiff of the demon standing before . smelling of a mixture of something sweet and cigarette smoke that’s almost as alluring as the bottle of METHADONE in his pocket .  gaze drifts down over high cheekbones to lips that form delicately around the end of the cigarette , completely transfixed by the image until blue hues flicker upwards and another laugh escapes his lips —— he likes the way that sounds . all too often , the feral man found himself teetering on the BRINKS OF HELL — the stars sounded much more SEDUCTIVE , he wanted to drink in all they had to offer . body pulls back  so he can take in the full sight of his new producer once more , a crooked - tooth smile still evident upon his lips .     “  we’re the way of the future , man .  ”

the intimate way of seating is initiated by curt , but within seconds is matched by brian . the ATTRACTION is there , that much is evident in the way curt angles himself towards , leather - cladden knees bumping against those of blue fabric whenever the car hits a particularly deep bump in the road . but while brians arm still rests on the back of the seat , curt’s shoulder leans against , body still TIRED from the bender the night before . that’s not to say he isn’t excited though , eyes bright and focused as gaze drifts between brian and the two men seated up front . but a mask retains composure , he knew better than to wear his heart on his sleeve anymore . he had no intentions of getting FUCKED - OVER again . 

but confusion is quick to take over . his short term memory had been WIPED CLEAN from the electroshock , leaving him with only the painful memories of the past . so he did what any smart - minded individual would do , he used substances to blur those out as well . which left curt in quite the predicament , barely remembering the now , and striving to wipe clean all those from his PREVIOUS LIFE . this , of course , left his brain in a puddle of mush . but on most occasions , he could search his brain ( like he was doing now ) and remember what had transpired —— it only took him a LITTLE LONGER than most people . and he shifts again , albeit uncomfortably this time . lips press into a thin line , only to support his body language , before eyes finds brian’s once more .     “  anyway , i’ve cleaned up a bit since then — got my act together , you know .  ” 

but just as he was about to let the memories of his past CONSUME him , it’s brian that pulls him back to reality quicker than any drug could . muscles loosen beneath the tight fabrics that covered his frame , brows lifting in amusement as another wide grin spreads across his lips before eyes roll and he shifts back slightly .     “  yeah , well . guess i’m more than just a PRETTY FACE .  ”     he gives the other a wink , thumb picking at the polish of his middle finger as eyes casually drift over him again .     “  you ever been here before ? new york , i mean .  ”

Hardly took more than a god damned second to have their knees knocking about, turned in like elder lovers that have experienced life beside one another. That love was born years ago for our brazen, young artist..and Curt cannot even begin to understand the depth of his amorous yearning. But he will. Will come to see those icy fixtures hold nothing but warmth for him, and the desire to know him more intimately than he’s ever allowed anyone else the leisure of. 

He thinks nothing of mentioning his wife for the moment, mindful that it could very well send him off running-- but that hope remains there that he won’t give a damn. Most don’t. Hell, either does Mandy, for that matter; their love is one of companionship-- supportive and open. He adores the girl, but there’s something to be said for that word, isn’t there? Love? Because who is to say that one can’t feel a different kind for multiple people? A magnetic pull that consumes. One that, when felt at it’s peak, could render Jerry and that driver fucking invisible? The world around them falls black and tired, while stars burst like fireworks in the air between these two, backseat poets.

His youth hadn’t been one so misguided as his elder, knowing this by word of mouth-- the tall tales of Michigan’s carnivore and his shock treatments, sprung tight by wicked guitars and licks of glitter. Brian’s beginnings were compromised of theatre, flamboyant figures in frocks and feathers. And playing a peeping tom backstage. His confusion, his searching, is innocently endearing, with Brian framing an attentive stare on the pondering, blue eyes of his beautiful prey. His cigarette is finally tossed out that window in one, fluid flick, feeling the tug of leather-shielded knees pull at the teal fabric of his trousers as they ride on, wishing for nothing more than privacy with him. “That you ‘ave.. We never lose that truly, do we? That primitive show of character.. Remains long after the drugs leave, darling. I’ll take you in any form you choose to show me.” Curt may have cleaned up his act, but that wild man still lives within a sinewy frame, just as a pompous showman always lives within our flashy Brit.

As those shoulders visibly relax in his view, he’ll offer a kitten smile, something sweeter than these full, vampiric features typically allow. “Much more, but it doesn’t hurt none to own one, does it?” A wink responds to his, as a hand reaches playfully for his chin, giving it a soft tilt up, as though he means to study it. “My first time. Much less reserved here...I’m approached without caution for fear I’d turnabout on heel..--I like it. The hands, reaching.. I see now why the Michigan wolf was drawn the coast. Will you miss it, after I’ve swept you away, then? London will croon like hummingbirds over a baby face.”

[maxwelldemcn-blog]

ivoryandgcld:

sure , curt had heard brian’s name once or twice before . a star born over night , he was someone to watch out for —— except curt didn’t . what good was it to him , a junkie rockstar who’d been booted from two labels , to worry about someone who hadn’t even come to america yet ? they were WORLDS APART as far as curt was concerned , at least that’s what he had thought until earlier this morning when he found himself within arms reach of the other . 

it’s something he finds hard to process , especially in his current state . but while he still doesn’t understand the urgency for brian and his manger to want him to SIGN HIS NAME on the dotted line so quickly , he isn’t going to complain about it either . after all , the clock was already ticking down to the day he’d finally find himself back in the studio . and mind was already beginning to brim with creativity , filling the newly - signed rocker with a unique form of adrenaline that no drug could ever match .

but it’s becoming difficult to mask the grin that is fighting to be seen at the corners of his lips . a small laugh pushes past the cigarette dangling from his lips , leaning in closer to the other as if hoping to keep the words private and just between the two of them .     “  OH YEAH ?  ”     pulling the cigarette from his lips , he taps the ashes to the pavement before the black - painted fingers of his free hand move up to push through unruly locks , voice lowering ever - so -slightly as blue hues shift over the other’s features  .     “  and where’s that ?  ”   

however , if there’s something curt can appreciate about the man he’s just beginning to know , it’s the realization that brian doesn’t seem to like to loiter around . too many times people wasted his time , leaving him with nothing than lost hours that could have been better spent writing music or GETTING HIGH —— maybe they’d get along better than he originally thought ! 

one last drag is taken as brian climbs into the car , watching the other CLOSELY as he inhales the toxic substance deep into his lungs before flicking the butt to the curb and twisting his boot upon . he’s quick to join him in the back seat , leather sliding against leather that lets out a small squeak beneath him as he closes the door beside . taken OFF GUARD by the comment , brow furrows as gaze drifts back towards , confused . glitter and fire … how many times had he lost his mind without keeping track ? but there was one concert he remembered in particular , one that he’d completely LOST CONTROL .     

“  —— you were there ?  ”     there’s a moment of disbelief before body shifts against the seat , angling himself towards the younger man who’s now captured his full attention .     “   look , if they’re going to yell during my opening set , i might as well give them something to REALLY fucking lose their minds over .  ”   

The urgency that he detects from these men aren’t entirely matched; Jerry longs to build their connection to overwhelming heights before the media, while Brian had quickly found himself incapable of living without Curt-- both personally and professionally. What he fails to see now is that the two will come to twine, brewing a challenging concoction that threatens to crumble them. That carefree spirit that wailed and stripped for his audience was not the same man he became acquainted with the other night, burned out and run down from black betty’s kiss. But now that those eyes are bright and anew with hope for a future, the Demon can’t help but desire to fulfill it.

A crooked, toothy grin inspires Brian, just the same; a hunch alone foretells the passion that would soon burst into fruition-- both in the studio, and in bed. A wry, knowing look overcomes naturally arrogant fixtures as the other leans into him, pulling a harsh inhale of smoke with a deep hollow of his cheeks, answering a yes with a flirtatious flick of his brows. That gaze reflects the ice of a glacier, and yet, it’s brimming warmth for the other lingers closely behind it, responding with cruelly inviting coquetry. “No where to go from here, but up. I wager that’s the stars, pet.” And with a curl that twitches that upper lip, our predator will take the lead, towards that car, where their cosmic dream will soon begin.

It is true, the young man hates to loiter about, both in public where he’ll be hounded, and in business where others use words like therefore and possibly --no time for a lag, when the Demon’s already earned the rights to his horns. He’ll keep you off the heroin darling, but he can’t promise expensive spirits and toot won’t be at your disposal. Brian keeps his cigarette handy, using it’s promise to animate and allure perfect lips to the other’s eye. They’ve already pulled from their parking spot when the first sign of confusion sweeps his company’s features, and he will look on with lidded, amused eyes as Curt seems to search for the memory. Assuming that he’s made a show of himself on plenty more occasions than that night, Brian decides to linger in smitten silence, playfully biting at the filter in his mouth once Curt’s shifted to face him. He wouldn’t dare mention his own performance, too bothered by the response to his music back then to even ignite the slightest sign of insecurity for Curt to see. Not now, maybe not ever.

“I was..” ----- “And right, you did. Fuckin’ gits, the lot of ‘em. I saw something brilliant there, beyond what they were willing to recognize. Still do.” The latter is expressed far more sensually than the rest, fixing his stare as the cigarette is inhaled from, angling his body in further now, as Curt had. “I never forgot what I saw that night, love..and that’s what brought us here today. My appreciation for your originality, your image. A man is his image.” ----- “That bum is nothin’ to slag about, either. A proper tart, you are.” Lighthearted, playful snickering follows, his likeness for the other completely exposed within the gaze that regards him.

[zoebennson-deactivated20190603]

You could be my main man.

[maxwelldemcn-blog]

ivoryandgcld:

senses were numb from the mixture of pills that had served as a hearty breakfast . woken up in a fancy hotel room that he didn’t remember ever booking , it took a moment before he finally realized that maybe he didn’t go home with another random stranger in the way he originally thought . a request for a meeting , now the promise of a SECOND CHANCE that had almost felt unreachable just a few days prior . but what he hated was the politics of it all , the business side that droned on and on . even now as he was trying to just take a break and smoke a fucking cigarette , the man in the striped suit continued on about needing to sign contracts RIGHT AWAY ! 

but attention is ELSEWHERE , gaze never leaving the glittery man who promised him whatever his heart desired . and as he reaches out to pluck a cigarette from the pack , calloused fingers brush over the almost - feminine smoothness of the others hand for a second time .     “  thanks .  ”     he mutters before placing the cigarette between his lips , leaning forward slightly as to ease the action in lighting it . only after a long drag from , does he finally give the other the ONCE - OVER , brows lifting in an amused curiosity before he glances over at the manager who seems like he could use a pill or two to calm himself down .       

“  remind me not to wander off with you then .  ”      eyes flicker back towards , tone playful as lips curl slightly at the corners , a small smirk threatening to give his true feelings away . while he understood the world of managers well , what he couldn’t stand was when they became OVERBEARING and started to involve themselves in the craft . if there was one thing curt desired above all else , that was the promise to always be able to exert his artistic freedoms and never have to deal with someone holding him back from doing so . which is why this deal with brian seemed to appealing to , surely he understood the beauty of letting an artist truly DEFINE THEMSELVES in their work . 

another drag is taken , a long pause lingering in the space between them as he ponders over the invite . while it was mainly due to the fact that he DIDN’T UNDERSTAND the question at first , mind still mush and trying to recover from the night before , he can’t help but selfishly enjoy the way the other seems to hang off his every word . but eventually , a nod of his head is given as he exhales the smoke into the air between them . and his free hand waves out in front of them both , an offering for brian to show him the way .     “  after you then .  ”

While the other, still unbeknownst to Brian, despised the business aspect of being an artist, we find our sassy crooner seeing it as a necessity. An artist can be just that, but without his management, there would be no guidance-- and lord knows that the singer needs to be kept in check. He creates press, all his own..--but who in their right mind wants to endure the tedious bookings? The appointments? His complete freedom is something he gave up long ago. Sold his soul to the other side, harnessing a spotlight and drowning in praise fit for fucking royalty. He’s never wanted anything else. 

Except now, laid bare under that once over, masking features wiith playful arrogance.

Mandy was the support he craved as an amateur, but in the end, nobody could ever live up to the iconic image that was Curt Wild; feral and effortless, he was both the envy of Brian and the apple of his eye, secretly tucked away in the corner of a brazen gaze that sought to find him again when fame hit. And those stars he longed to mirror the brilliance of soon aligned to both their benefits; already love sick and weak beneath leather and pinstripes, a single smirk sealed these fates. “Don’t go takin’ a piss at me before you know where I can take you.” The restraint of that smile he wears is a fucking burden, threatens to split his features into a giddy expression that’s hardly fit for this persona-- but it is the innocence in him, something that so few have been able to stoke. It’s brief on the surface, masked swiftly by the filter. 

A thoughtful pause mingles along the indecisive silence of his, faithful that he couldn’t say no to such a perfect face, proposing just the right question that needed to be asked.. Jerry looks on just beside the car, watching the magic flourish between the two; gears begin to turn, flash images of the pair alongside one another at events. Wants to market them like a couple of show dogs, we wager. As that arm is extended, the tip of his tongue coolly peeks out to lick the corner of his mouth, just over where the other’s exhale hit him dead on. “Right then..I’d be gutted, otherwise.” Climbs into that back seat, leaving Jerry to ride passenger beside their driver, a gust of that addictive scent blasting his senses as Curt climbs in after him. His stare is an invasive one, throwing an arm back behind Curt to rest upon the seat’s edge. “I remember you, lovedove..hollering at those wankers some years ago with your glitter and fire.” ---- “Brilliant, really.”

[maxwelldemcn-blog]

ivoryandgcld:

he’d just signed the deal of his fucking life , or at least that’s what the guy in the striped suit had offered him . what was his name again —— jeremy , jerry ? not like it fucking mattered , he just spoke GIBBERISH anyway . the main thing was , he was going to get back in the studio again after an extended breather between management . but to top it all off , the kid had promised him ANYTHING he needed , what a perk for barely knowing them ! generous , he thought , unlike his old fucking label who wouldn’t know true art if it hit them in the face ! it was safe to say he was grateful for the offer , even if he didn’t know how to properly express it at the time .

but as they’re all parting ways , it then curt realizes that he isn’t really sure where to go until then . they’d be in contact they said , so now it was a waiting game . but he was already so fucking ansty ! couldn’t they just get started tomorrow ? hands push into the pockets of his coat , feeling for something that he already knows isn’t there . an ANNOYED sigh leaves his lips before blue hues lift to see the younger of the pair walking out the door in front of him . and it’s in that moment he decides to REACH FOR HIM , grabbing his arm before he strays too far from .     “  hey , man . i know you asked if there was anything i needed so … you think i could bum a smoke ?  ”

starter call  /  @makeasplash​ !

_________________________________ A ghastly show it was, back in there. Jerry stood chuffed at the promise of more zeros in his bank account looking that that American man. A man who, years ago, partly shaped the way he stepped forward in his tallest heel to become who he is today. Thought himself numpty after that festival, walking off defeated, recessitated back into the present with that wolfen holler that sprung from a narrow boy with no care for who despised it. 

He’s already prepared to give his idol the world, and any any idiot could see the smitten sparks around that table, explosive in a heart eyed stare that kept him lingering there long after a goodbye. And how lucky is he, the famed puff in glitter and glory, to have shaken the hand of Wild when it was at it’s most vulnerable? When it was most in need? When it craved the clean slate most? His stomach flutters like a child in his presence, as it did when he first laid eyes on him, undoubtedly giving him the upper hand in many ways--- yet Curt cannot see it. We doubt he may ever, in fact.

As he departs, that farewell looks an awful lot like a come hither, twitching the smooth corner of a sensual mouth; the other may have been bred amongst the wolves, but it is the brightest star of them all that possesses the spirit of said predator in his stare. 

That hand stops him short, feeling a wash of relief in knowing blue eyes will be there on the turnaround, seizing Jerry in his impatient tracks as Brian gives him the time he’s been so dying to. “I’ll do you one better, mate..” A smooth timbre mimics a slither, removing the pack from his jacket and offering it out, hovering the filter close to his mouth. “The old man there is due to throw a wobbly soon if I wander off. Can’t have you going off on your own around here without a proper celebration, either...” Lighting the flame of the others, then his own, a cerulean stare begs, yet his question is lit with the confident air of a lion’s pride. “Come along, then?”

[klaushargreeveses]

Velvet Goldmine + a small selection of  the many outfits of Brian Slade.

[maxwelldemcn-blog]

tags.

[sciammas]

the world is changed ‘cause you’re made of ivory and gold. the curves of your lips rewrite history. velvet goldmine (1998)