DONT WASTE TIME WITH POLITICS

[CONNOR DEVLIN MCMURPHY]

WITH MY FATE, MY THOUGHTS ERASE
MY HEADS A BLUR, THE PICTURE FADES

• • • • • • •

Steady, steady. Be steady. Murph mumbled to himself as he toed the taped line on the ground, his arm extended and his fingers gently gripping the dart. He had one foot pointed towards the dart board hanging on the wall of the bar, while the other pointed outward; balancing him completely. Okay, ready, set.”He spoke aloud to himself as he took in a deep breath and then exhaled as he threw the dart at the old dart board. Yes! He shouted while turning around, a large grin on his face. He crossed over to the table that housed his pint, picking and bringing it to his lips for a swallow. The Irishmen looked at the three men standing around the dartboard, frowns marring their gruff faces as they narrowed their eyes at the four darts all in the little red bullseye. That’s right bitch! Who’s your daddy?!” he chorused, his Irish lit making the other men glower more. Walking in a circle around the boys he collected the darts from the board, waggling them in front of the three men . So boys, what’yah thin’? he paused, a grin turning up his lips as he sized them up. He could probably take these guys for another hundred or so, just throw the next couple games and make it seem like this was a real fluke. Then when least expecting it, pull another round like this previous one and take all their money. It was simple, he’d done it a thousand times by now; each time brought a new bought of adrenaline, he lived for this shit. another roun’ or two? he questioned.

The blue eyed Irishman watched the trio carefully, trying to get a read on exactly how they were feeling. None too happy judging by the identical frowns on their faces. Murph dropped the hand holding the darts to his side, his grin slipped into something akin to a frown. “al’ight, forget abou’ the game. Just pay me wha’ yah owe me an’ we’ll part ways. he drawled out, shoving his free hand into the pocket of his jeans, shifting his weight in case he needed to make a run for it. He knew he was pushing his luck at this establishment; this was the third time in a row that he hit up this particular shithole bar and hustled. Albeit, the first night he hustled cards, stud poker; the second night it was pool; and tonight it was darts. Back over in Ireland it would not have been a problem, seeing as every was just as loud and had an accent all the same as him. However, across the pond over here in ‘Merica, well he stood out. By now he assumed that word had gotten out to the regulars about the loud-mouthed, blue eyed Irishman making honest suckers out of people. Murph licked his lips, pink tongue darting out quickly as he calculated how fast he could make it out the door in case things got hairy. The trio didn’t look that fast, they were all kind of pudgy, so he could out run them, as long as he didn’t get grabbed on his way out the door.

how about you just scram and we don’t beat your ass, huh leprechaun? the biggest of the three snarled, spittle flying from his lips. He puffed out his chest, in some attempt to look more threatening, when really he just looked like an oompa loompa. Face all scrunched up and slowly turning red as he squinted his beady brown eyes at Murph, raking his eyes up and down. Murphy suppressed a shudder, of course a mortal, well a disgusting mortal, would be the only thing to actually creep him out. He had seen that look a few times before and was not planning on sticking around long enough to find out if theses creeps actually had the balls to pull anything. As much as he hated to admit it, there was something almost pretty about his face. It was a blessing as much as it was a curse; at this moment that it was starting to feel like the latter. Nodding minutely and setting the darts on the table Murph cast his gaze down, feigning submission as he brushed past the trio. Deep cackling followed him as he made his way to the bar, all the while pretending that he was the one who lost that battle.

Little did those sorry sons of bitches know that he had managed to lift the cash that he was rightfully entitled to. Sliding onto an available barstool at the far end of the bar Murph had a decent view of the whole establishment, especially the three men that were eventually going to realize what he had done. Murph turned his attention to the pretty blonde bartender, with more tits than brains if he were to guess. pint of Guinness he stated, his Irish lit causing the girl to giggle before nodding and scurrying off. Murph shook his head and grinned, before nudging the guy beside him. chicks ay? Dig the accent they do. he stated. The blonde set his drink down in front of him along with a coaster and a napkin, he grinned up at her before shooting her a playful wink as she scurried off to tend to the next customer. Murphy picked up the napkin, a full blown laugh falling from his lips as he say her name, number and a lip print in cherry red lipstick. would’yah look at tha’? he said while waiving the napkin around in front of the strangers face. all I ‘ad to do was order a pint, ‘merican girls are so easy, eh bud? he chirped, nudging the stranger once again. Murphy was not too sure on the etiquette of pubs, no, bars in American, but he figured some harmless chit chat would be acceptable. Even if it wasn’t Murphy couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck.

EYES, THEY KEEP ON SHUTTING DOWN
CAN'T SEE WHY YOU WONT FIGURE ME OUT

• • • • • • •

• Word Count:998
  
• Status: Complete!
  
• Tag: Emily/Carson
  
• Notes: this could be fun!
  
• Music: Rocky Raccoon

[CARSON MICAH HAWK ,]

YOU MIGHT WIN ONE BATTLE
BUT KNOW THIS, I'LL WIN THE FUCKING WAR
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

sick days and personal days didn’t exist when you lived the life of a hunter. and so, despite his already hung-over state, the show must go on. evening had already cascaded over the californian skies but mister hawk found himself still in bed. why? well, because he did whatever the hell he wanted – plain and simple. as a makeshift team leader for the group of hunters in the area, carson hawk expected that no one acted without his permission and appeared to him with a clean mind. he himself, however, often violated his own rules. he had been working all hours of the early morning on a job, thus the reason he was still asleep so late in the evening, but he still should have been up hours ago. whereas everyone else was most likely do as he instructed, carson was lazing about. typical. rolling out of his rather uncomfortable bed, he glanced down at the clothes he had fallen asleep in. had they not been splattered with the blood of a nasty little vampire woman, he would have worn them for the third day in a row. but alas, he was forced to change. aside from his attire looking slightly cleaner, it was difficult to tell he had changed at all….nearly always wearing the same damn simple thing.

the hunter ran a hand along his classic car, checking for any signs that she had been abused. seeing nothing, to his satisfaction, he clambered in and set off to his destination. there was no mission in particular on his mind, but the night always left opportunity for work. road rage traced the edges of his mind as he followed the moron in front of him who was going too slow for his liking. it would have been easy enough for him to walk to the bar a few blocks away from his motel, but he couldn’t risk leaving his baby behind. parking near the back of a bar he frequented often, carson gave himself a moment to think. with this war waging, this supernatural war, he should have had his focus upon other things. but for now, he just wanted a damn drink. was that so much to ask for?

there were very few occasions in which carson paused to think about the lives of the supernatural. his life, thoughts, and actions were focused upon killing tactics, seeking out headquarters, and destroying as many beasts as possible. he had failed to examine the lives of such beings more carefully ; their lives, families, relationships. fuck that, carson didn’t give a damn. however, it was every now and then that he found himself pausing to contemplate what exactly was so appealing about leading an eternal life. many of the egotistical bastards brooded over the fact that their life would never come to an end. while it did have its perks, carson was one hundred percent content with the idea of one day dropping off the face of the earth. in fact, death was something that comforted him. understanding that the world could go to hell once he passed on was something that allowed him to sleep at night. after all, as soon as his time was extinguished in this business, he’d have to pass the job onto someone else. god knew no one was going to be as worthy as him(or so his ego thought) but eventually the day would come. furthermore, carson enjoyed the idea that he would never struggle to find some way to occupy his time. he’d have his days of boredom, sure, but he wouldn’t have to live day after endless day wondering what the next would bring. sure, he could contract some terrible disease or take a bullet to the heart and it would be over just like that. frankly, the thought didn’t bother him. in the end, each day of eternity was the same. thank god for being mortal.

it hadn’t taken him long to saunter through the bar, knowing it’s layout far too well. sitting at the back helped to release some of the vivid aggression that was clearly emulating from him. at least from his location, he could avoid most of the insolence he was bound to run into. he threw back his glass of alcohol before ordering yet another and letting the whiskey sting the back of his throat. with the tolerance he had built up over the years, carson knew how long it would take to fall off his rocker and he didn’t expect it to be anytime soon – especially not after three glasses. typically his thought process swapped back and forth between seeking out any supernatural beings and finding a feisty woman for the night. yet, it was someone else who had caught his attention: connor.

there were many things and people that carson hawk hated….aside from just the supernatural realm. simply put, he didn’t get along well with most. he was volatile and egotistical and didn’t give a damn who knew it. outside of his little circle of close friends and family (which was very little), he didn’t care if the world burned. in the case of connor mcmurphy, he didn’t see much exception. the guy was good looking (which rivaled carson so it pissed him off) and fairly skilled at his job. thus, he was nothing more than a threat to carson. mind you, he was skilled enough himself but that didn’t mean jealousy didn’t run high. this was his turf, as far as he was concerned, and he wasn’t going to let mcmurphy tramps all over it.

slamming his glass on the worn table top, carson forced himself to stand and march to the bar. he had been watching connor’s little charade with the darts and was nonetheless not amused, only further irritating him. he had been halfway to his destination when he saw the bartender flirting with the irish man, nearly causing carson to erupt. oh no, that was just not going to fly. this was a favorite spot of carson’s and that bartender had been a favorite of his too. she was ditzy but knew how to spread her legs…perfect for him. not wanting to raise attention around them, carson sat in the other empty seat next to the man, growling under his breath. ”what are you doing here, mcmurphy?” he glanced over at him briefly but returned his gaze forward…he didn’t deserve his full attention. ”last time i checked, i had this city under control.” carson was acting as though he were a vampire with a stronghold over the city….or a lycan defending his territory. in reality, all he was a hunter looking for a power trip. ”i hate your voice, you know that?” blunt as he was, it was clear he was just searching for insults now. asshole.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

tagged - - - connor!
notes - - - sorry for the rambling.
lyrics - - - the way of the fist ,, five finger death punch.
word count - - - 1135.

[/blockquote]

[CONNOR DEVLIN MCMURPHY]

WITH MY FATE, MY THOUGHTS ERASE
MY HEADS A BLUR, THE PICTURE FADES

• • • • • • •

So far the night had gone remarkably well, Murph cleaned up with those idiots he hustled, he was now in possession of blondies number and this place had Guinness; it was a beautiful thing. Hell, now that he had a bit of time to calm down and reflect on the day, he’d go so far as to say that the whole day was just golden. It was mostly a slack day, in between jobs type of thing. Usually when he was in between jobs in a town he’d skip it and go onto the next one traffic light town. After all big bads never rest, and what was that American saying? Aint no rest for the wicked? Yeah, well that was exactly what it was always like. No rest what so ever, always on the job and doing this, that and the other thing. Okay, well maybe that’s not entirely true, seeing as when he slumming it at bars, finding himself eyeball deep in booze and snatch; well he aint really working now is he? Of course, he deserves a break here and there. what hunter did not? It was a tough gig, covered in blood from the day you’re born to the day you die. And who knows if the blood is yours or not? Mostly it gets blurred between lines; that should not have been crossed in the first place. But hey, he guessed that without this big bads he wouldn’t be currently employed. Not that hunting pays particularly well, it however, is not without its perks.

Guns, chicks and adrenaline pumping through your system, what more could a guy ask for? Well, easy snatch is what he always asked for. Not that he ever really had to work for it, he knew he was good looking and his accent usually clinched it; without much effort on his part. Like molly, or Maggie, whatever the bartenders name was, she was practically falling over the bar onto his lap; not that he minded. Murph brought his pint up to his lips, taking a long swallow as he watched the bartender over the rim of his glass. Even though she was down the bar dealing with some fat, drunk, old guy, he couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes darted over to him ever chance they got. The blued eyed Irishman appreciated the ego stroking and thought that he would much rather have something else stroked.

He set his glass down on the table, motioning her over with a wave of his hand. Eagerly she bounced on over, his eyes trained on her cleavage that seemed to grow every time she came over. sweetheart, ‘ows about another pint? he drawled slowly, his accent shining through even more. Shameless this boy was, he was never above using what he had to get what he wanted. Even if it seemed like he was taking advantage. It wasn’t his fault that she was practically salivating at the sight of him. Murphy grinned to himself as her little pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips, his thoughts running wild at the thought of what else she could do with that tongue. As she set the newly poured pint down he opened his mouth to ask what time she would like to get off tonight, when he spotted something out of his peripheral vision. Carson Hawk.

Murphy resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the boy stormed over, his laser vision set on destruction, which appeared to be trained in his direction. Raising his glass to his lips he took another swallow, watching as the bull in the metaphorical china shop stomped his way over and plopped down next to him. Murphy waited for the guy to let out his angry snipes and biting remarks, dude was not exactly the most pleasant to talk to. And he apparently had a hard on for Murphy. good to see you too Hawk. he bit out sarcastically, nerves getting tweaked at all this bravado bullshit. Murphy could understand a bit of a rivalry, but Carson seemed to take it to a whole other level. That’s not to say Murphy didn’t get where the dude was coming from, because he did. He knew just exactly how good Hawk was at his job and how the guy was also something of a looker, much to Murphs dismay. It was just another thing that put him in competition with this brooding alpha male.

A sharp laugh sounded from Murphy at Hawks attempt to start shit, clearly the guy was just looking for a fight now. Rolling his shoulders Murphy faced his profile to Carson, even if the boy was purposely facing away from him. If Hawk wanted to act like the petulant jackass he was then he supposed Murphy could indulge him. whats the matter Hawk? Afraid’f a litt’e friendly competition? murphy said, a grin curling around his lips. I mean shit, yo’re the big bad Carson Hawk, aint yah? the blue eyed Irishman paused for a moment, taking a drink, at an attempt for nonchalance. Murph wasn’t going to let Hawk think that he cared anything for him; even if there was a little bit of jealously, perhaps even admiration from Murph to Hawk. don’t ‘ell me yo’re afraid of a little old limey stealin’ all yo’r fame’n’glory? he provoked, eyes sparking. that’s it aint it? he continued, full blow smirk on his lips as he stared at Hawk.

Undoubtedly Carson Hawk was thus far his biggest completion in the hunting game, well on this side of the planet anyway. Hell, before he even got off the boat he had heard rumors and whispers of the Hawk name. Father, two sons, all three a force to be reckoned with; or so he heard. So far he’d only met Carson and as much as Murph would like to think the legend precedes the man, it simply isn’t true. The male in front of him was everything that the legend said he was and for that a slow simmering jealousy burned in his stomach, threatening to slither up his throat and crawl right out of his mouth, tangled around cutting words. However, he swallowed that back down with a swig of his stout, willing himself to think that just maybe he had something of a reputation like that building; because wouldn’t that just piss Hawk off even more.

EYES, THEY KEEP ON SHUTTING DOWN
CAN'T SEE WHY YOU WONT FIGURE ME OUT

• • • • • • •

• Word Count:1072
  
• Status: Complete!
  
• Tag: Emily/Carson
  
• Notes: dont worry, ramblyness makes the post, really helps people learn about the characters.
  
• Music: Rhythm Machine

[CARSON MICAH HAWK ,]

YOU MIGHT WIN ONE BATTLE
BUT KNOW THIS, I'LL WIN THE FUCKING WAR
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

carson was born in a small, middle-of-nowhere sort of place, so he more than understood what it meant to have a bit of a dry spell. in fact, many of the hunters he knew had those quite often. it was lack of work in their communities that brought them elsewhere, like here, in san diego. he was not a native to california and even now, in nearly two years of working around the area, he still failed to call himself a citizen. yes, he had indeed lived out of shabby motels for the last two years. frankly, he didn’t mind. in never having a place to really call home here, he lived a carefree life. he had his brother to look after here and there, but for the most part, he was free and clear of all loose ends. there was no woman for him to love(there were plenty that loved on him, though), no children to care for, and no house to tend to. instead, carson looked after his sweet ass car and his own behind…simple enough.

but even so, the latter part of his list tended to get a bit difficult at times. he worked alone, mostly, with the exception of a few hunters in the area that he directed, so one could imagine how hectic things got for him. though he would never call vampires or demons smart, he had to admit that they had the right idea in coming to a place like san diego…or new york…detroit….any major city, really. with organized crime among mortals so high, it was easy for a kill at the hands of supernatural beings to go unnoticed. but he knew. and it was that that kept him in business, in this crazy ass town.

many of the hunters he chose to work with here those who he had known for years…many of which knew him when he was a young boy. in his father’s death, he had left young carson with an arsenal of contacts to get in touch with had things ever gone south. in this time of chaos, many had sought out carson hawk for their more difficult jobs and tasks, knowing that he could help them. it was safe to say, that throughout the country, carson had a good feel for many of them. and while most he did not like or care to be around for extended periods of time, he could at least admit that they were worthy of respect. but this guy, mcmurphy, well, he just pushed carson’s buttons. no matter what, he couldn’t shake the feeling of wanting him to fall into a deep, dark hole. wouldn’t that be lovely?

it was well known among the crowd that carson hawk was quite the ladies man…and not always in the best way. he used women, all women, and then threw them away. mind you, he was all for saving them when they were in danger, but that was a different story. when it came to his drunken self, he always had sex on his mind….and he wouldn’t stop until he achieved his goal. it wasn’t difficult for him to reel in his catch, usually, so the worries were taken out of that. he’d offer a few charming words to whoever he had his eye on and usually, that was that. sometimes, he didn’t even have to go as far as to try. like the woman behind the counter…she was an easy lay. all he had to do was plant his ass on his usual bar stool and keep quite. as long as he stuck around until bar close, he was sure to always have her company after her shift. he half expected the same on this particular night but it was clear that that wasn’t necessarily going to be the case. carson in no way, shape, or form cared about the blonde, but he did care that she was flirting with that bastard Irishman. wasn’t it bad enough he marched all over carson’s city? now he had to go after his one-nighters too? of course, carson couldn’t be too sure that’s where things were headed but he was irrational all the same.

connor mcmurphy was certainly not the first of his type that carson had come across, even with the hunters. overall, he hadn’t seemed like a bad guy, but that didn’t mean carson hated him any less. honestly, he couldn’t put his finger on one specific reason for his uncalled for hate, but it was often clear how ridiculous he was being. generally speaking, carson was cool and collected, relying on sarcasm. but when it came to this guy, he let the inner child within him throw tantrums…something that was not all that befitting on him. ”oh i know what manner it would be good to see you in.” he muttered under his breath, pondering the thought of the guy in a coffin. okay, so maybe he didn’t want him dead, but he did want him out of his town. he had given carson no reason not to trust him, but there was something about him that wasn’t settling to him. he tapped his hand on the bar top, getting the attention of the blonde who blushed at his flustered expression. ”what, forgetting about me already?” he was clearly agitated, letting it drip through his words. the bartender muttered some sort of an apology as she placed a short glass of whisky in front of him, all the while still making it clear she was interested in this newcomer.

he took a sip of his drink, ignoring the fact that murphy had turned toward him. he had no intentions of giving him the respect of directly facing him until he heard what murphy had to say. he couldn’t help but chuckle through his glass, setting it down after a moment. she turned his face toward the guy, but made no other indications of being open toward him. ”last time i checked, you have to actually have some skills in order to be considered competition.” he didn’t know all that much about the irishman, but had noted he did a fine job of cleaning up after himself…not that carson would ever praise him for that. ”you don’t know a damn thing about me.” if mcmurphy was thinking he was going to befriend carson, he was totally wrong. then again, flattery would get anyone anywhere with carson hawk. still, carson knew better than to assume he was complimenting him, instead, he was being coy.
carson took another sip of his whisky, throwing the remaining liquids back before slamming the glass on the bar top. ”who the fuck do you think you are?” he could feel his temper flaring, turning to full glare at his opponent. ”this ain’t a joke to me….i didn’t get in this business for shits and giggles, murphy. if that’s what you’re after, you’re out of your league.” he was always one hundred percent serious about what he did and frankly took offense to those who joked about, well, anything. carson leaned in close to murphy, making it appear to the rest of the bar that he was chatting with a close friend. ”i’m warning you…back off, or i’ll have your head on a platter just as if you were a damn lycan.” with that, he straightened himself in his seat, ordering himself a fifth, and rather unnecessary drink. "half the time i can't even understand what you're saying. why do people find that attractive? fucking foreigners...." yep, just another childish stab.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

tagged - - - connor!
notes - - - blahhh, next one will be better.
lyrics - - - the way of the fist ,, five finger death punch.
word count - - - 1236.

[/blockquote]

[CONNOR DEVLIN MCMURPHY]

WITH MY FATE, MY THOUGHTS ERASE
MY HEADS A BLUR, THE PICTURE FADES

• • • • • • •

Leave it to a pompous schmuck like hawk to swoop down and fuck up a perfect ending to a perfect day. Here he was, basically just waiting for this blonde to get off work so that he could meet her in the back alley, or her place, because he didn’t take broads back to his place, and that plan was slowly unfurling. Thanks to carson. Asshole. Like seriously, this guy, in murphs opinion needed a good ass whoopin’ and fast to put him in check. This whole ‘im the boss, its my way or the highway, fuckface’ routine may fly with everyone else who was in the know about things that went bump in the night, but it was quickly wearing murphs patience thin. Thus far he had attempted to steer clear from the guy, which had worked out rather well so far. San Diego was a huge city, it was easy for him to pick a quadrant opposite to the one hawk was in. However, he wasn’t about to set out feelers and have someone report every time carson fucking breathed. That would just be stupid and a waste of resources; though he cant say the idea isn’t tempting. Besides, the irshman figured that when their paths crossed they would be able to at least act like fucking adults. Apparently not, he forgot what it was like dealing with people who act their shoe size instead of their age.

None the less, he was going to attempt to deal with this situation in his standard fashion. Which was to play nice, make everything a joke and try to wheedle and coax carson into at least tolerating him. This tactic usually worked with most and if his charming personality did not work, well he’d usually offer to fuck them; he didn’t think that hawk would take too kindly to that though. Besides that murph had grown attached to this smelly city and thought he might like to set up camp here for a while. Hell maybe even rent some hole in the wall for next to nothing, that way he would have a place that wasn’t a roach infested motel to bring his lay of the days to. While it was not ideal and nothing like the lush green isle of home that he yearned for, it simply was not an option to go back to the Emerald Isle. He had checked in about a week and half ago with a contact of his and she had told him that people were still on the lookout for him, something about needing to square up some debts that were on him. That being all the information he needed murph cut the call short and told her not to mention him and steer clear of anything that might have his name on it. Clearly even after these past couple years people were still not pleased with how he just up and left, too fucking bad.

Murph was pulled from his reverie as hawk muttered something into his drink, causing murph to raise an eyebrow. sorry, ay can’t un’erstand yah when yah speak inta yo’r drink like tha’. He stated, biting back a grin. No doubt the comment was not intended for him to be able to hear it, which was exactly why murph needed to reply to it; he knew it would grind the pretty boys gears. The blonde shook his head as hawk snapped at the bartender, poor girl. ’ey no need ta be snappish with the lady, shes real good a’ wha’ she does. murph commented, sending a wink towards the poor flustered girl. He grinned when she sent him a grateful smile. ya’ get further with ‘em when yo’re nice ta them. he said while directing his gaze back to hawk, who was shooting back his whisky with force. Poor guy probably needed to get laid. Oh, murph shifted his gaze back to the bartender who was having a decidedly hard time trying to figure out which of the two males she should devote her attention to. Obviously she had hooked up with hawk before and enjoyed the familiar, but here was murphy, something exotic and unfamiliar. The blue eyed boy shook his head lightly, smirk tugging at his lips at the thought. Here the two of them were, attempting to go home with the same girl, one of them was walking away with nothing, while either way she was going to end up lucky. How funny.

Once again his attention was brought to hawk as he opened his mouth, no doubt to unleash another slew of insults. Whatever, murphy had broad shoulders, he could take it. Of course he was only going to stand for so much before he really go into it with the man. oww, oww. Ms, ‘an I get some ice fer tha’ burn? murphy drawled sarcastically at hawks first comment. If this was the best hawk got then maybe murph would walk ougghta here not wanting to bust some heads in. Taking a sip from his stout murph kept mum at the second comment, mostly because it was true. He really did not know much about hawk, only what was passing through the hunting circle. He presumed that any information circling was what hawk wanted circling as well.

Murph set his glass down on the bar top once carson finally decided to show him some fucking respect and face him. His da’ always said that if a man didn’t have the respect to face you when talking then he wasn’t worth the words. Murphy kept his gaze level, watching closely as hawks temper seemed to flare up another notch; hell he was pretty sure steam was about to start spilling from the males ears. At the comment murphy frowned, his eyebrows knitting together, blue eyes darkening slightly; he didn’t need a lecture on how serious hunting was, he knew. ‘ho tha fuck d’ya think you are? murphy returned, all cheeriness gone from his voice now. yah don’ know a damn thing abo’t me either. he continued, throwing hawks own words back in his face. Not only did they have the benefit of being true, but the fact that he turned that shit around on him was bound to strike a match.

When carson made to move in murph stiffened, back ramrod straight, jaw clenched as he resisted the overwhelming urge to turn away and bare his neck; as if he were nothing more than some lycan pup submitting to an alpha. There would be no way in hell he would show this asshole any sort of submission, it would be like admitting to him that carson was superior. Fuck that. The threat hummed idle in murphys ears, he did not take kindly to that shit. With narrowed eyes he opened his mouth to tell the fuck just exactly that when he abruptly ordered a fifth, preceding another insult to his accent. His lips twitched at that, most of the tension slowly draining from his body as he regarded hawk. If he exploded he would surely be playing into carsons hand, he needed to do this his way. last time someone got tha’ closeta me they sucked my dick. he began, his eyes twinkling with delight. I mean, yer enough of a looker and ya’ got real purdy lips he continued in a fairly accurate southern drawl, as if he was some sort of hillybilly pervert. ya don’ gotta use this ‘hole alpha male ‘ook at me act he paused to reach out and squeeze the other males biceps’. ay can see that yer a big boy from a mile away he finished as he dropped his hand to his side, a wide smirk on his lips.if yah wanna suck my dick, all ya gotta do is get on ya knees, pretty boy. If that did not get him punched in the face, well carson has more control than murphy ever would have given him credit for.

EYES, THEY KEEP ON SHUTTING DOWN
CAN'T SEE WHY YOU WONT FIGURE ME OUT

• • • • • • •

• Word Count:1330
  
• Status: Complete!
  
• Tag: Emily/Carson
  
• Notes: it was great, dont worry! I loved it
  
• Music:Miss Murder

[CARSON MICAH HAWK ,]

YOU MIGHT WIN ONE BATTLE
BUT KNOW THIS, I'LL WIN THE FUCKING WAR
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

a kick in the ass probably would have done carson some good….maybe. it wasn’t that he couldn’t ever be a pleasant person to be around, but rather that he knew just the wrong time to appear and be a major butthead. the way he looked at it, he was doing all of humanity a public service – killing off the things that wanted to kill them. being that it was hardwired into his childhood, he might as well keep up with the family business, right? truth was, he had had his ass handed to him time and time again but he always managed to come out on top…at least by some means. in fact, it was coming back from being beaten within an inch of his life which gave him and even greater power stroke. without really caring what the world thought of him, he was out to prove that he was the best. didn’t make much sense, but such was carson hawk. understanding the guy was just far too much work that anyone cared to get their hands on. and even then, his wicked personality was just too much of a clusterfuck to analyze. so even in his attempts to protect humanity, he made it very clear around his group who was in charge. no one acted without his say so and no one jumped without asking how high first. perhaps that was why he despised mcmurphy so….he couldn’t get him under his reign.

though it was hard to believe, carson did have his genuine moments. he himself liked to joke around, usually in a sexual manner, and sure as hell enjoyed being the center of attention. when he was feeling it, he was no short of compliments to the fairer sex and enjoyed your typical game of bar dice or pool. but as of late, that carson hawk was hard to come by. seldom had the citizens of san diego seen him in a favorable mood and more frequently were catching him in the foul one. truth be told, he was uncertain what this supernatural war had in store for them all. though much of it was centrally located in the heart of his city right here, he knew it expanded throughout the entire country. if he couldn’t destroy the nests here, in california, there would be no hope for any of his kind. the pressure that had been laid upon him, mostly by himself, was a bit more than he could handle as of late. and so, to counteract the crushing weight of the world on his shoulders, he amped up the booze and flings. though they were both only temporary fixes to his problems, he was glad to have those two options all the same.

”now you must know how i feel talking to all the bastards like you…last time i checked, this was america.” if there was one thing carson was thankfully not, it was racist. he had seen the fair share of immigrants, most illegal, that had made their home in this country and he frankly didn’t care. why shouldn’t they be given a fair chance at life. not to mention, couldn’t let the chupacabras eat them all down in mexico. so generally speaking, mister hawk did not have a problem with people who spoke in accents. of course, unless it was this guy’s. carson had run out of things to be irritated about, so he decided to stick with the cultural difference aspect tonight. ”oh yeah, she’s good at what she does.” he grinned to himself, knowing full well that she was a decent little fox. ”if you really want my sloppy seconds, murphy, be my guest.” there were other outlets in the bar that carson could explore, and even though this one was easy, he could let it go. he’d be perfectly content in thinking that the blonde would regret her decision later. just as with all things relating to killing, knives, or guns, carson took pride in his bedroom skills.

carson was not a stupid man. though he made some incredibly idiotic decisions in his personal life, he was intelligent. he had never done well in school, as he was more of a hands-on type of guy. when it came down to it, he had the street smarts to kill. he was talented with planning out tactical measures and quick thinking when in a sticky situation. thus, with having so much knowledge under his belt, one would have thought he would be wise enough to know when someone helpful was sitting right next to him. he had seen little from connor mcmurphy and knew only what he had been told from asking around. he probably would have been a great asset to carson, had he given him the chance, but it would be a cold day in hell before that happened.

though he should have been upset with murphy’s words, carson couldn’t help but feel slightly accomplished. from the moment he had spotted the Irishman in his bar, he had been set off into a rather unpleasant tangent. from there, he had continued to push carson’s buttons and irritate him even further. of course, it was carson who often made this an easy task for others, but that was besides the point. in hearing the twinge of agitation from the foreign voice, carson felt pleased. a smirk tugged at the corner of his features, making it all too visible to the opponent beside him. ”oh, i know who i am. i’m the hunter who’s been working this town for the last two god damn years. i’m quite good looking, if you haven’t noticed, and i always get the woman. good enough for explanation for you? or shall i elaborate?” he had gotten just the boost he needed to become the little sarcastic fuck people hated so much. he was all about being serious, as his father had taught him, so he might was well indulge in this brief moment.

the smirk quickly faded from his lips as murphy began to ramble on about sexual favors. he knew it was all just a ploy to get a rise out of him, but dammit, it was working. ”i normally don’t judge…but i don’t want to hear about any of your little queer fantasies. is that what you irishmen are all about? can’t get enough of it overseas so you gotta come here and solicit me?” he growled at the other male, trying to keep his anger shielded…though he was doing a poorly. it wasn’t until murphy laid a hand on him that carson felt the need to react. within a moment’s notice, he was up from his barstool, his father’s old knife in his hand and pressed to connor’s throat.

”expecting a fist, were you?” he grinned sadistically, enjoying the moment until he realized all of the bar’s patrons were staring at him. it had gone quiet quickly, almost like you could hear the crickets chirping, had there been any. he removed lowered his hand, stabbing the point of the blade into the bar counter before re-seating himself and returning to his drink. he sipped at it, muttering a ”fucking irish prick.” under his breath. he was always one to make a scene, just not always in the best of ways. actually, never in the best of ways.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

tagged - - - connor!
notes - - - boop.
lyrics - - - the way of the fist ,, five finger death punch.
word count - - - 1225.

[/blockquote]

[CONNOR DEVLIN MCMURPHY]

WITH MY FATE, MY THOUGHTS ERASE
MY HEADS A BLUR, THE PICTURE FADES

• • • • • • •

Murphy suspected that perhaps dealing with Carson in the usual way might be just more hazardous to his health that normal. Sure, murph liked to think that he was pretty good at reading people, simply for the fact that he was still alive and kicking. After all, you probably wouldn’t get very far in the world of hunting if you didn’t have a decent grasp on reading other people or situations. Murph was pretty good at it, quick thinker, fast on his feet and easily adaptable. He could really go with the flow, except when he deliberately chose to fuck it up with some improvisation and well that never went well. More than a few times he had barely made it out alive, dripping in sweat and blood as he dragged himself out of whatever cesspool he had been in. But that must have said something about him if he was still alive to this day, guess it made him tough and badass; or just lucky as hell. Either way the stories had done nothing but stroke his ego and build it up, which while good for his self-esteem it isn’t usually good for his skin; people get a bit…violent sometimes.

Now, he felt like this situation with hawk was probably going to get a little violent, after all he could practically see the American shaking with rage. At the most murph figured they would get into a brawl, kicked out of the bar and each of them would end up with their fair share of bruises. Especially since he gathered that hawk did not much care for his particular brand of humor, or how he seemed to turn everything into a joke. The American clearly just needed to get a sense of humor, poor guy looked like he was constipated, all frowns and narrowed eyes. Seriously, dude needed to lighten up and murphy took that as an invitation to help the lad out. After all, he was all about helping people, and while he was quiet sure that hawk could take care of himself in any other situation, he thought this was one area where he might need to call in some reinforcements. Or rather have reinforcements…forced upon him; he thought hawk was more of the lone wolf type. Whereas murphy was a total pack guy, working with other people was nice, mostly, it was always reassuring to know that you could have someone there to watch your back.

Murph rolled his eyes skyward at the prejudice comment. “aye, fuck you. I’m an improvement to this shithole country. he shot back, a teasing grin on his face. While he was slightly insulted at the fact that he was insulting his heritage, he couldn’t really bring himself to care enough to actually stay angry. Fingering his pint glass he found himself once again rolling his eyes as hawk opened his mouth, this time though he managed to not only insult murph but also the blonde bartender. He flicked his gaze to the bartender, who was pretending not to listen while stacking glasses behind the bar, she wore a slight frown on her lips. If he wasn’t mistaken actually looked a little hurt at the comment. insult me all yah want, but leave the lady ou’ of it aye? he stated, it being a rhetorical request. Murph didn’t really care if the American wanted to insult him, but the blonde didn’t deserve any of his shit; she probably had enough issues as it was.

The Irsishmans lips twisted into a displeased frown as carson bragged about how good of a hunter he was, how he was just a hunk who got all the babes and this, that and the other thing. Murph regretted even giving the American a little bit of displeasure to get off on. Clearly it didn’t take much for the guy in front of him to turn into a sarcastic little prick, on top of being a pompous asshole. Still though, he didn’t have to give him any more ammunition, so instead of biting back with some asinine comment he merely batted ridiculously long eye lashes and made like he was swooning over carson and his words. ohh, don’t you sound dreamy. okay, so maybe one little asinine comment wouldn’t hurt.

Instantly murphy noticed the attitude change in the hunter before him, he knew it wouldn’t be long before murphys tactics drove him off the edge. It never did take long for the tables to turn, but this felt extremely fast. Usually he enjoyed some more playful banter; of course he had never met such a tight ass like hawk before. But hey, there is always a first time for everything, isn’t there? A full blown smirk blossomed across his pink lips, eyes sparkling with delight as hawk ground out what he thought was going to be insulting. In truth murphy did not care one little bit if he was called a fairy, queer, gay, whatever. He had an open mind and hey, sometimes men were a better lay than women were. sugar, aye think ya need ta work on ya sweet talk a bit more. Loose the malice he returned through a small chuckle, barely containing his glee at the sight of hawk practically shaking with anger.

The next turn of events shocked murphy, caught him off guard even, which was not an easy task. Before the Irishman could even blink hawk had closed the distance and had a knife perilously close to his throat. At the Americans question he shifted minutely in his seat, testing for give in case carson got anymore wise ideas. As it was murphy barely managed to get his hand around the man’s wrist, not that he had much leverage at this point in time anyway. With hawk standing and him sitting, as much as murphy hated to admit it, hawk had all the leverage and unless murph wanted to kick him in the balls, which was used only as a last resort, he pretty much had to wait for hawk to let him go. As hawk moved back murphy dropped his hands to his side, wide blue eyes glued to the knife as he watched him stab it into the bar top; barely resisting the urge to flinch, half expecting the knife to be imbedded in his thigh. After hawks aggressive display he wouldn’t have been surprised.

The americans voice snapped him out of his stupor, he blinked once and reached his hand up to subconsciously caress his neck where the knife had been. He knew that hawk was a hot head, but he didn’t think he was that fucking insane, to pull a knife on him in a bar full of other people; who were now just going back to their own business. Murps tongue darted out to moisten his lips as he collected himself, not that he was all that scared of the guy in front of him, after all he faced creatures far greater than this man in front of him and barely batted an eye. He supposed it was just the surprise of it all, it was so swift and hawk had given little to no indication at all; which was scary all in itself he guessed. Slowly enough a hesitant, but teasing smile turned his lips up, makes me all tingly when ya take control like tha’ Sure, murph was probably testing his luck, with that comment, but hey he loved to live dangerously. Shifting his blue eyes to the knife, he quickly reached out and plucked it from its place in the bar top, admiring it. It was a little old sure, but it looked like the guy took care of it, so he could appreciate it. nice knife. ‘olds a bit of sentimental value aye I guess? he asked while testing the weight of it, blue eyes flicking up to meet carsons cool green.

EYES, THEY KEEP ON SHUTTING DOWN
CAN'T SEE WHY YOU WONT FIGURE ME OUT

• • • • • • •

• Word Count:1322
  
• Status: Complete!
  
• Tag: Emily/Carson
  
• Notes: supernatural reference, lool.
  
• Music:Lola

[CARSON MICAH HAWK ,]

YOU MIGHT WIN ONE BATTLE
BUT KNOW THIS, I'LL WIN THE FUCKING WAR
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

pretty much everything about carson hawk pointed to the fact that he was a walking contradiction. he never wanted to be tied down to anyone, but got jealous when another guy went after a foolish fling he had spent one night with…for example. but perhaps the greatest of carson’s contradictions was that of his personality. hell, maybe he was just bipolar. in one sense, he was very easy to read and equally simple to judge his character. he was explosive and childish, always seeking out things that benefited purely himself…at least for the most part. but just when someone had him figured out, carson’s unpredictability came into play. it was quite confusing, really. just when you began to think that he was thinking only for himself, carson would surprise you. those instances were few and far between, but not nonexistent. his wing typically only extended over his family, his brother, but others had managed to tug at his heartstrings. he was the wild card in the deck, always ready to throw a curve ball in the wrong direction. as much of a selfish asshole as he usually was, carson liked to think he was doing the city a public service…and though he demanded the highest of reverie. after all, he was a hawk.

it was safe to say that carson hawk was clearly not like the rest of his family. his father had spent his entire life working, hardly having time for his family. when it wasn’t the auto shop, it was something else. sure, he wasn’t a horrible guy….he never laid a hand on his children, or anything like that, but he wasn’t exactly a role model. carson far from hated the guy, however. instead, he doted upon him, always seeking his approval but never receiving it. it was his own father who made him never want to have kids of his own. that and the fact that he wasn’t the settling down type of guy. it was bad enough carson and devon grew up in the lifestyle they had, let alone carson himself making those same choices. and as for his brother, well, it was hard to believe they were even siblings. devon chose to avoid such a life completely, spending his time looking for love and choosing a well-paying career. carson couldn’t blame him, and in fact, almost envied him. but it didn’t matter, the hunting circles needed him. he could not allow himself the luxuries of such silly daydreams. because that’s all they were…daydreams of things he would never acquire.

yes, there were many things that set carson off. often times, it was things that he didn’t necessarily even care about on a regular basis, but the person speaking was the issue. in the case of his country, carson had his own widely-spoken opinions. he had grown up in a small town with a nice white picket fence, where he and his father would play catch in the backyard. they had a yellow lab and ate dinner together every night. a life like that was almost too sweet…something that made people want to vomit. but yes, carson was once your typical all-american boy. upon hearing murphy’s comment, hawk tensed up once more. ”hardly what i’d call an improvement….more like a parasite. go back to where you came from, you fuckin’ foreigner.” it was bad enough they let him in this country…let alone him dissing it. he was all about his classic car, pie, and television – typical american things, when he could find time for them. ”i think we’ll be okay here without your awesome skills.” he didn’t know him well enough to know if he was good or not….all he knew were the muddled rumors. the same probably went for carson.

”i’m not trying to impress a damn fool like you…merely put you in your place, seeing as you don’t seem to know it. why don’t you leave the scum of this city up to the professionals.” what a liar. okay, so maybe he wasn’t trying to necessarily impress connor, but instead show how important he was. most people had the problem of bragging and not being able to live up to their words. carson, on the other hand, went above and beyond in the line of work….but just didn’t know when to shut up about it. i mean really, that’s not all people wanted to hear about all the time. but try telling that to a hawk.

all carson had wanted for this night was to get a little buzzed and perhaps go home with some feisty patron of the bar crowd. he didn’t feel like working too hard so he had his eyes set on young lady with low self esteem. they always seemed to chase after him and did more than their fair share of work in the bedroom…easy enough for him. of course, that wasn’t going to happen with his current predicament. yes, it could be argued that carson didn’t have to brood over the situation or approach murphy. but who would he be if hadn’t been a total ass? ”you’re no person to give advice.” he didn’t care what’ mcmurphy’s opinion of him was…he wasn’t going to be any more pleasant to him.

yep there went that wild card….okay, more like a ticking time bomb. as much as he enjoyed catching the irishman off guard and hopefully making him shit his pants, carson wouldn’t have acted any further unless necessary. he despised him, really for no reason, but didn’t wish him dead. the only thing worthy of that curse from him were the hellspawn of this earth. impaired forever, perhaps…but not dead. it was because of his lack of reason to do anything further that carson found himself seated once more. he had drawn unnecessary attention to himself and needed to stew now. he scowled as the bartender refused to serve him another drink, muttering with a shaky voice that he had had too much. ”fuck this place…nothing but assholes here.” he complained rather loudly, briefly ignoring the reaction of mcmurphy. he had to admit, it pleased carson to see him so put off. ”s’matter? did i scare you?” he grinned rather manically through his words.

watching as he picked up his knife, carson had half a mind to jump down his throat again. forcing himself to remain calm, he spoke through gritted teeth as the guy handled his weapon. he was lost momentarily in the moment, quite pleased that murphy was actually admiring something of his. ”it can kill demons, vampires, whatever have you.” he was pretty damn proud of that knife. it went above and beyond all his other weapons…being that it had supernatural qualities of its own. realizing he spoke too much, he reached over and snatched it from mcmurphy, stuffing it back in the inside pocket of his jacket. ”didn’t you ever learn to keep your greasy mitts off property that isn’t yours?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

tagged - - - connor!
notes - - - blah and sorry it took such a flippin' long time.
lyrics - - - the way of the fist ,, five finger death punch.
word count - - - 1156.

[/blockquote]

[CONNOR DEVLIN MCMURPHY]

WITH MY FATE, MY THOUGHTS ERASE
MY HEADS A BLUR, THE PICTURE FADES

• • • • • • •

Raising an eyebrow murph stared at the American, who was clearly see keen on judging murphy and who apparently thought he knew everything about the Irishman. Hawk sure as hell was talking like he knew shit, but maybe that was just the American way, talk a big game and hope no one calls your bluff. However, being that he was dealing with carson hawk, there was a distinct possibility that he could have actually know a few things about murphy. After all, if he wanted murphy assumed that hawk could have a profile drawn up on him in the blink of an eye. How much information would be in that profile was another story, after all he left his life in Ireland behind. He tried to cut any paper trail that linked him to his old life, but he did not exactly put all that much effort in to is; mostly because he was not so arrogant to think that someone was going to want to find out about him. Nontheless, this American certainly though that because murph was not of American decent he was clearly dirt beneath his shoe. Well fuck him.

perhaps insulting an all blooded American male and his beautiful country, the land of the free, brave and egotistical, as connor liked to add on, was not one of his best ideas. He was well aware of just how much pride these americans held for their country and the lengths that they would go to defending their apple pie, white picket fence way of life. It was no surprise that he produced such an aggressive reaction from the American in front of him, after all if there was going to be a poster boy for American it might as well be carson hawk. The male practically screamed ‘MERICAN! Right down from the almost military cut, to the handsome face, functional but stylish clothes and in your face, ‘im better than you’ attitude. Might as well slap his face on posters and start recruiting all of the other jackasses like him, not that there was not already a whole cult, or army of them; of course that was just murphs personal opinion and best left unsaid.

The americans did not take to kindly when he started insulting their military and all their ‘causes’. It usually ended in blood, if he was dealing with those who liked to think with their fists; the smarter ones usually brought up the IRA and well that was a whole other can of worms. ’ey, aye resent that! he whined. I’m a fuckin’ ‘merican citizen jus’ like you. Got tha documents ta prove it too he stated proudly. Of course those documents happen to be complete fakes, but hey, carson did not need to know that. insult me all yah like, one day yah might need ma awesome skills he added as almost an after thought. In this world it was probably a good idea to not burn bridges before you even crossed them, try telling that to hawk though; he did not seem to understand that concept.

Murph brought his glass up to his lips taking a generous sip of the dark liquid, enjoying the taste of Ireland, so to speak. This particular beer was about as close to home as he ever gets being over here in America. One sip and he can practically slip away to a better time and place, when his parents were alive and the only thing he had to worry about was watching their asses and killing big bads. Once again the American was able to pull him from his pleasant reverie, with another comment meant to make murphy feel insignificant next to hawk. Setting the glass down murph rolled his eyes, something that was slowly becoming a new habit. put me in ma place aye? Like to see yah try, arrogant jackass he muttered. The Irishman did not care if carson heard that comment or not, hell maybe the guy would take it as an invitation and they could move this little conversation outside. Murph was a little bit riled up, thanks to his earlier escapade with the darts and now with this less than pleasant encounter with hawk; maybe he’d be able to let some steam off.


murphy waved off carsons next comment with the one fingered salute and a smirk. If the arrogant prick did not want to take his advice now then fine, to each their own. He reckoned one day that carson was going to reject someone’s advice and it was really going to fuck him up, and at that point we’d see who was laughing. Of course that’s not to say he wouldn’t help the bastard out if he needed it, because he would, he would just be sure to rub it in afterwards. Add a little insult to injury, it might knock the fucker down a couple of pegs; putting him on the ground with the rest of the people on this planet.

The blue eyed man openly chuckled as the bartender refused to serve hawk another drink, serves him right. After that little pissing contest, which murphy grudgingly admits he lost, hawk, in his opinion was lucky enough not to be escorted out of here by a bouncer, if not the police. He supposed that most of the people recognized who he was and just what exactly he did, so he figured they didn’t want to piss him off and risk losing any potential service that he could offer; or they were all just too scared of the nut job to do anything. takes one ta know one he sing-songed childishly in response to the asshole comment; a bright smile on his lips. The smile faltered slightly as carson seemingly now choose to acknowledge murphs reaction to the whole incident. scared me down to ma core he bit out sarcastically. Murph wasn’t sure if he would use the word scared, because it took a lot to scare him. Intimidated might be the better choice, after all it took a lot of balls to pull a stunt like that. And anyone crazy enough to do that, well it was almost respectable, but most certainly intimidating. fuckin’ crazy sum’bitch he added, shaking his head.

Murphys interest peaked as carson explained what exactly the dinky knife could do; it was not as dinky as he originally thought. where’d yah get tha knife from? he inquired. Now he was really interested, especially since carson was acting like he was going to pocket the knife and walk out of the bar with it. He smirked and shook his head, my ma always tol’ me sharin’ is carin’ his ma had told him a lot of things growing up, and he was not even sure that this was one of them. besides, by you flashin’ tha’ thing around, makes a guy think tha you wan’ people admirin’ it and askin’ questions. Y’know, ta’ stroke tha’ oversized ego’a yers. he added, sending a playful wink in the Americans direction. don’ worry pretty boy, aye know how to handle guys like you he said through a laugh, all the while shaking his head slightly. Carson did not have a clue what he was in store for when he marched over and thought he was going to give him a piece of his mind.

EYES, THEY KEEP ON SHUTTING DOWN
CAN'T SEE WHY YOU WONT FIGURE ME OUT

• • • • • • •

• Word Count:1220
  
• Status: Complete!
  
• Tag: Emily/Carson
  
• Notes: no worries. I usually reply fairly fast, its just how I roll, so please dont feel the need to try and get up a reply asap. I understand that people have lives out side of rping. (:
  
• Music:After Ever After

[CARSON MICAH HAWK ,]

YOU MIGHT WIN ONE BATTLE
BUT KNOW THIS, I'LL WIN THE FUCKING WAR
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

it was true, carson liked knowing as much as possible about the people who surrounded him. for the most part, he was a good judge of character (funny, because his own character was such a crapshoot). before even speaking with the bartender upon their first meeting, he knew that she was a lonely woman who went home with any man who came her way…simply to have someone to hold her at night, even if only temporary. he knew the man a few seats down from him had grown tired of his cheating wife and frequented the pub often to drown his sorrows in a glass of whiskey. what he couldn’t tell from outward appearances, carson usually used his means of intel to gain access into the personal lives of others. other than asking a few questions, he had left the subject of connor mcmurphy alone thus far, but made a mental note in his head to look into him when he had the chance…or rather have someone do the dirty work for him. it wasn’t as though he had a weird vibe or wrong feeling toward him, but rather that he just didn’t care for him. there was no rhyme or reason to the ways of carson hawk…he was just himself. unfortunately.

really, his hunting skills were his only saving grace. sure, he was a handsome devil (self proclaimed, of course), but carson was abrasive on the surface and quite difficult to befriend. lucky enough for him, his group of so-called-companions put up with him merely because he was the best (also mostly self proclaimed, but partially true). without his guidance, the world would have been a little less safe…or at least this city. but no matter the instance, he saw to it that his things were protected. whether it was his partners, his family, or his damn city….carson hawk was going to make sure they were safe, even if it were just a verbal matter. it was bad enough that murphy to walk all over his territory, let alone throw out insults about the country while he was at it. perhaps he should go over to ireland and return the favor. seriously…they were worked up about a shortage of potatoes….or something like that. he let his thoughts get the best of him, shaking his head after the thought. that was silly…planes were a no-go for him.

”oh, is that so? so a little chat with my buddy over at immigration should confirm that, eh?” brow raised in suspicion, wondering if his little comment would worry mcmurphy at all. he doubted it, seeing as the bastard always appeared collected. now of course, carson really did not have a friend over at the immigration department but that hadn’t meant he couldn’t fake his authority. after all, that was how he, and many hunters, successfully got the information they needed. faking identification, falsifying titles, and donning imitated uniforms….it was the only way to get to the restricted areas of the job. ”you know, i don’t give a damn if you’re in this country…but at least have a little freakin’ respect. the least you could do is get outta my corner of it….like florida. florida’s nice….lots of problems there, i hear.” carson knew murphy wasn’t going to pack up and leave because he told him to, but a man could still dream. that was the glory of being an american. slightly buzzed now, carson’s temper was quickly fading, only to be replaced by dripping sarcasm and over exaggeration. he emitted a laugh at mcmurphy’s comment, glancing over at him. ”i’d rather ask a demon for help than accept anything from you….or cut off my own hand. that sounds much more pleasant.” the pigs could fly and hell could freeze over before he would ever ask for murphy’s help. period. surely if the tables were turned, however, carson would help the foreigner in a heartbeat. he never missed the opportunity to have something to hold over someone else’s head.

it was clear that carson hawk did not know how to handle people….or at least anyone without bedside manner. just about everyone was seen as a threat to him…or at least beneath him and this guy was no different. demons, vampires, and lycans – you name it, he could handle them. whether it was making a deal or tearing their souls from their bodies, carson had it covered. but when it came to guys like mcmurphy, carson was filled with nothing but awkward jealous and competitiveness. perhaps his life would have been much easier if he accepted that the entire world was not out to get him. the only problem with that was that his father had taught him otherwise: trust no one and fight for yourself. it was such thinking that had gotten him out of plenty of nasty situations…ones of which others would have been entrapped in. ”don’t tempt me. it’d be an easy battle to overcome.”

what did carson have to lose by pulling the knife on murphy. a night of freedom by landing the drunk tank? well, even he could have gotten out of that situation. truthfully, though, the unwanted attention was not something he could afford. he had lied his way into so many situations, both carelessly and serious, that it was in best interest to hide from the public eye. how he had not been picked up by the fbi or picked off by a sniper thus far had really seemed to elude him. he needed a reality check, a big one, to put him back into his place. someone to knock him off his high horse would have been just fantastic but with a track record like his, no one was willing to step up to the late. the fact that he was such an important asset to fighting this supernatural war didn’t help matters either. people knew they couldn’t afford to lose him; not now. he chuckled carelessly at murphy’s comment, waving it off with his hand. ”yeah, sure.” carson couldn’t say he wouldn’t have reacted the same had the roles been reversed…but it still pleased him. ”not very prepared for a so-called-hunter, are ya?”

”not only are you an annoying little prick, but you’re nosy as hell too. man, you just keep getting better, don’t ya?” carson knew he had opened his mouth and divulged too much information about the knife, but he couldn’t help but feel like he had to brag about it. even his closet of friends, and brother, were intrigued by it’s power. ”let’s just say i acquired it by ‘any means necessary’” the last thing he was going to admit was that a demon gave it to him. but that was a story for a different time. ”the real professionals in this trade have real tools, not swiss army knives and squirt guns.” truth be told, if murphy wanted to compare collections, the little kid inside him would be overjoyed. but for some reason, he didn’t feel like events were going to turn in that direction.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

tagged - - - connor!
notes - - - boop.
lyrics - - - the way of the fist ,, five finger death punch.
word count - - - 1173.

[/blockquote]

[CONNOR DEVLIN MCMURPHY]

WITH MY FATE, MY THOUGHTS ERASE
MY HEADS A BLUR, THE PICTURE FADES

• • • • • • •

the blonde raised an eyebrow to match that of hawks, his mask of cool indifference staying put on his face; he was not about to fold like a cheap suit and let hawk think he might have something over the Irishman. well shit, maybe we’ve got the same guy! he stated excitedly, a large grin on his face. what’s yer guys name? he inquired, tilting his head to the side slightly; curious. The best way, murph had decided, to deal with threats from the likes of carson, was to not show any fear or weakness and roll with the whole thing; all the while trying to steer the conversation to another topic. See, to murph, carson seemed almost like your typical school yard bully. Show him even an ounce of fear and it was all over, hawk would just feed on it to make murphs life miserable. This was not the first bully type murph had dealt with and he probably would not be the last, the award for most persistent and worst was up for grabs; and hawk was slowly clawing his way to the front of the pack. could ‘ave fooled me, what with tha constant jibes. he commented, fingering his almost empty glass. oh, don’t misunderstan’ me hawk, ay’ve got respect for ‘merica, just not fer you. he chirped, a smirk on his lips. but sure thin’ mr.hawk, right away, florida it is he mocked with a salute and a roll of his eyes. As if he was just going to pick up and leave because hawk did not like a little competition.

For what seemed like the umpteenth time that night murphy found his eyebrows raising at carsons chuckle, he did not even realize that the man was capable of laughter. He figured that grunting, growling and bitter words were the extent of carsons vocal abilities; you learn something new every day. look at that, yah can actually laugh. Aye didn’t think it was possible there he goes again, teasing and baiting the volatile guy. You’d think that murph liked putting his life on the line or something crazy like that; but hey life could end at any moment, might as well live a little. ouch, tha really hurts ma feelins’ he lamented, placing his hand over his heart, lip jutting out into a pout. why you gotta be so mean? he crooned out a lyric from taylor swifts mean, in a fairly decent voice to boot. While murphs bedside manner may have been a little annoying seeing as he could not take anything seriously, he figured he was still better company than hawk; who thus far had displayed terrible people skills. Then again, murph was still talking to the guy, so he supposed hawk wasn’t that bad; not that he was going to let the guy know.

Murphy outright laughed again at hawks comment, easy, ha! Muprhy was no slouch when it came to fighting, especially since he learned to protect himself basically as soon as he could walk. From then on he was thust into the world of hand to hand combat, learning various techniques, accumulating a vast knowledge of all types of fighting styles. So that he could hold his own in any situation that he might find himself in. That’s not to say hes a Jackie Chan or a Jet Li, but he’s fairly certain that against hawk he’d have a decent shot at putting the prick in his place. as much as you’d like me ta be an easy conquest, it aint gonna happen, sugar. was that tempting hawk enough? Probably not, the hot head seemed to have calmed down enough to just exchange spiteful words. Murphy would have to step up his game if he actually wanted to piss carson off enough to get him to start swinging his fists.

Grasping the pint glass in his hand he brought it up to his lips, swallowing down the last few mouthfuls before setting the glass back down. He caught the waitresses eye and sent her a smile, motioning for another one; she was happy to oblige. Murph sent a smug smirk in hawks direction, he was still able to get served; take that. All right, so that was a bit of a childish thought, but most of the time murphy acted like an overgrown five year old anyway, so it was not all that out of character. Licking his lips free of the dark stout he turned his attention back to carson as he spoke, a frown creeping over his lips. That last comment about not being prepared for a hunter struck something of a nerve. Its not that he was ill prepared he just was not expecting a mortal, a fellow hunter at that to pull a stunt like that. His father had always warned him never to trust anyone as far as he could throw him, but unfortunately murphy liked to give people the benefit of the doubt; for the most part. Which, upon thinking about it was strange considering the fact that his parents demise came at the hands of people he thought could be trusted; other hunters.

Throughout his brief reverie a dark look had passed over his face, but almost as quickly as it was there it lifted; reminding himself that he was in the presence of hawk. Now was not the time to be getting lost in thoughts, he apparently needed to keep his guard way up with this guy. come on hawk, yah only got tha’ close ta me cuz aye let yah. murph stated, a teasing gleam sparkling in his eye. ay’m just stroking yer ego pretty boy, since aye know how much guys like yah love it. of course he was lying through his teeth with that one, carson had really gotten one up on him that time and so long as murph lived it would be the only time. That however, did not mean he was going to let hawk think anything more than what murphy was trying to sell him; that the only reason he got so close was because murph let him.


nosy? Yer the one who brought up tha damn thing and then started to brag about it. murph shot back, feeling very much like he was arguing with a brick wall. It was apparent that carson had thought he’d already spoken about the knife too much, murph did not think he was going to be able to garner any more information about the knife from the boy. any means necessary? Yah suck someone dick to get it then? he asked, biting back a laugh as he tried to keep his face completely serious. Though he couldn’t help but let his lip twist up into a little smirk, he figured hawk wouldn’t take it too kindly that murph was suggesting he would do something so drastic. ‘ey aye resent that! swiss army knife? Squirt gun? Real professionals? Wow this guy was really out doing himself as an asshole, murph almost wanted to congratulate him for doing it so well. look, yah ever wanna take a look at a real weapons arsenal, jus’ let me know, id be ‘appy to show you tha ropes. in fact, it was a completely serious offer, he’d love to see just exactly what the great carson hawk had in the back of that car of his. No doubt it would be a beautiful collection, probably not as good as murphs own, but hey hawk could dream. Of course that was just murphs ego talking, for all he knew hawks collection bested his; probably not though.

EYES, THEY KEEP ON SHUTTING DOWN
CAN'T SEE WHY YOU WONT FIGURE ME OUT

• • • • • • •

• Word Count:1279
  
• Status: Complete!
  
• Tag: Emily/Carson
  
• Notes: lalala
  
• Music:After Ever After

[CARSON MICAH HAWK ,]

YOU MIGHT WIN ONE BATTLE
BUT KNOW THIS, I'LL WIN THE FUCKING WAR
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

carson would have given just about anything for a drink in his hand at that particular moment. and as though his memory served to grant that wish, he realized he had a flask hiding in the pocket of his worn leather jacket. reach to the inside of his coat, he pulled it out and took a swig before pouring some of the whiskey into his used bar glass. green eyes were cast quickly in the direction of the bartender, who saw the outside liquor, but was still too flustered from his previous rudeness to scold him. good girl, he thought to himself. he would take even the simplest of victories, no matter how ridiculous. directing his attention back to murphy once more, yet another grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. murphy probably thought he was catching carson in his own lie, but he saw it as the perfect opportunity to be a jerk. after all, that was what he did best, besides hunting. ”uncle sam.”

there was nothing that carson would have loved more than controlling the actions of connor mcmurphy. but even he knew that just wasn’t going to happen. he got his fair share of control over his tight-knit circle, but that hadn’t meant he would take another under his wing. believe it or not, most of his companions did not find him as repulsively obnoxious as the rest of the world. but the truth of it was, he was not going to get murphy to join him. he neither wanted him to nor thought it was a feat that could be accomplished. even if he did manage to get murphy to agree to work in the area, with his group, he knew it would not be under carson’s direction. so really, it wasn’t worth trying at all. if he packed up and moved to a different place, hell, even northern california,carson could unbunch his panties. but of course, his life wasn’t that easy. ”oh really? i suppose you love america so much that you came over here just to protect her citizens? you don’t have me fooled, even if you have the rest of the city believe your bullshit.” he didn’t know exactly why murphy had shown up on his turf, but he knew it wasn’t for shits and giggles.

his amusement had quickly faded with murphy’s retorts, scowling once more. carson had met quite a few people he simply couldn’t stand but murphy was quickly working his way to the top of the list. there was nothing more that carson wanted to do, especially in his alcoholic state, than punch him square in the jaw. it wouldn’t have been the first time a fight had erupted out in this particular bar on his accord, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. yet, without a clue as to how, he refrained from doing just so. he had an important job to see to tomorrow morning and the last thing he needed was to raid a vampire nest looking like he had just been drug through hell. ”god damn, will you give it a fucking rest. that whiney voice of yours is too much to endure. no wonder i never travelled…don’t think i could handle listening to bastards like you for more than a minute.”

the hunter had long since grown tired of the irishman’s games and was past the point of getting upset over his comments. what he really wanted to do was shake him uncontrollably, make him understand just how powerfully he could be….not just physically (as he was just a human, ya know), but via his contacts and arsenal of weapons. of course, he knew part of it was murphy’s own ego, but also the fact that he knew he was trying to get into his head. it was like speaking to a child (pot calling the kettle black, right there), when you just wanted them to stop poking and prodding for answers, and just slap them into realization. yes, in retrospect, carson wanted to give connor shaken baby syndrome? huh? yeah…something like that. he was too drunk to comprehend elaborate thoughts at this point. but he was never too drunk to punch someone’s lights out. at this point, that’s where it seemed things were headed. ”this riveting conversation has only proved to me that you have no idea who i am. if you did, this little stunt of yours would have ended the moment i walked up to you.” of course he thought highly of himself, but carson was a bit of a crazy fucker.

as much as carson obsessed over each one of his weapons, he wasn’t one who collected the rare, fancy stuff all that often. he had what he needed to do his job, and seldom anything greater than that. he had the knife before him that killed demons and a few other bewitched things just like it. but for the most part, he made sure he was stocked full of silver bullets, holy water, rock salt, and copper blades. as far as he was concerned, it was the skilled ways in which he used his simple weapons that made the hunter, not the expensive shit. ”you having whole mess of weapons is about as useful as your dick, probably. without knowing what to do, you’re just a sitting duck.” he threw back the rest of his own provided whiskey before standing from his seat. he stepped toward murphy, standing mere inches from his face. he was sure murphy could smell the alcohol on his breath now, if he couldn’t before. ”are threats all you have for me, pansy?” with his index finger, he pushed connor in the chest, prodding him. he had just about enough of the comments…he was ready to rumble.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

tagged - - - connor!
notes - - - yuck, sorry. running low on carson muse.
lyrics - - - the way of the fist ,, five finger death punch.
word count - - - 966.

[/blockquote]

[CONNOR DEVLIN MCMURPHY]

WITH MY FATE, MY THOUGHTS ERASE
MY HEADS A BLUR, THE PICTURE FADES

• • • • • • •

Connor shook his head, emitting a small scoff from the back of his throat as a smirk pulled his lips up; the dude had a flask in his coat pocket. Not only did he drink straight from his flask but then he poured it into his bar glass, all the while giving the poor waitress the stink eye. This hunter was really a piece of work and murph was beginning to wonder if fucking with the guy was worth the hassle. classy. he murmured, giving his head another quick shake. He wondered how much this guy drank, judging by how quickly he seemed to remember his flask and the amount in it, he was going to guess fairly often. Probably even more than conn and he was irish for fucks sake, they were made to drink, it was in their blood. Still though, he was slightly perturbed that he had never thought of procuring a flask himself; it did kind of make hawk look badass. So if it made hawk look badass then murphy would definitely look badass. Conner raised his eyebrows as his face twisted into a ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ look. Judging by the grin on the other mans lips he was sure that hawk was right pleased with himself, giving a fucking joke of an answer; maybe hawk was not such a hardass after all. Nah, fuck him.

Settling back against the bar with one elbow resting on it he kept on eye on carson, especially since murphy had just told him, in so many words to fuck off. If the tight ass actually thought he could ask connor to leave and he would do it just like that he was in for a rude surprise; though he figured his sarcasm got that message across. Last time murph checked this was the land of the free and if he wanted to stay in san diego he fucking would and no amount of threatening or coercion was going to make him change his mind; well from the jackass sitting across from him anyway. oh? An’ jus’ exactly wat is this bullshit thas got everyone fooled, except fer yah? seriously, what the fuck was hawks problem? Sure, he did not come here intentionally to fight the big bads, but hunts always seem to fall into his lap and he is good at them so he figured he might as well pick it up again. Besides, there was no way he was returning to the green isle anytime soon, his name was not forgotten and there were still some people looking to collect on what he owes; and they’ll take anything they can get. So far now laying low in California, a fucking state with a greater population than that of a damn country, was the best plan.


Murphy figured it would not take long for carson to flip flop back to his usual scowling, angry self. It was almost sad how easy it was to bug the guy, it was like picking low hanging fruit. Just about everything that connor did apparently angered the other hunter, his presence alone would probably set him off just as much. Murphy was willing to bet that even if he sat there and did nothing hawk would still find some way to get in a huff and bitch at him. His singing quickly faded into laughter, deeply amused at the complaint. so not a taylor swift fan, okay, aye can change it up, what’dya wanna hear? he teased. Completely ignoring the insult to his motherland and accent, it would do no good to get all in huff. One hunter with their panties in a twist was enough and hawk just filled that position so well. Though it was something of a disappointment that hawk was apparently getting a better hold of that volatile anger of his, how else was murphy supposed to get his kick now? The Irishman shrugged at hawks peacock strut, he could have been the president of the united states and he still would not give a rats ass. sorry, is this tha part where ayem suddenly supposed ta realize that yer more than just a jackass and profusely apologize fer being annoyin’? he returned, tone sarcastic. This whole ‘holier than thow’ shtick was getting old, it was high time hawk found a new act.


the blonde rolled his eyes, sittin’ duck my arse. Ayem still alive aint aye? Must mean ma dick is useful too. he commented, half committed to the retort. Judging by the way hawk tossed back the rest of the whisky and stood, he did not think he would be getting much of a reply. Wrinkling his nose at the smell of alcohol he shifted in his seat, attempting to put even an inch more distance between them. Connor did not like to be crowded and right now with his back against the bar and hawk basically boxing him in he was getting agitated. The Irishman was claustrophobic and tried to avoid any situation that might put him in a confined space or make him feel crowded; too bad in his line of work he encountered such unsavory conditions almost daily. The claustrophobia was a result of the gig as well, when he was younger he got locked in a crypt for two days with only the hissing and scurrying of rats to keep him company. Suffice to say he does not like rats either. fuck yerself. he stood up, forcing hawk to move back lest he want murphy stepping on his toes. yer well on yer way ta becoming ossified, if yah aren’t already, an’ aye aint tha’ far behind yah, so feck off before we end up acting like a real couple’a gobshites he spoke, his native slang slipping from his lips before he could convert it to something the jackass would understand. Connor was beginning to feel a lovely cocktail of hormones, adrenaline and testosterone, on top of the beer in his system; things were shaping up to be a fight.

EYES, THEY KEEP ON SHUTTING DOWN
CAN'T SEE WHY YOU WONT FIGURE ME OUT

• • • • • • •

• Word Count:1013
  
• Status: Complete!
  
• Tag: Emily/Carson
  
• Notes: sorry for the delay, my muse has been on the fritz, plus ive been busy =/
  
• Music:After Ever After