#canaryavalon

[hereshecxmes]

@canaryavalon

“Hey, do you remember me? I’m the short blonde dancer from the Marquee.” Normally, that wasn’t a question she’d ask since there were plenty of backup dancers around, especially when bands were performing ‘round the Marquee, Flamingo, Birdcage, Club A Go Go, and Blue Moon. There were also many musicians and bands she met. Some recognized her right off the bat, while others needed a reminder every now and then. Either way, she decided it would be best to test things out after their performance, considering the blonde was in awe of the singer, Vita.

[citialiin]

          ☆ ESTABLISHED TRANSMISSION WITH : @canaryavalon

     ❝ I DIG your sound -- you could even consider me a fan --      but I think the vision part still needs a bit of work. ❞

     ❝ DO YOU ever think about supplementing your wardrobe ?       Adding a splash of some more color, perhaps. ❞

[lyricalrose]

        *:・ﾟ✧  / CONTINUED FROM HERE .      (  @canaryavalon  )

           “Yeah--” Still acting like the embarrassed dork he is, Axl almost forgets how to form a proper sentence when it comes to answering the woman, “yeah, it’s a very stressful career.” Chuckling, sounding sheepish. “But it’s worth it.” The singer quickly adds, almost forgetting that important part all because of some cheek kiss.  ‘ L O V E B I R D S ’ .  That’s when he’s covering his blushing face by tilting his head down and letting his locks hide his rosy cheeks for him, sipping more soda through the straw than he really desires. It’s a great distraction, so he’s doing it regardless. “Okay, you girls get home safe tonight.” he tells each of them, stepping back so they have room to get out. “I have a lot of upcoming free time, we’ll be there.” Axl confirms, shyly smiling. Wanting to run and hide when his cheek gets pinched, but of course he doesn’t. He has to stand here and take it like a man no matter how boyish all this blushing makes him look.

[croweswings-a]

00.  ⟡ STARTER !     INTERACTION : KASIAN + MARTIN.

       TO MARTIN, THERE  were  few  things  in  life  that  matched  the  pleasure  of  a  naughty  thrill  at  a  hotel  -  nothing  that  would  ruin  a  man’s  life,  but  something  that  would  stir  it  up  a  bit  in  the  moment.  it  could  be  smoothed  over  in  time.  people  got  over  those  things.

      these  thrills  included  stealing  key  cards  from  the  hotel  front  desk,  setting  off  bang-snaps  in  the  corridors,  or  in  some  extreme  cases,  rearranging  the  room’s  furniture  in  a  rather  inconvenient  way.  very  rarely  was  martin  joined  in  his  shenanigans  -  not  that  he  had  a  problem  with  that.  in  fact,  he  seemed  to  like  being  the  only  one  with  enough  gall  to  cause  trouble.  but,  on  the  off  chance  he  was  joined,  he  made  it  worthwhile.

      it  was  during  one  of  his  sessions  of  throwing  snappers  on  the  floor,  the  pop-pop-pop  staggered  and  unpredictable,  that  he  was  discovered  by  another  band  member  from  a  group  he  hadn’t  yet  met.  with  a  quick  glance  over  his  shoulder,  martin  held  out  a  hand  full  of  the  little  devils,  offering  it  to  the  man  approaching  his  vicinity.  he  grinned  wider  after  another  POP  !

      ❛❛  i’ve  only  got  about  ten  left  for  this  floor,  so  make  it  worth  your  time  before  we  get  chased  onto  the  next  floor.  ❜❜

@canaryavalon

[ourlittlejewel]

canaryavalon:

Canary Avalon had just finished recording their complete album titled “ Gypsum Afternoon. “ It was a long and arduous task, often staying late at the studio. Renting an apartment nearby, just so they could take turns getting some much needed sleep. The constant grind however was going to pay off big time, they had made a few hits on the record already. Or at least they were betting they would get some serious radio play, especially with John’s guitar solo’s attached. John was the last one in the studio, finalizing up some of the music with the sound mixer and the producer. Though in all honesty they had been shooting the shit for around 2 hours, putting in about 30 minutes worth of actual work. John rose from his seat, his gaunt and long body stretched some.

A big yawn, before he tilted his head and heard a crack. It sending that certain impulse down his spine. “ Yeah, I’ll be back. I’m just going to go and have a cigarette really quick guys. “ Leaving them and heading down the hallway and out the studio door. Yawning even more. Fuck. He thought mildly. Should have doubled up on the coffee earlier. He couldn’t wait for the band to take their small hiatus for a few weeks. He sure the fuck needed it. Forgetting his coat inside, the slightly chilled air hitting his arms as she shook them around like noodles some. “ Shit..” Huddling close to the brick wall for some warmth. Then the sound that traveled hit him.

“ The fuck ?  “

He said aloud, grabbing out a cigarette and placing it into his mouth. Though before he lit it, the man could feel his hips starting to sway some to the music. That familiar sound. Noticing the dance studio and peering in through the window to see a woman dancing. Lighting his cigarette then, inhaling and exhaling through his nostrils. After sometime watching, he’d seen her walking towards the door. Trying to put the cigarette out by snubbing it with his two fingers. “Ah shit ! shit ! “ The burning sensation. Dropping it onto the ground finally and stepping over it. A deep chuckle some. “ What ? I wasn’t watching you. I was watching the boombox. “ An obvious lie  if anyone ever painted one. “ I uh, I was working next door at the recording studio and decided to come out here for a break. Was that Madonna ? “ Feeling the warm air from inside the dance studio.

   . . . i was watching the boombox—he says. pffft !!!

could that even be considered a lie? what is that? that doesn’t even make any sense.

her expression remains flat, serious. here is where she sizes him up completely—large, bug-like eyes raking over his spindly form with a fine tooth comb. the built-in threat meter she has stored at the forefront of her brain drops at an alarming rate, the scale teetering and eventually landing on oh, he's just a little daft. down at his feet, a thin trail of smoke rises from the crushed cigarette butt and disperses into the night air, never to be seen again.

when he mentions madonna, she doesn't answer him. she’s not finished assessing the situation. heavy brows. bare arms. tired eyes. it’s freezing out. if he's trying to make small talk with her—if it's idle chit-chat he desires, she won't have him outside in the cold. he’ll get sick!

she widens the narrow gap she'd been peeking out of all suspicious, propping the door open with her leg. she’ll poke her head out into the alley in search for red flags: other signs of danger. no back up. the man’s clear. there’s a soft, barely audible sigh from our dancer. she tucks herself back inside the studio, but not before twisting a generous fistful of his t-shirt into a tiny hand and tugging him in with her.

bijou locks the door.

" . . . have you ever heard of the three-second glance? " trust me, stranger, she hasn't either. in fact, she's making it up on the spot, her voice all gentle and honeyed. she brings the pocket knife out from the secrecy of behind her and around to her front, folding the sharp blade back into its snug little slot. clack. a beat for her eyes to meet his. their gaze is held very briefly. just long enough to deliver her next line.

" three seconds is how long you should look at someone you don't know personally, "

and now she'll head for her duffel bag and settle into a squat, unzipping it and sliding the weapon into one of the mesh side compartments. she rifles through the mess, past the cds, turning over a pair of trousers. if you saw inside, you’d assume she was planning an overnight stay. when she finds the proper time to do so, she’ll surely organize it. surely.

" two seconds if it's during the night, " a glance cast over a toned shoulder, skin covered with a light sheen of sweat.

" one if you have a mustache like that. "

she'll finally crack a smile, tongue pressed behind the gap of her two front teeth. quite the bite for such a petite girl! but she's only teasing. her avant-garde fashion friends would consider him out of style by now, but she finds that thick ‘stache of his rather sweet. 

[voguecovcr]

cont. from x - @canaryavalon

Not too long ago, Pattie would have been mortified to picture herself in that situation.  Consuming illegal substances, in the company of a stranger, in a house she had never been before – the idea would have been surreal. But things were different now. That’s how life was for the young and independent. Much different from the confinement of her family home, far away from the watchful eyes of her stepfather and his disciplinary violence. It was easy to make friends with a joint in your purse. In every corner there would be wise and creative people willing to smoke with you, and discuss the past and the future, the cosmos, the need for peace and love and art. Pattie loved everything about it. The tranquility of it. The unique perspective she acquired of the world around her, the ability to fully absorb the beauty of the clouds in the sky and the leaves in the trees dancing in the wind. Perhaps her attention had been focused on the outside world for too long, because she missed the first words he’d spoken before turning her head and trying to make sense of the sentences. She was sitting over a kitchen counter, with a cup of coffee between her hands that her memory hadn’t registered. With her throat dry from the smoke, Pattie tried to drink it, only to distastefully find that the beverage had gone cold in her absent-mindedness. The chords he played on his guitar crossed her brain like a soft breeze before she understood his question. ‘Are you serious?’, Pattie asked, wide-eyed. Coincidentally, at the same time, a cat jumped in from the open window she’d been facing, attentively observing the humans. ‘Of course they do! Look. ’Climbing down from the counter, she approached the animal carefully. There was an unmistakable caution in the cat’s eyes, watching her at every step, but before she got too close, Pattie stopped and extended her arm slowly, the back of her hand facing the pet. Hesitantly, it smelled it, and after a few moments, she lightly scratched its ears. It was a beautiful feline. Its fur was a mix of black and white, the left eye was green and the right one was blue.   Eventually, the cat lay on its side, showing her his belly, which Pattie gently caressed, laughing as the pet twisted about in response. ‘See? You just have to speak their language.’

[damnedcrybaby]

Send me “☒” for my muse to give your muse a compliment ( these are worded weird ? I'm assuming Eli giving a compliment to her ? )

~that’s a very, very safe assumption and absolutely something that would happen so we’re ROLLIN WITH IT, BABE!~

He’s far too accustomed to waking up early, and though Elijah couldn’t care less about bein’ a bird going for a silly worm, he’s paralyzed in light of this other gift he’s found come sunlight creeping in through the window panes…

Vita’s still asleep. Right there. In front of him.Eli doesn’t dare even lift his head from the pillow alongside hers.

But his skills of observation have found an entirely new way to show themselves: noting the curve of her shoulder, near enough he could lay a kiss to the bared edge, mark the spot as his own- a show of his appreciation for it’s existence. But if he went and did that, what’s to stop him from leaving a trail of just the same on down her arm, until he can find the fingertips he’d swear had left permanent marks on him from the evening before? NOTHING, and oh, he’s not strong enough to show such restraint… better not to tempt himself, not while she’s so serene, able to rest as she is…

BUT HE IS ONLY A MAN! HOW DOES THE MORNING GLOW EXPECT HIM TO RESIST!?… does he dare? has he ever done anything more daring in his life?

Delicately, precisely, with all the proper attention that’d be doled out for the most fragile and expensive wares he can only imagine are hidden away, too special for man’s fumbling graces- Elijah gives in to the whispers of his own desires… in one swift shift: he’s pulled the blanket up over that shoulder, over that tempting arm, tucks her safely beneath cotton and down… and he DOES dare a kiss, but just briefly, to the soft bit of hidden skin behind her ear. 

Whispered: “You’re cute when you sleep,” she’s cute when she isn’t sleeping, too! cute when she’s singing, cute when she’s teasing at him, cute when she’s laughing about her band mates… And he could, of course, also tell her how she brings to mind the story of Aphrodite, but it’s probably too early for talk of Venus or Mount Olympus… 

And so, instead, Eli simply drapes an arm over her, pulls himself nearer in a subtle plea for attention, hopefully made up for by an additional kiss to her neck and an offering for his little goddess… “How do you like your coffee?”

[dhaniandtheheartbreakers]

@canaryavalon

During the emotionally unpredictable rehearsals for Concert For George, Dhani had stopped smoking. In fact, he’d never really smoked unless he was intensely stressed, but now he was, or he thought he was- in any case, he wanted a smoke. But since his dad’s death, for somewhat obvious reasons, he couldn’t quite bring himself around to it. The days rehearsing were long, sometimes uplifting and sometimes really dull and taking forever, waiting around in rooms backstage and swivelling on office chair type behaviour. But today hardly anyone was in, only Eric, and he was at a loose end. Wandering down the immaculate Kensington backstreets lined by towering red brick mansions, he worried his lip with his fingers and paid close attention to the wind flapping the fabric of his thin Indian linen tunic, flattening it against his chest until the breeze changed direction. He squinted, dark eyebrows knitting together as he reached the biggest, most ostentatious of the buildings, more like a castle really; the Royal College of Music.

Their recording studios were always available to hire and so lots of bands passed in and out, and he was hoping to find one of his school friends, Nicky, who was a guitar scholar here, to talk things over with. But after asking at reception in the main lobby, biting his lip, it turned out his mate was home for reading week. It was then that he noticed people coming down the carpeted stairs at the back of the room, carrying various gear. A band, no doubt about it, but with a female frontman by all appearances… which was an anomaly. Even these days. He found him his lips half twitching in a polite smile as he was glancing round to look at her, and as he caught her eye she smiled too. He turned back to the receptionist, deciding not to take up any more of her time. ‘Thanks. If you like, when he comes back you could maybe tell him I popped by.’ He smiled at her now, and turned to go.