#Kaiakahinali'i|Eddie Brock

[brooklynislandgirl]

The morning is not just cool, it's unusually crisp for San Francisco. The dawning light is just beginning to creep above the horizon. And Eddie had come down to the hospital long before the sun's approach just for the privilege of getting to walk Beth home.

He stays curbside as they pace the sidewalk, hands stuffed in the front pocket of his hoodie as he cuts glances every so often in her direction. He's asked about her night… she's asked about his… and they both seem content to leave their answers on the dark hours brief and to the point. Both pleased to ask after things that might strike others as odd, perhaps intrusive, and yet somehow it just seems to come out naturally when she asks him if he ever wants kids, and how many he's thought about if so.

The question earns a wry chuckle from his Other, who knows well the answer is far more complicated than a single conversation can cover. For Eddie's part, he offers a listless shrug. "To be honest… it seems kinda like a pipe dream to me," he responds. "I mean, a bunch'uh stuff would have to happen, right? I'd have to get my life right. Put a roof over my head, food on the table. Find the future Mrs. Brock."

A small chuckle escapes him. "The cosmic tumblers don't really have a habit'uh all clickin' into place for a guy like me. But… if I ever got that far… I'd wanna have a boy. Just one. If only so I could raise him exactly the opposite way my old man raised me. I could give him what I never got."

His brow creases, and then he looks over to Beth. He can already feel the chagrin starting to pour from her at having nudged him towards some foul memories… but then again, when it came to his childhood, there weren't many bright ones. He decides to shift the tone.

"Hey, but listen. There's not a rush on it. I'm… I dunno, I'm not super seriously lookin' for a thing." Not entirely true, otherwise why would he seek to spend so much time with Beth? "Things didn't exactly end well with my last relationship, so I'm okay takin' my time to the next one." That much is true. He still struggles with his leftover feelings for Anne. Then he looks down at her and tilts his head, daring to put forth a probing inquiry.

"What about you? Do you got a need to be in a relationship, or is it more of a 'if it happens it happens' feeling?"

It's cold, cold, cold. A pallid darkness half due to a struggling sun and a thick blanket of fog rolling in from the bay. None of these things would induce her to take the long and winding sidewalks toward home, if Eddie hadn't been waiting for her outside. He's pulling out all the chivalric stops by posing himself between her and potential danger, which is terribly sweet, and she does her best not to shiver in her thick, knee-length cardigan. If he noticed, he'd try to offer up his hoodie, and he needs it as much if not more than she does. The little witch can't quite risk even a minor rote to even out the morning's temperature so when they get mid-way to their destination she'll suggest the second best choice; coffee and maybe breakfast. It will be nice to just sit for a few minutes. In the meantime, she keeps up with the conversation with only minimal struggles. She still has the assistive devices in her ears, more than half-hidden by the up-do she still unpinned. His explanation about wanting children breaks her heart both for him and for the tapestry of his life to this point that he fills in with broad strokes. She almost regrets the asking when she catches the thickness to his tone. Getting his life right is something she can help with, if she could find a way to offer without taking away his agency. She could buy a modest house with a yard, lease it to him permanently. The Mrs Brock bit is harder. Beth could only consider one woman good enough for him, and she's back home in New York. Jay tends to dislike her meddling when it comes to the lawyer's love life. Beth offers him one of those small closed-lip and otherworldly kind of smile. One that suggest she's got a foot in the real world and one somewhere else, near but unreachable by anyone else. "Dat's a wor'dy goal, for sure. Every keiki deserve to know dey are loved an' wanted. Protected, nurtured..." The list trails off. "An' sometimes, goddah fight da Cosmos because even if every star is fire, dey burn cold sometimes." Eddie is buffeted by that sudden melancholia, and she tries to express her sympathy and apology both at once with the way her eyes soften, the way one slim hand brushes his arm before retreating back into her pocket. She hadn't remembered to bring her gloves. "Neiddah did mine," she murmurs and is flooded with relief when he doesn't ask about what she means in saying that. Eddie doesn't need to know that it was one sided. That it existed only in her mind, and that it had ultimately changed the entire course of her life. No, instead he changes the subject, or at least the mood. At first, her whole face seems to wrinkle, from the flash of a frown to the knitting of her brows, the tiny flare of her nostrils. She's got to take a few seconds to work out what he's asking before the clouds lift and she relaxes, the tension she hadn't realised she'd dragged on fading from body and view. "I..." Well. Here she is, raw and bare-boned. "I've always been really close wi' my braddah an' my hanai-sistah. Whenevah I use t' go to social functions, dey were usually family affairs, or I'd have a Midshipman escortin' me. Sometimes I'd only meet dem ~sailor, dat is~ at da door of da function. Sometimes I went wi'd my mentor." She slows to a crawl and her hands reappear to rise up when she shrugs, splaying out in front of her. "I don'...I don' really...we talked small kine about dat before. Not really da dating type. Between da hours I work, an' da kine, don' really have time for it. Or desire. I...don' really see a relationship in my future, much less a weddin'. Besides, I'm a handful an' I'm not sure dat I could really see anyone wantin' to put up wi' dat kine." A sort of wistful sadness wraps itself around him, tight as a rash-guard. "So, uh, wha' you t'ink. Wanna try west-coast breakfast burrito, or have ya been to dis one place here dat actually makes a really good Brooklyn style bacon-egg-an'-cheese sandwich? I dunno 'bout you, but I'm kinda starvin'."

[brooklynislandgirl]

Z for Zoo (from Eddie)

Spell It Out || -

Her hair pools out against the pristine white pillows like ink more like Beloved's skin than she realises. Closer to her face tiny wisps of dark curls damp from the sweat created by the heat between them. She flashes Eddie a snarl and though there aren't as many teeth there as could be found in Beloved's smile, there are still many. They glitter needle sharp and white, white, white against the backdrop of her tongue. Pinned though her legs might be, doesn't stop her claws ~oh yes, they are also sharp, longer and wickedly curved as they only are when they find themselves entangled~ from deliberately raking down Eddie's broad back from shoulder to hip and leaving pink furrows behind. She isn't so far gone in the throes of passion that the swipe she takes leaves blood in its wake. Not yet, anyway. Maybe it was the distraction she was looking for. Maybe its that she wants to leave him marked so that anyone looking at him in a certain light knows that he belongs to her, and his Other is the only one she willingly will share with. A warning perhaps of the kind of damage she's capable of inflicting. Or it could be some other combination of all those things. Whatever the case, she manages to shift her hips against him, a slow and calculated amount of friction against his mounting hardness. She radiates slick heat, her pulse can be felt even in brief contact, what should have made it easy for Eddie to slide into her. But that doesn't happen. Her mouth brushes his collarbone. Teeth sink in into his flesh, crimson stains the corners of her mouth even with a greedy sort of gulp. Hands clasp at his hips and it's a lazy sort of death roll where she leverages all of her insignificant weight against him. Maybe later, he'll blame Beloved for giving her the assist. For now? Eddie's the one on his back, with Beth settled atop him. The way she angles herself, there's only brief contact between them, just a whisper of welcoming wet flesh at his most sensitive place. Daring him to pull her close, to seat himself to the hilt within her. One hand braces her against the bed. The other pins one wrist down and maybe this is how she makes them even. She continues to lick and lap at the bite she's given him. It will heal to nothingness in an hour maybe two. All the while her eyes are half lidded and there's a thrum of sound in the back of her throat. No one could be blamed for mistaking it as a purr. Yes, Beth absolutely has shark DNA in her make up, but sometimes, she's almost cat like in the need to hunt and feast on him.

[brooklynislandgirl]

★ Eddie

Little Every Day Blessings || Accepting

I like you // I love you // You’re one of my best friends // You’re like family // You are family // I dislike you // I hate you // I’d kill you if I got the chance // I want you to like me // I’m scared of you // I would adopt you // I’d date you // I’d sleep with you // I’d marry you // I’m worried about you // You confuse me // You’re annoying // I pity you // I respect you // I trust you // I feel protective of you // I’d invite you with me to parties // I’d lend you my money // I’d borrow your money // You’re good-looking // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // I’m upset with you // You’re nice // You’re mean // I’m envious of you // You’re smart // You’re stupid // I look up to you // I think you’re a better person than me // I think I’m a better person than you // I want to apologize to you // I wish I’d never met you // I never want to forget you // I want to get to know you better

[brooklynislandgirl]

@tangleweave {{part the first}} It doesn't matter whether she pays or not. Beth has the double-edged sword that she's never wanted for any material thing, never had fear of covering a bill, never has gone hungry because of scarcity, and even if she spent her entire trust fund in pursuit of charitable things, she still has a good paying job. What upsets her is when he calls himself a name and she frowns, looking up at him sharply. She know's he's trying to make a joke but she hates it when he does that. "Don't." Beth rarely ever poses something as a demand. But when she does, there's a lasting weight to it. "No talk about yaself li'dat. Is not dat I got a problem wi' houseless people, an' you know dat but it hurts me wen you put yaself down." Another semi-awkward pause before Eddie flashes him that smile of his. He prologues his gift with a touch of playfulness, with his intention behind it. Her eyes dart toward his hand, first taking in the shape and landscape of his fingers before they lock onto the shape in his palm. She recognises the haematite immediately, it being one of her favourite stones, and she knows its properties, too. The absorption of negative energy and toxic emotions. Promotion of clarity and focus. Grounding with the way it strengthens connections with the earth, and providing security. It is a symbol of protection. The shape is a different matter. He knows she loves the silent, swift predators. She isn't sure what he thinks of them, but Beth… Beth knows Teanoi, the great shark, the father of all Rokea, as a war totem. He offers his children courage and strength, endurance and his all-powerful bite. The ultimate hunter, vicious and unforgiving of those who invade His territory, Shark is primal, unchanged since His beginnings. Gaia made him perfect from the start, so he is immune to time. Shark is perhaps unique amongst the totems as he is the most fair. He gives His favour as He sees fit, and asks for nothing in return from her kin. From kinfolk and menahune who seek His patronage, all Shark asks is that they protect the seas that are His home, and destroy anyone or anything that threaten harm to the world's oceans. Of course she will think of Them when she sees it, when it lay warm against her skin. Her hand comes to rest against his, the pendant resting between them, and her fingertips graze his wrist. "I don' t'ink dere's any material kine you could attach to da heart an' wha' it wants, wha' it loves. It's enough t' know dat you are happy, an' healt'y, and dat I…" She demurely dips her head in place of the words he knows she can't say. Dere was nevah any race, any cut. Not f' me, Ekkie." She rises like a fragile wave and sweeps slowly forward, tilting her head at the last minute and capturing his lips in a sharp but sweet kiss.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Name: "Edward Charles Allan Brock. Most people call me Eddie. Most people don't even know I got two middle names. An' only one person in the whole universe calls me Ekkie. Takin' bets right now on who that could be."

Age: "I'm, uhm... somewhere north'uh thirty. Maybe pushin' forty. Maybe just the slightest shade over it. That's not too old, right...?"

Do you like to cuddle?: "When it's someone I care about, hell yes. We oughta be promotin' physical contact more, y'know? Keeps us connected."

Can we make-out?: "I'm pretty much always down for that. But it happens only when you're ready. Not a single second before, an' not an instant longer than you wanna."

A night in or dinner out?: "If I'm honest? I like a nice night in. It can be small, intimate, a 'just us' kinda deal, where we can make googly eyes at each other an' say whatever comes to mind, not gotta worry about what anyone else sees or hears. Also, 'dinner out' has sort of a specific connotation for... Us. Means gettin' dressed up, one way or another. ... Hang on, why're you grinnin' like that? What'd I say?"

Whip cream or chocolate syrup?: "Hey, don't get me wrong, whipped cream tastes good an' all, but--" "This is not even a question. It is a matter of life and death. You do not wish Me to starve, do you?" "Okay, chill out."

Chocolates and roses?: "Think we've already established it, but when there's a Klyntar around, it's a 'hell yeah' on the chocolate. An' as for roses, I mean... I'm not really so much for flowers most'uh the time, but I gotta say, I'm lookin' right at the rose for me."

What makes you a good Valentine?: "Guess we could consider the source. Taken my share'uh beatdowns. Got my whole life stomped into the ground, really, for actin' out how people in charge never wanted me to. Maybe some'uh the stuff I've done was wrong, but I really try to do the right thing, an' I'm never gonna stop tryin' to do right by the person that saved me."

Would you cook for me?: "Point me in the general direction'uh your kitchen an' you'll see what I can whip together."

Would you let me cook for you?: "Let's be real, here, babe, you wouldn't let you cook for me. S'okay. Nobody's perfect at everything."

Where would you take me on a date?: "Clarion Alley, over in the Mission district. Artwork's incredible. Not enough words in the dictionary to describe the feelings you get when you see it. An' then, some Smitten Ice Cream. Get you a scoop'uh cherry, with sprinkles on it."

Who’s paying?: "Well... technically, it'd be you, wouldn't it? You did kinda pick up a bum on a bench."

What did you get me for Valentine’s Day?: "Yeah... so... you probably got like a dozen'uh these stashed somewhere, but, y'know, you find this in black an' you think, 'Maybe she'll think'uh Us when she looks in the jewelry cabinet an' sees it...' " An extended hand opens, revealing a hematite pendant in a very familiar shape, strung upon a simple black cord.

"T'be honest, if I had all the money in the world, still feels like there's nothin' I could buy equal to the task'uh lettin' you know just how much you mean to me. I'm the happiest man in the world just to get to see you smile. I'm glad I made the cut."

Better Together || -

The quiz had been tagged to her on her Adventures of A Nurse Shark blog. She'd mulled it over for a few days. No one could blame her for ignoring it outright; Valentine's Day has always been antithetical to every belief she's ever had about love and joy and trying to show the people she cares about just how much she does. But Eddie sees it the day before and over her shoulder he reads the questions. A kiss to her temple precedes him pouring her a cup of coffee. He returns to the kitchen and is gone for a few minutes before returning to the breakfast nook. The day is too wet and chilly to enjoy breakfast on the terrace and will be for another month or two. He slings himself into the booth next to her and she watches as he assumes what she sometimes thinks of as Interview Face. And with almost perfect recall he launches into answering each of questions. She will always be impressed with his way with words, maybe even to the point of envy. She also really likes his full name. It rings with something traditional, something that speaks to a nostalgic romance novel, in which he could very much be a rake of the Ton. Only Elikapeka Ailine Alohaekaunei Kahanuola'Ilikea'wahine Riley doesn't exactly fit in with that daydream, so she'll stick with what they have here. Hearing himself say Ekkie makes her blush. "Is fine. Gonna be t'irty-five come June, so we're of an age. An' I happen f' like a slightly older man." She winks, hopes he takes that playfully. She nods when he talks about cuddling, he knows her well enough now that she doesn't feel the need to explain touch. The making out part though? A slight feeling of discomfort that she can't put her finger on. "Dat's very noble, an' I mean…believin' li'dat certainly got you a long way wi' me…but you know it's two way avenue, right? I…nevah mind, go on." Eddie is a master, too, of subject change without making it feel like something awful to guilt herself over. "I happen to enjoy you in a suit…an' when Beloved makes himself manifest. Bo'd are dey own kind of sexy. And I would nevah starve you, Beloved. But point taken. Whip cream and chocolate syrup." Her smile carries through on the chocolate follow-through, and Beth would be a liar if she said she didn't like the Ghirardelli toasted coconut dark chocolate bar, and the dark chocolate raspberry squares. Of all the places Beloved could have found Himself with Eddie? San Francisco is a good choice. The mood turns a little more sombre when he turns his gaze inward. She hates that all of that is true as far as she knows. Comparatively, Eddie's ups and downs are worse and wide-spread than her own, and she doesn't have a leg to stand on when it comes to complaints. She could argue with him until she's blue in the face that he is a good man, and his missteps aren't really indicative of his personal character. "Dis isn't…I don' evah wan you t' feel like…you owe me anyt'ing. Dat wha' we have is base on what you do for me…I dunno how t' explain. But if I evah make you feel like you owe me anyt'ing, jus' tell me." There's a momentary pause and she fills it internally of an inventory to see if she ever took him for granted, or made him feel like their relationship was conditional. The fear of doing so tightens her belly. Outwardly she fiddles with the rim of her coffee cup before taking a sip of it. Eddie cooks for her because he seems to enjoy it and she's adequately explained that she doesn't because she doesn't need to burn down the house, or poison Them. What she's never had to do was explain the why, though with her prescriptions in the medicine cabinet she doesn't think she would have to lay it all out. Something he confirms a breath later and she chuckles about it. The date though? "Sounds wonderful, an' really very t'oughtful. I'd love t' go out wi' you." {{part the second}}

[brooklynislandgirl]

"She's a 10, but that's only because the dial doesn't go any higher." (Eddie)

Wait For It....||

It's been over two months since Eddie has seen Beth. She's been there every day, but the light in her eyes was eclipsed by an imbalance that she has little control over. Overtures he's made in trying to offer her companionship, comfort, and nourishment through grilled cheese and even protein shakes to little avail. During those days she was wholly aware of his concern and the moment it became fear but there was little she could do to allay those worries. She's been living with this for twenty or so years now and she's well versed in the little signs that a low was coming. She managed to hide it for so long by renting a hotel suite under a multitude of shadow-names and using only cash so he didn't see any of the charges she would rack up; one of her greatest fears was for Eddie to see her when she was in the thick of an episode. But they've come to a point in their relationship that this isn't a feasible strategy. So Eddie got to see the listlessness that eventually teeters into testiness. The days and days of sleep broken up only by occasional trips to the restroom. By his willingness to more or less doing all the heavy lifting when it comes to getting her in and out of the tub. Of letting her cry or curl up into him. Yesterday had been better than most. She moved around the townhouse slowly but of her own accord. Managed to make it into the yard and sat beneath her Tree for a little while. Afterwards she gets out a struggle of an apology and he's quick to allay her qualms. When he suggests maybe getting her some coffee, she actually says she wouldn't mind going with him. Maybe getting a sandwich while they're out. It isn't much but she knows it's a small victory with him. They're sitting in the sunshine and Beth already knows. There are bags under her eyes and her tawny skin is a touch sallow. Her hair is freshly washed but not styled; it looks like a mess. She knows she's a mess…but he doesn't seem to care about it. She toys with the edge of her napkin, having taken a single bite of the sandwich, but she's managed to get half the vanilla soy latte down without trouble. The women the next table over are the nasty kind, casting glances their way and as they leave, they make sure Beth knows Eddie could do so much better. For a minute, she is absolutely certain Beloved would take the opportunity to snack on fresh meat but Eddie is a little quicker than even his Other. He leans over and addresses the tie-dye clad Uncle at the table on the other side and makes the comment he does. It earns him a mayfly laugh as she looks away because she doesn't really believe it. It has to be enough that Eddie does. She, too, addresses the Uncle. "An' he a ten…but…he's mine…which makes him bo'd a ten-t'ousand, an' my one an' only."

[brooklynislandgirl]

When it comes to the gifts that Eddie Brock possesses, clothing is little more than an affectation. Strictly speaking, he doesn't need it. For more time in his life than he's prepared to admit to most people, he went almost entirely without it; his Other did the heavy lifting for guarding his modesty. But there are some places, such as beaches -- no matter how secluded Beth assures him this one is -- where he finds it easier to conform to the societal expectation that certain bits be stowed from sight.

Not that it matters much. The look on Beth's face to be so close to Pacific waters is nearly as radiant as the overhead sun, with nary a cloud in the sky. There's no hope for him out here. Regardless of how much sunscreen she had helped him apply, he still feels like he's a cookie mid-bake. And his heart is melting into chocolate goo over that beaming smile of hers.

He really has no regrets about coming out here. Not at all. Not even when he'd faltered seventeen times in a row on the surfboard she'd loaned him and eaten -- not gulped, he would insist, but eaten -- seawater each and every time. Nor when he'd trailed his bedraggled behind back onto the beach and slumped ignominiously down on the hot sand beside her beach towel. She's aglow with the kiss of the sun, and those sunglasses are almost comically too large for her face, but damn if they don't complete the look. She is a picture of absolute adoration.

And then he risks ruining it by opening his mouth.

❝ I got sand in places sand should never be… ❞

In The Summertime || Accepting

She pulls her sunglasses low to watch Eddie over the top of their rims, wearing the smile of a woman so incredibly in love, because that is what she is. In love with the world right now, the familiar salt kiss of her Mother, the whisper of Her waves that doesn't carry any traffic or city noise. The Pacific stretches endlessly toward the horizon and if she had far enough vision she might catch a glimpse of her islands. She is in love with Helios and the heat shining down onto them, a change from San Francisco's mild temperatures and drizzle. But mostly, Beth is incredibly in love with Eddie Brock. For all that he is red despite the sunscreen, and wearing board shorts because Beloved might not enjoy the heat like she does, he is still beautiful. He's done everything she could possibly ask; from coming on this impromptu vacation, waking at sunrise for dawn patrol, practising his own prowess ~or lack thereof~ on a borrowed board; one of the largest ones in her quiver, because her smaller ones were not really a good fit for the big waves. She beams at him, and for once doesn't seem so self-conscious in this, her natural environment, her still drying hair gone fully native and framing her face. Her skin tawny and glistening in the afternoon light. She laughs crystalline and pure when he grumps at his travails, making it only worse for himself when he doesn't bother with the towel she'd brought for him. Taking her glasses off and setting them aside, atop of her book, she scoots closer to him, before leaning her head into the solid wall of his chest. The kisses pressed into his sandy skin are softly romantic, lacking teeth but no less passionate for all that she is feeling tender. "We could go back up f' da beach house, an' I could help you shower all of it down da drain. You could stretch out on da bed, an' I'll rub da stiffness out of your muscles, den you can take a nap while I make dinner." By dinner, she means making the chicken-pecan-cranberry salad that she recently learned how to make. There's no actual cooking involved, more simply mixing and toasting the sourdough bread they'd brought to the bed and breakfast she'd rented for said holiday out of the city. They are still within delivery range if he wanted something more substantial that didn't require Eddie to do the lion's share of cooking, but she seems intent on spoiling him. Her fingers flirt with his ribs, and she fixes him with a deliriously happy sidelong glance. "I even have a surprise...dere's a flourless dark chocolate an' raspberry torte for dessert."

[brooklynislandgirl]

[Within the context of BEddie-verse!]

👅-Would they rather give or receive oral sex?

👙-Favorite outfit in the bedroom?

💦-Best place for their partner to cum on/in?

Sin a little Sin || Accepting

The nature of their relationship grew slowly, like a flower in nature. Seeds were planted over early morning coffee, the roots establishing themselves in shy soil. New stalk burst through on the rooftop, growing leaves when he finally chose to accept her offer of a not-home-cooked meal. Of afternoons spent simply hanging out and talking. She nurtured him over X-box or PlayStation games, walks around the city, little things. She invited him to stay. On the couch, in the guest room, in her own...after playful pushes with her toes became cuddles...became all manner of other things. They'd shared their secrets, introduced each other to their demons, which in Eddie's case could be said quite literally, and Beth never shied away from his Other, whom she quickly came to call Beloved.A less secure man might even be jealous in regards to her clear adoration of his Klyntar. The first time they made love, it had been a hazy thing, both half asleep. Soft kisses pressed into the back of her neck as the rain poured outside of the windows wakened her to snuggle deeper into Eddie. Kisses turned to exploration and Eddie introduced her to certain intimacies she'd not imagined before. Since then, they've shared that and quite a few other experiences. Awakened desires, discoveries that some things are best left in cinema and literature, and while she is ever enthusiastic about new or trusted practices, she never really tells him how nervous she is to taste him, though coated in Beloved does tend to lessen that outright fear. Beth is well aware of her less than human habits and instincts, and she is terrified of losing control at some point. Of actually biting. Not even the idea of too quick, too hard but just closing her teeth in general. It hangs like a millstone from the neck of pleasure and sharing, and sometimes she is a little reticent about reciprocating. But she does absolutely unfurl herself for him, and it might be one of her favourite things to experience. ~*~

For the most part, if there is anything as difficult and uncomfortable for Beth as words, it is in fact, clothes. Eddie has come to experience certain aspects about life with her, such as...the second the door closes behind her, she starts stripping. First her shoes ~Doesn't want to track the Devil into her home, and she's not talking about the one from Hell's Kitchen~ and socks. Her cardigan or coat next. Then her scrubs in no fathomable pattern. By the time she reaches the bedroom all she has is her skin. Mainly a texture thing. She much prefers the feel of Eddie's old, worn in tee-shirts, or sometimes just his hoodie and whatever underpants or bikini bottoms happen to be grabbed from a drawer. The more exposed her skin the better. Which is sometimes at odds with the fact that Beth Riley is sometimes made out of ice. She prefers an almost eighty-degree, somewhat humid environment, like a hot house flower, though San Francisco is almost never that kind to her, even in deepest summer. When she flashes a bare leg while the rest of her hides behind the wall, she's clearly teasing Eddie. The leg disappears, and is replaced with an arm. That retracts too. There's an entire parody of a burlesque show he's treated to before she makes it to the end of the bed. Ruined only by the shark-patterned bikini she has on, though the top doesn't stay on long after she unpins her hair enough to provide herself some modesty. Under the covers, and she ditches the bottoms. All of her from scalp to toe flushes a faint pink when she glances at him and clears her throat. "Is...is it okay wi' you bo'd...." she begins with some hesitation, as she always does when making the request of Them. "...F'I can wear....Beloved? Jus' for a lil while? Try an' mahalo." ~*~

If asked, Beth would blame Eddie's stamina on his peak physical condition, his natural athleticism, his determination to give as good if not better than he gets, and maybe a little maniacal enthusiasm from Beloved Himself. Their Klyntar doesn't have much in the way of restraint except when such is needed to keep Beth and Eddie safe. They have had a long discussion over the word Pineapple. Even so, it hasn't come up yet, tonight. The bed dips slightly when Eddie ends up on his back, not an ordinary feat considering how little motion transfer there is to her mattress and how firmly she's been wrapped around him in every conceivable way just moments before. Her rasped breaths are punctuated with little satisfied vocalisations, not defined enough to be any particular type of sound. There's a thin layer of sweat but that's fine, laundry's being done tomorrow any way. She wants to know what's in Eddie's head. If he has thoughts, maybe she hasn't worn him completely out. But she knows his heart is as full as some other parts may be empty. Her own legs, her whole body in fact, feels boneless. She can taste him on her lips and in her throat still. She can feel the evidence of his completion still hot, sticky, and heavy inside of her, and for a moment... For a moment, she feels her heart spasm, before she brushes the errant thought away. Once she's caught her breath, once she doesn't feel incapable of movement because the entirety of her being is of the same amorphous nature as Beloved's, she keels toward him and rises up on one elbow. The flat of her palm comes to rest on his solar plexus. She gets as close as she can, and there's a hint of a smile laced through her whisper. "Hana hou."

[brooklynislandgirl]

@tangleweave​ asked:

Eddie plucks a French fry from the oversized sleeve and plunges it into his equally oversized chocolate mocha shake, chuckling as his gaze sweeps from Beth to the view they have of the Bay. A date? In broad daylight? Given their respective night lives, it's maybe the least crazy thing of all. The bench they share is far larger than they actually need; he's already seen her glancing toward his lap a couple of times and imagines she's probably gauging how much it would matter if she just poured herself into it.

All she really has to do is ask. And even then... she doesn't really have to. He knows he'd welcome her there with a smile no less broad than the one he wears now.

"All right, so, yeah, Mrs. Chen doesn't, like, try to sic me on bad guys or anythin' like that, but ever since that day? She definitely gets that look in her eye like... 'I could just call Eddie, They'd probably take care'uh this idiot.' Dunno what to make'uh that, 'cause she's never done it, actually I never gave her my number, but somehow I feel like she's got me on speed-dial."

He chuckles again, then looks back to Beth. God, she looks just perfect with that sprinkle-covered ice cream cone in hand and her heart in her eyes. "Okay, so, your turn. An' I wanna really know. What was it about Us... not me, not Him, but Us... that really caught you? Like, when you saw Us for the first time... an' when you see Us now? What..." He stops and chuckles again. "Feels like a dumb question. But, what do We make you feel like?"

{{ 🖤 }}

A Little Me, A Little You || Accepting

Lāʻau Make || Venom Lethal Protector || Venom au

He teases her sometimes, when she chooses to take a mental health day and tells him, with certain seriousness, that she's 'too rich f' work today'. Few and far between as they are ~she and Eddie have an inborn work ethic that makes it hard to justify being selfish~ this is the claim she made when one little wrist snaked out from beneath the covers and retrieved her phone. She texted her DON and her clinic in record time, then not caring what happened to the device, she'd moulded herself to his back. Nuzzled the channel of his spine, breathed him in. Muttered the phrase and as her hand slid around his hip with a mind of its own, she determined that he too had to call out. And here they are, looking out over the Bay, her Mother's currents strong today. The waves whisper softly and maybe the weather is too cool for ice-cream. She justifies braving the chill because she knows Eddie runs hot, hotter than normal and she guages the distance between them, wondering what it would take to breach the space. To pour herself into his lap and maybe squish herself inside of his hoodie so that she can steal some of that comforting warmth. She has enough manners waiting until he ~and through him, Beloved~ has a chance to finish eating. In the meanwhile, she listens with abject adoration written in her features and eyes swimming with all those feelings she never really talks about out loud, as he talks about his experiences with Mrs Chen, though for the life of her, she can't remember what the question was that she initially asked. Occasionally she licks at the melting ice-cream from her waffle-cone, a scoop of haupia flavoured with rainbow sprinkles ~she still thinks it weird that he sometimes calls them Jimmies, the way Andy used to, and she'd once teased that she has a more formal relationship, and they prefer her to call them James. After that, they became sprinkles again~ and while the gesture is sensual, it isn't intentional. That look of utter adoration freezes on her lips when she watches the question form on his lips and in a moment of rare and pure trust, she blinks fully. Even in sleep her eyes rarely close to the full extent, and she's always given the impression that she is missing a nictitating membrane. The blush that makes strides towards her cheeks starts somewhere around the neckline of her sundress. "I...uhm." Eddie is too familiar with that false start but is kind enough to know better than throw a flag on the play. She is far too sensitive to take it well especially when it comes to navigating the complex feelings she harbours, the ones as deep or deeper as her beloved sea and nearly as primordial. Eddie knows it took some time for her to connect with him, days of simply sitting beside him in silence, then a trickle of words. She was never afraid of how massively larger he is than her. She's never been afraid of him hurting her ~reasons that wouldn't become clear until the night they shared knowledge of his Klyntar and her ancestry and mana~ and when it comes to the melding of man and alien, their version of Standing Jaws, it's exactly her ancestry that touches everything. She'd never been afraid of Beloved, either. If anything He brought out the desire to nurture and protect Him for the rare and beautiful Creature He is. But together? She lets out a shiver of breath. "Clearly, by da time you told me about Him, I'd already fallen for you. An' in all of my life, I've nevah seen someone as beautiful as He is, all on His own. You, Beloved, are... da epitome of One who Became Two, t' me. I t'ink I was a little in awe of you, of Him. Lil bit like bein' kahuna an' seein' a miracle unfold before ya eyes." That might sound silly, considering her mana allows her to alter reality at whim according to the spheres she's talented in but it does not make her words untrue. "Dere is a poverty of words in da ones I know to truly describe you bo'd when ya Venom. It goes beyond desire or lust. It expands into somet'ing...holy f' me dat I feel profane in knowin' d'ough dat ya bo'd make my knees weak an' set my blood on fire. Makes me...makes me t'ink mebbe Grandmaddah intended dis ~two  of ya~ f' me. Make me feel... hanau Po'ele i ka po he wahine, first woman. Look wi' new created eyes on my intended mate." There's a dangerous confession in those words, more than just the L word, if he knew how to read between her lines, or if They could feel the echoing ache inside of her right now.  The desire for the ice cream in hand wanes to nothingness and she switches hands holding it to take up the recyclable cup that her water had come in. She drains the remains dry, then lifts the lid, to fit her cone inside. Maybe she'll finish it later. She sets the cup down at her feet, then draws her legs up onto the bench, leaning toward Eddie to a slight degree. That flush of her skin deepens and takes on a shade of not-quite-fear, but something similar. What she chooses to tell Them borders on blasphemous, a voluntary revealing of secrets long held by her kin. "Not only do you both resemble to Haole depictions of Kōjin, as dey call my Samebito family, but in Venom, I see so many of our sacred laws. You're respectful to membahs of ya tribe, an' dose who know you as deir Let'al Protector honour Ya in return. You care for da people most turn away from; ones dat struggle, ones dat have no kine t' give in return, ones who would be used, abused, discarded by almost anyone. You see dishonour as a mark of lower beings, an' ya even fight fair wi' ya mortal enemy; I know, you have bo'd share wi' me stories of you an' Spidah-Man. An' every day ya learn an' grow. You help protect da territory granted by Grandmaddah, wheddah ya know it or not. Five of da six rules right dere. I was never once afraid of You, even with Your teeth deep in my flesh and bone. "But even wi' out all of dat, dere is no one I trust more, an' I would like t' t'ink dat if da kine was different between us, if You'd have chosen someone else, dat we would still find some way to be part of each oddah lives." There it is, that little bit of doubt in her voice. The very fear that lives inside her that she will never, no matter how hard she tries, be good enough. The damage that began in her infancy at the hands of her father, reinforced by others who had abandoned her whether willing or not. It lives just as clearly in her eyes and trembles in her voice as her earlier affections. But before Eddie or Beloved can make some sort of gesture or comment to set her at ease, she surges forward. The way her knees edge around his hips and the way her arms wend around his shoulders are a perfect mimic of the night she and Eddie chased their first foray into passion, the same night that he introduced her to Beloved. But rather than chasing sharp kisses around the thickness of his neck, or along his shoulders, she tucks her head down so her forehead rests against Their steady heartbeat. "What was true first time I saw ya, is true now, an' will be as long as dere is brea'd in me. I belong t' ya bo'd. Jus' as you bo'd belong t' me."

~*~

attractiveness:

repulsive / hideous / ugly / not attractive / unappealing / not unattractive / meh / no preference / ok / mildly attractive / nice looking / cute / adorable / attractive / pleasant on the eyes / good looking / hot / sexy / beautiful / gorgeous / hot damn / would tap that / perfect / godlike / holy fuck there are no words.

personality:

grating / irritating / frustrating / boring / confusing at best / awkward / unreasonable / psychotic / disturbing / interesting / engaging / affectionate / aggressive / ambitious / anxious / artistic / bad tempered / bossy / charismatic / appealing / unappealing / creative / courageous / dependable / unreliable / unpredictable / predictable / devious / dim / extroverted / introverted / egotistical / gregarious / fabulous / impulsive / intelligent / sympathetic / talkative / up beat / peaceful / calming / badass / flexible.

how likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending / fuck no! / never / no way / not likely / not sure / indifferent / I’m asexual / maybe / probably / it depends / fairly likely / likely / yeah sure / yes / would tap that / hell yes / fuck yes! / wishing that could happen right now / as many times as possible / we are already having sex.

level of friendship:

never in a million years / worst of enemies / enemies / rivals / indifferent / neutral / acquaintance / friendly toward each other / casual friends / friends / good friends / best friends / fuck buddies / bosom buddies / practically the same person / would die for them / true friends / my only friend.

first impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

current impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

[brooklynislandgirl]

He offers a gentle caress of his knuckles against the line of Beth's jaw, shifting just beneath the curtain of her hair to tuck it behind her ear. Reluctantly his lips withdraw from hers, but follow the path of his touch, ghosting tenderness and whispers beneath the edge of her cheek and up to the shell of her earlobe.

"Tell Us, babe," Eddie murmurs. "Tell Us where you want Our touch the most... so We can make you feel nothin' but the same pure joy you give Us..."

( 24: Three spots that drive you insane )

Things That Make You Squirm || Accepting

One hand is lodged against the small of his back where Beloved's thick black ooze holds her close to him, inky fingers so to speak entwined with her own from where they extrude from Eddie's skin. The other strokes mindless designs from Eddie's collarbones down the midline of his chest then back. The same trail she'd only tens of minutes before she'd dragged her lips. In those previous moments he'd stopped her travel and brought her face back up to his where he then kissed her in tender savagery until she was breathless. Until her heart drums against her breast bone and thunders in her ears like her Mother's tides. When he pulls way and works his way toward one sensitive lobe, she makes a tiny sound of protest. Nails bite into muscle. But then he lays her low with those few words, the resonance of his tone not leaving any way to mistake them.

Evidence of his own desire twitches against her belly as she straightens up and leans into Eddie. A twist of her wrist and she draws Beloved's tendrils out from behind Eddie's broad back and carefully encourages them to wind around her throat. Not tight enough to prevent breath but she knows well what it feels like when He coils around that slender column then fluctuates the strength in His grasp. She's mentioned that it's as pleasurable as when He sinks His maw into her skin, biting as tenderly and sweetly as she bites back.

"Hold me here," she whispers in a nearly broken plea.

Her eyes become green sparkling glass as they roll upwards offering him nothing more than the whites as it pairs with a two tiered gasp. Her mouth curves toward a smile that doesn't fully blossom into one of her radiant smiles, though not from a lack of pleasure. It is diminished only in her concentration of extracting herself from Eddie's hold so she can recline on the pillows at her back, regal as any queen he could name. Her hands flow down her own skin from just below the stark edge of Beloved's contrast of midnight to her sand, over the clearly stiffened peaks of her modest bosom, and down to the lower slope of her belly where they become shaped like a heart or like a planchette, though Beth does have some deeply negative opinions of spirit boards. She makes landfall in the depths of his sky blue gaze without an ounce of her normal reserve for such things.

"Feelin' you here. From outside. From wi'in. Watchin' you rise an' fall like an empire, surrounded by all of me holdin' you tight. Some times so deep, it's a bittersweet ache. Feel ya strain eventually, fightin' agains' da inevitable and da way you surge even harder den." Some times she wishes she could be so brave, so bold enough to whisper against his shoulder, or against the flat dark as Beloved swallows up her vocalisations. Something he might not understand, something that might seem anathema all things known about her considered in that moment just before.

"But mos' importantly?" And she can see the keenness in his mien when she goes to impart the last secret. She knows it will be a disappointment to Them but that does not make it any less true. One hand comes away from skimming so dangerously low to the mid of her chest. Holding her palm as flat as can be, the rhythm of her heart beat can be seen as clearly as Beloved can sense it at her throat. "Here. Touch me here, every day. Live in dis part of me. No mattah how tight, or how deep. Nevah let it go. Dat is where your touch an' His bring me bes' joy."

[brooklynislandgirl]

"How many shots would it take for you to sleep with Eddie Brock?"

Pour me something tall and strong || Accepting @tangleweave, @morgansmornings {for reasons}

The truth is that ever since Eddie'd moved in with Beth, and spends a lot of his nights out with his Other protecting the streets of San Francisco that he's found a lot less time to drink, and an even smaller desire to do so. Even so, he never comments on the times when she comes home, not saying a word, barely taking time to kick off her shoes at the door and dropping her bag beside them before making a bee-line straight toward the wine chiller in the kitchen. He can tell by which of the reds inside that she selects what kind of a day or night she's had, twelve or more hours on the floor. The rare few times when she bypasses those and chooses instead one of the aged single malts or the vodka from the freezer, he knows that things have gone beyond pear shaped and she's in no mood to talk to anyone or anything because it's all she can do to keep things together. Those are the nights when he and Beloved carefully flank her from either side and approach with caution, black ooze-like tendrils enfolding her in bits while Eddie murmurs to her softly. Tonight is definitely not one of those nights. If it is anything, it's like the night they first made forays toward their current relationship. Eddie'd sipped his slow way through a lager and a half while she'd limited herself to a single glass of Amon Ra. Slow touches on one another's knees, fingers straying close to one another along the back of the couch had led to her explaining a kiss, and her sultry little whisper of mo'beddah, I show you. And show him she had. That kiss led to another, a third, to an uncountable amount. His hands scaled from her hips to her ribs, and flirted with the edge of her camisole. Eventually it landed elsewhere and her soft skin was pressed against his chest. There's no telling where the night might have gone had he not known that she would have to meet his Other just then, to make things right between them. She might have had a glass or two the first time they end up being with one another, the details of the evening prior to waking up in his arms are more than a little hazy but she sees no shame in it. Tonight, though, she'd not even had a chance to take a sip as they sat across from each other at the little bistro down the street. Between the appetizer and the salad, Eddie'd whispers little seductive tidbits in her ears. She'd watched his mouth and he'd made promises he intends to keep. She'd dropped two crisp hundreds on the table, not caring to wait for the bistro to run her credit card. She'd taken his hand and slipped out before anyone even noticed they were gone. He'd been careful to clutch her to him lest she slam into the door but they hadn't even gotten inside before they were all over each other. He closes the door with his foot, Beloved ensuring that it locks behind them. The stairs aren't so lucky when they crash down on them, her pulling Eddie down into a eager devouring kiss. ~*~ "Earth to Konachino," Jay murmurs as she snaps her fingers in front of Beth's face and waits to see the awareness return to her hanai-sister's face. "There you are. Was it a nice trip, and did you even hear what I asked you?" The blush on Beth's face confirms that she did, and that she's going to answer. "I mean, I could technically say one or two but...yeah, naw. Nevah need to, all he goddah do is look a' me li'dat an'..." "And that's the sound of Andy rolling in his grave. Good job, kid. Still gonna threaten him though, and slap him with an iron-clad prenup."

[brooklynislandgirl]

Do you know me? [Eddie]

In All My Reverie || Accepting  

What’s their full name?:

"For real? Edward Charles Allen Brock sounds like British royalty. Feel like dere should be 'lord' or 'Sir' in dat. Mebbe you could be one member of parliament." She laughs and this time she forgets to cover her mouth, but she dips her head and takes her straw between her teeth. Her cheeks hollow out a touch as she sips her coconut creme milkshake.

"Says the girl called Elikapeka Ailine Alohaekaunei Riley." A flash of his own grin, a quick wink, all while he's chewing on a French fry.

He waits. And isn't disappointed.

Around the straw her lips form an 'o'. She glances so slowly upward that he witnesses the rise of her gaze, their shape, hue, and lashes all combining to mimic several of the Disney princesses, all full of surprise clouded delight.

"H-how you even know dat?"

"It's my super power."

When’s their birthday?:

"Happy Birthday, Eddie."

She sets the three packages in front of him. The middle one is the new x-box he'd had his eye on, the slim one is a brand new XPS ultranook. 64gig ram, almost sixteen inch Infinityedge touch-screen, 4 terabyte storage. Work and play. The last though is large, it's oddly shaped, and very squishy. It's his own house-robe, thick and soft, black. She'd searched far and wide to find one that would fit his frame and his height, and eventually had to order it for him, custom.

Then, almost as if she'd forgotten, she gets one more. This one actually framed parchment, hand painted.

"I'm gonna tell ya righ' now, dat it was so hard t' do da calculations wi'out da exact time. But 28 March makes ya an Aries. Fire t' m' waddah."

Where were they born?

"Still t'ink dat's kind of crazy, ya know? You bein' born in San Francisco, me in Honolulu. Den we bot' end up in New York but nevah meet til we come heah, me for da firs' time, you comin' home."

He fakes a look of shock, hand flying to his chest. "What a crazy random happenstance!"

Her lips twitch. "You actually watch it!"

"Maybe."

What’s their favourite colour?

Anyone looking at Eddie's wardrobe and they might suspect his favourite colour is black. It would be an easy mistake to make. Black hides bloodstains pretty well; it's a rugged colour and a forgiving one. It's emblematic of his Other. But it isn't his favourite.

Eddie is a romantic and he'll say his favourite colour is her eyes, and while sweet, that is also not true. He's being sweet. He's reminding her that he finds her lovely without striking that chord that he knows upsets her.

No, Eddie's favourite colours are deep blue, that navy hue so close to midnight, and grey. Nebulously neutral, a middle road between light and dark. The symbolism isn't lost on her, but she has to admit, it makes one hell of a striking suit on him, and it brings out his own eyes.

What’s their favourite perfume/cologne?:

In a lot of ways Eddie is like Beth when it comes to things like perfume. A sharp sense of smell tends to make the world of perfume, cologne, and body spray a painful headache inducing nightmare. It isn't that he doesn't smell good. He's often smells clean: spam, hair gel and don't let him say he doesn't use product. Occasionally he'll go with a spritz of Sequoia Wood, a deep and sensual scent; woodsy and earthy. Something unisex that they could both wear but don't. Of course if you asked him, he'd say whatever essential oils she mixes together, while burying his face in her neck.

Do they like baths or showers best?:

When he's running late, Eddie will grab a shower and it always amazes her that he can be actually done in ten minutes or less, a feat that Beth has never once been able to replicate, even when she does everything exactly in the same order that he does.

That being said, there really isn't anything they like better after a long day than taking up residence in her bath and reconnecting. Sometimes they lounge at opposite ends and talk about everything that has happened while they were apart, or sometimes he holds her close, her back to his chest. He'll knead at her shoulders, and place soft kisses on the back of her neck.

If they aren't careful, the water gets very cold.

How do they sleep?:

She works three twelve hour shifts a week, then two tens at the clinic, and she's almost always on call as needed. It isn't uncommon for her not to even walk in through the door until after midnight, and finding herself leaving somewhere in the neighbourhood of six a.m. She's grateful that the bedrooms are upstairs so the door opening, taking her shoes off, leaving her various accoutrement in the foyer, in the living room, the kitchen, the stairs.

She's never surprised when she sees Eddie is asleep and sometimes she will watch him from the doorway. In the glow of her faery lights, his eyes are shut and the sorrow and the grief of the day, of his waking thoughts aren't so prominent; the lines across his brow, the ones that web around his eyes and mouth are smoothed away.

Typically she sees him lying on his side, arms and legs wrapped around a body pillow that for her is almost the length of her body but for him, seems so small. He also tends to sleep facing what has become her side, and sometimes has her pillow under his head. Occasionally she'll find him lying on his stomach with legs akimbo but that is mostly when one of his two jobs has taken the mick out of him and he falls asleep the second he lands.

This is all in contrast to the nights she gets to spend at home which often ends up being them doting on one another. Knowing how much strain those hours put on her feet, he'll carry her up to bed, and she's quick to scramble behind or on top of him to rub his back or gently scratch it in the places he can't reach. Or plays like he can't, Beloved notwithstanding. On all but the hottest nights, they end up curling around one another, trading off by position and circumstance who is the big spoon. And when the nights are that hot, he strips down to his boxers, or sometimes nothing at all, but they will still touch on small part of the other.

She wonders when he'll figure out that she can, actually, use a little mana to regulate the temperature.

Do they snore?:

The sounds he makes aren't what she would call a snore, if she's being generous. They are not due to a deviated septum or other structural mishap. He does occasionally mutter when his dreams are vivid, and wakes without recollection of them, at least that's what he tells her. More often it's subtle sub-vocalisations, that occasionally pepper his waking speech. It took Beth some time to differentiate Eddie's noises from his Other's, and only because of the tonal shift of their voices.

It's all strangely comforting in the dead of night.

{Yes, he does, a little.}

What’s their favourite flower?:

If you were to ask Eddie, he'd say he likes hot-house flowers best, and wouldn't mind if someone misunderstood those to be orchids, calla lilies, and the like. He will say there's something soothing about helping Beth tend to the indoor plants, or working out in the garden. He leaves to her attention the part she calls her world tree, and doesn't think about how she feeds it, though once or twice Beloved had called it a waste.

Beth also knows that Eddie is a closet romantic and she would say his favourite flowers are heritage roses. They are beautiful and they smell exactly the way a rose is supposed to, when one thinks of them.

But she also knows that hot-house flower he mentioned? Is herself.

Do they drive? If so how’s their drivers license picture?:

Eddie's been driving long before he was legally allowed to do so, though she still won't let him get behind Sally's wheel. And that's okay, he prefers to drive his bike anyway. He says it's mobility, it's speed, it's a lot of things that means he won't be stuck in traffic like she is sometimes.

And his license photo is a crime. No one has the right to look good, although she can see the differences. Clean shaven, longer hair, his bone structure comes through more softly, and he looks younger, more carefree. Taken four years ago, he wasn't smiling but there is curve to his lips. He still has another four years to go before he has to renew it. She wonders if he'll look any happier, if he'll be ridiculously handsome when he does.

Do they like reading?

If so guess how many books they have: As much as Eddie is a writer, so too is he a reader. He carries around twenty or more books in e-format and audio format on his phone but deep down Beth knows that he prefers the feel of pages beneath his fingers.

Or maybe it's...

"Ready for me t' turn, babe?"

She holds up a finger on one hand, then follows the last words on the page with the index nail of the other. His arms are around her, holding up the book. She doesn't really need to wait, she knows the book backwards and forwards, can recite entire chapters in her sleep. She gets to the end of the page and tucks herself  against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Yeah, okay."

He smiles dotingly and turns the page.

"It was much worse than the scream of the wild dog. In the first place, the dial for the wild dog had only been set at six, whereas this was more than triple that. And so, naturally enough, it was more than three times as long. And more than three times as loud. But none of this really was why it was worse.

"It was the scream from a human throat that made the difference.

"In her chamber, Buttercup heard it, and it frightened her, but she had not the least idea what it was."

Public or state school?

As Eddie talks about the trials and travails of school, she can see she didn't miss much between Catholic school rather than a Kamehameha school, and skipping grades like she was trying to make it through an Indiana Jones film. The social interaction is what blows her mind the most. How he an Anne had made friends and how that lasted years. How he found himself mixed into a cauldron of different backgrounds and so many other little details all sounds like a faery tale to her.

"Dat must have been...terrifying."

Her fingertips alight on his wrist with all the weight of a feather.

His brows draw together and his head tilts, clearly questioning her interpretation.

Did they attend university? If so which one and what is their degree?:

The lights of the city down below illuminate his face as he chooses to move on and they reach his later years.

"Empire State University? Really? Wow!" She can't keep how impressed she is out of her voice, or from her face. It isn't that she doesn't think he's smart enough for a private Ivy League school, but to earn a full scholarship is no small feat. She knows how hard she herself had to work, what sacrifices she made to earn her place in that august body of schools. Former students were titans of industry or world changing scientists, like Norman Osborne and Doctor Curt Connors.

"If not f' Columbia, dat's probably where I would have gone, too."

"What kept us apart?" He grins, and brushes his thumb over her wrist.

"ESU nevah had my future mentor." She is grateful that the shadow in which she sits doesn't let him see the colour in her face. "But dat's beside da point. How did'ja end up one Journalist major?"

Who’s the chef and who’s the taster?

She is poisoning us, Eddie! Shut up, don't ruin this for Us!

Beth looks up at him as he swallows the bite she's offered him. Her nose wrinkles, her brow furrows, and the grimace doesn't disappear from her lips when she quietly says, "It's bad, yeah?"

She knows it. And Eddie, even if he's falling in love with her, isn't about to lie to her face. "Uh, yeah, Babe, it's not good."

He doesn't even know what it is. "Tell you what. We'll order out tonight, and tomorrow, we'll go shoppin'. We'll cook it together, one of my mom's old recipes. A taste of home. How's that sound?"

Her lower lip trembles for a moment before she blooms into a smile. She nods before wending her arms around his waist. Forgetting she still has the spoon in hand. It's okay, he'll wash his hoodie later.

Do they like wine? If so Róse, red or white? Beer? Whiskey?:

Eddie doesn't criticise her for mixing her meds and her wine, but he does use the benchmark of how many glasses she consumes as to how her day has gone; likewise how quickly she seeks it out. Wine has never really been his addiction of choice, it tastes like the way it smells; like something bad happened to good fruit juice, and now it demands justice.

Of course, the occasional beer he enjoys ~cherry wheat, or a crisp lager~ earns the same reaction, where she is mock horrified as to what he's "done t' dat innocen' loaf of bread!"

He notices more and more though that he doesn't really need it. More importantly, he doesn't find himself wanting it. The kind of self-introspection that would explain it might be a little too long and brooding for him to want to touch on, but the fact is still there.

He also has to admit, if only to himself, if he's going to be drinking that twenty-plus year old whiskey of hers, he might prefer to do it from her lips.

Any favourite items of clothes?:

She sits on the edge of the bed, all but vibrating with anticipation. Her hands are pressed together palm to fingertip almost as if she were in prayer, and maybe she is.  Eddie pokes his head out from the bathroom door, and glances her way. Waves of nerves practically wash off him.

"Ready?"

She nods.

He steps into view. The three piece suit clearly tailored to his tall, broad frame is soft and charcoal grey, heavy linen rather than wool because she has allergies. The tie matches his eyes. The wingtip shoes gleam in the light.

Her eyes light up, her brows make a dash for her hairline, and she could look no happier. So he smiles, ruefully at first then more genuinely as she wolf-whistles at him. Truth be told? He'd much rather be in his worn jeans, a tee-shirt, a button-up or hoodie over the top, his comfortable boots.

But so rare is it that she asks for anything that he feels he should indulge her when she does. "Think I'll pass muster, then?"

She sweeps him with a sultry gaze. "Or we could f'get da awards ceremony all t'geddah an' ya can let me take each piece off...one by one."

Anything you like of theirs that makes you smile when they wear it?

"Beth? You seen my hoodie?" He is a cyclone, searching the closet, the laundry hampers, the drawers.

She looks up from her medical journal and lifts her glasses to nestle them in her hair. "No, sorry. Mebbe look...uhm...oh, oh no. Mebbe...mebbe it got mix in t' da dry clean? I t'ink I forgot f' check."

"Well, shit." He purses his lips and blows air into his cheeks. "Okay. I guess I just gotta go without it." He stops in front of her, wraps fingers around the back of her neck, and brushes a kiss at the top of her brow. "Uber's downstairs, see you in a couple days, babe."

"Be safe, be careful, miss you every minute ya gone."

"Same."

She waits until his plane has taken off before she goes into the bedroom and pulls the very same hoodie out of her pillowcase. She pulls it on over her head and lets it fall down around her knees before padding toward the rain-beaded window, pressing one hand on the glass, a thin and melancholy smile slashing her mouth.

His scent lingers, and she breathes it in, finding comfort from his absence. She'd much rather him standing there, though, wearing it.

What do they wear on holiday?

Even if the colours are neutral, Beth is still both amused and finds it endearing that Eddie chooses to wear an aloha shirt over a white tank top, and board shorts. Now, this is not exactly conducive to his first surf lessons, but it shows a willingness to sink into her culture, to try to be a local rather than a haole, and to appreciate Hawai'i through her.

She wanders over and puts a fruity umbrella drink in his hands. She steals a kiss before he can sip it, then offers one to Beloved who is enjoying the sun set. Then she unwraps her sarong and drops it onto the sand beside them. A tightening of her bikini strings, she unearths her short board.

"One las' run before we head in," she murmurs, then hoisting it, she takes off at a running pace before she launches herself into the sea.

What do they wear if they’re just around the house?

To the outside observer, the Brocks live in a madhouse. There is something almost cartoonish about that hideous orangey-brown bathrobe he loves ~the sole reason she doesn't burn it~ and pyjama bottoms, usually paired with a tee-shirt of some sort. Sometimes, during the hottest parts of the summer Beth is absolutely certain that he turns down the air conditioning so he can get away with boxers alone. Eddie, though, will accuse her right back, saying at least he wears *something*. In turn she will strategically wear leaves over some parts of her body. If she's being particularly naughty and trying to stir him to whatever passions he might have, she will "borrow" Beloved instead, and wear His "hands" in those same places.

During the winter, they will wear layers, including one another, and add a couple blankets on top. Eddie allows Beth to lounge on him though because his internal temperature blazes and he puts out plenty of warmth, sometimes to his own discomfort.

Who’s the holiday planner and who isn’t allowed to hold the passports?

Because of the nature of their jobs, Eddie is gone a lot more often than he'd like, on various assignments. Beth, too, has a strange schedule, sometimes practically living bicoastally. As it happens, therefore, most holidays are planned so that they can simultaneously be at home, together. Away from the outside world, doting on one another and reconnecting when and how they like.

Since they both travel so frequently, they are both incredibly responsible, so that plans are made jointly, and they have checklists and schedules to ensure that they have everything in order, less of a reason to draw attention to themselves. Eddie also triple checks to make sure Beth has enough medication in her system to endure planes.

Which type of phone do they have?:

This is where there divide between them shows most deeply. Eddie's currently on an iPhone 13 pro. Beth stands by the Galaxy S22 Ultra. Perhaps it's a little silly but there's a weirdness that one would choose fruit, the other an android.

What music do they like? Be specific if you know:

Eddie is a huge fan of post-grunge metal. Disturbed, Evanescence, Within Temptation, Nightwish, Linkin Park, as well as other genres and artists, not putting himself in a pigeon-hole.

She notices he almost prefers female vocalists to males, where she's the opposite, and he isn't the first Eddie she's fallen in love with. But he's the one she comes home too.

Even if she does ask him to turn the music down a little.

Any favourite movie/tv shows?:

Despite his Spanish being a little rusty, Eddie's guilty pleasure is telenovelas, mostly because of how outrageous they can be, and Beloved's running commentary or the questions He asks. He also knows more than he cares about medical dramas, forensic pathology shows, and ghost-hunting series, because the rare occasions that Beth wants to watch things, it's that sort of affair.

They tend to enjoy movies more, and now Eddie is sure he's seen Tombstone more times than years he's been alive. Beth tends to like old Hollywood films, and cartoons from Disney and Don Bluth.

Mostly though, they prefer to read, rather than watch. Regardless of the media, it gives them extra time to cuddle.

Do you see yourself being with them for a long time?

Beth has learned to fear the L word; it is a herald to having to say goodbye, losing what means the most to her. She is never convinced when it's said that the person saying it means it. She is afraid, in her heart of hearts, that she isn't even worthy of this pinnacle of emotions. She has also learned not to look toward the future. That any minute it could be snatched away in a million different circumstances that she, with all her gifts, is powerless to prevent. So she tends to live in the moment. To enjoy what she has because she never knows how long she'll have it.

But it doesn't escape Eddie's notice that more often of late, the harmless little doodles she writes on the edges of paper have become something altogether different. He has caught a glimpse of a few *Elizabeth Brock, MD* signatures, but oddly never "Beth".

He also has seen her close webpages with wedding dresses. Rings. At least one site where a person can upload pictures to get an idea what potential offspring might look like. The potential mother's face is never her own. She also never mentions these things to him.

His Other feels that hurt in Eddie, and reminds him, She's made her choice. She is only waiting for Us to make Ours.

Do you share a home? If not why not?

Beth can't remember exactly how long it took for Eddie to actually move in with her. She knows she wanted to make him an offer when she first realised he did not have a home of his own. Maybe not to share hers, but to help him find a modest apartment that could be his, safe, warm. She would have been glad to keep up the rent, to furnish it, just until he got back on his feet. She had a feeling that his pride would not have accepted it, not the way he would end an evening, especially before he realised she was one of those Rileys. She thinks she would have done irreparable harm if she'd gone through with it.

But the night he introduced her to Beloved, and she asked Them to stay? That had been a turning point. It wasn't so much that Eddie moved in with her, as it was that he just...didn't leave. Bit by bit, more of his things turned up. He became her reason for coming home.

From the floor, to the couch. From the couch to her bed. Eventually from her bed into her arms, they have nurtured their relationship the way one gardens, a little at a time.

A practice they continue every day.

What quirk do they have that you love?:

Beth loves when Eddie subconsciously brings attention to his lips. A finger raised to shush Beloved, or the neighbour's stray cat in the windows ~Beth's own cat is in New York with her hanai Uncle~ or even himself. When he slowly drags his thumbnail against the border of his lower lip when he's deep in thought, sometimes making little noises that aren't words or any other exhalations. The way he purses his lips in a playful pout, the way he sometimes runs his tongue over one or the other. The way he drags his mouth over her skin, now and again stopping where he can take a bit of her between them.

It isn't that she objectifies him in any way, it's just he seems so utterly unaware of it most of the time, and the pensive looks that accompany the little gestures, these quirks, put her in mind of gothic heroes the likes of which would have made Byron proud, and the duration of them gives her an insight into how deep or heavy whatever he's thinking about might be.

Okay, she has to laugh and shake her head. No, she does have a thing for Eddie's mouth, and the worst part about it? He knows she does.

Lastly what do you like watching them do?:

She loves watching him write, when he's consumed by a particular piece. His entire pattern is infused with a noble righteousness, a dedicated pursuit for truth and vindication that she can't quite put her finger on, but that she knows is his calling. That vibrancy in him isn't present when he's assigned puff pieces as he calls them.

Some part of her would argue that she enjoys his second job almost as much but that would be too glib. There's something primal, mentally stimulating watching Them tear someone or something part, but that is always accompanied by a fear of harm, to either Eddie himself ~which Beloved would never allow if He has a say in it~ or to Beloved, and Beth catches herself breathless at the thought.  She will admit, only to less than a handful of people, that she now understands the "I Need a Hero" song a lot better than she has before, though.

She finds comfort in watching him sleep. The solitary hours that she is awake and quiet, she can lie there, and imagine tracing his features, or curl up around him and listen to his heartbeat. Sometimes Beloved keeps her company, sometimes He rests too.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Waiting had never really been Eddie’s forte, and less so that of his Other. Nevertheless, it always seemed to be the way of things, that a special day would translate into a longer work day than normal. A need to check in at the clinic she privately funds. Resolving a restocking snafu at the new F.E.A.S.T. Center chapter in San Francisco.

There’s always something.

But, as his Other has spent the day reminding him, it’s provided Eddie with all manner of opportunity to indulge his perfectionism. To get every little detail right on the money. Not that there are many details… and that’s fine, because that means there are fewer to screw up. Why alexandrite instead of pearl? Pearl would have looked nice. But maybe out of place. Pearl and aquamarine? Would have made for a nice sea motif… or it could’ve been a shark-themed necklace, or…

No, no. This is not the perfectionism he’d had in mind to sate. These are just intrusive thoughts, now. And they’re not even his Other’s. They’re all his. Because he wants to get it right.

We are with her, Eddie. As long as this is true… We cannot get it wrong.

So says you, buddy.

And when at last she walks through the townhouse door, looking very much like a woman who could use a calm evening and maybe a scented bath and a massage… he approaches with perhaps the most awkward grin in his personal history of awkward grins.

“Hey, babe. Happy birthday.” He presses the gentlest of kisses to Beth’s forehead, then turns and gestures to the table, where the card – why in God’s name had he chosen a cartoonish card that depicts him and Spider-Man in the goofiest face-off ever? – and the meticulously wrapped jewelry box are placed, in front of a most decadent-looking chocolate cake, from one of Beth’s favorite shops… one of the first to which she’d ever introduced Eddie. And one he’s gone to ever since. A confection from a common connection.

Brother from another mother. His Other snickers beneath his skin.

“I figure you prob'ly been havin’ a long day… but I wanted to make somethin’ special outta what time we got tonight. If that’s all right.” ~*~

If she's honest, Beth had actually forgotten what day it was. She'd been up and showered and running out the door before he'd woken up. She did stop, go back, not even reaching the end of the drive before backing the car up so her nose isn't in the street, turning the engine off and trekking back up to the door. In those precious few minutes, he'd gotten up and was pouring himself a cup of coffee. She brushed a kiss across his cheek and jaw as he murmured "Mornin' babe."

She scooped up her work bag and was out the door again.

She's on the go the rest of the day.  She splits a shift at St Francis in the Tenderloin, then over at St Francis Acute which is nestled by Haight Ashbury and Golden Gate Park. Over her lunch break she runs to the bank to file some new paperwork. She does manage to to send Eddie a few texts, mostly a few hearts and other loving emojis. She only gets out two hours late and for that, she's grateful. There's days that Eddie only gets to see her for fifteen minutes through out the entire twenty four hours, especially when she has physical labs she has to attend rather than finishing up her coursework online. It really is wild just how supportive Eddie tends to be regardless of what the situation is, and he's so often willing to put plans and his own goals aside so she doesn't have to and that goes way beyond compromise.

Sometimes she feels guilty about it, wondering if somehow he feels he owes her considering the nature of their original friendship. If he sometimes thinks if he isn't a little more self-interested he's doing something wrong, if he owes her entirely too much. She's never told him about that fear, or how it hurts her on a level she can't even fully unpack, the idea that maybe he isn't always as happy as she is, or that he's afraid of upsetting her. She pushes that aside on the drive back.

She's planning on asking if he wants to order pizza or Chinese takeaway when she walks in and kicks her shoes off at the door, setting her bag down, but Eddie strikes first. His grin is a little lop-sided and it almost looks more like a nervous tic, but all the same, Beth is utterly enchanted by it. Her own is small but its bright despite its weariness.

"Hey---oh. Oh it is...huh." Beth is genuinely surprised as his lips graze her brow,  and then when he presents their dining table. Her face lights up and throws her arms around his waist, giving his middle the tightest squeeze she can manage. "You remember. Is it so bad I nevah did?"

She slowly lets him go and then makes her way over to the table. She picks up the card and giggles like a little girl. She traces the images with a fingertip enjoying very much the innocently childlike drawing of Venom, their combined form, and the little bits that she could see Eddie added with his heavy scrawl. Her heart catches when she flips it open and sees Venom standing side-by-side with Spidey. She hadn't realised how much she missed her friend until that moment, and she hoped that whatever he was doing, he was happy. That's really all she wished for those who were closest to her.

"Oh, Ekkie," she whispers as she reads the inscription and her gaze flutters up toward him, lashes damp and every aspect of her features shows an emotional softness. She sets the card down reverently down, before she picks up the box. And just as precisely as the box is wrapped, so is her unwrapping. It takes her almost five minutes to take the outer layer apart, anticipation growing. The box is the right size and shape to hold a ring. It shows itself to be a jewelry box. Her stomach tightens.

When she opens it, though, there's almost a sense of relief that rushes down her spine. It isn't that she would have been horrified if it was the other way, if the gorgeously inscribed necklace were instead a ring. She wouldn't have said no. She doesn't know why her shoulders relax. Why her smile grows and she pulls the curtain of her dark hair aside, and presents her slender neck to Eddie. "Would you help me pu' it on?"

As she waited for his help, she walks back to the last thing he'd said. "An' while ya right, an' it had been a day ann'a half, I'd love to order a pizza, an' curl up on da couch. Mebbe watch a film an' gorge ourself on chocolate cake til we go into sugah coma." 

[brooklynislandgirl]

"Look into my eyes..." [Eddie]

Eye of the Beholder || Accepting

I SEE:

Absolute Conviction  |  Aggression  |  Ambition  |  Anger  |  Anxiety  |  Apathy  |  Arrogance  |  Bloodthirst  |  Bravery  |  Compassion  |  Confidence  |  Conflict  | Courage  |  Darkness  |  Defeat |  Denial  |  Desire  |  Despair  |  Determination  |  Devotion  |  Disappointment  |  Distrust  |  Dominance  |  Emptiness  |  an Enemy  |  Enlightenment  |  Envy  |  Excitement  |  Exhaustion  |  Elitism  |  Experience  |  Fear  |  a Friend  |  a Future  |  Gentleness  |  Greed  |  Grief  |  Guilt  |  Honesty  |  Honor  |  Hope  |  Hostility  |  Ignorance  |  an Illness  |  Insecurity  |  Integrity  |  Intoxication  |  Kindness  |  Lies  |  Loneliness  |  Longing  |  Loss  |  a Lover  |  Loyalty  |  Malicious Intent  |  Mania  |  Melancholy  |  Misery  |  Negativity  |  Overcompensation  |  Pain  |  Paranoia  |  Passion  |  Perseverance  |  Pettiness  |  Pity  |  Positivity  |  Pressure  |  Pride  |  a Purpose  |  Racism  |  Regret  |  Resentment  |  Resignation  |  Resolve  |  Sadness  |  Self-Hatred  |  Sexism  |  Shattered Remains  |  a Shining Light  |  Something Familiar  |  Spite  |  Stress  |  Stupidity  |  Submission  |  Tranquility  |  Trauma  |  Trust  |  Vengeance  |  Warmth  |  Wisdom  |  Wrath  |  a Cry for Help  |  Something Eating Your Mind  |  the Years have Changed You

YOU’RE:

Animalistic  |  Approachable  |  Broken  |  Closed-Off  |  Cold  |  Crafty  |  Crazy  |  Defensive  |  Devious  |  Difficult  |  Disheartened  |  Emotionally Detached  |  Frightened  |  Frightening  |  Genuine  |  Guarded  |  Headstrong  |  Heartless  |  Human  |  Immature  |  Impatient  |  Inhuman  |  Insane  |  Intuitive  |  Lost  |  Mature  |  Noble  |  Patient  |  Pitiful  |  Primitive  |  Pure  |  Reliable  |  Remorseless  |  Reserved  |  Resourceful  |  Short-Tempered  |  Simplistic  |  Sly  |  Soft-Hearted  |  Struggling  |  a Threat  |  Trapped  |  a Troublemaker  |  Trusting  |  Understanding  |  Unique |   Unpredictable  |  Unwavering  |  a Victim  |  Wicked  |  Feeling Vindictive  |  Guilty of Something  |  Hiding Something  |  Lost in Thought  |  Planning Something  |  Scared of Me  |  Scaring Me  |  Someone I can Trust  |  Someone I Can’t Recognize Anymore  |  Someone to Fear  |  Someone Worthy of Respect  |  Weak to Manipulation  |  Weighed by Something

YOU:

Aren’t Being Yourself  |  Belittle Yourself  |  Don’t Want to Hurt Me  |  Don’t Want to Leave Me  |  Drown Yourself in Something  |  Feel Alone  |  Feel Empowered  |  Have a Plan that Involves Me  |  Have No One Else to Turn to  |  Have Nowhere Else to Go  |  Have Seen Some Things  |  Haven’t Been Sleeping  |  Lie to Yourself  |  Lost Faith/Trust in Me  |  Lost Something/Someone Important  |  Need Me/my Help  |  No Longer Believe Me  |  See Me as a Thing  |  See Me as Someone Else  |  Seek to Hurt/Harm  |  Seek to Manipulate  |  Think Highly of Yourself  |  Think I’m Hiding Something  |  Think Little of Yourself  |  Think You Know Best  |  Want to Hurt Me  |  Want to Protect Me  |  Want to Sleep with Me  |  Want to Use Me

[brooklynislandgirl]

@tangleweave  {{xx}}

Long, elegant fingers through the dark silk of her hair, paired with the subtle with the way his body ripples beneath her, these are acts of love, of affection given the circumstances. She could have waited for him to resurface from the mental mountaintop that he climbs when he works but the truth is that he's already spent weeks nurturing hard hitting interviews, meticulously sorting through his data, before finally beginning to parse out his prose without ego or opinion. The truth coaxed into pixelated life flowing from the realm of his biting insight and poetic soul. Maybe quietly Beth envies him the talent, both written and verbal, the ease with which Eddie can put his thoughts on paper. The connections he draws for himself and his readers, and the lack of fear to stand up to injustice. But in pursuing those ends, he sometimes loses himself.

And Beth tries to bring him back around, ground him to the here and now.

She isn't sure how she feels about the tentative laugh that rumbles through him. Her knees tighten slightly at his hips and once his fingers had run to the ends of her hair, she adjusted her lean upward in order to sink her hands into the ridges of muscle at his shoulders, where she slowly begins to knead and soothe them. She is so very familiar with his tone, has reacted to questions in like fashion. It's the same tone that takes up residence in every "I'm fine." or in every "no, really that's okay." Every single "Yes, sir." that she has ever uttered.

Men like Eddie's father, men like her own. Those were not the kind who deserved to have families, to have children who needed to be loved and protected and only learned how to fear. She can hear it in the way he qualifies what he wants to say, knowing that she wouldn't laugh at him over something he thought was special. Her hands work their way closer to his neck where they still and she allows her natural warmth and good will spill into him.

Mysteriously flying across the house, gotten accidentally broken. The same with her mother's dishes and portrait frames. She can only imagine what happened to Eddie's toys, because she couldn't see him doing the breaking. Not with the way his hands are always so gentle, the way he treats her as if she's made of porcelain or glass. But even in the midst of this confession he does manage to bring a smile he can't see to her face. She can imagine the frisbee. "Look like his shield, ah?"

It is largely a rhetorical question, because even if he said it was branded with Steve Rogers' face, she'd still envision it in concentric spirals of colour, star gleaming in the middle, nicked and maybe faded in places, wobbling a little makai side when thrown.

Eddie's muscle ripples when he shrugs but he doesn't dislodge her. If anything she tightens her grip. The image he paints in her minds eye is heartbreaking and she feels a pang deep in her chest when he trails off.

"I can imagine you all red cheek an' sweat darkenin' ya fair hair to dark gold. Runnin' round. Loud an' free, a wild kine. Beautiful den as ya are now. When was da las' time ya play wi' one? A frisbee. Mebbe...when ya finish ya article, we could plan a weekend a' da beach? Do up picnic lunch, bring a blanket. Build a bonfire an' watch sunset. Mebbe, if ya feelin' supah brave, we take a couple short boards, go out on da surf. An' of course, we can play frisbee, but our Oddah, He goddah promise not f' cheat.... ya got longah limbs dan I evah could."

[brooklynislandgirl]

[ DOWN ]  for sender to have chased down receiver and pulled them into a kiss right when it begins to rain. (Eddie)

Just Pour Some Tea for Two || -

Eddie Brock is an indulgent man.

Especially when it comes to Beth.

Especially when she climbs up into his lap while he's playing.

She does that thing where she koala-clings to his chest, cheek on his shoulder while his arms swaddle her, attaching where he holds the controller, and her knees rest against his hips. It's one of their most common and equally intimate ways of connecting with one another, neither one resenting nor disrupting the other's activities. But she doesn't have a book today and when he and his sole survivor ~currently named Nate~ along with stray pet Dogmeat, arrive at the shanty town dubbed Diamond City ~it used to be Fenway Park before the Great War and Eddie'd actually been there once for a baseball game~ Nate checks his pip-boy. Eddie in turn, checks in on her.

"Doin' okay there, babe?" Concern laces through his voice while beneath his skin his Other stirs just to the surface, not actually manifesting. They recognise the signs of her having one of what she calls her Quiet days.

Her answer is to nod against his shoulder and snuggle a little closer. He sets the controller down, and one broad palm presses to the narrow space between her shoulders, rubbing up and down along the channel of her spine while he nuzzles into her hair.

It's a waiting game really, and eventually she's comfortable enough to lift her head, pressing her face into the side of his neck. "...s' gonna be Beltane soon."

Living with a witch, one particularly tied to nature, you pick up things. He knows what the word means, it's one of her high holidays, sabbats she calls them. Well, she calls them sadbads, and he researched the rest.

It's understandable why she's a little shy.

Beltane honours Life. It represents the peak of Spring, is the herald of Summer and she says Gaia's energy is at its strongest and most active. Whether she means it as the earth or the Goddess, there's room for interpretation. She says all of life is bursting with potent fertility and when the Wheel of the Year turns, that potential becomes conceptive. He is very careful around those thoughts knowing how much she wants to be a mother, and all the reasons why she can't be one.

Those first two years she'd disappeared on him, leaving no clue, no trace as to where she'd gone. But when she returned there was always something a little different about her.

Today, she lets him in on her secret.

It almost hurts to hear her voice turn slow, contemplative as she lets go of her natural speech pattern to adopt a more Haole one.

"On May Eve da sexuality of life an' earth are at its peak. Maiden Goddess has reached her fullness, and she is da manifestation of growth an' renewal. Da May Queen, da May Bride. Da Young Oak King, as Jack-in-da Green, as Green Man, falls in love with her and wins her hand. Da union is consummated an' da May Queen becomes planted with his seed. Many of us... Verbena...pay homage to them by re-enacting da Greenwood Marriage....Supposed to be a time of sexuality. Sensuality. Passion, vitality, joy."

"Uh-huh..."

"I wanna celebrate with you this year," she continues, avoiding his gaze by pressing her lips to the pulse of his throat. "Go up da coast, da Olympic Peninsula."

Her kiss turns a little sharper as her teeth graze that tender spot. How could any man in his right mind turn down a request like that?

~*~

Which is exactly the kind of thinking that got him running through a dark forest, the threat of rain heavy in the air. She didn't actually give him stag horns or hooved legs, though the first couple days there she threatened him with it. Somewhere above the thick cloud cover the full moon is rising and she, too, is running fleet through the undergrowth, the mosses and grasses largely untouched.

This is a wild place where developers haven't had a chance to put their destructive hands on the virgin old growth trees. She says this land is sacred, and if he listened deeply enough, opened up his senses, he would be able to feel the spiritual welling of Gaia's blood here, Her Divine Mana.

Beth's laughter, in an oddly innocent joy, echoes through the trees. She calls out to him sweetly as ever, the truncation of his name into her native tongue woven with a tone intent on stirring his passions, promising delight if and when he finally catches her.

She uses her magick to cast a few minor illusions; a wisp of light here, the scent of her there. All in good fun because she wants the chase to last, and he has an advantage or three over her. His longer legs can cover more ground. He's paired with Beloved, who gives him superior senses.

She thinks Eddie is kind not to point out that she's the one who can shape-shift, who knows the land, can talk to it. That though they are both bare as the day they were born, she's the one armed with the knife. Of course she is. A symbol of her Tradition, Beth paid a heavy cost. She'd hung on the Tree for nine days, periodically bled so that she might quench the steel, bone harvested from her body that it might be ground up and mixed into the metal. It is as much a part of her as anything can be with the agony of sacrifice as its price.

Still, for as clever as Beth thinks she is, she makes a mistake. Or she does it on purpose. Whatever the truth, he finally catches up to her at the edge of wide, natural clearing.

She leans on one of the barrier trees ~Hawthorn, with its wicked thorns, she'd tell him if he asked~ hand pressed to her chest, dragging in ragged panting breaths. When their eyes meet, one slender brow rises and she breaks into a wide grin before she turns to run. The sprint doesn't wind him when he takes off after her and he catches her around her waist, hoisting her up in the air and spinning her before starting to lower her.

Whether he bends or she rises, the first drops of rain begin to fall on them as he lowers his head and captures her mouth in a surprisingly tender kiss.