writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia

yabamena

If there was one thing everyone knew about Reid Garwin it was that he was a reckless skirt-chaser. He took chances none of the other sons of Ipswich would -- not even Pogue -- and flirted with every attractive girl who passed by. He went through relationships like he went through tissues and considering he was a young man with a healthy sex drive, he went through a lot of both.

( Your Breath Fills My Lungs )

I was shocked at the face I saw as I stood in front on the class. No one else existed for a brief moment. All I saw was him. It was all the same. He had the brown curling hair, thick in texture. His eyes, under dark brows that lent well to brooding, were a warm brown. His nose was a little wide, but it was balanced by full lips all set in a brownish face that all told me he was mixed.

I'd seen that face before. I knew it topped a tall lean body well built for basketball or softball. I knew just how that mouth could smile, and what his laughter sounded like. I even knew there was a scar under his chin. He dressed casually: Old Navy with a dash of American Eagle, and he owned a Nike baseball cap in red and black.

It was in my bag. He was the kid from my dream.

He was staring at me now and I knew what he saw. Thin, slender frame, fitted jeans and an indie tee. Pale Irish skin marred in a few places by freckles, especially across my nose. He saw chin-length angled dark brown hair that tended to ever really look combed. Thin brows, blue eyes, a small nose and lips. Not thin, just a small mouth in general. He stared at me as I stared at him because-

He recognized me too.

Nico's eyes widened when he saw my neck. It was smooth, dark, and unblemished, free of every mark he'd left there. Knowing full well what he was and what he was capable of didn't stop me from moving closer, into his personal space.

"You can play your games with your brother, Nico, but you had better remember that I'm not a thing. Hickies and love bites are one thing, but if you ever-" I poked him in the chest, hard "-ever try to mark me like that again, you will seriously and deeply regret it." It was probably foolish to threaten a werewolf, but I meant every word of it. He knew that, yet that wasn't why he was staring at me so incredulously.

"Julia...how did you heal so fast? That isn't possible. It shouldn't be." His dark eyes were fixed on my neck as he spoke but when he finished they climbed up to mine. It was that question, that look on his face, that cut me off mid-tirade. He pressed his advantage. "Yesterday, I bit you here," and he drew his finger along my neck, his eyes tracking the movement. "I put my initials here," he continued, and the memory of his audacity made me flare in anger again, but his hand drifted downward, over the curve of my breast where NG had been prominently displayed only yesterday, just over my heart. He glanced from his hand up to my face again. "Nothing's there. At all. Healing that fact Julia, it's...impossible."

"No," I whispered in response, my eyes wide and my voice shaking. "It's just inhuman."

While Pete sleeps, Iosif's fingers dance over his skin, lingering in sweet soft spots as they go. They pause in the small of Pete's back, then move up over the curve of his rear. There the rest of his hand joins in, curving over smooth skin. He reverses direction, moving up Pete's spine, stopping a moment while Pete lets out a soft hum of a sound.

Pet's completely worn out again, like all his energy's been sucked right out of him, and once again, Iosif feels like a livewire, too much energy to sit still. Now he sort of knows how Pete feels, always ready to go.

But something's off, something's different and Iosif can't really put his fingers on it. Maybe if he saw his eyes glow deep red when he was sucking Pete off, or biting his neck, he might realize he was draining energy from Pete, sucking it right out through whichever chakra was closest. Maybe he'd realize that the gidim trapped in him was slowly getting stronger off Pete's abundant energy.

Right now though, he teases a soft spot between Pete's neck and shoulder and leaves him to sleep while he reads up on their next mission. It's Pete's first one, and they're going together and Iosif can't put into words how much that makes him smile. A new burst of energy surges through him at the thought and it's all he can do not to wake Pete up. Instead, he'll wait until the blond in his bed is awake and ready on his own steam. His hand settles in Pete's hair, carding through it softly as he reads.

Whispers of energy trickle through Pete's crown chakra but this time Iosif unconsciously manages to push it back. The gidim is strong, but Iosif's stronger and there's no way he's letting anything happen to Pete on his watch.

bb_shousetsu

bb_shousetsu

Frankie loved the morning. The morning after a full moon were his favorites, when his strength was at a high and Belial was still asleep. Full moons meant Belial was weak, at his low point, and the mornings after meant Frankie had done his best to ease that weakness. Considering Belial was an incubus who drew strength from dreams - and more from waking lust - it was a wonder Frankie himself was even awake. But even if his body was tired, sore, and twinging, he couldn't ignore the pull of dawn. He couldn't deny his need to slip out of bed, climb up to the rooftop and, with a contented sigh, let his wings spread.

Frankie's wings were a soft dove grey, shot through with paler shades, with white and tipped a slightly darker grey. They weren't the pure white most people associated with angels. At first Frankie had been concerned about that. The whiter the wings the purer the angel. His were grey and he knew why. Belial.

bb_shousetsu

The moon was full. The cloudless sky was riddled with stars, and the moon shone unnaturally bright over the woods behind Julia's house. She tugged aside the heavy curtain letting the light stream in, knowing tonight Nico would be out there. In her hand she held a silver locket with a secret compartment filled wolfsbane. Terry's necklace. He was going to be be out there too. Julia stepped back and lined her window with a mixture of mistletoe and rye, then dusted it with mountain ash, for good measure. The way Nico and Terry were acting lately she didn't want either of them near here, and certainly not during the full moon.

She was a little worried about Terry though. He'd been staving off changing for so long he was certainly weaker as a wolf than Nico was. Nico reveled in the change and taunted his twin for being lesser, for rejecting what he was. They fought badly enough in human form. What would happen tonight?

Julia put the necklace under her pillow and climbed into bed. No, she shouldn't be worried about Terry. He'd lied to her, repeatedly, and seemed to think that was just going to slide now. Now that she needed "protecting". That was a laugh. Julia didn't need protecting from Nico; Terry did. Julia didn't need protecting from anyone.

Her dreams that night were full of the moon, of fur and claws and teeth, of blood and howls, of rejoicing and pain. She wasn't just listening to the wolves, she was among them, one of them.

And just like Nico, she reveled in it.

"I know about you, Shannon." Diego's voice was deep and quiet, low enough for only me to hear him.

I froze where I was, paintbrush poised to swipe a generous splash of blue across the canvas. "What?"

"You heard me. Jared knew for a while, didn't he? Well, now so do I. I figured it out. I figured you out."

I went cold, an impressive feat considering it was already 85 degrees outside and the sun was beating down on my shoulders. Diego came closer, throwing his shadow over me and the painting. "You- you know?"

"I figured you didn't want to tell anyone else because you had no idea how we'd react right? But you told Jared, because you guys are so close." There was something about the way he said that that made me shiver, and remember all those intense looks, the ones where I thought he was reading me. Maybe he had been. "But the way I see it, we're your friends, and maybe we'd understand better than anyone. Maybe Jared wasn't the only person who could have been there for you."

Instead of his words making me want to confide in him, they just made me angry. "Would you stop it? Stop talking about him like he's dead! He's not dead, he's just-"

"Just what? Because you and I both know he's not at any camp. I'm his best friend Shannon, I deserve to know why I can't even get a hold of him. Where is he? Tell me where he is Shannon, and I'll forget the fact that you've been keeping secrets from us for months."