Scorpio [James Audr]

Dear Mun,

You are not hitting me with an abandon baby for lulz.
I bloody well will send the brat to Hawken to eat. Better yet, I just may eat the damn thing myself.

YSYK.


To sum up: No. No. No. And NO. >:<

-Me.

The road is perilous nothing more than a strip of ice built along frozen lakes and seas. The road connects a mining outpost in Alaska. He’s there taking the brief two months the road is passable to deliver critical supplies to the camps, before the ice melts.

He braves whites-outs, thin ice and the deadly cold to do the dangerous job. As a Immortal he can play with death to do this job. For him, it’s not about the dash for cash as the job pays good money to deliver the loads. It’s not about the job being a dirty, dangerous one, he’s just crazy enough to enjoy. The job is dangerous enough to take his mind off of thinking about Brighid. He doesn’t have time for sleep, which suits him fine. Sleep means he dreams about the love she gave, the love he’s trying to forget. He can’t forget on his own, so he drives Big Rigs along the most dangerous ice he can find just to help him stop thinking about her.

As the time wears on, he uses the job to take his mind off the fact he isn’t successful in trying to stop himself from wanting her, or forgetting her. He knows he only wants her more. He longs to wrap himself up against her, hold her in his arms like he used to do; and he hates himself for the feeling.

He finds his ‘little black book’. He has to. He’s tired of sitting around listening to Don Gibson’s Oh Lonesome me’. His little black book is well loved, the same as the women listed in the book. And, it is all women, his preference is stronger for the fairer sex and his own attitude to be the dominate male in any situation.

The book is listed from A-Z, just like the song says he tries everything from A-Z to forget her. He works his way through the list of blondes, redheads and those who have the flair to try every dye job under the sun - all at once. He steers clear of brunettes for a while, they remind him of Brighid. After a while he stops being so choosey and just prefers his brunettes with blue eyes or green. Never brown. Never a look of twenty. He always picks up the older looking brunettes.

At first his dating attempts are more miss than hit. He’s too aggressive. Too arrogant. Too much for some. They flee in droves from him. He cries in his drink with Eothian lamenting over the loss - not the loss of Brighid - the loss of his touch to get women into his bed. Eothian consoles him, tries not to laugh, and gives the advice to be more romantic. Eothian does not tell him he is maybe too rude as it is an attempt to purposely push women away, he’s not ready to have anyone fill Brighid‘s place. Eothian drinks with him and consoles him some more.

He becomes romantic, even takes his time to shower properly. And the women begin to take to him more readily. He starts up a new little black book. The women's names are collected and added in an A-Z fashion, not by name, but by experience: A- for awful. Z- for total Zzzz.

In the end, out of frustration and anger, he tosses both books from the nearest cliff he can find. The books do not help him forget and none of the women could ever be Brighid, no matter how much he wanted them to be her.

Who: Breacan and Audr.
When: Now.
What: Punch up.
Rating: PGR - R.

Triggery: Reference to incest.
-------------------

“Why the hell won’t either of you, leave it alone?”

Breacan shrugged, impervious against Audr’s anger. “Quite possibly due to the whole matter, being your fault.”

( He had never heard his brother speak so…”Jesus, that is crude and harsh, even for you.” ... )

Who: Eothian and Audr [Jimmy].
When: After Audr left Brighid in Mexico.
Rating: R.

X-posted to Eothian.
-------------

“James Audr is big. He has a big body frame. A big face, big feet. His fist are big too. In fact, everything about James Audr is big...even his head.

I should say was, but I am getting ahead of myself. Where was I?”

Audr showed his displeasure. “You’re discussing me, and what will be said at my funeral.”

“Oh yeah, right,” Returned Eothian. “James Audr has a name for being a wild one. Not that he’d got caught at anything and there was nothing firm about his robbing or drug dealing. But there were rumours…”

( By the way, your security is all over the place.” “What you get for hiring idiots. They must be still looking for you.” Respond James, tartly. “Uh, no. I mean literally all over---in pieces.... )

No, really? Who've guessed.

You Are North

Like a Viking, you are assertive, decisive, and dominant. You seek power and destroy those in your way. People admire that you are so confident and independent. You seem to have the world figured out. Sometimes you come across as pushy and aggressive... not that you mind! You like being seen as tough. You make a fairly good leader, especially in times that require grit and ruthlessness. You are a warrior.

In the battle ground of the northern city of Juarez, in Mexico, he once held a code of honour - banning the killing of women or children, he expected his men to do the same. The feuding over the smuggling routes and federal police trying to crush the Mexican drug cartel lords hauling cocaine to the north of the United States, caused the violence to escalate and the code to disappear, that was the official police report. Off the record reports had some believing the devil had come to Mexico.

The hardened residents who were used to seeing the violence became shocked, when gun men and police, fought a three hour battle outside a kindergarten. The shoot out raged on, only to end with one hitman dead, several police and children wounded or killed.

The Gulf cartel lords of the eastern coast denounced the attacks, saying the alliance headed by Mexico’s most wanted man was no more than a monster. Even they found it outrageous he held no qualms killing harmless children.

For Mexico’s most wanted drug lord, the shoot outs, the hiding, the killing, and the drugs was a war he fought uncaring. It was far better than feeling.

Disclaimer: Joe Dawson belongs to the creators of Highlander. He is merely borrowed for a non-profit Fic.
daughterof_fate (Brighid) belongs to her creator and borrowed to complete a fic request.

Rating: R for talk of violence.

Note: Fanfic only.
-----------------------
The barroom was dark and empty. The lack of patronage likely accounted for hardly any smoke haze in the room. There was no one down stairs attending the bar. She called out, “Hello?”

An older man, with a cane appeared from one of the back rooms. He had a welcoming smile on his face and under his arm he carried a laptop along with a large manila folder bursting at the seams.

“Thank you, for arriving at such short notice.”

( She found out he had enough wanted posters to wallpaper a house - twice over.... )

O'rly?

The Part of You That No One Sees is Afraid

You are passionate, romantic, and emotional. You put love first in your life, even though you have often been disappointed by it. You expect to be swept of your feet, and you never expect infatuation to die out. Underneath it all, you are scared that you aren't lovable. Your insecurity has ruined many relationships, as you are unable to see the love that's really there. You are secretly afraid of being alone. Confronting your insecurities is incredibly painful.

TXT MSG TO BREACAN:

Caramello Koalas.

Picasso, uh. I can go with that.

Your Passion is Blue

You are a total dream in the bedroom. Sex is a fine art for you - and you're a total Picasso in your pleasure making. You like to build things up slowly, savoring each moment. And you'd never think of skipping foreplay or after-play... they're part of the package.

Dear mun,

This is me: “Yadda, Yadda, Yadda.”

This is you writing for me: “Blah, Blah, Blah.”

In short, one of these things is not like the other.

-Me.

Out of the two brothers James Audr is emotionally wise, lighter of the two. While, like Breacan, he can be a very difficult man to approach in some matters, he does know how to joke around with the best of them.

Occasionally, Audr and Eothian will call each other, they will gossip like two old ladies across a backyard fence. The conversation will then turn and they will become two teenage boys. When the conversation turns that way, if Breacan is with them, he will flee the room or usually face palm often.

It was just as well he wasn’t there this time when the conversation turned to giving Audr, personal advice. Sitting on the steps outside of Fins apartment with his cell phone, trying to cool down, and laughing his ass off at the conversation, Audr drew more than a few looks from people passing him by, most gave curious looks at what had him laughing so hard.

On the other end of the line was Eothian, giving Audr advice on how to attract women, Eothian was singing: ‘Treat her right’.

He forgets, he isn’t my king.

[ooc: link to entry with ws youtbe.]

Talked Don into giving Breacan leave.
------------------------


I am the type of man who takes what he can from others, and, give nothing in return. I am also, it is said, the type of man who likes to play games.

Thus, it comes as no surprise to know, I found my self sitting at a table opposite the sea god, Poseidon. We were preparing to play a game by his rules. The god had a wining, confident smirk on his face; knowing a mere mortal – or in my case Immortal – had very little chance of wining against him.

Between us on the table was placed a hand gun.

“When I win where do I send the body to?” Poseidon had asked me.

I raised an eyebrow, and replied with:

“If…”

Poseidon, in his way, snorted half incredulously with laughter at my display of equally confident cockiness. The cockiness bore from the simple understanding I am already dead, he was not taking anything from me that was not already taken.

The rules were set.

1: Should the weapon muzzle face no one, Poseidon could kiss the other.
2: One chance at winning.


I brought in the weapon, with Poseidon looking on; I load the gun ready to play our game.
He inspected the weapon and grunted with approval, when there was nothing which could be deemed unusual about the make of the gun. The stakes of the game were high; as was the way when playing a deadly game of Russian Roulette. I was playing a life for a life – my life, to allow Breacan free personal time away from Poseidon. If I lost --- well the thought then was unimaginable.

A hush fell over the room while we waited for the gun to stop twirling. It stopped, and luck seemed to favor the god when it faced open space. Poseidon, of course, could not contain his mirth when he claimed his prize, of what I believe, had to be the chastest kiss I have ever given someone. Kissing the god was like kissing a fish. With the moment out of the way we proceeded once again with the game.

“One chance.” I had said and added, “Your word…”

Poseidon, while a god who often is childish and demanding could be relied on to give his word. His word was gold amongst those who knew him. It is often his only redeeming quality.

“…Is solid.” Said Poseidon assuredly. “…You’ll have it, if you win.”

“When.” I corrected him.

The gun twirled once more, much to my and Poseidon’s dismay, it was difficult to tell which then, the muzzle faced me. You know, when something like that happens it the same as when you cross the road with out looking and before you know it a car is nearly on you, and instead of running, you do something stupid – you're like a deer caught in car headlights.

I started at the gun, pointing in my direction. I said to Poseidon in a hushed, scared voice: I have the curious wondering thought of why my life isn't flashing before me, then it dawned in me why, because I was too fucking scared to think. Too scared to do anything but react. I picked up the weapon. Pointed it to my temple. Closed my eyes. And pulled the trigger.

The click of the trigger sounded like a fucking bomb going off in that quiet room.

Jesus Christ, for a moment, I swore I pissed my pants thinking it was a bullet going through my head; that's exactly what I told Donnie too. I guess I must have had that look of ecstatic relief when I opened my eyes, ‘cause Donnie had kicked the chair he was sitting in clear across the room in a fit of temper over losing.

One chance. And, I had won.

“Your word.”

“Fine.” Donnie had grumbled as he went out the room. “Breacan has time off.”

I sat back in the chair, thinking about the win. See I always did like to play games, and when you’re the type to play games with gods it pays to play against non-omnipresent gods. Those sorts of gods don’t see everything, only what they see in front of them.

( Actually, if you’re going to play games with Vikings you’d just better not, because if they are playing you know they are going to pillage, rape and burn the playhouse down... )

Go to Google image search and type in your name title. Post an image from the first page of results along with your commentary about that image. [So did not edit the prompt to suit himself.]

TITLE: Sexiest man alive:



Oh, Lord it’s hard to be humble

By Mac Davis.
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
When you're perfect in every way
I can't wait to look in the mirror
’Cos I get better lookin each day
To know me is to love me
I must be a hell of a man
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
But I'm doin' the best that I can

I used to have a girlfriend
But I guess she just couldn't compete
With all these love starved women
Who keep clamoring at my feet
Well I probably could find me another
But I guess they're all in awe of me
Who cares I never get lonesome
’Cos I treasure my own company
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
When you're perfect in every way
I can't wait to look in the mirror
’Cos I get better lookin each day
To know me is to love me
I must be a hell of a man
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
But I'm doin the best that I can

I guess you could say I am a loner
A cowboy all locked up and proud
Well I could have lots of friends if I wanted
But then I wouldn't stand out in a crowd
Some folks say that I'm egotistical
Hell I don't even know what that means
I guess it has something to do with the way
That I fill out my skin tight blue jeans
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
When you're perfect in every way
I can't wait to look in the mirror
’Cos I get better lookin each day
To know me is to love me
I must be a hell of a man
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble
But I'm doin the best that I can

Pinocchio and his family survived in the belly of a whale on the fish it consumed. If you were stuck in the belly of a giant beast, how would your character pass the time? (How) would they survive the experience? How would they make their escape?

In 1977, I remember Daddy Cool’s Eagle rock playing a lot on Australian radio. The year was also the time Donald Mackay – an anti drug campaigner from Sydney, was murdered. That set off the whole Mackay/Trimbole/Mr Asia affair, which would shake up the Underbelly of Australian crime. The Underbelly was like some massive, monstrous creature, which fed on crime and consumed people who wanted to be devoured by it.

They say, if you got sucked into the ‘belly you might be lucky to be chewed up and spat out with a limb missing. You might wonder if I am embellishing, dramatising and just plain making bits up about it all. I could even be promoting it heavily as a true story, but it is history that much is true.

History says Mackay murder was solved. It wasn't. While the bloke who pulled the trigger was caught and jailed, as were some of the middlemen, the Calabrian mafia bosses who cold-bloodedly ordered the murder have never been charged, some are still alive and still flourishing.

History got a lot of things wrong when it comes to the Underbelly, but one thing it didn’t get wrong was claiming Mr Asia was Terrence James Clark. Clark, was and to some respect the Mr Big of Mr Big’s and his power at the time was unstoppable. He offered cunning and corruption to fight the combined drug police forces of Australasia. Between him and “Aussie Bob” Trimbole, Mackay was a thorn, an anti-drug campaigner who ended up having to have something ‘done about him’; Mackay’s death just had to happen.

Nobody could fight against Clark. He had found wealth in an evil trade and he once boasted he couldn’t even spend the interest on his massive multi-million dollar fortune he had amassed during the seventies. Clark got fat off the ‘belly and enjoyed it. Like all things there must be an ending, Clark was caught and ended up in Jail. But even in Jail he was a category ‘A’ prisoner. Not for him prison food; he had food from the top restaurants delivered. He paid for it all, along with the best wine and cigars.

They say the Underbelly got Clark, chewed him up and spat him out --- he died mysteriously in Jail. No one witnessed his death. Or those who did weren’t talking.

It is no secret I like expensive things.
Cufflinks.
Sunglasses.
Sobranie and, or, Dunhill cigarettes.
Dunhill Lighter.

I also picked up a travel sketch book.
Watercolor pan and drawing pencils.

I started to draw again. I forgot the frustration you get when your right brain is telling your left brain to shut the hell up and let it draw, so you draw a line and not the edge of a door. That I am actually putting it down on paper is some what of a miracle, I have been fighting a block for …well…years.