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[brooklynislandgirl]

★ If you'd like! <3 For whichever verse you're feeling.

Little Every Day Blessings || Accepting The Major || Benjamin Tallmadge

I am quite fond of 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 accept your courtship // Marital Duties would not be horrid with you // I’d accept your pledged troth // I’m worried about you // You confound me, Sir! // You’re annoying // I pity grieve with you // I respect you // I trust you // I feel protective of you // I’d invite you with me to parties // I’d lend you The Cause my money // I’d borrow your money // You’re quite handsome // I’m suspicious of you // I’m hiding something from you // You’re fun // You’re boring // I’m upset with you // You’re chivalrous // 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

~*~

The School Teacher || Ben "Not A Serial Killer" Tallmadge

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 grieve with 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]

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]

🔥 + teeth

Jurassic Memes || -

Cloud-white sheets. The bedroom illuminated by hurricane oil-lamps, the fire far from the bed and contained by glass throwing flickering and monstrous shadows against the walls. Drips of dark ruby, copper and tannins and red fruit notes mix with a sweet vanilla and soft smoked chocolate, mingle in pools; the stains indecipherable from what is wine and what is blood. Her heart throbs to an unheard bass heavy song while her tawny limbs flow almost as fluidly as Beloved does over, around and through Eddie. His breath at her ear is hot. The things he whispers are scorching as he makes her promises of the things he's going to do with her, but his voice is sultry, it's low. It also carries the echo of Beloved's reverberation, things the Klyntar is going to do as the length of His tongue flickers over her thigh, as His teeth come so very close to the most delicate parts of her. Her hands can only make fists in the sheets, her toes can only curl into the mattress as she is inescapably held in place. Lucky, Lucky girl, to be with a pair like you. Eddie's fingers stroke her throat and feather their way downward. Her skin prickles with the anticipation of feeling ever single point of contact between the three of them but not quite able to view beyond her own chest. Eddie's every exhale sends a delicious shiver through her. In turn he waits for her to offer permission for Them to continue or They do as They please. His eyes blaze with a hunger growing in the crystalline gaze. They would devour her in an instant. She trembles from the intensity of it all, this ritual of Theirs. One that is often held in reserve for moments when They know she's stressed out of her mind, and sometimes when Beloved's cravings aren't fully satiated through hunting or chocolate; she's sure He can smell the heavy concentrations of phenethylamine swimming through her veins from simply being a person but also a build up from her anti-depressants. What makes it all a true delicacy is the oxytocin and the dopamine rush from both His bondmate and her. The alchemy of love and desire. But it's Beth that feels like They need to have her, or she is the one who will perish from starvation. There's a thickness in her throat as her lips part slowly and she gives them a single nod of shuddering consent. Eddie's lips on hers breath out a raw sort of energy, a mixture of his ha but also the softness of his pure affection for her. He prefers it when it's her teeth buried in him and the way she drinks him down, appeasing her own primordial nature. Without needing to be able to flitter through his mind Beth knows he hates the idea of hurting her in any meaningful way. He can eviscerate someone in his writing but there isn't really a blood-thirsty bone in his body. Beloved, though. His mouth is a thing of beautiful nightmare. There are more teeth than many of her cousins can boast. They are excruciating aciculate. Time seems to cease and takes with that expiration any sense that spans beyond her bed and her lovers. The previous anticipation shrieks like sirens in the back of her mind, every sensation amplified. Her body grows taut. Eddie smiles against her lips. Beloved's maw grazes her skin before slowly, steadily pressing down. Breaking skin. Prying her lips apart in a way few things can, but the moan that roils up her throat, and is delivered into Eddie's kiss is as her tongue presses into her own teeth ~far fewer without mana to change them, and far less sharp~ is not in any way born of agony. There is no edge of acutely unbearable torment, no scream even partially halted. It might be a function of how differently she is wired physically or mentally. It might be the thing that draws her to her Tradition, or a result of their practises. It could be as simple as deep down, Beth has always been somewhat of a masochist. Perhaps it is a melange of all those things. But the sound she emits is one of unspeakable pleasure, and it is. Every time, whether she is pierced by Beloved's fangs, or Eddie's. Maybe particularly when it's Them both .

[brooklynislandgirl]

💽 {playlist meme}

Notes in a Quiet Room || Accepting

I. Voodoo || Godsmack II. Beyond the Dark || Nox Arcana III. The Beast || Concrete Blonde IV. I Am Stretched On Your Grave || Kate Rusby V. Sweet Afton || Nickel Creek VI. Suspended in Dusk || Type O Negative VII. Bayu Bayushki Bayu || Traditional Russian Lullaby VIII. Rachmaninoff's Piano Concerto #2 in C Minor, Opus 18 || Yefim Bronfman IX. Mahler's Symphony #5 || Herbert Karajan X. The Doubtful Gift || Malkinira

[brooklynislandgirl]

19. is there a ship you used to dislike, but now you like?

A Little Turtle Talk || Accepting

I thought about this for a while now, and honestly, I can't say that I dislike ships on principle, because I'm a fandom ancient cryptid ancestor spirit and in the decades I've been in various fan groups I've always maintained the idea of not yucking anyone else's yum, even if it's not for me or something I'd bother with. I guess the closest thing I have to this was the whole Destiel thing until it became canon, and I mean, who am I to deny Cas? Or maybe the Hulk and Black Widow. Not because they can't be attracted, not because I am jealous, but because the MCU version of it made absolutely NO SENSE. Comic Books otp Bucky and Natasha. The MCU sure went out of its way to hint at Clint and Natasha, and I loved their dynamic. So her thing with Bruce Banner was totally out of left field for me and I just couldn't get behind how flat and forced it felt. Okay and then there's Brienne of Tarth and Jaime Lannister and she deserved so much better than she got, and that's an entire thing all of its own. I am sure I will have to amend this in the future once I go, "...Oh, yeah, this other thing over here."

{{Like...the Wyrm and...anything, really. Or me not really getting FrostIron or Stucky but y'all do you and I'll make the wedding cake.}}

[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]

[brooklynislandgirl]

Mikhail understands the blooms are delicate things. Quite unlike the traditional rose, robust beneath their velvet petals and stems which stand soldier-straight for nights upon end. No, these plump island stars have no interest in being adorned upon bouquets. Once plucked from the branch, slid behind the curve of a young woman’s ear, there is at best a rotation or few of the Earth before the edges begin to rot and the lustrous whites or sunset hues slip to brown.

 He requests the arrangements, regardless. Leaves it to viper-like professionals with transportation networks better than his. Payment to the one who presses a chilled box into his hands soon after night falls and ask no further questions. June creeps towards the full wrath of a New York summer and Mikhail shields the plumeria from those tendrils of warmth, ruthlessly attempting to tamper with Beth’s gift.

If granted free rein, every surface of Beth’s bedroom would be covered with the flowers. Misha would drown her in the lush scent in which he catches hints of gardenia or jasmine or the tang of a peach dripping with juice. But one box must be enough. Beth does prefer her greenery thriving in the ground. She will forgive him this trespass, that he knows. Anniversaries of birth are reason enough.

The book, at least, will last her a while. It has survived a couple of centuries, telling a long tale of thwarted love, even if the author themselves has drifted into oblivion among modern bibliophiles. Not quite the masterfully crafted syllabic beats of poetry Mikhail is prone to sharing with his beloved sprite. But as is the pardon he will need for the petals, anniversaries of birth are the time for sentimental indulges, whether in words, or the night-blooming flowers of Beth’s homeland. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Andy and Beth had enjoyed dinner out together. It had been a quiet, tasteful ~no pun intended~ affair, and not even the late appearance of the Admiral could sour things, though she was grateful when they finally left the restaurant. Even moreso when they arrive home without incident. Andy pours them both a drink and they talk for nearly half an hour before he kisses her brow and heads to bed. Unlike her, he has work in the morning. She leans into his arm briefly, and air kisses the space near it, bidding him a peaceful slumber.

She takes a little longer to finish her wine before padding to her room. On it's threshold her awareness bursts into scintillating light before dimming again. A lot like what she imagines a ruptured aneurysm to feel like, but she can't quite put her finger on it. She extends her perceptions outward, searching for any sign of life where none ought to be, and finds exactly nothing.

Not until she catches the faint whiff of home. The sea air in New York is different, not nearly as warm, inviting as what she is used to, and she has to cut through various other scents to take hold of the salt tang. But that is easy to do, what is much harder to replicate is the particular sweetness of lei flower. A bloom rarely found on the mainland, and even those are hothouse grown, or have a gardener like her tending to them. She takes a deep breath and exhales it slowly. Other things come to her then; something dusty, paper and old. Ink that is not modern. Leather. Something wholly mysterious she cannot describe even with the command of languages she knows. It makes her smile because she knows exactly who it is.

She turns her head over her shoulder. Under her breath she chants a song of life and dreams, a deep and restful lullabye, accompanied by hand gestures that are meaningless to most others. She weaves her enchantments around her brother, ensuring his sleep is deep, uninterruptible. For good measure, she adds another layer to it, switching it to a more warlike tone, a flick of her tongue and a gnashing of her teeth. She weaves together the lingering forces of the apartment. Sound and motion-proofing her spacious rooms. Then she steps in and closes the door behind her.

Her green-gold eyes take on an iridescent catlike sheen as she improves her vision, leaving the lights off and working only by the illumination of the neon and the moon vying for prominence beyond her windows. She saunters to where her gifts await her. And while it may have no meaning to him, specifically, Beth breathes in one of the luscious red-tinged plumeria before tucking it carefully behind her right ear. In the morning she will tend to them, keep them alive and fragrant for as long as she likes.

It is the book that next draws her attention, and she leans down to smell it, too. Fingertips itching to trace the words hand written onto the page, a rarity that maybe dates it before the invention of the Gutenberg press, but perhaps it is rather more a personal account sure to feed her imagination, nourish her spirit.

"Your taste...is exquisite," she says softly, a tone meant to grace his ear alone. "Will you show yaself, so I can t'ank you properly, my Mischa?"  

[brooklynislandgirl]

🎥

Pictures of You and Me || --

Mind and Body...they could have made anything of the future. If only they could stop running.