#Kaiakahinalii|Eddie Brock

[brooklynislandgirl]

A boy, a girl, and their symbiote...

@tangleweave​ {{xx}}

It’s quite alright that he laughs ~gently~ at her and not just because she loves the shy sound of it, that she feels she could wrap herself up inside of the sound and experience the same warm comfort as when he allows her to occasionally borrow one of his hoodies. There’s always a reluctance that comes with having to give it back even though she knows he needs it more than she ever will but that’s not really the point. There’s also the fact that she’d been trying to be funny after all and Eddie’s laugh held none of the nastiness she can sometimes hear in other people’s tones when they are trying to be mean right to her face as though she can’t understand what was going on around her. But in all the time she has known him, Eddie has never treated her so shabbily. He has been a gracious friend. Kind. Without the condescending feeling she gets sometimes in the social circles she haunts because she has to. Eddie is different in that he listens to her and to the things she never really says aloud. She doesn’t know exactly how he learned to do that, if it’s a skill he’s taken away from his past or if it’s a natural empathy baked into his very being. It’s entirely possible that it’s an organic blend of both, something she’ll think about later. When there’s time to breathe and reflect, which she does a little too often. Takes their moments together and strings them together into a mental photo album where she can chart the progress they have made from just this side of naked hostility to genial silence, from avidly engaging each other onto the rooftop to trying to coax him into her home like some feral creature that he isn’t, because she’s worried about how cold it gets and if he’s eaten a good meal. Because she wants to know he’s safe, that he has someone looking out for him. He deserves that much. And...now. She isn’t really sure what now is.

She’d never really had the impression that Eddie saw her in this kind of light. None of his actions have ever reminded her of the kind of people who want to capture her like an exotic creature to be put on display until the newness wore off and they found that her meagre charms and her unwillingness to be exactly what they wanted did not hold much value to them. He does not see her as some cute childlike thing that needs protecting from the world and maybe especially from herself, either. She might not feel attraction the way most people do, but she’s absolutely sure that he’s never looked at her in the way that makes her feel like he’s devouring her with a single gaze. So perhaps she’s put it out of mind and got on with being friends, taking delight in just spending time with him, listening to the stories he has to offer, and living in those moments. This isn’t exactly that, though, is it?

When she thinks of Eddie ~far more often than she has any right to~ she has a distinct mental image. There is a sadness that always seems to linger in the back of his eyes especially when he thinks no one is watching. Which would lead to him lowering his face and staring into his coffee and the way that his hands would wrap around the cup always felt like he was afraid to let go. Gives him the impression of searching though she’s never sure for what. Sometimes she swears he’s having some internal debate with himself that comes across as starts and falters of sound, that soft-spoken tone that sends shivers down her spine in the best of ways, but still never really becoming words. And in her own way, she knows what that’s like, having so much inside but no real way of expressing it.

Lately though, it’s becoming harder to see him that way. It starts with the way he makes her laugh. Something she hasn’t really done in a long time, and then follows up with thought-provoking questions, and not ones from his list which had been terribly fun. The way he offers to walk her home when he realises she’s afraid of the dark fits in as well, followed closely with the way he curls up protectively around her on the bus or cable-cars. Stupid touristy things he doesn’t seem to mind at all. The keen and sometimes biting observations that he makes of people and the world that compel a shift of perspective. Murmured against her ear, a private conversation that has the power to weaken her knees a little. And more slowly, maybe, she begins to add...other things. How much she likes his smile when he offers it, and the fullness of his lips. How soft they look even when chapped. His eyes again, this time deep and soulful, how they darken in colour, in emotion. How it brings out the sprinkle of the palest freckles across his nose that like hers don’t show very often. She notices how steady, patient, and most importantly, how gentle his hands are. Eddie is, after all, a handsome man if a little rough around the edges. And maybe she really likes those too, a sharp contrast to her own softness. She wants to know what it would feel like to cut herself on them, and if he would kiss the wounds better. Eddie is an orchid, slowly blooming into a beautiful person right before her eyes. A person she wants to nurture and cultivate. Except maybe those aren’t the right words. Again, feelings she has no right to want. At what point do those kinds of nascent wishes become pushy? Seems like some kind of underlying motivation that has been so very carefully orchestrated so that she might take advantage of him? This is the critical part of relationships that are unfathomable to Beth, something everyone else seems to be aware of but that she missed out. Like there’s some kind of manual and it’s written in a foreign language that she doesn’t speak. And what good does it do to become aware of being increasingly attracted to Eddie...when he isn’t interested? She’s never been able to say he’s been less than a perfect gentleman to her. That he doesn’t go out of his way to carefully broach subjects that might make her uncomfortable and then if there’s any hint of distress, to quickly course-correct. If she’s to act in kind, how does she go about asking if maybe he isn’t a little like her? What did her friend call it? A different kind of umbrella, so to speak. She’s never felt an appropriate time has come to try and figure that out in any serious fashion.

Except... It’s quiet now. The wine still lingers on her tongue and soaks into the back of her mind, easing some of the tension right out of her, even if she’s watching him more intently than she ever has before. Wills him to maybe hear that unspoken question as he sits there, comfortable on the couch because the words escape her. He doesn’t recoil from the tap against his leg. Not that she can imagine he would really do that, but one never knows. And sometimes Eddie has odd reactions to general affection, at least from her and her inability to keep her hands entirely to herself.

And despite the myriad of problems she could catalogue, the subtle vocalisation is enough to have her pause precariously on the edge of the cliff they’re on. She can feel the churning of nerves deep in the pit of her stomach. Rogue butterfly wings pounding to be let out or smothered by any other feeling. By itself it should have no power over her except that it does. Makes her want to hear it again at a much closer distance, letting its echo wash over her. There’s such a power to that, one that gains as much as it gives. She can feel it dance beneath her fingertips, the way it feels like he almost presses back into them though she knows he hasn’t moved at all. It’s the wild flutter of his pulse, the song in his blood. It would only take a little pressure to have it gush over her lips and she’s very aware of that. Which is why she doesn’t listen to every instinct screaming for her to do so. She doesn’t want to take from Eddie, but to share. That’s an important distinction, the only one that would ever feel right. His ha comes out hot against her skin, strong. Tells her so much more about him than a hundred conversations, feels like witnessing the birth of islands and the death of mountains, all the life that comes between the two. And just as she’s on the verge of losing herself in the joy and terror of it all, he utters a single word that freezes her to the very marrow of her bones and her heart plunges somewhere down between her knees. Just like that… Eyes widen as she feels the instant backlash of having made a mistake she can’t take back.

She wants to. She should. She should blame the wine and the proximity and the fact that she read into his query wrong, through no fault of his own. That it isn’t his fault in the least. Anything that might make him laugh again and find her silly and that will make him stay. But before she can get the seeds of her apology in fertile soil he continues on. For a moment she finds herself unable to experience anything that isn’t the exquisite ghost of his touch in return. Pressing hers closer as if for one brief moment they both share the same fear and wonderment. And she has no idea what to do about that. 

He’s not pulling away. If anything, he’s encouraging her. At least that is what it sounds like. And it all cascades again. And she finds herself briefly leaning into that caress, the rough pad of a thumb just cresting the arch of her cheek bone. No satin could compete with the delicate nature, and if there’s one thing that Beth knows beyond any doubt it is that touch doesn’t lie. As long as she’s known Eddie, neither does he. Not to her, anyway. Maybe that makes this all a little more unforgivable, but she will deal with the guilt and the consequences come morning. No one, even in her wildest fantasies which are very few and far between, more nameless want than anything else, has ever said something so simple but so full of meaning. Or in a way that eats her alive with newly sparked heat. Because the truth is, most people she knows never put her wishes at the forefront of anything, much less something so delicate in nature. “I…” She shifts. Rises up from the floor to pour herself over him, one slender thigh on either side of his hips, as best as the restraint of her skirt allows her to. Her other hand lifts to cup the other cheek, brushes across the soft stubble of his jaw and from slightly loftier a height, she finds herself looking him directly in the eye a moment, her voice drying up in her throat, forcing her to swallow. It’s her turn to search for something that lacks all definition, that can’t be given shape in words.

She’s forgotten how to breathe. Or maybe doesn’t need to at all, her gaze scouring every inch of his face before returning to his eyes. Because the question is still there. Does she want to do this? Yes. More than he can know. Does she know how? In the most basic of biological functions, also yes. Her lashes drift down to shutter green and gold from the world before she gets closer, and settles her lips to his. She catches the lower tier of his lips between her own. There’s still the same heat and the same temptation in doing so, that has not diminished from her earlier exploration but the kiss is far more gentle. Softer. Sweeter. But with a gradation of intensity that mimicked the pounding of bird wings inside of her chest, against the cage of bone surrounding it. Mimicked below as her hips roll into and against his own but doesn’t offer her any more leverage.

[brooklynislandgirl]

18. Are there any kinks or sexual thoughts you wish you didn't have?

A Little Light/A Little Dark || -

When conversation turns to something distressing it can be seen as easily on her face as the moonlight on the bay. And it's not that Eddie's asked something that was completely out of the question, because honestly talking about this thing is pretty normal. There was even that whole eighties or early nineties move about it, the one with Meg Ryan and Billy "Miracle Max" Crystal.

The problem is...everything. And unpacking it all to make it understandable is excruciating. Reminds her of things she doesn't want to think about. "Well, of course. Everybody does, yeah? Even...even people like me. An' I guess...I mean, cards onna table so to speak... is dat uhm. I got da kine... for pointy teeth an'..uhm. Bitin'. Kinda got a t'ing f' knives. Not like...stab ya an' leave ya f' dead in a' alley kinda way...but more like...da idea of dem. Knife or claw draggin' slow and lazy against da skin. It's more about da grace and da gentility and da art wi' some kine lethal...which I suppose is more about power and trust dan...any oddah kine." Especially when you're indestructible. Oh, Beth is absolutely sure she can die. Just as she's absolutely sure that for years she wanted to because it was a better alternative than simply being alone. But she's survived being nearly torn to pieces. She's survived being shot. She's survived a lot of things she shouldn't have. The scar on her leg is the only real evidence she has from any of it.

But all of that comes back around to a more significant point, and that's the hardest part for her to say out-loud.

"But...ah...here's da kine. Dey got a word for people like me. Call it...uhm demi-sexual. Took a really long time t' realise dat dere was an explanation, dat I wasn't just some kind of broken t'ing like people have suggest before. An' I don' even know if dat's really all of it or if dere's more or different, beddah explanation.

"Uhm. So... anyway, point is... dat I don't fall in love like oddah people do. An' I don'... I don' even really care about doin' dat kinda stuff wi' myself much less anyone else. But da reason why I wish I nevah feel anyt'ing at all is... rare times I do? Is always wi' da wrong person. Someone who nevah could see me because my braddah shined too brightly. Someone who no matter what I evah did or said... only saw me as a friend. Someone who no maddah what I said or did...could nevah love me back.

" 'Oh, Beth,' dey say. 'You're so pretty an' so wonderful, and so...' A million different kine but in da end it's nevah uhm. It's nevah enough. I'm nevah enough. An' I've heard it enough now dat... I don' wanna feel dat way any more. I don' wanna feel...anyt'ing, really." She offers him a slow, wry twist of her mouth and then a hapless shrug. There is more truth in those few words than she's ever really spoken aloud, and now she wishes she could take them all back. That she had enough grace to make a joke of it all and ask something tryingly personal of him. In the morning, she will blame it all on too much wine and not enough to soak it up. In a week she will blame herself for being recklessly stupid by opening up in even the smallest of ways.

She forces a laugh. "Sorry f' gettin' heavy on ya dere. Would ya like...some more coffee?"

[brooklynislandgirl]

"What do you think is the best way to seduce my muse?"

Eddie would hardly consider himself an expert on seduction, but he's got a pretty good idea what would at least grease the gears... facilitated in part, surreptitiously or otherwise, by his Other. A midnight picnic dinner atop a building they really had no right (and certainly no permission) to be visiting, giving them a prime view of the lit cityscape and the skies. A used heavy blanket, since the gravel and tar used to seal rooftops are not ideal seat cushions. A hoodie to offer the lady to combat the chilly skyscraper breezes -- Eddie still knows a thing or two about chivalry, and the blanket would just look presumptuous otherwise. An older boombox with a cassette player that still works (but doesn't eject), a Journey album perpetually stuck inside. A list of "Get To Know You" questions they can ask one another. Is it seduction if a part of your objective is demonstrating an honest effort to understand the other better? If so, guilty as charged. And last but certainly not least, walking her to whatever door she pleases, with gratitude for a pleasant evening and without any expectation. The night is hers to conclude, and it is his honor to see it from beginning to end.

And hopefully, his Other doesn't suddenly burst forth and eat a pigeon.

(Eddie Brock // Venom)

~*~

Drink The Honey || Accepting

Early spring off the Bay is not that much different than winter, except there’s maybe less sleet. When she wades through the chilly drizzle with two cups of coffee, she calls out greetings to people who have now come to recognise her face and her less than intimidating stature. She stops to chat, to offer advice, to reassure her clinic has open doors for anyone that needs them. They know she works with the local churches but that Beth is as good as her word, she will treat whatever ailments, help with food and clothing and shelter. That she won’t turn anyone away. And because of that, she’s left more or less alone amongst the sea of the poor and the unseen.  There’s never anywhere that she’s lived or travelled to for work that she hasn’t seen the rampant systemic growth of this kind of unspoken caste system. And if anything, Beth absolutely hates any kind of scheme that makes a profit of any kind from the deliberate misery of others. And though she has a rigid moral code that she lives her life by, she isn’t above having favourites. One of them is “Hilly” a gentleman who snarls every time she calls him Mr Hildebrand and his dog, Newton. She’s already dropped off his glaucoma medication and a week’s supply of good dog food. He won’t let her do much for him, but he doesn’t mind her spoiling his best friend. Then there’s the Trio, Joaquin, Blanca, and Luis, siblings no more than eighteen months apart, the youngest being six. Their auntie Rosalie does everything that she can to get by, even if their lives had been destroyed ~home, jobs, and the kids’ parents~ by the last round of fires. Beth is in negotiations with her trust to buy them a cute row-house she’s found.

And of course, there’s Eddie. To whom the second cup she’s holding belongs to. She really doesn’t have a good handle on him but she’s rather charmed by his sometimes quiet, sometimes erratic demeanour and one day she’s determined to get his story. For now, she’s content to sit with him in silence and sip their coffee. And when he asks her about her plans that evening, she’s honest in saying she doesn’t have any. She never really does, unless it’s work related. When he invites her to have dinner with him, and provides her an address, she knows she should know better, but Beth can’t help but be intrigued. She says yes. ~*~ And now she’s here. She’s taken an extra anti-anxiety medicine because Beth doesn’t do the dark. It’s a primordial childhood fear, one she isn’t proud of, one she’s never outgrown. But she isn’t about to turn down his olive branch of friendship, especially when it seemed important to him earlier that day. She maybe could have said something when they technically broke into and climbed to the top of the building but instead she’s merely glad that she’d chosen leggings, her boots, and a sweater for the occasion. And it certainly is beautiful here, despite the height. Another thing that she’s not comfortable with. So she sticks as close to the centre of the rooftop as she can get.

She’s surprised and deeply touched when he offers her the hoodie. It’s too many sizes big for her and she has a suspicion that this may be one of his spares, maybe his only extra. She puts it on and can’t help but breath in the scent at the shoulder. There’s nothing entirely unpleasant about it. Though she does get a whiff of something she can’t quite put her finger on, that registers in the back of her mind as a curiosity.

“Dis is really sweet, Eddie.” She says softly, her eyes alight with the glow from of Salesforth Tower. “T’be honest...I nevah t’ink ya dat fond of me dat ya go t’rough all dis trouble.” She smiles though, fragile and winsome as cherry blossom trees in the park.

[brooklynislandgirl]

♫ (for Stephen, Eddie, and Spider-Man)

singing in the dark || Accepting

When I associate a song for Beth with another person in mind, regardless of the ship between them, I never attach that song to another mun/muse pair again. Exclusivity is a thing because I don't just hear something I like and go "Yeah, this is a song about ships in general" or "My ships are so generic that any song can fit any number of them." But I'm also the kind of person who tends to find a particular partner-muse, and that muse, if canon, becomes my ideal/exclusive/ride-or-die version of that muse. For example, you won't see another Stephen, Eddie or Spidey on my blog.

So, in light of that, I offer...

~*~

Stephen: Hate To See Your Heart Break | Paramore

And I, I hate to see your heart break I hate to see your eyes get darker as they close But I've been there before Love, happens all the time To people who aren't kind And heroes who are blind

Expecting perfect scripted movie scenes But what's an awkward silence mystery? How were you to know? Oh, how were you to know? And I, I hate to see your heart break

~*~ Eddie: Broken | Jonah Kagen

I’m lonely, it’s been so long Since I’ve felt loved, smiled, felt strong And what can I do when I’m not friends with my reflection When I don’t understand affection like you do Now I’m begging you to come and pull me out the fire Come and save me like you did when we were young Oh please come bring me up from my lowest take me higher Can you see me through the ashes and the smoke You say that you’ll help me, tell me I’m worth it But I don’t deserve it, I don’t deserve it It’s easy for you ‘cause you know you’re perfect ~*~

Peter: Superheroes | The Script

All the life she has seen All the meaner side of me They took away the prophet's dream For a profit on the street Now she's stronger than you know A heart of steel starts to grow All his life he's been told He'll be nothing when he's old All the kicks and all the blows He won't ever let it show 'Cause he's stronger than you know A heart of steel starts to grow When you've been fighting for it all your life You've been struggling to make things right That's how a superhero learns to fly Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power When you've fighting for it all your life You've been working every day and night That's how a superhero learns to fly Every day, every hour, turn the pain into power Oh-oh, oh, oh Oh-oh, oh, oh All the hurt, all the lies All the tears that they cry When the moment is just right You see fire in their eyes ~*~

Bonus Song, because you know me and we're both gonna laugh about it later: Everybody's Kang | Ookla the Mok