NAOMI HAWKINS For Brian !

🪐 — NAOMI HAWKINS  for  brian !

         Right. Naomi clinked her whisky glass against his in agreement. Sometimes it didn’t matter about the taste, only that its price to alcohol content ratio was favourable to getting her drunk and suitably drowning out all of the problems of the day. And, in a rundown, dingy bar like this one, the pounding of the music from the live band helped with that too. It was loud and angry and gave her something to focus on that wasn’t her own thoughts — at least, until the cheap whisky started to kick in. “ Have you not tried putting up posters for open auditions or something? ” She pulled away a little to turn and look at him, a lazy grin slowly spreading across her face. “ You know, thanks to Viv I can sing a mean showtune. Probably not the vibe you’re going for, but I’ll have you know it takes a certain kinda person to belt out Cabaret in front of all her theatre friends and sound good doing it. ”

    HE’S BARELY LISTENING,  at least not until naomi tugs out from underneath his arm  &  he fixes her with an affronted look. the truth was that giovanni made all the big decisions for the band, not him. &  brian didn’t really care as long as he got to be there on stage, a little above everyone else, all the people in the crowd gazing adoringly up at him.  ❝ showtunes, huh ?  yeah, i definitely don’t think that’s our sound, dollface, ❞  he replies, his shoulders shaking with laughter.  &  yet, though it’s kind of a funny thought, he can also sorta see it :  him  &  gio wih their instruments, flanking not another rocker dude like them but naomi, all dolled up  &  singing to the crowd. ❝ but... if you think you could rock it, you know, give yourself a whole punk makeover  &  learn some of our songs, then maybe we’d let you give it a shot on stage with us sometime. ❞  it really wasn’t up to him in the end, but the more he thought about it, the more the idea of adding naomi to their lineup was kind of intriguing.  &  brian leans his head down  &  cocks it to one side, matching her grin almost like he’s posing some kind of challenge.  ❝ having a babe like you up front would definitely keep the bar drunks interested in the show, if nothing else. ❞

the emerald ring that izzy always wears around the cravat at his throat was a family heirloom that belonged to his mother.  miriam was a kind  &  compassionate seamstress who married richard hands shortly after moving to london from her ancestral home near modern-day gaza.  as a child, izzy loved his mother very much  —  she is the only person who has ever touched him gently.  when she died of pneumonia when he was twelve years old, izzy kept her ring for himself.  for awhile, he wore it on his finger.  when he joined the navy he kept it safely hidden in his inside pocket.  only after he joined edward’s crew did he begin to wear it at his throat, always visible  &  yet holding his defensive outfit tightly closed.

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BRENDAN FRASER Airheads, 1994

- Andrea Dworkin, Letters from a War Zone.

🪐 — JAMES BARNES​  for  birdie !

he  has  pushed  back  splintered  bones ,   has  hidden  them  at  the  base  of  his  spine  and  learnt  to  breathe  in  spite  of  the  locked  box  of  horrors .   she  brings  a  willingness  to  live  back  to  his  body ,   convinces  him  that  there  can  be  an  aftermath  where  he  fills  his  life  with  more  than  the  war.      ❛    we can look into that later.    ❜     the  tease  comes  without  pause ,    gentle  as  it  drips  down ;    he’s  been  planning  for  this ,   used  it  to  occupy  his  mind ,   keep  him  from  falling  deeper  into  the  regret .    keeping  busy  seems  quite  the  suggestion .        ❛  it’s a surprise. but we can walk there, that’s the only clue.    ❜

   STEALING OR NOT,  birdie doesn’t mind either way. the laws that designated certain actions as criminal were so harsh  &  definitive  &  rarely left space for the context of a person’s entire lifetime. instead, they divided the world into rigid boxes to designate humans as either good or bad. but in her experience, life was far more messy than all that, the reality of a person’s makeup more of a vast gradient than a neat checkbox. though if she had to choose only one side or the other, birdie was confident that james would be the good sort. even if he didn’t see it in himself, she’d always had a bit of a knack for finding the light where others could not.  ❝ walk there, hm ?  so mysterious. ❞  birdie is certain that she is safe if james is with her  —  safer than she is without him, even.  so there’s no hesitation as she tucks herself close to his side  &  links her arm through his. her hand curls around his arm  &  holds him gently, reveling in the sensation of his powerful muscle moving subtly beneath his sleeve. she doesn’t need to know where they’re going; she trusts him.  ❝ alright then. lead the way, mystery man. consider me all yours for the night. ❞