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Of Monsters and Men

So one of my friends just discovered the morbid, juicy, horrifying joy of Hellsing Ultimate. I had been watching the OVAs on and off for the past few years, but I finally finished all ten of them sometime last year. Due to our recent conversations regarding the infamous Alucard, I felt the urge to pop by for a quick chat about our beloved vampire and what his archetype means to me as a writer.

Now, I’m sure you might be confused as to why I didn’t title this blog post “What Hellsing Ultimate Taught Me About Writing.” That’s mainly because this is less focused on the subject of writing and a little more focused on the general concept of villain protagonists, and bad boys in general. Hellsing Ultimate has certainly done a lot of things for me (scared me shitless, made me laugh my ass off, and prove that there is no going back once you find a vampire who has killed 3.4 million people attractive), but it’s not so much lessons as it is just eye opening introspection.

However, I’m getting ahead of myself. For those who aren’t in the know, Hellsing Ultimate is a set of Original Video Animations that are based on the manga entitled Hellsing by Kouta Hirano. It deals with Integra Fairbrook Wingates Hellsing, the head of an organization in charge of stopping supernatural threats under orders from the queen in the 1800’s. Integra is the master of Alucard, the No Life King, aka the most powerful vampire who has ever existed and will ever exist. There’s a reason his name is Dracula backwards, people, and you will find out why within the first five minutes of meeting him. I can only recommend the series to those with a strong stomach. The manga was first adapted as a short series with the same title in 2001, but it did deviate from the canon so it was remade with a bigger budget and better visuals in 2006. It is without a doubt the most violent and disturbed anime I’ve watched from start to finish. Granted, there are worse out there (oh God bless you if you’ve watched Berserk or Gantz, ugh), but Hellsing Ultimate is special because it’s so dark and twisted yet compelling and beautiful.

The reason why I’ve chosen Hellsing Ultimate as a subject for a blog post is because I’m beginning to realize why we have so many bad boys in modern day fiction of any media. Now, I use this term incredibly loosely with regards to Alucard. Alucard is a straight up villain, no bones about it. He murders other vampires and supernatural beings not because they hurt the innocent, but because it’s bloody fun to him. He’s a blood knight. He enjoys slaughtering his opponents and drinking their blood and generally being the strongest being in the known universe. By all accounts, we should be rightfully repulsed and terrified by him…and yet, we aren’t (or at least I’m not). Why? Because Alucard has layers. Tons and tons of layers.

For example, Alucard’s relationship to his master, Integra, is by far his biggest saving grace. If this were any other stereotypical mature shonen manga series, Alucard would’ve turned Integra into his slave and had his way with her, but this series was written by someone who has a taste for excellent writing. Alucard is without a doubt attracted to Integra because of her strength and unflinching sense of duty. It’s relatively clear that if she allowed it, he would be her lover, but she doesn’t for several different reasons. Throughout the series, we come to find out that he not only respects Integra, but he has genuine affection for her as a character. The proof comes in the very last scene of the OVA (BIG HONKIN’ SPOILER ALERT) where after a thirty year absence, Alucard returns to his beloved master. The normally stoic Integra tells him that she’s become nothing more than a grandma (slang term, she didn’t have kids, the translation is “obaa-chan”, in case you’re wondering), and how does Alucard respond? “That’s fine.” And then you see the tenderness in his eyes as they exchange the final lines:

Integra: Welcome home, Count.

Alucard: I am home, Countess.

Holy. Crap. I’ve watched Alucard tear hundreds of people apart with his bare hands (and teeth) like they were dinner rolls, and yet this guard dog of infinite wickedness becomes gentle in the presence of his master. Hell, one of the most telling things about Alucard  is that he loves the fact that he’s her servant. He only threatens her once when she was a teenager and they met for the first time. He doesn’t attack her or sexually assault her or anything. That is incredibly interesting to me as both a writer and just a fangirl in general. Mind you, Integra is NOT a vampire. She has no powers. She’s just a tough dame and that was enough to impress the most powerful vampire in the world. You can’t beat that, man. That’s good writing.

Now, let’s swing around to the main course. My attachment to Alucard has crept through in my recent work, as I’ve come to realize while I’m editing the final draft of She Who Fights Monsters. I admit that my main villain, Belial, has more than a little Alucard in him. First of all, Belial’s character model looks like this in my head:

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Second of all, Belial has exactly one redeeming quality and that is his strange connection with Jordan. If you’ve read the first novel, you know that he is not a nice man. He’s a murderer and a liar and he has every intention of ruling the earth someday. However, I could have just made him a one note villain (after all, Mulciber is a static villain), but something told me to go a different way with him. I like the idea that not all villains are 100% pure evil with nothing else to them. I like seeing villains who have layers and depth instead of just twirling their mustaches and plotting the demise of the protagonist. I especially like if they can be civil about it, because there’s nothing as amusing as a villain who is polite and well-spoken, but can also tear your head off without blinking. It’s fun to explore the concept of restraint, because if we’re being honest, both Alucard and Belial could have taken what they wanted at a moment’s notice, but that would defeat the purpose of their characters.

Bad boys tend to stick with me more than good guys (for the most part, trust me, I like my nice guys like Hercules, Harry Dresden, Kenshin Himura, Phoebus, and Suou Tamaki) because there’s the constant struggle between being evil and having a less-than-monstrous side to them. It’s exactly why I’ve become a total sucker (haha, I made a PUN) for Integra/Alucard fanart now. I love seeing this gigantic, long-limbed, maniacal bad ass so tenderly wrapped around his master like a big evil puppy. It’s so incredibly ridiculous and yet it works. Alucard, and subsequently Belial, are not Jerks with Hearts of Gold, but they do have a soft spot for exactly one person in their lives, and that’s why I enjoy them. I think that’s why our monster men are the ones we remember more readily than our valiant knights in shining armor.

…*cough* And it doesn’t hurt that Alucard looks like this on a semi-regular basis:

I REGRET NOTHING.

And I hope you were able to get something out of this post other than “OMFG BAD BOYS R SO CUTE.” I swear, I had a point I was making. I just got distracted by the pretty. No, seriously, though, don’t fall in love with Alucard. He’d eat you for breakfast and keep your blood in a wine glass by his coffin at night. That’s not a euphemism either.

I bid thee good day, my darlings. Thanks for reading.

-Kyoko

The Black Parade Six Month Anniversary

They grow up so fast. *sobs*

They grow up so fast. *sobs*

Can you believe it? My little novel turned six months old two days ago. I just…my FEELS…

Weepy puffy author-face aside, this merits celebration. Here’s a short story I wrote from a collection called “Seven.” It’s part of The Black Parade canon that takes place in the two month period between Book Two and Book Three, where Michael and Jordan are learning to coexist. It’s from Michael’s POV and each story deals with a different one of the Seven Deadly Sins. Michael is adjusting to human life, and to having  a platonic relationship with Jordan. Or it’s supposed to be platonic but he’s not so sure about that. I do hope you enjoy it.

LUST

One of the cushions on Jordan’s couch had a spring loose that kept jabbing me in the ass. The entire two hours I’d been here had been uncomfortable as a result. I really needed to convince her to get it fixed or replaced.

Heels clicked across the kitchen floor. I spotted Jordan out of the corner of my eye, one hand on her hip, the other buried in her dark shoulder-length hair.

“Hey, sorry, but can I bother you for a second?”

I glanced at her. She turned around. “I can’t get this stupid zipper up all the way. You mind?”

“No, it’s fine.” I stood and walked over to her. She held her hair out of the way and I started carefully maneuvering the zipper back down towards her waist. The dress was black, short, and form fitting. Tell tale signs that someone else had bought it for her, either Lauren or an old boyfriend. Jordan liked her dresses tight in the chest but loose around her legs. She had strange insecurities about her thighs.

“I can’t believe Lauren’s making me go on a blind date,” Jordan grumbled for what had to be the thousandth time.

I shook my head. “Then don’t go.”

“I have to,” she whined. “I have this…pathological need to please everyone.”

I snorted. “You don’t have that with me.”

“That’s because you’re not a person. Ow!”

I pinched her side and felt an immense sense of satisfaction when she squirmed. “Could you be more ungrateful?”

“Fine, fine, I’m sorry. But it’s different with you. You don’t expect me to live up to your standards. Mostly because you don’t have any for me.”

She paused. “Actually, I kind of like that. Makes things less uncomfortable.”

“Mm-hm,” I said under my breath, trying to keep my eyes from sliding down her shoulders to the gap the back of the dress provided. The straps were thin and crisscrossed over her chest, but she was a classy girl and almost always wore a bra. This one appeared to be strapless. Not that it was important.

“Well, you never know. Maybe you’ll like the guy.”

“Oh, won’t that be great? Then I can lie to him too.”

I hesitated, sensing a deeper problem. “Is that what’s got you so stressed?”

“Sort of. It’s easier if I keep my friend circle small. I feel less like a jerk that way,” she admitted in a softer voice. I finally untangled the zipper and slid it all the way up, hiding her smooth skin once more. She let her hair fall around her shoulders and ran her hands down her hips, turning to face me.

“Thanks. Here’s hoping I don’t disappoint.”

I smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “You won’t. He’d have to be an idiot not to like you. Especially in this dress.”

She sighed, pressing her forehead against my sternum, a habit of hers because of our height difference. I leaned against the counter behind me, making it a little easier on her.

“Are you sure I can’t stay home?”

“You’ll be fine. Plus, it’s a free meal and if he’s a jerk, we can eat ice cream and call him names when you get home tonight.”

Jordan chuckled. “You’re so mature.”

She laid her hands on my waist, which seemed to be her version of a hug when she didn’t feel like giving me a real one, and I wrapped my arms around her, resting my chin on the crown of her head. We stood there for a long moment, saying nothing. The longer we stayed there, the more things I started to notice; like the faint scent of shampoo and conditioner in her hair, and the satiny texture of the dress, and the way her body folded into mine like a missing puzzle piece, except not hard cardboard but rather soft curves instead. My mind began to wander into less angelic places before I could stop it. My arms held her a bit tighter and my knee involuntarily shifted to between her legs. I had trouble focusing on something other than the heat of her. Before I knew it, my lips touched her forehead and she shifted in my arms, meeting my eyes. Was I leaning down towards her face or was that just my imagination?

“I’d better get going,” she said, snapping me out of my thoughts. Immediately, I let go and slid my leg back, hoping she wouldn’t notice what had just transpired.

“Yeah, have fun.”

She disappeared into the bedroom to grab her purse and jacket before leaving the apartment. I rubbed my face with both hands and then ran my fingers through my hair. No big deal. Gabriel had told me there would be tests.

I definitely needed to start studying.

While I’ve got you here, don’t forget that the Black Parade giveaway is still going on from now until January 31st. Pop by and enter for your own signed copy. Thanks for all your support! See you on the pages, my dears!

Kyoko

An Excerpt from She Who Fights Monsters

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You wonderful folks got this post to 10 likes, so here’s your reward! An excerpt from Chapter 1 of the sequel to The Black Parade, She Who Fights Monsters.

CHAPTER ONE

JORDAN

“I have to go to work.”

“Mm-hm.”

“The bus leaves in fifteen minutes.”

“Mm-hm.”

“…I can’t leave if you don’t stop kissing me,” I said in a mildly amused voice from around the lips of my husband who had managed to trap me against the kitchen counter. He towered over my humble 5’6’’ with his 6’1’’ frame, his long sinewy arms content to rest on either side of the counter by my waist so that I couldn’t wriggle away. It was both a nuisance and yet somehow pleasant. A conundrum, if you will.

I thought my words finally got through to him when he pulled away for a moment, but his head dipped down and his lips found the edge of my jaw, my neck, making my poor knees wobble. I could feel the roughness of the stubble that had grown on his chin since he hadn’t shaved yet and the soft tickle of his dark brown hair against my collarbone, sending involuntary shudders down my spine. Normally, when he cooked breakfast he pulled his hair back into a ponytail but I suspected he’d taken it down with the intent of seducing me. Crafty bastard.

“I’m not stopping you,” Michael drawled against my throat. His baritone voice made the hairs on my arms stand up with attention. There was maybe a centimeter of space between our upper bodies. He’d done it on purpose to tease me. He bit down softly at the point between my neck and shoulder and I jumped, my fingers gripping the counter for strength.

“You’re blocking my exit,” I said.

He finally rose to full height, smirking at me with those full lips, arrogance beaming down from his sea green eyes.

“And you’re stalling.”

He stared at me. I stared at him. I sighed and grabbed two handfuls of his shirt, jerking him down to my mouth.

“I’m gonna get fired.”

Half an hour later, my best friend Lauren Yi was shaking her head when I scampered into the restaurant and clocked in as quickly as possible. Mercifully, Colton was nowhere to be found, but he’d still know I was forty minutes late anyhow since he was the owner. I’d be in for it later and I knew it. The restaurant had been hit with the usual lunch rush so I had to get ready as soon as humanly possible.

“This is the third time in a week you’ve been late,” she reminded me as I walked towards the lockers in the break room to put my apron on. I popped mine open and checked my reflection in the mirror, piling my mussed black hair into a loose bun.

“I know, sorry. The bus was late.”

Lauren rolled her eyes. “Are you really pulling that one on me?”

I glanced at her, keeping my face blank and innocent. “What?”

“Your skirt’s on backwards and you’ve got pancake mix on your sleeve.” She arched an eyebrow and then crossed her arms.

“He caught you in the kitchen again, didn’t he?”

A flush of heat rushed up my neck and over my cheeks, thankfully hidden by my brown skin. I tied my apron on and cleared my throat, keeping my voice level and guilt-free. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The Korean girl lifted the apron and turned my skirt the right way, brushing off the remainder of said pancake mix. “It’s a sad day when Jordan Amador has more of a life than I do.”

“Should I be flattered or insulted by that?”

“Both. Now get out there and wait tables, you shameless harlot.”

I batted my eyelashes at her. “Love you too.”

She stuck her tongue out at me as we walked back onto the floor and started greeting customers and taking orders. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly I could switch into Waitress Mode. Without thinking, I became amiable, even a little charming on my better days—a direct contrast to my actual personality. Lauren had once dubbed me as a “cranky, antisocial hermit crab” and it disturbed me how accurate that description had been at the time. Michael had done a remarkable job of reversing the worst parts of my behavior over the past year.

After I took care of a couple of teenagers and a large group of people who had just gotten out of church, I greeted a redhead in a forest green suit and black tie sitting by himself at a window booth.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

His brown eyes scanned the menu, his voice a little shy. “What would you suggest?”

I lowered my pen and pad. “Well, what kind of things do you like?”

He shrugged. “No preference, really.”

“I recommend the fish and grits. The fish is fried whiting and the grits are cheesy and thick, just like down South.”

“South?”

“Alabama, Mississippi, Georgia, etc. I’ve never been that far down, but my boss insists it’s much better than up here,” I continued with a playful roll of my eyes.

The redhead folded up his menu and handed it to me, smiling. “That sounds good. Thank you, Jordan.”

I scribbled down his order and smiled back. “No problem.”

I gave the slip to the kitchen and grabbed some cleaning supplies to clear off a table in my section. Lauren came to help, taking the salt, pepper, Tabasco sauce, and napkins off of the table before I wiped it down.

“Who’s the redhead?” she asked.

“No idea. Never seen him before.”

“He’s not part of the usual Sunday crowd. He seems…very out-of-town-ish, especially with that suit. By the looks of things, it costs more than half of my closet.”

I flashed her a grin. “Well, you do have a bad habit of buying knock off Gucci.”

She scowled. “Those who shop at thrift shops shall not throw stones.”

“It’s economical, dammit!”

She rolled her eyes at me, handing me the spray bottle of Clorox.

“You’re married to the lead singer of a rock band. You should be able to afford decent clothing by now.”

I pursed my lips, squirting the liquid on the table. “We have better uses for the money than clothing, thank you very much.”

“Condoms?”

I whirled, aiming the spray bottle at her face. “I’ll do it and say it was an accident.”

She giggled, pushing my arm down. “Relax, Dirty Harry. Or would that be Clean Harry since you’ve got Clorox?”

“Ha-ha. A comedic genius you are not.” I finished cleaning off the table and replaced the condiments and napkin container. One of our chefs called me since an order was ready and I brought them to the customers. I took the fish and grits to the redheaded gentleman, who was staring out the window as if distracted.

“Here you go. Enjoy!”

“Thank you.”

The lunch rush came and went like the tide—seeming overwhelming at first, but manageable to the trained eye. I didn’t notice anything out of order until midway through my shift when I returned to the seat that the redhead had been in to find I had a rather substantial tip waiting for me.

“He left you a hundred dollars?!” Lauren screeched from behind me, grabbing my shoulder to look as I held the bill between my hands with my mouth open and getting dustier by the minute.

“I…he…maybe he didn’t have change?” I sputtered, searching the sidewalk outside the restaurant to see if he was out there but he had disappeared.

My best friend threw up her hands. “I don’t get it. You come in late and yet you’re the one standing there with a fresh hundred bucks. Do you have a leprechaun stuck to the bottom of your shoe or something?”

Sheepishly, I glanced underneath my foot. “…no?”

“Ugh, I’d hate you if I didn’t love you so much,” Lauren sighed, scooping up the empty plate the mysterious redhead left behind. I tucked the tip in the front of my apron, staring blankly out of the window. I started to hand her a glass only to drop it as something caught my eye across the street.

A plump woman in her early forties stared back at me. Her hair was black and curly around her round face, and her brown eyes were full of worry. I knew her—not from Albany, but from the pages of a manila folder I had poured over rigorously for the past month. Erica Davalos.

A murdered Seer.

“Jordan, what’s wrong?” Lauren asked, flustered at the shocked expression on my face.

I hid my distress, stepping over the bits of broken glass. “Nothing, sorry. Just a bit clumsy today. I’ll go get the broom.”

I hurried to the break room and grabbed a broom, but I didn’t head back out there. Instead, I snuck out the rear entrance that led into an alleyway and stuck my head around the corner, signaling for the ghost to come towards me.

“Hi,” the ghost woman said when she was within earshot, her voice light and apprehensive. “My name is Erica.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She frowned, tilting her head. “Excuse me?”

“My name is Jordan Amador. I’m a Seer.”

“A Seer?”

“Yes. It’s someone who can see and hear ghosts, angels, and demons. Long story short, they’re the descendants of the original twelve disciples. I’ve been trying to solve your murder for the past month and a half.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my goodness, I had no idea. I’ve just been wandering around for the longest time looking for someone to help me.”

I offered her a small smile. “Well, you’ve come to the right girl. I get off work in a few hours so I want you to stay in this area and meet me out front at six o’clock, okay? We’ll get everything sorted out, I promise.”

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

Did you enjoy that? Here’s Chapter 2 for your reading pleasure. Keep your eyes glued to the Facebook page for more. She Who Fights Monsters is slated for release summer of this year. I can’t wait for you to read the rest. Stay tuned, darlings!

And don’t forget that you can win a free copy of The Black Parade via Good Reads from now until Jan. 31st. Spread the word!

Kyoko