#fear of punishment
Full House 19 - Night’s Shift
Anon asked:
Eri being caretaked?
CW: caretaker new master, pet whump, multiple whumpees, fear of punishment.
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Night looked around the room. Everyone was sleeping in the pile, it was an uneasy sleep, but at least they were together and when someone whimpered scared the others were quick to calm them down.
It’s late. Night thought as he got up —Master Eri said they are allowed to walk, he isn’t being a bad pet, he is just obeying— and walked out of the room. The night would protect him; if anything he could say he was working, and if he was found somewhere he shouldn’t be he could say he heard a suspicious noise there.
The doctor —Sir. Beckett, if Night heard right— had left. Night heard the fight, although he didn’t quite understand, “Why did you call me here if you thought I would hurt them?” the doctor shouted. Maybe master wants you to hurt us. Night thought, it made sense, in truth it was obvious.
“I’m sorry, I just- please I need help!” Master had said, and if Night didn’t know better, he would say his voice was full of despair.
As if humans can even know how this feels! Night stopped in front of the room the youngest was, he had had it too hard already so why? Why is this master picking on him too? There are five other —stronger— pets! Why do they want to hurt the weakerone? The one that can’t survive this much longer!
I heard a suspicious noise, so I went to check in. I heard a suspicious noise, so I went to check in. Night thought his excuses beforehand and he touched the doorknob. Yes, he would still be punished for chasing a nonexistent threat, but he would be punished even more harshly if he were to say he just wanted to check in on the boy.
The door had barely opened when Night regretted his choices. The boy was lying on the bed, apparentlywithout new wounds, but there was a tub going into his nose from somewhere Night had no time to check; the boy wasn’t alone. Bad idea bad idea bad idea idea-
“Night?” Master Eri —who had woken up with the sound of the door being open– asked, rubbing his eyes and making Night wonder: If he just closes the door and hides, would master think he was dreaming when he saw Night?
Master checked on the phone just long enough to look at the time, “Are you working, dear?” he said with a sleepy voice.
“Yes, Sir,” Night lied, almost putting himself on his knees, but master —says— he doesn’t like it when the pets kneel, maybe it’s because he knows that kneeling eases some anxiety, it gives some sense of safety, of being proper; Why would master want them less anxious?
“I… heard a suspicious noise, so I came to check in.”
“Seriously? I didn’t heard anything,” Master Eri said, making Night’s blood run cold; If this excuse don’t work I- “But, well, I was sleeping so I wasn’t really paying attention, thank you for coming to check, Night,” Master smiled, and even if Night didn’t find any of the little signs from when someone is lying, he was still suspicious.
“Is everyone okay?” Master Eri asked getting up, “Maybe I should take a look-”
“No need,” Night cut, swallowing hard at his own bad behavior, but if Master sees everyone on the pile he will be so mad right? Since the pets are comforting each other. Cruel. If Master hadn’t left them this anxious they wouldn’t need comfort to begin with! “They are only pets, sir, they don’t need your attention this late.”
Master frowned, which is odd, humans like when pets talk about how little they are worth. “Still, it’s better to-”
The boy whimpered quietly, making Master’s eyes turn at him. Night tried to ready himself to the sight; the boy would be punished for sure, even if he has no fault, even if it was just a little sounds, even if-
“I’m sorry,” Master said and, for a second, his smile fell and he looked so tired, it was only a second, Master’s usual expression was back, but Night had no doubt about what he saw, “I didn’t pay attention to any of you but him the past days, I- I’m sorry, I’ll do better in the future,” he sat back down, seemly not willing to explain his nonsensical words. “I trust you to keep everyone safe, Night, I know how trustworthy you are.”
The praise got him off guard, making his face go hot.
“I’ll be staying here tonight,” Master continued, looking at the —now silent— sleeping pet.
Night tried to understand the situation, but in the end he is just a stupid pet and whatever master was talking about made little to no sense. But he understood one thing. Master won’t leave the room.
The others would be safe but the smaller, weaker one would be here; on reach, too defenseless and easy to hurt. Night didn’t want to allow that, even if a pet doesn’t really have a choice about anything.
“Then I’ll stay too,” the words left Night’s mouth before he could think about it, he glanced at his owner, but Master didn’t seem angry at that so, against all reason, Night decided to keep talking. “Since I heard the suspicious sound…” he lied, “so it’s safer for you, Sir.”
Master thought about it for a few seconds before nodding tiredly, “I can use some company, thank you.”
Some company… so he really wants something to hurt.
Night walked in after closing the door behind him, he knelt as he was trained, not as gracious as Purple, certainly not so cute as Pink or desparate as Day and Beige, but still submisse, still waiting for a pain he knowshedoesn’t deserve, but that he has no way of stopping.
“You are really kind, Night,” Master said absent-mindedly while patting the pet, who was then too scared to enjoy, in truth this only made his stomach turn, “Try sitting okay?” Master ordered, and Night obeyed, feeling the anxiety increase at the improper and not trained position. Master leaned back on the chair and closed his eyes, “Thank you for coming here, really, I’ll make up for leaving you all alone. I’m just–” he yawned, “–a bit tired now.”
Night noticed that Master had drifted back to sleep, he can do that, he isn’t the vulnerable one, he won’t be hurt no matter what he does. The boy whimpered in his sleep again, he seemed in pain, he wasin pain.
Because we are pets. Night thought, because we must suffer even in our dreams.
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Catnip
I don’t know
CW: tiny whumpee, fear of punishment.
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Whumpee shivered in place, everything on him wanted to back away, but one more step back meant to fall from the table to the hard floor, meant to break so manybones.
“Please,” he begged weakly when the huge hand came closer, lifting his chin with the tip of the finger, “Please don’t- don’t hurt me please I-”
“Shhhh” the woman said with a playful smile, her cat ears moved shortly towards a sound outside and back at him right after. She was looking down as if he was a prey. He is. “You are so small…” she said, pinning him down with her finger.
Whumpee hissed in pain when his back hit the table, “Please, please don’t I didn’t- didn’t do any-” the rest of the words died out when the woman’s snout got closer, close enough to touch the tip of her nose on his head as she sniffed him for gods know the reason.
“Why do you smell like that?” She asked, not stopping sniffing, she didn’t wait a second to speak again, “I made you a question!”
Whumpee swallowed hard, “I-it’s a p-p-plant, I I-” bright tears streamed down on his cheeks, “I-I’m a a plant plant fairy, sorry, sorry.”
The woman’s eyebrows arched, “Which plant?” she held him up, pressing him against her face, “I don’t know this smell.”
“I…” he struggled to remember the word non-fairy uses the plant, “C-cat-” he managed as the woman rubbed her face on him, “catnip.”
=-=
The Blackmuir Reign Snippet: The Knight and the Boy
CW: **whump of a minor** in the past, but resulted in permanent mutilation/injury (the boy doesn’t speak because of the fairly recent removal of his tongue) hurt/comfort, fear of punishment, communication issues, past abuse and threats, serious hand injury (Rudy).
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“Youdo know your letters, don’t you?”
The boy’s eyes flew to his, realizing his mistake. He’d been caught reading the ornamental inscription of an antique dagger. It was a dirty trick, but Rudy knew he’d be interested in a blade like that one and brought it to show him. He’d watched his eyes to see how they landed on the script, if they followed from left to right with any comprehension.
“It would do everyone some good if you would answer questions on paper for us, you know. We could keep it to yes or no.”
The boy looked away, all the color drained from his face. The dagger sat innocently on the tabletop. By my side or in my enemy’s, the hiltread in an earlier from of Muirish. Most native speakers still found it intelligible, if stilted.
Rudy sighed, re-tucking the end of the bandage that wound around his hand. The last two fingers no longer moved. If that was going to change or not, time would tell. It had been worth it to see the brute who would cut out a child’s tongue bleeding lifeless in the dirt. He only wished he’d had the luxury of making it last a little longer. Of making it painful.
“King Therrin is a good man, you know. He grew up as a ward in the far south. Not some spoiled, unworldly Prince waiting to inherit a Kingdom. I wouldn’t have ridden against the crown to take the capital with just anyone.”
The boy flashed a glance from under his floppy copper hair, so like that of the dead Usurper. He seemed to perk up at talk of battles, of riding in the vanguard against terrible odds. Rudy had seen him mesmerized in the Great Hall, hanging on the every word of a bard’s new song about the siege.
“Look at this. What if I placed an apple here.” He took a red and yellow apple from its wooden bowl (sour little things they were, this far north). “And a cup here…” He placed a pewter cup opposite the apple. “Apple means yes. Cup means no. You point at the apple or the cup to answer, and I don’t tell the King you know your letters. Would you answer some questions for us then?”
The boy stared at the apple. His mouth grew pale and tight whenever he was afraid, and Rudy didn’t know if it had anything to do with what happened, like he was clenching his jaw and holding his lips tight together to protect where he’d been hurt. His little heart began to pound— Rudy could see the rhythmic shiver of his tunic at the armpit.
“Someone told you not to talk to us,” he said flatly. Not a question. “Someone who hurt you.”
Quick green eyes met his. It was the loudest yes he’d ever heard, but still the boy did give an answer in any tangible way.
Rudy would gladly tell him he put his knife through the Tongue Cutter’s throat and opened it like gutting a trout if he did not think it would steal an innocence he could not put back. He wanted the boy to have no inkling of responsibility for that death. The blood was on his hands, and his alone.
“What if the King wasn’t there?” Rudy tried instead. “Would you answer questions for me?”
Rudy thought the apple might spontaneously combust from the intensity of the gaze on it.
“What if we start with you writing your name on a piece of paper? Your name is yours to give to anyone you please, is it not?”
He had pushed too much. To his dismay, the boy began to cry— a sudden welling of tears he turned away to swipe at with his sleeve as if embarrassed.
“Alright now, hey,” Rudy soothed. “It’s just me, little one. You’re not in trouble. We’re just looking for a way to talk to you.”
He placed a hand on the boy’s head and he turned quickly, nearly throwing himself into the Knight’s arms.
Rudy folded him against his chest and held him gently, loose enough he could get away if he wanted. The boy sobbed once— a hoarse, strained sound from a voice that has fallen into disuse and hugged him back tightly, as if someone were going to try and pull him away.
Rudy thought of the Tongue Cutter’s knife, how it had felt as he pulled him closer by his blade to kill him. He wondered if the boy had been cut by the same knife that sliced the flesh of his hand.
I’d have let him cut my sword hand too, if it would take back what they did to you.
He pulled away just far enough so he could take the little foxlike face in his hands. The boy looked up at him, openly trusting even though it was a Knight who had hurt him, in the same garb and armor as Rudy wore.
“I won’t tell the King you know your letters,” he promised. “And no one’s going to hurt you. Do you know that? I won’t let them.”
The boy nodded sharply, giving a tiny whimper on an exhale that would break the heart of even a soldier as weathered as himself.
“And what is this thing?” Rudy asked, plucking at the sleeve of the plain, shapeless tunic the servants in the kitchens had given him to wear. “If you dress in a potato sack, you’ll get confused for the potatoes. That’s what happened to the last kitchen boy, didn’t they tell you?”
He looked down at his ill fitting tunic and grinned through tears.
“They’ll throw you right in the soup,” Rudy said, and pulled a clean linen from his pocket he intended as spare bandage for his hand. He swiped gently at the boy’s cheeks with it, then let him take over himself. He took the linen a little sheepishly, dabbing it on his eyes until they were dry.
“Come,” Rudy said. “Let’s get you away from those kitchens for a while. Have you ever swung a steel sword? Even in practice?”
His eyes went bright, excited as any young boy at the prospect of wielding something dangerous. He shook his head no, he hadn’t, and dropped his gaze to the hilt of Rudy’s broadsword.
“Not that one,” Rudy laughed. “That’ll flip you right over. There’s lighter ones in the yard, to learn on. Come on. I’ll take you.”
