I wanna change this but idk what to

2. you people can’t do anything

3. name one hobby you have outside of media consumption

"I don't care if you're white, black, green, or purple" -someone who definitely cares that you're black

First art class in history

I remember our kindness that day, when it no longer mattered

UNTIL THE SUN RISES AGAIN | CHAPTER 17

SHIP | Alucard x Olrox

RATING | Explicit

SUMMARY | When Alucard awakens to help Richter Belmont save the world, he doesn't expect to find an ally in another vampire-let alone the very same who once killed Richter's mother. Yet every moment spent in Olrox's company reminds him of what it means to be human.

After Erzsebet Bàthory devours the sun, Olrox has no choice but to put what little faith he has in the family who once killed the only man he ever loved-including a ghostly dhampir who reminds him of all that he lost.

[Read on A03]

Adrian could feel the steady beat of Olrox's pulse beneath his fingertips as he stroked his throat. He'd lost track of how many times he'd pushed past his perfect lips and into the lush wet of his mouth—but how would it feel to press a claw through his skin? Into the flesh? Soft and wet and raw and hot and bloody?

“Go ahead,” Olrox encouraged him, his mouth curved with an amused smile. “Let's see you be this composed once the smell of my blood hits your senses… awakens your long-neglected appetite for something that doesn't have four legs and a reputation for rolling around in its own shit.”

A laugh leapt past Adrian's lips, pulling him out of his thoughts. He'd grown much too fond of the man pinned beneath him now, much too attached to his wit and his knowing smiles.

Mizrak had pushed Olrox away, and that was such a terribly predictable folly for a mortal man to make, wasn't it? To not be able recognize or adequately appreciate something or someone so beautiful and wonderfully alive.

Because the thought of marking Olrox, of claiming him for himself, made Adrian's heart wrench with want.

“You'd let me mark you?” he asked, growing increasingly enamored with the idea as he traced his clawed finger along Olrox's throat. “Make you mine? Knowing it might last for days? Weeks? Possibly years? Possibly centuries?”

The narrow slits of Olrox's pupils widened, and Adrian watched as they swept down to his chest, narrowing to slits again as they focused on the scar there.

“…I would,” Olrox said at last, and looked back up to his face. “But not on the throat.”