#i went here

[strigimorphaes]

[mcalhenwrites]

Doug, I can’t believe you got a ponytail to honor your boyfriend

[avalice-fallenaa-blog]

⨌

Munday Meme

⨌ - If you ever had the opportunity to clone yourself, would you?

Definitely. I have a variety of reasons for that, but if nothing else, it would be nice to have another me to split half of the shit I get saddled with. And it would be nice to have someone I can actually count on to help me so-

[scent-of-petrichor]

H ECK ME

[regiium-blog]

( @vampiirisms )

      ❝ It’s a couple of robots, man. How hard can it be? Besides, I have the new helmet tech from Ollie and clearing out the robots and trashing these drives to slow her down is more of a one-man job anyways. I’ll be back before you even notice I left in the first place. ❞

[iwritefandomfic]

Vampires and Secret Organizations

A/N: This is...my style. My serious writing style, the kind of actual novels I want to write. I just plugged in my favorite babes and threw in a Youtube ship. There you have it folks. Enjoy. (Third Installment well under way, and Hartbig Christmas Fic coming in the next couple weeks!!!)

When the phone rings in the middle of the night, and the answering machine picks it up, Hannah certainly does not expect the voice that spills into her room.

“There’s a car waiting outside, get in. Say nothing. Bring nothing. Don’t answer the phone.”

Hannah sits straight up in bed, the sheet pooling around her waist, leaving her bare from the waist up. The only light in the room is the blinking red LED of the answering machine, signifying the strange message that was just left. A message she knows had to have been left for her, because Grace has no clue that Mamrie is in her bed tonight. She hasn’t received a phone call from the blonde in months. She looks to the sleeping red head beside her and smiles softly, that bubble of absolute adoration forming in her chest. Mamrie lay on her stomach, fiery locks splayed across creamy shoulders, her lips parted the tiniest bit and emitting soft snores. Hannah moves from the bed, careful not to disturb the older woman, and tiptoes into the closet.

Even though she was told not to bring anything, she obviously doesn’t plan on listening. Shuffling through her closet, she quickly dresses in boxers and a tight sports bra, having no idea what Grace plans on. After a moment, she tosses on a tank and her shoulder holster, sliding a glock into it. Pulling on black skinny jeans and a loose leather jacket, she feels the need to call Grace back. But the message said not to, so she laces up her combat boots and goes back into the bedroom. Smiling down at Mamrie, she places a feather light kiss to her forehead and scribbles a quick note, hoping she’ll be back before the sleeping woman ever gets the chance to read it.

The sleek black sports car is one Hannah hasn’t seen, but matches Grace’s style. She always sends cars that are fast and black, easy to get away in and hard to spot with the headlights off. The last time, the car had been a deep purple, and that was the most adventurous Grace had ever gone. She slides into the passenger side, not bothering to make eye contact with the dark skinned driver. He wears a baseball cap pulled low and an expensive looking jacket, but other than that, no real identifying features. Again, the type Grace always sends. The dash clock reads 2:18am. The radio spills soft piano music. The ride’s relatively short, shorter than most of Hannah’s late night escapades. Something felt off tonight, but Grace has never led Hannah wrong before. It’s just another job.

The building’s dark, not a single window illuminated, and Hannah can’t help but notice the car doesn’t pull away. The car has never lingered on the curb before, and Hannah nudges the gun at her ribs, making sure it’s still there. Her only backup. Slowly climbing the steps, Hannah shifts her senses into full gear, listening for anything out of the ordinary, eyes taking in every little detail. She sees the slight shift of a shadow beyond the glass of the door, expecting the red peacoats of Grace’s goons. But as she swings open the door, she knows she’s in trouble. These guys wear all black with white bandanas tied around their mouths. She should’ve trusted her gut. This isn’t an average job.

“Fuck,” She mutters, sending a high kick to the first douchebags chest, who lunges at her. Two more come at her, each getting an elbow to the jaw. One drops, while the other staggers, but a fourth and fifth emerge from the shadows, and Hannah knows she royally screwed. She gets one in the nads, and he drops to his knees, but the first quickly takes his place. She writhes as they grab her arms, pinning them against her sides. One hand finds its way into her leather, wishing she had reached for the weapon sooner, knowing it’s too late. Its ripped from her hand, and an elbow comes down hard on the top of her head, sending her into darkness.

xXx

The world is spinning when Hannah finally wakes up, an ache pulsing out from the back of head. Her back is slumped against a rough concrete wall and her leather is gone, the floor cold and hard under the legs of her jeans. But her holster is definitely gone, along with her gun, which she expected. Prying her eyes open, her stomach drops as she realizes she in  cell. An actual freaking cell. With metal bars and concrete walls and floors and a nasty ass toilet and everything. Hannah wants to scream, because how could she have been so stupid.

“Well, good morning, sunshine.” Hannah barely holds back a shriek, her head whipping to the left so fast she thinks she's given herself whiplash. But she knows that voice.

“Grace?!”

“Yeah. Hi.” The tall, thin girl is also slumped against the back wall, looking far worse off than Hannah. Her eye is blackened, her nose looks broken, and the sleeve of her shirt is ripped, revealing a nasty cut.

“What happened to you?” Hannah says, assuming the same thing that had happened to her the moment she entertained that god forsaken building.

“I got jumped. You too?” Grace laughs, but it sounds off, and Hannah worries that the slightly older girl has a concussion.

“Yeah. I was responding to your call.” Grace screws up her face, then draws in a sharp gasp as it pulls on the bruised skin of her eye and the cracked bone in her nose.

“I never called you.”

“Well, shit, I guess we’re caught.”

Both girls turn to the voice outside the bars of the cell, wreathed in shadow. The voice sounded identical to Grace, but Grace is pale as a ghost and definitely sitting in the cell next to Hannah. The shorter girl stumbles to her feet, putting herself between Grace and the door of the cell. Grace doesn’t even attempt to stand, letting the stronger girl do the protective thing. There’s a tinkling laugh, one that is not at all Grace’s, outside the cell, and the figure comes into the light. She’s unhealthily skinny, with stark white skin, dark blue hair, and blood red eyes. Eyes the same color as the blood she sucks from the veins of the victims.

“Blood sucker.” Hannah snarls, reaching for a gun that is not at her ribs. “Why the hell do you have me and my lovely boss over there trapped in a cell?”

“Not so lovely right now.” Grace mutters, pulling her knees up to her chest. Hannah swears she’s lost at least fifteen pounds since the last time she saw her. Her heart turns to ice. How long has Grace been jailed? Hannah suddenly feels nauseous.

“Because you became a problem for us. You’ll have another friend soon.” The vampiress smiles, a vicious thing, that makes Hannah’s skin crawl. Hannah doesn’t know who the demon is talking about, but she knows what the demon is talking about. She’s the best Vampire Hunter and Tracker in the state. But she’s been in situations where she’s needed to be saved before. But she’s always had Grace to come to her rescue, or at least Grace’s back-up ninjas. Not this time. They are so royally screwed.

All three woman jump at the sound of a gun, and Hannah presses her body against the bars, gripping them with white knuckles. Vampires don’t carry guns, so who the hell is upstairs? The vampiress looks equally as confused, and then she springs forward, grabbing Hannah’s right arm in an iron grip through the bars. It takes everything in the short girl not to scream as a bone in her forearm snaps, and she draws blood from her lip in an effort not to tear up. She sees the demons eye twitch, so Hannah lets the blood drip off her chin, taunting the demon.

“Who did you tell?” The demon breathes in a strained voice, digging her nails into Hannah’s broken arm. “Who did you tell?!”

“I didn’t…” Hannah whimpers, concentrating on the vampire’s eyes to distract herself from the pain. “I didn’t tell anyone, beast. Let. Me. GO!”

Hannah tries so hard not to scream as the vampire squeezes her arm again, but the pain is too much. She lets out a blood curdling screech, decking the demon right between the eyes with her left hand. She’s surprised at the strength behind the blow, being that she’s right-handed. The vampire falls back on her ass, hissing at Hannah from the floor. During the exchange, several more gunshots could be heard upstairs, and Grace has staggered to her feet. The blonde yanks Hannah away from the opening to the cell, a safe distance away from the angry demon.

“Who’s upstairs, Hannah?” Grace mutters, staring intensely into Hannah’s eyes, as if this is a life or death situation. Which, incidentally, it may very well be.

“I have...no..idea.” Hannah grunts, cradling her injured limb against her chest. Her eyes are swimming with black dots, the pain unbearable. Bumps, bruises, cuts, concussions, she’s dealt with it all in her line of work, but never before a broken bone. Holy hell does it hurt.

“Who were you with when you got the call? They obviously weren’t expecting anyone else to be here, or that gun never would’ve had the chance to fire. Who was at your place tonight?”

“Just..my girlfriend.” Hannah hangs her head in shame, not even having the nerve to look Grace in the eye. You’re not supposed to date as one of Grace’s Hunters, because it’s the best way to get someone innocent killed.

“Yes, but who?” Grace doesn’t sound at all surprised by Hannah’s confession. She must’ve known all along.

“Her name’s Mamrie, but it can’t possibly be her-” Hannah stops short as the door at the top of the stairs is kicked in. There, at the top of the stairs in all black, wielding a sick looking gold 44 Magnum revolver, is Mamrie Hart.

“Mames?” Hannah squeaks in utter astonishment.

“Hey, babe.” Mamrie says with a smirk, turning her revolver on the demon who’s still flat on her ass. The blue-haired vampiress shrieks and lunges at Mamrie, but the gun goes off before she even gets close, her second-time-dead body dropping to the floor with a thud.

“Bullets infused with sunlight. Works everytime.” Mamrie says with a grin, grabbing a key from the pocket of the now dead vampire and releasing the two women from their cell.

“Always, a pleasure, Mamrie.” Grace says with a smile, clapping the redhead on the shoulder.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Hannah says in confusion, still gently holding her broken limb.

“Of course. Mamrie’s a Hunter, just like you. How did you not know that?” Grace says in the most ‘duh’ voice she can manage.

“In her defense, I had no idea she was a Hunter until she got that call tonight.” Mamrie says, slipping her arm around Hannah’s waist.

“This is weird. Even for me. And I hunt vampires for a living.” Hannah says with a sigh.

“Well, I knew this whole time. Maybe I should've said something.” Grace responds with a shrug. “Of course, do to the fact that neither of you are supposed to be dating anyone, as clearly listed in the contract…”

“Grace, don’t be like this. Those rules were instated to protect innocents, and me and Hannah are both Hunters. I think we can handle ourselves. Right, hun?” Mamrie says to Hannah, who manages a weak smile.

“Fine. But we are going to have discussion about this very soon, ladies. For now, let’s get Hannah to a hospital, yes?”

“Yes. Please. Maybe a pit stop for some pain killers.” Hannah groans in approval.

“Alright, Mighty Mouse, let’s go.” With that, Mamrie scoops Hannah up in her arms, to which Hannah can’t even argue through her exhaustion. Hannah plants one on Mamrie before letting her head fall heavily onto her girlfriend's shoulder. Grace sighs at their antics, and Hannah drifts off with a smile, even with a broken arm.

[cosmically-caffeinated-owl]

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