#Recaptured

[linecrosser]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 24 - Failed Escape

(he was not fast enough)

[chaotic-orphan]

Recapture

Hello! I’m sorry I have been absent, but the next two weeks are my exam times and I most likely won’t be active, but good news is that my exams finish on the 17th! Which means a whole summer of more writing!! Thank you for being patient and here’s a lil whump drabble to scratch that itch

*~*~*~*~*

Caretaker was dragged through the camp struggling like a worm on a hook. Two of Whumper’s men stood on either side of them, marching Caretaker by their arms to Whumper. Caretaker’s hands were zip-tied awkwardly behind their back, and no matter which way they moved their wrists the plastic cut into them sharply.

Caretaker saw Whumper before they reached their tent. Slightly larger than most, big enough to hold a cot and a space for tactics. Whumper’s war room. Whumper’s hair shone like a star in the darkest night’s sky, the moonlight reflecting off of the silvery strands. It always looked a little off, a little too unreal. A little too beautiful.

Whumper smiled when they saw Caretaker being dragged towards them, dismissing the people they were talking with to greet Caretaker with open arms. Literally.

“Caretaker,” they said, voice happy and light. “I know it’s only been a few hours, but I must say I missed you.”

“Yeah, well,” Caretaker replied, their voice coming out weaker than they would’ve liked. “You’re like a rash I can’t get rid of.”

Whumper’s eyes widened slightly as they glanced over Caretaker’s head to see if there would be another in zip-ties like Caretaker. Looking for Whumpee. Then they fell to one of the guards holding Caretaker. Without a command, the two guards threw Caretaker to the ground. Their hands shot out to catch themselves but caught on the zip-ties, and the best Caretaker could do to not eat a face full of dirt was to let their shoulder take the brunt of the impact.

“Caretaker, Caretaker, Caretaker,” Whumper said with a long sigh. Caretaker watched Whumper’s shiny boots draw closer to them. Then swing back out of sight swiftly. Caretaker barely had enough time to catch their breath before it was forced out of them, let alone try and turn away as a gleaming boot came down in a flash. It hit their ribs and Caretaker gasped, curling into a ball but it didn’t stop the next kick, or the next, or the next.

Whumper’s boots stopped in front of Caretaker’s eyes. Whumper sighed above them, and crouched down. Leather creaked as Whumper ran their fingers through Caretaker’s hair and made a fist before yanking. Caretaker cried out as Whumper craned Caretaker’s head back until they were looking into Whumper’s cold, impassive face.

Whumper tilted their head to the side. “Where’s my favourite pet, hmm? Where did you leave them?”

“I don’t know where they are,” Caretaker spat. “I just know they’re far away from you.”

Whumper’s smile could freeze hell, and seeing it sent shivers down Caretaker’s spine. Whumper released Caretaker’s hair and pushed them onto their back, leaning a knee down on Caretaker’s chest.

“That’s not the answer I want to hear, Caretaker.”

“Fuck you!” Caretaker ground out, then let out a sharp cry after Whumper punched them in the face. Their head smacked back off the dirt ground of the camp and Caretaker felt a headache creep into their skull.

For a long moment, Whumper just stared down at Caretaker, the same cold smile on his lips. Then Whumper got to his feet and waved his hand at Caretaker. Caretaker didn’t have to wait long to know what that gesture meant before the guards were taking his arms again and yanking him up.

Caretaker kicked out at them, catching one of them on their hip and turning to twist out of the other’s grip. The other yanked Caretaker towards them, throwing them off balance. Before they managed to correct it the guard they kicked had their hands on Caretaker’s elbow again and between them they managed to subdue a feral, cursing Caretaker.

Caretaker stopped struggling when their eyes were enthralled by Whumper’s, as if they were caught in a snare. It made their blood run cold. Not Whumper’s eyes or cold smile, but his current bare index finger and thumb that was removing their remaining glove from their hand.

“Caretaker…” Whumper said with a sigh. “I really hate to do this, especially to you. You’re my— you were my closest friend. You and I were like family.”

Caretaker fought to urge to try and back up in the guards hold. Everything in their body screamed at them to flee. To run, but they forced themselves to remain in place.

“We were friends before you needed goons to do your dirty work for you.”

Whumper’s eyes flashed with amusement as they advanced on Caretaker, reaching forward and ignoring Caretaker’s flinch, stroked the back of their knuckle along Caretaker’s jaw. Something so familiar about it broke Caretaker’s heart, but only now did they see the manic possession Whumper mistook for love in their eyes.

“That’s right, we were. Back when you were the one to do my dirty work for me, right?”

Caretaker swallowed the lump in their throat, or tried to, because it was still lodged there.

“Then you had to go and get noble, Caretaker. All for a pathetic nobody who wouldn’t return the favour.”

“I’d do it again.” It was a confession.

Whumper had the gall to look a little sad as they said softly: “I know. And you know what I must do now.”

Caretaker tried not to cry. They wanted to greet their maker with dignity. “I do.”

Whumper steeled their expression, jaw clenching, moulding their face as far to impassive as they could.

“For what it’s worth,” Caretaker said softly, their voice scratchy as if they had just swallowed sand. “You were my fiercest friend too. I don’t regret what I did, but I’m sorry I had to betray you.”

Whumper’s stoic expression cracked a little. In their left eye, Caretaker saw the telltale twitch and they smiled. They knew if they were alone Whumper would have expressed their doubts too, but Caretaker knew it had to end this way when they broke Whumpee free. Whumper knew it when they found Whumpee’s cage empty.

Caretaker nodded. Then closed their eyes and waited for the final blow.

It didn’t come.

Instead, Caretaker heard the most devastating sound they would ever hear.

“WAIT!”

Caretaker’s eyes shot open meeting Whumper’s smirking face. Caretaker lurched forward, renewing every struggling effort to get free of the guards’ hold but Caretaker didn’t get very far.

“Whumper, wait! Whumper! Don’t,” Caretaker cried, trying to squirm out of the guards’ hold but every time they got a bit of leeway the guards would change their position and keep Caretaker firmly between them. “Whumpee! RUN!”

“Oh, it’s too late for that, Caretaker,” Whumper said with a smile. “My men already have them. They’re bringing Whumpee up now.”

Whumper turned their attention back to Caretaker, a cruel glint in their eye that scared Caretaker. “Looks like you betrayed me for nothing,” Whumper told them and Caretaker’s seemed to disintegrate in their chest.

It wasn’t gentle, more like a shrapnel bomb going off inside them, pieces of sharp metal lodging in everything. It was difficult to breathe as if Whumper had his goons submerge Caretaker in a barrel of water and was waiting for them to drown.

When Whumpee’s eyes caught Caretaker’s they wanted to scream.

Why didn’t you run?

I told you to run!

This wasn’t apart of the plan!

I risked everything for you.

Whumpee’s expression was entirely apologetic, and it broke something else inside Caretaker. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t let you die.”

Whumper let out a little laugh at that. Caretaker stared at Whumpee, certain every emotion was crossing their face. Until Whumper stepped between them and Caretaker’s gaze strayed to his face instead.

Whumper reached a hand out and settled it under Caretaker’s chin, tilting their head up to face Whumper. They wanted to cry, to scream, to spit. All they did was stare.

“See what heroics gets you?” Whumper said gently. Caretaker couldn’t speak, emotion clogging their throat and not letting air or words through.

Without breaking eye contact with Caretaker, Whumper said: “bring Whumpee back to their cage, and make sure you double the guards around their tent.”

All adrenaline left Caretaker’s body in a quick flush leaving them drained and defeated. “You’re coming with me to my tent, Caretaker,” Whumper promised, something dangerously soft colouring their voice. “We have much to discuss.”

[painsandconfusion]

Whumpee gets auditory hallucinations a lot since they've been rescued, so they've learned to just cover their ears and ignore Whumper's voice or Caretaker's screams, knowing that they're safe at home and no one is going to get hurt.

So. One day, when Caretaker actually screams, pleading for help and for Whumpee to call the police, they don't think anything of it.

[whumpasaurus101]

Whumpee collapsed in Whumper’s arms, clinging onto them with as much strength as they could, their bloodied knuckles burning a lighter shade.

Caretaker squeezed Whumpee close to them, closing their eyes as they felt a tear slowly roll down their cheek, “It’s all over, I’ve got you. You dont have to be strong anymore.”

Whumpee sobbed into Caretaker’s shoulder, “I-wa-w’s br’ve….j’sss…jus’ like y’ as-assssked me t-to….”

Caretaker bit their lip, trying to hold back their tears but it was impossible, “And you did so good buddy well done, I’m so proud of you. Now we need to get you a medic before-“

“Before what?” Whumper smirked, folding their arms about a meter or two away from the pair, both jumping.

“Do go on, I’d just love to hear!

[whumperofworlds]

Whumpee, when being recaptured: I'M BACK IN THE FUCKING BUILDING AGAIN!

[alextries]

Whumpmas in July day:12

Caught

CW: small mentions of blood and cutting people

Other parts: “____” deserved it”, left behind , mind games

________________________________

Set a few days after mind games

________________________________

Trickles of blood fell onto the floor from the back of 139.20s neck and the doctor couldnt help but hum to himself as he sliced through the flesh knowing that he really should have done this to the subjects ages ago. He put the scalpel down and picked up the little tracking chip and puched it underneath the cut, listening to 139.20s muffled sobs and pleas as if its not his fault the doctor has to chip it and 125.22.

It really is an inconvenience you know, he had planned on doing a different experiment today and now he had to reschedule it to do this. 125.22 is now strapped to the chair with 139.20 now curled up in the far corner of the room. The collars were meant to do the tracking but with 139.20s stunt yesterday he now needed to chip the subjects in a more permenant way. He still remembered the absolute headache that stunt gave him and he let himself get lost in thought about it, not paying much attention to the subjects in the room.

—————

Yesterday

—————

*beep* *beep* *bee-* the doctor hit his alarm clock and the first thing he noticed was how much his back was killing him. He must have slept at his desk again and then he knew he had slept at his desk again as when he tried to get up he wound up on the floor with his desk chair underneath him. “Bloody- why does this happen every time. I have a couch in here for heavens sake. Why cant i ever wake up on the couch” he whined to himself as he got up and he headed straight for the kitchen before stopping.

“Ahh yes the subjects… I should get some food for them too, well if they’d take any food off me now” he hadn’t really thought that one all through. The subjects were yes, subjects, but he still wanted to treat them decently enough. It makes the experiments go easier when they behave and what he made 139.20 do that day will either set his behaviour a bit straighter or leave him with a fear of food and that would make keeping him alive more difficult than keeping two subjects already is.

He also had to admit he went a bit far. He didn’t have any reason to do that he just wanted to give it a little scare or make it question itself a bit. Not make it and even 125.22 who, he cant even remember the last time it cried, started crying. He knew he should stay detached from their feelings and wants for the sake of the experiments progress but sue him he felt a bit bad for doing that. Its fine when theres reason to hurt them but without reason it just feels cruel.

He quickly made his coffee and got out some bread and water for the subjects breakfast. Walking down that corridor he felt odd, not in the oh did I forget something odd but the somethings not right here odd and he knew just what it was when he reached the subjects room to find the door open and 125.22 quietly sobbing and apologising in the corner of the bed. With an open collar in the middle of the room.

“Where is 139?” He demanded but it just balled itself up further into the beds corner.

“I. Said. WHERE!”

“*hic*…he went for the *hic* door at the end of the hall…I’m so sorry *hic*” 125.22s sobbing got louder but Dr. Greniard couldn’t hear it anymore, he started running to the end of the hall “shit, shit, shit.” The lift. It was heading for the lift behind that door. He got the door open and the lift had a bright letter G over it. Ground floor to try and make a run for it, it’s okay, I can fix this. He pressed the lift button and headed for the ground floor, quickly heading to the main exit and started bolting to the trees nearby when he saw 139.20 far ahead.

Now the subjects don’t know this about him. Even his closest colleagues don’t but when he was in college he was on track. He can go fast but he can also do it for a long time, and with some added learning, quietly. He knew that he had to wait 139.20 out until it got too tired to go any further and too unsuspecting of being caught as he didn’t see anyone coming after him. So he did.

It took 2 hours before 139.20 collapsed on the road after trying to hitchhike. No car would take it and the little one just couldn’t go anymore. 139.20 never noticed him though. He followed him through the thick trees and luckily his stamina and quietness did not deteriorate after not using those skills in some time. He kept up easily, so easily he almost felt bad for the subject sprawled out on the road.

“Silly little subject. Thinking he could get away” 139.20 started struggling and tried to make a run for it but its energy was spent and he resorted to crying and pleas when it realised how much trouble it was truly in.

“Now, now 139. Be good and still while i carry you back or i can make you be good and still, ” he pulled out a syringe from his coat pocket and was glad he carries the syringe around all the time. “One little dose of this will paralyze you for hours, also you wont be able to speak or even understand whats going on so do you want this” he held the syringe up in one hand “or this” and he extended his other had to the subject.

139.20 took his hand quicker than he thought it would and the doctor felt like rewarding that a bit. He picked it up bridal style and put the syringe away, feeling the subject sigh in relief that it was out of its sight. He carried him back, and it took 4 hours of walking but they got there in the end and he even pet 139.20 on the head a bit during the journey as that is just the perfect way of rewarding the little one for behaving on the walk back.

They went in the lift and he realised that 139.20 had actually been very quiet which is unusual. Maybe it was dehydrated or just tired but he would grab some water for the subjects in a bit. “125!” 125.22 stepped out of their room quickly and looked at 139 with pity and then at the doctor with fear.

“ we are all going to experiment room one for a little work I need to do on you both. So c’mon” he felt 139.20 shudder against him and 125.22 started shuddering too but obeyed and went to the room just beside their bedroom and he followed, putting 139.20 in the chair and getting out the tracking chips he would need and then reaching for the scalpel

And muffled screams and sobs of 139.20 in the chair followed soon after.

[lancedoncrimsonwings]

Iron Blood.

A Whumpy AF snippet from my Lancewain fic, based off of Cursed on Netflix.

Spoilers for the TV Show, and aforementioned fic which may or may not ever be posted. This can be read as a whump piece, just replace the names with the relevant titles;

- Lancelot/The Weeping Monk: Whumpee

- Gawain/The Green Knight: Caretaker/Whumpee

- Brother Cain*: Whumper

*OC, Brother Salt's tutor and a feared torturer in employ by the Trinity Guard/Pope/Red Paladins.

Premise:

Years after he was previously tortured by Brother Cain, Lancelot is recaptured, and awakes to find himself alone in a room, injured and restrained. As Fey, they are allergic to iron, which causes burns on contact with skin, and the shackles at his wrists are made of iron...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Lancelot listened to the curious sound, slowly opening his eyes and wrinkling his nose at the sickening stench of fear that mingled readily with the similarly heavy scents of iron and blood. The air was cold and damp, and, feeling a fresh twinge of pain in his aching shoulder, he turned his attention to the sound.

Blood dripped steadily from his fingertips. Oozing slowly from the carving upon his left shoulder, it traced rivers of crimson down his arm before collecting between the iron shackle and his skin. So severe were the iron burns, and so close was the metal to his sore, abraised skin that the blood now pooled up and over the outside of the cuff like an overflowing dam. It offered his burned wrist a modicum of relief. Scarlet glistened in the low light as it invariably flowed down down down, following the swell of his knuckles and the length of his fingers to splash into a coagulating puddle on the floor, steadily staining the cold ashen stone into a dirty red.

As Lancelot's eyed adjusted to the low light he was struck with an air of... familiarity.

No, it couldn't be.

It was...

This, the very same room he had once been tortured in before, but as a boy, not a man, this, the room he knew without a shadow of a doubt had been picked on purpose to hold him, to break him. This, the place that echoed in his nightmares day after day, the same sight, the same scents, even the sounds were achingly, hauntingly familiar.

His own, shuddering breaths. The incessant sound of blood splattering across the floor. The flickering of the torchlight in the brazier across from him. The awful tang of iron, the pain of his wrists... the restraints bolting him upright to the slab of wood and metal he was strapped to. The thick belts across his chest, hips, and thighs. The shackles at his wrists and ankles. All of it, all of it, the Goddamn same.

Shit. Shit!

They had let him keep his boots and trousers this time, but his torso was bare, his back and his healing scars pressed firmly into the slab. As if on cue, pain flared within them, yet this was different, somehow... it took him a moment to figure out why. The realisation that the wood was laced with iron nails struck as sharply as they did when they bit into his skin.

This was new...

Lancelot struggled first to swallow his panic at what him being brought here, now, must mean. Brother Cain would have been the one to order this, for he was the one- the only one- who knew such... intimate details of his time here before. He tried to focus on what was different, the nails, but it did nothing to stop his fear as it threatened to consume him. Nausea, fear, desperation all swelled within him, giving in to blind panic he struggled fiercely against the restraints, biting back a groan as the nails pricked into his back, slicing him with every slight movement and every gasp of air. No matter how hard he tried it was utterly in vain.

He felt something snap within him as the terror gave way to a soothing wave of icy numbness, it set his teeth on edge and his head spinning, his arms, legs, face even his tongue prickled and tingled like he'd been struck by lightning. Some part of him knew well enough if he'd had thought enough left to speak, it would have been slurred and nonesensical and if he had not been chained, he would have passed out. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure he hadn't.

From the eerily detatched state now found himself in, he recognised that the only movement they had allowed him was that of his head. All the better to watch when Brother Cain would surely arrive...

He knew better than to hope that particular time came quickly.

The hours stretched on and on in the dark, and in the biting swarm of his own panic, Lancelot found himself losing every shred of will he'd held onto so firmly. His body shook and quaked. At times he cried out, whimpering and weeping, whilst at others he laughed near maniacally from the utter absurdity of the situation he had somehow found himself in. Again. He knew not whether he was now as he was before a boy of just ten years old, screaming till his lungs gave out and he could scream no more. He knew not whether he was locked into his nightmares, tossing and turning in a cot in some Paladin's encampment somewhere, just begging, waiting, praying to wake up, just wake up, just w-

The sound of a man screaming down the hall stirred his mind- no... he was not dreaming. Lancelot the boy craned his small head towards the sound with an urgency he could not understand, why, what was so familiar about this sound? A man was screaming, men often screamed here. The boy knew no others here so--

Gawain.

The screaming was Gawain.

No...

And that realisation jolted him from the depths of his brush with madness, the boy retreated back into his memories once more. Brother Cain surely must be here, and he had focused his attentions on the Green Knight... Leaving Lancelot blissfully, silently alone in the dark. For now...

Lancelot couldn't explain why the sound of Gawain's agonized cries made his chest clench in grief, why he wished he could scream instead, why he knew in his heart that to spare the Green Knight the pain he, the Weeping Monk would not hestitate to take it all... Yet he could not. And to ask for that would be to betray a weakness, to show these bastards that hurting Gawain hurt him too.

To show anything other than apathy in the face of Gawain's torture would be to give their torturers another way to break them both...

He stayed silent and listened.

So it was, that the sound of Gawain's agony that succeeded in keeping Lancelot grounded against his memories for the hours upon hours that continued, no longer a boy, no longer dreaming, listening in helplessness to the one man he trusted succumb to the same tortures that had broken him before and would surely do so again...

All he could do was wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[dailyworldecho]

[nigelgraz]

First time painting a portrait with oils so obv i chose Alucard to be my model <3

[newsbites]

A South African fugitive who faked his own death in a prison break that embarrassed the authorities has been extradited from Tanzania and returned to prison, the government said on Thursday.

Thabo Bester, convicted of rape and murder, escaped from a privately run prison in Bloemfontein in May last year – but South African police only found out last month and launched a manhunt.

Bester was believed to have died after setting himself on fire behind bars, but in late March, police said an autopsy revealed that the person found dead in his cell had died from blunt force trauma to the head before being set ablaze.

A murder investigation has been opened.

[snapscube]

pella world

[medakakurokami]

[whumpshaped]

forever thinking about recapture

whumpee getting grabbed on their way home and dragged into a car thats hauntingly familiar

whumpee getting chloroformed again while a familiar voice is telling them to relax

or alternatively "did you really think i'd let you run?"

whumpee realising their home has been broken into and finding a threatening message somewhere. even just a found you scribbled on the wall

whumpee attacked while they're fumbling with the key to get inside, then promptly shoved inside the apartment and being tied up in their own bedroom

whumpee approached in a public setting, frozen in fear and unable to alert anyone because they know whumper has the ability to cause a bloodbath and they don't want to get innocent civilians involved

whumpee approached in a public setting and whumper showing them a photo of a tied up caretaker in a room that has served as whumpee's prison for months. "how about a trade?"

whumpee waking up in a familiar cell, having panic attack after panic attack, sobbing and screaming their throat raw because this can't be happening again

whumpee going docile and quiet as soon as they realise what's happening, their conditioning kicking in to protect them

"i'm so glad you still remember me"

"you haven't forgotten your manners, have you?"

"i heard you went to therapy, hm? i hope they haven't stuffed your head full of too many lies"

whumper bringing out their most common torture instrument. "for old times' sake"

caretaker realising that whumpee didn't send them their daily text, the one they agreed on specifically so they'd know whumpee was okay

whumpee not picking up the phone for the third time

whumper picking up whumpee's phone. "oh, thank goodness whumpee, i thought-" "i'm awfully sorry, they're a bit preoccupied at the moment." caretaker can hear whumpee's muffled cries and screams in the background

caretaker arriving home and finding the apartment ransacked and empty

caretaker finding a letter from whumper. "thanks for watching them while i was dealing with the police <3"

caretaker finding a stack of photos of whumpee being subdued in their own apartment

[ianime0]

Code Geass Dakkan no Roze | Ep9 | Nunnally, Arthur and Suzaku

[ydotome]

Do you desire power? The power of the king will condemn you to solitude. It will drive away those most precious to you. - Code Geass Dakkan no Roze - Episode 3

[deathberi]

L.L. & C.C. | Code Geass: Rozé of the Recapture