(mad_muses)A trail of aching derrières, next time they'll be more thoughtful.
Push
Alec Winchester hated everyone. Well okay. Not his family. Or Dakota. Maybe Rosalita Navarres-Sandoval with her adorable Mexican accent and Chaz McCarthy. He was okay to, even if his parents had given him one of the worst names imaginable There might have been a teacher or two, but basically?
The world at large sucked.
And he wasn't coming down off the God damned roof until the last fucking bell rang. Which wouldn't be for another hour. Because there was no power on Earth besides Dean Winchester or Colonel Lydecker that could move his thirteen year old little feline ass if it didn't want to be moved.
Alec was skipping Phys Ed.
Why?
Well sure as shit not because it was hard. Winning gold at the Olympics wouldn't be hard. He was built that way.
No, it had much more to do with Clinton Karas. Tall, popular asshole Clinton. Who liked to pick on the kids that didn't quite fit in right or were a little to small to defend themselves.
And Alec seemed to fit those categories. The weird kid who didn't act quite like the others, took highschool classes half the day. Who still gladly let his mom hug him in public, because he was making up for eight years of not having a mom at all. Who liked sitting on the floor more than chairs if it was allowed. Who was tiny for his age had big old bright green eyes. He was pretty.
It wouldn't have bothered him. He was built and everything was prewritten for him. He looked like he was supposed to look. Which he guessed was small and helpless.
He wasn't. He knew he wasn't. He was stronger and faster than his martial arts instructor. He was stronger and faster that any one at the school, adult or kid. He had the know how. He had black belts. That's right. Multiple. He had weapons training.
So he cut class because on top of all those things he had a temper that was as sharp and quick as any felines lately. And if Clinton or one of his little flunkies pushed, pokes, jabbed, bumped, or pulled at his hair one more time Alec was afraid his temper would snap. At which point he'd start snapping bones.
Alec lolled in the sun on the roof, earphones on and iPod playing quietly. Just another weird thing. He didn't like the earbuds that came with it. He didn't care if everyone else wore them. They were strange and stuck in his ears and he didn't approve. At all.
After a few minute he rolled over onto his belly and pulled his geometry textbook, figuring he may as well get a head start on his homework. School work on school time. He should get into less trouble that way.
Right?
Muse: Alec McDowellWinchester/X5-494
'Verse: greypicketfence
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 473
Open to RP
Alec Winchester hated everyone. Well okay. Not his family. Or Dakota. Maybe Rosalita Navarres-Sandoval with her adorable Mexican accent and Chaz McCarthy. He was okay to, even if his parents had given him one of the worst names imaginable There might have been a teacher or two, but basically?
The world at large sucked.
And he wasn't coming down off the God damned roof until the last fucking bell rang. Which wouldn't be for another hour. Because there was no power on Earth besides Dean Winchester or Colonel Lydecker that could move his thirteen year old little feline ass if it didn't want to be moved.
Alec was skipping Phys Ed.
Why?
Well sure as shit not because it was hard. Winning gold at the Olympics wouldn't be hard. He was built that way.
No, it had much more to do with Clinton Karas. Tall, popular asshole Clinton. Who liked to pick on the kids that didn't quite fit in right or were a little to small to defend themselves.
And Alec seemed to fit those categories. The weird kid who didn't act quite like the others, took highschool classes half the day. Who still gladly let his mom hug him in public, because he was making up for eight years of not having a mom at all. Who liked sitting on the floor more than chairs if it was allowed. Who was tiny for his age had big old bright green eyes. He was pretty.
It wouldn't have bothered him. He was built and everything was prewritten for him. He looked like he was supposed to look. Which he guessed was small and helpless.
He wasn't. He knew he wasn't. He was stronger and faster than his martial arts instructor. He was stronger and faster that any one at the school, adult or kid. He had the know how. He had black belts. That's right. Multiple. He had weapons training.
So he cut class because on top of all those things he had a temper that was as sharp and quick as any felines lately. And if Clinton or one of his little flunkies pushed, pokes, jabbed, bumped, or pulled at his hair one more time Alec was afraid his temper would snap. At which point he'd start snapping bones.
Alec lolled in the sun on the roof, earphones on and iPod playing quietly. Just another weird thing. He didn't like the earbuds that came with it. He didn't care if everyone else wore them. They were strange and stuck in his ears and he didn't approve. At all.
After a few minute he rolled over onto his belly and pulled his geometry textbook, figuring he may as well get a head start on his homework. School work on school time. He should get into less trouble that way.
Right?
Muse: Alec McDowellWinchester/X5-494
'Verse: greypicketfence
Fandom: Dark Angel
Word count: 473
Open to RP