#OstentatiouslyOnigiri

[ostentatiouslyonigiri]

"ONBOARDING"

[A/N: Seriously guys, there is no reason why Alucard should be so hard to write XD. He (in cannon) is such a discordant, confusingly consistent mess, OMG. Though I suppose that’ll happen after centuries of consuming souls…Well, at least he’s found a job that he loves! Also, reader is female and American] [EDIT: Forgot to @thirstyforlulu 😅]

“B-by myself!?”

You were at a loss for words. Asset management, training, recruitment. For the latter, you weren’t even sure of the logistics behind that. How could you run an entire HR department by yourself!? The background of the elegant room, the somber undertones, and the echo of your voice did nothing to salve the already desperate disposition of your nerves. As the smoke from the cigar of the steely eyed woman across from you dissipated into the air, a naughty thought appeared:Maybe the reason she puffs on that foul-smelling bundle of herbs is because of the stick she keeps up her—Suddenly, you felt the advance of many tiny legs up your arm and instinctively moved to swat away the possible offender. Nothing…

"Is that a problem?"The woman said as another puff of smoke left her plump lips. The unyielding nature of her gaze pinned you to the spot.The way her blue eyes bore into yours and the enunciation of your name made it clear that she dared you to respond. You did not.The decision was already made for you.There was no getting out of this. "You are to ensure the proper conduct of all personnel under the employ of my organization. You will be solely responsible for the results of this endeavour, be it success or failure. If the conditions in which you will do so do not accommodate your skill, then consider yourself terminated. If this is not the case, you are dismissed".

The openness of the hallway was a refreshing reprieve. Walking a short distance away from Sir Integra's office, you caught your bearings and reflected on your circumstances. "I guess that means I'm hired..."

You walked down a corridor, not really having a destination in mind. You just needed to think. ‘Am I really cut out for this?’ It all just felt so overwhelming. What if you failed? How would you be able to afford to get back home? Could you go back home? Already, the familiar warmth of tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes.

The eerie silence of the hallways seemed to swallow you whole as the weight of your uncertainty bore down. Your muffled footsteps left soft thuds against the carpeted marble floor, the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet. As if sensing your distress, the door lining the corridor slowly creaked open and beckoned you forth, revealing dimly lit rooms. Shadows danced within, casting an unsettling atmosphere that matched your turbulent thoughts. The soft yellow glow of the hallway lights bounced off of your ID badge and mixed with its myriad of colors. Your eyes traced over the hard piece of plastic, already sick of seeing the organization’s namesake. You shook your head. No, you can't think like this anymore! Stop with the negative self-talk! You’re not in America anymore— this is your chance to start again and prove yourself. You deserved to be here! As you continued to wander, the air within the building began to grow colder and clammier. The sudden oppressiveness of the atmosphere made even breathing uncomfortable. ‘What's going on?’ From your periphery, a particular painting caught your eye. It was of an aristocratic woman. Elegant and tall. Though beautiful, something was off. The eyes...Why were they red? You stood under the painting, observing it like a child would an attraction. Though sizable, you felt like the painting’s dwarfing effect couldn’t exactly be attributed to the painting's breadth.

"I see you've discovered Lady Integra's collection." For a short time, your surroundings were a blur as your eyes searched for the new variable.Your sights found its prize when it rested on the source of the rich baritone and smokey cologne: A man. As his chiseled jawline, silky raven hair, and broad shoulders emerged from the darker corners of the hall, more of his appearance came to light. Atop his dark tresses, laid a red wide brimmed hat that matched his red duster , and underfoot, were long leather boots. To complete the man’s strange ensemble, was his pair of orange sunglasses that reflected a brilliant sunset orange amongst the backdrop of shadows. Was this a popular dress style in England? You regarded the strange man with a level of suspicion, allowing the swell of goose pimples that were beginning to form to justify your apprehension. Clearly, this man must be an employee here; after all, he just spoke of Sir Integra. But where is his ID badge? You released a cold puff of air and gathered yourself.

“Y-yes, I have. It’s quite beautiful.” After a short pause, the man gives an appreciative hum. He approached the painting- and by extension, you- with measured strides.Though you tried not to make it obvious, the way your eyes tracked every inch of the man’s movement made your anxiety palpable. You eyed the man’s Adam’s Apple as it bobbed, like he was drinking in your fear. You chided yourself for the silly thought. Peeking through the sides of his glasses, you swore you saw crimson. It’s just a trick of the light.

“Aye, it is, isn't it? A true testament to humanity's will to rebuke what is their natural inheritance. It is but an inevitability, the grip of death, yet pieces like these ensure one will forever persist; even if it is through mere paper and colored earth. Humans…are so fascinating.”

You look up at the strange man, taking into consideration his words. “I…never really thought about it in that way. I suppose the tendency for humanity to preserve itself can be admirable, but I also can’t help but wonder when it stops being worth it to try. How many hours of labor and hardship did it take for one to even get the materials for this? Was the artist that was commissioned for this even compensated? Were they under duress? Countless resources, likely at others expense, just to spite the inevitable. At what point does it become insanity to continue?” To some extent, you wonder if the investment in such decadence could ever not be seen as tasteful. The man tilted his head in confusion, though his glasses made it difficult to tell. He later meets your gaze once more with a wide grin. “And yet it is here for you to ponder on. You still admire it, do you not?” You suppose he’s right about that…you suppose. “Mmh.”

“Alucard” What? Oh, of course, your name! “ W-here are my manners? It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alucard!" You extended your arm for a handshake. Alucard raised an eyebrow, his expression hinting amusement at your sudden enthusiasm . Despite this, he gently took your hand in his. "The pleasure is all mine, dear" he murmurs, his voice smooth like velvet. As he released your hand, but not before a moment of arrest. The man was unnaturally cold. This made little sense considering he was wearing gloves. You stared down at them, noticing the odd symbols that traced along the smooth fabric.

"So, do you work here?” You ask nervously. “...My dear child, military compounds are not known for hosting tours” Alucard chuckles. You blushed as you kicked yourself for having asked such a stupid question. Unfortunately, it was not the last, but as the conversation between the two of you progressed, you found his biting sarcasm to be…entertaining? Clearly, the man was just as (if not more) entertained by you. From the sneaking glances at his spectacles, hints of amusement expressed itself through the veiled outlines of his eyes.

“Say, earlier when we were talking about that painting, you mentioned something about how humans are ‘fascinating’...” His strong jaw tilted to give you a cryptic expression. The corners of his eyes crinkled in delight as his cheshire smile welded together to tease a truth not yet privy to you. “Yes, and what of it?”

Swirling sunset eyes met with yours. Questions went unsaid and the impossibility of his eye’s inhuman color went unattended to by your psyche. Drawn to his preternatural beauty like a moth to a flame, your delicate digits found respite along the cool angles of Alucard's jaw; his long arms wrapped around your delicate waist in turn.

The satisfied gleam in his eyes turned a bright vermillion, though this did not register to you. After all, how could it when the point of his nose felt so good against the curve of your neck? How could anything matter when the light feather kisses along the new trail of bruises felt so right? You were floating on a fluffy cloud. You leaned in more to seek the comfort of his tongue's girth as he further suckled upon your skin. Pads of your breasts being kneaded was the button needed to release the breathy moan that escaped from your lips. You ached with need, he could smell it. A whine escaped from your lips as Alucard withdrew slightly, a wicked grin spread across his face as he assessed your feeble state. Your arm tickled at the way his gloved fingers danced along your skin. Your jaw felt good in between his fingers, you thought.

“My dear, you wished to know what I meant when I spoke of humanity…Do you still want to know?” It was unfair really. How could you possibly answer such a thing when he was toying with your body like this? When his large hands dared to roam under the fabric of your clothes and to your heat? When his tall nose tickled its way so sweetly along the surface of your cheek until his lips could reach the shell of your ear to continue whispering sweet temptations? Bent sinfully, the Vampire King sampled more of your flavor, though careful not to break any skin—Yet.

“Why do you reject it? Why deny yourself ? Sweet thing, allow me to show you the pleasures of surrender.” 'That... Maybe that wouldn't be so bad...', your mind drifts. The ghost of affirmation clung to your lips by a finger. That shouldn't be a problem, right?

“Is that a problem?” Your mind thought back to that woman..

Blood, as Alucard has learned over the centuries, tasted better when given freely. He just needed the word. He began to coo at you, sure that his prize was soon to be had. Your eyebrows knitted together and your hands reached to push at Alucard's broad shoulders. From your periphery, true would be found. His teeth…His eyes…You couldn't even recall when he'd taken off his glasses…

He's going to kill you, isn't he? Your first day on the job... Will be your last. Though the bulk of your freewill had mostly seeped out and left a vast space for persuasion, the 'bulk of' didn’t mean all. Blunt nails made harsh contact with soft skin. Streaks of scrapped flesh mirrored the streaks of salty water that cascaded down your cheeks. Quickly, reserved defiance turned into a desperate fight for life. Just as quickly, however, your body tired and could no longer accommodate your frantic attempts. Your mind followed suit when the previous bloody tears against pale flesh sealed; leaving no sign of damage behind. “H-help!” It seemed that no such thing would come. Worse than before, the echoes of your voice did nothing to salve the desperate disposition of your nerves. You were truly alone…Never had a smile looked so sickening.

You weren't going to win. Whoever this is, whatever this is, was going to kill you and there was nothing you could do about it.

"Please... Make it quick” Alucard, at your words, sniffed in disgust. His initial features of surprise quickly turned into an acrid distaste. Suddenly, the rotten blood of ghouls would be more preferable than the presence of a coward. Humans who were so willing to just forfeit their life...

"Disgusting," Alucard spits out, recoiling as if offered a meal of festered meat and a chalice of pus. Disdain etches itself onto his angular features, a look of utter contempt. His venomous glare pierced through you, freezing your very soul. Though “free”, you were not sure if you were better off in this situation or the former. Meek human eyes locked gazes with hot coals from the depths of hell.

“BACK AWAY FROM THE GIRL OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO SHOOT!"

The man in the familiar tactical gear,‘Birminghamman’, you vaguely recall, shouts as he points his firearm at the haunting figure. The presence of another human did not, unfortunately, improve your spirits. In fact, the presence of more bodies and more guns made the situation ironically more tense. Red eyes laid no heed to the crowd forming around the spectacle; it's attention only on you.

There was no other form of acknowledgement other than a mere scoff. The specter of a man swiveled on booted heels and was welcomed by the darker expanse of the hallway. Crimson lined shadows retreated, leaving nothing but dotted black plumes in its wake.

Birmingham was the last to lower his gun. "M-miss, are you alright?” You really weren't sure how to answer that question. Were you okay? “Listen, if you need to go to the infirmar—”, You recoiled at his reassuring gesture, only able to stare back owlishly.

You were told everything.

[ostentatiouslyonigiri]

POV: You're Gojo and Miwa asked for you to take her picture, but you make a video instead 😁🕶️🔵🟣🔴

[ostentatiouslyonigiri]

Illumi Zoldyck prompt # 41

“Why’re you crying? Aren’t you happy to be with me?”

Clad in your usual attire of washed out bluejeans, worn out sneakers, and an oversized sweater just begging to be put out of its misery, the weather was a bit humid and the sky was overcast. The stickiness of the air clung to your skin like a child would to its mother and served to only support your bed and cover's plea for you to return, and once again, bask in its embrace—but today was special. Your fiancé, Jaren, had just finished his medical thesis on the ethics of healthcare and was going to present it to the campus' esteemed doctors, who would occasionally come to scout out new talent.Jaren wasn't dumb, he was actually quite brilliant; though his predisposition to overanalyze, and thus slow his progress on a project, created the impression of incompetency. In a school as expensive and competitive as his, even the notion of ineptitude was enough to ruin careers and social standings before they even began. Despite his faults, you still loved him all the same. Even if he wasn't the richest or most handsome guy, even if he couldn't provide for you both as much as you would have liked, and even if he was somewhat forgetful of certain dates, you were happy all the same. He was going to ace this, and when he did, he'll come home to a delicious meal!

As you made your way to the store with the money you managed to scrape by, you hummed to yourself a song that refused to leave. You stopped. Your head shifted around and the rhythmic pitter patter of your shoes hitting the pavement came to a halt. Something in the air felt off. The normally populated market center was now a ghost town and you don't like it. Making a mental note not to idle too much, you pushed the uneasy feeling deep into your mind and continued on.

What you saw as you entered the store was something no person should ever see: Slumped against the wall, face contorted in a silent scream, was the body-no corpse- of a man. Where his eyes should be, were needles; multiples of them all crammed into the sockets of the man as his hands were held against the wall with more of said needles. Stumbling back one step, two steps, then four, you grabbed your phone and called the police. Hours later, the once idle shopping center became rife with crowds of people and police; all trying to get their fill of the incident to either report to online sources or simply to curb their morbid curiosity. Police, soon after establishing the crime scene, ushered out what was left of said crowd and continued with their administrations. Of course, after questioning, you too joined those escorted out of the store...But as you left with the crowd, you felt the piercing stare of an unnerving and unappreciated presence. Your movements slowed and time seemed to yield, as if acknowledging as well the unsettling

cautiousness of the situation. Shifting from person to person, your brain searched desperately to pin the disquieting feeling being forced onto you as your eyes scanned the crowd.

Black hair; traces of long,silky,locks added with the impassive,yet obsessive, stare of the pale spectre only served to further disturb you. Observing the stranger, you couldn't help but to notice the odd beauty he possessed. His face was perfectly sculpted and was reminiscent to that of a porcelain doll, and his large coal black eyes- though creepy- only added to his hauntingly good looks.How long had you been staring at him? Bringing your mind back to the present, you quickly oriented yourself with the crowd of people and like that, the stranger was gone. 'How curious…', you thought to yourself.

It had all happened so fast; the days that later turned into months following your meeting with the beautiful stranger yielded some interesting results. For one, the rent that seemed to only continue being pushed back with the hope of being satisfied when things got better, were suddenly paid for.That annoying neighbor that insisted that we were too loud, suddenly found us to be less annoying and became sparse. You even mysteriously found that particular brand of perfume you've always wanted was right at your doorstep, ready to be used.As these kind gestures from the universe seemed to throw itself at you,your fiancé you joked about the source of it all. Maybe a fellow student at his university was silently acknowledging his hard work and contributions to his study, or maybe, you joked, it was a ghostly secret admirer showing his appreciation through great generosity. You found the idea funny, as someone as average as you would never gain such attention like that. Even though you found the idea amusing, your darling certainly didn't.He believed that this was dangerous and would come to bite them later. In all of these suggestions, never once did you assume that it could be the doing of the beautiful man you saw all those months ago. As the presents grew, so too did a lingering presence similar to the beautiful stranger's, follow suit. Could it be him? Whatever this was, it was a somewhat welcome extra help; well at least, it was, anyway.

While Lady Luck seemed to be smiling down on you in particular, she did not grant Jaren the same courtesy. On one occasion, Jaren found that his keys and other items were missing. Perhaps he misplaced them? You remember that night he had a seminar to attend and taking the bus was not viable. You tried your best to calm him down; you assured him that they would appear eventually, and that he could use what little money you got from your measly cashier job to send him on his way with a taxi.When he came home, he had stabbed his foot on a needle. On another occasion, the thesis paper he had painstakingly written and rewritten, to perfection, had been deleted right before a big presentation.You didn't know how it happened, as it had multiple backups, but this did not bode well for him,his reputation, or the grant money that you both came to rely on to make ends meet. Slowly, but surely, this situation became less and less amusing, and more and more stressful on your relationship. As the days dragged on and as the gifts increased, disaster struck.It's funny really how easily things came apart once he received a letter of expulsion for his supposed plagiarization of other more reputable studies. It was swift and brutal.

Suddenly, you went from living as comfortably as you and your love possibly could in your humble apartment, to relying on this secret admirer's kindly donations to keep you from being homeless. Though you tried to stay positive for the both of you, it was not enough. "I've had it with this stalker! My life is ruined, (Y/n)". Through gentle touches and caressing affection, you tried to assure him that perhaps this was all just a mistake on the school's part, and that all would get better; that was a bad move. " Don't you get it? It's done! I will never become a surgeon-I'll never be able to support you. Support us. What kind of man am I, that even this creep can be a better provider for you than me ?", He exclaimed. As he sat on the floor and sobbed into your arms, you felt the many hands and claws of agony grab onto your heart and pull. The intense gaze that seemed to surround you at almost every given day only intensified as the man in your arms gradually broke down. Was it enjoying it? It had to be, because if he even seemed to be doing well in the slightest, it's aura changed to a sickly one. As you came home from a particularly long day of work, Jaren was nowhere to be seen. At first, you believed that maybe he went to go blow off some steam with some of the few schoolmates that stayed by his side, but when you called them, they hadn't even seen him since the day he was expelled. You tried calling his mom; no response. It was as if he had disappeared off the face of the Earth.

This was all so long ago. As Mother Nature looked down upon the night sky and decorated it with flashes of light and sounds of thunder. The rain hitting the window with little thumps against the glass only served to ground you to your unpleasant reality. Today was the day you would give yourself to your secret admirer; or as you've now come to know him as Illumi. You knew that at some point in your newly established marriage that this would be an inevitability, but funnily time had a way of sneaking up on you while simultaneously giving the illusion of having plenty of it.

There you stood in the mirror, clad with the expensive lingerie that your dear husband's mother had ever so lovingly picked out for you. It hugged your curves with an embrace that could only be rivaled by him. It was a shame that said person had to be the one to see it and not your beloved from so long ago…

"You've been taking a long time". You jumped at the sudden introduction of Illumi. He often did this, wholey unconcerned about how awkward it made interactions with him become, or how you would wince when he went to touch you. This was way different then how Jaren would approach you. "I thought I told you to wait on the bed until I get back...Did I not make myself clear?". Just like every interaction with Illumi, this was rhetorical; an order that was phrased as something open to response on your part, but was merely his way of pushing you to bend to his desires. Not wanting to add to the scars from punishments given to you when you did not heed the danger in his voice, you affected a smile, and confirmed that he indeed stated that. He never was one to accept excuses.

Seeing the discomfort in the way you shyly shifted away from him as he snaked his arms around your waist, his normally impassive face shifting into a frown.

"( Y/n), do I not do a good job providing for you?". As you struggled to beat down the lump in your throat, Illumi's slender hands cupped your breasts, giving special attention to your nipples. Tensing ever so slightly, you prepared for another generic answer, but before you could, he spoke again: "Tell me, when you were with that good for nothing, did my gifts not satisfy you when he couldn't?".Tears pricked the sides of your eyes as you willed yourself to hold your tongue. Yet again, right when you were preparing to give yet another generic answer, his hand slid down from your breast and gently began rubbing circles around your now budding nub. His long silky hair and cool breath tickled your neck. You didn't want to admit it, but sometimes the gentleness of his touch was enough to make you want to give in to him, even if he was clearly in the wrong.

Though you didn't give a verbal answer, he seemed satisfied with the answer your body gave. Taking your silence as permission, he caged your body in his and led you to the bed. It was at this moment that the tears you had been holding back broke, and you found yourself to be only a mess of sobs and gasps. Towering above you as his hair became walls of ink , blocking out any and everything except his impassive gaze, he stood there as uncaring as ever and watched you unravel before him. Somewhat visibly annoyed, he wipes the tears falling down the sides of your face in a facsimile of fondness. " Why are you crying? Aren't you happy to be with me?".

Just as you'd done before, you gave in and did as he wanted. You gave him another set of words that would satisfy his need for control; "Yes, of course I'm happy to be with you".

After all, he was your husband and you were his cute, obedient, little wife.

[ostentatiouslyonigiri]

Chapter 2:

First Impressions Mean Everything

Firm gloved hands danced about your body, much like a painter's brush would on a white canvas. ‘Here?’The velvet voice questioned, its elegant digit petted the moist surface of your inner thigh. You didn't reply, or at least you don't think you did. Despite that, the voice's finger moved on to yet another area of your glistening form. How long ago has it been since this sick little game began? A couple minutes ago? An hour? Unnatural purrs traveled straight to your womanhood. A girthy tongue lavished the flavor of your living flesh as it made snail trails up towards your thighs, past your navel, and then finally, to your neck. ‘Why does it seem like this always ends the same way?’ ‘Here?’ Though you knew this was the entity's ultimate goal, you didn't understand why it took such sadistic pleasure in this game of feigned uncertainty. You merely stayed silent. A gentle kiss was placed on the intersection between your shoulder and your neck. You resigned yourself to the situation, hoping for the entity to grow bored. The soft purring morphed into a guttural growl and you let out a feminine squeal as blunted dentition bullied its way into your flesh. You hated that your moans were not only from pain.

The white canvas was now stained with spots of red. 

You woke with a start, your hand pressing against your chest as your lungs worked overtime to pump air into your body. After a couple of minutes, your panting subsided, and the ‘thump’ of blood against vessels subsided. Looking around your room, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Modestly sized boxes laid semi open in the corners of the room, your bra was draped over the lone chair, and the bottle of sleeping pills remained, as it was, on the nightstand. Moving from side to side, you noticed that the silk sheets of your bed were absolutely soaked in sweat. You groaned. What time is it? You set your tired eyes upon the modest clock: ‘0:500’.“Fuck”

The shrill shriek of the faucet handle was a small price to pay considering the night that you had. Or nights, you should say. After the incident, you have not been able to get any sleep. Worse yet were the strange dreams nightmares. The whole set of circumstances confused you. ‘So vampires really do exist’, you mused. Your bare feet made slapping sounds against the bathroom tile as they led you to the mirror, which conveniently doubled as a medicine cabinet. As your hand gripped the oak wood of the mirror and prepared to swipe it open—You paused.

“At attention, ladies! We have a new member of Hellsing, so make sure to give this young Miss a warm welcome.”

Tangled, disheveled hair, sweat covered skin, and tired, owlish eyes reflected back at you. You looked like shit. The tips of your fingers dotted curiously over your glistened skin as your eyes trailed ahead to aid in its investigation. All seemed plain until your fingers stopped at your nape. What is that? A large, angry , bruise met your eyes. The layer covering the purple seemed strained and thin, with the exception of the shallow scrapes along the parts of the abused skin that had it the worst. Crescent indentations arranged themselves into a mocking ring. The blade of your nose hovered in front of the mirror's surface as you positioned yourself to get a better look. This can't be what it looks like. You must have scratched yourself in your sleep. Yanking open the cabinet, medical supplies flew from their shelves as you pooled them together. Scanning over the collection with a sigh, you felt at least somewhat satisfied with what you had. A familiar ‘thump’ sounded against your ears walls and your chest began to ache. You took in deep breathes, and full exhales. You just needed a good shower. Everything will be okay. 

With his firm hand on the small of your back, the older man gently beckoned you forth. The hard plastic of your ID absorbed the brunt of your anxiety as you willed an affable expression. The humble room was packed to capacity and the muted color of the soldier's uniforms all melded together to form a sea of black and green; accentuated by touches of red from the men's berets. Scanning the crowd, you noticed the stoney faces of the men, and peppered amongst them, was a barrier of skepticism. Some were more youthful than others, but that only made their stolid expressions even more sad. It was like the joyous and carefree spirit common amongst the youthful was sucked dry from their being. This really is a military compound. You let out a small gulp. Tucked away a little further in the back, was a familiar tuft of wavy hair. ‘Birmingham?’ Strangely, seeing his distinct hair and boyish features put you slightly at ease. He gave you a small awkward smile, and you returned it with one of your own. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen! As you probably know, I am the new manager of the HR department. I know that there can be some misconceptions about HR and what we do. It is for this reason that I have gathered you all here today.” You looked around the room to gauge the men's response. Okay, so no tomatoes thrown so far. “Alright! I'm going to go down the roster to ensure that everyone for this class is in attendance.” You wasted no time in calling out names. Things were going smoothly, until you got a little ways down the list. ‘Alucard’. You merely skipped over it. After your short introduction, you had them watch a presentation and then passed out acknowledgement forms. “So, do any of you have any questions for me?”, you ask with a sigh. The room was uncomfortably silent, save for the ruffling of tactical gear shifting against the plastic chairs. The air was unbearably stiff and all you could do was fight against the urge to fidget. ‘Please, someone say something…’ A hand raised, which prompted an appreciative smile.

“Oi Teach, so are you sayin’ that you're here to keep me and the boys from havin’ a good time? Sounds bloody dreadful.”, a blonde soldier said. “W-well, no, nothing like that. I just want to ensure that proper conduct is being maintai—” “We don't need it. Sorry to say Girly, but we're armed men; not toddlers. And we especially don't need some broad who likes getting frisked by the undead freak tellin’ us what to do!”Ouch. Like a match lit in a gas filled chamber, the stiff atmosphere from before exploded into a frenzy of discourse. The more chivalrous of the group hailed words of disdain at the blonde, displeased with his foul language. Some felt emboldened and vocalized their agreement with the man, while others, who were more level-headed, oriented themselves somewhere in the middle. Amongst the rabble, there stood little ol’ you, trying to parse through their words with logic. This was an endeavor that the dampness of your eyes proved to be more difficult than not. Your mind no longer even wanted to. You knew that it all came down to the same sentiment: There was hardly any reason for you to be here. Looking down at the ground, your thoughts continued to run wild with despair. The only silver lining was that attention was no longer on you, but rather their bickering about you. God must have wanted a laugh, because just as the thought appeared, the older man barked out an order and put an end to the debate and the attention was back on you.

“Men, I need not remind you that the young Miss has been handpicked by our commander, Sir Integra. Failing to adhere by the rules of management is tantamount to disobeying a direct order. I need not say more.” Your name doesn't hold such weight…Your eyes travel to the older man's name tag: “Cpt. Fargason”. You were not a captain, either. You gulped down the frog in your throat. “Thank you, Captain Fargason”You say with a cough. “I think now is the proper time to conclude this meeting. If you all would be so inclined—” The shrill sound of metal against the floor was followed by the retreating pounding of boots. A sizable amount of papers still remained on the desks, uninked. Some of them, at least, had the decency to shake your hand. To you though, the good deed was nothing more than a consolation. You were sure that the strained lines of skin around squinted eyes and tautness of their smile was not given from a place of respect. You hated it, but gave a ‘firm’ handshake of your own.  By the end, it was just you and the kindly paternal older man. Fargason gave you a pitying look and reassuring pat on the shoulder. It didn’t make you feel any better. After all, how could it? The others didn’t and he was no different.

You were crying

The tip of Alucard’s tall elegant nose rose to beckon for more of the salinated air. Though a curse, it was times like these that drew out a begrudging appreciation for his vampirism, as much as it had robbed him. What started off as a moment to feed his curiosity, morphed into a feast of unabashed hedonism at your expense. As a sticky string of snot trickled onto your blouse, staining it, Alucard giggled at the groan that passed your lips. The introduction of yet another problem prompted a heave even more strained than the others. Alucard was almost certain that if it were not for your clipped sobs, even the likes of you would hear him. Minutes must have passed, as the sounds of barely contained bawls became whimpers, which turned into sniffling, and eventually subdued silence. The conclusion of this private performance prompted a scoff, ‘What a pitiful creature’. It surprises him that even saying that sounded hollow to him. Growing  bored, Alucard’s shadows began their retreat. “Gah—!”, he paused. ‘Oh?’

Your fingers, now syrupy, clasped your neck in what has become a horrible habit (for you at least). Parts of your middle and index finger were covered in modest trickles of blood. Ah, and what a fine delicacy it was. A pointed tongue slid over hungry, serrated teeth as the indecent tent in his trousers further expressed his desire. Irony presented itself in the form of strings of saliva trickling down his plump lips in a fashion much similar to the mess from your nose. Observing you as you tended to your wound, Alucard admired his handiwork. Such a thing should have healed by now, though it is also true that it will not if one picks at it. Everyone had their vices, he supposed. Red eyes traveled down the thin path made from the crimson elixir that now pooled between your bosom. Shamelessly, they lingered. The hunger…it was beginning to grow painful. Trailing back up to your neck, a low growl strained through his teeth. Your ears perked up. ‘ Bad habits…’. By the time you turned your head, he was gone. 

“Can be helped when you know who to ask”

[ostentatiouslyonigiri]

HELLSING SHOWERTHOUGHT:

ALUCARD EDITION PT 1

A random Hellsing thought kind of came across my mind ( like always🥴).

So I'm pretty sure it's established in Hellsing that Alucard can mess with people's minds (and to some extent, telepathy). For the former, we saw this with the bellboy scene and for the latter, we (kinda) see this with him and Seras after Anderson chops Alucard's head off. Now, I know it wasn't exactlyyy stated that he can communicate with others in the same way that he can with his fledgling, but I kinda headcanon it anyway 🤷🏿.

In any case, I'd like to imagine that with reader (or anyone really) he generally has no qualms with violating the privacy of others by reading their thoughts. Now most of the time, it's not worth doing so because he, quite frankly, doesn't care about the thoughts and opinions of others. As is the case with just about everything in life, there are exceptions.

Some of the people who would be an exception are obviously: His master, Sir Integra, Seras, and Walter(RIP). Of course there are some others that I have not named, but these are the top examples that I can think of. Now, you might be wondering, "What makes them the exceptions?", and to that I say it all comes down to one thing: Respect. Alucard respects Integra due to her strength and pride in her humanity. With Seras, it's much the same (even though her tiptoeing along to being a vamp annoyed), because she had the desire to survive and keep her humanity intact even after accepting her vampirism. With Walter, it was because he was a strong and accomplished vampire hunter, and despite being a human, was damn good at his job. Moreover, he took pride in aging and appreciated how much of a privilege that is (or at least he did). In short, all of the aforementioned people in his life demonstrated strength, resilience, and pride in their humanity. To get back to the point, it's no coincidence that he never felt the need to constantly peruse their thoughts, and that's because they, in his mind, earned their autonomy. We only really see him screwing with people's minds when it concerns those "lower" than him.

As this relates to a reader character, I truly do believe that on some level, him invading the reader's mind is a litmus test on how much he respects them. Now, he might grow to like the reader, but that doesn't necessarily exclude them from being someone he doesn't respect fully. You might even adamantly protest him doing such, but up until a certain point, the issue will be met with nothing more than a sarcastic remark or endearment. I don't think it's binary, but rather a there's ratio in relation to his respect for someone and his use of telepathy on said person. On a side note though, if you manage to be someone that Alucard likes, but doesn't necessarily respect, then you are a frickin' unicorn, my friend.

End rant