The following story has been neither written nor
edited for content by the webmaster of this site,
and may contain written material that is not
suitable for viewing by younger children. All names
and characters are copyright their respective
owners. "Project AFTER" and all commentary and
specified writings within the following text are the
property of Alex Barry (firstname.lastname@example.org).
The following story has been used without the
permission of its original author, and no profit has
been made from its redistribution.
Episode 17: "I Would Never Hurt You, Master"
(A 'Hellsing' fanfiction by
Buckle up, folks. We're in for a bumpy ride. The
fanfiction I've selected for this review features a number
of problems, the least significant of which is not that it
involves a subject which many people find rather
uncomfortable to think about. Here, I'll let the story's own
synopsis speak for itself:
It is that time of the month for a
16 yearold Integra and she has a small problem. Alucard
loses control briefly and is overcome by shame. Integra is
scared. How will they work through this? AxI R&R pleez!
Yes, the above paragraph is referring to THAT "that
time of the month". As if challenged to think of the most
nonsensical premise imaginable for a story based in the
Hellsing universe, the author of this assassination attempt
on logic decided that the outline of the plot should read as
follows: "Integra is on her period, wacky antics ensue."
Thankfully, the real meat of the story is even more idiotic
than that! It involves Alucard going apeshit crazy when he
smells her blood (and honestly, who wouldn't) then turning
severely emo as he becomes ridden with guilt for losing
control of his vampiric instincts. I won't spoil what
happens next, but only because I got too drunk to remember
anything I read after that point.
Our tour guide for this magical journey through every
straight man's least-favorite subject goes by the name
ParttimeDumbblonde—a somewhat odd alias, and not nearly as
fitting as the one I gave her in my mind: FulltimeBadwriter.
Since both of those names are awkward to type, I've decided
to refer to this author as simply "PTDB" for the remainder
of this review. It may seem lazy, but it's actually a
courageous act of defiance against fanfiction authors who
refuse to put creative energy into anything except choosing
usernames that will cause any word processing software with
a spell check feature to self-destruct.
Because every sentence I write in this introduction ensures
that more people are going to jump ship before I get to the
fanfic itself, let's go ahead and dive right on into this
one. If you think you can take the pain, then sit back,
relax, pop a couple of Midol, and prepare to regret clicking
on the link to this episode even more than you already do.
"Integra, is this long distance?"
Walter's voice asked from the receiver.
"Yeah...but it's an emergency!" a 16 year-old Integra
Integra: I just thought of a super funny name for a
Lady Gaga song parody, but Twitter is over capacity! Help!
"Well, just be quick. What is the
problem?" Walter was speaking from a hotel room phone.
Walter does not appreciate being disturbed during his
weekend away at the singles convention.
Integra took a second to cover the
receiver, pull the phone down just a bit and listened. She
was inside a cupboard in the kitchen, way deep inside. When
she couldn't hear anything, she put the phone back to her
hear. "I...jeez this is so embarassing."
Hunting for your parents' liquor stash and accidentally
locking yourself inside a cupboard is just another one of
those zany incidents that makes growing up such an
"It's okay, you can tell me
"Yeah, okay." Deep breath. "I'm out of tampons." She
squeezed her eyes shut. There was a pause on the other end
of the line.
Walter: Wait a minute... Is this Marty D. and the Jerkhole
again? Alright, fine, here's your fucking sound bite: "WKNR
91.7 plays the WORST contemporary rock hits!" Stop calling
me, goddamn it!
She decided to just keep talking.
"I'm down to pads. That's all I have left. I have enough of
those and, well, it's not even very heavy, but-"
"Yeah. He's totally creeping me out, Walter."
Oh what, did he not act "sensitive" enough during your last
unprovoked crying jag? You know what, maybe your need for
constant reassurance that the bloating doesn't make you look
ugly is creeping him out.
"Just keep your gun handy, I
guess," he replied.
Walter is so hilariously disinterested in her safety that
I'm half expecting a subplot where Integra finds out he took
out a huge life insurance policy on her right before he
"oh wow...thanks. If he couldn't
regenerate like that, he'd be swiss cheese right now."
"That bad, huh?"
"Yup. I've got two bullets left...wait...no nevermind. I
used those coming down the stairs."
Integra: Asshole stairs was all gettin' up in my grill, so I
had to ice those punk-ass bitches. Steps bettah recognize!
"Just be confidant. In his face.
Your the master; he can't hurt you and he won't. He can
control himself," Walter reassured her.
"Yeah, you're right. It's just annoying is all, but you're
Having an unkillable, homicidal vampire drunk on the scent
of your blood somehow seems like it would go beyond
"annoying" by a ways, but I guess Integra is just cranky.
"I'll be back at the end of the
week, I swear it."
"K. I'll see you then. Bye." After he said good-bye, Integra
pressed the off button and sat there in silence, listening
for any signs of him.
The sound of someone whistling the opening theme to Bonanza
told her that he was close.
When she couldn't hear anything,
she slowly began to make her way out of the cupboard. She
crawled out and stood up, brushing off her school uniform.
She wished all day that she could just spend the night there
at school, but Alucard would probably come and find her
anyway. It was still raining cats and dogs outside, so
basking in the sun was out of the question; besides, it's
not like the sun hurt him anyway.
Also, her green sweater was at the cleaners that day. Not
that it mattered, since wearing a green sweater wouldn't
have done shit. Still, mentioning it is an economic way of
She thought about going outside;
maybe he would rather sulk inside, watching her from behind
a window, than get wet chasing her.
Alucard can take 9mm rounds to the chest like they're
nothing, but ask him to run through a sprinkler and he's all
"Fuck that noise!"
The thought was very appealing. She
walked to the back door and grabbed the door knob, twisting
it, pulling the door open, letting the sound of the rain and
thunder roll into the kitchen. Just then, an arm shot out
from behind her and a gloved hand with a red sigil on the
back pressed the door closed again, quickly. She spun
around, glaring defiantly up at the smirking vampire looming
Alucard: Hey Integra, I noticed some of the cans in the
pantry had been put back with the labels not facing
outwards. Am I gonna have to smack a bitch? You gonna force
me to do that, Integra? Hm? Make me smack a bitch?
"I'm afraid I can't let you go
outside now, Master. You might catch a cold." He bent down
to be level with her face, an arm on either side of her head
now. Man, this monster really likes to back me into
walls, doesn't he? She mused.
It's funny because, a couple days ago, Alucard flew into a
rage after a grapefruit squirted him in the eye and kicked
Integra into a wall that had the theatrical poster for Pink
Floyd The Wall on it.
"Where were you thinking of going,
"It's none of your business, Vampire!" she spat.
"Oh but, my dear," he leered at her, grinning and revealing
two gleaming fangs, "You are my business."
Alucard has finally embraced the fact that his outfit is
basically a goth pimp suit.
"Step back, Alucard." He did as he
was told, begrudgingly. "Now, I want you to stay away from
Integra: Also, did you pick up a pack of Mike's Hard
Lemonade like I asked? Well DID YOU!?
"Oh, Master, you've already tried
that one. Think of another."
"Leave me alone!"
"Synonymous with the first command. Care to try again?"
"Alucard! You're never going to get my blood! Just get over
This seemed to shut him up. He just glared down at his
little master, trying to think of something to say.
Come on man, you've got like a hundred different blood puns
at your disposal. "Sorry Master, hope there won't be any bad
blood between us!" "Looks like your blood has suddenly run
cold!" "Someone's in a bloody foul mood this evening!" Just
Before he could respond however,
she pushed past him and stalked away. His red eyes darted
after her, the smell of virgin blood wafting right under his
nose. He couldn't stop himself from turning and reaching
Oh please no, please God, don't let this turn into a Hilary
In a split second, he had grabbed
Integra's upper arm and forcibly yanked her back to him. She
yelped and crashed into him. That sweet, intoxicating scent
overpowered him and he pushed Integra down to the tile, not
even hearing her yelling at him, the sharp cries of pain as
she fell to the floor. He was over her, gripping her uniform
top with one hand, the other hand on her thigh.
It's like Integra's sophomore prom all over again, except
Alucard isn't her lesbian gym teacher and a bunch of stoned
seniors aren't murdering a cover of a Smashing Pumpkins song
in the background.
"Alucard! Alucard, stop! STOP!" she
shrieked his name, squeezed her eyes shut, sceamed at
herself in her mind not to struggle; he was lusting; it was
predatory; try to bring him back; just don't struggle!
This entire scene has the characters acting out how PTDB
wishes her blind dates would end.
Alucard stopped suddenly, hearing
the torrents of commands being shouted in his master's mind,
the shrieks and demands to "stop!". He was suddenly back in
the kitchen again, a thunder storm rolling on outside, the
kitchen's cool tiles beneath his knees as he kneeled on the
floor over...over his Master...over Integra...a very scared
Alucard: Hold on, you're not a pile of snakes... Jesus, what
was IN that PCP I took? Oh, right. PCP.
She was staring wide-eyed up at
him. He had ripped a couple shirt buttons off of her top.
His hand was under her skirt, resting on her inner thigh. He
looked at her for a long time, slowly beginning to
comprehend what had happened.
For as many times as I've seen it now, it never gets any
easier to watch when the characters come to the horrible
realization that they're trapped in a fanfic that makes no
damn sense whatsoever.
He released her shirt and let her
down gently, standing up and, at the same time, backing away
a few steps from her, giving her room. She stood up quickly,
covering herself, pulling her skirt down, and staring at
him. The look of shock she had had dissipated and turned
into something else.
Most people would scramble to get the hell away after almost
being killed by an immortal predator not completely in
control of his actions, but not Integra. She responds by
making herself the punch line to a Tim Allen standup routine
and firing back The Look.
Not anger, though. It was sort of
like realization. He just stood there, disbelieving what he
had almost done to her. He was ashamed, he was angry, he was
The mixture of shame and anger was somewhere in the 60-40
range. Maybe not quite that much shame... For the
sake of argument, let's just put it at a 3.5/2.2 ratio.
Integra didn't know what to say.
She didn't say anything in the end, just walked out of the
kitchen quickly. What a mess this had turned into.
Integra: Ugh, this is even worse than the time that mummy
kept trying to kill me because I had a yeast infection.
She knew she had to do something.
It was only the second day of her period, for crying out
loud! She walked quickly, almost jogged to her father's
(her) office. She closed the door and sat herself down in
the chair before the computer, clicking on the icon to
access the internet; she remembered Walter doing this; it
couldn't be that hard.
Yeah, I don't know if Yahoo! Answers is the best source to
consult regarding this kind of matter...
Back down in the kitchen, Alucard
was holding his head in his hands.
Alucard: Up yours, Patrick Stewart!
He couldn't believe he had almost
lost control. He almost hurt her. Wait. He opened his eyes
wide. Did I hurt her, he wondered. He'd never be able
to forgive himself if he had.
My hat goes off to PTDB for singling out one of the most
badass, vicious protagonists known to the anime fandom and
rewriting him as an enormous pussy. That really takes a lot
of anger at yourself and the people who support your work.
He wasn't himself; he could
remember her crying out when she hit the floor. Did she
hit her head? Did I throw her down? He knew how strong
he was; it wasn't at all a matter of not knowing his own
strength. He was strong. He was a deadly force.
That'll make a sweet tagline for the poster promoting
Alucard's upcoming action flick where he plays a renegade
cop who doesn't play by the rules. But I feel like we're
kind of getting sidetracked from the point of this story,
which is apparently Alucard wallowing in self-pity forever.
What if she's hurt? He
wanted to check on her, but he knew that if she was alright,
he was the last person she wanted to see. He could only
imagine how the events would play out if he were to force
his way into her quarters.
Alucard: It's Goofy Time!
Integra: No, Alucard! No!
He thought about the way she looked
at him and then...she ran out of the kitchen. She looked
alright, he thought. She didn't act dizzy or confused. The
only blood he smelled was that other kind of blood.
Way to rule out the possibility of a bone fracture or
internal hemorrhaging, Professor.
His hands flew to his head again.
No! Don't think about it! He was furious with
himself; how did he let a little thing like menstrual blood
take over him like that?
Oh, you'd be surprised just how many men's lives have been
utterly destroyed thanks to a little menstrual blood...
Growling in shame, Alucard sank
through the floor and into his room below where he sat down
in his high-backed chair and cradled his head in his hands.
Alucard: Damn! Crashing through the floor gave me SUCH a
Up stairs, in her office, Integra
completed the order and sat back, relieved. In just a couple
of hours, she won't have to worry about accidentally
Once the used fursuit arrives, he won't touch her for a year
of free blood sandwiches and blood milkshakes.
Thinking about him, about his
expression in the kitchen after it happened, she wondered if
he wa alright. She understood that it wasn't his fault. Not
Looking back on her decisions, using the blood as war paint
for her Princess Mononoke cosplay probably wasn't the best
idea under the circumstances.
She wanted to talk to him, but,
then again, she was scared. Not scared of Alucard.
Scared of circus music played slower than normal.
He wasn't Alucard now; he wasn't
himself at all. She nodded; yeah, that was a good way to
look at it. If she told herself that it wasn't the Alucard
she knew, then leaving him alone was easy. She just hoped he
wasn't beating himself up about it.
But what if...what if he hadn't snapped back to reality
like that? What if he completely lost it?
Come on now, fic, you had your chance to be even angstier
and you passed it by. No fair going back and retroactively
upping the drama with what-if scenarios.
She knew the answers, of course.
She'd be dead. Period. That's that. She leaned back in her
chair and closed her eyes. Jeez, I only have to deal with
this...ugh...like for a whole week every month.
I swear the author wrote that in there just to fuck with me.
I didn't want to look like a noob by calling bullshit on
that without all the facts, so I did some research to see if
periods lasting up to a full week were normal (turns out
they are, although they're rare). The Wikipedia pages I read
will haunt my nightmares forever.
She rocked forwards and laid her
head on her arms. As her eyelids half closed, her mind
wandered back into the past. She recalled memories of
herself and Alucard; memories of experiences they'd shared
Like that one time they got totally baked and met Neil
Patrick Harris on their way to a White Castle.
Her mind wandered further back to a
much stranger time, shortly after she had first met the
So, what, all this was just a really weird frame story for a
fanfiction clip show?
What on earth had she done to
deserve such a fate? Her father died, her own uncle tried to
kill her and she was forced into hiding, then she found the
ultimate undead monster in the dungeons, had to shoot her
uncle, lead that undead filth back up into her house,
forever guaranteeing that her life will never be normal
I stand corrected. Looks like PTDB did, in fact, read a
summary of the first couple chapters of the Hellsing manga,
therefore doing at least 600% more research for this story
than I originally estimated.
She was only twelve years old;
stuff like this is not supposed to happen.
She hasn't even hit her teens and already she's going
through packs of tampons like Don Draper goes through packs
of Lucky Strikes.
Now, to top it all off, she
couldn't sleep. There was a lightning show going on right
outside her window, accompanied by an earsplitting orchestra
of booming thunder and howling wind. She groaned.
It seems Integra is just as frustrated by all these
hackneyed similes as I am. PTDB couldn't write a damn
grocery list unless she saw someone else do it first.
Usually she would go down to the
library and read a book on sleepless nights like this. Now
that he (Alucard was it?) was awake and walking
around, she didn't feel comfortable leaving her room.
Alucard had immediately started leaving dirty socks and
empty bags of Fritos in practically every room of the house.
It took a direct order to actually
get him from spying on her while she was in it. She sighed
and pulled back the covers. It is my house,
she thought. Besides, it's not like he's going to move
out anytime soon...or ever.
Integra: "I'm just gonna crash here while I finish up the
semester, then get a job!" Pssh, what a load of shit.
She padded out of her room in her
white pajama pants and matching, quarter sleeve top. Once in
the hallway outside, she looked both ways, crossing her arms
across her abdomen tightly, getting goosebumps from the
chilly air. She thought about crawling back in bed under the
warm covers, but decided against it; she was already up and
wide awake. Why go back to bed when you're awake?
I'm always awake when I get into bed. Otherwise I'd collapse
on the floor somewhere and sleep there.
She continued to the stairs and
descended down to the first floor with out ever noticing the
tall figure leaning against the balcony railing in the
shadows. She looked around her as she stepped down,
replaying-in her mind-childish nightmares about these stairs
in the dark.
Seeing four maids, two butlers, a plumber, and her younger
sister all fall and break their necks on these very stairs
due to inadequate lighting had given her an irrational fear
of walking down them at night.
Her feet touched the cool tile
briefly as she quickly walked towards the library. The house
was extremely dark. Walter wasn't at home; he was on a trip,
Damn, Walter leaves home more often than the boring
workaholic husband character in a porno flick. If Integra
suddenly notices the well-endowed pool boy is working late,
I might have to bail...
so without him here to be up until
various hours of the night, all of the house's lights were
off by the time Integra went to bed. The lack of
illumination did not spook the head strong 14 year old, of
Wait, Integra was twelve years old a few paragraphs
ago. How long did it take her to walk down that staircase!?
She knew the mansion like the back
of her hand. She lithely dodged tables and lamps,
grandfather clocks and statues.
Walter's taste in interior decorating essentially boils down
to "KEEP BUYING SHIT UNTIL WE CAN'T SEE THE FLOOR."
She entered the library and
expertly slid her hand along the same seam of wallpaper as
always, until her fingers found the plastic light switch.
Nothing. No lights, not even a flicker. Integra groaned and
unnecessarily flipped the switch several more times.
Integra operates light switches the same way old people
operate CD players. That's right Grandpa, if pressing one
button doesn't work, then press it seventy more times just
Still nothing. She groaned and
cursed the weather. There was no telling how long the power
would be out for. Searching the dark room, absently, she
concluded that there wasn't much else to do except to go
back to bed.
PTDB forgot to mention this story takes place in an
alternate universe where candles were never invented. It's
like steampunk, but in reverse.
She pivoted on her heel and was
about to walk back towards the stairs when, all of a sudden,
a gust of noise erupted behind her in the library.
"Sorry about that. That broccoli casserole and the spicy
pork sausage aren't gettin' along too well..."
She stopped and listened. It wasn't
her imagination; there was definately something there now in
the library that wasn't there before. She listened to it
closely before turning around. She recognized the tiny
popping sounds, and the crackling and whispering of burning
wood and floating gases.
It takes a special kind of anti-talent to describe something
as familiar as a fire and make it sound so utterly alien.
Next, maybe Integra can go into the kitchen and pour herself
a glass of "a heated, faintly opaque mixture of fluid
molecules extracted from the mammary glands of the species
Turning fully around, she saw-over
the tables and chairs that occupied the vast room- on the
far wall, between two facing, high-backed chairs, a fire
burned and glowed within the large hearth. She stared at the
phenomenon for several moments before slowly stepping into
Upon seeing the flames, something awoke deep within Integra.
Her gaping mouth slowly turned upwards into a crazed,
twisted smile as she envisioned the beautiful destruction...
"Is this better, Master?" The voice
came from one of the chairs before the fire. She could see
him now. His hair was still white, but he was wearing
something different; it was difficult to see what exactly
from where she stood.
Alucard: Oh, by the way, hope it's okay I borrowed your
bathrobe. It's a little drafty, but hey. We're all family
"It is still a little dim to read,
but perhaps a quiet chat would be fine?"
She was nearer to him now, staring at him and the fire
alternately from behind a long table littered with papers
Integra rolled her eyes as she listened to Alucard's story
about warming up. Little did he know this wasn't the first
time she'd walked in on someone burning incriminating
"Alucard." It was just a statement;
she was surprised that it came out of her mouth as quietly
as it did.
The figure sitting in the chair
just feet away was far different from the one she had met
just a couple of nights ago. He had fed well, was calmer,
and he kept a more dignified posture. He looked almost
noble. But...he was a monster.
Now Alec Baldwin comes into the fic out of nowhere. Man,
this story is getting hard to follow.
She heard him chuckle and was
shaken from her thoughts. "What? What's so funny?"
"You." He said.
"The way you are warring with
yourself." She tilted her head. She usually would have been
a little miffed by that comment, but now she was just too
She's wondering how Alucard knew about her uncertainty
whether or not she should sever the Hellsing Organization's
ties with Al-Qaeda.
He sensed as much and gestured to
the chair across from him, on the other side of the
fireplace. She looked and made her way over to it. She tried
to appear as confident as she could as she bent and sat in
the much larger chair, just feet away from a monster she was
taught to believe was her very worst enemy.
When was it established that Integra loathed vampires at
that age? She didn't even know what Alucard was when he
first— Oh, right. This creates more drama. Carry on, then.
She did want to know one thing,
though, before she thought about anything else."How did
you-" she paused, trying to find her words. "...Can you read
He nodded. "When I want to."
Alucard: Speaking of which, I notice you've memorized a
suspiciously large number of passages from the Book of
Mormon. Anything you want to tell me?
"Well, it bothers me. Could you
please not read mine?"
"Of course," he smiled. "My apologies. It's just
that...you're so intriguing."
Her head is full of way, way too many cocktail recipes for a
She was silent for a moment, taking
in what he said. "Were you listening to my thoughts when I
was coming down the stairs?"
He grinned wider, amused. He chuckled and nodded.
Integra was thinking about a Funky Winkerbean strip she'd
read earlier that evening.
In the present, Integra caught
herself smiling as she remembered that grin.
3 Hours later
Integra met the delivery man at the door before he could
ring the bell so as not to alert Alucard that someone was
Alucard: *jumps in* Do I smell Papa John's?
Integra: Oh my god, FUCK this night!
She handed the man the money and
took the bag he gave her. She said thank you and shut the
door as the man jogged back to his van. She peeked inside
the plastic grocery bag and smiled in sweet relief. She ran
all the way to her room, shut the door, and ran again into
"At least these 'Mega Mover' laxatives will solve one
of my problems..." mumbled Integra as she rolled up a towel
to scream into.
Down in the basement, Alucard was
still punishing himself mentally, throwing up explitives to
his mind, pulling at his hair and beating at his legs
whenever he became angry.
PTDB's characterization of Alucard was heavily influenced by
that time she saw her six-year-old brother throwing a
tantrum after he got put in time-out for saying "damn" in
front of their mom.
Still, most of what he felt was
shame. The Great No Life King succumbing to low-life vampire
He was no better than that sparkly son of a bitch on the
posters plastered all over every wall in Integra's room. How
he reviled that little sellout whore...
He couldn't have that. He was
better than- suddenly, there was a knock on his door. He was
shocked to say the least. He sat up straight and fixed his
disheveled appearance. "Come in." He called. As soon as he
did, the handle turned and the door swung open, revealing
his little master, moonbeam hair and enchanting, icy eyes.
Ah, so that's what she looks like. Well thanks a lot for
waiting until now to tell us that, PTDB! Up to this point,
I've been imagining her with red hair. And Chinese.
Her expression was a calm one. She
wasn't angry. She wasn't scared either. Timid a little.
Perhaps even pants-soakingly terrified. Not so much
straightforwardly "scared" though.
Still, she was nothing he expected.
She stepped into the dim room, letting the heavy door close
all the way behind her.
Alucard's room also doubles as the Hellsing Mansion's S&M
dungeon. Its other S&M dungeon, I mean.
Alucard stood up for her and
motioned to a chair near him. She walked up to him and then
took the seat he offered. As she sat down, so did Alucard.
He stared at her, impressed. But she didn't look up at him.
She was thinking of what to say; she hadn't come the least
bit prepared...well, okay she was a little more prepared
than before. She wondered if he would notice.
"Well." Alucard intently studied his young master.
"Well." Her eyes remained fixed on the floor in front of
All we need is for Alucard to take a sip of a mojito and
make a remark about how inexpensive Integra's shoes look and
this will be exactly like two gay men having an argument in
Alucard sat back and pondered over
why she would come down here to his room after the way he
acted toward her earlier. That was when he noticed it.
Integra was so doped up she could barely sit up straight in
The lack of urges, the sated
feeling. He couldn't smell blood anymore. Well, a trace
maybe, but it wasn't enough to make him crave it.
There were now other smells coming from the girl that
violently killed his appetite.
"Master? Is...is something
She looked at him, questioningly. "You...do you smell it? My
blood, I mean."
"Nothing like before. Why?"
Alucard: Wait a second... Did you replace your blood with
She smiled. Alucard was shocked. "I
ordered some...things I needed from an online grocery store.
They delivered them here just a little while ago."
Alucard nodded. She could tell he didn't understand.
Alucard has apparently never heard of jar corks.
"Just be glad. They are the reasons
you aren't lusting anymore."
"Yes...I wanted to talk to you about that. Did I hurt you?"
She shook her head. "Good. I know that from this day
forward, you won't ever be able to really trust me. I'm a
If this fic had been penned by a more competent writer, I'd
swear this apology was meant to be sarcastic. Holy shit, how
overboard can you go. This is like accidentally spilling a
drink on somebody's carpet and attempting to make up for it
by carving "MISERABLE FAILURE" into your chest with a jagged
shard of glass.
That much is clear now, I'm sure.
But, my Master, my Integra, I would never hurt you.
I wouldn't even dream of it."
Integra smiled slowly as he lowered his head and slumped in
his chair. Integra was touched by his words; they weren't
Not unlike this mile-long parade of semicolons.
she knew he hadn't meant to act
that way; still, they affected her none the less.
Integra suddenly realized that she wasn't the only one in
the room with a leaking vagina.
She stood up soundlessly and
approached his chair, standing at his side. She brought a
hand up and rested it on his perfect, soft, black hair. He
raised his head slightly, she cupped his chin and stared
down into eyes.
Lips quivering, Alucard began, "Awacard sowwy, Mas... Mas—"
before breaking down into uncontrollable sobbing like the
good bishy-ified bastardization he was.
She traced the side of his face
softly as she said, "Alucard, I know you wouldn't hurt me.
And I do very much trust you. I trust that you understand
that even you are not perfect." She smirked. "Not far from
it, though. You mean a lot to this organization. You are its
He's like the proverbial iron cannon that, uh, falls into a
deep, guilt-ridden depression whenever it almost shoots
You mean a lot to me, also. You're
the only one I have around here to talk to most of the time.
You've made me stronger, and more intelligent, you've helped
me adjust to this new life I lead now.
If she breaks into song while a bunch of rabbits and deer
prance into the room, I'm just going to start randomly
smashing things in my house until I pass out from
Again, I know you would never hurt
me; how could you? We're practically joined at the hip,
aren't we?" She giggled, bent down, and gently kissed his
D'awwww...! That's so sweet, it's like someone coated a
baseball bat in powdered sugar and then used it to bash my
goddamn face in.
"Besides, I doubt something like
this will ever happen again."
He looked up at her. "How do you know?"
Integra used a portion of her time online to sign up for a
She smirked and started for the
door, turning and walking backwards, saying, "Because you
have a month to figure out how to prevent this from ever
happening again." With that, she turned on her heel, opened
the door, and left Alucard sitting in his chair, that famous
grin of his cracking across his face.
If she thought Alucard was going to be seen buying tampons,
she had another thing coming. Another thing involving the
back of his hand striking her face.
"Master," he said to the empty
room. "You are so damn cute." He shook his head. "And so
...Oh, okay. You sure you want to end that way, fanfic?
Because I don't really feel like we actually resolved
anything here... No, you know what, that's fine. This is not
my story. I just need to walk away. Just put this behind me
and walk away...
I'm glad that's over. Despite lacking any content capable of
matching the sheer offensiveness present in some of the fics
I've previously put on this site, that story made me feel more
than a little uneasy, and not just because the characters were
more irritating than mustard gas. I hate to indulge in
stereotypes (much less act the part of one), but as a guy, a
woman's "time of the month" is not a topic I enjoy reading about
in any context, be it in pamphlets for young girls about their
changing bodies or fanfiction based on an ultraviolent
Before you judge me as being inconsiderate, though, be aware
that I have a better excuse for my menstruation melancholy than
some fellahs. Periods aren't simply icky to me or anything like
that. No sir, I have a tragic personal experience to back up my
Back in high school, I was friends with a girl who I would now
swear suffered from at least twenty-seven different forms of
bipolar disorder. She was generally nice and upbeat, but
occasional bouts of severe depression and frightening anger made
her a very unpredictable person to be around. It kept things
interesting, if nothing else.
One day, when the two of us were spending the afternoon at a
mall, I noticed she was going through one of her "insane rage"
phases. It was especially bad on this particular day, with her
complaining about literally everything to have ever existed in
the known universe and nearly murdering some poor son of a bitch
who accidentally bumped into her when she charged into a group
of people walking the opposite direction, presumably under the
assumption that they would see her and swiftly disperse like
when a shark swims into a school of fish. In a foolhardy attempt
to lighten the mood, I jokingly asked her if she was on her
period. I thought I was joking, at least; her screams
claimed I was being a typical chauvinistic Neanderthal of a
male, blaming feminine emotions I didn't understand on PMS as if
I secretly thought she had conjured up a menstrual bleed on
Now feeling rather insulted myself, I responded with a biting
counter: "You're right, I was being insensitive thinking you
might be suffering from symptoms of a biological function you
have no control over. Clearly, you're just acting like a crazy
bitch for no good reason."
One of the reasons I would never hit a woman is because I harbor
a passionate hatred for any act of violence against the opposite
sex. The other reason I would never hit a woman is because there
exists the possibility she might hit me back, and after having a
120-pound teenage girl sock me in the stomach hard enough to
bring me to my knees, I fully believe that a grown woman could
easily uppercut me into the next level of a parking garage if
she was pissed off enough. As I held my sides and struggled to
breath, my seething companion stood over me and angrily accused
me of faking being in pain. I couldn't argue with her; all I
could do was grimace as the taste of blood and stomach acid
flooded into my mouth, and silently pray that someone carrying a
hunting rifle loaded with tranquilizer darts had witnessed my
assault and was feeling heroic.
The shocking twist ending to this harrowing tale came two days
later, when my friend called me up to apologize. She admitted
that she was, in fact, smack-dab in the middle of her period at
the time, and that she regretted hitting me (though it was
largely her uterus' fault). I said it was no big deal, we both
laughed about it, then I hung up the phone and cried into my
hands for an hour.
What's the moral of this story? God is truly a cruel genius for
inflicting women with a physical ailment that would make both
them and the men around them miserable for several days every
four weeks. Way to take out two birds with one stone there,
Lord. I can't blame women for getting a bit moody when that time
of the month rolls around, though. You gals really do have a
good excuse for being a little irritable on "those days" or
whatever we should call them, and I'm well aware that most men
would act far crazier than the average women if we had to
deal with the same crap every single month. All joking aside,
the majority of you girls handle it pretty damn well.
Back to hating on things, I sure do dislike people who vomit up
mangled stories involving plot devices that are so
preposterously out of place in such works that it feels like an
unfunny practical joke. Not to mention making the characters
within said stories so obscenely unfaithful to the original
source material that the whole thing reads like a personal "fuck
you" to their creator. I mean, can you really even call
something fanfiction when the author displays no apparent
signs of being a fan of the original work? Looking back at
IWNHYM (even this fic's acronym looks ridiculous), it's obvious
that this wasn't an homage or a loving tribute to Hellsing so
much as it was an nine-page-long brain fart that hijacked the
names of series' main characters to save the author the effort
of having to establish an original setting.
For shame, ParttimeDumbblonde. There's no justification for
writing something that shoddy, much less publishing it on the
internet. And don't even try to pass it off as a temporary lapse
in judgment resulting from some weird emotional crap from being
on the rag, because I've suffered too much pain to buy that
bullshit excuse again.