001 :// Be Respectful. I don't expect this one to be terribly hard. If it is, expect a soft block. If it's absolutely violated, hard block.002 :// No Minors. This blog is 21+ only. Due to mature themes, I do not write with or follow minors, even for the most platonic of content.003 :// Selective and Mutuals Only. I write with mutuals for comfort, for quality. That said, I am always open to new connections. Feel free to send memes or messages to plot.

004 :// No God-Modding or Meta-Gaming. Please don't control my muse, his history, or anything of the like without OOC discussion. Let's collaborate, not dominate.005 :// Slow & Quality Focused I'm a working adult. I work in healthcare. Replies may be slow but rest assured they will be thoughtful. I prioritize mental health and muse over speed.006 :// Dark & Mature Themes Will Appear This blog explores darker subjects (e.g. manipulation, supernatural horror, emotional tension). Everything will be tagged appropriately, please curate your own experience.

007 :// IC =/= OOC Luc may be manipulative, flirty, or antagonistic. This is his voice, not mine. I value communication and boundaries, as should you.008 :// Shipping is Chemistry Based. I love ships - platonic, romantic, chaotic - but unless previously and deeply discussed, they must have buildup, chemistry, and mutual interest. No forced dynamics.009 :// Softblock To Unfollow. Please softblock if you're parting ways. I'll return the gesture. No hard feelings, this blog is NOT for everyone. Keep your space and mental health safe.

• alias: Auron
• age: 33
• pronouns: he / him / they / them
• timezone: est

about the writer :// Hi, I’m Auron — the overcaffeinated disaster behind the curtain.
I run on a delicate blend of hyperfixations, dark humor, and spite-fueled creative bursts. I write to escape the absolute circus that is surviving capitalism, chronic burnout, and the deep betrayal that is working in/around healthcare long enough to say "nah, actually, I’m good."Expect:
-Mild feral energy, especially after midnight
-Oversharing in tags like it’s a sport
-Writing this shithead of a muse with too many feelings and absolutely zero chill
-Wild plots, emotional landmines, and memes at 2amI’m neurodivergent and don’t always vibe with fast-paced socializing—if I vanish, it’s probably because I blinked and lost 3 days to hyperfocus, not because I hate you.That said, I love writing meaningful dynamics, long-term character arcs, and giving our muses emotional trauma with a plotline. If you're down to build something messy, weird, or achingly good? I’m in.

full name.   Lucian D'Anvers
also known as.   Luc
date of birth + age.   unknown. appears lates 20's
gender + pronouns.   male. he/him
orientation.   panromantic/demisexual
occupation.   perception broker, manipulator of fate, professional bad idea
current home.   new orleans, louisiana (verse dependent)
faceclaim.   paul mescalLucian D’Anvers is the smile behind the glass, the silence that stares back, the curiosity you mistake for safety. A creature of veiled truths and perception, Luc is Velvenith—one of the last. Not a demon. Not a god. Something older. Stranger. A relic of the spaces between belief systems, between names. His kind was nearly lost not to battle, but to irrelevance. Subtlety doesn’t survive well in loud worlds. But Luc? He adapted. He learned how to whisper where others screamed. How to make meaning shift without ever lifting a blade.Where others courted chaos with fire and brimstone, Luc seduces it with stillness. With a tilt of the lens. A nudge in the right place. A truth told just too early, or too late.He is not interested in conquest. He is interested in what unravels people quietly. In the delicate undoing. In what someone chooses when they think no one’s watching—especially when he is.Draped in soft luxury and contradiction, Lucian speaks like a scalpel and watches like he’s memorizing you. He doesn’t lie; he lets you bend the truth until it breaks. Candlelit bars, forgotten graveyards, jazz bleeding through old walls—these are his haunts. Places where memory runs thick and time forgets itself. He’s been called muse, monster, myth—but he answers to none of them.Luc's power's are as follows:Perception Weaving: Luc can bend sensory and emotional reality around you, making the world feel altered without ever changing it. A hallway feels longer. A voice sounds colder. You mistake empathy for disdain and comfort for threat—all without a spell being cast.Emotional Mimicry: Luc reflects emotions like a mirror — not just copying them, but amplifying or distorting what’s already there. Around him, joy can become mania. Grief, obsession. Love, unraveling need.

Illusory Presence: He can pass unseen not by becoming invisible, but by slipping beneath notice—like background music or a scent you can’t place. He lingers in the periphery of memory, felt but not pinned.Chrono-Impression: Not time travel—but something adjacent. Luc can sense imprints left in space: moments that have happened, or will happen. He sees them like echoes. Like déjà vu sharpened into clarity.Empathic Signature Tethering: When someone speaks Lucian’s true name with intention, a piece of him latches—allowing him to find them across space and worlds. This link cannot be faked or undone casually. It means something.Dream Interference: Velvenith can walk dreams, though Luc only rarely does. It’s not invasion—it’s observation. But those he visits often wake changed, unsettled, or haunted by things they didn’t think they remembered.Soul Memory Recognition: Luc can feel if a soul has touched him before—across resets, lives, timelines. He remembers you even if you don’t remember him. Especially if you don’t.Ancestral Burn: Rarely used—Velvenith can burn through a name, unraveling a being by stripping their identity thread by thread. This is a last resort. An act of final judgment. It is painful, personal, and irreversible.Luc doesn’t destroy cities. He doesn’t command legions.
He shifts the lens just slightly. Whispers the right thing at the wrong time. Offers you the choice you were never supposed to have—and watches what you do with it.These days, he moves through New Orleans like a rumor. A patron saint of temptation and unraveling.
He rents rooms under names that melt from memory, offers impossible favors for impossible prices, and vanishes before anyone realizes their luck changed the moment he walked in.He doesn’t want worship.
He wants witness.
Not dominion—momentum.
Not love—the ache of being seen and remembered.And if he lingers now… it’s not because he’s lost. It’s because something—or someone—has made him curious enough to stay.

charming.   articulate.   observant.   magnetic.   adaptive.   emotionally elusive.   insatiably curious.   chaotic.   untrustworthy.   evasive.   morally fluid.   manipulative.   commitment phobic.

• Early Centuries

Lucian was not born so much as called forth—a Velvenith, crafted in the still spaces between creation and collapse. The Velvenith were not demons, not truly; they were echoes of something older, rejected by both celestial and infernal realms for being too unpredictable, too entropic, too bound to possibility. Lucian emerged a strange thing even among them: observant, dangerously curious, and too human-shaped in his questions. His earliest memories are of endless mirrors and endless silence, trained to wear glamours like skin, to shape truth like breath, and to watch without acting.He was taught that to be a Velvenith was to be restraint incarnate: to hold the line between observation and interference, between being and unraveling. But Lucian was always a little too loud in his quietness, a little too attached to the mortals he was only supposed to study. Where others fed on pattern, he searched for meaning. Where others waited, he wondered.He did not yet know what he was becoming. Only that he was different—and dangerously so.

• Wandering Years

Once loosed from the wards of his kind, Lucian wandered freely through realms that cracked beneath their own history. He posed as scholar, courtesan, conspirator—whichever mask best suited the gravity of the room. He was never interested in ruling. But he tilted events with precision: a word here, a withheld truth there. He could be friend, lover, destroyer, savior—sometimes all at once—and he learned quickly that most mortals didn’t care what he was, only how he made them feel.But beneath the thrill of it, something gnawed. A hunger that wasn’t for power, or knowledge, but connection. Every lover forgotten, every kingdom fallen—none of it stitched him more solidly into the world he watched. He lingered longer in cities that cried. In places where grief hummed louder than ambition. He watched mortals endure things gods would have shattered beneath. And for the first time, he wondered if his nature—to remain apart—was a flaw, not a virtue.Lucian, the Velvenith who was never meant to belong, began to want something he couldn’t name. He stopped interfering. Started listening. And slowly, the world started listening back.

• Present Day

Lucian D’Anvers lives now like a ghost trying to earn its weight. He moves through New Orleans like the city remembers him—though it shouldn't. He trades in moments, not miracles: a nudge here, a comfort there, a truth you weren’t ready for until now. He no longer performs chaos, but still courts it when necessary, preferring softness as a weapon—words like silk cords, not chains.He no longer hides what he is. But he hides what he feels it means.This is a quieter Lucian. One who sets wards not to keep people out, but to keep himself from falling too far in. He still drinks like someone who remembers dying. Still smiles like he knows how the story ends. But something in him is shifting again—slowly, dangerously, humanly.He has not unmade a world in centuries.
He has not loved like he means it in longer.
But lately… he wonders if he could.And worse—he wonders if someone might remember him,
not for what he is,
but for who he tried to be.

main verse :// canon-based | modern supernatural | new orleans-based
Lucian walks the line between myth and man in the sultry dark of New Orleans. With shifting names and silk-thin lies, he trades in whispered truths and subtle ruin. Known to locals only by the moniker “the velvet devil,” he lingers where fate unravels easiest—bars, art shows, cemeteries, and backrooms where nobody asks too many questions. He doesn’t ask for trust. He earns curiosity, and that’s always been enough.mirror verse ://au | morally grey “fixer” for hire | urban noir
By all appearances, Lucian D’Anvers is just a too-well-dressed man with access to things no one should know. A problem-solver. A negotiator. The one you call when the story’s already gone sideways. What people don’t realize is that he's the one who tilted it in the first place. In this universe, Luc hides his demonic nature behind contracts and “consulting work” for the elite—rewriting memory, bending consequences, and making disappearances look like destiny.velvenith verse:// lore-heavy | demon realm focused | pre-modern
Long before he ever wore a human face, Lucian was a whisper in the void. Among the last surviving Velvenith demons, he moved between forgotten libraries and collapsing temples, haunting the halls of higher demons who underestimated the power of perception. In this verse, he’s not charming. He’s ancient. Alien. His smile doesn’t translate, and his power is unrestrained. Here, Luc is closer to what he truly is: the undoing with a face.eden verse :// original lore courtesty based off of @hauntedgod's created fictional town of Eden | post-war reconstruction | haunted americana
Lucian returns to Eden a ghost in a man’s skin—less a prodigal son than a ruin made flesh. Once worshipped, once feared, now whispered about like a curse that didn’t stay buried. The town he left behind is all cracked pavement and quiet suspicion, his family long vanished and their house half-swallowed by ivy. He moves through Eden like a memory—unwelcome, unshakable—fixing what he can with calloused hands and sleepless guilt. There are things in the woods that remember him. And there are people in town who wish they didn’t.

southern gothic verse :// slow haunt. bayou-born. too pretty to be trusted. Lucian D’Anvers came into town like a ghost you accidentally remember—charming, too well-dressed, and far too calm for a man who bought the rotting estate on Hollow Hill with cash and a half-smile. Folks say he’s cursed, or maybe he is the curse—since he showed up, the bayou’s turned strange: voices echo twice, animals won’t cross his fence, and good Christian girls keep waking with blood on their palms and dreams they won’t speak of. Luc never lies. He just lets the land do it for him. And if you find yourself knocking on his door in the middle of the night, don’t ask what he is. Ask what you’re willing to give up to find out.mortal verse:// au | human | cursed | slow descent
Lucian is almost normal in this world. A former psychology student turned antique dealer, he inherits a cursed mirror that begins to fracture his perception. Over time, he starts seeing things others can’t: ghostlike reflections, moments that haven’t happened yet, faces with no names. As his grip on reality falters, Luc discovers he's not entirely himself—and something old is watching from behind the glass, wearing his smile.redemption verse :// post-betrayal | reluctant ally | emotionally scarred
Something went wrong. Whether it was a deal he didn’t mean to break or someone he truly wanted to save, Lucian made a choice that cost more than he expected. Now, he’s tethered to a mortal contract or bound by blood to a cause he doesn’t believe in—but can’t walk away from. In this verse, Luc struggles with the idea that he’s capable of change. He’s still a trickster. Still dangerous. But for the first time… he might not want to be.