Yandere blog for Yandere connoisseurs. Requests are open, but I only answer ones that amuse me and it takes a while because I'm pretty busy.
Writing Commissions OPEN, just DM. 23
How goes life? Anything exciting planned for the summer?
What would the yans do if they discovered darling broke her toe awhile ago and has just been ignoring/hiding it? If confronted she points out not much can really be done for it anyways so it doesn't matter.
Hope your day is going well!
Haha I start med school on Monday, does that count?
They're for sure not happy with you. At the core, they feel betrayed for you not telling/trusting them.
Atalanta shoots that shit down right now. Yes, you're right that they can't put your broken toe in a cast, but that doesn't mean there's nothing they can do. You shouldn't be walking on that foot, you need rest. She could have gotten you painkillers, good ones. She could have gotten a doctor to look at it. What if it's worse than you thought and you need surgery? Ata brings all this up in the extremely long lecture she gives you, and to top it off, you're confined to the apartment for two weeks. Until she is certain you're on the mend.
Noelle is not happy you didn't tell her, and she's even more upset at herself for not noticing. This is awful for her. This feels like a breach in the relationship, on both sides. Not only are you confined to the apartment, but you're now confined to the bed. Noelle does not want you to even move until it's healed, and she might even employ some sedatives to keep you there. You are supposed to tell her everything. This cannot happen again.
Vivien is so, so sorry you're in pain. He could have helped! He could easily have made up some pain-relieving salves with menthol or arnica. As a matter of fact, he'll do that right now! He'll throw a tantrum until you allow him to apply it thrice a day. He'll bring ibuprofen too, it's best to use both pharmaceutical and herbal remedies to relieve pain. Please, please don't ever do this again. The thought of you suffering in silence makes him physically sick.
I went outside for 2 minutes to take out the trash and the wildfire smoke was really bad. It sent me into a asthma attack with symptoms of hypoxia and like my throat was rubbed down with sand paper. So I just imagine the yans coming home and im just sitting in the apartment struggling to breathe so bad I can't have a panic attack. Sorry my inhaler isn't working so im kinda dying over here please don't freak out.
Are you good?? Wildfire??
First of all, all 3 of them have extra inhalors on hand in case of this.
Atalanta immediately calls the doctor and has them rushed over to the apartment. In the meantime, she makes you sit up and practice special breathing techniques. She is not hysterical but is clearly worried.
Noelle rushes to get you sitting up properly and she makes you drink some coffee. Sometimes a hot caffeinated drink can dilate your airways. She calls both Ata and emergency services. She is incredibly worried but seems outwardly calm for your sake.
Vivien carries you into the bathroom to breathe in some steam. He is actively on the phone with emergency services begging for advice. He can barely breathe himself with his sobs
What about a darling who loves playing high intensity contact sports? Nothing extreme, but things like box lacrosse where you're hitting each other with metal sticks for fun. Or hockey where people get taken out sometimes. Because personally that is a hard line. Like. I will fight for those. You can pry them out of the cold dead hands I probably would have without them. I will proudly show off bruises and marks from getting slashed (honestly I rarely really bruise so that contributes, but showing off bad or interesting looking bruises is pretty common). Ankle injury? Wrap it and go. Low on players? Time for Suffering (you gotta learn to embrace and enjoy the suck). But yeah. I can see a hobby that includes some level of physical violence to be hard for some of them to accept. Even if it is 100% a hill I would die on. To be fair the gear does make it so legal hits rarely hurt
Love your writing and appreciate you sharing your brain creations with us all.
Okay I think Vivien would respond really respond well to this. He's pretty rough and tumble, so it would make sense for you to be too. He doesn't like you getting hurt, but he will marvel at your bruises like the badges of honor they are. He will ALWAYS be in the front row going ham cheering for you. He will be a fully supportive partner as long as you let him tend to you afterwards. He'll bandage your wounds and wrap your bruises with his special healing ointment.
Atalanta also doesn't like to see you getting hurt, but she does like competition. Remember she played field hockey when she was in boarding school; She was constantly getting injuries, but she is also intimately familiar with the rush of winning, the feeling of needing to beat an opponent at all costs, the dedication required to train your body. Ata will let you play. She gets you the best gear, happily sits to watch you, and prays constantly for your safety. Out of goodwill, she won't even scold your opponents, even if they bruise your precious flesh. She is going to be so normal about it. Because it's important to you.
Noelle doesn't like it. She didn't play any sports in school (no money for it) so she doesn't really understand the joy of teamwork and friendly competition like that. To her, this is just a way to endanger yourself, and she won't allow it. A silly game is not worth your safety, and she won't risk it. Noelle forbids you from your game, and she's really not sorry about it.
Darling who is unable to switch meds but is dealing with side effects that can be inconvenient. Darling doesn't feel hunger, or any interest in food, and cant eat much in one sitting because of meds. So they forget to eat a lot, like days at a time and it leads to low blood sugar side effects. Severe confusion, disorientation, memory problems, weakness, dizziness, severe shaking and trembling, brain fog, and sometimes passes out randomly. The yans don't know about this issue until darling faints
They're not happy. Not necessarily upset with you, just with the situation in general.
Atalanta takes "unable to switch meds" as a personal challenge. When it comes to you, money is no object, so she invests in a team of doctors to use your distinct genetic makeup to make you your own medication. Enjoy your new personalized pills! They successfully stop your condition while minimizing the side effects. You are being disciplined for not communicating with her, though, especially because you let it get to the point of jeopardizing your health. Enjoy a temporary reduction on your allowance and some mandatory time inside.
Vivien is truly scared to fucking death when you pass out on him. He had noticed your worsening symptoms, but you assured him time and time again that you were fine. Well, you're not fine. Vivien wishes you could change your meds, but he understands you can't. He insists you must eat. He will cook whatever you want whenever you want, and he is not above using his tears to guilt you into eating. In addition, now Vivien keeps a ready-made mocktail pitcher for you at all times. A quick fix of fruit juice can raise blood sugar. He does not want to see you pass out again.
Bold of you to assume that Noelle doesn't know exactly what's going on with you. Honestly, she's a bit upset you haven't discussed this with her. You passing out is the final straw. It's Noelle's business now. You now have scheduled mealtimes. Noelle works hard to meal prep small, managable meals for you, and you are required to eat them and send her before and after pictures if she's ever not directly supervising you. Noelle also keeps even more of an eye on you through the cameras now, calling you every time you even stumble.
Noelle with a darling who struggles with agoraphobia. Darling wants to actually deal with it but also its a constant fight just to leave the apartment. Darling also has about 6 different anxiety disorders and is trying to live life and doesn't want to make Noelle stuck inside with them, and thus is trying to fight them. Its very difficult and darling is often frustrated with themselves for it. But knowing what Noelle wants for her partner its feels like a more complicated situation for both.
Noelle: Oh no, my lobster's too buttery and my steak too juicy.
Most people with agoraphobia aren't really afraid of individual people or open spaces; they're more afraid of the possibility of what could happen if escape were impossible or help weren't guaranteed. Noelle would simply fix that.
First of all, Noelle prefers you in the house anyway. She almost agrees with you that it's safer there. You don't have to leave unless you want to. Any appointments you have, Noelle will simply have them come to see you at the apartment or at Montclair Industries. If they really, really need specialized equipment, Noelle will arrange for the minimum number of people there, you will be apprised of all the exits and safety plans, and she will accompany you.
You will always have guards accompanying you with your safety entirely in mind. Anything you might need for entertainment or enrichment is brought to you, or you are carefully transported to a private venue (acquired by Noelle via Ata) so you can feel safe. You really can live your whole life safely inside with Noelle taking care of you.
Same rules apply if you're traveling with Noelle. She gets you a gorgeous hotel room to stay in, and you both can explore the city privately, seeing only what interests you. You never have to interact with crowds or unfamiliar people; Noelle will always take care of it. Noelle will even schedule a private evening museum tour if there's a single painting you want to see. It's all about making you feel safe.
Noelle doesn't mind staying inside. She really only leaves for work and nothing else. She is more than happy to stay inside with you forever. She's certainly got the funds for her eccentric lover. Noelle will also get you some therapy and medication. She doesn't like the thought of your own mind hurting you. You don't have to go out of your comfort zone unless you don't want to, but she does want you to feel comfortable and happy with your life with her.
I feel ata will be very upset bc I have bad haphephobia and as such deeply struggle with touching anyone. Like its been well over 10 years since I've had more then necessity medical stuff. So im both extremely touch starved but also even a handshake causes severe anxiety. Add in exstreme sensitivity to touch bc its been so long and ata would be up the wall bc if she holds me ill have a panic attack. I can probably get use her after long time of exposure and gentle but any bad will ruin that
Hm... I could potentially see this going well with Atalanta, provided you communicated it to her. If you're a perfectly sweet and loving Darling outside of this, speaking with her, letting her care for you and spoil you, and making an effort, I think it could go well.
Atalanta adores you, and she is so sorry to hear of your phobia. She does want to get to the point where you and she will be able to embrace each other as lovers, but she understands how that would be difficult for you.
First things first, you're going to need some therapy. Some medication will help tame your panic symptoms, and some cognitive behavioral therapy will help you delve into the root of this phobia. Ata also wants you to embark on an exposure therapy regimen with your therapist. She will come to therapy when bid because her primary goal is get to the point where she can hug you.
Hmm... maybe you can wear constant gloves like Elsa? Ata is hoping for any solutions that will get you to the point where she can hold you.
As long as you're a perfect Darling and you show you're clearly trying, Atalanta can be a very patient yandere and can potentially wait years before consummating your relationship.
Mother Miranda decrees that the state of the most fragile of her lords, Donna Beneviento, has deteriorated far too much.
She appoints a carefully-picked girl to care for her.
āChicken cutlets,ā Angie said resolutely, hovering in the air as she practiced kicks and punches against an imaginary foe. She narrowly missed Donnaās head as she floated by, āYou make the best chicken cutlets, and you havenāt made them recently at all.ā
Donna blushed underneath her veil, once again buoyed by the compliment from her beloved doll.
Narcissist.
Donna ignored the pesky thought as she gathered the ingredients. One by one, she set the ingredients on the tabletop. Chicken broth. Mushrooms. Onions. Garlic. Butter. Chicken breast. Parmesan cheese. Olive oil. Salt and pepper. Arborio rice. Thankfully, everything was identifiable by touch alone. It was hard enough to cook while wearing her veil, but Donna wasnāt taking any chances anymore. Not with that girl upstairs.
It had been the shock of a lifetime when that girl barreled through the door, slipping on the hallway rug and banging her head on the floor on the way down. Donna had been in the library with Angie, fingers tracing over books she hadnāt read in years. When was the last time Donna had simply made a cup of tea and sat down to read, or put on a film in her study? When had her life become so insular and small, moving between the workshop and the lab, finishing commissions and bending to Mother Mirandaās endless demands for results? When was the last time something trulyĀ differentĀ happened?
Then that girl barged into her life. That honest, earnest, try-hard of a girl who scrubbed the floors like it was her calling and accepted Angie in all her perfect weirdness with all the patience of a doting mater. At the unnerving sound of Laisās slight body hitting the ground, both Donna and Angie ran to her. Donna wasnāt heartless. As disquieted as she was by the girl, she was still going to help her up. The hallway rug was endlessly fond of tripping innocent passerbys; Donna had fallen several times herself.
But when the girl wasnāt moving, Donnaās blood ran cold. She could feel the familiar dread curling in her stomach, the routine haziness at the edges of her vision signaling a tenuous hold on her mental state and emotions. The girl was dead, she just knew it. Donna Benevientoās curse had struck again, killing another innocent person who had the misfortune of getting close to her. Donna had hidden herself away, tried to tamp down her desperate yearning for love and companionship and human affection in a falsely noble attempt to save others from her wretched self and spare her hands any more blood.
Murderer.
Her quick internal musings were interrupted by a swift kick in the side from Angie. Angie was saying something, was screaming both her name and the girlās, tugging Donna towards the prone body in the foyer. Donna lifted her hand to Laisās neck, expecting the worst, expecting waxy skin cooling as the heat of life left it. But Lais wasnāt dead. Her heartbeat, while unnervingly fast, was strong and healthy. She wasnāt anywhere near death.
There was still time. It wasnāt over.
Lais mumbled something about eggs, eggs that Donna had honestly forgotten about. Instinctually, Donna cupped her face, whispering to the girl to hush, to not worry about it. The eggs were immaterial, and whatever was wrong, Donna could fix it. As long as the girl stayed at Beneviento manor, stayed healthy and hale and ignorant of the horrors that shared the bedroom next door, Donna could bear it.
Donna wasnāt sure what she was looking at at first. Laisās unconscious body, dragged upstairs to bed and stripped of everything above the waist (Donna tried her best to preserve the girlās modesty, but she blushed like a berry when Angie thoughtfully proclaimed that Lais had a ānice set of them on herā). The phone rang after that, and the embarrassing little doll was banished to the study to answer it.
Laisās back was covered in scars, most old, but a few were split open and weeping blood. The wounds were thin lines crisscrossing over the skin awkwardly, painting the girlās coffee colored skin with red streaks. It looked awful. For a second, Donna thought it might have been the work of a very careful Lycan, but that thought was quickly discarded. Lycans were never careful, and they never left such shallow, non-fatal wounds. These had to be the work of something, or someone, else.
Thankfully, there were thousands of available specimens in her lab to work with, and even a few pre-mixed batches of healing salve sitting gathering dust on the shelf. Leaving Angie in charge of the patient, Donna carefully opened a jar. The smooth, waxy, vaguely chartreuse colored ointment smelled a bitā¦ off, and a few circles of fuzzy green mold took up space in the center of the container. Unfortunate, but not exactly unexpected. Donna wasnāt called to offer herbal assistance to Mother Mirandaās research specimens often, and to her adopted siblings even less. Who knew the last time this batch had been used? The next jar looked and smelled a lot better; Donna grabbed it and hurried back upstairs.
Lais, surely in pain, squirmed in her sleep as Donna applied a thorough coating of healing salve on her wounds, but mercifully, she stayed asleep. Donna smiled as the girl mumbled in her sleep. She was actually a rather pleasant patient. Bar the unexpected and unbearable visit from Mother Miranda (Donna just couldnāt think about that right now, if she thought about it, she would take to the bed for another week and then where would that leave Lais), Donna didnāt mind looking after Lais. The girl- Lais, Donna would have to remember to actually use her name- followed orders, never complained, and was grateful for whatever she was given. Her little comment about enjoying Donnaās cooking silenced those pesky voices for an entire day.
So Donna didnāt mind looking after her weird little interloper. Until she was healthy again, at least. Then it was all back to normal.
āRight.ā Donna ruffled the little dollās choppy blond hair, āNow add the chicken before the mushrooms brown too much. And grab the white wine.ā
Donna and Angie worked in their own sort of silence, quietly making the risotto. There wasnāt really a need for speaking, not with their connection. In her mind, Donna could always feel the little dollās presence, could feel Angie almost as an extension of herself. She could even pick out individual thoughts if she focused. Here, with them both cooking, both filled with feelings of love and serenity and industry, Donna could almost feel happy.
Enjoy it for now, murderer.
āDon-Don, have you noticed the bread?ā Angie bounded over with a bundle of fresh herbs in one arm and the mezzaluna in the other.
āWhat about it?ā Donna asked absently, carefully folding the cheese into the layers of fluffy rice.
āItās still there.ā
āShould it not be?ā
Angie heaved herself onto a stool, rocking the mezzaluna back and forth to cut the parsley on the cutting board, āWe should have had to buy some more than usual, right? Since the girl was with us. You told her she could use it for lunch, right?ā
āOf course I did.ā Had she? Donna wasnāt 100% sure. But she had to have, right? And even if she didnāt, surely the girl, surelyĀ LaisĀ knew Donna wouldnāt punish her severely over a sandwich once a day. Right? āIāll ask her.ā
Donna carefully sprinkled the parsley over the bowl, and then it was done. A gorgeous bowl of mushroom and chicken risotto. Luxurious, creamy, umami flavors with enough bulk and heft to make you want to curl up and sleep. Perfect for a convalescent.
A soft bump sounded from upstairs, and Donna smiled (smiled? That was unexpected), turning to Angie, āSheās up. Run along ahead and tell her to get ready for lunch.ā
āIām on it, Don-Don!ā Angie gave an adorably serious salute and bounded up the stairs, apparently forgetting she could float.
Donna arranged the bowl of risotto on a tray along with some silverware, a glass of water, and a few leftover cinnamon cookies for dessert. Nervously, she smoothed her shirt and adjusted her veil. Why was she so nervous just to take dinner to her new maid? Donna wasnāt sure why the thought of Lais made her cheeks warm, made her want to both shy away and reach closer-
āDon!ā Angie screeched from upstairs, āDon, sheās not in be-ā
Donna startled, nearly knocking the tray on the counter in front of her over. Without thinking, she left the tray with the still-cooling risotto right there on the counter and rushed upstairs. Angieās voice had been suddenly muffled, as though something was covering her mouth. Was she bound? Gagged? Donna didnāt feel any fear through their bond, only surprise and mild irritation. This only panicked Donna more. Was something wrong with the bond? Donna tripped on her long, elegant skirts, scrabbling up the last few stairs.
The first door on the right, Laisās room. Donna burst through the door, landing on her knees. Her vision was partly obscured by her veil as it always was, but she knew enough to tell that the room was empty, the bed made, the objects on the nightstand tidy, and the floor clean. Donna, stricken, pulled back and ran to the next door down the hallway, the bathroom door.Ā
There, on the wet tiled floor, was Lais, clad in her faded blouse and skirt, the long hem tucked up into her waistband to prevent it dragging on the floor, hands covering Angieās mouth as she tried to wrestle the thrashing doll into submission.
Donna stared. And stared. And stared. Surprisingly, for a minute, the nasty voices in her head quieted, confused as they were to the incomprehensible sight in front of them. Donna even forgot the pervasive social anxiety and agorophobia that controlled every moment of her life up until now.
āWhat-ā Donna spoke in a stunned, baffled, frankly flabbergasted tone, āWhat are you doing?ā
At the sound of her voice, Lais froze. Her brown eyes snapped up to Donna, full of terror. Donna knew she presented particularly intimidating, all the village lords had to be, but it still hurt that Laisās first (invited) glance upon Donna inspired enough fear to paralyze the girl.
Monster.
Angie didnāt seem bothered by the sudden stiffening. She seized her moment, clamping her little wooden jaws down on the soft, webby part between Laisās thumb and pointer finger. Lais yelped, shoving the doll away from her as she brought her bitten hand to her mouth. Angie tumbled forth, catching herself with her Cadou floating ability, and swooped behind Donna, pointing one spindly limb at Lais like a tattletaling child.
āDon! Don! Sheās not in bed! She was cleaning, I saw her!ā Angie squealed, unbothered by Laisās fierce glare.
It was then that Donna noticed the state of the room. This secondary bathroom was technically Laisās; Donna had her own bathroom attached to her room. Because of this, Donna generally steered clear of the small space, not even looking inside for fear of invading Laisās space or scaring her. Even before Laisās arrival, Donna never entered the space, assuming it was a stuffy, filthy, mold-ridden abomination like the rest of her family home.
Your fault.
The bathroom was, unexpectedly, clean. The white porcelain of the sink, toilet, clawfoot tub, every bit of it had been attacked with such verve that the ceramic gleamed. The whimsical green-and-white tile that Donna and Claudia used to argue over whether it was flowers or fans had been scrubbed, the grout between the square tiles looking a crisp grey instead of a grimy, moldy black. Best of all, Donna could detect a faint citrusy chemical scent through her veil, making the room smell like a freshly scrubbed lemon.
Donna felt almost lightheaded with astonishment, āYouāveā¦ been cleaning?ā
Taking this as permission to speak, Lais exploded with apologies, falling to her knees to prostrate herself at Donnaās feet, āMy lady, Iām sorry, Iām so sorry. I only left the bed because I got so much rest last night, thanks to you! I promise Iām healed enough, and Iāve missed too much of my work already. I-I wouldnāt want you or Mother Miranda to grow displeased with me, not when you have both been so kind to me.ā
As Lais continued to simultaneously pontificate on Donna and Mother Mirandaās virtues and beg Donna not to be angry with her, Donna could do nothing more than blink. For another occasion in a long, long list of times, she gave thanks to the Black God for her veil. It was hard enough trying to school the anxiety of her expression around Mother Miranda, or hide the irritation and sadness she felt when Alcina and Karl fought during the semi-regular Lords Meetings. How was she supposed to act the part of a dignified, elegant Lord of the Village in the face of this strange, perplexing girl who trembled at Donnaās feet as though she feared being struck?
Not for the first time, Donna thought the small, oval bruises on Laisās upper arms looked a lot like fingerprints.Ā
āLais,ā Donna spoke in her usual soft manner, trying to sound as gentle as possible, āStand up, please.āĀ
Lais froze, looking up at Donna with terror written plain on her face. The bruises and cuts on her face were much less noticeable now, fading to a murky grey on her dark skin. It almost reminded Donna of having tea with her sister and nieces, murky dark liquid with a few splashes of bright red blood.
Obediently, Lais stood, yanking the hem of her skirt out of her waistband quickly, trying to smooth it down without notice. Donnaās lips quirked up below her veil. At her full height, head bowed like a willing supplicant, Laisās head still only came up to Donnaās chin. If she wanted to, she could have kissed the girl on her forehead.
What?
āCome. To your room.ā Donna stood aside, making way for Lais to march past her. Angie followed behind, little feet pattering on the floor.
Head down, shoulders hunched, Lais walked like she was being led to the gallows. Behind her, Donna wrung her hands, picking at nails that had already been picked at a thousand times over. This truly was the longest conversation sheād had with someone who wasnāt her family or The Duke inā¦ Donna didnāt know how long.
Pathetic.
How was she supposed to talk to Lais? As always, Donna looked to her family for guidance. Karl and Salvatore had no servants. Mother Miranda had maids (or were they more like lab assistants?) to attend to her experimental subjects as well as her house, and they saw the priestess as they should, as their employer as well as their savior. Mother Miranda was, as always, someone to worship and serve with their entire being. If she ever fraternized with them or even spared them a kind word, Donna didnāt know about it. She doubted the possibility of anyone catching Mother Mirandaās eye (why was she thinking about this?); she was far too devoted to her mission to waste time on lust and flesh.
Which left Alcina and her daughters. Alcina ran her household strictly, punishing those who stepped out of line and making wine out of those who crossed her. Whichever maids who were not petrified of her openly lusted after Donnaās, admittedly striking and busty sister. Donnaās favorite nieces, Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela, although a bit lessā¦ composed than their mother, nevertheless ordered around their maids as though they were born nobility. Which, Donna supposed, they were.Ā
Donna wanted to. She wanted to act the way she should, a poised and stately Lord of the Village. She wanted to open her mouth and speak clearly and loudly enough to be understood, to explain firmly but kindly that she was not angry with Lais for cleaning but she would prefer it if Lais took another day to rest. Donna wanted to act like she was the employer in this situation, the noblewoman with power and enough brains in her head to run her own household and direct her own servant.
But as Lais sat on the bed, face bruised and cut, shoulders hunched like she expected to be slapped, Donna found she couldnāt. The words she wanted to say didnāt come out the way she wanted them to.
āI made dinner.ā Donna heard herself saying, āDo you think youāre feeling well enough to eat?ā
Donna hated herself, but even she knew she wasnāt needlessly cruel. Not if she wasnāt forced to be. The very idea turned her stomach. Lais was healing. If she needed her meals ferried upstairs and delivered to her in bed for the duration of her convalescence, then Donna was happy to oblige. It was her duty, wasnāt it, to take care of the people in her employ, solitary as it was. But when Lais looked at her, hopeful and achingly forlorn, saying in that soft voice that āit was so lonely eating aloneā, Donna conceded like it was never a question.
So there she was. Sitting at her own dining room table, Lais across from her. Lais fidgeted in her chair, moving from side to side. It was an almost imperceptible rock, barely two inches to both sides, but noticeable to someone who was watching.
Watching?
āIs something wrong?ā Donna nervously picked at a scab on her wrist, a leftover from a slipped tool when dollmaking, āIf you donāt like risotto, I can-ā
āNo!ā Lais hurried to say, snatching up her spoon, āNo, it smells delicious. Iām justā¦ Iām waiting for you.ā
Donna stilled, blinking astonishedly under her veil. Waitingā¦ for her? Lais, the confusing girl who sat in front of her with a bowl of warm risotto, wanted Donna Beneviento toā¦ eat with her. Donna had not considered this. Even in her wildest fantasies, Donna had not considered sharing a meal to be an occasion that could possibly happen. She didnāt know what to say.
Thankfully, Angie, who was under the table playing with the painted wooden tops she demanded Donna make for her, took the situation from her, making it ten times worse. The little doll howled with laughter at Donnaās utter disbelief, yelling at her to, āHurry up and make yourself a bowl, Don!ā
Back in her chair, her own bowl of warm risotto in front of her, Donna began to eat. Lais followed suit, digging into the meal with the same gusto Angie reported when Donna asked. The girl ate with a joyful fervor that made Donnaās heart warm, savoring every mouthful like it was the best thing sheād ever eaten. It made Donna want to cook for her again, to see that sweet, sated look in her eyes as she fit into a succulent bite of perfectly grilled chicken.
What?
Eating made the situation, pardon the pun, a bit easier to swallow. Donna could focus on shoveling food in her mouth with shaking hands and not spilling any of the creamy beige rice on her veil. She didnāt want to embarrass herself, not on the first true occasion she and Lais had beheld each other. If Donna just focused on eating, she could avoid speaking and this would all be over soon. Lais would return upstairs and Donna could escape down to her study, resting her stress-headache-aching head on her desk as she dissected every single second of this suffocating evening.
But Lais evidently could not bear the silence.Ā
āY-Youāre a really good cook, my Lady,ā Laid began slowly, and Donna tried to ignore the tremor in her voice as the girl waited to be punished for merely speaking, and speaking praise at that, āWhat is this dish called again? Ri-something?ā
āRisotto, dummy.ā Angie answered from the floor with a firm nod, āItās an Italian rice dish, not that youād know.ā
Lais latched onto this small bit of information with desperation, āI had no idea! Forgive my ignorance, my lady. Are you Italian?ā
The room went silent, looking at her to speak. Donna tried to control her voice, āY-Yes. My family was originally from Italy.ā
Lais nodded, and they both turned back to their meals. An awkward silence ensued, broken only by Angie on the floor playing with her toys. In between bites, Donna sent a nervous pulse to Angie via her Cadou.Ā Have I said something wrong? Should I keep talking, or stay silent? Iā¦ donāt want to mess this up.
Angie sent back another pulse in return, a warm, consoling vibe that sent a wash of calm through Donna.Ā Itās fine, Don. Ask about how sheās feeling.
Donna took a breath, trying to steel herself, āHowā¦ How are you feeling, Lais?ā
Once again, Lais startled at Donnaās voice, but quickly recovered, āIām feeling much better, my lady. Iām a quick healer. I promise you wonāt have to tend to me much longer. Iāmā¦ very sorry to have taken up so much of your time. I didnāt mean to be a burden.ā
āYouāre not a burden.ā Donna surprised herself with how quickly she spoke up, āI greatly appreciate all the work youāve done here. The manor hasnāt looked so good in years.ā
āAnd you play good!ā Angie giggled, popping up over the side of the table and nearly yanking the whole tablecloth off, āYou NEVER get mad if I whack you!ā
Lais quickly looked away, covering her mouth, but Donna could see the beginnings of an overjoyed smile on the girlās face. Before she knew it, Donna too was smiling beneath her veil. It was nice sometimes, having another person around. The house feltā¦ a bit brighter, those pesky voices quiet for once.
Until one of Angieās tops clattered to the floor, and both Donna and Lais jolted, the moment gone.
Lais jumped to her feet, picking up her empty bowl and moving across the table to take Donnaās, āI-I should clean up-ā
āYou should rest-ā Donna tried.
āIām okay.ā Lais gave a small smile, āPlease, my lady. Itās my job.ā
Itās my job.Ā Why did those words unsettle her so much? Donna leaned against the railing of the elevator, Angie dancing at her heels, as she waited for the mechanical apparatus to bring her to the basement. Of course it was Laisās job, thatās why she was here. Why she would be here forā¦ five more months.
The memory of the deal she made with Alcina soured in Donnaās mouth. Lais was a boon to Beneviento Manor. She cleaned, played with Angie, and arguably, quieted those pesky voices in Donnaās head. It had been so long since her last blackout, Donna didnāt know the last time this kind of thing had ever happened. She wanted to hold the source of her serenity in her hands, never letting it go for as long as she lived. After such a break from all that pain, she didnāt know if she could return to the torment.
But Lais would be happier at Beneviento Manor. Lais would be happy and safe, protected from whatever demons followed her around. Donna wouldnāt take that from her.
The yanderes on new years? This is their first new years with Darling and they hope they get to kiss them when the clock strikes 12 š¤
Vivien always stays up, turning the night into a little mini-celebration for the two of you. He cooks/bakes special, and you have a movie marathon. Starting at like 10pm, he starts looking at you like šš„ŗ, trying to suss out what you might be feeling. He doesn't want to do anything you don't want. If you give the right signals, he gives you an amazing kiss at midnight, immediately following up with kissing all over your beautiful face. Thank you for entering the new year with him. He hopes it goes just as well as tonight did.
Noelle rarely sleeps so she is perfectly awake. Her #1 goal for tonight is to kiss you. She'll plan little activities every hour to keep you both up and you have an adorable night spending time doing crafts and cooking. She kisses you passionately at the stroke of midnight, to set the tone for the new year.
Atalanta doesn't really like staying up late, even on holidays. She needs her sleep. Enjoy a drowsy midnight kiss (you might have to blatantly ask for one, she is so sleepy rn, she cannot pick up signals). She'll make up for it by taking you out to breakfast in the morning.
Noelle would have a field day with me. I do gifts, compliments, and acts of service for those I love, but can't handle it being turned on me. I get extremely flustered at best if not an outright panic attack depending upon the situation. Noelle will still be the boss i just cant sit back and let her do all the work and attention for me. My anxiety wont let me just not do anything.
Noelle would strategically give you small tasks and things to make you feel useful while she did the big tasks. But not always.
Secretly, she likes how you are always trying to help her. If you really, really wanted to, she would let you do some chores and things. Noelle's not used to being taken care of like that... It's kind of nice sometimes. You're just too sweet for her.
Darling asks Noelle if they could have a private outdoor area. Mostly to get fresh air and sunlight and have a space to walk around in. Also wants a small food garden and flowers for it. Maybe some fruit trees. That way Noelle keeps darling in a safe space and darling gets some outdoor time.
Noelle's luxury apartment does have a small balcony, but she would never deny her perfect, lovely, well-behaved sweetheart of a Darling such a reasonable request.
Noelle is all about stretching out gratification and fun, so she would want to turn this into a project for you. She would encourage you to do research on what kind of secret garden you would like, what plants work for the climate while also look pretty, even what furniture you want to sit upon. Maybe even take an architectural drawing workshop to be able to plan it out, or a class on how to attract native pollinators.
A project worthy of Darling will cost a good bit of money, so Noelle is going to have to work like a dog for Atalanta for a few months, but it's worth it to get Darling the private space they crave.
Maybe in 2 months when Noelle finally gets a day off, she can come and have a little picnic with you?
Darling with IBS waking up in Ata's house and trying to speed run the "i am inlove with you so I relocated you to my home" dialogue so they can ask where the bathroom is before they actually shit themselves.
Honestly, Darling should shit themself as a power move.
Now you have the power in the kidnapping scenario.
Do not feel awful neglecting (I don't think you're actually doing that anyways) this blog! Like, yeah, don't get me wrong I'm always happy to see you pop in and answer asks or post writing, but. It is a hobby. If it's something that will help you then I could see prioritizing it, but don't add to your workload with something that's meant to be fun. And you sound insanely busy?? Work+school is always an exhausting combo, but teaching is one of those constantly overtaxed jobs and med school has huge amounts of information to learn. Congrats on having gotten into med school and it's really cool that you're teaching, but also I'm really sorry you apparently have to do both at once.
If I run into any good books in the future I'll try to remember to share. At the moment I need to read a not good book. My friends and I have a book club where we read books one of us didn't like so we can complain about them together. Featuring tropes such as: love corners (true love triangles need three sides! Usually it's just the woman backed into the corner), one "love interest" who treats the protag as incapable and needing to be protected to the point where he almost gets them killed (this does not teach him anything), the other "love interest" having an incredibly sketchy past with the protag and is manipulative, memory loss of the entire adventure for guy one and somehow the character growth he does manage to get is actually easily replicated by protag standing up to her bully once, a protag who is constantly making you go "wait. No. What are you doing. Why. Please. Please we've seen you be better than this", and more!
That is so kind of you! Now that school is out, I'm not teaching anymore and school doesn't start until late July so I'm trying to do a bit more on the blog. Yeah sometimes it can be a lot. I want to produce content for you guys because I know how I get when my stuff doesn't update, but it's just so difficult sometimes. Still, I'm trying to at least answer a few asks a week for you guys, because you deserve it.
But this ask was really sweet. I appreciate it.
I LOVE the idea of a shitty book club, that's so funny actually. I'm gonna have to think of something to send to you!
Selective mutism darling losing their mind because they go mute when they're overwhelmed, so first few weeks in their entire kidnapping situation with the yans, they're just like:š¶šā¹ļø
Imagine yans realising and panicking and feeling guilty after realising they made darling this stressed out and had no idea, only to understand about a week in, darling isn't literally mute, just sometimes under certain conditions.
Atalanta would feel SO BAD (which she deserves because she kidnapped you).
She would spoil Darling to make up for it and try to bring in several ways for them to communicate (writing, signs, assistive technology). Feeling safe enough to say your first words to her might actually make her cry.
Hello! Always makes my day better to see you've posted (both the yans and the current resident evil story).
At what point and to what extent do the yans step in with a darling who ignores injuries? Not even something major, but like. Pulled muscles or sprains (although those can be bad). Like darling is very "I'm not adjusting my life for this stupid thing. I'll do some strengthening exercises, but I'm going to walk, work, create, whatever despite the pain. If I tell myself I'm fine and ignore it then it will be so"? And variants of that. And extremely stubborn about it. Might even try to do more to prove how "fine" she is.
Thank you for the writing you do and don't feel pressured to respond if it doesn't spark the desire to do so!
Outside of the whole "keeping you sequestered in the apartment" thing, Noelle tries not to restrict Darling too much. She is concerned that you're hurt, and will gently try to suggest you take it easy, but she won't force you. She honestly kinda respects the way you push through the pain for the sake of your goals the same way she does.
Vivien doesn't like it. He hates seeing you in pain and loves taking care of you, so this kinda contradicts everything. But, he also hates constraining Darling. He offers use of his herbs to aid healing and insists on at least a bit of rest every day. He is way more vocal in trying to get Darling to slow down and take care of themselves, and he can even get firm with it. If you push yourself too too much, he might even use his herbs to (secretly) sedate you to get you to rest.
Atalanta hates it. She respects drive and ambition but never at the cost of her Darling's body. She is adamant about rest and rehab, and won't compromise. She might allow small tasks or short periods of gentle activity but she's not above using the guards to watch over you during your convalescence. She's not risking you getting hurt even more.
Thank you for the kind words! I'm really glad you like both the blog AND my other little side story. Feel free to send in asks about that as well!
