#WHIMCHALLENGE [8. Precisa de sentido nas palavras? NĂO.] by @mercuryport !
âž»â áČđŒ ! NOTESâ ::â bastante atrasado? Com certeza, mas finalmente consegui participar desse maravilhoso desafio feito pela mercury !! O processo criativo para essa capa foi bem ??? das ideias: tudo começou quando mostrei essa capa pra May e ela disse que tava lembrando o meu paĂs CearĂĄ, e, logo em seguida, começou a tocar Luiz Gonzaga, que nasceu no meu continente Nordeste. Tem coisas que tinham que acontecer mesmo e tĂŽ satisfeito com o resultado, enfim lengo tengo đ
â„ïžàœČàŸ CAPA Ă ARTE ESOTĂRICA. E Ă s vezes nĂŁo faz sentido para o popular.
Nos movimentos lentos e quase parando do tumblr nos Ășltimos anos no quesito desafios e brincadeiras para capistas me peguei pensando: por onde anda os desafios que movimentavam essas bandas?
Dessa forma que surgiu o Whimsical Challenge, para apenas exercitar o que sabemos, aprendermos algo novo e tudo se moldar no que nĂŁo precisa de explicação. NĂŁo a explicação padrĂŁo que todos desejam por aĂ.
Escolha uma playlist que vocĂȘ goste muito e pense: qual a vibe dessa playlist? Qual a sensação que ela passa? Descubra a vibe e deixe a criatividade rolar! Ao postar, deixe o link para sabermos o que deu luz Ă tua arte.
Quando postar conte quais mĂșsicas caĂram para vocĂȘ. NĂŁo roube! E daĂ se nĂŁo faz sentido, aqui nada precisa fazer!
4 . COLE E COLE! Sorteie uma cartela de png's abaixo e faça uma capa.
Escolha um nĂșmero nesse formulĂĄrio e veja qual cartela de png's cai para vocĂȘ! Faça uma capa com TODOS os png's da cartela. Ă hora de exagerar. Viva ao maximalismo!
Me conte na resposta do formulĂĄrio qual cartela caiu. NĂŁo vale roubar!
Fantasia! Quando somos crianças inventamos tantas coisas⊠O que vocĂȘ inventava? Faça uma capa sobre isso! Nos conte a histĂłria se desejar.
10 . MEXIDĂO. Junte alguns tĂłpicos desse desafio e faça algo inusitado.
Faça uma capa com ao menos 5 pontos desse desafio! Ou maisâŠ
Junte ao menos 5 etapas feitas aqui e faça uma capa só! E VIVA O MAXIMALISMO MAIS UMA VEZ.
(Exemplo: junte elementos que usou na etapa 1, 4, 5, 8 e 9 e faça uma capa. APENAS EXEMPLO, faça com as etapas que desejar.) SE quiser ser mais radical, faça com todas as 9! Boa sorte!
Ao final do desafio, se desejar, conte o que achou. Ficarei feliz em saber.
E não esqueça de usar a tag #WHIMCHALLENGE para identificarmos as capas do desafio.
The sound of her bare feet slapping against the cobblestones was the only thing Yn could hear as she sprinted through the twisting alleys. Her breath came in sharp gasps, heart hammering in her chest. The city, usually bustling with life and noise, felt suffocating now. Too many corners. Too many eyes watching.
She knew these streets. Knew every crack in the stone, every loose board she could slip under, every shadow deep enough to swallow her whole. But none of it mattered when they were already closing in.
It had been a mistakeâstaying too long near the merchant stalls, laughing with the bakerâs daughter, standing in the sun where her face could be seen. She hadn't noticed the house master watching from the silk shop across the street. A man with gold-threaded robes and a calculating gaze, one who judged worth with a glance. And in that moment, he'd decided: Pretty enough.
"That one," he'd told his guards, voice cold and certain. "The Emperorâs harem has room for another."
And just like that, her fate was sealed.
Yn had been running ever since, slipping through side streets, dodging hands that reached for her. Her legs burned, her lungs screamed for air, but she didnât stop. Couldnât stop. She knew what happened to girls taken behind those gilded walls. They became ornaments. Playthings. Forgotten names and silent mouths.
"Get back here, girl!" a guard barked from behind, heavy boots pounding the ground. "Donât make this harder!"
Harder? It was already impossible. She could hear the jangle of armor, the sharp whistle one man gave to signal the others. They were surrounding her, closing the trap like wolves circling prey.
She ducked into a narrow alley, heart pounding in her ears, only to skid to a halt. Another guard stood at the end, smirking, arms crossed as if he'd been waiting. Of course they knew her routes. The streets she called home were nothing compared to the reach of palace dogs.
Desperation clawed at her throat. She spun around, ready to risk another path, when a hand snatched her wrist. Rough. Unforgiving.
"Let go!" she snarled, twisting and kicking, but her strength was nothing against the iron grip of someone trained for this.
The guard yanked her forward, face impassive. "You should be grateful," he muttered, almost bored. "The palace will feed you. Dress you in silk. Youâll live better than you ever did here."
Yn spat at his feet. "I'd rather starve in the streets."
The streets blurred past in a rush of dust and panic. Yn thrashed in the iron grip of the palace guards, bare feet scraping against the rough stone as they dragged her away from the life she knew. Her heart pounded in her ears, drowning out the muttered curses of the men hauling her toward the looming palace gates.
The slap came fast, sharp enough to make her ears ring. She tasted blood, but it only fueled the fire burning inside her chest. She thrashed, bit, kicked, but they were too many, too practiced. She was dragged, half-limp, through the streets she'd once run freely.
Onlookers turned away. No one interfered. Why would they? It wasnât the first time a pretty girl had been plucked from the gutter for a higher purpose.
"Hold still, you littleâ!" one growled, tightening his grip on her wrist.
Ynâs answer was swiftâa sharp twist and a vicious bite to the soft flesh of his hand. The guard yelped, jerking back, and she used the moment to kick at the otherâs shin, adrenaline making her wild.
âStupid girl!â The second guard stumbled, nearly dropping her. âYou think this fight matters? Youâre palace property now.â
âLike hell I am!â she spat, kicking again, heels digging into the ground as they pulled her forward. âYouâll have to kill me before I sit pretty in silk for some spoiled bastard!â
The third guard, older and wearier, only sighed. âThey always fight,â he muttered. âDoesnât change a damn thing.â
The palace walls loomed closer, golden in the dying light. Beautiful, cold, inescapable. A gilded cage. Sheâd heard the whispers from girls whoâd been taken before. Once you passed through those gates, you were no longer a person. Just another flower in the Emperor's garden, waiting to wither.
She didnât care. She couldnât care. If she stopped fighting, if she let them take her into that gilded prison, sheâd never see freedom again. Her fists lashed out, nails clawing at skin, voice raw from screaming as people on the streets turned away. No one interfered. No one ever interfered.
They reached the palace gates too soon. Tall, imposing, decorated with gold filigree that caught the dying light like fire. A beautiful lie.
The last thing she saw before the gates closed behind her was the sky turning crimsonâlike the universe itself was bleeding for her.
The guards didnât slow. One yanked her forward by the waist, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of rice. She kicked and punched, but his armor dulled the blows.
âLet me go, damn you!â Yn snarled, beating her fists against his back. âIâm not something you can claim!â
ââŠand with the new batch of girls brought in from the outer provinces, Your Majesty, Iâm certain youâll find one to your liking,â the steward said, her tone practiced and smooth. âThe ministers continue to whisper about heirs. A distraction might ease the pressure.â
The steward, an older woman with silver threaded through her dark hair, pressed on. âI selected them personallyâeducated, graceful, untouched by the corruption of the city. A few from the countryside, some from merchant families. The house master is already preparing themââ
A scream cut through the air, followed by the unmistakable thud of bodies hitting the ground.
Another shout echoed through the open courtyard outside the hall, followed by a string of curses sharp enough to make the gathered officials exchange uneasy glances.
âGet off me! Iâm not some prize to be bought and sold!â
The heavy wooden doors burst open, and two guards stumbled inside, struggling to restrain a young woman. Dirty, disheveled, and wild-eyed, she kicked and twisted with the kind of ferocity born from desperation.
One guard grunted as she drove her elbow into his ribs. âHold her down, damn it!â
The steward, flustered, hurried to explain. âAhâthis one, Your Majesty, was a last-minute acquisition. The house master saw her in the market and deemed her⊠suitable.â
He rose from his seat, robes whispering against the polished floor as he descended the steps of the dais. The guards stiffened but didnât move as their Emperor approached. HuÄng Xie padded silently behind him, tail flicking.
âTell me, street rat,â he murmured, voice low enough for only her to hear. âDo you know how many women have stood where you are now? Cleaned, polished, and presented like lacquered dolls?â
Ynâs breath hitched, but she refused to look away.
The words landed like stones in the hush that followed.
âTrain her, clean her, dress her in silk if you must.â He tilted his head, smile sharpening. âBut donât break her. I find her far more interesting when she bites.â
With that, he turned and ascended the steps once more, HuÄng Xie brushing past Ynâs side as if in silent approval.
âYour Majesty,â she began, voice tight with strained composure, âI deeply apologize for the disturbance. I had no idea the girl would be so⊠unruly.â
The steward swallowed hard, choosing her words carefully. âRest assured, I will personally speak to the girl. Sheâs clearly frightened and unaware of her place. Given time, Iâm certain she can be⊠molded into something more fitting for the palace.â
The stewardâs eyes widened. âN-no, Your Majesty. I only meant to ensure she understands the reality of her situation. I will calm her down, speak sense to her. The last thing we need is for her defiance to spread among the other girls.â
âGood,â he murmured. âDo try. I look forward to seeing how long it takes for her to slip through your fingers â
The walls of the concubine house closed around Yn like a silk-covered cageâbeautiful, suffocating, and inescapable. She stumbled into the courtyard, wrists raw from the ropes they'd only just cut loose. Her clothes, once practical and sturdy for street life, were torn and stained with dirt from her struggle. Stray strands of hair clung to her sweaty face, and her chest heaved with exhausted defiance.
âMove.â
The guard shoved her forward, and Yn barely caught herself, stumbling onto the pristine stone pathway. Around her, silk-clad women paused in their embroidery and quiet gossip, eyes narrowing in assessment. Some whispered behind delicate fans. Others looked away, uninterested.
Her heart pounded in her chest, panic rising like bile in her throat. Her arms were aching from the tight grip of the guards, but she refused to show any weakness. She wasnât going to submit. Not to them. Not to the Emperor. Not to this life.
One of the guards, the one who had been the most vocal in dragging her here, chuckled cruelly. âI canât wait to see how long it takes for her to turn sweet and obedient. Youâll break, eventually,â he said with a nasty grin, his eyes roaming over her dirtied clothes and disheveled hair.
Ynâs chest tightened, the insult cutting deeper than she expected. Something inside her snappedâher resolve hardened, her pride surging up through the anger burning in her veins.
Before any of the guards could react, Yn swung her fist. It was a wild, desperate motion, one driven by instinct and fury. She aimed for the manâs jaw, hoping for even a hint of satisfaction.
But her aim was off. The force of her punch collided with his face, but the impact wasnât as satisfying as sheâd hoped. Her fist instead struck his nose, the sickening crunch of bone splitting the air. The guard staggered back, his face bleeding, but Yn barely noticed. Her hands throbbed with a sharp, searing pain, and she let out a cry of frustration, clutching at her wrist.
âI told you to stop!â one of the guards shouted, seizing her by the arm. âYouâll pay for that!â
The two others closed in on her, eyes full of fury.
But before they could lay hands on her again, two figures stepped into the room. Lian, with her practiced grace, and Mei, her gaze hardened but filled with a quiet understanding. Lian took one look at the guards, her gaze icy.
âEnough,â she said firmly, voice carrying an authority that immediately made the guards hesitate. She glanced at Ynâs broken hand, then back at the guards with a disappointed sigh. âYouâve done enough. This is not how we handle matters here.â
Mei stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Ynâs bruised wrist. âLet me see,â she said softly, her voice soothing as she began to assess the damage. âYou were too rash. You shouldâve waited for a better moment.â
Yn gritted her teeth, pain coursing through her, but she didnât pull away. Mei was always gentle with her, unlike the others. She tried to resist, but the tears threatened to well up in her eyes as her hand was carefully tended to.
Lian crossed her arms, her gaze coolly sweeping over the guards. âIf you think a womanâs spirit can be broken with pain, youâre sorely mistaken. If you want obedience, try kindness. If you can manage that, maybe weâll see how it goes.â
The guards looked between each other, unsure of how to respond to the unexpected reprimand. Lian turned to Yn with a small, reassuring smile. âLetâs get you cleaned up,â she said, her tone softening just a bit. âYou need rest. Let the guards handle the rest of their mess.â
Mei gave Yn a sympathetic look, guiding her gently towards the back of the house to tend to her injuries while Lian kept her calm, her presence acting as a shield against the rest of the chaos around them.
Ynâs hand still throbbed, but in the midst of the pain, there was a small, flickering feelingâone that she hadnât had in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, she wasnât entirely alone in this.
Yn stood in the center of the bathhouse, the steam swirling around her like a suffocating fog. She felt exposed, her skin raw and dirty from the streets. She had been yanked from her life, torn away from everything she knew, and now she stood hereâalone. The thought of being forced into this bath, cleaned like some animal, ignited a bitterness in her chest.
She stood in her old, tattered clothes, a far cry from the lavish silk robes the other concubines wore. Her body was tired, covered in grime and the wear of the harsh life she had fought to survive. The humiliation of this situation hit her hard, like a weight pressing down on her chest, suffocating her resolve.
âDonât be shy,â Lianâs voice cut through her thoughts. Yn looked up to find the older girl standing at the doorway, her expression kind, but laced with an understanding that Yn couldnât quite grasp.
Mei was behind her, arms crossed, leaning against the wall with an expression that seemed to hide a great deal beneath her calm exterior. The steward watched from the side, her face unreadable, but there was a certain coldness in her gaze.
Yn remained still, the bitterness building, but Lian stepped closer. âLet us help you. Youâre not alone here.â
There was no escape. Yn knew that now. Her only choice was to play along, to endure, at least until she found a way out. The water, warm and inviting, seemed almost like a mockery. She didnât deserve it. She didnât deserve any of this.
But Lianâs voice softened, âYou need this. Let us clean you.â
Yn didnât respond immediately. She didnât want their help, but she didnât want to fight them, either. Slowly, reluctantly, she stepped into the bath, the warm water surrounding her as she lowered herself in. It felt like the water was mocking her, lapping against her skin with the same cold indifference the world had shown her. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth seep into her aching muscles, but it did little to ease the tension in her chest.
Lian motioned for the attendants, who poured water over Ynâs head, their hands gentle as they washed away the dirt that clung to her skin. Mei observed from the corner, quiet but watchful, her eyes never straying too far from Yn, as if waiting for her to break.
The scent of soap and oils filled the air, and for a brief moment, Yn was transported back to simpler times. Times when sheâd bathed in the quiet comfort of her own home, away from all this. But now, those memories were just thatâmemories.
âI know itâs hard,â Lian said, her voice gentle as she helped Yn scrub the dirt away. âBut youâll get used to it. We all do.â
Yn didnât respond, her eyes trained on the water beneath her, unable to meet their gaze. She didnât belong here. She wasnât like the others. She didnât want to be here.
Once the bath was finished, Lian helped Yn out of the water, her touch surprisingly gentle as she wrapped a towel around her. The heat of the water had relaxed her body, but her mind was still sharp, still defiant. She hadnât let them break her, not yet.
âYou should get dressed,â Lian said, offering her a robe made of soft, pale silk that contrasted sharply with the dirty, torn clothes she had been wearing.
Yn hesitated, glancing down at the fine fabric. She didnât want to wear this. She didnât want to be treated like this. But Lianâs steady gaze held hers, and with a resigned sigh, Yn slipped into the robe. It was soft, luxurious even, but it felt wrong on her body. She didnât deserve this. She was just another girl in this palace, another face in a sea of beautiful, obedient women.
Lian smiled, though it didnât quite reach her eyes. âItâll be alright. Weâre all in this together.â
Yn didnât speak, just nodded quietly. She didnât trust Lianâs words, not yet. But for now, she would play along. For now, she will survive. She had no other choice.
The steward watched silently, her eyes lingering on Yn for a moment longer before he turned to Lian and Mei. âGet her settled in,â she said, her tone flat.
Lian nodded and motioned for Yn to follow her. As they left the bathhouse, the scent of oils and soaps clung to Yn, and she couldnât shake the feeling that she had lost more than just her freedom.
But as they walked down the hall, she kept her head high, unwilling to let anyone see the tears that threatened to break free. She would endure this, but she wouldnât let it break her.
Not yet.
Lian led Yn through the quiet halls of the concubine quarters, the soft sound of their footsteps echoing off the polished floors. The other girlsâMei and a few othersâfollowed behind them in silence, casting glances at Yn every so often. Despite the warm gestures and kind words, Yn could feel their eyes on her, like they were trying to gauge whether she would fit in with them, or whether she would break under the pressure of palace life.
Finally, Lian stopped in front of a simple wooden door, its frame carved with intricate patterns, though it lacked the ornate grandeur of other rooms in the palace. She opened it with a soft click and motioned for Yn to enter.
"This is your room," Lian said, her voice soft but warm, like she was offering something precious. "Itâs simple, but itâs yours for as long as youâre here. You can decorate it as you like, and it will be a place of your own."
Yn stepped inside, her gaze immediately scanning the room. It was larger than any space she had ever had for herself, yet it felt almost too empty. A bed with white silks, a small table near the window, and a wardrobe on one side. In the corner, a display shelf for any gifts or tokens given to herâperhaps by the Emperor, perhaps by other guests.
But none of it mattered. It was just a gilded cage.
Her eyes flicked to the small window near the bed, where the moonlight leaked through the curtains, casting a pale glow on the room. She felt the weight of itâthis was not freedom. This was confinement dressed in silk.
Her fingers lightly traced the wood of the table as her mind worked, already scheming and planning. She knew this palace better than most, and she had spent enough time observing the guards, the routines of the servants, and the flow of life here to start putting the pieces together.
Lian and Mei stood by the door, watching her, though they said nothing for the moment. There was a tension in the airâan understanding between them that Yn wouldnât be here long if she had her way. But for now, they would let her have her space.
"It's... not as grand as some of the other rooms," Lian said, as if trying to reassure her. "But itâs comfortable, and the Emperor will likely send gifts for you in time."
Yn's eyes flicked toward the shelf where such gifts would be placed. Jewelry, perhaps, or other trinkets. Things she didnât want. Things she couldnât care less for. She had no use for any of it, not while she was stuck in this gilded cage.
âThank you,â Yn said quietly, her voice low but polite enough to mask the bitterness curling in her chest. She made a point not to look at Lian or the others, though she could feel their eyes still on her, watching her every move.
"You should rest," Mei said after a long silence, her voice soft. "Tomorrow will be a busy day, getting to know everyone and the routines here."
Yn didnât respond. She wasnât tired. Not yet. But she knew there was little use in resisting for now. She had to wait for the right moment.
âI will,â Yn finally said, taking a deep breath and glancing around the room again. Her gaze lingered on the small window. If she could find a way out, she would.
Lian stepped forward and gently set a folded robe on the bed. "Youâll need this for tomorrow. Something simple for when you meet with the others. The Emperor prefers it when we look... presentable."
Yn picked up the robe, eyeing it for a moment before tossing it aside carelessly. "I donât need it," she muttered under her breath.
Lian didn't seem to take offense. She just nodded, a soft understanding in her eyes. "Itâs your choice, but the Emperor will expect certain things from you. Youâll learn what they are soon enough."
Yn nodded without speaking, already mentally mapping out her next move. Sheâd have to be clever, patient, wait for the guards to grow lax in their vigilance. The layout of the palace was already ingrained in her memory, and she knew where the hidden passages and servant tunnels were. She could slip out unnoticed. It wasnât a matter of ifâit was a matter of when.
Mei and Lian lingered for a moment, both silently observing Yn, before Mei spoke, her voice calm. âWeâll leave you for now. But if you need anything... anything at all, let us know.â
Yn gave a small, almost imperceptible nod as they exited, the door clicking shut behind them. The room was silent now, save for the faint hum of the palace at night.
She moved to the window again, pressing her palm to the cool glass, her eyes scanning the courtyard below. Beyond the walls of the palace, there was freedom, and one day, she would reach it. She would escape.
Her fingers curled into a fist, the determination within her solidifying. She had been brought here against her will, but she would not let this be the end of her story. Not now. Not ever.
She turned away from the window, her eyes flicking over the room one last time, before she sank down onto the bed. Tomorrow, she will play the part. But tonightâtonight she would dream of escape.
Yn sat on the edge of the pristine silk-covered bed, her damp hair falling in loose strands around her face. The soft fabric of the robe Lian had given her felt foreign against her skin, far too delicate compared to the worn clothes sheâd lived in before. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of the curtains as a cool breeze slipped through the slightly ajar window.
Her gaze drifted to that window, moonlight pooling on the floor beneath it. It was small, but not impossible. If she could hoist herself up and slip through, she might land quietly in the courtyard below. The guards rotated shifts around midnightâsheâd seen it often enough when sneaking near the palace walls for scraps. If she timed it right, she could be gone before anyone even noticed she was missing.
But the walls. The palace walls were tall and smooth, built to keep people like her out⊠or in. Her brows furrowed as she leaned back, palms pressing into the plush bedding. Maybe if she could slip into the servant tunnels? They ran like veins through the palace, and the kitchen staff were up before dawn. If she could blend in, steal some plain clothesâ
Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft creak from the hallway. Instinctively, her body tensed, ready to fight, to run. But the sound faded, leaving only the weight of silence behind.
With a frustrated sigh, Yn dragged her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She hated this. The softness. The stillness. It wasnât hers. She belonged out there, under the stars, with dirt under her nails and freedom in her lungsânot locked away like a doll on display.
Her eyes flicked to the empty shelf meant for gifts. The thought made her stomach turn. She didnât want silks or jewels. She wanted the streets, the thrill of running barefoot down alleys, the warmth of the sun on her face as she bartered for fruit at the market.
She glanced at the door. Locked, of course. They werenât stupid.
Her head tipped back against the carved headboard, and she closed her eyes, mind still racing with plans. The window. The tunnels. The guard rotations. There had to be a way.
The moon climbed higher, casting pale light across her face as exhaustion finally began to creep in. Her thoughts slowed, tangled with dreams of scaling walls and slipping past watchful eyes.
Tomorrow. Sheâd find a way tomorrow.
Sleep claimed her quietly, the last thing on her mind not fear, but defiance.
The morning sun filtered through the paper screens, casting soft golden patterns across the floor. Yn stirred awake, momentarily disoriented by the softness beneath her. The bed. The silk. The scent of jasmine lingering in the air. Reality crashed down like a wave, and her muscles tensed as she sat up, heart pounding.
Still here.
Before she could plan her next move, a knock sounded at the door, sharp and precise.
"Lady Yn," Lianâs voice called from the other side. "Itâs time to rise. We have much to do today."
The door slid open before Yn could answer, and Lian, ever poised and graceful, stepped inside, followed by Mei, who offered a gentler smile. Both were dressed impeccably in pale, flowing robes, their hair twisted into intricate buns adorned with delicate pins.
Yn, by contrast, still wore the robe theyâd forced on her the night before. Wrinkled now, slightly askew, but no less suffocating.
"Iâm not interested," Yn muttered, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Go play palace doll without me."
Lianâs smile didnât waver, but her eyes sharpened. "Youâll find that disinterest is a luxury you canât afford here."
Mei stepped forward, her tone softer. "Weâre not your enemies, Yn. If you donât learn the rules, you'll suffer for it. Weâve seen it happen."
Yn met her gaze, reading the sincerity there. Mei looked tired, older than her youthful face should allow, like someone whoâd long since accepted her cage but still pitied the new birds thrown into it.
With a reluctant sigh, Yn stood. "Fine. Show me the circus."
The day began in the dressing hall. Rows of concubines, some chatting quietly, others silently enduring the hands of servants as they were preened and polished like ornaments. Lian led Yn to a quieter corner, where a maid waited with brushes and fabrics.
"Youâll be expected to look presentable at all times," Lian explained, arms crossed as she observed the maid combing through Yn's hair. "Even if the Emperor doesnât call for you, palace officials, visiting noblesâthey all watch. A single misstep can cost you everything."
Yn snorted. "Good. Maybe if I mess up enough, theyâll throw me out."
Mei winced. "Itâs not exile youâll face if you offend the wrong person."
The weight of that warning settled like a stone in Ynâs stomach.
After dressingâsimple robes, thankfully, nothing too elaborate for a first dayâthey moved to the outer gardens. Other concubines strolled along stone paths, laughing behind delicate fans, their faces masks of practiced ease. Servants flitted about, tending to blooms and fetching refreshments.
Lian gestured subtly as they walked. "Morning hours are for leisure. Reading, embroidery, musicâanything that shows refinement. If you canât sing, learn. If you canât play the qin, pretend youâre trying."
Yn eyed a group of women giggling under a willow tree. "And if Iâd rather climb that tree?"
Mei actually laughed, earning a sharp look from Lian. "Then youâll be gossip fodder for weeks. And youâll stand out. Which is dangerous."
The weight of their words pressed down harder with each passing minute. Meals were formal, conversation measured. Etiquette lessons filled the afternoonâhow to bow, how to walk, how to smile without baring teeth.
The soft patter of footsteps faded as Lian and Mei left Ynâs room, their gentle reminders of "Stay out of trouble" and "Donât wander too far" lingering in the air.
With a quiet huff, she stood, slipping into the simple shoes left by the door. The palace stretched far beyond the concubine quarters, and boredom was a dangerous motivator. If they were going to keep her here, she might as well learn its weaknesses.
The palace was alive with movement, a world within a world. Yn walked slowly through its winding corridors, her bare feet brushing against the cool stone. The scent of incense and fresh jasmine drifted through the air, mixing with the faint aroma of ink and parchment from the nearby study halls.
She had been left alone for the rest of the dayâan unusual mercy. Or perhaps an oversight. Either way, she intended to make use of it.
Her eyes flickered over the passing figures, each one a piece of the empireâs grand design.
A group of servants hurried past, carrying trays of steaming food and silken fabrics, their eyes kept low, their movements practiced and precise. She noticed how they barely spoke, only communicating in glances and nods. Their silence was not born from discipline, but from fear. Mistakes in the palace were costly.
Not far from them, a young boy, no older than six, clung to his nurseâs robes. A nobleâs child, judging by the embroidered silk of his tunic. His round face was scrunched in frustration, small hands tugging at the womanâs sleeve.
"I donât want to study!" he whined.
"Hush, young master," the nurse scolded, casting a nervous glance at the guards nearby. "Your father will hear of this."
Yn watched as the boy sulked but followed, disappearing behind a carved wooden screen. A child of powerâone already learning that in this palace, obedience meant survival.
She turned a corner and nearly walked into a pair of diplomats, their conversation sharp and clipped. They wore the colors of rival regions, their voices laced with careful politeness.
"The Emperorâs patience is not infinite," one murmured.
"Neither is his rule," the other countered, though more softly.
Yn kept walking, pretending not to hear. Politics were not her concern. Escape was.
Ahead, a line of imperial guards stood at attention, their polished armor gleaming in the morning light. They were like statues, barely breathing, eyes forward, unreadable. She had fought against these men only days agoâbiting, kicking, drawing blood. Now they barely acknowledged her presence.
Except for one.
A guard slightly older than the rest exhaled sharply when he saw her, as if already exhausted. His grip on his spear tightened.
She gave him a slow, mocking smile. Yes, poor man, I am still here.
Beyond the guards, the world opened up into a sprawling courtyard. Flowers bloomed in careful, deliberate patterns, a beauty too precise to be natural. Stone paths wove between koi ponds and carved gazebos, a paradise designed for those who would never leave.
Like me, she thought bitterly.
And yet, even within this gilded prison, there were cracks in the design. Routes the architects had not accounted for. Shadows where the watchful eyes of the palace did not linger.
Yn strolled forward, fingers brushing the soft petals of a peony, gaze flickering towards the high walls beyond.
She was learning. Observing.
Soon, she would find her way out.
The hallways were eerily empty. Most concubines were busy with their scheduled activitiesâembroidering flowers they'd never wear, practicing music for ears that rarely listened. Servants flitted by, their gazes sliding off her like she was just another ornament.
Yn moved quietly, brushing past the polished wooden pillars and delicate silk curtains that separated one lavish section from the next. Her eyes darted, not for beauty but for opportunity.
A cracked window. A loose panel. A hallway too dimly lit for prying eyes.
There has to be a way out.
But her thoughts were interrupted by a soft chattering soundâtiny, insistent meows.
Curious, Yn followed the noise, slipping past a side entrance that led to one of the quieter palace gardens. It was less manicured than the grand courtyards, more wild and forgotten. That explained the strays.
Three cats lounged under the shade of a crooked plum tree. One, a scruffy ginger with torn ears, stretched lazily. Another, sleek and black, watched her warily from a distance. But the thirdâa small gray tabby with bright, mischievous eyesâtrotted right up to her, tail high.
Yn knelt, hand outstretched. "Well, arenât you brave?"
The tabby sniffed her fingers before nudging its head against her palm, purring loudly.
A flash of green caught her eye. Close to the edge of the garden, half-hidden among the weeds, catnip grew wild and untamed. She grinned.
"Of course. Thatâs why you're so friendly."
Yn plucked a few sprigs and rubbed them between her fingers, letting the scent bloom. Within moments, the ginger stray perked up, sauntering over with a curious rumble. Even the black cat crept closer, cautious but intrigued.
Before long, she was surrounded. Cats flopped beside her, rolling and purring, content under her gentle touch.
For the first time since being dragged into this gilded prison, Yn felt something other than anger or exhaustion.
Peace.
Soft fur under her fingers. The sun warming her back. No guards. No silk-clad concubines whispering behind fans. Just her and these little survivors, thriving in the cracks of the palace's perfection.
A tabby paw batted at her sleeve, and she laughed quietly.
"Guess weâre all strays here, huh?"
But as the sun dipped lower, shadows stretching long across the ground, reality crept back in. She couldnât stay here forever.
With a reluctant sigh, Yn stood, brushing dust from her robe. The cats blinked up at her, content and drowsy.
"Don't get too comfortable," she murmured, gaze drifting toward the high walls in the distance. "Next time, Iâm not coming back."
And with that, she slipped away, the scent of catnip still clinging to her fingertips.
The sun hung lazily in the sky as Yn wandered further than she should have. The palace grounds were vast, and after her morning spent with the strays, sheâd pocketed a few sprigs of catnipâjust in case. Not like she had much else to entertain herself with.
The courtyard near the emperorâs private quarters was quieter than the rest. Too quiet. It shouldâve been her first warning.
Her second came when the stray she'd been trailingâa scrawny thing with patchy furâbolted like its tail was on fire.
Yn barely had time to register the low rumble vibrating through the air before a flash of white and black fur cut across her path.
A tiger.
Not just any tigerâHuÄng Xie, the emperorâs infamous beast.
For a moment, time froze. The tiger, muscles coiled, stood at the top of the stone steps leading to the courtyard. Its golden eyes locked onto her.
Her foot caught on an uneven tile, and she went down hard, palms scraping against the ground.
The catnip.
The crushed leaves tumbled from her pocket, releasing their sharp, minty scent into the air.
The palace guards stationed nearby froze, hands flying to their weapons. One servant shrieked and darted behind a pillar.
"She's dead," someone whispered.
Even the concubines watching from the shaded walkway stood wide-eyed, fans forgotten in their trembling hands.
Yn didnât move. Heart pounding in her ears, she slowly lifted her gaze to the tiger, now prowling toward her, each step deliberate and soundless.
Well, she thought grimly, at least it wonât be boredom that kills me.
HuÄng Xie paused a breath away from her sprawled form, nose twitching.
Then, to everyoneâs horror, the massive predator leaned downâ
âand purred.
Deep, rumbling, content. Like thunder softened by silk.
The tigerâs wide head bumped against her shoulder, almost knocking her flat again. Yn barely had time to blink before it flopped down beside her, tail flicking lazily.
One of the guards finally found his voice. "Is⊠is it broken?"
Another guard hissed, "Shut up! Do you want it to remember it's a tiger?!"
Yn, thoroughly stunned, stared at the giant feline now rolling half onto its back, head resting comfortably on her lap. The crushed catnip lay scattered around her like an offering.
"You're not very good at being a tiger, you know," she muttered, hesitantly scratching behind its ears.
HuÄng Xie purred louder, tail thumping against the stone.
m!shape-shifter!yandere x gn!reader. 4k words. yes. I'm so sorry.
TW: Obsession, possessive thoughts and behaviors, mentions of violence, gore, consumption of humans, idk how to tag it but the shape-shifter eats humans and has considered eating the reader so like heads up about that
Heeeeey
Somebody PLEASE tell me if the length of this piece is detrimental to the experience of reading it itâs like 4k words. Hereâs something Iâve been kicking around for ages. Frankly I am shocked I have something at all after a year
âOdd coupleâ is the best way to describe the friendship between you and Sasha. Youâre awkward and responsible and outwardly boring. Heâs highly social, wild, and intriguing. Youâre genuine to a fault. Heâs an expert in facades; he is a facade. Youâre human and heâs something utterly not.
The freak accident of affection between you two is...still hard for him to wrap his head around. It seems to be your fault. If you werenât so pitifully earnest toward him he would have just gotten rid of you. You were aware of his true nature, and definitely scared of it, but you kept going out of your way to be the Good Roommateâą, to play friends. He had to let you live, just to see what the fuck your deal is. Now itâs too late. Now he wants you around.
You are the only person in the world that he has shown his real body to.
Some of his victims have seen it, but youâre the first person he intended to see it. The decision was quiet, perhaps a little impulsive. A simple exchange of âWhat are you, Sasha?â and âI donât know. Wanna see?â had you both going to your bedroom and locking the door.
For the first time in his life, his heart pounded as he shed his clothes. He almost didnât want you to turn around and look. It might be better if you only knew the carefully curated version of him, the handsome appearance he painstakingly crafted for the easiest social life. Even though you already knew he wasnât human and pretended it didnât matter, what if you saw him now and knew with absolute certainty that you didnât want to look at him ever again? He would have to swallow you whole. He wasnât sure if he could do it.
Regardless he said, âturn around.â
He showed you the unvarnished form that he had inherited from his mother. To be frank: Itâs a predatorâs body. Worse that that, itâs a monsterâs. There are features and junctures of him so uncanny it must hurt the logical mind to observe them. If you were ever looking for the perfect rebuttal to the existence of a loving God, look no further than his cruel mouth.
He crept onto you bed looking like this, towering over you, your bed-frame screaming to protest the weight. Heâd have to cut you off at the source, if you were to scream. And though he could smell the fear wafting from your skin, could practically feel the constricting blood vessels and tightening muscles in you, you still asked him, âHey, is it more comfortable? Do you prefer being like this?â
Honestly? He isnât sure thereâs a body thatâs comfortable and natural to him anymore. Heâs so used to a human state that anything else feels awkward, even when itâs easier to shift to. As you took his massive claws into your hands and examined them with gentle curiosity, though, he was struck by the warmth of you. It was a long time since anyone had really touched him. It mightâve been even longer for you, loner that you are. Which meant you were the only person who could understand the way he felt in that moment.
He flopped over next to you, letting out an embarrassing dog-like whine, but you just laughed sweetly, and shifted pillows around to accommodate his bigger size. His feet and tail still dangled awkwardly off the bed. âYou can relax in here,â you said. âYouâre always welcome, since youâre my friend.â
You rambled about your classes and professors until all the adrenaline had left your system. He didnât say much in response, but you didnât mind. After a while, you could almost meet his preternatural gaze. You even dozed off like this, with a monster beside you, you utter weirdo. He put his head closer to your chest and felt your sleeping breaths for hours, thinking that your throat would be butter-soft under his teeth.
Sasha knows very little about what he really wants. Heâs not sure if heâll stay in his major, or in school, or even in human society. He knows for certain, though, that he wants more time to study you. He wants just your quiet voice and humble body heat and the understanding that, whatever he is, it isnât going to chase you away.
So you two keep doing this. Every few days heâll skulk over to where you are and make room for himself, and the two of you will talk for hours. Sometimes he shifts. He doesnât always want to, but you get more comfortable with him that way. You...seem more keen to pet him when he looks and acts like an animal, and he wants you to touch him so bad heâs worried heâll start asking for it. Could he ever live it down, if he started asking to be coddled? No. So he wags his tail and butts his head against you like that isnât itâs own special brand of pathetic.
Itâs not like youâre one to judge, though. Youâre just so happy to have a friend that comes to hang out with you. Youâve never had very many of those, but of course Sasha knows heâs extra special. Thereâs much heâs learned about the world from his strange perspective, and youâre always excited to listen to his stories.
You do understand that he needs to eat a lot. You see him clear out four bacon cheeseburgers as a snack once, and he cracks jokes about how breakfast was red bull and adderall, but you know that itâs just a part of his biology that works against him. So you go out of your way to cook more meat, and give him bigger portions than anyone else, ignoring the way your blatant favoritism must look to the other roommates and occasional visitors. He doesnât bother explaining that your idea of a big meal is like his idea of an appetizer, and he never will.
He doesnât talk about the people he eats, either. Heâs starting to think you donât realize he does that.
(If you really donât know, if this is the way you treat him when you donât know, thereâs no fucking way he can tell you.)
As for you, you talk about your courses and your classmates. From the way you talk around it, heâs mostly figured out the sad shape of your childhood and he decides thatâs why youâre so weird and naive.
Mostly, you tell him about your hobbies, and your taste in TV shows. Thatâs when something in you is unlocked, revealing you to be more witty and giggly than your initial impression. Itâs gratifying to know most other people donât discover that side of you, like being the only prospector who knows where gold is. You tell him about everything you used to watch and play with your best friend, back when she had time for you. Heâs a little confused by just how fervently you love things, how you start to care one day and then never, ever stop.
He never did it before, but now the two of you watch garbage TV together. (You tried to invite your best friend to join you, but to Sashaâs satisfaction, she gave you that cringing sort of smile and told you she didnât have time.) Every Friday comes a new episode of Crater County, this schlocky supernatural police procedural, so every Thursday night you ask him to watch it with you. Heâs a busy man, of course, but heâll fit it into his schedule since he knows you so look forward to it.
This Thursday you must have forgot.
Somehow, in the early morning on Friday, you slip away without Sasha noticing. He wakes up to the honks of geese and distant cars, and the ever-present hum of electricity. As he thinks of pestering you to make ham and eggs, just to watch you get annoyed, he notices the conspicuous lack of your heartbeat.
He knows better than to doubt his hearing. But he still goes into your room across the hall to find the bed unmade and unoccupied. He almost goes to check your pillow for warmth, only stopping when he realizes itâs...stupid, to do that. He stays in the doorway for a long moment, overly-conscious of your scent. Then he goes to pace in the empty kitchen.
It hadnât occurred to you to say goodbye to him, or leave him a portion of breakfast as you usually do, so you must have been in a hurry. Distantly, he remembers your fast food job. You probably got called to cover for someone at the last minute. Even so, shouldnât you have said something to him? So that he wouldnât wonder? Because heâsâ
âwell, you called him your friend.
It bothers him the more he thinks about it, while he showers and gets coffee and goes to class. The two of you havenât talked since Monday and it feels weird. You always tell him when youâre going out, so what happened? Where can he even find you?
Not that he would need to find you. Sasha isnât clingy. Clingy is his ex making alt account after alt account to pester him on instagram with stupid questions like, âare you seriously trying to ghost me you asshole?â And Sasha isnât doing that. He hasnât even texted you yet, because you havenât texted him, and you always text first. If you donât go through with the trouble of asking for him, he absolutely will not bother coming.
You havenât sent so much as a âhey!â in the last seventeen times that heâs checked, so. Guess you guys arenât hanging out. Whatever. Itâs not like he doesnât have stuff to do. Heâs behind on several classes, a habitual skipper, and there are four other people begging him to come out tonight. He hasnât hunted in a while so he should probably do that too.
He should go and talk to other humans, re-acquire their speech patterns and body language. He should catch himself when he makes gestures you would make, stop himself from making them. Thatâs why he goes to lunch with a friend group he met last month, and fits in with them seamlesslyâor, almost seamlessly. No one can say he isnât a good talker, slick as oil and quick with comebacks, but heâs a little more sensitive than usual today. While heâs in the middle of charming them he slips up and says something you would say.
âIsnât that a Crater County reference you just made?â One girl says to him, stopping the conversation cold. âI thought you hated nerdy stuff like that.â
Sasha laughs shortly. âWhat? Says who?â
âSays you. You laughed at someoneâs Supernatural tattoo at the party, remember?â
âIt was a fucking horrendous tattoo. And I donât like Crater Country or whatever, either, I just know some lines because my,â his throat feels like a desert, but he continues, âmy roommate is obsessed with that shit.â
They brush over that thought soon enough, shifting focus to upcoming concerts, but Sasha canât get comfortable again. He feels like he forgot how eyes work, and his are going to slip and turn reptilian in the middle of this well-populated restaurant. Heâs scared his hands are going to morph into paws. In the end, he excuses himself before he can finish his meal.
Since heâs still quite hungry, Sasha decides heâll drop by the butcher and get a few pounds of beef chuck to tide him over until dark. Heâll go to that fancy shop with all the grass-fed cruelty-free organic stuff, because heâs passionate about the well-fare of livestock, and definitely not because itâs just down the street from your job.
But since heâs there, anyway, heâll pass by and peek through the windows to see whatâs happening there.
Your restaurant is packed. A sports team, or special event or something, has filled every table in sight, and more people queue up at the register. Youâre boxing fries and passing them over to waiting customersâ trays. Even though youâve got mountains of food to work through, youâre smiling. It takes only a few seconds to find out why, following the arc of your eye up to a man in the same uniform as you.
The guy is tall and average-looking, and he keeps leaning toward you to talk like he doesnât know how to speak loudly even though he works in a goddamn kitchen. Sasha doesnât know him by face, or by word of mouth, since youâve never told him about a co-worker that can make you giggle so much.
Why hadnât you told Sasha about the funniest man of the century, huh?
More importantly, why hadnât you noticed the way this asshole was looking at you? Staring so intently, exaggerating his expressions, mirroring you. All the same tricks Sasha has used before but with none of the grace, and yet somehow you liked it from this guy when Sasha had seemed scary to you.
He just canât understand. That wouldnât be such a problem if he hadnât believed that he did understand you, and the way your mind worked. You had said Sasha was your friend and you had sat in the truth with him, relieved to see him for what he truly was, and you had been asking after his health and his happiness, wasting nights with him, cooking for him, cuddling up with him, and now here you were forgetting about his existence with another friend that he didnât know about.
Sasha has been cheated on by a partner in the past. They left him one night and came back in the wee hours smelling like a fresh shower, with traces of someone elseâs odor still clinging to them. It hadnât felt like anything, to know that they were sneaking behind his back. Not a betrayal, no sting or ache in the heart he supposedly had. He broke up with them a week after, and that, like all his other breakups, was simply annoying. Sasha had always felt like he wasnât with any of the people he was with. He was watching them, and touching them, and living among them, but there was some kind of invisible barrier between him and all the world. So when they broke a connection, well, what was there to even break? How could he care?
And why did being cheated on come to mind when he saw you happy with some other guy?
Sasha would later find out that you pulled a twelve hour shift that day, and, pushover that you were, you didnât take a break long enough to check your phone. But he doesnât stay to watch you, he really couldnât. A pit had formed in his stomach, some void, some black hole that he had to attend to.
He leaves you there in your job and your apparent fun, none the wiser, and goes to the butcher. He gets himself a rack of ribs, and a few pounds of steak, and a heart just because the shop had one on hand and they were happy to serve a customer with such deep pockets as him. He gets a couple of cheeseburgers for the ride home and finishes them in a few bites.
As soon as he knows your other roommates arenât home, he tears into the paper packaging of the prepared meats and gorges himself over the kitchen sink, soiling his shirt with myoglobin. It all tastes like ash, disappearing into him the way so many things do. When heâs done, when every last shred of flesh and sliver of bone has been swallowed, his stomach growls.
Heâs always been this empty. Maybe that was the thing you saw that made you so afraid upon first meeting himâthe bottomless trench that he actually was.
You said he was your friend. You knew what he was and didnât back away. But you have so little else in your life. If you gained anything more, real friends, real family, a lover, wouldnât someone as hollow and alien as Sasha be easily discarded?
Thereâs nothing for it. He has to go and hunt now.
Your co-worker is pitifully easy to discover. By checking the likes on your posts, he finds the creep has been hounding you for three weeks now. His unmitigated social media addiction leaves the entirety of his existence splatter across the internet. Sasha learns and forgets his name. He knows exactly what place heâll be at tonight, with whom, for how long. He shifts to look exactly like you, heads out and stops at the right street corner with a bulky gym bag, waiting.
Itâs so easy. Sasha can play You, but this guy hardly deserves all that effort. Itâs enough to show up magically with your face, even if your clothes and piercings seem out of place. All Sasha has to do is bat lashes and flash a smile that he has already memorizedâyour stupid sincere grin that had made you, like the sun, difficult to look at directlyâand this idiot thinks the person in front of him is really you, out on the same night by coincidence. Heâs happy to see you, and happier still that you want to go somewhere together. He lets Sasha take him by the hand, convinced that the two of you are going out for drinks through innocuously empty backstreets. It doesnât strike him as weird that youâre so energetic and flirty all of a sudden. Asshole.
He at least has the decency to carry the bag, no doubt hoping to come off as a gentleman.
âWhy a duffel bag, anyway?â He marvels.
âTo change clothes before I go home, silly,â Sasha tells him, leading him further into the night.
It turns out the co-worker is deeply uncomfortable with silence. He cracks jokes that arenât funny, to which Sasha politely chuckles for what is only ten minutes but feels like an hour.
âWhen you kept turning me down,â he says, predictably, âI was worried you had a boyfriend or something.â
âWhy would I not tell you if I had a boyfriend?â Sasha croons in your voice, fighting with all his will-power to not crush your co-workerâs hand. Theyâre finally on a quiet street, between two condemned houses, where there are no cameras and no pedestrians.
âHaha, I donât know. Youâre like, really private. That roommate you talk about all the time? The one going to the same school? I honestly feel like I know more about her than I know about you.â
âYou mean, âhimâ? Sasha?â Sasha blinks owlishly with your eyes, his heart melting a little when he imagines you gushing about him to other people.
The guy laughs nervously. âNo, I mean Maya. Is Sasha another roommate? Have you mentioned her before?â
Really. Maya. That âbest friendâ who basically pretends you donât exist, who takes up valuable real estate in your mind when some people who have spent months getting to know you donât even get a text.
Sasha gives up on looking friendly.
Your co-worker has finally sensed something is off, wincing as he tugs his hand out of Sashaâs vice-grip. Stretching out his fingers, he asks, âHey, how much farther âtil we get there? I swear weâve passed like, three bars already...â
He doesnât get to say more because Sasha lets out his teeth and goes for the throat.
It must be said that a warm meal always beats a cold one, but other that that itâs a shitty fare, gristly and lacking in flavor. This guyâs blood, fresh from the veins, is flat and forgettable. Even the marrow of his bones disappoints. At least he didnât put up a fight...though maybe some enrichment could have saved this boring dinner.
Sasha feels more bloated than full when itâs all over. He wipes down and changes into fresh clothes, stuffing all the bloody garments into the duffel bag. He still feels kinda gross, and considers a long, hot shower while picking muscle fibers from between his teeth.
Are you going to worry about your co-worker? Are you going to miss him? Will you cry if they identify his blood on clothes found in the dump? Will you even tell Sasha why youâre crying?
Sasha snaps out of his deep thoughts when his phone buzzes. The text from you reads:
hey! i forgot to ask, are you on for crater county tonight?
What the fuck. Renewed frustration flushes through his system. What is he, your backup plan? He has a lifeâactually, many more lives than you! You should know better than to screw around with his time. He shouldnât even dignify your bullshit with a response, but he does anywayâ
At a party
And your answer is,
oh ok
weâll watch it some other time
have fun!
âŠ
Stay safe ok! Call me if you need something
Itâs such a low blow he has to wonder if youâre doing it on purpose: youâre telling him all the same things heâs heard you tell Maya when she blows you off. He can hear the disappointment and embarrassment in your voice, the way you assure her of your eternal affection and concern while she practically dismisses you. Once heâs imagining your face, then, all he wants in the world is to look at it.
Heâs a good runner. Heâs barely out of breath when he arrives home, tossing aside his sweaty hoodie and kicking off his shoes while he quietly closes the door behind him. The dishwasher is running. He can just make out the low moan of the central air system, and one lazy heart thumping in the living room.
For a moment you donât notice that Sasha is there. He gets to watch you quietly. Youâre languishing on the couch in your bedclothes, staring blankly at the No Signal screen on the TV with a bowl of popcorn untouched on the coffee table. It surprises him. He hasnât seen you with an expression this dull in a while.
But it disappears in an instant.
âSasha!â You bolt upright, your face brightening like the sky at dawn when you find him standing in the doorway. âDid the party end already?â
He doesnât know what to say.
You glance back at the TV. âUm, I swear I wasnât going to watch without you! I was justâŠâ
âWere you waiting for me?â He asks.
Your expression flickers, betraying the anxiety in your eyes before you have the chance to look away. Why did he even bother to ask? Youâre here for him, like a puppy waiting for their owner, and suddenly heâs flushed and queasyâno, itâs not sickness that he feels, itâs butterflies. Heâs so delighted he feels dumb, all of his frustration and embarrassing angst vanishing in an instant because all he can think of is how sweet you are.
âAh,â he laughs dryly. âIâm screwed.â
Before you even know to cry out, heâs thrown himself at you, arms coiling around your waist. The two of you fall back on the couch.
When you get your bearings, you scold him. âSasha, donât just do that! You scared me!â
He mumbles, âI had a bad day.â
â...you did?â Your left hand cups his head, almost protectively, and your right strokes his back. âWhat happened? Youâre not hurt, right? Are you hungry? I have some stuff in the fridgeââ
âCan we just stay like this?â He asks.
âU-um. Well...â You must be thinking of your other roommates, who could walk in on this scene and âmisunderstandâ the relationship you have with him. You donât want to cause weird rumors or tension. But he wants you so much he canât pretend to be above it anymore. He squeezes you just a little bit, betraying his own desperation, so you say tenderly, âOf course we can.â
Itâs scary to be honest. Sasha considers it contrary to his nature. However, he has never in his life avoided adapting or transforming to get what he wants. If he has to bare himself again to endear himself to you, heâll do it.
âYouâre the best friend I have,â he admits, âand I didnât see you all day, and I missed you.â
Your heart quickens. âSashaâŠâ
âI know Iâm being clingy. I just canât help it. Say you missed me too. Say I matter to you.â
âI did miss you,â you murmur, your smile bleeding into your voice. You pull him closer. âIt feels wrong when we donât talk all day. And I worry about you, you know. I never see you make a proper meal.â
âI like it better when you make it. So keep cooking for me. Please.â
âI was going to do that anyway,â you say.
His whole body thrums with satisfaction. You care about him so much he can feel it all the way through. Heâs soaking up your warmth and savoring your smell, face pressed into your neck. Twisting his hands into your shirt, he finds that he resents your clothes. He even resents your flesh and bones for barring direct access to your heart. Right now, though, heâs almost content with a body in his grasp, a pulse fluttering under his lips.
Yandere sheep who is the main healer at the village he resides in and takes care of all injuries such as cuts, sickness, and attacks from vile predators.
So it was no surprise how he immediately went over to check unconscious body he found near the village. He expected it to be a hybrid, but was surprised to see that it was..
A human?
While the village wasnât so secluded that it wouldnât be found by predators, it was secluded enough that humans wouldnât know that it existed let alone find it.
So how did you⊠no, it doesnât matter.
Yandere sheep who picked you up and rushed back to his house. Your injuries werenât life threatening, a gash on your arm and a swollen ankle, but it would be better to treat that gash as soon as possible so that it doesnât get infected.
He could feel the stares of his neighbors and hear their curious voices as they see him holding the injured body of a human, yet he paid no mind to them as he opened the door to his house.
Yandere sheep who begins attending to your wound after he places you on the spare bed he has. His gaze stayed on you as he wrapped a bandage around your arm.
When he was finished with your arm, he gently placed the ice pack he had prepared on your swollen ankle. His touch lingered on you for a couple of seconds before focusing his attention on adjusting the covers of the bed and covering you with it.
His work here was done he thought.
Now he just has to wait until you wake up.
Yandere sheep who prepared a nice and nutritious breakfast for you the next day, that is if you regained consciousness. And you did.
Yandere sheep who thinks you look so cute when you sat up and groggily looked around, unaware of your whereabouts. He only smiles when your eyes widen and the drowsiness slowly fades away from you and panic fills your eyes.
âIâm glad to see that you are awakeâ his voice softened when he saw your distressed face.
âThere is no need to be afraid. I found you in the woods unconscious and only brought you here to make sure that your injuries are properly treated.â he reassured. His tail wagged a bit when he saw your face visibly relax at his words.
Wait tail?
You did a double take and took note of his appearance. He mostly looked human but he had curved horns that came out of his head, fluffy ears, and a tail..
âI take it that itâs your first time seeing a hybrid?â he questioned as you stared at him in awe.
âDonât worry, I donât bite.â He chuckled as he placed the tray of food he held onto your lap.
It looked delicious thatâs for sure but you felt a bit skeptical. You hesitatantly grabbed the fork that he provided and picked up a small portion and ate it. Your eyes widened at the taste, it was really good.
He stared at you, his smile gleaming slightly though something about his gaze made you feel uneasy. You pretended to not notice the way he stared intensely at you as you ate the food.
â
A few days later you found yourself talking to him most of the time while you recovered.
You learned that his name was Ambrose, and that he was abandoned by his flock at a very young age and had to learn how to fend for himself. Then one day he stumbled upon the village and the residents welcomed him with open arms. As a way to repay them he vowed to help them in any way possible.
He, in return learned about your life, how you live in a city and work at a boring office job and for the first time in years you were given a few days off.
âI see⊠so the first thing you decided to do was go to a forest..?â He laughed.
âWell yes⊠I just wanted to relax somewhere that wasnât the city and it sounded like a good idea at the time..â you sheepishly answered.
âNot the brightest idea..â he said while changing the ice pack on your ankle. His hands were smooth and gentle.
âI am a bit curious though, just how did you end up so deep in the forest? Do you remember anything?â
ââŠno I donât remember anything..â you murmured, your hands grasping the sheets.
âWell⊠itâs a good thing I found you, if not then who knows what wouldâve happened.â He hummed, a faint smile on his face.
A shiver went down your spine.
â
Ambrose didnât know what he was feeling. Every time he was changing your bandages or just chatting with you made him feel at ease. You made him feel something new, something he couldnât quite place his finger on.
When he first started taking care of you, his dear neighbors were skeptical of you. They had never seen a human before therefore they werenât sure if you were dangerous or not. Though Ambrose managed to convince them that no, you werenât dangerous. They soon started warming up to you, some even brought sweets for you while others wondered if you were healing well.
Ambrose was sure that they liked you enough to let you stay.
So when you told him that you wanted to leave two weeks later he didnât know what to say. What do you mean youâre ready to go back to your boring life?
His smile wavered a bit and his eyes narrowed as you kept on talking about going back home since your ankle and wound had healed but needed his help with guiding you through the forest.
The village is your home.
âVery well.. I will help you.â He forced a smile.
âWe will go tomorrow, it is far too dark outside to go out today, who knows what kind of predators lurk in the night..â he paused.
âIn the meantime, would you like some tea?â
You happily agreed.
An hour had passed when all of a sudden you felt tired.
Ambrose only grinned as he saw the effects take place. What you didnât know was that the tea was laced with a sleeping pill, something he had just incase.
You held onto the edge of the table and glanced at Ambrose who slowly stood up from his chair. However what you saw wasnât him, he no longer had his horns or his sheep ears, instead there were perked ears on top of his head. A clawed hand reached out to you and that was when you passed out.
âOh little lamb..â Ambrose sighed, catching you as you fell limp.
âItâs far too dangerous for you to leave..â His clawed hand gently touched your cheek.
âYou could easily get hurt again, or worse.â he picked up your limp body bridal style and stared at your sleeping face.
âYouâll be safe here.â
Yandere wolf who is convinced that you need to stay with him. If it werenât for him, you wouldâve been food for the few predators that live in the forest he forgets that he is one too.
He just wants whatâs best for his mate.
This is basically the wolf in sheepâs clothing trope lol. if anyone is confused on why he has a tail itâs because sheep have tails too! But most of the time their docked.
