#c.hunter

[containatrocity]

"If I'm there to catch you when you fall- You'll have a friend down in Hell after all..." The last week had been. Weird, to say the least, busy, marked with work- restoring the intranet, checking on injured friends and looking after Russell to lighten Sissy's load- It had been almost an act of desperation, radioing G and Wren to see if they had the time to sit around and play something, anything, to pass the time, to latch onto a little normalcy around the stress of trying to 'live in the after' for what felt like the hundredth time that year. They were down a few members, Cyan and G slumped onto a dirty couch in the Romero garage, feet propped up and guitars across their laps, Wren absently playing a wooden box between her feet for percussion- it was a break from reality.

Reality comes creeping alongside Hunter Hilton, who is also creeping further out of town than Cyan tends to see him. "And if you're there to catch me when I fall- Then maybe Hell ain't so bad-" He lifts a hand, waving slightly to quiet the instruments. "You lost, Hilton?" Comes the question, a raised brow over sunglasses quickly tucked into his hair. "If you're trying to round two Mo, he's not here." Word traveled fast, it seems.

@oxtofmydcpth

[hunterjohnson]

Wild Dogs of Africa Endangerd © C.Hunter Johnson

[hunterjohnsontv]

World Music C.Hunter Johnson Pyramids of Egypt

[cxcavaleri-blog]

@hunter-redbird

He hadn’t meant to be here. Not just the Pines, in general. (Though that, of course, still stood.) The diner. Mamma’s. At barely seven in the morning. God-awful hour. When did he even wake up? Had he slept? Cody swayed on his feet, hovering where he’d slowed to a stop on the corner. Hadn’t slept much, if he did. Couldn’t blame it on the old house this time. The Lodge was noisy too, and the sheets had - this sounded weird, maybe it was, but, God - they’d just smelled. A lot. Really intense detergent, or something. Never been bothered by something like that before, but, hell, guess the cleaning crew had just really gone to town. So he’d snuck out, gone for a walk. A long, long walk. How many miles was it to town? When was the last time he’d walked that far? For anything?

Half-dazed, Cody had just followed his feet. Nursed a cigarette down to the filter he’d just flicked into some parking lot puddle. Go figure he’d wind up at this particular door. It’d been so long...

Nope. Nope, not going there. Shouldn’t be going in, either. But he could really, really use a coffee. The lights had just gone on, and... when had he last eaten, anyway? A week without a schedule to keep, and look at him. Cody sighed, miserably, and held out a few more minutes. Then, fine. Fine. Slinking through the doors, he took a stool at the counter. Somebody was in the back; could hear footsteps, things sliding, picked up, put down. Scraping. Clicking. Fuck, even the lights were loud. He wasn’t even hungover. Christ. His head had sunk into his hands, eyes screwed shut. The kitchen door swung, whined. Cody jerked up, summoning the perkiest smile he could. Pretty perky. “Hi - Hunter. Hey.” Really? Really? “Ah... nice morning,” was it? Staring down a sweet, starstruck smalltown guy, at the asscrack of the day, as he pulled together his best not-a-complete-fucking-wreck act? Oh, yeah. Top ten, as mornings went. For sure. “I’d love a coffee, whenever it’s up. No rush.” None at all.

[crescentkiera]

orphanwitchwolf​:

Hunter had been rather quiet since coming back. He was still recovering but now he was able to do a little more than before. He was able to move over to the deck outside the house and sat himself on the swing. He needed the air and he wanted to get out of the house. Although it was cold, he had a jacket and blanket on him. “I’m so glad to finally be out of that house.” He admitted not really talking to anyone.

@mysticofthefallenstarter

-

With seeing her brother back it only seemed right that Kiera stop by the house to see her nephew Hunter. Hands tucked into her leather jackets pockets she walked up the steps onto the porch finding him on the swing. “You shouldn’t be out of the hospital from what I’m told you little shit.” She says though there is a smile on her face despite her words as she takes the spot next to him.

Hunter had been rather quiet since coming back. He was still recovering but now he was able to do a little more than before. He was able to move over to the deck outside the house and sat himself on the swing. He needed the air and he wanted to get out of the house. Although it was cold, he had a jacket and blanket on him. "I'm so glad to finally be out of that house." He admitted not really talking to anyone.

@mysticofthefallenstarter

[hunterstechnodreams-blog]

(C.Hunter)

Were Going Deep Underground Set ! Etwas chilliges  für Euch!

[salemspoint-blog]

❝ I’ve been a saint, I’ve been the truth, I’ve been the lie. ❞

» Natalie Mercer » Thirty » Hunter » Deputy at Salem's Point Police Department » Caity Lotz

Physical Appearance —

Life on the run leaves no time for fashion or shopping. Natalie used to dress to the tens when she had previously lived in Salem. Always putting her best foot forward but since her Aunt’s return to her life and her decision to live under the shadows she started to dress simply. A simple shirt and some jeans were everything she was able to pack in her backpack, and it became her regular outfit. Her hair is always braided or in a pony tail, rarely does she let it down. Natalie never says more than she needs to. Rarely does she let someone in. She had a solid wall around herself and though she believes that there is nothing good left in her she does show compassion to people in her own way. When she talks to someone she is always listening to them and wanting to help them to the best way that she can. Her regrets and mistakes eat her alive but she is a silent person and if she was burning she would be the last one to point that out and would tolerate the pain. The anger has managed to shape Nat into someone that is short with her words and tends to express no emotions. She used to smoke whenever she was tense or stressed, it was the tell that gave her away but now that it is a constant state, she classifies herself as a smoker.

Personality Traits —

♦ Discreet, observant and resourceful ♢ Abrasive, destructive and determined

Biography —

Only a few people get to be left behind and disappear themselves. Natalie Mercer happened to just win that lottery. When she was eight years old she saw the last of her parents. It had been so simple and comical in the dark twisted way. They had just left to go get some groceries and never came back. Her aunt didn’t even hesitate to pronounce them dead. For the years coming up Natalie believed that was because nothing good happened in town. It wouldn’t be till much later that she would actually understand what had taken place. Eight years old she saw her entire life be packed up in a couple of gym bags and two boxes. The woman was then shipped off to Colorado with her aunt and other hunters. It should be noted that Natalie had always been the odd ball out. Even when she was young she had befriended the werewolves next door and promised them that no harm would happen to them if they didn’t hurt anyone. The brown hair girl never saw why there had to be hate towards what someone was and not what they had done. That was a trait that her aunt was not okay with. In fact, it was the one trait that she tried to claw out of Natalie with violence, physical and verbal abuse.

At a young age the woman took advantage of the young brunette and would often starve her and other times push her to murder whoever they captured. Whenever she asked about her parent’s whereabouts Natalie was isolated out of the camp for days. Natalie had believed that those days would come to an end when she didn’t get the blessing after all her parents were missing and no one gave a kid a blessing without their parents. That small hope that Natalie had been holding onto ended up coming crashing down on her when she turned seventeen, that was when her aunt requested that the blessing for her kids be placed on Natalie, after all, Natalie’s aunt wasn’t able to have kids so she was making damn certain that her legacy stood the test of time. So when the witches granted it Natalie stopped being some orphan that had been taking in. Instead, her aunt started to look at the brunette as property. As an investment that she did her best to protect with the constant training, sending her on hunts that she lacked experience, and pushing her to her limits.

Soon Natalie realized how to handle the situation. Natalie became everything her aunt wanted only in front of her. Behind closed doors, she was sick with herself, she did her best to not kill anyone that hadn’t committed a wrong, but at times she wasn’t able to choose. The guilt drove her to shut down. Even after her aunt murdered a childhood friend that managed to get bitten the hunter didn’t dream about crossing her. Natalie believed that this was normal after all this was the only family she had ever known. The hunter did not want to appear to be selfish. Her aunt could’ve tossed her aside and not want anything to do with her. But instead, she took in the complication that was Natalie and fed and bed her. That was until she met an older male in her early college years. The two were never supposed to be a thing. Everything about their relationship screamed that it would end up in flames. He had been honest and told her what he was from the start as she was. Honestly had never been a downfall of theirs. Just ask quickly as she met him she trusted him. Both were aware of how fucked up each others family was but she brought him home. For the first time standing up against her aunt and defying her. Their relationship was the first time that she was actually able to breathe again but it would be short-lived compared to the pain that was soon to come. Her aunt guilt tripped Natalie on going on a hunting trip that Natalie still wasn’t prepare for, not to mention she had just had finals and was not at her best. The hunter almost died in the hands of a vampire, she should’ve died was what everyone said but out of nowhere, she came back. When she came back home, she came back to an empty house, her boyfriend was gone. Without a note or an explanation.

The break up was the second emotional pang that she wished she could erase. Half the time she had been worried that something had happened. Then the other half she wished something did happen to him. Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months, soon she realized that she had to close that chapter of her life. She joined the police academy which ended up being allowed only if Natalie ended up staying with a family friend. A friend that her aunt had trusted would make her into the ruthless hunter that her parents had once been. It never managed to become a reality because the family friend ended up being more like a brother to Natalie than a friend of her aunt. He was more than aware of the abuse that Natalie had suffered but neither of them ever talked about it. Besides the town was always throwing grenades at her for her to even contemplate being more ruthless than she was. During one of the curses, Natalie managed to discharge her gun ending the life of an innocent person. She placed herself on desk duty for the longest time till friends reached out and pulled her out. Then there had been the whole getting kidnapped incident. All these took place while she started to get close to someone else.

As a hunter, she took part in the hunter community right away. After all, she had connections with most of them and kept in touch. No one ever did see her second guess her kills or even regret being a hunter. Natalie didn’t go around telling people what they were doing wrong, she kept things to herself. But always was there when she was needed and never hesitated to have her blade cut deep into the monsters. A co-worker and fellow hunter soon were able to give her an update about her family. There was a lead that her parents had not died – instead, they had been bitten and ran away cause they knew their family would kill them. So they left Natalie behind and now they had two other daughters and a family within the same pack that she had once befriend when she had been younger. Her aunt ended up being proven right once again – she shouldn’t have dug around because the next thing that she could recall was being surrounded by three werewolves. It would be easy to plea self-defense but what she did to them was everything her aunt had taught her. That line that she had refused to cross all those years had been crossed that line. It wouldn’t go unnoticed, especially since her aunt managed to stumble upon the scene. Natalie didn’t know how to grasp the reality that her parents had been alive all these years and never thought to check up on her. That they had assumed that she would hate them like she had been taught versus giving her a chance. And now she had blood on her hands, she had become everything her aunt had demanded. She was not able to actually process the situation because her aunt’s grin ended up being plastered throughout her head. Her words echoing in her head. That provoked Natalie to turn to the witch and ask him to erase their memories. Saying that would be the last time he saw her. For whatever reason, he decided to agree and it was done.

The next months she had nightmares but turned to her new relationship to get rid of them. Natalie had foolishly thought that a memory wipe would be enough to bury her skeletons but life quickly reminded her of reality. Five years ago – during one of her patrol walks she was taken. The ride back to Colorado was a complete haze and the next image that she being back in that same hole when she had been 15. Quickly she lost track of the days and her entire focus was to survive the next obstacle her aunt could possibly think. When she was finally released she had realized months had passed by. It had felt longer and yet it had just been 120 days. It became obvious that she wouldn’t be able to leave. Her aunt managed to blackmail her into staying with the fact that there was a pack of werewolves that wanted Natalie’s head on a silver plate. It was not till Mikael, her nineteen-year-old childhood friend, managed to break down her door and plea to her to stop her aunt from killing his girlfriend that was a werewolf.

For a couple of days, the hunter was not going to do anything. After all, this was just the circle of life. This was a lesson that he had to learn in order to prevent any future pain. But after a bottle of tequila, she found herself thinking otherwise. That night she ended up turning against the hunters and protected Mikael’s girlfriend, which led to her becoming an enemy and being attacked. Natalie barely escaped the fight alive. She would’ve ended up dead if Mikael hadn’t called her ex into saving her. Which was an action that was going to change the course of Natalie’s life forever? At the same time her own family was going up in flames so was Lucas’s. One of his elders ended up confronting Natalie about her ex’s accident and things became violent when Natalie refused to answer anything which managed for Natalie to become physically violent with an elder. At the end of the day the entire apartment ended up being damaged and Natalie delivered the final stab to the witch. It was during that confrontation that she learned that her ex-had healed her that night that Mikael had called him. Natalie was in deep water with an entire pack wanting her dead, her former fellow hunters, and now her ex’s coven did too.

With the hot-headed individual that Natalie was, she told them all to come at her. Her ex, on the other hand, had another solution. He managed to propose to Natalie. Portraying the entire thing as a business deal, one where his family would get off his back about the future and his nasty habit of always protecting Natalie and one where the supernatural would think twice before going after her. Around this time Mikael ended up disappearing into thin air. Another thing that marriage to a witch would give was giving her access to tools that she didn’t have. Natalie tried to locate Mikael with her hunter skills but nothing worked. Instead, she ended up running into Jeremiah Ainsworth who managed to confess to Natalie that no one had looked for her after she disappeared and that they had all acted as if she had never existed. That the guy had moved on – it was the first time she had seen Jeremiah be so honest, and he confessed it was because he had also seen his own version play out the same. So after weeks of yelling at each other Natalie gave in and got married in private. For an entire day, Natalie and her ex-didn’t banter or become petty with each other. For one day Natalie wore a beautiful white gown. And it felt similar to the days when they had been each other’s best versions of each other.

For two years Natalie did the marriage thing. Natalie knew she couldn’t leave because of the enemies that she had managed to make outside. But every passing day that she didn’t hear from Mikael she worried more and more. Till the point where she couldn’t stay still anymore. Not like that was the only reason that she picked up her bags and left. Her husband’s family demanded too much from Natalie, things that she knew she would not be able to give. On top of that, her aunt had located her and managed to draw her out by threatening to kill Clark’s baby sister that had managed to get triggered. Natalie didn’t believe her but showed up to the location and there enough was Cammy being tortured to the fullest. The sight of the smaller Clark being abused by the same hands that she had, was enough for Natalie to let go of any fight and give into her aunt’s demands. So a deal was made with the devil – her life for Cammy’s, and Natalie accepted the terms after all she was given little choice but to leave and follow her aunt wherever she wanted.

But as soon as Natalie was able to escape from her aunt she did. And ever since then she has been on the run, with the help of Zeke she has been able to be one step ahead of her aunt and both have been working to locate Mikael. Interesting turn of events since she would have never probably trusted Zeke before and now he is the one that she is the closest with. It was during this time that she dyed her hair blonde, as a symbol of change. During the past three years, Natalie wasn’t able to be a law enforcement because her aunt knew all the connections and how to get info so she with the help of her previous friends she became a hire for kill during the mornings and a hunter at night, traveling throughout the country and killing supernatural beasts. There were moments when she needed help and would call Zeke to come and help her out. With the three years, she managed to go from an adequate hunter to a specialist. It was during this time that she would help people deal with their supernatural troubles for the exchange of money and food. The woman that had once dreamed about a family got used to living in a studio apartment and living on a paycheck.

The woman excelled at her hunter skills. She put all her focused on her hunting cause if she was going to be hunted for killing, then she was going to kill as many as she could. Though the blonde managed to make it into her own job she started to just haunt those that hunted others for no reason. She never checked on Salem because she didn’t want to be reminded of the people that she had managed to hurt. Her ex-was someone that she had hoped would’ve moved on and created a better life for himself. She never planned to go back but she started to get short and strange calls from Zeke, that allowed her to know that something was up. Then Natalie got a phone call that Clark’s sister was back in Salem and it was only a matter of time before her aunt came, so she decided to make the one phone call to Zeke to let him know she was coming back home.

[0helli]

Unknown Number

ANON: I think it's safe to say this is your secret admirer.

ANON: I've been watching you for some time now.

ANON: And waiting for you to notice me, but you're kind of bad at that. No offense, but I'm kind of hard to miss, you dum-dum

tridenthunter

[winter-fae]

{Theo had been traumatized. He probably should have been passed out like Bradley was but he was far to frightened to shut his eyes, fearing that Hunter would be there when he opened them again. He was alone, with the exception of a sleeping Bradley. So the boy tried his magic. Much to his surprise it worked. His body shrunk, and the cuffs fell to the bed with nothing to hold onto. Theo was tiny and he was free. The little naked fairy flexed his sore wings and was about to go see if he could fit under the door or something.}

[containatrocity]

"She's just eating a lot of weird stuff now, I guess that's normal. The books say that's normal." Cyan flicks ash from the end of his joint, passing it back to G with a nod. "Hey, I'll see you around dude- you and Wren still up for practice next week? Sissy usually doesn't need me on Rusty's days off, so." It's an affirmative from the other man who lifts a hand in a wave and walks off toward town proper that confirms their plans for later, and releases Cyan to sit back down on the open doorway of his van.

He's about to uncork a bottle of mead and set to work wiping rental drives when footsteps coming up the drive catch his attention again. "You forget some shit G? It's probably sitting on the coun- Fuck me." His slight smile drops into a hard scowl, tattooed arms crossing over his chest. "To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit, Hilton?" He'd known he was in town, to be fair. Val had already informed him of at least one sexual encounter Cyan was loathe to think about the details of- He just had hoped he could manage to avoid him longer. "Which face-fucking is this? Have you reached the double digits yet?"

@oxtofmydcpth

[hunterjohnson]

Music for love & kindness by C.Hunter Johnson

[hunterjohnsontv]

#c.Hunter Johnson

[hunterstechnodreams-blog]

(C.Hunter)

Hardtrance Dreams Set  Just for FUN and Party Hard

[salemspoint-blog]

❝ And that truth is you did everything you could. ❞

» Braxton Turrall » Forty » Hunter » Mechanic at Mike's Motors » Dylan McDermott

Physical Appearance —

Braxton is very laid back and his appearance depicts that. With his scruffy face and hair typically a mess he doesn’t care much for what people think about him. His collection of oil stained shirts and jeans covered in holes that he made and didn’t pay for from years of working for his keep. His boots he wears till the bottoms fall off and the same pretty much goes for everything else. All of his belongs are either well used or brand new and will eventually become well used. He does no how to clean up when he needs to but he hasn’t had the need to in quite some time.

Personality Traits —

♦ Loyal, calm and responsible ♢ Boastful, compulsive and sarcastic

Biography —

Braxton grew up in Georgia but moved up north with his family because of the need to find work. His dad worked in any factory he could get a job in as he grew up and Braxton spent most of his time helping his mother with his younger siblings. Braxton was a good wholesome kid and was taught the values of hard work and diligence early on in his life from both parents. His mother being the more gentle of the two and quiet honestly Braxton’s favorite, nurtured her son into being the fine young man he turned out to be.

In high school, Braxton learned quickly the effect he had on woman, and used it to his advantage in anyway possible. He graduated with the help of seducing fellow, students, a couple teachers, and even one of the guidance counselors. He had no shame in it but in his move to college he found himself worrying about partying a lot more than studying. He slates college as the place he found his soulmate. Genevieve. She was his college sweetheart until he got kicked out and even then stuck with him. They moved into together and he supported her while she continued her education. He loved her more than he could love anything else in the world. The first woman to ever break him of his ways and make him settle down. She broke him down so bad he even went out and bought a ring proposing to her. His mama more surprised than ever at the sight of her son actually getting married. They were happy and he was happy. The happiest he had ever been, they travelled together enjoying their life with each other before settling in a little town in West Virginia. The spot where they decided to start a family.

Braxton was more than ready to make the jump and be a father, he was more excited that Genevieve by a mile. He made sure he was off for every doctor visit and every other thing Genevieve wanted to make sure they had their nose in. He was going to be the father to a baby boy, and that just made him even more excited. He would get to teach him everything, even all the things he was learning from his friend. He had taken the meaning of hunter a little too lightly at that point. Genevieve had opted for home birth, she had found a woman she trusted to be her midwife, he had his suspicions like every man but he supported his wife in everything she wanted to chase. Until labor came and he watched the life pass from his wife’s beautiful green eyes and held a baby boy that never got to take his first breath.

He later discovered the midwife was a witch, his friend breaking the news and telling him he knew but he didn’t want to tell Braxton. To which Braxton’s determination and anger made him an even more angry and determined student, seeking revenge on the witch that made him lose his family. Natural causes they had said, he knew she had something to do with it and his drive to get his revenge made him nearly crazy.

It wasn’t till he got his revenge that he returned to his calm and typical demeanor, hunting when he needed to not seeing a need in killing anything excessively except maybe a witch gone bat shit. He didn’t mind hacking through one of those, anything to keep another man from going through the loss that he had to face. He isn’t ashamed of the life he has lived and he is more than willing to sit on his front porch in Salem’s Point and tell anyone all about his past.

[containatrocity]

"You're not worth the shovel in frozen earth it'd take to hide the fucking body." Comes the dagger-sharp reasoning for why he relents- and then Hunter spits in his face- something Cyan clearly remembers, because as Hunter hits the concrete floor of the Romero garage, Cyan steps over him, hunkering down to eye level where the other man's fallen to his knees- and ever the type to kick a man when he's down- and just angry enough to forget he's desperately trying not to be that type anymore- he returns the favor, dragging head back by blonde locks and making a point to wipe the blood from his face in view- then spitting on him, all the same. He speaks again, japanese just as coarse and angry as his English. "You dumb motherfucker. Shut up. Stay down."

"Silas!" That's not G, the booming voice of Mallard Romero sounding from the side door- Wren and G peering around his shoulder. Cyan jolts, stepping back and away from Hunter on the floor. "Now what in the sam hell is goin' on out here!?" Duck's still imposing on a cane and bandaged up, shooting a glance between Cyan, busted, bloodied knuckled and streaked with spit and blood- and Hunter, crying on the floor. "Canne-"

"He fucking asked for it. And it was long overdue, alright? I'll scrub the blood out of the concrete."

"Boy, I'm scoldin' you because you just spit on a man in the most unsportsmanlike way I've seen since I was scrappin' in high school." He sighs, leans more heavily onto his cane. "That's as good a tap out as anything. Get him offa the floor and take 'im home, Westfall. Cyan. House. now. You're damn lucky I like you enough t' not tell Genesis or Russell about this." Cyan shrinks.

"Mr. Romero I-"

"Yeah. I know. Get inside." Cyan spares one last glance back at Hunter- before G is ushering him away. "You're tellin' em about this little outburst yerself, soon as we get the influencer blood offa your person... Anger and egos like that'll eat ya alive, boy leave ya a hollow husk a' shit. That there's a warning for both of you." He calls behind Hunter, limping back into the house and shutting the door behind.

”Shut the fuck up man,” Hunter rolled his eyes, directing his words to the guy on the couch, clearly annoyed at the interruption to his and Cyan’s necessary conversation. Sure Hunter had been the one to interrupt their little jam session but that was over now. The big boys were taking now.

Cyan’s words were pointed, but Hunter again rolled his eyes and scoffed in his face. “I understand what a fucking friend is. Mo and Val were mine too.” And they genuinely had been. Mo had been something of a confidant and Val knew Hunter better than most people outside of Huntsville did. It was just that everything between them all came crashing down so incredibly quickly, and Hunter was once again a lone soul traversing town by himself. "I mean...I..." he didn't get much chance to interject, Cyan clearly passionate in his aggressive opinion on Hunter, but he did raise some valid points that Hunter had yet to think of. How much did he really know about his friends aside the fact they worked here? How much did he really know about Val aside from her being really good in bed? That was his girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. But that wasn't what upset him the most. "People fucking care. They care about me and what I do and what I have to say. People-" he stopped, Cyan now on his feet prompting Hunter to take a single step back, and he swallowed hard. He'd not seen Cyan close to being this angry in a long time, and with his new physique Hunter couldn't help feel himself shrinking, even if his face still read that he was ready to fight.

There wasn't a chance to fight, for the third time since arriving a fist came at him with no prior warning, clocking him in the jaw and sending him stumbling back. A sudden pressure on his chest, winding him, and another solid hit to his face again. Hunter was dazed, confused, the room spinning, a sick feeling throbbing within his stomach and the now familiar metallic tang collecting in his mouth. Cyan was shouting, but he couldn't make out the words, body growing heavy and wanting to drop to the ground but being picked up again by illustrated hands. Although some things he could make out, and he forced a laugh, spitting crimson into Cyan's face. "G-gonna kill me...are...ya?" that had to be a bluff, "dare ya."

He had a way of winding people up, even when he knew it was no good for him, one punch away from unconsciousness and he’d still grin and push them further. Cyan knew this and yet he persisted. Something pent up, directed straight at Hunter Hilton with nothing to stop it. Hunter again didn’t know what he was saying, hearing the words less and less, eyes speckled with growing tears desperate to flutter themselves closed despite the hand now controlling where he could look. All he could see was Cyan’s face. The snarl. The eyes. And then his grip was released, a light patting on the side of his cheek that stung with the oncoming bruising. He tried to remain stood but instead fell to his knees, vision blurry, watching as Cyan turned away from him. Hunter mumbled some words but nothing coherent came out. Palms pressed to the ground, tears splattering on the garage floor with blood drops inbetween, he gritted his teeth but they get numb, all of him felt numb apart from his face. He wanted to stand, but gravity felt stronger, keeping him there. “Y-you…you f-fuck. You…I…y-“

[salemspoint-blog]

❝ Little soldier boy, when will you remember, this is not who you were. Now you just kill without remorse and dread the morning light. Little soldier boy, where was your innocence lost. ❞

» Zeke Callen » Twenty-six » Hunter » Security at Knife's Edge » Bob Morley

Physical Appearance —

Zeke has always been a very well put together person without all the effort that goes with it. His unruly hair hasn’t seen a comb or brush in years and takes nothing more than a quick tug of fingers through his hair to tousle it out of his face. Plain t-shirts are his go to, generally matched with dark jeans or cargo’s and even those he was issued with in the military. Boots scuffed to all hell and stained with questionable dark marks. Whatever he wears is usually worn because of it’s capacity to conceal weapons, pockets, ties, etc. He doesn’t often wear jackets, they don’t do much for the fact of overall sudden movement, but bomer’s are usually his staple, draped over the passenger seat of his truck or discarded on the floor of his home. His body is marred in multiple scars, most of which he couldn’t tell you how he got them, however, his chest in particular is quite a shock to see, the markings left behind from a curse more covering more than sixty percent of his abdomen. Zeke has the date of his parents death tattooed across the curve of his right hip though he has no intentions of getting anything else permanently marked on him.

His sharp tongue cuts through most conversations, a deep timbre that is difficult to miss, Zeke carries himself like a man built for war. Every step he takes is with reason and everything he does has purpose. If he can get away with standing still for hours, he will – already trained to become unnoticable to the naked eye. He’s never slouched a day in his life and he will always opt to stand with his back to a solid wall rather than an opening of any kind. His life began at thirteen and ever since he’s found ways to adapt himself into a predator, rather than living helplessly as prey. His broad shoulders often make him look much bigger than he is though he often uses that to his advantage in terms of intimidation tactics, not that he very well needs to be intimidating, his overall demeanor holds enough of it already. Collected and calm, Zeke more often than not seems bored in the face of discord and chaos, but he merely functions better with a clear purpose in mind; survival.

Personality Traits —

♦ Ambitious, protective, and cunning ♢ Callous, impulsive, and sadistic

Biography —

Lego pieces in the shapes of bullets. Sturdy and silver, clinking together in dark pockets always seemed to pull the attention of a bright eyed, curly haired boy barely capable of reaching high enough to delve into the depths. Stories of nightmares that couldn’t possibly be real, of people turning into animals and creatures that fed off the blood within his very veins all plagued his growing days. Lessons in how to be evasive, to slip undetected, to cause maximum damage with a closed fist all before his mother called them inside for dinner; Zeke Callen didn’t live a life of any normal child, but he found it difficult to wish for anything other than what he got. A doting mother who would have given him the wold, had he chosen the path of anything other than family legacy. A father passionate and in-tune with a protective streak that no human parent would ever think to consider. Bruises became something to be proud of, broken bones just another obstacle to overcome and neither was he left to believe that one or the other would ever break him.

Born to Benjamin and Allison Callen, both highly respected hunters of their time, Zeke was never meant to live the life that his ancestry had paved for him; his parents had never wanted it. Normalcy. Family. Children. Hope. He was to live a life filled with hope. With a mouthful of laughter and a heart bursting of the kind of love that made his chest feel like breaking open to allow heartbeat to echo throughout time. The Callen boy was given the knowledge of everything his parents could give him – handed to him on a silver platter, but taught to turn a blind eye. For every darkness that lingered on every corner, he was to know and protect in the most basic sense. To be prepared, yes, but for it to be all consuming, to rule his every god given breath?

Over their dead bodies.

Oh but an idiom as such has never been quite so ironic.

There had to have been a dozen people. There were too many pieces, he’d thought. Thirteen years old, restrained by officers as he fought tooth and nail to push past the boundary of the crime scene, trying so desperately to believe that the massacre his once bright eyes took in wasn’t just his parents. How could it be? Ripped limb from limb, shredded, features so disfigured they wouldn’t allow him to identify his own family. It could have been anyone, but the faint scent of his mothers perfume and the bullets no bigger than those god damn Lego pieces that spilled from his fathers pocket were enough. Something had destroyed every ounce of innocence he had that night; for how could any child hold onto it while looking at the mutilated corpses of the very people that ensure that innocence remained in tact?

Over their dead bodies…

Zeke took his first few steps onto the road previously paved for him since the day he was born, destined to never once stray from it ever again. Devotion to the cause, belief in his oath and a burning sense of responsibility became a constant ripple across the skin of someone no longer a boy – and nowhere close to ever being a man. Leaving Salem’s Point behind was easy, he did it without question and without complaint. What else could he learn here that his parent’s hadn’t already taught him? The world was a dangerous place, and how better to learn how to fight it, than throwing yourself head first into the very pits of hell. For years he traveled alone, picking up the telltale signs of other hunters, learning and adapting to everything they could throw at him – gaining his blessing at the young age of sixteen. Bruises and broken bones were no longer something to be proud of, no longer a stagnant reminder that he was just a boy – they were a warning, a screaming premonition of how utterly fragile he still was. How every wrong move could end his life. Any hunter worth the bullets they carry would claim you never stopped learning, that the supernatural world was constantly filled with curve balls, nothing you’d ever expect; forcing you to learn on your feet; but less than five years on his own gave Zeke every tiny facet of knowledge he would need, but knowledge didn’t keep him alive, knowledge didn’t ensure the safety of others; in the end, you could only win a war if you were willing to rage against the enemy.

Enlisting was yet another thing that came with little to no hesitation for him, and over the years he climbed his way through the ranks with a determination unlike any other. What difference did fighting one war have against another? So the molecular make up of those he fought against while on tour might not have been quite as complicated as those he riddled with silver or wooden bullets back home, war was war. One way or another he walked away with a body marred with scars and a driven thirst for more. Anyone who ever claimed justice or revenge sated any kind of desperation had so very clearly never been entirely consumed by the idea of it. Nothing brought him any closer to feeling that weight lift from his shoulders, and from the moment he ended his final tour, Zeke threw himself head first into the war he’d left behind, molded and shaped into something entirely different. No longer a weapon created by witches, but a soldier, built and bred for combat; now as in tune with every sense he still had as his father, as cunning as his mother, and more deadly with his hands than his parents ever could have dreamed to be together.

Buried within every skill, every ability he’d been blessed with and conditioned himself to learn, no matter how effective, never quite brought him any closer to closure; regardless of the fact that he’d never openly sought it. He didn’t want to find the creature that did it – he didn’t want to slay the monsters that had torn his life apart, quite literally. He just wanted blood – all of it. The blood of every supernatural he ever lived to lay eyes on. Without remorse, he tore through the country, state by state. blood staining his skin so brightly that the crimson never seemed to fade from the pigment of his own flesh. But blood never came without a price, and no hunter would ever survive without knowing as much. Karma, bad luck, call it what you will — but finding people in a life so full of chaos and destruction will always be a difficult concept to understand. To have it, to hold it – to know that someone is waiting for you, for just a glimpse of blood spattered features is a concept that is generally beyond any hunters thoughts. Too much baggage, too many problems, too many secrets – was it ever really worth finding someone you wanted to keep alive? To Zeke, he didn’t want to protect any one person, only himself and anyone he could without direct contact. Isolation was how he preferred everything. Until he met her. A woman so enthralling that he hated how easy it was to look past his own rules. He spent months with her, months falling and months clawing for anything to stop himself from diving into depths he’d never be prepared for. And he never would be — discovering the woman’s lineage had been enough to send his heart into cardiac arrest. Werewolf. A hatred that had long lived in his veins boiled to the surface and Zeke, after multiple attempt, finally managed a bullet between her eyes. Cold and blue; lacking the light and warmth that he would never forget.

Tragedy didn’t excuse anything; he didn’t mourn, he didn’t grieve. He left town like it was nothing at all – like she’d been nothing more than another job. Stoic features never left the road ahead of him and for months he continued on his way until he found himself back in the town where everything had began; both literally for the world he lived in, and for himself. Everything had began in the streets of Salem’s point, everything he knew and everything he wanted had changed on the black bitumen of winding roads, his mind still determined to make him remember. The pools of red that slipped between the rocks coated in tar, and as if he were punishing the memories themselves, he simply added to it. Supernatural after Supernatural. Packs; coven members, anyone he could lay his hands on; too few survived to admire his relentlessness until he found one other. Kindred spirits, bloodied palms to match his and an unwavering ability to ignore the conscience, to ignore guilt and compassion. Tripp Blais became one of the only hunters he ever worked with. His moral alignment didn’t clash with his; he never had to answer questions, never had to defend his actions. It was cut and dry; hunt or be hunted.

Coming back to Salem’s Point has only been a reminder; a burning brand inside his skull that he’d always been on the right side. His moral compass might have been well beyond broken, and he might never quite find his way back through all the blood and gore that festered beneath his fingernails, but he knew for sure that protection for those that couldn’t protect themselves would never come from creating laws and governing halls; it would come from the blade at his hip and the gun at his back, the twisted knuckles and sharpened mind that had become his greatest weapon since the moment his parents hearts froze in their chest.

I pledge, to give my mortal life to the cause, to protect the innocent, to bring about justice, to rid the world of the supernatural stain. To live in the shadows of our world and theirs. So that those who may never know of the horrors unleashed, never have to.