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Old Hellsing Fanfic Pt. 3"Something's different about him." Seras said to herself as her former servant left. "He seems so distant now. So, lifeless just like my master usually is." She bit her lip, worrying that he'd stay that way and that she would end up the same way once she became a full vampire.
A few minutes later, she heard Necro's door open again and slow, almost inaudibly soft footsteps moving in the direction of the stairs. She decided to go after him and make sure he's alright, but when she stepped out of her room he wasn't there. He had disappeared completely.
Seras went off in search of him, but ultimately didn't find him. She couldn't find hi
Old Hellsing Fanfic Pt. 2Necro dosed off without realizing it. He was sitting at his desk with his chin resting on a platform created by his hands. The muscular tension in his arms lessened, and his elbows slowly slide away from each other.
When his arms inevitably slipped off the desk, his face fell and smashed into the polished wood. He cursed to himself and trudged over to his bed. A groan escaped him as he plopped down on the soft, yet firm mattress.
As soon as he closed his eyes, someone knocked on his door. "Pardon me Necro, but I have a message to deliver. Are you awake yet?"
No I'm in a deep sleep. Who are you?"
"Walter. Sir Integra requests your presenc
Old Hellsing Fanfic Pt. 1Note: This contains crude humor and improper formatting. There's probably some OOC and my OC is probably a bit of a "Sue"...but it's meant to be kinda entertaining.
The dark night sky was littered with countless stars, but they all seemed dim. The sliver of the moon stood in their midst, hung in the sky like a sadistic grin. The air was stagnant and quiet. In all directions there was solitude matched only to that of a padded room in an insane asylum.
Seras took a deep breath. The once serene park was now filled with a litany of low moans and the almost inaudible sound of human flesh being devoured. Her safety net, Alucard, was not
I wonder if you're enjoying
the curvature of her back.
The spine, a row of ossified crowns
crowded and curved around that defining neural superhighway;
that extension cord,
adventurously connecting the visceral
to the peripheral.
The horseshoe crab vertebrae
scuttle to break through skin at your touch;
a defining shiver.
I see your hands
around the rounded hills of her shoulders.
Scapulae jutting out with the extremity of the bend,
like a chicken's wings.
And the bands of these dorsal muscles
stand up like wings,
cast shadows in the dimples of the pelvis that she lifts;
that will fold o
The TypewriterThe Typewriter
It began and ended with a word.
Not a particularly strong or powerful word, but a word that changed everything. It wasn't too long or difficult to spell. It wasn't uncommon either. In fact, it was a perfectly ordinary word, but, I suppose, its commonplace origin is what made it so special.
I loved that word.
But the word doesn't mean much without the story along with it and I was always one for telling good stories.
I ignored the call from the other room and remained seated. That tone wasn't unfamiliar. Taking a bite from my toast, I waited for him to call again. It wouldn't be more than ten—
"Sammy! Come q
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