#russian captivity

[folklorespring]

"I dream of living to see the POW exchange of my grandson"

Don't forget about people russia keeps captive, russian captivity kills!

[panimoonchild]

Our people come back home

The 53rd exchange, which began on June 25 with the release of 90 Ukrainian defenders, has been completed today.

Ukraine managed to return 10 civilians who had been illegally detained in the occupied territories and Belarus.

Here is a brief description of those who returned home:

▪️ Nikolay Shvets was accused by the Belarusian authorities of blowing up a Russian A-50 long-range radar detection aircraft at the airfield in Machulishchi.

▪️ Valeriy Matyushenko was detained by the occupiers in the Donetsk region in July 2017. For some time, he was held in the Donetsk torture chamber "Izolyatsia", and later he was sentenced to 10 years in prison. In August last year, the Ombudsman wrote that Matyushenko's health condition was critical and the man needed to be released immediately.

▪️ UGCC priests Ivan Levitsky and Bohdan Geleta were detained by the occupation authorities in Berdiansk in November 2022. After the full-scale invasion, they remained in the temporarily occupied territory, where they continued to hold services for the faithful. The Russians accused the priests of illegal possession of weapons.

▪️ Olena Pekh is an art historian and researcher at the Horlivka Art Museum. She has been in Russian captivity since August 2018. In March 2020, she was sentenced to 13 years in prison.

- Don't cry, my daughter. I'm already in Ukraine, such nice guys met me and gave me a bouquet of flowers.

❤️‍🩹🫂

[dontforgetukraine]

At the Venice Film Festival, director Olha Zhurba & team wear clothes embroidered with distances from Venice to Russian detention sites holding Ukrainian POWs. The message: The world must expose brutal realities of Russian captivity & stand against these atrocities.

Sources: Euromaidan Press, Olha Zhurba FB

[foreverinthepagesofhistoryy]

❧ The four children of Tsar Nicholas II who remained at Tobolsk while their parents and sister Maria set off for Yekaterinburg, May 1918

From left to right: Anastasia, Tatiana (back), Alexei, and Olga ☙

[propalahramota]

[krasivaa]

Grand Duchess Tatiana Nikolaevna Romanova in captivity in Tsarskoe Selo, Russia, April 1917. 💔💘

[serickswrites]

John Mclane

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, gun, gunfire

Team Leader couldn't believe they had failed their team so significantly. Couldn't believe they had let Whumper get the drop on them all as they had fallen for the trap. Couldn't believe they now had to watch Whumper hurt their team. There was nothing Team Leader could do.

Whumper walked between Teammate One and Two, waving a gun in the air as they spoke. "I could just shoot them, make you watch as they bleed out."

"NO!" Team Leader strained against the rope that kept them in the chair.

Whumper chuckled as the stopped next to Smallest Teammate. "So sensitive." They carded their fingers through Smallest Teammate's hair. Smallest Teammate's eyes were wide with terror.

"Please, I--" Smallest Teammate began, but their words were cut off as Whumper shoved a gun in their mouth.

"WHUMPER STOP!" Team Leader roared.

Whumper smirked. "I will, this is getting kind of boring. Shall I just shoot them all and be done?"

"Please," Team Leader begged, "I can make it interesting. Please."

"The only thing that interests me, Team Leader is watching you suffer." Whumper moved to circle Teammate Two once more. "Perhaps there is a way to make it fun for all of us." They spun around and stared at Team Leader. "Shall we play a game?"

"Yes, please, just don't hurt them."

Whumper opened the cartridge of the revolver. They removed four of the six bullets. As they spun the cartridge, they smiled, "Let's play a little Russian Roulette. But with higher stakes. Two bullets instead of one."

"Whumper, please--"

"Team Leader, I'm giving you a chance to save your team. Two of you will walk away. Maybe even three if you play your cards right."

"Whumper, I can't let you--"

Whumper silenced Team Leader as they pointed the gun at Teammate One's head. "I could just end it now. Don't you want a chance for them to live?"

"Yes, yes, please. Whumper, just shoot me." Team Leader ignored the horrified looks on their team's faces. If Whumper wanted someone to die, it was better that they die.

Whumper frowned. "There's no fun in that. You'll get a turn in between each team member, Team Leader. Don't worry." And before Team Leader could protest, Whumper pulled the trigger. It clicked empty. Teammate One sagged with relief.

Team Leader sighed. Teammate One was safe and would make it out of here. Whumper walked over to Team Leader and shoved the gun to Team Leader's temple. "Your turn, though it would be a shame if you died before the rest of the players."

Team Leader closed their eyes, making their peace with the universe should it be their time to die. But the gun clicked empty.

Whumper laughed. "Good, I want you to stick around to the end."

Teammate Two looked up at Whumper rather than at Team Leader when Whumper put the gun beneath their jaw. "I will fucking end you," they spat in Whumper's face.

"If the odds are in your favor," Whumper said as they pulled the trigger. The gun clicked empty once more. "You are lucky, Teammate Two."

Whumper walked towards Team Leader once more as they took aim. "Let's see if lady luck smiles on you, Team Leader." They squeezed the trigger. The gun clicked empty one final time. "Two bullets in a row left. Oh Smallest Teammate you are the winner of tonight's game!"

Team Leader's mouth went dry as they realized that the next shot would surely kill whoever Whumper took aim at. "Whumper, wait! Please! I want another turn. Please, give me another turn!"

Whumper stopped as they carded their fingers through Smallest Teammate's hair once more. They pressed the gun to Smallest Teamate's temple. "Why would I let you cheat like that?"

"Because I'll suffer. You want to see me suffer! You don't have to shoot me in the head. You can shoot me somewhere else. Watch me bleed to death."

Whumper considered for a moment. Team Leader's heart froze in their chest as Whumper shook their head. "Why do that when I can watch you suffer over the loss of you beloved teammate? Then I can shoot you so you bleed out slowly."

"Whumper, please. Please. Shoot me." Team Leader blinked back tears as they tried desperately to convince Whumper to kill them.

"All in good time." And they pulled the trigger once more.

[that-is-who-you-are]

«Another exchange of prisoners took place: Ukraine returned 100 people from russian captivity»— Head of the Office of the President.

Among them also Valeriia Karpylenko from "Azovstal",whose husband, Andrii Subotin, unfortunately was killed just three days after their wedding:

The Coordinating Headquarters for the Treatment of Prisoners of War reported that 80 men and 20 women were released. Nine are officers, all the rest are privates and sergeants.

Almost half of them are seriously injured, sick or have been tortured. The youngest is 19 years old.

[capturedukrainians]

Region: Zaporizhzhia Settlement: Priazovske Full name: Yuliya Viktorivna Radeva Date of birth: 07/06/1982 Circumstance: On August 20, 2023, she was abducted from the house by FSB officers

https://t.me/poshuk_znyklyh/37364

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Winners

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

For @amonthofwhump Day 8: John Mclane | Held Hostage | Russian Roulette | Forced to Watch | Comfort: Rescue

CW: Murder most foul, very brief gore, captivity, whumper POV, sadistic whumper, referenced shock collar and noncon (brief)

As always, Jax Gallagher belongs to @comfy-whumpee and is used with their permission and input

-

When Isaac Marcoset holds out his hand, his steward is already stepping forward to give him the gun. 

He smiles, closing his fingers around the familiar grip, custom-built for larger hands, his fingers weighed down with rings. It feels like simply an extension of his limb. The family heirloom has been with the Marcosets since the 19th century, handed down from father to son as each took over as the head of the family business.

It’s a beautiful gun.

“Everything is ready?” He asks, already knowing the answer. The question isn’t for the steward’s benefit, or for his own - it’s for the benefit of the three unlucky men sitting at the table. 

Their eyes are on him, and Isaac is truly in his element in moments like this - he is the power and force in the room. It’s his whim they’ll all be subjected to, and not all of them will survive. None of them deserve to, granted, but Isaac enjoys the occasional extension of mercy. It makes his cruelties stand out all the more. 

“Yes, Master Isaac,” His steward replies, quietly unobtrusive. He was brought in as a young man and has been with the family for nearly two decades, a creature of perfect loyalty for the family that owns him. 

Unlike the man his niece insists on keeping, who Isaac has more or less been forced to keep track of while Savvie is out of town yet again on a tour.

That irritating creature doesn’t get a seat at the table, and Isaac doesn’t like the way he seems capable of befriending all the staff of the house so quickly. He’s keeping Jax close this time around, even if the man is nearly unbearably annoying.

Jax, the slave his niece lost and he recaptured for her and who she is definitely fucking now - disgusting, but Savvie has always been headstrong and stubborn. She denies it, of course, but the loathsome man himself has been perfectly happy to elaborate unnecessarily and in the crudest of terms as to what is going on at Savvie’s home at least three nights a week these days. If he says the words ‘sex slave’ one more time, Isaac’s going to duct tape his mouth shut and leave him in the stables until Savvie comes back.

In any case, his niece’s erstwhile kidnapped lover has been given a place against the wall and told not to move a muscle or say a fucking word unless he wants his arm broken again. He isn’t here because he deserves to be, but because he is a living example to the other men of what the Marcoset family can do to those who displease them. 

He’s a walking example of a fate worse than death. 

Based on the flat, empty look on his face, he’s well aware of it, too.

Isaac was in a foul mood earlier, and the asshole Englishman has plenty of bruises now to prove it, although he’s calmer now. Nothing soothes a bad day better than punching Jax in the stomach just to see him double over in pain. Savvie’s irritating attachment to the man is the only reason he’s even allowed to live after all the trouble he’s caused. Isaac kills runaways who aren’t useful, and he assumes Jax must have at least three brain cells working, since he seems to know that Savvie is the only reason Isaac didn’t simply leave his body in his father’s apartment to be found shortly before he murdered the father, too.

No, it was Savvie's insistence that Jax be brought back to her, and the father be left alive.

But... Savvie isn’t here for him to simper at and hide behind, not now. He's utterly at Isaac's mercy, and he's smart enough to know Isaac has very, very little mercy at all. 

“Good man,” Isaac murmurs to the steward, tipping the gun this way and that, giving it some thought. This, too, is for the benefit of the three men at the table, who look increasingly uneasy with every passing moment. 

At least they aren’t stupid enough to start yelling or begging again. He’d just kill all of them if they gave him another headache.

The steward steps back and folds his hands behind his back, standing next to the place Jax has been told to remain. Isaac doesn’t see the way that the steward briefly touches Jax’s shoulder, a sign of sympathy and solidarity - if he had seen it, he’d have beaten the steward within an inch of his life, too. He doesn’t see the way Jax manages a slight, faint half-smile in return before carefully shifting away.

Isaac, instead, is busy gesturing using the gun. “You see that man, gentleman? The one right there next to my steward?”

He watches each of them look at the underfed, overdressed man against the wall, who stares without expression back at them from beneath carefully styled auburn hair. Isaac smiles as their eyes catch on the shock collar tightly locked around his neck, scratchy nylon above the crew neck of his luxurious cashmere sweater.

They look back to Isaac. One of them nods. 

Isaac addresses that one directly. “He’s Marcoset property, bought as a gift for my lovely niece. Then… he ran away from her. He dared. He had his daddy call the cops and he tried to put my niece in prison.”

The second man - the one in the middle - clears his throat and then hesitantly asks, “He… did put her in prison, though, right?”

Behind him, there’s a noise. Isaac glances back, but Jax’s face is exactly the same, no sign of a smile or the huff of laughter Isaac thinks he heard. He turns back to the men. “Yes,” He acknowledges. “She did go to prison. For quite some time. But then… she was released.” He checks the chamber of the gun, idly. One bullet, six spaces. 

Isaac spins the chamber and smiles at the satisfying clicking sound it makes. Honestly, this is his favorite gun, even if it isn’t the one he uses most often. Although this pistol has killed a lot of people since his grandfather first bought it.

He clears his throat. “Once she was out, I recovered him for her. Brought him back to where he belongs. Brought him back to my niece’s loving embrace.” He pauses, but Jax has no quippy little reply for this. No, he seems to be smart enough to know this isn’t the time to push his luck. “No one runs away from the Marcosets. No one. He tried - he was gone for years - and we still tracked him down and brought him back. He won’t run again. Will you, Jax?”

Jax doesn’t answer. Refuses to play along with Isaac's game.

Isaac will make sure he regrets that later. 

Savvie never minds a few new bruises, as long as her little slave can still do whatever she wants, whenever she wants him to do it. As long as he’s still able to obey, and fuck her, and tell her she’s pretty. As long as she can still tell herself he loves her. His niece is not stupid - well, in some ways she is... but she is primarily delusional.

Isaac knows better than to poke holes in that delusion.

Besides, the idiot creature makes her happy. 

He moves on. “Now, each of the three of you is a known associate of someone who ran away from a Marcoset,” Isaac continues, as if Jax had played his part. “Each of you provided that runaway with invaluable assistance. Each of you was exposed by said runaway once we recovered them. Three men sit at this table. Two will leave here alive, with my simple suggestion that you not aid a runaway from Marcoset family properties again.”

Isaac would tower over everyone else even if all of them were standing - he’s tall, and more than that, he has the Marcoset build of muscle trending towards bulk. He owns every room he walks into, impossible to ignore.

“Let’s play, shall we?"

With the gun loosely held in one hand, he walks slowly behind the first man. The lights catch the clammy sweat on the man’s face, making his dark blond hair brown around all the edges where it’s damp. His breathing is an audible rasp as he gasps in and out. 

“Oh god,” The man whispers. “Oh god, oh god, oh god… Please, pl-please, please no… oh god-”

Isaac smiles. “You gave a safe place to sleep for someone who ran from my oldest son Brayden,” Isaac rumbles, enjoying the man’s clear terror. “We brought her back to him, and he has ensured she will not run again. Frankly, she’s lucky we only cut the tendon on one leg.”

Against the wall, his steward remains expressionless. Jax glares up at the ceiling, hands behind his back. Isaac is sure he has them closed into fists, and wonders how often the man dreams about hitting him. Isaac glances over, smiling slightly at the sight. 

He raises the gun and presses the barrel against the back of the first man’s head, listening to his soft whimper. “Please,” The man whispers one more time. Tears stand in his red-rimmed eyes. The chair creaks.  “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t kn-know, she l-l-lied to me-” The man’s voice trembles with his fear, and Isaac sighs, as if disappointed in it. “I-I didn’t know!”

“Yes, you did,” He says simply, and pulls the trigger.

Click.

The man flinches with a cry, then exhales in a rush when he realizes he’s still alive, and starts weeping openly right there at the table. Isaac catches himself licking his lips, and moves on to the next man before anyone else might notice. 

“You will live. Don’t fuck with the Marcosets again.”

The next one starts begging before he even touches him with the cool metal, jerking forward as if he could escape even though he can’t stand. “Wait, wait, please, please, I didn’t-... I didn’t mean to help anyone! I just, I thought, I thought h-h-he was homeless, is all, I thought-... wait, wait, you don’t have to-... I can pay you, I can… I can pay you-! I have money!”

“I have more money than I could ever use, and spend more on clothes in a month than you could ever have to give me,” Isaac says amiably.

He pulls the trigger.

He’s actually vaguely surprised at the deafening noise and flash when the gun goes off. The man jerks forward, dead before he even knows he’s been shot, blood and bone and brain matter spraying. A few drops hit Jax on the face and he flinches violently. 

Isaac sighs, shaking his head, disappointed. 

The dead man’s leg jerks once, twice, three times, and goes still. 

“Well, that’s no fun,” Isaac murmurs. “Ruins all the tension of the game if the second guy gets the bullet, doesn’t it?” He looks over at the third man’s wild eyes ringed in white. He looks like he can’t decide whether to be frightened or relieved, knowing that the bullet won’t be meant for him. “I was really hoping to get a second round in before it got to one of you. Oh, well. I suppose he’s the loser, and you two men are the winners. Congratulations.”

The first man blinks, as if coming out of a daze, and slowly looks up, shoulders still shaking. “What…?”

“I said, congratulations. You two have an exciting opportunity not to fuck with my family ever again. Thank me for it, or we'll play again."

The third man’s lips are trembling as he manages a weak, “Th-thank y-y-y-you… it, it won’t h-happen again.”

The first man nods frantically. “Yes, it, it won’t happen-... thank you-!”

“Good.” Isaac walks away, crossing the room and stopping by his steward. The first man starts weeping again behind him. 

His steward is unmoved by the carnage - it’s not new to him, after all. But Isaac notes with pleasure that Jax’s face is white and he’s staring at the blood slowly spreading on the table around the dead man’s head, the bits of gray matter mixed in. The man's breathing sounds shallow and fast. 

Isaac leans in. “You two can handle cleaning up this mess?”

“Yes, Master Isaac,” His steward says quietly. “We will have this dealt with within the hour and the two living men will be removed from your property.”

“Good man.” He pauses, then snaps his fingers right in front of Jax’s face. He catches the man’s suppressed flinch as his eyes snap up to Isaac’s. He does so love the way Jax looks when fear overrides his usual anger. “You. Savvie’s little toy. Dinner is in two hours, and your presence is expected. You will be showered and dressed for it by then. Is that understood?”

Jax inhales through his nose. His mouth moves into a smirk, even though his eyes don’t reflect it. He says, in a low voice, “Wouldn’t miss family dinnertime for the world, Uncle Isaac.”

Isaac’s lip curls, hand twitching with the urge to choke the man to death right here and now, but… that would be losing his temper. He won’t do that now, not in front of the two men he very much wants to think of him as a terrifying man in total control. Instead, he just leaves them there, and he hopes Jax understands the message for what it is.

One man died today, just for helping someone get away.

If it weren’t for Savvie being stupidly head-over-heels for the idiot and insisting on not doing anything that might make him hate her - as if he didn’t already… well.

If it weren’t for Savvie's inexplicable obsession with Jax, Jax’s father would have been one of the men at the table, instead.

He still could be. 

-

[folklorespring]

"I accepted the fact that I will never see my father again. I do not believe that he will be released. So few people return from captivity, and I'm not that lucky," says 11-year-old Orysia. Her father went missing almost a year ago. The girl almost doesn't talk about her father and asks not to show photos with him, because she cannot cope with her feelings. Speak about Ukrainians in russian captivity!

[panimoonchild]

Russian obsession with hurting Ukrainians never ends

[dontforgetukraine]

On November 17, another rally in support of captured Ukrainian soldiers was held in the center of Lviv, our journalist reports. Dozens of people came to the rally to call for the military's return from captivity to be accelerated, shouting "Captivity is hell!" and "Captivity kills!". —Hromadske

[foreverinthepagesofhistoryy]

Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna in bed recovering from her bout of measles and double pneumonia, spring 1917

❧ “Maria took her turn, who until now was her mother's greatest support. Even in the first stages of her illness, she hoped that she would be able to avoid staying in bed. She intended to endure until her father returned and she begged Baroness Buxhoeveden not to trouble her mother when she also developed a fever. At last, however, her exhausted nature betrayed her very badly. Along with the measles she suffered double pneumonia and reached the gates of death. In her feverish delirium and nightmares, she saw terrible soldiers who came to kill her mother and she shouted in terror, "Crowds of peopl... dreadful people... they re coming to kill Mamma!! Why are they doing these things?" - Romanov Royal Martyrs ☙

❧ “She was now anxious about Marie Nicolaievna on latter had been taken ill much later than her sisters, condition was aggravated by a severe attack of pneumonia of a virulent kind. Her constitution was excellent, but she had all she could do to survive. ☙ - Pierre Gilliard, 13 Years At The Russian Court

❧ “On 19 March I received a note from the Empress that Maria Nikolaevna is dying and asking for me. The messenger told me that Anastasia Nikolevna is also very sick; both had pneumonia, and the latter also became deaf due to the ear infection…I tiptoed to Maria Nikolaevna. She was lying there, white like linen, her eyes, naturally large, seemed even larger, temperature was 40.9, she breathed oxygen. When she saw me, she made some attempts to pick up her head and started to cry, repeat-ing: "Anya, Anya." I stayed with her until she fell asleep.” ☙ - Anna Vyrubova

❧ “Apparently Maria's and Anastasia's illness broks the tamp remained normal; they are weak and slept all day, of cours with breaks.” ☙ - Tsar Nicholas II diary entry, March 20th 1917

[zelensky-aservantofthepeople]

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[tsivi]

I like when people know random words and phrases and you can trace exactly what fandom is the reason why. Same works for knowing about a lot a particular historic era. Like yeah I know what you are.