Author: wrhinehardt

Here’s a short little something for my friend @mind-full-of-fog-and-flowers, who’s not been having such a great day today. It’s a continuation of her contribution to @bookwormmedz‘s Hellsing thread! Hope this helps make things better!

        Jayce had sat down, against the tree, praying for the safety of herself and others. There was Medz, herself… Who else ended up here? Medz and the vampire Alucard, having seen her and heard her prayers, had moved towards her. But they stopped. There was a ruffling sound, Alucard’s arm moved to block the shorter woman. Footsteps in the graveyard, behind the tree Jayce sat against.

        “Kiss the son lest he be angry, an’ ye perish from the way, when his wrath is kindled but ae little…”

        “We have to go, human.” Not humans. Human. Of course she’d be left alone. But she never looked up, never stopped praying as events unfolded around her. The heavy footfalls walked beside her, and the sound of a familiar Scottish accent filled the air.

        “Shame ye hae ta run, Vampire! Perhaps another time, then!”

        Jayce stopped, turning to look at the source of the voice. It couldn’t be.

        It was.

        The heavy grey coat. Catholic clerical shirt. Giant rosary necklace and rounded glasses, mounted on a head topped by short-cut blonde hair. Alexander Anderson.

        Her favorite.

        She had to suppress her surprise as the priest bent forward, offering his hand in front of her. It took a moment or two of processing before she realized he wanted to help her to her feet. Jayce grasped the far-too-big hand and the Father helped her to her feet with ease.

        “Ye’ve been prayin’, hae ye not?” He smiled widely, the same smile she felt he gave anyone who prayed in front of him.

        “Umm… Yes, I was.”

        “Fer yersel’?”

        “No, Father. For my friend…s, my friends. We’re kind of stuck… Here, stuck here. It’s a long story.”

        “… Ae exhort therefore, tha’, first o’ all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and givin’ o’ thanks, be made fer all men; Fer kings, and fer ae tha’ are in authority; that we may lead ae quiet an’ peaceable life, in all godliness and honesty… Amen.”

        “P-pardon, Father Anderson?”

        “Why that’s First Tim…” His eyes narrowed. At least, she assumed they narrowed. It was REALLY hard to tell behind those glasses. His voice darkened, quieting down just the slightest bit. “It’s First Timothy, Chapter Two, verses One through Two. Mind tellin’ me, how d’yae know my name?”

        “I told you, Father Anderson, it’s a very long story.”

        “Assume ae’ve got time, then.”

        So she began. How she read that post on Tumblr. How she’d fallen asleep, woken up in a graveyard to the sight of her friend Medz conversing with the No-Life King himself. How she worried about any of her other friends who might have ended up in this hellscape of a world, sat against the tree, and began to pray when he arrived. She told him just enough for him to grasp the concept of how she understood his name.

        The Father didn’t seem to buy much of it.

        “Well, yer’ certainly nae from around here, an’ it seems yer’ tellin’ the truth about yer friends, but I dinnae buy any ae that nonsense about an… A-ni-me.” The word was foreign on his tongue. In any other context it would’ve been comical to see the six-foot-ten priest struggle with the concept.

        “Ne’er the less, ye should nae be out here this late. Nae with… Things like tha’ vampire runnin’ around. Ye’d be safest with me, an’ the Vatican. Under tha protection o’ the Holy Catholic Church.”

        Jayce couldn’t deny that. The offer of guaranteed safety, in the unforgiving world of Hellsing. That was an offer no smart mortal could pass up. She nodded, agreeing with Father Anderson, and followed him as he walked. She still wasn’t quite sure where they were. Somewhere in an old, old part of England, from the looks of the graves in the cemetery.

        She asked why the Father was here, of all places. He mumbled quietly as they walked, something about being sent to investigate the threat of a vampire in the area, something that seemed to be confirmed by the sight of Alucard. He brought her along, meeting up with a trio of Iscariot operatives who were very confused to see him bringing an entirely new individual in tow. He explained the situation, how she was to be put under their protection until such time as she and her friends could be safely reunited and sent back wherever they came from.

        He’d personally watch over her if he had to, to make sure she was safe. It was the least he could do, given her confused and uncertain circumstances.

        It was a long car ride to the airport, during which Jayce and Anderson talked. A lot. About himself, herself, religion, who he was, who she was, their favorite foods. Anything to pass the time and learn more about her favorite character.

        They boarded a Vatican-owned Gulfstream jet, an astoundingly luxurious (and highly ostentatious) mode of travel. It was at this point Jayce realized how sleepy she actually was. She hadn’t technically had any sleep, since she went from eyes-closed to fully-awake in the span of about a second, when she was dropped into this world.

        And she slept like a baby.

        When she awoke several hours later, she sat up with a powerful yawn. Her eyes still closed, Jayce expected to see the familiar sight of her bedroom. When she opened them…

        “It wasn’t a dream.”

        “Pardon?” Anderson sat up in his chair, evidently on the verge of dozing off himself.

        “I thought I was dreaming. I’m… Still here.”

        “Well ae course ye are!”

        It took another several hours to land outside of Vatican City, then to ride in. There it was. St. Ferdinand’s Orphanage, the stomping grounds of Alexander Anderson and the home to a significant portion of Iscariot forces.

        She stepped out of the car, marveling at the size of the building. It was so much bigger than it looked in the manga.

        “This is where ye’ll be stayin’ for tha ferseeable future.” Anderson spoke as he walked. “Dinnae worry, ae’m sure ye’ll fi’ right in. Tha children’ll love ye!” He grinned, gesturing as they walked. He gave her a brief tour, cleared things up with those in charge.

        Anderson was talking to Maxwell at the moment.

        Jayce was sitting outside the room, looking around her. Big, brick walls. Lots of protection. Knowing that Anderson himself was scarcely a shout away.

        She supposed there were worse places to be right now.

gizzwhizz:

millennial-ring:

words-on-pages:

I’m telling you right now if you think authors only read your comment on their fic once you are dead wrong

#haha yeah#and sometimes if we’re having a bad day or feel like our writing is crap we’ll re-read and entire story’s worth of comments#to try to get back into writing mode (tags @sitabethel)

okay but i literally did exactly that today. i reread every single comment ever posted to haunted (both ff and ao3) before i sat down to write. 

Okay but like legit I have a folder of screenshots on my phone of comments for bad days.

@fatheralexanderfanderson Here’s a short little bit of writing from the perspective of Iscariot, finding out Father Anderson’s become a vampire. I certainly hope it’s to your liking!

“St. Ferdinand’s Orphanage is under attack!” ranked pretty much near the bottom on the list of things the Iscariot Operative expected to hear when he woke up this morning. Straight out of bed to hear the alert that one of the most secure locations in the Vatican had taken a hit. Nobody quite knew just what was going on.

        Communications were jammed quite badly, with a thousand different calls going in and out from a thousand different operatives in a hundred different locations.

        “Somebody get Maxwell on the horn!”

        “Are the children safe?”

        “Where’s Anderson?”

        Anderson and two squads of Iscariot agents were all that had been stationed in the orphanage. Usually, that was all that would ever be needed to hold off any threats to the childrens’ safety.

        Maxwell was off conversing with Section III: Matthew agents, somewhere deep in the Vatican.

        Yumiko and Heinkel had been elsewhere, performing their holy duties somewhere not privy to the Iscariot rank-and-file.

        The Operative and roughly a platoon of others had been sent to the Orphanage as part of a second wave of reinforcements. The first wave had assisted in evacuating the children and the Matron, as well as any surviving non-combatant personnel. All survivors from the first wave rendezvoused with his platoon, and they established a perimeter around the Orphanage.

        All of the children were shuttled into vans, taken as far from St. Ferdinand’s Orphanage as they could go. The Matron had told them something about a rat infestation, the Operative couldn’t hear over the commotion inside.

        God Almighty and Lord Jesus, whatever was going on inside can’t have been pretty. All security systems were down, and nobody could reach Father Anderson or any of the members of the two squads that went in with him. The Matron and a technical specialist were working to reestablish communications with inside, though she was having much more luck in this endeavor.

        He didn’t like not knowing what was going on. Nobody did. Especially not the Matron. The stream of expletives coming from the smaller woman’s mouth as she worked were… Let’s just say the Operative was glad the children weren’t there to hear it.

        It had taken several hours, but they were able to get some of the security cameras back up and networked again. They had been severely damaged in the attack, only four or five cameras of the original several dozen were still working. What these cameras were showing was… Not good.

        The interior of the orphanage was a mess. There was blood everywhere. And… The bodies. Not a single one of the rank-and-file troops sent in with Anderson was still breathing. And as for Anderson…

        Oh, Heavens above.

        The red eyes. The fangs.

        “Someone… Someone tell Bishop Maxwell right NOW!” It had been the Matron who spoke. She singled out someone to tell the Bishop the bad news and jumped into action, barking orders left and right. Mostly to get hammers, nails, and Bibles. The platoon-and-a-half of Iscariot agents began nailing pages above windows, doors, anywhere Anderson could conceivably exit the building.

        The way the Matron talked about it, this wasn’t the first time he’s lost control and become vampirized. Something to do with his nanomachines. But this was the first time this had happened in the confines of the Orphanage.

        It had taken less than half an hour to cover the windows and doors of the building. Now they just had to sit and wait. For two days.

        An hour after the call had been made to Maxwell, they were informed that the Swiss Guard had been fully mobilized to secure the Pope and the College of Cardinals. The second one, which sent a chill down the spines of all present, was that the Papal Knights of the Military Order of Santo Stefano di Toscana were on standby if the situation got bad enough.

        They all hoped against hope that the situation wouldn’t escalate that far. The Papal Knights were, next to Father Anderson himself, the premier vampire hunting force of the Vatican. These guys didn’t get called in unless the situation was bad enough to demand a full-fledged crusade.

        But the thought of what Father Anderson could do, were he to escape the building… It would certainly call for that kind of force to put him down.

        A shout came from inside. It was his voice, Anderson’s voice. Loud enough to be heard clearly even through the walls of the Orphanage.

        “Children! Nothin’ tae fear from me! Come le’ me out an’ we’ll all have ae good laugh about it!” A collective shudder went through the bodies of all of the Iscariot agents present to hear that.

        As the evening turned to night, they could still hear him shouting. Shouting to be let out, shouting for others to come in. And the blaspheming. They decided as a whole that Father Anderson, when he came back to his senses, could NEVER be allowed to find out the kind of things he’d been saying as a vampire. The sheer shock of it, they were sure the man’s soul couldn’t take it.

        A vampire Anderson. And they had to wait and stand guard for two days.

        Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, this was going to be a long two days.

fatheralexanderfanderson:

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Heh, Wednesdays, am I right? *Nervous chuckle*

💘💌 (I hope these come out alright from my phone)

hellsings-vampires:

💘: how does my muse act/react when they first realize that they had a crush on somebody? 

A: Surprise, mostly. It’s an unexpected feeling, but not an unfamiliar one. He wouldn’t be the type to ignore or repress it; he’s been around long enough to know that’s an exercise in futility. 

S: She would be a little nervous initially, wondering whether or not the feeling is mutual. After a couple of days, though, she would become happier and more excited about it. 

💌: how would my muse go about confessing to someone they liked? would they do it indirectly or directly, or maybe not at all? 

A: He would come right out and tell them. Alucard is not the type for subtlety. 

S: She would try dropping hints, waiting for them to pick up on it and say something. If that doesn’t work, she’ll probably [wo]man up and tell them how she feels. 

–L.H.