Sade Olutola
cherry valley forever
Mike Driver
$LAYYYTER
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
trying on a metaphor
Origami Around
Show & Tell
izzy's playlists!
Janaina Medeiros
No title available
Monterey Bay Aquarium
Stranger Things
noise dept.
Cosimo Galluzzi
Sweet Seals For You, Always
Misplaced Lens Cap
Product Placement
seen from Guyana
seen from Uzbekistan
seen from Japan
seen from Paraguay
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
@beautifullycynic
Port Leiry Halloween Rave
Lucian couldn't care less for Halloween and the desire most had to romanticize the monsters he's trying to get rid of. But he couldn't pass the opportunity to be involved when the air felt so thick. Maybe get a hunt.
Closed Starter for @beautifullycynic
Where: A Sidewalk
When: Middle of the afternoon sometime in August
As Charlotte bent to help cobble the objects that had fallen from the man’s shopping back together, she shook her head.
‘What had that man been thinking?’ She thought to herself disapproving.
Moments earlier she had watched someone veer of course and practically slam themselves into the man crouched next to her at full force. Like he had wanted the collision to hurt. And while the man across from her looked fine, positively nonplussed, she had been outraged. Running across the street as the clumsy individual had scurried off.
She picked up the last of the fallen packages, it wasn’t an herb she recognized, and lifted her head to look at the man. “Are you ok?” She sighed, “That looked like it hurt.”
It doesn't happen often, that Lucian's caught off guard on the streets and there's a distinct feeling that the man running into him had known to the very least who he was or what he did, if the expression on his face and his haste retreat were something to go by. Like he couldn't get away fast enough, even if that meant running straight into him.
A little side project then.
He looks up the moment he catches sight of a helping hand, and the smile on his lips is actually genuine as the girl starts picking stuff up unprompted, helpful. And woefully ignorant of what he had in his bag apparently. Not a wolf then.
"I'm perfectly fine love, don't worry." He offers lightly, dusting off the side of his clothes. "Thank you for your help, you didn't have to." He extends a hand out, a smile on his lips. "May I repay your... chivalry." He teases. "In any way?."
☎️ (Fin)
Send ☎️ And I Will Tell You:
What My Muse Has For Your Muse's Contact Info: Finlay Hall
What Their Ringtone Is: Hunting Bears - Radiohead
The Last Text They Sent Your Muse: "That was very anticlimactic"
What Image My Muse Has For Your Muse In Their Phone:
Cameron regards him, practically unbothered by the way Lucian's entire demeanor has changed towards him. They've hunted together, broke bread together, but he is something else now. Not hunter, but still a monster. He finishes cleaning himself, and stares down his friend (former? friend?).
"Perhaps." His head tilts. The way he hold himself is still very much the same, but the difference is that he moves with a grace he didn't have before.
"And what moment is that?"
What moment is that?... he likes to think of it as this little exchange, of the calm before the storm. The quiet moment in which their breathing becomes steady before they shoot. The heavy weighted seconds before completing a hunt. "Well, figuring you're my friend and I respect you..."
He pauses, looking around them with a smile still on his lips. "I would think it proper to enjoy the moment here between us before I look you in the eyes." He continues, looking at the former hunter turned monster. "And promise you will die by my hands." Smile turning into a smirk. "Consider it a... merciful act from a... most caring friend."
Cam wiped carefully at his lips and chin with one of the napkins provided by one of the waiters working the event with a quiet word of gratitude. Being clean about this all was still a bit of a learning curve, but he was still new.
When Lucian approaches, Cameron's spine tightens to make him stand up just a bit straighter. He's still cleaning up the blood from his chin, the picture of polite nobility. "We both know you're thinking much darker things, Luc."
He saw, unbothered, as the former hunter cleaned himself up. A hint of amusement on his eyes where there was only respect before. Like this had all but turned into a game now. He smiled, acknowledging his words. After all, Cameron has worked with him before.
"Oh... just a friendly compliment." He continued, teasing, letting his hands rest behind his back as he observed like he would one of his preys. "I can almost see a blush in all the paleness, perhaps there's some life in you still." A smirk grew in his lips before he shook his head. "I'm sorry, just teasing... I wanna savor this moment."
For: @huntercam Where: The gala
He hasn't seen the other in a while, busy as they both often were. Lucian had expected to encounter him here, right in the lion's den, in the middle of all the danger, with the creatures ready to bare their teeth if the situation so called for it. But what he saw had been nothing he accounted for, as the blood dripped down the hunter's chin, cleaned with the same precision he knew Cameron to do everything. Most disappointing, to lose a man such as himself and Lucian couldn't help himself. Couldn't stop himself from going to him, a smirk on his lips he often reserved to his preys rather than friends, but that's the change that's occurred here, is it not?. "I must say, my friend... that death becomes you." He teases, a jab. Throwing the truth between them like a promise of danger.
Lucian Goodwin at The Conclave Gala
Lucian sneaks into the gala quietly, looking down with a smirk on his lips. Laying low as he tries to blend in and catch any and all creatures hanging about him. He's not stupid to try anything in a building full with monsters, but he still entertains the idea of making this as enjoyable as possible. And if the spikes of his shoes are made of silver, that's just an elegant feature.
His chuckle sends a shudder down their spine, a response baked into their instincts, even though it has been years since they've heard his voice. Their blood freezes when he brings up Autumn, the secret they've kept tucked tight to their chest because they don't know how to talk about it with anyone. The reminder of their mistake makes them bare their teeth at him. They would've never been running like that if it weren't for him. If they'd all just left their pack alone-
Anger is a common emotion for them, they've come to realize, but it's been a long time since they let themself be angry without immediately shrinking for fear of retaliation. The way heat seems to cord through their shoulders as they try to stay in control. They wish they could let it loose, a warning that even a sadistic hunter might heed, but that is not them.
His words make them feel sick. He missed them? Or did he miss the way they would whine and yelp and whimper in response to his experiments. If they could beg in their wolf form, they would have. "I didn't m-miss you. I n-never will. And I'm leav-leaving. Stay away from me and my pack." They're no longer the scared little pup who had been ripped away from the only family they'd ever known. They're older now, have been through enough to know how to survive alone, and if Lucian wanted to test his luck, then they would make sure he regrets it.
There's a pleased hum in his throat at their reactions. Each one more precious than the last, the proof that he's just as ingrained into their being as he had hoped. An ever present reminder of the time they spent together, in the quietness of his lab, with nothing but the sound of his machines and the soft smell of wolfsbane mixed with silver and blood. He's what they'll see when they're scared, a fixtured face to put to all their demons.
He smiles then, at their words. At their anger. A facet he got to see so little of, when they were but just cowering back in their cell. "So the little wolf has teeth." He comments, amused, entertained. And so looking forward to what this new hunt could become. More interesting, much more challenging, and when he finally get them back... it will be all the more satisfying. "You don't have to pull them out just yet, my dear... we're just getting started."
He backs slowly, a hand moving up to wave goodbye with his smile still in place. Giving them space to leave as he retreats with his eyes still set on them. "Send my regards to your pack, I look forward to meeting them all."
// END.
Irene didn’t flinch when Lucian sat beside her — didn’t look at him right away either. Her gaze stayed on the water, still as glass under the early dusk, the kind of quiet only Graver’s Isle could offer. She hadn’t lit anything yet — no incense, no candles, no circles scratched into the dirt. Just a blade laid across her lap and a half-wrapped strip of gauze beside her. Something about this place made it easier to think. To breathe.
But then his shoulder bumped hers, and that earned him a glance. Dry. Amused. Tired, but not unkind.
“You know,” she said, voice low, “— if you keep sneaking up on me like that, you’re gonna get yourself accidentally stabbed.”
Her eyes flicked down to the knife.
“And then I won’t be able to get my own tattoo.”
A beat. Then the corner of her mouth pulled, just slightly — not quite a smile, but close enough that it counted. The kind that said she didn’t really mind the company, even if she’d never admit it outright.
Her shoulders eased, a little of the edge bleeding off.
“I thought you liked keeping your insides inside, Lucian,” she added, tone dry again. “Could’ve fooled me, creeping up on baby hunters like that.”
She nudged him back lightly — all elbow and bone and the barest hint of playfulness that didn’t quite make it to her expression, but lived in the motion.
She glanced at him again, quieter this time.
“You working on anything out here?” she asked, like it was nothing. Like the water around them hadn’t carried a dozen unanswered thoughts she didn’t want to say aloud. Like Shiv's state. The fact Riven's magic was still lingering around a mind he shouldn't have been in the first place.
He laughs, an honestly amused laugh that lacked all the mocking and promised pain they often do. Shrugging a shoulder as he takes in her nudge and words. "Ah well darling, I like keeping my insides inside... but other's... I prefer to pull them out." He says casually, like there's no dark meaning behind his words.
"Besides, had I actually sneak up on you, obvious as I was of my approach, then you probably wouldn't get your own tattoo anyway, love."
Not when they needed sharper instincts, to fight against creatures and monsters much faster and agile that a regular human being was capable of. Vicious in their attacks.
He looks at her, studies her for all of a minute to know there's something bothering her that won't ever make it to his ears. Not now, probably... perhaps when she's ready and willing.
He shrugs once more, playful as he looks back out into the space before them.
"As always, darling, you shall see it in due time." He's working on plenty things. All preparing him for a most delightful hunt.
For: @ireneclermont Where: Graver's Isle
It wasn't uncommon to find her here, Irene, like some other hunters, seemed to prefer the solitude the isle provided, as opposed to the city. Lucian, himself, preferred to work on his weapons in the peace this place possessed. Not all of them though, some, Lucian preferred to work in the secrecy of his home. In his own makeshift lab.
He approaches slowly, though confident she wouldn't hurt him, and prepared if she tried anyway. Better not to spook a hunter.
There's an easy smile on his lips that lacks the dangerous edge that always promises something infinitely dark for most. A softness invoked in him that comes only from the missing of a sister that's about the same age as Irene. Something that makes him inherently human.
Sitting by her side, he only dares a soft push against her shoulder, a playful tone to his voice as he asks. "Penny for your thoughts?."
Dorian and Cait are casting in tandem today—one mouth, one mind. Each day grinds forward in the same ecstatic rhythm: hypothesis, test, rewrite, repeat. The ritual’s a litany now, so familiar that Cait almost forgets where she is, candle in one hand, syllables reshaping mid-breath as she molds the spell by sound alone.
She doesn’t notice the stranger until he’s already inside the Mausoleum.
Her eyes flick toward him like a blade unsheathed. She blows out the candle—snuff—a clean end to the work, and stares. Doesn’t speak.
Call her an empath if you want—Cait knows a killer when she sees one. Knows one because she is one. Because she houses one. Because death walks with her like a second spine. And this man, this thing stepping over her threshold with a smile like a coin flipped midair? She recognizes the weight of him immediately.
The murder line is cute. Almost admirably bold for someone standing on ground that sings with her power. She could kill him—clean, quick, painless or not. She’s got a feeling he knows that. Which means he walked in anyway. Means he’s the type to stick his hand straight into the open maw, just to see if it bites.
The offer to make peace is stranger than most curses. Dorian is watching now, too.
“Not many people go around looking to make peace with a mauloeum owner.”
Damn Cait’s love for a good mystery, because yes, she wants to know exactly what the fuck is going on here.
“You sure you didn’t take a wrong turn on your way to a chapel?”
There's something especially magnetic, about them... the witches of death, necromancers. Something so dark and yet so... full of life. It's almost poetic. But Lucian isn't here for poetics... hunters, unlike the monsters that roam around this city so freely, are still human, empowered only by magic, and magic alone. And he knows there's power, in a type of magic that's so tied to life, to death.
He hums, pleasantly enough, lowering his hands finally to hide them behind his back. A comfortable position, as it is distracting. They are all always expecting for the gun.
"Well, I am not most people." He says casually, starting to pace as his eyes ran over every corner of the place. "And you're not any mausoleum owner, are you?."
He's heard so many fascinating stories in this city.
He laughs, shakes his head before looking back at her with a grin on his face. "Now, darling, do I look the type to wander into a chapel?." It's a tease, amusement dripping from his lips before he shakes his head slowly.
"No, I'm most certainly in the right place, I have always wanted to meet a witch of your kind, if I may be so blunt... besides, I think we'd work so well together."
He calls her on her lie, almost immediately. She doesn't need him to believe her, she just needs him not to know where she's going; his reassurances about his disinterest do little to sell that she needn't worry. His question, then, goes unanswered, her expression turning less confused and a little more ireful.
Then comes his answer. He's well spoken, the kind of voice she'd have imprinted on a favorite villain in a book, and there's a sort of softness in there, like to hear him speak any louder would betray whatever real threat he's hiding in a stage whisper. He hints at Aria, that he knows what is happening and Autumn feels her fist tighten so strongly her nails threaten to dig past the skin of her palms. How does he know? Is he responsible? A witch, then? "We're working it out," she lies again.
But then the layers peel back further, and she's taken aback at his revelation. She thinks to Arte, then, who she hasn't seen in months now, on purpose. There's a sort of bristling ember there, a confusing feeling she doesn't have a word for.
She feels the wolf in her stir, threatened. Her tongue flits nervously over a cracked tooth. Her eyes scan the rest stop parking lot, empty out here on the side of the freeway all of its empty space now coated with tension as the space between them grows tighter, her feet carrying her forward in morbid curiosity. Autumn doesn't get too close though; knows she shouldn't. She can smell faint hints of danger on him; repulsive scents that she knows now, like silver and wolfsbane, under whatever else there is, cologne and magic she supposes; just like Cameron. She gestures to the shrunken space between them. "So what its this, then?"
It's like free entertainment, of a sort. To watch how they work themselves up so easily, these werewolves, these beast. Like there's nothing but anger coursing through their body and they can't help but revert to the most basic of human instincts. He almost expects her to lash out, jump at him like a caged animal and wonders how much would it take to make her snap. Not much, he figures, by the looks of it. He wonders how enlightening would be to have a wolf that's no prisoner to one form.
He's much eager to finding out.
But for now, he settles for a pleased smile, his hands falling into his pockets, where he hides little toys of his own in case she decides to play. He's not going for the catch, not yet.
"Well, I wish you my very best in your... conflicting situationship." He teases, moving his head as he speaks to deliver his amusement. Before shrugging lightly. "Ah this is just... an impromptu meeting, darling, to get acquainted with each other. I was so looking forward to meeting you."
For: @kiristephens Where: Tūmatarau Apothecary
He wandered into the store much in the same fashion he had the last one. His eyes scanning over every little trinket and jar. All the herbs and plants and the magic that surrounded him in all the mundanity of its appearance. A most natural pharmacy for anyone unsuspecting and he had to give it to the owner, for how well this blends in with the humans. He wouldn't think more of it if he didn't already know.
He reaches the counter, ringing the bell twice with a playful smile on his lips. He's heard some stories about the owner of this particular apothecary, but none that he's been able to prove true. So he waits, anxiously for her company while he moves back around the store, inspecting some of the jars and the names on it. Turns back to the counter only when he hears movement. "Morning, Miss... I hope I've not interrupted anything important." He turns, fully to her now, catching some marks across the skin of her neck. "I'm looking for some specific plants that I believe you do not have on display."
⚡️- what would it take for you to be merciful
"I am merciful, darling, I'm helping the world by ending these monster's miserable existences." He says with a smile on his lips. "These creatures claim to go through immeasurable pain just to become a monster, and I am ridding them of it, would you not call that mercy?."
“Hi, what can I……”
Thera swallows a gag. His thread…. oozes. She can smell the blood of supernaturals so strongly on his string that she knows if she focused on it closely enough she could see faces. So many faces….. She takes a breath as he approaches, sliding a mask of calm into place as she thanks the Fates Juniper is out of the house right now.
Thera has seen her fair share of Pasts and Fates soaked in blood. But this….. None of their threads gave off the black ichor his did.
As he descended upon her she could see the glimmer of a Brotherhood tattoo on his front. She had worked with hunters before, they were some of her best clients, but this. She knew of hunters who abused their position to put other people in reprehensible positions and what this man, Lucien, had done, must be egregious indeed if it had soaked his thread so thoroughly that it gave off the odor of torture.
Calm Thera, the faster you help him, the faster you can get him out of here. “Hello Lucien, my name is Thera, what can I help you with this afternoon?”
He can see the shifts in her expression. Lets her work through the turmoil inside her mind and decide her course of action. He had no intention to start something with the witches, Lucian was smarter than The Fellowship in this, and the work they've done for them... for him, has allowed him to work on things much more interesting.
"Thera... such lovely name." He comments charmingly, a smile on his lips as he looks around, hovering one of his hands over some of the items on the store. But not touching, never around a witch. "I was looking for... some herbs, for some tea making." He says with a light raise of eyebrows, like there's nothing behind his request.
"You know, healing and all that... lavender, thyme." He pauses, his smile full of amusement as he turns around in the shop, looking at the objects. His eyes on some crystals as he finishes, thinks of a redheaded werewolf he'd love to have back under his care. "Wolfbane."
She's stood there at the front of her car, staring at this man who is in turn staring back at her. There's a tension in her body, coiling in her muscles. A scent drifts between them, familiar in that she recognizes it; cologne, magic, and below that the unique odor of a person.
In her four months or so of this life she has found that a person's scent is like a finger print or a feature on their face taken apart from the whole; not truly something you notice outright, but something that flags familiarity in the mind. She's never seen this man's face, but she's been near him; the draft between them that sets the fine hairs on her neck on edge tells her that.
Her brow furrows; it's that floral spice of magic that worries her; Cameron'd had that too - is this what monster hunters smell like? Why?
"No," she lies, "Just needed to get out of the city."
Everything tells her to turn and run, but it also says not to turn her back. "What do you mean, catch me alone? Who are you?" Her phones charging in her car damnit...
He chuckles, his head hanging as the sound leaves his lips before he looks back up. He can notice the tension in her body, can almost see the way her muscles tighten with the force of it against his mere presence and he can't help the pleased feeling rushing through his body. Such a strong reaction and she doesn't even know him yet.
"Have you always been such a terrible liar, dear?." He's been following her, studying her. He knows how much she values this found family of hers, the vampire she seems to cling to like a dog trailing after its master to even consider leaving with no reason. Monsters attract monsters, he presumes. "No need to worry, I've no care for whoever you're off to see."
He shrugs, looking at her feigning innocent. "Oh you know, just us, no nosy friends, lost puppy looking girlfriend." He grins. "Did I get that right? Girlfriend? Or are you two on a break? Got confusing when she couldn't tell who you were." He shakes his head then, his grin growing sharper. "Never mind that... I'm Lucian, darling, I'm a very old friend of your maker."
For: @ofgarnett Where: The Siltshore Mausoleum
He hadn't been here for the Fellowship show for power, the violent attack, unplanned, erratic. He's most thankful for it, knows his obsession for perfection wouldn't had stand for such careless, ridiculous attempt. Acting like the beasts they were hunting. The only thing that's brought them is death upon death, a wrath that's ending them slowly, he presumes. Witches worked with nature, and natured had a way to pay back.
Still, he figures they'd see no difference. The witches, between one and the other, the tattoo on their skin wasn't telling enough. They all worked for the same, to rid the world of the creatures that plagued it. One more forceful than others. But Lucian had never been one to let anything stop him. And as he walked into the Mausoleum, almost feeling the magic around him, he couldn't help but smile.
"I heard..." He pauses, walking closer. "That he mausoleum had come under new... administration." Continuing as his eyes fell on the girl, hands raised in mock surrender. A show that he had come not for destruction. "So I thought perhaps I'd come to make peace with the person in charge... I imagine that's you, love." Smile still in place.
He didn't lower his hands, instead waving his fingers in greetings. "I would love it if we could have a conversation, you and I... no murder involved."
