#robyn berlund

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Hi! I've started with a story about my idea with the executioner-caretaker. You'd like to read it? I'll try to post it here to you:

When Gode Johansson entered the cell, he realised that this assignment would not be easy for him. The realisation did not come unprepared, the wardens had warned him:

"He's still young," they had said, "And he's handsome."

When Johansson saw his "assignment", as he used to call the prisoners in his charge, he knew what they meant. The prisoner's papers said something about twenty-three years old, but he looked much younger. Seventeen or eighteen would have been Johansson's guess. Slim, with a narrow face. Comely, boyish features, light brown hair and dark blue eyes that now looked at him questioningly. Johansson straightened his back and closed the door behind him.

"Robyn Berlund?"

His voice sounded harsher than he had intended. The young man nodded silently. Johansson stepped closer. What he had to say now was not easy for him. He took one deep breath.

"I came to explain the procedure to you..."

The noise of the opening door interrupted him. A man in a white lab coat and a brown leather bag entered the cell. Johansson stepped back. He knew what was coming now. The man in white walked towards the plank bed. His voice was calm and polite:

"Please take off your top!"

The boy looked first at the doctor and then at Johansson in confusion. The executioner nodded and the prisoner slowly obeyed. Johansson watched as the doctor shoved the fever thermometer into the boy's mouth, auscultated him and then examined him thoroughly. Finally he took the thermometer, had a quick look at the scale, then he nodded.

"Yes," he remarked briefly, "he is healthy. Everything can be done as planned."

He packed up his instruments and left the cell. The boy slipped his prison shirt back on and looked at Johansson in confusion.

"What ... does he mean?"

The executioner did not return the look.

"The rules, you know," he explained as calmly as he could, "It is not allowed to execute people who are ill here. Execution is suspended in such cases until they are well again." 

"God!"

The boy buried his face in both hands in horror. Johansson came closer.

"I will now explain the rest of the procedure to you," he began again, "Has the priest been here to see you?"

The young prisoner nodded slightly.

"And they have brought you your last meal too." The executioner glanced at the untouched tray.

"Yes," Robyn Berlund's voice was just a hoarse whisper, "but ... I just couldn't eat. I just couldn't ... I'm sorry."

Johansson turned back to the boy. Although he had explained the following many times, he was now struggling with the words.

"The - preparations are not finished yet. So you still have some time. Maybe to write a letter to someone..."

The boy shook his head.

"There is nothing left to write - to anyone."

Johansson remained silent. It was not the first time that a family had completely disengaged from their convicted relative and cut off all contact. The boy's soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Will it ... ache a lot?"

He didn't know for sure. Nor had he ever thought about it. Finally he shook his head.

"No. It's too fast to feel anything."

The boy bit his lips and swallowed hard. His face was as white as a sheet. His gaze went through and through the executioner.

"When the bell from the prison chapel starts to strike, everything is ready," he continued. "Two of the wardens will come for you. You'll make it easier for yourself if you do what they say right away, then they won't have to force you. They will ask you to take off your shirt. One of them will restrain your hands behind your back. After that, one of them will cut your hair a little..."

The boy stared at him, startled. Tears were shimmering in his eyes now.

"Not much," Johansson reassured him, "Just a little on the back of your neck. It ... it will go easier if the neck is completely free, you know..."

The young prisoner did not reply.

"They will take you to the room at the other end of the corridor," Johansson continued calmly. "I will then be responsible for the rest. I will help you go down onto your knees - and show you which way to lay your head, before..."

The boy pressed his hand on his mouth with a choke. He jumped up, rushed to the bucket next to the door and threw up.

The executioner approached hesitantly. He bent over the young prisoner and held his head. Robyn Berlund vomited again and again. Cold sweat ran between Johansson's fingers. The boy's gasping breath sounded almost like sobs, interrupted now and then by a low whimper. When nothing more came up, the executioner carefully helped him up and led - no, virtually dragged - him back to the bench. He carefully wiped the boy’s forehead, cheeks and mouth with his handkerchief.

"I'm sorry," his voice was almost gentle now, "I ... I shouldn't have told you that last part..."

The boy did not reply. His breathing was gasping and intermittent and his face was pale as death. A wet trail ran all down his cheek. Johansson stood up and filled some water into the dented enamel cup that stood on the table.

"Here, drink this. It’ll make you feel a little better."

The young prisoner drank hastily. He was shaking all over. Johansson impulsively put his hand on his shoulder. The boy flinched.

"You are shivering so much - are you cold?"

Johansson did not know himself why he said that. Robyn Berlund sat before him, mute with fear and shaken with horror, looking at him distraught. The executioner took the coarse woollen blanket that lay at the foot of the cot. He sat down next to the boy and carefully put the blanket around his shoulders. For a while, only the prisoner's trembling, intermittent breathing could be heard. For a moment it occurred to Johansson that what he was doing was sheer madness. The wisest thing to do now would be to get up and leave the convict to one of the wardens. He didn't. It was almost as if a strong, invisible force was holding him back. A low, suppressed wail snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Boy?"

"I'm sorry..." Robyn Berlund's voice trembled and he could clearly be heard fighting tears.

"It's okay." Johansson thought for a while. "You ... you don't have to be fully conscious - when it happens..." he continued hesitantly, "There is a remedy I could give you. When the time comes, you will be dazed - enough to be indifferent to what is happening around you. I ... if you can stand it on your own for a few moments, I can get you the remedy..."

(To be continued...) Kind regards, Nancy

(based on this post!)

!! you wrote it!! :0 OMG It's so good!! Save him!!

[crazynancy1989]

#Robyn Berlund: Leaving him alone in his cell, having mortal fear, for his execution (by hatchet) will be in less than one hour. His caretaker, who comforted him for his last hours, has went away and Robyn doesn't know if he'd ever return. He has to hear two wardens in front of his cell-door, which are happily talking about how painful and frightful an execution like this will be. #Maurice: Is kidnapped, deplaced on a ship and forced to hard labor. When he gehts injured by an accident, his hands have to been attended with alcohol and iodine. But one of the injuries gets infected and Maurice, who doesn't want to be seen as a "sissy", doesn't tell. One day he collapses with fever...

Reblog and put in the tags the worst thing you've done to your OC(s)

[crazynancy1989]

Robyn and Johansson - continue... A large, heavy hand grabbed the back of his neck and forced him to lean forward. Robyn pressed his lips together tightly. Don't cry out, he thought desperately, don't... and cried out. Two hands grabbed him by the shoulders, yanked him up, shook him roughly.... "Stop screaming!" His cries became desperate whimpers. The next moment he received a slap on the cheek - strong, but not brutal. The voice now sounded concerned... "Boy! Come on, wake up!" Robyn jerked his eyes open with difficulty. Bending over him was Johansson - the executioner - no one else was in the room... Robyn let himself sink back onto the mattress with a low wail and buried his face in both arms. A large, strong hand rested gently on his back. "Did you have such a horrible dream?" Robyn nodded mutely. He sat up slowly and looked around. A small, windowless room. Sparsely furnished, though someone had obviously gone to great lengths to make everything look as cosy as possible. In one corner a washing dish and a bucket with a lid, in the other a stove. Two armchairs, a small table and the resting bed on which he sat. Lots of pillows - and draped curtains in front of non-existent windows and doors. "Where am I?" he asked quietly. "In safety."

(to be continued...)

@warmblanketwhump

@whump-it

@gottawhump

@pepperonyscience

@kerryrenaissance

#robyn berlund#johansson#execution

Blaze

4 notes

[crazynancy1989]

Hmhhh... let me think... Robyn and Johansson My model for Robyn Berlund was a young actor and songwriter with a radiant smile, looking much younger than he actually was when the photo was taken. Although this wasn't his real name, he just looked as if "Robyn" was a perfect name for him. And Robyn with a "y", because the spelling was as unusual as the whole young man on the photo is. The Family-Name "Berlund" is taken from a Norsk book on the shelf near my desk "Marikken" (in USA: "Mischievous Meg"): I was searching for a good name for a medic and the family's doctor in the book also was named "Berglund". I cut out the "g" and had my medic's name... Gode Johansson - I really can't remember, how I got to the family name, but the first name "Gode" is a short form of "Godefrey" which was the first name of an executioner from Hamburg - a town near the village I live. He executed a pirate, who was very famous here, so his name stayed remembered. Ingvar and Jacoba Berlund - I found their first names on a list with Scandinavian names (I just love Scandinavia, so I settle many of my stories there!). Ingvar got his name also a little bit as an hommage to a similar sounding Movie-Maker: Ingmar Bergmann in whose movie "Fanny and Alexander" the two children are rescued in a similar way as Robyn: smuggled out in a wooden box. The model for Jacoba Berlund was the photo of one of my friends aunt. She looked a little like Jackie Kennedy and so I choosed the Scandinavian form of "Jackie": Jacoba. For Robyn's siblings - Svante and Brigid - I also choosed two names of the list: unusual enough to fit to the name "Robyn" but usual enough to keep them in mind. Coroner Franssen got his name from a kid-novel I found in a public book-box (take a book to own it and replace it with another one): "Little Spys". In the book Franssen is the landlord of the hero (which also will later on appear in my story), but has no embarrassing secrets at all. In my current "plot-bunny" - a pirate-story I picked up half written and (with permission of the author) went on writing - named "To the far north": Three of my OCs are based on one of my favorite-bands (also Scandinavian) and I looked for names, fitting to their appearance: Kjell, the pirate-cook (based on the front-man - I just can't imagine this man in a naval battle, so I sent him into the kitchen, think he'd like that better): just took the first name of one of his siblings and changed it a little. Done! Sture, a pirate (based on the keyboarder) - just needed a strong-sounding name for a really tall and strong man. I've choosen the first name from the husband of my favorite Author. Pontus, a pirate (based on the guitarist) - how could I name a bony man with a peaked face and big, round eyes in it? Let me take a look on the list... - well, yes, I think, "Pontus" might fit... Yann, the pirate's doctor - is based on the healer that the band (rumour has it) carries with them on their travels. I used his real first name, but changed the spelling a lot. He does so much for them - especially for "Kjell", so I think, it's just fair to mention him in my story as well. Kind regards, Nancy

For those with whump OCs, comment/reblog with their names and why you chose those names (if there was any particular reason) 

I’m curious about the naming process

[crazynancy1989]

"Will it ... ache a lot?"

He didn't know for sure. Nor had he ever thought about it. Finally he shook his head.

"No. It's too fast to feel anything."

The boy bit his lips and swallowed hard. His face was as white as a sheet. His gaze went through and through the executioner.

"When the bell from the prison chapel starts to strike, everything is ready," he continued. "Two of the wardens will come for you. You'll make it easier for yourself if you do what they say right away, then they won't have to force you. They will ask you to take off your shirt. One of them will restrain your hands behind your back. After that, one of them will cut your hair a little..."

The boy stared at him, startled. Tears were shimmering in his eyes now.

"Not much," Johansson reassured him, "Just a little on the back of your neck. It ... it will go easier if the neck is completely free, you know..."

The young prisoner did not reply.

"They will take you to the room at the other end of the corridor," Johansson continued calmly. "I will then be responsible for the rest. I will help you go down onto your knees - and show you which way to lay your head, before..."

The boy pressed his hand on his mouth with a choke. He jumped up, rushed to the bucket next to the door and threw up. The executioner approached hesitantly. He bent over the young prisoner and held his head. Robyn Berlund vomited again and again. Cold sweat ran between Johansson's fingers. The boy's gasping breath sounded almost like sobs, interrupted now and then by a low whimper. When nothing more came up, the executioner carefully helped him up and led - no, virtually dragged - him back to the bench. He carefully wiped the boy’s forehead, cheeks and mouth with his handkerchief.

"I'm sorry," his voice was almost gentle now, "I ... I shouldn't have told you that last part..."

(to be continued)

@whump-it

[crazynancy1989]

Is there a taglist for Robyn Berlund and if so please may I be on it!

I'm completely new on tumblr, so I don't really know, what a taglist is - please tell me more about it and how I could install one! Kind regards, Nancy

[crazynancy1989]

The executioner and the whumpee

Continuation of yesterday...

"I came to explain the procedure to you..."

The noise of the opening door interrupted him. A man in a white lab coat and a brown leather bag entered the cell. Johansson stepped back. He knew what was coming now. The man in white walked towards the plank bed. His voice was calm and polite:

"Please take off your top!"

The boy looked first at the doctor and then at Johansson in confusion. The executioner nodded and the prisoner slowly obeyed. Johansson watched as the doctor shoved the fever thermometer into the boy's mouth, auscultated him and then examined him thoroughly. Finally he took the thermometer, had a quick look at the scale, then he nodded.

"Yes," he remarked briefly, "he is in good condition. Everything can be done as planned."

He packed up his instruments and left the cell. The boy slipped his prison shirt back on and looked at Johansson in confusion.

"What ... does he mean?"

The executioner did not return the look.

"The rules, you know," he explained as calmly as he could, "It is not allowed to execute people who are ill here. Execution is suspended in such cases until they are well again." 

"God!"

The boy buried his face in both hands in horror. Johansson came closer.

"I will now explain the rest of the procedure to you," he began again, "Has the priest been here to see you?"

The young prisoner nodded slightly.

"And they have brought you your last meal too." The executioner glanced at the untouched tray.

"Yes," Robyn Berlund's voice was just a hoarse whisper, "but ... I just couldn't eat. I just couldn't ... I'm sorry."

Johansson turned back to the boy. Although he had explained the following many times, he was now struggling with the words:

"The - preparations are not finished yet. So you still have some time. Maybe to write a letter to someone..."

The boy shook his head.

"There is nothing left to write - to anyone."

Johansson remained silent. It was not the first time that a family had completely disengaged from their convicted relative and cut off all contact. The boy's soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Will it ... ache a lot?"

He didn't know for sure. Nor had he ever thought about it. Finally he shook his head.

"No. It's too fast to feel anything."

(to be continued...)

[crazynancy1989]

Robyn and Johansson - continue

Robyn closed his eyes and gave himself over to the pleasant heaviness that took possession of him. From very far away he heard a bell striking. A soft, tender, silent darkness wrapped itself around him and took him in...

The door to the cell opened and two men in warden's uniforms entered. One of them held a rope in his hand, the other a pair of scissors. The executioner looked up and shook his head with a solemn expression.

"Don't..." he said only, "...please. It's over - he's just about done with it."

His fingers were on Robyn's wrist, as if checking for a pulse.

"And how - pray tell - did this happen?" The voice of the one warden was as sharp as a razor. "After all, the doctor still confirmed that the prisoner was in good health. How could he suddenly..."

The executioner shrugged his shoulders.

"What do I know about such things? Maybe it was the fear - or he was sick after all and no one noticed. The coroner will figure it out."

The coroner. Here in town, it was an elderly man named Franssen. Gode Johansson knew him only casually, but well enough to know a few things, that could become useful to him now....

The guards left and shortly after pushed a small cart into the cell, on which stood a roughly carpentered wooden coffin. This coffin had been waiting earlier in the room at the other end of the corridor. It would have been one of the last things Robyn Berlund would have seen in his short life... Johansson felt a chill run down his back as he realized this. He waited another two or three minutes, then released the boy's hand and pulled the blanket over his face. He stood up and opened the coffin lid.

The layer of straw in the coffin was thin; you could see the bare wood in between. Johansson walked over to the cot and curtly wrapped Robyn in the woollen blanket.

"This is prison property!" one of the guards protested. The executioner snorted through his nose sharply.

"I'll bring it back, after all - along with the clothes."

Gode Johansson carefully piccked up the lifeless bundle of human being and carefully laid it into the coffin. He hastily glanced over at the attendants and loosened the blanket at the head end a little. Fortunately, the way was not far, he thought, as he closed the lid. And fortunately, the coffins for the prisoners were so carelessly knocked together that there were enough slits and gaps for air... The executioner took a deep breath.

"Ready for transport," was all he said. The two guards pushed the cart with the coffin out of the cell. Johansson followed them slowly.

(to be continued...)

@whump-it @gottawhump @pepperonyscience

#robyn berlund#johansson#whumpee x caretaker#execution

[crazynancy1989]

Update...

Just trying to figure out the next continue for Robyn Berlund, his family and Gode Johanssen. Meanwhile a little sketch for the beginning of an other story (whump not just excluded...):

Ark without mercy

"Of course you're going!" I had told him, and I had meant it. We both knew what was coming for us - what was coming for the entire country, the entire earth. The signs had been clear for a long time, and not just to my smarter-than-average brother. "They specifically said you should come," I had said, "Of course you're going!" "And you?" My brother's voice had sounded defiant, "What about you? I'm not leaving you alone and I stand by that!" "I'll be fine," I had asserted, and we had both known that was a lie - almost a lie, because I had made provisions for the worst-case scenario that my brother had no idea about. Of course he went. The clincher were his two friends who had also been on the passenger list. If my brother hadn't gone, they would have been taken off the list. When my brother found out, he went to the phone, pale and frozen, and called a cab…. "Don't worry about me," I had told him again as we parted, "I'm much more worried about you!" And that was even true: my brother, at sea, for who knows how long, without everything he loved so much and was not happy without - his garden, his plants, his animals - how long would he endure without despairing? As the water ran over the doorstep of our house, I took the pills that had been laying in my nightstand drawer for days. I would expect him over there - I thought. A mistake, as it turned out…

Do you think, this might be worth to be continued one day? The sister is turning into a ghost after her dead because of her worry about her beloved brother. Her Ghost follows him on the ship and has to watch helplessly the fate of him and the other survivors...

[crazynancy1989]

When Gode Johansson entered the cell, he realised that this assignment would not be easy for him. The realisation did not come unprepared, the wardens had warned him:

"He's still young," they had said, "And he's handsome."

When Johansson saw his "assignment", as he used to call the prisoners in his charge, he knew what they meant. The prisoner's papers said something about twenty-three years old, but he looked much younger. Seventeen or eighteen would have been Johansson's guess. Slim, with a narrow face. Comely, boyish features, light brown hair and dark blue eyes that now looked at him questioningly. Johansson straightened his back and closed the door behind him.

"Robyn Berlund?"

His voice sounded harsher than he had intended. The young man nodded silently. Johansson stepped closer. What he had to say now was not easy for him. He took one deep breath.

"I came to explain the procedure to you..." Shall I go on writing? Kind regards, Nancy

A young (and innocent) man, awaiting his execution by beheading. The executioner tries to prepare him for the following things - but when he sees and realizes his "client's" fear, he turns into a caretaker, comforting and supporting him - Whumpee ist confused: he knows, this man is the one who'll take his life - but all the same he feels confusingly safe at him. Finally hangman is giving whumpee a sleeping-draft which makes him seem like dead, to get him out of jail without injuries. Whumpee doesn't know: he thinks it is a lethal poison. But he is too exhausted and to tired to fear. He's just thankful, to sleep into dead, while his caretaker is with him...

This is such a great concept!!😍 Executioner-turned-caretaker. I LOVE it!

[crazynancy1989]

Robyn Berlund - continue...

"I'm sorry," his voice was almost gentle now, "I ... I shouldn't have told you that last part..."

The boy did not reply. His breathing was gasping and intermittent and his face was pale as death. A wet trail ran all down his cheek. Johansson stood up and filled some water into the dented enamel cup that stood on the table.

"Here, drink this. It’ll make you feel a little better."

The young prisoner drank hastily. He was shaking all over. Johansson impulsively put his hand on his shoulder. The boy flinched.

"You are shivering so much - are you cold?"

Johansson did not know himself why he said that. Robyn Berlund sat before him, mute with fear and shaken with horror, looking at him distraught. The executioner took the coarse woollen blanket that lay at the foot of the cot. He sat down next to the boy and carefully put the blanket around his shoulders. For a while, only the prisoner's trembling, intermittent breathing could be heard. For a moment it occurred to Johansson that what he was doing was sheer madness. The wisest thing to do now would be to get up and leave the convict to one of the wardens. He didn't. It was almost as if a strong, invisible force was holding him back. A low, suppressed wail snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Boy?"

"I'm sorry..." Robyn Berlund's voice trembled and he could clearly be heard fighting tears.

"It's okay." Johansson thought for a while. "You ... you don't have to get through it fully conscious - when it happens..." he continued hesitantly, "There is a remedy I could give you. When … the time comes, you will be dazed - enough to be indifferent to what is happening around you. I ... if you can stand it on your own for a few moments, I can get you the remedy..."

The boy took a few shaky breaths in and out. Then he nodded.

"Yes - please." Johansson got up and left the room. Robyn Berlund watched him go.

(to be continued...)

@whump-it