* I WILL COME BACK

there isn't any god and when you die, you're just dead and heaven's just a fairytale to put you to the bed there ain't nobody watching us, 'cause nobody cares and in the end we're living all alone.   ind. alucard of hellsing / written by mochi ( credit. )

Her breath is heavy, chest tight, air caught in her throat. The chase was good but hard-and Yumie is only human, and keeping up with vampiric strength and speed takes recovery. Maybe that’s why he takes her by surprise, maybe that’s why her grip doesn’t instantly tighten on the hilt of her sword. She’s tired. Inky tendrils of hair cover eyes that’ve lost their eerie glow, following the vampire’s steps–it’d be a delight to bring home a trophy of ashes for Father Anderson, but she knows she couldn’t. Even shuffling her steps to make headway on a defense when he moves are slurred, even her startled cry is muffled by a hoarse throat, even— …wait. What is that? Her red vision is fading, but fixates on the shiny foil in front of her, and her steps cross over one another, nose sniffing at the air as if it would help ascertain what the hell this damned creature is trying to trap her with. Candy. It’s candy. She feels the saliva building in the back of her throat-Yumie needs to recharge after all, but…candy? From a vampire? “…What are you getting at? Poisoning me? Iscariot won’t go down like that.” Big words for a weary woman. She’s eyeing those sweets like her next target.

its arm — its very long arm — extends ever an inch more forward.  It offers the candy with all the care and caution one might extend an animal.  It can’t remember, is it considered rude to kneel down?  

“Please, little judas, what would be the point of poisoning you?    — you’re swaying so much I fear you may fall over any moment.”  It shakes its head, and its arm looks truly unnatural now as far as he stretches it to her.  “You must push your body to such extremes...I understand why.  But you are only human.”   ( The most powerful think to be, he does not say ) 

@hellthirst​

Integra isn’t mad. He can’t even say that he’s disappointed. OR SURPRISED. But a second ace of spades doesn’t simply manifest out of nowhere (or maybe it does), and suddenly, Integra understands why he hasn’t been able to win a single game against Alucard since age 12. Sir Hellsing throws his cards onto the table with a scoff, rattling teacups in their saucers. To think they even moved a proper table down here for this.

RIGGED CARDS IN THE DUNGEON. how quaint.

“— you’re a rotten cheat, Alucard. Don’t you know that defeats the point of even playing?”

The shades are mysteriously absent — like the cards that may or may not be vanishing out of hand, one has to wonder whether they were ever more than a construct of thought and darkness, rather than a tangible piece of clothing.  Lips curl up but it barely even looks up from its hand of cards. "I'm stunned it took you even this long to catch on, Master. When have you ever known me to play fair?" Of course, when you play games with mist and shadows one can hardly expect the rules of the game to go unaltered. 

† ┊ &. HC ⇀ ( he who holds the devil / hold him well ) † ┊ &. DESIRES ⇀ ( you always fall in love / like having your throat cut ) † ┊ &. THOUGHTS ⇀ ( i will tell you the red on my lips is not wine ) † ┊ &. AES ⇀ ( hungry / hollow / all ive ever wanted ) † ┊ &. STUDY ⇀ ( your slaughterhouse / your killing floor ) † ┊ &. TRINKETS ⇀ ( remember tonight for it is the beginning of always ) † ┊ &. SELF ⇀ ( no bargain between lion & men / i will eat you raw )   † ┊ &. MINA ⇀ ( i have been heading for hell / did i drag you down as well? )   † ┊ &. ANDERSON ⇀ ( and if you fall as lucifer fell you fall in flames )  

@hellthirst

“I’m pretty sure being hounded by bunch of blood thirsty demons wasn’t in your job description. But hey! Here we are, being the best of friends! I think its most exciting then looking at dead people.” There’s a big grin added to his features, as if spilling blood all over the floor wasn’t a crisis on his behalf while Dizziness followed him like a sheet of paper.

Alucard thinks it might be fair to quantify this one as ‘a weird person’.  Which sounds remarkably hypocritical coming from a walking cloud of darkness.  The invitation of friendship and a good fight bring uproarious and tickled laughter-- the sound a harsh cackle echoing around.   ----  “It’s a bit more in my job description than you appear to think.”  What sort of person sees him, spectre of shadow and omen of ill and thinks ‘ah yes, surely, a friend and savior’?   The answer is:  A fun one. 

Contrary to popular opinion, it does not enjoy hurting those who never stood a chance at besting him.   She’s no Anderson--  it would be over so quickly.  It would be so pointless.  One more servant of god struck down in a fruitless effort to prove he exists and he cares.  It would be a WASTE.    Here is the scene:  They are alone.  It is night.  Between their feet is the dead target, one more fake husk vampire.  She looks tense, ready to fight and he doesn’t want to.  

“Anderson.”  It purrs, lips split into a smile too wide, a smile of too many teeth ( as if it doesn’t always remember exactly what it’s meant to look like )--  “Always a pleasure.  I hope you brought something new. Your blessed blades didn’t do the trick, before.”