#she has a real gift though. no plot twist involving recognizing faces works on her she figures who's who immediately

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

My sister just knocked on my bedroom door, she silentely entered and asked with the most earnestly confused face I've ever seen: Is that topless Jeff Bridges in the living room? Wha-why do you have that?

Me (an intellectual): aRhjslalfkjamahdjsk no! Humhmm I mean yeah!

Her: "Do it for him?"

Me: O-oh haha you never seen that? I-It's a famous simpsons meme! It's great I'll show you later. Wait wtf how did you find out it was him ?

(it's important to note here that I forgot my printer didn't have any black so the image that came out was a mishapen mess of pink blobs.)

Her: The curvature of the neck!

This is the og meme

This is what came out:

[neptunesrubies]

So about that writing I mentioned...

I know I just said I might share my writing if I was comfortable but hey you guppies are good at the feedback right? So before I share a snippet of my baby I should probably give you summary so you aren’t completely lost: 

Penelope Warren is the first female vampire hunter in the London Counsel of Hunters. She’s out to prove that she belongs in the Counsel and is every bit as good as her male counter parts. When she’s given an assignment that puts her fang to face with the Prince of Vampires her will is shaken. She discovers a family secret that tips her world upside down before it fully spirals out of control when she is held captive by Prince and must put her strength to the test. 

So that’s all I can really do to sum up what I have so far without spoiling anything. Please provide feedback if you’re a fellow writer and also keep in mind it is currently unedited and might have some grammatical errors and/or typos. I might post the story on here if I feel up to it. Well without further to do here is an excerpt of my story:

 Meetings at Midnight

ChapterOne

☼Pen☼

A cool, crisp evening settled about the town as the sun fell and the moon brought on the night. The streets were emptying and the houses were slowly beginning to glow from the inside. Dinner had just been served in the Warren household and nineteen year old Penelope Warren was itching to find an excuse to not be at the table this evening. Her mother had been badgering her for weeks on the topics of the upcoming social season and ‘all the prospective husbands to meet’. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to get married, she just felt that her patriarchal legacy to exorcise evil from the world was more important.

She was the first female in her family to become a hunter and ever since she had begun her training at the age of fourteen she had vowed that she would make her family proud and show the London Counsel of Hunters she could be not only just as good as a male hunter, but better. When she had turned sixteen and graduated from apprentice to hunter, she had already proven to her father that she was capable of carrying on the family legacy. The Counsel still had their doubts.

“Penelope dear we’ve been invited to Marjorie Devereaux’s debutant ball, you remember her from your tutoring. Shall I send word of our attendance?” Her mother placed the cloth napkin in her nap daintily and sipped her wine before turning to speak to the house keeper, Gertrude or as Pen liked to call her, Gertie.

“Marion let the girl decide to attend before you go off and sending correspondences about. I’m sure Pen is much too busy with her studies to attend a ball.” Pen gave her father a small smile, knowing exactly what he meant; another mission.

She cleared her throat, “He’s right mother, and I’ve so much reading to catch up before my session with Professor Varn. I need to memorize a full conversation and be able to speak it before the weeks end!” It was her father’s idea to mask her hunter work with French lessons. Her mother had been wanting to visit since her sister had moved there and spoke of nothing else but the fashion, and the sights.

It had been Edgar’s choice to keep his family’s business hidden from his wife. He hadn’t even wanted to return to it until the Counsel offered him a chair in the conclave. The Warren family was already revered for their work and with Pen’s involvement it had only increased her family’s reputation. Though she thought some seemed to think she was out of place among the ranks.

 After dinner Pen retired to her room to begin ‘studying’. An envelope placed on her desk, it held a portrait of her target and any information the council had been able to gather on them. She shed the gown she had worn to dinner and began dressing in her huntress uniform. It consisted of a white tunic that was semi loose fitting, a corset she could lace herself, leather shorts that had garters to which her thigh high stockings attached to, brown leather boots, and a skirt that was open in the front for easier mobility. She tucked the envelope into her stocking before slinging her sheathed sword over her back. The sword had been a gift from her father once she had been promoted from her apprenticeship. It was light as a feather in her hand and the steel was always sharp. The hilt was a beautiful sapphire blue and held a yellow gemstone in the middle. She polished it after every mission before collapsing into bed.

With preparations complete, she opened her bedroom window and skillfully climbed down the trellis before running off into the night.

It had been quite easy for Pen to make her way to the outskirts of the city. She had paid a farmer whom was on his way out to another town for a ride, though her destination had been a mile or two off. It had saved a good hour and half walk to the enormous manor she was perched outside of. The moon was still low in the sky, she still had time before making her next move. She took out the envelope and reviewed her target. The portrait was of a man seemingly in his young adult years, however his real age was documented at 150 years. A chill ran up Pen’s spine, she quickly pocketed the envelope so she could observe the crowd that had begun exiting the castle-like manor.

As they passed below the oak tree she had been hiding in, she picked up bits of conversation. There was mention of a fight and that there would be more. ‘Wonder what that’s all about’ she thought as she continued to eavesdrop.

“Henry Bellmort was quite something wasn’t he?” someone said.

Pen’s steadied herself on the branch, Henry Bellmort was the son of a member of the conclave and had been missing for weeks. It had been assumed he either ran off with a woman or had been taken by the enemy, however either case had proved any leads. This must have been why she was here! To take out the kidnapper and free Bellmort. She wondered if the counsel would recognize her bravery with a medal or a title. Before she could lose herself in her thoughts, she regained her focus and plotted a track from her tree into the manor.

Once the area was clear, she dropped down from the tree and quickly moved towards the building while keeping in the shadows. While in training, she had learned that you only went through the front door if you wanted to get killed instantly. Same with the back door or any other exterior door for that matter. This was why she was scaling the side of the manor to the open window on the second floor. She lifted herself through the window and rolled into the dark room. She placed a hand on the hilt of her sword as her eyes adjusted to the dark and took in her surroundings.

She exhaled a sigh of relief and stepped lightly towards the door. Just before her fingertips made contact with the metal knob, loud footsteps thumped towards the room. With the short amount of time she had, Pen found a hiding spot between the wall on the furthest side of the room and a large wardrobe.

The door flung open and two sets of footsteps could be heard. One ceased while the other continued moving about the room, which seemed to glow brighter. “Will that be all Master Lucien?” a woman’s voice asked timidly. The man must have nodded or waved her off as the next sound was the door closing. Pen peeked out from her hiding spot and saw a dark haired man sitting at a writing table with his back to her, thankfully. His hair was medium length and was held back with a tie at the nape of his neck. He reached back and released his dark locks from its bind. Pen was worried that this being was perhaps under her level with how relaxed he seemed to be.

This changed instantly when he jumped from his chair, sending it across the room towards the window and exclaiming, “Like hell he will!” He turned on his heel and retrieved the chair. Pen kept herself hidden, wondering how she’d come upon the likes of this vampire and why his name sounded so familiar to her.

“Alastair will rue the day he decided to challenge the Prince of Vampires.” He mumbled.

Pen’s blood ran cold and her heart suddenly felt like it would beat right out of her chest. ‘Prince of Vampires? What was father thinking!’ She fought to keep her breathing even and steady as her father taught her. Keeping a level head would increase survival chances at least ten-fold. She felt the adrenaline in her veins but it no longer made her feel jumpy or nervous. She was ready for whatever happened next. Or at least she thought she was, she hadn’t heard Lucien’s grunts of anger nor his footsteps as he approached the wardrobe.

In his rage he had knocked over the cabinet and sent it flying into the adjacent wall where it exploded into splintered wood and a heap of clothing. She let out a small squeak as her hiding place was cast away. It didn’t take long after that for her to be noticed.

His face twisted into a snarl, “A hunter?”

She withdrew her sword and held it at the ready, “Technically it’s huntress but I suppose I’ll forgive you seeing as you’ll be purged from the world this evening.” A smirk played on her lips as she waited for him to grow even more enraged and try to attack her out of impulse. It was always when she pushed them to their limit when they slipped up. It was then she could easily make her kill and gather the vial of blood she needed to prove her target had been taken down.

He growled, “I don’t need a lesson in proper English. Just like I don’t need yet another hunter attempting to end my life. Do you know how many of your kind has been sent to the death matches? How many have lost and become my meals?” He paused mid-step, all trace of rage gone from his face. Instead he wore a dark expression, “I’ve never seen a female hunter. I think you’d be something the crowd’s will pay double for. A treat.”

The coldness of his voice didn’t sit right with her, she forced her emotions to stay in check while she debated which would embarrass her father more: her capture or her failure. She kept her hands as steady as she could to keep a grip on her sword. This was the first time she’d let one get this close to her. Her father's voice rung in her head, 'The moment you're in arms reach, the very second, you'll have failed the mission.' She'd been dancing with death for so long, using her female advantages to distract her targets and get the jump on them before they could touch her. She lunged at him in attempt to keep him sword length away. However, he easily disarmed her with one hand while the other caught her neck in an iron grip. Her sword clattered to the floor and had slid out of sight. She squirmed for a moment before realizing it was useless.

She coughed and tried to gain air in her lungs, “When my father hears about what you’ve done he’ll stop at nothing to see your head on a spike. He’ll have the entire counsel-“

The man laughed, “The counsel? You don’t know anything do you girl? The counsel can’t touch me. They’d like to but I have diplomatic immunity. Or at least I did until they decided to send you after me. They must really hate you if they assigned you here. I must remember to send them a thank you note. You’ll be the talk of the country here. Perhaps a taste…to entice everyone what they’ll be sampling.” He leaned toward her neck, fangs extracted. Just as they brushed her skin a servant knocked at the door.

Lucien growled, causing Pen to tremble, “What is it?”

A timid voice spoke, “M-master, a l-letter has just ar-rrived. It’s marked urgent!”

He released her and let her drop to the floor, “It better be.”

He opened the door and ripped the small envelope from the boy’s hands. He almost slammed the door before opening it again, “Take her to the dungeon to await my orders. I must ensure that she truly is a hunter before sending her into the pit but I want her ready for a match by tomorrow.” The boy nodded and helped her up before leading her away from the room.

  Pen had never felt more terrified in her life, she could still feel the ghost of his fangs on her neck and it caused her to shiver as she was escorted beneath the castle. ‘I want her ready for a battle tomorrow’ His words continued to echo in her thoughts, haunting her. She shivered once more. She felt her hold on her emotions grow weak, tears began forming in her eyes but she blinked them back. She wouldn't let anyone see her weak, if she had to fight then she had to stay strong. ‘There’ll be time to cry when I’m alone and out of sight.’ She told herself, wondering if this would be her last night before the rest became haunting nightmares.

They entered the dimly light block of cells, it was colder than upstairs and it felt as if there was a draft from every corner. When a voice called out her name she stopped, wondering who would recognize her in this place. Then she remembered, “Henry? You’re alive!” She rushed to the cell where he was leaning against the cell bars. His torn tunic revealed scars, bruises and fresh cuts. “I can’t believe they got you too.” He reached out a hand and cupped her cheek, “I wonder if they’ll let me have you if I spare you? I bet the crowd would love that. There’s a saying about virgin blood being richer and giving a euphoric high, they’ll have to keep you alive for that purpose alone.”

He moved his hand to reach down her neck, he didn’t get far before she slapped his arm away. “How dare you speak to me this way? If this is my fate then I’ll ensure your end before you get near enough to touch me.” The vampire boy gestured her forward to keep moving. The exchange having woken the other men, caused them to call out to her and make catcalls or whistles as she passed their cells. Pen kept her head held high and ignored their taunts. She’d take out all her anger on them when she faced them.

The boy had other plans, he led her down a series of halls and staircases until he opened a door that led to the storming night outside. “Go! There is no place for you here. You may be a hunter but you’re still a woman. They’d gang up on you and do worse than just fight you. That’s not right in any race.”

She looked outside where freedom was waiting, and then back to the boy who was risking his life for hers. “What’s your name?”

“My name isn’t important. If you leave now you’ll be out of sight from my master. You must go. Run!”