Alucard with anxiety is a headcannon you can pry from my cold dead hands
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03 Apr 2018
“You’re staring.” Lyudmil says suddenly, not looking up from the dough-braids he’s still working on.
Shame washes itself over Alucard, and even though the embarrassment consumes him, his skin does not gain heat or color. One of the many signs of his inhumanity.
“Apologies,” Is all Alucard says back, looking down at his hands and away from the flour smudged on Lyudmil’s cheek.