But Madara Would Take This By A Long Shot 💓

The only thing that I don't really like about Prey is how they moved Predator: 1718 out of the canon. It's a pretty short story, no more than 10 pages but as the sometimes overanalytic artist I am, I wanted to remark something.

These two pages might not be the big thing but oh boy. Besides giving some background to the beloved Greyback from the Predator 2 movie, he decided to do the effort of preparing a decent place for Adolini to rest, also recognizing him as some sort of warrior, guided by his beliefs just as him.

He had no reason to give a dead body his weapon, Adolini just offered his gun and that's all, but even as brief as their encounter was, he gained his respect. A hard task to do (well, depending who you ask) for such fierce creatures.

Sketch drawn by Hirano involving a certain song to celebrate the ending of the manga. From the 2012 official guidebook.

lowkey just curious but do u have any tips for drawing yautjas? :]

Hi! Tbh this is somewhat difficult to answer, and is specially because of their heads that is the biggest "anomaly" compared to the rest of their bodies. I'll be just listing the things I noticed trough all my time drawing them, so I hope this helps.

First of all, their mouths are similar to ours in terms of how they open and close, but the skin of their cheeks is attached to the tusks. This is pretty clear when you look at pictures but when I first started drawing them this was one of my biggest isues.

The tusks are like extra bones connected to the jaws, formed by two joints, base and fang mobility.

Here is a little example using said pictures. It might seem like the upper tusks have three joints but no, they are just kinda close to the inner mouth and the upper jaw sides sometimes can be mistaken by part of the tusk. While doing this I noticed I use to do that tiny error.

Their heads are a lot more easier than some might think. The position and size of the eyes are same as ours because remember many of the movie predators are actors with massive build heads.

It consist in two parts: a crest and the hard skin that covers the base of the tresses, sometimes being more spiked, bumpy, or smooth

This, however, is not always the rule and the appearance of it can change drastically. Just look at Wolf and the emissaries (Sorry for the quality lol) or even Feral and Berserker but these two have the excuse of being a subspecies.

Hands are similar to us too but more scaly. Sometimes they have a side claw just like their feets an the texture depends, bumpy, plated or just textured like the rest of the boddy. The finger pads are just their normal skin but subespecies like Feral look like if they had something similar to gecko pads.

I tend to do them plated, is more fun to me

Gender dimorphism depends a lot on what you want to do. Its said that females are sleeker and with tiny, sharper mandibles and some others say they look exactly the same as males and bigger. Just have fun I guess.

I might add more but this is what I can think about for now, thanks for leaving your ask :D

Wish I knew how to paint figures..AmikArtest showed me this from another seller and did a search.

Can not get it painted already.

Yo, kinky thought (18+)

The first time you and Alucard have sex, he gives you a wooden crucifix with a sharp lower point, instructing you to use it on him should he get too rough or start to lose control

i don't need to explain myself you all know what i'm talkin about

Twin Flames- Chapter 3

“You can build another home with me.”

“Sugar daddy” Madara x Nurse!Reader

I heard people enjoy Izuna. Please have some more of him 💕. They were supposed to meet anyways. Happy early birthday Izuna! @margretesonigiri

On AO3

Warnings: romance, flirting, teasing, bratty brother Words: 3905

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“Izuna. You will be tactful tonight. You will not torment Y/N.” A deep voice sounded through the room, commanding the other man.

The younger brother almost busted out in laughter. “Yes, yes. I’ll behave myself. Wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your sweetheart,” he snickered cheekily.

“Your opinions are valued when kept to yourself. No one cares for them.” Madara glared disapprovingly at his younger brother. He wondered if it was worth bringing Izuna. “You are only here because Y/N wanted to see you.”

“Aw she cares about me more than your disdain for my presence! You should be careful. Maybe she’ll fall for my good looks when she sees it next to your sour puss! That must be why you didn’t want me here.” He lay fresh slices of a white fish in neat rows on a plate.

A knife chopped hard into the cutting board. You had suggested hot pot for tonight’s dinner, a traditional Japanese winter food, then stated it’s too much for only two people, so more should be invited, people like Izuna. You were excited to see his how his brother was doing.

“You can be at ease niisan. I won’t harass Y/N, she helped save me after all,” Izuna started sweetly. “You on the other hand…” Fair game.

You’d offered to arrive early to assist with the food preparation, but Madara declined, stating they were the hosts and it was okay for you to come closer to meal time. He needed to talk sense into his little brother first.

Madara glowered at Izuna. “Hn. I can handle myself. You should worry about humiliating yourself.”

The bell chimed and Madara went to answer it, his scowl dropping upon seeing you, replaced by a small tilt of the lips. “Y/N,” he nodded, “Come on in.” He moved to help you with your heavy winter coat.

“Madara! Hi! It smells heavenly in here. What are you preparing? By the way, I brought the whiskey you like.” You handed the loot to him and craned your neck to give him a peck to the lips after he turned back to you. Madara blinked. “Is Izuna already here?”

“Good evening Y/N. We’re just about finished getting everything ready.” Izuna appeared from the other side of the foyer, a knowing look on his face as he wiped his hands on the front of an apron.

“Izuna! It’s great to see you again! I’m so happy you’re well.” You smiled at Izuna, holding out your hand to him in greeting.

“The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for your care back then. I’m glad to be able to see you again too.” Izuna took your hand, but then pulled you towards him in a hug, his gaze soft. I hope this works out between you and niisan. He saw the changes in his brother over the past months since being with you. He suspected even others who weren’t as familiar with Madara as he was could see as well. Calmer, more willing to talk, happy. Your presence in Madara’s life was a soothing balm to him. “He talks about you all the time.”

You straightened, not expecting such a warm welcome, then relaxed and returned Izuna’s embrace. You were conscious of already feeling relaxed around Izuna, a stark difference from the nervous wreck you were on that first date with Madara months ago. “I hope those are only good things he says.”

“Only compliments, Y/N.” Izuna gave you a wink.

Madara led you and Izuna back to the kitchen, his hand unconsciously on the small of your back as if you didn’t know where the kitchen was. “Have a look. I think you’ll enjoy the menu tonight,” Madara said to you.

A stove was built into the dining table, the large pot on top already simmering. You spotted carrots, mushrooms, and tofu poking through the broth surface. The table was covered in plates of thinly sliced meats and seafood of every variety. Several sake glasses were laid out in waiting with inarizushi and other small dishes to the side.

A mixture of fresh, simple ingredients boiled together in perfect harmony, bringing forth a mouth-watering fragrance that saturated the air as the food cooked. It wasn’t too heavy at all. Madara asked what you wanted and served you first. Once the pot was mostly emptied, he placed the next round of meat to cook, keeping an eye out if you required anything.

“Cheers!” The trio of you clapped your sake glasses together and sipped. You thanked them for inviting you tonight to share this meal.

Madara plopped a piece of inarizushi in his bowl. “There is no need to thank us Y/N. It should be Izuna thanking us for inviting him over tonight.” He gave Izuna a sideways look.

Izuna snorted. “The more, the merrier. Do you not know the first rule of hot pot?”

“It probably isn’t to scoop all the meat for yourself.”

“It’s not my fault you only eat stuffed tofu.”

“Hn. I suppose someone needs more meat on the bones.”

You looked back and forth, then plucked a piece of that yummy white fish, which you learned was Pacific cod, and ate it. You sat back for the show.

The feast continued with shots fired in both directions. The roasts were getting spicy! You glanced between the brothers again, unable to suppress a giggle. If Madara and Izuna continued, you wouldn’t be shocked if they started spitting fire at each other!

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A temporary truce was called for clean-up to happen. You were pleasantly surprised with this other side of Madara, never expecting him to be so silly when his brother was around. It was endearing and you’d love to do this again.

The leftovers were packed and you helped Izuna with rinsing the dishes before loading the dishwasher. You insisted on pre-washing the more heavily soiled plates before placing them in the machine. You had trouble with the cap on the new bottle of dishwashing detergent.

“Madara? Could you help me open this?” You asked, looking across the room at him.

It was only a second, but when he didn’t come over at once, Madara noticed Izuna giving him the hairy eyeball, as if daring him to tell Izuna to help instead since he was closer. The look plainly stated, Brother, you’re so dumb. Madara wordlessly made his way over to the sink where you were. He came from behind, wrapping his arms around you to grasp the bottle, and twisted it open. “You’re welcome,” he whispered against your ear before disappearing back to where he was, leaving you bashful while Izuna tried to stifle his laugh and failed miserably.

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Within the quiet setting of this spacious retreat in the sky, the mood was anything but tranquil. You played a strategic board game with Madara and Izuna while the brothers continued to abuse each other. Placing your tokens, you only realized your error after your turn ended. You scowled at yourself. Madara took out several of Izuna’s units, but agreed to an amiable trade more beneficial to you than himself.

“You two are like a gang,” Izuna complained, “picking on me constantly. There‘s no chance for me this game. I am green with envy for your relationship, but I’m afraid I might have the runs if niisan keeps coming after me.”

“Hmm like this green tea mousse cheesecake we’re having.” You mentioned offhandedly, savouring the delicious taste of your slice.

Madara stared incredulously at your comment. He didn’t need to hear your analogy, only to remember your profession and how you enjoyed these tasteless jokes at times.

You cackled at his expression. “Is the great Madara scared of a bit of poop?"

“We are having dessert.”

"So? I can still eat. What about you Izuna? How's your appetite?"

"I could eat your share too niisan. It’s a great cake," came the cheeky reply.

Madara's lip twitched. You weren’t this willful when you were alone with him. Fantastic, now there were two adult rascals he must supervise. “Izuna, I’m taking you out.”

The game ended with Madara on top, you in the middle, and Izuna losing after having most of his army annihilated by Madara. The victor was exceedingly satisfied with himself. And full of contentment, having spent the night with his two most cherished people in his home, even if one of them was annoying. Too bad he cared for his brother so much.

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“You can use my bedroom tonight. Izuna and I will stay in other rooms.” Madara opened the walk-in and led you inside. “I bought you clothes in case you stay over so you won’t have to wear mine again. We can get more.”

“Madara! You’re doing it again. I brought my own clothing for the night you know.”

He bent down and took your lips, hands coming to your hips to hold you close.

“This isn’t nearly enough. I should be doing more for you,” he murmured against your lips.

Leaning into him, you kissed back with your palms to his pecs, accepting his embrace and the gift, deciding the clothes were a minor concession in the grand scheme of things, then stepped away to shower. Left to yourself, you thought back to how life used to be utterly mundane. The same things, day in and day out. Now you appreciated even the most ordinary, most boring parts of daily life which became colourful and exciting if it was with Madara by your side. It was like the sun broke the horizon and you finally saw the world’s spectacular kaleidoscope of colours in vivid detail for the first time. It was blinding. It was beautiful. Like the night was painted over with dazzling sun.

Exiting the washroom, you saw that Madara was still in the main bedroom with you, sitting on the edge of the bed. Your heart jumped. Izuna is here! And there’s no door! He looked thoughtful.

“Y/N, I have something else for you. Please accept it.” He held up something shiny that jingled. You gasped. The keys to the penthouse.

“You can use this condo whenever you want.” He looked around. “Change whatever you want too, make it yours. I’ve been arranging the paperwork to change the ownership to your name. You just have to sign when they’re ready. It’s yours.”

You were initially speechless. “I –Madara. This is way too much. I already told you no more of these extravagant gifts! I can’t take this.” It’s a penthouse. Downtown. Was Madara insane? This property was worth millions.

His dark eyes bore into you.

“If this is about my role in helping Izuna, stop. I was just one of many. It was my job. I’m not some angel or anything that pure if you see me that way. I’m often not even a good Samaritan.”

Madara’s eyes closed. He knew you would refuse him. He felt disturbingly vulnerable during these moments when he was forced to voice his unfathomable emotions, but he would push through for you. He needed you to understand. “What’s between us is no longer about Izuna.”

“I already have a home. I don’t need another place to live,” you continued.

“This place is much closer to your hospital and school than yours. The commute will be easier on you and you won’t be nearly as tired. I can arrange to have food ready and cleaning too. Let me take care of you. You can build another home with me.” He brushed your face with the back of his fingers and looked at you tenderly.

You stared back helplessly, tears rising to the surface again. But you wouldn’t let them fall this time. Why was he so good to you? Hugging him tightly, you buried your face in his muscled chest, his arms snaking around you to return the hold.

"I will accept the keys, but not the papers." Thank you for everything you do.

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Several days later, you were ending your shift by giving your chemically paralyzed patient a bed bath so he was freshened up for the next nurse. Everything else was already done: extra bags of paralyzing agents and several other medication drips mixed, fluid balances, and documentation completed. The dressings were changed much earlier. After many transfusions and the bedside bronchoscopy, the blood gas values finally improved and he was more stable than in the morning.

Starting at the chest, you scrubbed with medicated wipes, ensuring you got between all the dips and folds on the body, letting them dry before you draped the body with the new gown. You made your way to the legs and did the same, then came back to the crotch with plain bath wipes.

Erk! You had to spend a lot of time scrubbing this man’s cheesy glans, lamenting how so many people even among healthcare workers didn’t know how to wash a dick properly. It gave foreskin a bad reputation that saddened you. You huffed, briefly wondering what Madara looked like in his birthday suit before banishing the thought instantly. It was fortunate you were still required to wear a face mask at work –no one who happened to walk in could see the evidence of your inopportune reverie.

With the shift over, you changed and headed to the pickup with Jasna at your side as you caught up.

“Y/N, I didn’t see you all day. Did you have a good shift?” she said.

“The guy was sick, but it was steady the whole day when I wasn’t on break. Manageable. No catastrophic workload where I had to worry if I might kill someone by accident. Yours?” You responded. It’s been weeks since you worked together, and your unit was such a huge ICU that even when you do, you might not be in each other’s vicinity or see each other.

“Wasn’t bad either, surprisingly. When I received report this morning, I was expecting much worse, but it was just a long series of small annoyances today. Are you still seeing Madara? Any new developments?” She lived vicariously through you.

You offered her a sheepish grin. “I think we’re officially dating now. Even went to his house recently for hot pot to celebrate the New Year and saw Izuna too.”

“Wow look at you! Dating Madara! How did he ask you?” Jasna wrapped an arm around your shoulders, eager to hear more, certain it must be an excellent story.

“Umm, it was a strange day when we were celebrating his birthday on Christmas Eve. Look, he’s here. I have to go now. Bye!” You weren’t going to divulge how Madara talked about seeing inside you, even if it was Jasna. Nope, no way. She would take the conversation in another direction. You slipped out of her grasp and rushed over to Madara.

“Hey wait! I’ll get it out of you eventually,” she snickered. “Have a great night Y/N.”

There he was waiting in the warmth of his car, arms crossed as he watched you in contemplation. Madara observed your spirited, carefree interaction with your colleague, who looked familiar to him. Must be another nurse. It was a stark contrast to your anxiety around him when you first started seeing each other. It had been upsetting when you were stressed from being with him and he didn’t know how to convey to you to relax. Although you remained periodically tense in his presence, he felt encouraged by your growing willingness to seek his touch and banter with him.

He stepped out of his car to open the door for you, nodding at this other nurse in greeting as she passed. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights, her head bobbed before she wished him goodnight and rushed off. You tittered to yourself at Jasna’s reaction to Madara. It was sweet of him to offer to pick you up, even if tonight’s restaurant was a close walk. He refused to let you freeze in this weather.

The short drive was pleasant. Madara inquired about your day, his hand comfortably resting on yours as you recalled to him several funny moments today while he chuckled quietly.

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You caught yourself rambling during dinner and reminded yourself to slow down, even if Madara didn’t interrupt you. You were a grown ass woman with your own place and a job, but still Madara managed to make you feel like a starry-eyed teenager! Feeling silly, you asked him how he was. You were adequately self-aware to realize before today that you gushed at times in your attempts to fill the silence. But despite being acquainted with the major facts about Madara, you didn’t know nearly as many details about him after he shut you down the first time you inquired. It was difficult to convince Madara to speak about himself.

“Hn. Business as usual, although there is an upcoming conference that’ll span several weeks. I’ll be in Japan.” Madara stared pointedly at you to memorize your features as if he’d never see you again. “It’s hosted by the Senju family. They’re prolific builders of all sorts of property, maybe you’ve heard of Senju Hashirama?”

“Never heard of him. Is he famous?” You asked innocently.

Madara chuckled in delight, amused how outside so-called elite circles, regular people were quite unaware of the dealings between the upper echelons of society, even if the Senju family was almost like royalty in their field. The Senju weren’t the worst of them, but wherever big money was, the rich found a way to get themselves involved.

“You’re not missing much. He’s a buffoon.”

“Oh! It’s him!” You giggled, remembering Madara’s uncharacteristic ranting during a previous call following his heated day.

For the Uchiha, they were involved in a plethora of blade-related industries. Their luxury knives, weaponry, and cutting equipment sales were a minor source of income, however successful they were. The real money was from owning the mines where construction materials and quality ores for industrial metals came from and sourcing these vital materials to industries around the world. And knowing how to invest in these resources and other stocks.

“If it’s a property development conference, why will you be there?” You dabbed your lips with the napkin under Madara’s intense scrutiny.

He smiled at you. “Construction requires ample raw materials and cutting equipment, both of which we provide. There’ll be parts dedicated solely to research and innovation for those topics.”

You sighed in disappointment. Another few weeks without Madara. “It seems we spend more time apart than we see each other. I hope you have a successful conference.” You were unable to resist pouting.

The warmth that spread through him at your confession was unstoppable. He gave you a smug look. “It seems as if you’re already missing me, well before I’ve even left.”

“Of course I’ll miss you! I mean, I won’t! I mean… yes, oh, I don’t know!” You blabbed until you stopped yourself in dismay. “You’re riling me up on purpose!”

Look at him! Elbow to the table, squishing his cheek on his fist as he smirked at your expense! He thoroughly enjoyed causing your embarrassment in public!

Madara threw his head back and belly laughed in earnest, the smooth tone reverberating and shaking you to the core. He reached across the table to scoop up your fingertips in his hand. “I apologize Y/N for your distress, but that was much too good to pass up.” He grinned as his eyes twinkled.

“Hmph.” You maintained your air of mock indignance. “Keep it up and I won’t let you drop me off at home. Remind you you’re not being a gentleman tonight.”

“Oh? Here I thought you enjoyed the heated seats in my car.”

Darn, outed. “A little chill will help clear my head of any misplaced longing for you and your teasing ways. The subway is always an option.”

His eyes scanned your face, entertaining your words with the grin still plastered to his. “I can keep you comfortable though,” he purred. You shuddered, not missing the double meaning. Your eyes almost crossed as you gaped at him. Definitely not a gentleman tonight.

Quickly recovering, you rolled your eyes at him and asked, “Have you ever even taken the subway before?” You doubted this fancy man would enjoy the proximity of hundreds of strangers at any time of day.

“No.” Just as you thought, you smiled while shaking your head.

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The bill came, after you and Madara ‘made up,’ not that there were hard feelings from the back and forth earlier. He had backed off and let your mortification die.

“Here.” You waved the server over. Madara’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting the bill?”

He frowned deeply at the prospect of you treating him for dinner. “What man allows that?” He took the receipt from the server.

"Lots of couples take turns. You are so traditional! Are you from the Stone Ages?!" You tried to snatch the small paper back, but Madara had longer arms and he held it from you.

Madara liked when you challenged him, but not on this. He wouldn’t allow this. He spoke before thinking.

"I wasn't aware this is how the sugar daddy dynamic worked." He stated flatly, distraught by your actions and sentiment, however well-intentioned, the strong desire to care for you overwhelming. He was also the one with greater means after all.

You stiffened. Sugar daddy. Right, that was how you met.

You implored him to at least let you buy your own share of dinner. You needed to.

“No. It is my duty to provide for you.”

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His words hurt, even if you didn’t let on how much they affected you. You and Madara never acknowledged the fact you met on a sugar dating site. The development of your relationship seemed genuine and organic. Perhaps it was awkward to start, but it had grown into something warm and natural. At times he was difficult to read, but you knew this man was kind and caring behind his seemingly indifferent exterior. Being with Madara brought you greater joy than most things. It wasn’t like either of you felt the need to even assign a definitive label to what you had.

Madara’s words were a painful reminder of the imbalance in this relationship, even if he once mentioned you were equals and had been very good to you from the start. How could you be equals when you hailed from completely different upbringings and worlds?

The roads were icy, your breathing creating puffs of fog with every exhale before you settled in the car. Naturally, Madara was driving you home. He insisted, and you craved his company. He looked slightly tense, but didn’t seem he was aware of your brooding.

“I’d like to invite you to a formal party next weekend. It’s a gathering with another major metal-working company in the province.” He glanced at you briefly, once again bringing his hand to seek physical contact with yours as he completed a left turn. It was a high-end formal event, but in his mind, still considered a minor party without the biggest industrial players in the world. Madara thought you might be interested.

You were staring at your feet when he asked. Would you belong? You peered over at your man longingly, chest tightening. Your hand flipped around to clutch his properly.

“I will be there.”

~To be continued~

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Notes:

This chapter 3 got long, so I cut it in two.

I’m of the group who thinks the S/O is initially more smitten than Madara, but he falls way harder. “Acts of Service” is his main love language, so he’s quite preoccupied with taking care of her. Madara doesn't do half-assed measures. It’s over for Madara, even if he hasn’t said the words yet. He’s hers 💖

The Way You Look Tonight

Chapter two • Enemies to lovers

Author’s note: I've re-read this chapter four times while editing, and it still creeps me out a little. Then again, I have a bit of a wild imagination.

Contents: MULTI-CHAPTER, Alucard (Hellsing)xfem!reader, eventual NSFW, written in 2nd person, relatively ambiguous time period but pre-2000s, reader and family members descriptions (other than clothes and personalities) are kept ambiguous for the sake of inclusion, ghost Alucard (kind of?), spooky stuff, Integra is dead and the Hellsing Organization has been dissolved.

3.2k words

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Within the week, the electricity had been fixed. You don't need to worry about your lamp's batteries corroding anymore when you put new ones in. Neither do you have to squint in the dim light of a single candle to see the dark shadow in the corner of your room. Now, with the small bulb chandelier in your room, there was no corner that light couldn't reach, even in the dead of night. That seemed to give you a newfound sense of confidence, which had previously been killed when your childhood fear of the dark was rekindled one week ago in the dining room. You still couldn't figure out what it was you’d run into. All the dining room chairs had cushions that were made of rough fabric. Not smooth and silky to the touch. Whatever it was… You knew what you felt. It was a person. There was no other excuse. And you weren't crazy. But you had no choice but to let the matter go. All the clues you might have gotten to there being something wrong with this place led you to nowhere. Your strange dream led you to the manor’s layout which led you to a cut-off page with the letter “D,” being your only tie to an answer. There was simply no logical explanation for the corroding batteries. You didn't even know what caused batteries to corrode other than time. Heat? That was impossible. The house had been freezing that night. You stick to your only answer, “D.” Or was it a “B?” The page had been cut off. Then were you right about a basement? If that was true, and there was a basement, then the previous owner really had something to hide if they cut it out of the building’s layout. The only thing left to do was check for a basement entrance. The problem with that plan was… that the only access to the lower level of the manor you had was the kitchen, the dining room, and the entertainment room. The rest was currently undergoing renovations. Water damage, rats, and other pests — that's what your father told you. If you wanted to get a look around without getting into trouble you’d have to go at night. Hell no. That spelled disaster. You’d read enough mystery horror books to know not to do that. So, with a mystery-hungry heart, you continued to help around the house while trying to forget your strange discoveries and just enjoy the place. 

You were currently helping your mother in the garden, which was admittedly beautiful. You couldn't imagine what it used to look like when it had a full team of gardeners. Great big hedges sparkling after being freshly watered in the morning, fountains running, the sound of splashing water adding to the chirping melody of the birds. That’s what you imagined at least. Right now, it was still a work in progress. You were responsible for taking care of the fountain. Which was more satisfying than you thought it would be. Scrubbing the dry algae off the emptied basins was rather therapeutic and took your mind off of the happenings. This was short-lived, however. As you straightened up and wiped a bead of sweat from your brow, you caught movement in one of the upper-story windows. Your window. You paused, setting down the hard-bristled brush for a moment. That couldn't be your brother… he wasn't… well- he wasn't that tall, to be honest. He was a teenager, and you towered a good five inches over your brother still. Whoever that was… 

“Is Dad fixing something in my room?” You turn your head for just a moment. Your mother looks up from the dirt she’d been packing in around some freshly planted flowers and gives you a confused glance. 

“No… why?” Her eyes drag up to your window. 

You turn your head again, about to point up at the figure in the window only to find you’ve been played a fool a second time. This felt similar to the dining room incident — in that it made you look crazy.

"I saw someone up there." You say, feeling uncomfortable. You turn your head again and see your mother's skeptical expression as she continues to look up at your window.

“I’m sure we would have noticed if someone we didn't know came into the house. It was probably just a shadow.” She turns back to the dirt and continues packing it around the flowers before moving on to the next. 

You're not as willing as your mother to give up the matter. Now, your job of scrubbing algae can't be over fast enough. When you finish, you don't even bother washing your hands. You take yourself up the stairs, a burn of annoyance giving you a burst of adrenaline that may or may not have been encouraged by it being broad daylight, and push your door open. It's empty. Exactly as you anticipated. But that doesn’t stop you from fixing the window with a glare, checking under your bed, and then fixing your hair before walking back to the door, where you turn, hold out the middle finger, and close the dor. Whatever… ghost… was messing with you... Well, it wasn't funny. Not that you believed in ghosts, of course.

Nonverbally saying “fuck you” to a ghost was clearly a bad idea. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but shortly afterward, the electricity was acting weird. Your brother had come down from his room for once to complain about how “this stupid house is busted”. His computer was apparently shutting off right when he was about to complete a level in his game. You even came up with your dad to watch it happen. Right when he was at the end of his level, the screen went black. Your dad checked the outlet, unplugged it, plugged it back in, and told your brother to give it another try. So with a sigh, your brother would reboot his computer and run the game. Same problem. It ended with your dad scratching his head and muttering about calling the electricity guys again. You, however, with your newfound skepticism, were positive that you’d pissed the house ghost off by giving it the finger. 

“It’s probably a ghost messing with you.” You’d told your bother.

“The ghost can go fuck off.” Was his grumbled response as he turned to his bookcase instead. 

You turned in after dinner, carrying a full glass of water up to your room to set on the bedside table, which had a gross crusty ring left over from the batteries. You’d tried to wipe it off the best you could but… the wood was ruined. The one thing you’d liked about candles or lamps was how easy it was to turn them off or blow them out and shove the covers up and over your head. A light switch? Not so much. Especially when the room felt like it… stretched… in the dark. You took a sip of your water before turning to shut off the light. Climbing into bed amidst the dark, you muttered to the ghost (which you half-believed in) to, “not be weird.”

That night, sleep seemed to escape you. Like standing too far away from the ocean on the shore. When you thought it might reach you… it dragged itself back. You had no memory of falling asleep… but when you woke… it was because a chorus of stringed instruments and deafening piano seemed to be searing into your ears as your world burst into color. Through your eyelids, you saw light and movement, shadows falling over your eyelids like sunspots through a tree. You open them with a gasp and find yourself standing in the middle of a ballroom. Confusion lapses you and you reach down to pinch your hand tightly to wake yourself up — which hurts. It's covered in a long, silk glove. None of the colors you wear seem to keep a constant. The shape of your dress — if you were wearing one, you're not sure —  and even the people around you never stay constant. They change form as they move with the waltz at a gallivanting pace around you. You try to follow them with your eyes — to make out what’s even happening around you — but the task feels impossible. Turning frantically, you catch an opening in the figures and run towards it, hoisting heavy skirts up (so it was a dress?). The space is quickly taken up by red. A deep, blood-red cloak, and a charcoal gray suit tucked beneath it. You’re too slow to stop yourself and crash into the figure. It was that fabric. Warm satin and the dull sound a human chest makes when it's beat against. You back up slower than you had the night you first encountered that feeling… and slowly look up at the only solid shape in this dream. Nothing about him changes or shifts. His colors do not even change in hue or tone. Red, charcoal, and black, black hair. You’re not quite sure if his hair is short or long. It seems to evade your memory somehow. But you know it's dark and unruly and frames his shadowed face in a wicked way as he grins down at you with a mouth full of teeth too sharp to be human. He feels far too real to be a part of your dream. Image stark and crisp compared to the fogginess of the others and even your own body. It feels like he towers over you. Proportions not quite right. You stagger back. Too slow. He surges unnaturally forward and takes up your hand with his gloved one, the other gripping your waist tightly. Too fast to gain footing, you're thrown into a waltz that you cannot keep up with. It's the same pace as the inconstant dancers around you. Spinning, spinning, you grip his shoulder with desperation as your hair whips against your face. As chaos unfolds, your feet clumsily stumble. Seeking solace, you bury your face into his chest, briefly capturing the aroma of copper and perfume. No warmth comes from him, despite how real he feels.

 The music picks up at an impossible pace. A pace no one could ever hope to properly waltz to… and you're spun even faster. Then, the music rises into a quick crescendo, and then the notes seem to… fall… as if they were falling off the very air. The song is ending too fast for your body to register… and all too soon, your dancer lets go of you. Your hand slips off his shoulder and the force of the awful, spinning waltz throws you cruelly to the floor in a flutter of skirts against the hard, hard surface beneath you. 

Your eyes shoot open and the silent dark of your room echoes around you. You’re on the floor, nowhere near your bed, and very, very sore. Laying there, belly-down on the cold wood, you let out a slow and shaky breath before pushing yourself onto your knees. You feel vulnerable in the middle of that huge room. It's too dark to see a thing. The moon is barely visible tonight. But the eerie silence is enough to encourage you to stumble back into bed with a confused and exhausted whimper. The music feels like it rings an echo of itself in your ears, and you still feel your dancer’s bruising grip on your hand and waist. The covers are cold. You’d been sweating in your sleep… and the dampness was not the least bit comforting. 

⛤

The day after that was dreary. It was as if your strange dream had put a fog over your entire world. Cloud cover. Autumn was approaching, so it was fitting. Your mother said that there would be a thunderstorm tonight. One look at the blackened sky and you believed her. Going for a walk, you’d taken to the road that led away from the manor. It was a much-needed break from the place. The surrounding countryside felt cold and wet despite it not having rained yet. The smell and the chill helped you clear your mind a bit. 

Despite everything — the bizarre dreams, feeling things in the dark, seeing things — you… didn't miss home. No. The manor had way too many things locked away in the dark waiting to be found for you to wish them away and out of your memory so soon. You almost felt like a kid again. Running about trying to solve imaginary mysteries. And that dream you’d had, more so, how you’d found yourself when you’d woken from it. You never used to sleepwalk like that. It was so strange. And your muscles were so sore as if you’d actually been dancing. Maybe the lack of restful sleep was getting to you.

You lost track of time out in the grass and had only just begun walking back to the house when you felt the chill of a drop of rain on your nose. By the time you were through the manor’s gate you were soaked. But the rain and the countryside had brought a strange clarity to your mind. Looking towards the manor in the distance… You swore you saw someone standing there waiting in front of the door, cloaked in red. The body in the dark, the figure in the window, the dancing man. Were they all the same person? A flash of lightning high in the sky and the rolling rumble that followed seemed to wick him away from reality. You never thought to believe in ghosts until now. Now, as you hurry up the steps and open the door, you're sure that there’s a ghost haunting this place. 

You’d taken a shower to get the smell of dampness off of you. By the time you were done, the light of the sun that filtered through the thick clouds had disappeared completely. Something about the rain beating on the roof comforted you as you walked through the dim hallway to your room. It seemed to fill what would usually be an uncomfortable silence. Taking up the empty spots in your mind and lining them with a lulling white noise. Flipping on the light in your room, you take note of the empty glass on your bedside table. A dull dread tickles at the back of your neck. You knew you’d be miserable all night if you woke up thirsty and with nothing to drink. This day would have come eventually, you tell yourself. At least the power works now. Still, you take a flashlight. 

The rain lulls to silence as you descend the stairs to the kitchen. That makes you uneasy. It was as if some protective blanket had been peeled off your back. Your steps on the marble echo as you make your way through the dining room, which is eerie in the light of your flashlight, and onto the tiled floor of the most harrowing room you know of in the manor. The kitchen looks even more worn with age than the rest of the house, even after you and your mother have spent the last week cleaning it up. Slowly, you make your way over to the sink, fitting your flashlight under your armpit while you fill up your glass. Over the sound of the sink, you hear a whisper. You shut the water off and pause, standing perfectly still while you strain your ears. Nothing. You turn the water on full to fill the glass up in a mere second. Some spills over the lip and into the sink, wetting your fingers. You don't care about that though. You turn and make your quick exit from the kitchen, only glancing back when you're in the doorway. That's where you pause, turning your flashlight onto the room one last time… just to be sure. The dull white light spills across the counter and the big fridge, reflecting off of hanging pots and pans and the old tile floor. When the light begins to buzz brighter, you already know what's going to happen. It begins to flicker… slowly at first and then fast like a strobe. You waste no time in turning tail and running up the stairs. There’d be no repeat of the dining room. You swear on it. Your feet thump on the carpet with each hurried step, water spilling from your glass as you reach the top with a gasp of breath and take a sharp turn for the hallway leading to your room. Halfway there… your stomach drops in horror when you hear footsteps running up the stairs after you. It's like someone was mimicking you. Same tempo, same speed. Fast footsteps. Your brain kicks into raw adrenaline, realizing you're being chased. You feel like a wolf chased by something that is not a wolf. Not used to being scared like this… but knowing deep in your gut to run and hide. You can't even think to scream. Your eyes begin to water and your breath comes out in ragged fear-strained rasps. Flinging your door open, you don't bother looking over your shoulder as you slam it closed behind you. The footsteps follow quickly — bare like your own — and come right up to the door where they stop abruptly. Your heart climbs into your throat as you stand there. A slab of wood keeps you and… it… separated. Holding your breath and bracing your forearm on the door… you wait in silence with eyes wider than they’d ever been in your life. Your flashlight had long since gone out and hangs dead in your hand, while your other one struggles not to shake while keeping the glass of water upright. It was still there. Still there. Still there. Waiting. The footsteps had stopped. It was waiting. Waiting there on the other side of the door just as silently as you. When your lungs burn, you realize that you still have yet to take a breath. Slowly, you let it draw out before taking another, quiet breath in and holding it. You couldn't miss a single sound. Not a single sound could escape your ears right now. Something was outside your door, you’d heard it loud and clear, chasing you. So… why were you doubting your own judgment? Perhaps... you were simply imagining things. Maybe it was just your imagination getting the best of you. This couldn't be real. It just couldn't. It couldn't be real it- 

“Hey.” 

You stiffen. You swore you just heard a whisper through the door. Right up against it. It couldn't be a trick of your ears. The sound was so crisp. The voice so unfamiliar: low, raspy, and amused. The thought that there was some… thing… on the other side, pressing its face right up against the crack in the door to whisper- you have to bite your lips to keep yourself from bursting into tears. This is a nightmare. A nightmare. An awful nightmare. 

But you can't sit here all night. So… gathering your strength, you set down your glass and flashlight on the floor. You pause, hand on the doorknob, thinking about what the hell you’d do if there was something there. Scream, you supposed. With that, you yank the door open. 

You're met with nothing. You look in both directions of the hall, left — nothing — and right, towards the staircase — nothing. Breathing a sigh of relief, you shut the door. 

That night… You slept with the lights on. 

I know we shouldn't write for the stats, but I caught a cool moment when AO3 didn't update the numbers yet between the Author's Statistics and Works pages

This fic is like my baby and I'm SO proud of it !!! The 666 was gone shortly after.