#the noble servant

[bookcub]

goose girl chronicles

the noble servant by melanie dickerson

this is the fourth novel adapting goose girl i have read

currently 10% of the way through and the christianity is incredibly heavy handed. both main characters are very concerned about god forgiving them constantly. it is VERY annoying and does not feel natural, more like a sermon.

one aspect i do like dual povs from our goose girl and the duke she will marry (who is ALSO going to be in disguise it looks like)

the narrative starts before her maid makes her change places although we didn't get to know her much before the journey took place, or much about her family relations

the mc had the Revelation that WOW servants are treated with NO respect!! can you BELIEVE

the writing is meh but the audio is pretty good

absolutely no nuance to this book, i am being hit over the head with the morals and the foreshadowing oof

honestly, not sure if i will finish this retelling or not, it could go either way at this point

[justaz]

in the beginning of their relationship, arthur is possessive and jealous and gets annoyed at the smallest bit of attention merlin gives anyone that isn’t him. but after arthur realizes just how devoted merlin is to him? he never doubts merlin’s love, he never fears that someone could steal him from him. he sees merlin compromise his own morals and stand against his own friends for arthur and arthur is just like Oh. because merlin is completely and utterly his. there’s quite literally no one else for either of them.

[tapakah0]

Okay! I don't know where you got the idea from and my best guess is that your brain is connected to mine via bluetooth but.

Me and Hoddie have a royal au and your animation made me think of it again.

Nothing crazy special, but...ah...I should probably give a little context yeah...hmm.

Uh, okay. There's a kingdom. whose king and queen have died, leaving behind several possible heirs who are not their direct children. Right now, the king's first general is sitting on the throne, because the power of the army is, you know, a pretty powerful argument in a fight for the throne, right? This creepy regent is Cass. And Cass came to power thanks to Hoddie, who's basically the king's heir too, but she's pretty distant and her chances of the throne are quite slim. This has made her a professional rat and back stabber. The whole palace is busy weaving intrigue and destroying each other in a competition for power. Contests in cunning and sneakiness. A maximally intellectually uncomfortable environment in general.

Until Hoddie finds the true heiress. The king's blood daughter, to whom the throne should rightfully belong.

Problem? The problem is that the heiress needs to be two years older to be old enough to rule. And Hoddie and Cass' goal is to make sure she lives to that age in an environment where every other person wants to frame or kill her.

That heiress is you, Tap. But we couldn't think of what you'd look like in this au ahaha.

MHHMMM I SEE ONCE IN A WHILE BRAIN BLUETOOTH IS A GOOD THING you left me a window for my part and I grabbed this opportunity with sharp teeth Since there was no mention of my part, I have the audacity to add my own version. Did I understand correctly that my existence as an heiress was not known? It would be strange if the king was not looking for me, if I was the only heir (by blood), which means they were hoping for a new child, or already had plans for an indirect heir, or wanted to hide me. What other power is there, besides the king and the army, that holds the common people? Church. The king could have sent me to be trained as a priestess in order to gain support from them (either I was not considered worthy of receiving the throne in the future, which is why they preferred to hide me, or the king so badly needed their support that he was ready to sacrifice his only blood daughter) . Thus, from a young age, the beauty of a non-existent world somewhere beyond the heavens was drummed into my head and, in general, “God speaks all our actions.” I have an inconspicuous appearance, a position above a simple servant, but such priests are usually considered to be the daughters of high nobles, but not the king himself, which is why not everyone could know who I really was. Thus, they forgot about my existence ~ After the death of the king and all the heirs, the church quickly realized what to do next, and crushed me to itself, hiding me from the world until I reached the age of succession to the throne. (But children could take the throne under a regent. Could Hoodi become my regent as one of the older contenders for the throne?) So, back to the turmoil. Hoodie found me at church. Since childhood, my worldview could have changed greatly under the influence of the church, so, well, you will have to hammer a lot into my head, in addition to the throne’s education (You know... it's bit complicated to make a human sona not as a stupid little ball XDD... it literally can't get a shape at this point... maybe you will place a real bunny as the new king? It will be eating cabbage 24/7 and everyone will be happy)

[misstycloud]

Yandere servant

Yandere!servant who is loyal to you only. Of course he has to listen to others in your family, otherwise he'd lose his job, but your word will always be his priority.

Yandere!servant who is eternally grateful that you took him in as a young orphan boy with no place to go. No one else wanted a filthy boy at their doorstep and turned him away instantly when they saw him standing there and asking for shelter. You were different though. You didn't throw rock at him or call him bad things.

Yandere!servant who can help you with anything. To repay you, he has made sure to be educated in various topics. Don't ask him how he learned all those things. It won't be what you think.

Yandere!servant who is at your beck and call. He’ll do whatever you order him to.

Yandere!servant who hates when you smile to the other servants. Why are you paying attention to them? They’re all useless. Bet they can’t even mop the floor properly while he had the ability to do numerous tasks.

Yandere!servant who wants you to only use him for your needs. He wants to clean your room, give you advice, help with documents and accompany you everywhere.

Yandere!servant who can only dream of being with you. Your relationship would never be accepted by society. A noble and a common street rat; it couldn’t work.

Yandere!servant who personally didn’t care about status, but what he thought didn’t matter to the higher class. Besides, he didn’t know what you’d think of those relationships and wouldn’t wish for you to be uncomfortable.

Yandere!servant whose sole chance of having a future with you is to attain a higher title. He definitely could with his intelligence. Perhaps he could invest in business among other things.

Yandere!servant who has to quit working for you in order to become successful and marry you. Despite the years it would undoubtedly take, he would remain faithful to you and always carry you in his thoughts.

Yandere!servant who will come back outstanding; someone worthy of your hand.

[dollsome-does-tumblr]

the decameron isn't taking off like tumblr's new bridgerton and i'm being so brave about it

(that's a lie. i'm not. WHERE ARE THE GIFSETS!!!!!!!!)

[starrydesiderium]

pre-LCB Hong Lu x reader \\ HCs

You're his favourite servant. He's well known for his nonchalantly kind attitude to everyone, but you're the only one who reciprocates it without fear of the punishment from his grandparents.

He enjoys reciting poetry for you and listening what you have to say about it (even though you told him numerous times that you're not educated enough to understand it's exquisiteness).

He writes poetry about you too but he's too embarrassed to show you.

You brush his hair and help him to get dressed every morning.

He tries to do romantic things he read about in novels but ends up embarrassing himself (apparently, servants are not allowed to wear high quality silk clothes and jewelry, who would've thought)

His sisters appreciate your presence in his life because there aren't many maids willing to put up with his antics.

He'll become more obsessed and clingy when his sisters start leaving the family because you're the only one he has left, his only source of joy and comfort.

You'll have to put a lot of efforts in hiding your relationship from his parents and grandmother or else he'll get punished and you'll get killed.

When you try to explain it to him he just hugs you tight, promising that he'll die right after you because you're his only reason to live.

[neechees]

Part 2 of "booktok lied to me, don't trust booktok recommendations" but I found out that Priory of the Orange Tree features a main character White Woman who is the Queen & her love interest is her woc handmaid & it was written by a White woman. I literally kept seeing ppl rec this bc of "queer main characters of color!" & ppl made it sound much more revolutionary than it was

[hisbutler-problematic]

the thing about ciel is he is an awful little boy but he does NOT raise his voice, so any time it actually happens, people get surprised

love that

he said sebastian and i will have a relationship based on bullying each other and generally being awful but i will NOT raise my voice

ciel: [yells] sebastian: Oh We’re Serious

[bisexualmultifandommess]

Because it makes me sad that Merlin hated Mordred’s guts and Mordred eventually ended up betraying them all I need fics where they get along and are sort of like brothers but maybe a subversion of the protective big brother trope and it’s Mordred being an overprotective little brother instead.

Please tell me if there’s any fics like this because I would love it

[ascendantloser]

Rest in peace Erin Eckbert you would've LOVED Imogen 🙏

[maspers]

(TW Religion)

I understand this will probably be the niche-est thing ever and most of the folks who read my posts are neither LDS nor Fate fans but like hey you miss 100% of the shots you don't inject into your bloodstream or something.

Because frankly I think if you gave Kinoko Nasu a Book of Mormon he would do Very Interesting Things to it and I'm really curious as to what those Very Interesting Things would be. The Nasuverse is already insane, so the weirdness of Mormonism would fit in without issue, I feel.

(Also can you imagine the CHARACTER DESIGNS??? Mashup those sweet Mesoamerican vibes with Ancient Middle East aesthetic, and make them all really hot. And with epic glowy Noble Phantasms. I'm so normal about this I swear)

[sillygoose1777]

Chapter 1: Disobedience sparks pity

word count: 4114

Tags: Servant whumpee, caretaker, humiliation whump, royal whump, royal caretaker, whump, tw whipping, tw slavery, whipped whumpee, non con stripping, whumpee taken in by royalty, crossdressing whumpee, og ocs, og world, og story, whumpee, whumper, noble whumper, whumpee perceived as female, possessive whumper, mentions of past trauma, mentions of past torture, tw stoning, past injuries mentioned, non con nudity, stern caretaker, multple care takers, multiple whumpers, forceful caretaking, fear of eye contact, defiant whumpee, whumpee that doesn’t talk a lot, curious caretaker, stranger whumpee and caretaker, mentions of non con activity, mentions of forced non con, manhandling, healing arc

Sonnet flinched as his master’s whip flew past his head, barely missing his ear. The next time his master didn’t miss, connecting with his shoulder and splitting his skin open. He cried out, having already lost count at what number lashing that was. Two more followed after before his master finally started wrapping the whip around his arm. 

Sweat dripped into Sonnets eyes despite the wind being cool this morning. The sun had only begun to rise a couple of minutes ago, shining light onto the small crowd that had gathered. Humiliation burned in Sonnet’s cheeks, and he leaned against the wooden pole he was tied too. He was sitting on his knees with his wrists tied behind him, making his shoulders strain. His torn up servant dress was in taters before him, though his skirt safely covered everything below the waist. Despite everything, he somehow had enough dignity, or stupidity depending on who you asked, to glare at his master. Mr.Winslow caught his eye and fumed. He advanced on Sonnet, grabbing his jaw and forcing him upwards. His shoulders screamed, if not for his voice. 

“You stupid boy, show some shame for your crime!” His master screamed in his face.

“Make me,” Sonnet spat.

That comment made Mr.Winslow livid, and he kicked Sonnet in the ribs. Sonnet struggled to heave in a breath through the pressure in his chest, and he leaned forward like a wilted flower. Clearly not done with his anger, Mr.Winslow took a swing at Sonnet. His fist connected with Sonnet’s cheekbone, cutting skin open. Sonnet saw stars as an insistent ringing began in his ears. He could hear Mr.Winslow speaking but couldn’t make sense of it. 

Once Sonnet was able to blink away the stars, he saw that his master was speaking to the slightly larger crowd. Sonnet could just make out Mr Winslow barking out an order for ‘no one to touch his stupid slave’. Then Mr.Winslow walked away to drag his pitiful wife home. Mrs.Winslow looked over her shoulder at Sonnet and mouthed ‘I’m sorry’. She had always liked Sonnet, and was usually very kind to him. But no matter how much she tried, she could never get Sonnet out of Mr.Winslow’s punishments. 

The ringing in his ears slowly dimmed to nothing but the voices of the crowd. Some were still watching, others had grown bored and walked away. Sonnet avoided eye contact with all of them. The last thing he needed was to realize just how much he had humiliated himself. He was likely going to sit there till sunset where Mr.Winslow would hand him right over to a merchant to resell him. 

Sonnect closed his eyes and started collecting his thoughts. If Mr.Winslow really was going to sell him, there was no way he would be seeing any of his stuff again. Even if they did let him keep his stuff, it would likely be taken from him by the next family he was bought by. And on the off chance Mrs.Winslow could convince her husband not to get rid of him, he would be dumped in the furnace room to work till exhaustion. He didn’t know which one he wanted less. 

…

Sonnet looked up at the sky and deduced it was a little past noon. The sun burned into his skin, making it turn bright red and soaked with sweat. He was still shirtless from this morning's whipping, and would likely be for a while unless a townsperson decided to cover him with something. That's how it worked in the kingdom of Montrose. If servants were disobedient to their masters, their master had the choice of how they would like to deal with it. Public humiliation was a popular pick, beating lessons into most servants the first time. If the public felt bad enough, they could give the punished water and feed them, could even give them clothes in Sonnet’s case. But most would not, either convinced the victim deserved it or too scared of the public eye would shame them for helping the weak. 

So Sonnet let the sun roast his skin and parch his tongue. The blood that once poured from his wounds dried on his skin. The market had long been set up and became a bustling place for passersbys. Everyone would give him a wide berth, not daring to get their polished shoes near what they considered filth. Sonnet liked it that way, it meant no one would further harm him. 

That was until a group of boys started making a beeline for him. Sonnet noticed the stones in their hands and felt a sense of dread. Before they had even made it within the circle everyone else avoided, they were throwing the stones and shouting obscenities at him. Bruises would definitely bloom later, joining the list of injuries Sonnet would have to tend to. In the distance, Sonnet thought he could hear a trumpet being played over the boys shouting. 

Sonnet continued to shrink away from the boys until he heard the sound of horse hooves clattering on the sidewalk. The king was back from his trip from a nearby country, and he was coming down this very street. The boys who were once throwing stones realized this as well and froze. The horses were thundering down the street fast with the crowd already parted away. One of the boys tried to dart away, either from fear of being caught or the fear of being trampled. It clearly couldn't be the second as the boy ran straight in front of the horse's path. 

Everyone including Sonnet gasped in horror as the knights reared the horses, towering over the boy. A few members of the crowd screamed as the horses came down, knocking the boy to the ground. As soon as the hooves touched the ground, the knights were climbing off their horses and dragging the boy up. Yelling and threatening him, the crowd divided into chaos. In the corner of his eye, Sonnet saw the door of the carriage fling open. He held his breath as he watched the king himself leave the safety of the carriage. 

“SILENCE!” The king's voice boomed over the crowd. 

Sonnet watched in awe as everyone within the next few miles stilled. The king glared around, clearly already in an awful mood only to be dealing with unruly people. The king walked over to the boy, his friends having abandoned him. One of the knights neared the king with hesitancy. 

“Your highness, it's not safe out here–” The king raised his hand to silence the knight. 

“What happened here?” he asked calmly. 

“I-I didn’t hear the trumpets and tried getting out of the way,” the boy said, cowering under the gaze of the king. The king huffed, then noticed something. 

“What are you holding?”

The knight holding the boy let go assuming the king was talking to him. The boy also raised his hands for the king to see. There were two small stones in his hands, waiting to be thrown at Sonnet. 

“Why do you have stones?”

“I uh um, I like collecting s-stones?” The kid stammered. The king eyed him as the boy's friends sniggered in the crowd. 

Feeling someone staring at him, the king turned around. Sonnet immediately averted his gaze and looked at the king's shoes. He instantly became aware of his shame and his cheeks started to go red like his sunburns. He looked down at his bloodied, sun burned, and sweat stained skin and wished he could have been swallowed up by the earth at that moment. Having been deep in his thoughts of humiliation, Sonnet hadn’t noticed that the king was standing in front of him. Sonnet looked up at the king before realizing his mistake and averting his gaze again. 

The king took in the sight before him. A bloodied and beaten servant was stripped nearly bare and tied down on display. He noticed the rocks surrounding the servant and connected the dots together. The king turned to his knights to address them. 

“Bring me some water for this servant to drink. And arrest that boy for stoning a citizen of Montrose.” 

Two knights grabbed the boy and dragged him off in anger as his friends watched in shock. A third knight presented a water bottle to the king which he took. The king then knelt down and cupped Sonnet’s cheek.

“Untie him,” the king ordered his knight. He then turned to Sonnet and began helping him drink water. The cold water rushed down his parched throat, cooling his flaming insides. The king paused the water stream when Sonnet sagged forward once he was released from the ropes tying him down. The king offered the water bottle to Sonnet and he took it, finishing it in a few messy gulps. He wiped away the few drops that escaped his mouth and flinched when the king draped him in something. He realized it was the king's cloak and he stared in astonishment. 

The king was too busy speaking to his knights. Sonnet closed the king's cloak further in to cover up as much of his bloodied chest as possible. In the next moment, arms pulled him up from his armpits and he yelped. He held the skirts at his waist, making sure they wouldn’t fall down as he wobbled on unsteady legs. He was dragged by the knight up and into the king's carriage, before being sat across from the king. The door shut behind the knight, leaving only the king and Sonnet staring at each other. 

He avoided making eye contact with the king, it was what he was taught since he was a kid. They sat in awkward silence as the carriage lurched forward and began to move. Sonnet grabbed onto the railing, startled by the movement. The king chuckled quietly and Sonnet blushed. This was getting increasingly uncomfortable for him, and he almost wished he was left at the whipping post. 

“Why were you tied there?” the king asked. Sonnet pulled the cloak further in on himself to hide the marks. Sonnet tried formulating the words, to try and sum up all the variables that played into today’s punishment. 

“Because I wasn’t a woman,” Sonnet finally said. He could tell that the king was confused but didn’t know if continuing to explain would be over stepping. So he stayed silent, like he always did. 

In actuality it was more than him not being a woman. Mr.Winslow always resented Sonnet, and often looked for any reason to punish him. But it came to a head this morning when Sonnet wore his servants dress like he always did. He helped Mrs. Winslow with her morning bath like he always did. Mrs. Winslow and a few other staff were the only ones who knew Sonnet was really a man. Though they didn’t seem to mind, if anything they seemed to find it attractive which only increased Sonnet’s discomfort as their servant. Apparently, Mr.Winslow was never informed of Sonnet’s identity and had always assumed that Sonnet was a woman. He was also known for having romantic flings with women other than his wife. So when Mr.Winslow made his advancement and Sonnet turned him down, he tried to force himself onto Sonnet, thus learning that he was in fact not a woman. He never actually told the king that, because he never asked. But it was sad for him to think about. 

The king never filled that silence. He stared at Sonnet for the majority of the ride to the castle, no longer amused whenever Sonnet would startle from a bump in the road. Sonnet gripped the railing of the carriage tight, to stop him from falling onto the king's feet. There was no need to further prove his humiliation. 

Sonnet could tell when they had reached the castle gates when the carriage became enveloped in voices. Soon they were rolling through the gates and stopped before one of the side entries into the castle. The doors of the carriage opened and the knight waiting there helped the king down. Sonnet hesitated and before he could make the decision to leave or stay, the same knight that helped the king before now yanked him out of the carriage. He stumbled and was barely able to catch his balance before he hit the floor. An iron glove gripped Sonnet’s arm and held him close, making sure he wouldn’t escape. The king was too busy talking to some of his royal staff to notice the mistreatment of his new possession. But the man who was currently talking to the king did. 

“--I'm sorry to hear about the failed- who is that?” the man across from the king asked. The king turned around and seemed to remember that Sonnet existed. 

“Oh, him.” The king snapped and a servant scurried over. “Go tell Sister Florence to run a bath for this servant. I want him properly dressed and seen by a physician afterwards.” As the servant walked away, the king motioned to the knight holding Sonnet to follow. 

The grip on Sonnet’s arm tightened where he swore it would leave bruises, and he was dragged off into the castle. The servant they were following split off in a different direction than the knight was taking him, presumably to grab whoever Sister Florence was. There were several times where Sonnet nearly fell from the pace at which they were walking. And everytime the guard would scoff and yank him onward. By the time they had reached a spacious and lavishly designed bathroom, the knight was more than happy to let go of them. 

Sonnet stood alone in the entrance of the bathroom, too scared to step further in or to leave. So instead he looked upwards as he pulled the cloak closer together. There was an intricate chandelier above him, twinkling glass charms dangling from lit candles. It was a luxury Sonnet never personally experienced, never allowed to be in fancy bathrooms unless he was with Mrs Winslow. 

There was a knock on the door and Sonnet startled. He stared as a woman dressed in all black entered, followed by a handmaiden. The woman in black gave him a sweet smile and extended her hand to him. 

“My name’s Sister Florence, I was sent to make sure you were properly taken care of.” 

Sonnet neither spoke nor took her hand to shake it, leaving the room to rest in awkward silence. Sister Florence let her hand fall to her side after a few moments of no movement. 

“Well, I’ll go draw that bath for you,” she said, walking past Sonnet and further into the bathroom. The handmaiden scurried after her, barely giving him a second glance. He started to wonder if it was too late to leave now. 

Sonnet could hear water running from where he was left standing. In a few minutes he watched the mirrors in the distance start to fog up from steam. The air became filled with scented oils, rich with lavender and lemongrass. Scents he only knew the names of because of the amount of times he had run them for Ms. Winslow. 

“Come on dear,” Sister Florence called. 

Reluctantly, Sonnet stepped further into the bathroom. Sister Florence had her hand in the water to test the temperature while the handmaiden was bringing soap bottles to the edge of the bathtub. Noticing him, Sister Florence flicked the water droplets from her hand and came closer. 

“Put your hands on my shoulder.”

Sonnet didn’t listen and watched as she knelt onto the floor. She pulled his foot out from under him and he stumbled, inevitably grabbing her shoulders. She carefully took off his shoes and chucked them to the side. Sonnet took his hands off of her as she stood up. She grabbed the cloak and pulled it off of him. The handmaiden behind him gasped and covered her mouth. Sonnet flushed, feeling exposed, both literally and metaphorically. 

“Ameila! Watch yourself,” Sister Florence scolded.

“Sorry sister,” Amelia replied. 

Sister Florence turned back to Sonnet and took his hand in hers. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, my dear. Now, let's get the rest of these clothes off of you.” 

He was thankful when Sister Florence let go of his hand. He was not so thankful when they began to take off the rest of his clothes till he had nothing left to wear. All of his clothes were tossed haphazardly onto a pile. Sonnet unclipped his dagger sheath he had attached to his thigh for Sister Florence and handed it to him carefully. She took it and looked at it curiously before setting it carefully on the bathroom counter. He was then guided into the bath, more or less against his will. Despite his reluctance, the water was quite warm and soothing. The soapy water stung against his open wounds, making them alight with fire. 

He audibly winced when Sister Florence dumped water over his back. She and the handmaiden Ameila took great care in washing him. He hated the hands that were on him, invading his skin. They lathered soap into his skin then rinsed it off before repeating it over again. By the fourth time he was rinsed, his skin felt as if it was rubbed raw. 

Sister Florence then had Sonnet sit as close to the edge of the tub as possible and tilted his head back. As he looked up at the ceiling she scrubbed shampoo into his hair. He almost relaxed into her touch, the feeling somewhat soothing. She titled his head up again and blocked his eyes while dumping water over his head. She repeated this process again before doing it one more time with conditioner. With his head thoroughly washed and the bath water having turned murky gray, they finally let him out of the bath. 

He was wrapped in one of the softest bath towels he’d ever known. Sister Florence sent the handmaiden Amila to grab his clothes while she gently rubbed him dry. Amila came back with clothes in hand. Sister Florence went to take off his towel when he stepped back.

“I can dress myself,” the first words he said to her. Sister Florence seems surprised that he spoke but respected his wish. She and the handmaiden Amila turned around while he carefully dressed. Sonnet quietly grabbed his dagger off the counter and strapped it back to his thigh. He adorned undergarments, a silk button up shirt, and wide length shorts. He was slightly disappointed he wasn’t allowed to wear a dress, but he made no fuss about it. Sister Florence and Amila turned around while he was pulling up the socks they had given him. Sister Florence had him sit down while she began to work on his hair and Amila helped him put on shoes. 

After about twenty minutes, his hair was brushed out and trimmed slightly to shoulder length. Sonnet protested against any length shorter than that. Sister Florence helped Sonnet stand up and they led him out of the bathroom. Stepping into fresh air that wasn’t filled with scented oils felt intoxicating. He followed quietly as they brought him to a bedroom. It looked like a noble’s personal suite, much too big for a servant to stay. 

“A physician will be with you shortly,” Sister Florence told him before leaving him alone in the room. 

Sonnet didn’t know what to do with his new found aloneness. He looked around the room without moving, letting himself admire the room. He could tell this was a guest bedroom with how unlived in it looked. He wondered when the last time someone had touched this room besides servants cleaning it. Would he be the first to grace this room with a living breath? A very exhausted, yet living breath. 

The door opened and Sonnet snapped his head to look at the person who entered. It was a man in a doctor's coat, holding a briefcase in one hand and the doors handle in the other. He smiled at Sonnet and stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. 

“I’m Dr. Clarke, and you are?” the physician asked. 

“Sonnet.” 

“That’s a lovely name.” Sonnet didn’t respond. “If I could have you sit on the bed, we can get started,” Dr. Clarke said as he gestured to the bed. 

Sonnet followed his gaze and sat on the very edge of the bed. Dr. Clarke followed, setting his briefcase near Sonnet. He opened it up and pulled out a few tools. He started by checking Sonnets eyes, ears, and mouth. Once the normal routines were done, Dr. Clarke put away his tools and put on a set of gloves. 

“If I could have you take off your shirt for me.”

Sonnet did as he was told, and held the folded shirt in his lap. Dr. Clarke began his work with each wound. Pouring antiseptics into the open ones, burning out any possible infection. Gently covering them in ointment before wrapping them in cloth. He would gently press against any bruises Sonnet had to test whether they needed attention or not. He had Sonnet turn around so that he could do the same thing over again for all the wounds on his back. Those ones hurt the most and Sonnet had to bite his tongue multiple times to stop himself from crying. Sonnet was allowed to turn back around when the physician was done. He buttoned his shirt back up while Dr. Clarke changed his gloves.

“Now I’ll have you take off your pants,” Dr. Clarke stated. 

Sonnet hesitated under the physician's gaze, but eventually took them off. There were fewer wounds for Dr. Clarke to focus his attention on, making it a lot quicker then when he worked on his torso. As soon as Dr. Clarke was done, Sonnet pulled his shorts back on, wanting to be left alone. Dr. Clarke packed up his briefcase, then handed a bottle to Sonnet. 

“Drink a cap-full of this tonic with every meal till your bruises are gone.” 

Sonnet held the bottle in his hands as the physician left. He leaned against the bed and exhaustion finally settled onto his shoulders. He looked out the window of the guest room and saw that the sun had well past setting. Stars were already creeping up the skyline. Just when Sonnet thought he had actually been left alone for the night, there was a knock on his door. A servant walked in with a tray of food. They set it down on a side table next to some bookshelves before addressing Sonnet. 

“I was told to inform you that you will be spending the night here. Silas will be coming to get you in the morning for your audience with the king.” 

They then gave a small head bow before leaving the room. Sonnet looked at the bottle in his hand before sighing and walking over to the tray of food. A small voice in his head warned him of the food being poisoned, but at this point he really didn’t care. So what if the king had him treated this nicely just to poison him in the end, it was better than the Winslows ever had. Sonnet sat at the small table and ate slowly, watching the castle's life dwindle by the night. By the end of the meal, he felt even more exhausted and in pain. He poured out a cap-full of the tonic before shooting it like whiskey. 

It tasted bitter in his mouth and he washed it down with a glass of water. With a full stomach and a tired mind, Sonnet blew out the candles in the room and crawled into bed. The mattress was softer than any cot he had been allowed to sleep on. Despite his history with insomnia, the soft blankets and the comfort of safety in sitting in his stomach lulled him down enough to actually fall into soundless sleep. 

[sheiireen]

Izuku Midoriya is an earl from a wealthy family. When his uncle decides to name Izuku as his successor under the condition of an arranged marriage, Izuku meets the butler named Katsuki Bakugou, who will serve under him from now on. Izuku wants to befriend the mysterious boy despite his attempts of evading the young earl. Little does he know that Katsuki harbors more secrets than Izuku could comprehend and that the world he knows is about to change forever.

[trendingdrama]

" It is true that I wavered for a moment, but I do not trust you, nor love you enough to leave everything behind me.If any small affection for me remains in you, please forget everything about me "

E10 : MY DEAREST / 연인(2023) dir.kim sung yong

[muffinlance]

Fellow Prisoner Li, Part 10: Things Sokka Didn’t Want to Overhear

Latest chapter || Read from the beginning

“And what,” said the Fire Princess, “will this Hahn bring to the position that you cannot? Besides a penis.”

“Azula.” Princess Yue giggled in a most scandalized manner. 

“You bring a lifetime of political training, the blood of the royal line, and a documented blessing by your people’s patron spirit; half the population can bring what he has. You can afford to be selective.”

The giggling intensified. 

“This a serious talk,” the Fire Princess said. “I am being serious. Just because his family has influence doesn’t mean you should sell out your family’s claim to the dynasty, particularly if such things travel solely on the male line. If you really must get a son out of him, just take him as a concubine.”

The Northern Princess laughed so hard she wheezed.

Story summary: 

Early-Season-One Sokka finds an undersocialized firebender in the brig of Zhao's ship and brings him back to the Gaang, as one does. Good thing they've nailed down Aang's firebending teacher so early, this quest is going to be a snap, and definitely not involve any betrayals by any elemental teachers. Nope. Not a one.

(Other ATLA fics || Original works)

[silent-browser]

Playing with so many ideas right now... First up on the "get out of my head" list. Also warning. My writing bad. This is me venting basically. So writing bad.

Child noble reader x yandere child servant

The sun was warm in the garden as the children were let out from their stuffy academy classrooms to roam, play and socialize. Curiousity, energy and connections were important in this life after all. However two children seemed to be standing away from the large cliques that the other children played and laughed in. Sitting in the shade of a very large flowering bush a young girl sits, carefully observing the flowers and the leaves and occasionally looking down at the book that lay in her lap.

"Maybe viburnum..." She ponders softly, looking closely at the illustrations. "Butterfly bush..?"

The other child, a servant who had been deemed ready by the head butler of her household to serve her stands quietly watching her before he finally speaks softly. "It can be what ever flower you wish it to be my lady. Hydrangea, snowball bush, viburnum, butterfly bush. Any of them can be or become what every you wish."

The young noble giggles back a response, "silly, that's impossible. If it's one kind of flower how could it ever become some other kind. That's like saying that a chesnut tree is actually an apple tree" she giggles on at the absurdity of the statement.

"I would do it" the young boy whispered, far too entranced with his master's laughter to ever think of disturbing it. "If only you continue like this for me"

Their peace was soon cut short by alarmed shrieking coming from the other children. Professors urge the children inside, warning of a sudden invasion of bees on the property.

"What is everyone so afraid of?" The young girl huffed to herself, annoyed at the sudden loss of her reading time. "They are only bees. They don't want to hurt anyone."

"Still, they may be dangerous." The boy fretted. Knowing what his precious lady might do if left outside with the insects. "Let's get you inside where you won't-"

"We need bees don't we? At the house?" The girl humed to herself, unknowingly interrupting her companion. "The chef always complains of honey prices right? And keeping bees on our property would make for better, brighter flowers in mothers garden." Nodding with growing excitement she smiles. "Yes, bees would be a fantastic addition to our home. Fetch Cassidy and tell her that I will be bringing along some friends home and to prepare a very large wooden box. I already have a match box that we can keep the queen in. All I need to do is find her!" After giving her orders she hops up and carefully dusts off her dress before clutching the flora book to her chest and rushing off in the direction of the bees.

With exasperation and deep affection the young boy she left standing by the yet-to-be classified flower bush sighs and moves to follow her orders. The master and madem would not be happy with this, he thought, but if it made her happy that is all that ever mattered.

The next day, after a very long trek home and an even longer explanation as to why there was suddenly a box of bees in their home the noble girl was back in school. Proud of her successful relocation of the bee swarm with no stings AND successful convincing of her parents to let her keep them she sat at her homeroom desk and drew. The next task was designing a bee box with removable frames so that they might harvest and profit from the bees and fully impress her parents with her find. As she quietly was drawing up some very crude plans for the bee box she had not noticed the two boys sneaking up behind her desk until they had unceremoniously dumped a sizable spider onto her desk.

"Here," a jeering voice called from behind her, "since you like bugs so much we got you this one."

A second voice mocked "maybe now you will finally have a friend"

As the pair laughed at their prank the girl sat frozen in her seat, staring at the spider as it lay motionless on top of her half drawn and very messy plan. Unable to scream or stand she was forced to sit and watch this large dead spider. She wanted help. She needed help. She doesn't do well around dead things. Even worse if they are some kind of spider or crawly thing. In this moment time froze for her. Her lungs felt as if they were made of lead, her heart racing as though preparing for a life or death fight, her mind blank. Before a hand crashed into view, blocking her direct line of sight with the spider.

"How dare you" a rumbling demand that caused the laughter to stop. "You knew this would scare her. You used it to your advantage. You are supposed to be the best of the best. The smartest, strongest, most clever in all the kingdoms. You are, both of you, acting like common idiots. For scaring a girl. How. Fucking. Dare you."

He was enraged. He wanted to rip their heads off. He wanted to feed these thoughtless insects the spider they were so proud of. He wanted to display their tortured bodies on the flag pole of the school to show any and all those who would ever touch his lady what would happen if they made her upset. She was supposed to be celebrating her victory. Not nearly passing out because of some stupid boys idea of a prank. But as much as he wanted to force them to grovel at her feet his first task and priority was to move her elsewhere so the wretched creature could be taken care of and she would have time alone to breathe. He quickly scooped her up into his arms, taking only a moment to relish the act of protecting her before quickly making his way back to the garden and quietly resting her once more under that flower bush where she finally allows herself to fold into a small ball and weep openly.

Those boys will pay, he thinks. But not right now, right now my duty is to my master. My sweet, thoughtful, beautiful master.