this is not alex (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thisisalex) wrote2007-10-03 04:00 am
thisisalex) wrote2007-10-03 04:00 am
(no subject)
Prompt: Inhuman Creation Station by CKY.
Character: Chewie Evgenyev, and Ani and Wampa Jones. You know, the Star Wars kids.
Summary: Hitting on chicks in the mall.
"Can I use them for just a second? Pleeeease? I just want to borrow them and I'll give them back!" The flirtatiously pleading voice of the slender young brunette echoed dully in the crowded mall, the corners of her mouth turned down in a mock pout. The girl, a cute Scot around 19 or 20, stood shoulder to shoulder with her blonde friend, the two of them playing their chams and working their charms on the boys across from them -- one resting nearly all his weight on the cool wall behind him, a pair of silver crutches supporting the rest of his weight, one rocking backward and forward idly on a small manual wheelchair, and one scowling in the back, completely oblivious to the wiles of the feminine charmers before him.
"Oh don't mind him, he's just gay," the grinning one supporting himself with his crutches had explained, waving a dismissive hand at the grumpiest member of their crew. To which, the already balding scowler (who had spit out in passing that he was younger than his two companions and couldn't believe he was being forced to keep watch over the two of them) had responded by kicking one of the crutches out from under the former's armpit, and sent him toppling to the floor.
"Oh don't mind him, he's just stupid," the violent one grumbled before stooping down to help his friend return to a standing position.
"But I need these to walk!" the crutched flirter was retorting in his strange accent, firm despite his laughing amiably at their coquetry.
"You can share the chair with me Anikins!" the wheelchair bound companion teased, tipping back his chair to peer at his friend upside down. The girls giggled at the strange group they seemed to make. These boys, with their Star Wars nicknames ("Chosen only to protect your fragile Western tongues," the one dubbed "Chewie" had assured them) and strange accents (only Chewie had been able to say with any real certainty where he had been born -- Scotland -- and where he had been raised -- Belarus; the other two waffled a bit before saying, with little certainty, "... Eastern Europe ... and Scandinavia. Sorta."), one stuck in a wheelchair, one weakly hobbling about on crutches, and one trailing in the back and glowering, were very different from the boys that usually caught the girls' discriminating eyes. But something about this charmingly geeky gaggle of boys had nabbed their attentions and they giggled and flirted and threw out those girlish airs as if they were a pack of toned footballer.
Damn. Chewie really was good.
"Or you can use Wampa as your crutch!" the blonde friend suggested, indicating the angry one. Wampa scowled.
"If you let her use those crutches I will drop your sorry ass here and leave. No one fucking wants to 'play with crutches' that bad. Either she's gonna take off with them, thinking she's flirting when she's really just making you feel like shit, or she's got Munchausen's on the make. Pick your fucking poison." Both Ani and Chewie's faces fell into an angry frown as they gazed over at their friend, while the girls stood in a pouty sort of shot. Well, God save whoever tried to pick him up, man or woman.
"For fuck's sake Wamps, lighten the hell up," Ani grumbled. Wampa turned to him, his hard eyes taking in his brother's face.
"For fuck's sake An, you need to sit down," he replied with a concern that was closer to angry and annoyed nagging than anything else. The girls watched the scene that was sure to follow carefully; they had as of yet been unable to discover, through their sweet and roundabout ways, what ailed the two young men, and had felt it too impolite to ask up front, but they had fathered, through the alert glances Chewie kept throwing up at Ani, the puffy-faced grinner with a nose ring practically embedded in his face, and the uneasy and unnecessary presence of Wampa, idling behind Ani and sneering at Chewie, that Ani was the worse off of the two.
"So ladies, been in the music store today? I say we head into the music store," Chewie was practically shouting in a vague attempt to draw any unwanted attention from the Jones. But it was in vain, the girls were too heavily engrossed already, and all they were doing was speaking civilly.
Their tones were low, their accents heavy, and the majority of their words seemed to be in the boys' native tongue (or at least one of them), but the girls were able to catch snippets of clear English here and there, and found themselves supplementing the rest of the conversation by studying Ani and Wampa's tense faces.
"--dragging your unconscious ass--"
"--you think I'd do that to Mum?--"
"--I can't do that--"
"--so what if I want out--"
The words flew, and they could tell, from the fierceness in Wampa's eyes that was far from anger, and the faded look on Ani's pale and puffy face, that Ani was not doing well. In fact, the argument seemed to be draining him of whatever energy Wampa had been urging him to salvage as beads of sweat began forming on his wan brother's forehead.
"WHY DON'T YOU TRY PUTTING YOUR FEET ON THE GROUND, ĄŽUOLAS?" Wampa finally bellowed, causing Chewie to throw out a protective arm and force the girls to take a step or two back from the argument at hand. He knew as well as the rest of the Paraspawn that Wampa's explosive temper rarely failed to draw blood. "Every time you start to get better, you do something stupid and FUCK IT THE HELL UP! You should be twice as far along as you are now, but you're still too god damn reckless for your own fucking good!"
"Speak for yourself fucking Mr. Manic-Depressive-I-Fucking-Hate-My-Meds Psychopath." Ani's words were loud and harsh, but in a softer, more spiteful manner. He was tired, but he would stay on his pseudo feet just to spite his little brother if he had to.
"I'm not the one giving myself seizures because I'm hypoglycemic and I don't eat for days at a time. I'M NOT THE ONE WHO'S FUCKING PARALYZED, ANI."
Ani paused for a long moment, his eyes on his useless feet as his brother glared at the top of his head. He could feel the shocked and sympathetic eyes on the back of his head, that knowledge that those girls weren't going to treat him with the same sort of deference they had before, that they wouldn't be able to kid and flirt and flutter their eyelashes because he was paralyzed and not just injured. Chewie had been attempting to show him how to flirt from the wheelchair, but Ani had watched him with a jealous and spiteful chip on his shoulder. Chewie wasn't really paralyzed, Chewie would be able to tell them about how he had simply broken his ankle and he could walk, how his legs worked and he'd be able to jump up and run around again in no time. He could at least move his legs. At least his legs weren't bony, muscle-less masses.
"Fuck you Wampa."
"You know why I said that."
"What? You think tough love will help me walk again someday?" his voice was exhausted and sarcastic. Wampa couldn't help but manage a grin. He was angry, but he certainly sounded like his brother there.
"Not at this rate you won't. Chewie, get up." Wampa's words were harsh and quick and Chewie jumped up obediently, hopping lamely on his right foot, his bare left foot barely brushing the ground. "And tell the nice ladies how you really broke your ankle before they get too charmed by you."
"Playing tag with my two-year-old son," Chewie grumbled almost ashamedly, holding onto the blonde for the support. And he certainly did not miss her sudden "Aww!" Cue cocky grin.
Ani felt weak as his brother lowered him into his wheelchair, handing the crutches over to their original owner, and as he felt himself hit the seat, the Lithurussian Paraspawn lost consciousness. Wampa groaned. "Fuck. This isn't happening a fourth time."
Of course, it was only for a moment. Regaining consciousness little more than a minute later, he looked up into the charmingly concerned faces of the two girls whose names he had plumb forgotten -- or possibly never asked for -- and grinned a mischievous grin with just a hint of his former weakness.
"Ciao."
Character: Chewie Evgenyev, and Ani and Wampa Jones. You know, the Star Wars kids.
Summary: Hitting on chicks in the mall.
"Can I use them for just a second? Pleeeease? I just want to borrow them and I'll give them back!" The flirtatiously pleading voice of the slender young brunette echoed dully in the crowded mall, the corners of her mouth turned down in a mock pout. The girl, a cute Scot around 19 or 20, stood shoulder to shoulder with her blonde friend, the two of them playing their chams and working their charms on the boys across from them -- one resting nearly all his weight on the cool wall behind him, a pair of silver crutches supporting the rest of his weight, one rocking backward and forward idly on a small manual wheelchair, and one scowling in the back, completely oblivious to the wiles of the feminine charmers before him.
"Oh don't mind him, he's just gay," the grinning one supporting himself with his crutches had explained, waving a dismissive hand at the grumpiest member of their crew. To which, the already balding scowler (who had spit out in passing that he was younger than his two companions and couldn't believe he was being forced to keep watch over the two of them) had responded by kicking one of the crutches out from under the former's armpit, and sent him toppling to the floor.
"Oh don't mind him, he's just stupid," the violent one grumbled before stooping down to help his friend return to a standing position.
"But I need these to walk!" the crutched flirter was retorting in his strange accent, firm despite his laughing amiably at their coquetry.
"You can share the chair with me Anikins!" the wheelchair bound companion teased, tipping back his chair to peer at his friend upside down. The girls giggled at the strange group they seemed to make. These boys, with their Star Wars nicknames ("Chosen only to protect your fragile Western tongues," the one dubbed "Chewie" had assured them) and strange accents (only Chewie had been able to say with any real certainty where he had been born -- Scotland -- and where he had been raised -- Belarus; the other two waffled a bit before saying, with little certainty, "... Eastern Europe ... and Scandinavia. Sorta."), one stuck in a wheelchair, one weakly hobbling about on crutches, and one trailing in the back and glowering, were very different from the boys that usually caught the girls' discriminating eyes. But something about this charmingly geeky gaggle of boys had nabbed their attentions and they giggled and flirted and threw out those girlish airs as if they were a pack of toned footballer.
Damn. Chewie really was good.
"Or you can use Wampa as your crutch!" the blonde friend suggested, indicating the angry one. Wampa scowled.
"If you let her use those crutches I will drop your sorry ass here and leave. No one fucking wants to 'play with crutches' that bad. Either she's gonna take off with them, thinking she's flirting when she's really just making you feel like shit, or she's got Munchausen's on the make. Pick your fucking poison." Both Ani and Chewie's faces fell into an angry frown as they gazed over at their friend, while the girls stood in a pouty sort of shot. Well, God save whoever tried to pick him up, man or woman.
"For fuck's sake Wamps, lighten the hell up," Ani grumbled. Wampa turned to him, his hard eyes taking in his brother's face.
"For fuck's sake An, you need to sit down," he replied with a concern that was closer to angry and annoyed nagging than anything else. The girls watched the scene that was sure to follow carefully; they had as of yet been unable to discover, through their sweet and roundabout ways, what ailed the two young men, and had felt it too impolite to ask up front, but they had fathered, through the alert glances Chewie kept throwing up at Ani, the puffy-faced grinner with a nose ring practically embedded in his face, and the uneasy and unnecessary presence of Wampa, idling behind Ani and sneering at Chewie, that Ani was the worse off of the two.
"So ladies, been in the music store today? I say we head into the music store," Chewie was practically shouting in a vague attempt to draw any unwanted attention from the Jones. But it was in vain, the girls were too heavily engrossed already, and all they were doing was speaking civilly.
Their tones were low, their accents heavy, and the majority of their words seemed to be in the boys' native tongue (or at least one of them), but the girls were able to catch snippets of clear English here and there, and found themselves supplementing the rest of the conversation by studying Ani and Wampa's tense faces.
"--dragging your unconscious ass--"
"--you think I'd do that to Mum?--"
"--I can't do that--"
"--so what if I want out--"
The words flew, and they could tell, from the fierceness in Wampa's eyes that was far from anger, and the faded look on Ani's pale and puffy face, that Ani was not doing well. In fact, the argument seemed to be draining him of whatever energy Wampa had been urging him to salvage as beads of sweat began forming on his wan brother's forehead.
"WHY DON'T YOU TRY PUTTING YOUR FEET ON THE GROUND, ĄŽUOLAS?" Wampa finally bellowed, causing Chewie to throw out a protective arm and force the girls to take a step or two back from the argument at hand. He knew as well as the rest of the Paraspawn that Wampa's explosive temper rarely failed to draw blood. "Every time you start to get better, you do something stupid and FUCK IT THE HELL UP! You should be twice as far along as you are now, but you're still too god damn reckless for your own fucking good!"
"Speak for yourself fucking Mr. Manic-Depressive-I-Fucking-Hate-My-Meds Psychopath." Ani's words were loud and harsh, but in a softer, more spiteful manner. He was tired, but he would stay on his pseudo feet just to spite his little brother if he had to.
"I'm not the one giving myself seizures because I'm hypoglycemic and I don't eat for days at a time. I'M NOT THE ONE WHO'S FUCKING PARALYZED, ANI."
Ani paused for a long moment, his eyes on his useless feet as his brother glared at the top of his head. He could feel the shocked and sympathetic eyes on the back of his head, that knowledge that those girls weren't going to treat him with the same sort of deference they had before, that they wouldn't be able to kid and flirt and flutter their eyelashes because he was paralyzed and not just injured. Chewie had been attempting to show him how to flirt from the wheelchair, but Ani had watched him with a jealous and spiteful chip on his shoulder. Chewie wasn't really paralyzed, Chewie would be able to tell them about how he had simply broken his ankle and he could walk, how his legs worked and he'd be able to jump up and run around again in no time. He could at least move his legs. At least his legs weren't bony, muscle-less masses.
"Fuck you Wampa."
"You know why I said that."
"What? You think tough love will help me walk again someday?" his voice was exhausted and sarcastic. Wampa couldn't help but manage a grin. He was angry, but he certainly sounded like his brother there.
"Not at this rate you won't. Chewie, get up." Wampa's words were harsh and quick and Chewie jumped up obediently, hopping lamely on his right foot, his bare left foot barely brushing the ground. "And tell the nice ladies how you really broke your ankle before they get too charmed by you."
"Playing tag with my two-year-old son," Chewie grumbled almost ashamedly, holding onto the blonde for the support. And he certainly did not miss her sudden "Aww!" Cue cocky grin.
Ani felt weak as his brother lowered him into his wheelchair, handing the crutches over to their original owner, and as he felt himself hit the seat, the Lithurussian Paraspawn lost consciousness. Wampa groaned. "Fuck. This isn't happening a fourth time."
Of course, it was only for a moment. Regaining consciousness little more than a minute later, he looked up into the charmingly concerned faces of the two girls whose names he had plumb forgotten -- or possibly never asked for -- and grinned a mischievous grin with just a hint of his former weakness.
"Ciao."