#tw arrested

[shes-some-other-where]

June of Doom Day 3, 10, 18, 19

Ambushed | Smoke | Self-defence | “This can’t be happening!”

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Contains: angst, very brief mention of corporal punishment, ambush, arrest, restraints, corrupt guards, fantasy chloroform, knocked out

WC: 940

Burnt sugar and rotting flesh

The stars were coldly curious, just barely visible now that the sun was almost set. The food taster walked the streets with purpose, toward the palace, toward its high walls and iron gates. His feet ached from the countless steps he’d taken that day as he scoured the city for any word of the girl. His bones creaked with fatigue, his head ached with confusion, his throat pinched with thirst, his chest burned with frustration.

How could no one know who she was?

Guilt, too, prickled at his conscience. He shouldn’t have slipped away in secret. Really, he shouldn’t have even considered leaving without permission. After all, he was sworn to bend to his employer’s whims and well-being, no matter how friendly their bond. Worse, sneaking away before dinner meant he was shirking his duties outright. If word of his disobedience reached the governor? Unquestionably, there would be some measure of punishment awaiting him once they returned to the north.

Whatever that turned out to be—withheld wages, a stern warning, a lash or two with a switch—mattered little. Tonight, it was all insignificant.

He promised himself: another hour of searching, and if his efforts still turned up nothing, he would give up.

When he approached the royal palace’s south gate, his steps faltered.

The air . . .

It was different here.

It didn’t reek, exactly, but it was . . . unwelcoming. Magic lay thick and impassable over the iron bars, spikes, and locks—a curse dense enough that the area even appeared unguarded.

Don’t even try, the spell warned.

Ignoring the acrid tang of hostility on his tongue, the food tester pressed his hands to the lock.

The spell holding it together snapped.

He stepped back, mystified but undeniably pleased that it had worked. Palms slick with perspiration, he slid the mechanisms apart, piece by piece.

“Oi! You!”

Perhaps the area was not as undefended as he thought.

The food taster cursed under his breath, jolting away from the broken lock as harsh voices rang through the air.

“Yes . . . ?” he asked, trying to exude an air of bewilderment as a line of soldiers advanced toward him.

Too late, he realized they were shouting his name.

How did they know his name?

Much too late, he considered that his friend’s dire predictions might actually come true.

“Breaking in, were you?” asked the leader. “Caught you red-handed.”

Had they been looking for him? Waiting for him?

“How . . . how do you know me?” he stammered.

His earlier confidence that he might successfully defend himself was downright laughable. Two guards seized his arms, too strong for him to shake off, while the leader rifled through his pockets.

“Hey! Get—get off!”

The leader paid him no heed; he merely smiled in triumph, displaying the girl’s gold charm with a flourish. “Well. I was told I’d catch a thief tonight. Looks like I did.”

“I’m not a thief,” the food taster protested. “I wanted to return it!”

His objections went ignored.

“You’re under arrest,” the leader said, locking a pair of manacles over the food taster’s wrists.

“You can’t arrest me!” he yelped. “I haven’t done anything!”

The guards looked pointedly at the gate’s broken lock.

“Get moving,” said the leader, pushing him forward. A malicious sort of amusement coloured his tone. “Tell it to the . . . courts.”

“But I—”

Someone shoved him again, rattling the chain, and the food taster stumbled, falling silent in defeat.

They hauled him into a dimly lit office, demanding a full confession. The room boasted dusty, windowless walls and cold grey flagstone for a floor. It stank of old magic and suffering.

With his heart in his throat, the food taster repeatedly defended his innocence. More than once, with irritation unchecked and running rampant, a guard slammed his chained hands back to the table or clipped him hard on the ear.

To his great alarm, his explanation of “I wanted to find her and give it back to her; also, I think she might be in grave danger,” appeared to hold very little sway.

“Oh, save it,” said the leader impatiently, “and shut up.” To the other guards, he said coolly, “I’ll handle the rest of this. Leave us.”

Dread washed through the room when the other guards vanished, although the food taster couldn’t have said why.

“I haven’t done anything wrong,” he insisted.

“Honestly? I don’t care.”

The food taster’s mouth dropped open as the guard lifted the statement he had just finished painstakingly recording, holding it tauntingly against a torch set into the wall.

The paper flared into smoke and flame.

“What are you doing?” the food taster cried, struck with horror.

“Well, you see . . .” The guard dropped the charred remains of the parchment to the floor. “Someone wants a word with you. In private.” He lowered his voice. “No trail left behind.”

A sickening scent met his senses in a violent assault: a heavy, cloying smell, like burnt sugar and rotting flesh.

Poison.

Not just any poison. He cursed his too-deep knowledge of the subject, for he knew right away what this poison was for. He knew when that soaked cloth clamped over his nose and his mouth, the pungent chemical would cut off his air and overwhelm his senses, muddying his thoughts and sending him straight into the depths of oblivion.

This can’t be happening.

“No! Don’t—”

The last thing he felt was the guard’s free hand holding him down to quell his struggles.

The last thing he heard was his own panicked, muffled breaths.

The last thing he saw was shackled hands growing slack, and the yellow candlelight fading to impenetrable, unforgiving darkness.

June of Doom Masterlist

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@juneofdoom

All my writing is original. Feel welcome to interact/comment/reblog. Pls don’t steal or repost.

[little-peril-stories]

Febuwhump Day 2 - Solitary Confinement

From Man of Letters:

All the scholar could hear was his own ragged breath. The panicked rasping. The frantic gasp of each intake of air as he tried desperately to regain his senses.

Dead. He’s dead.

They’d thrown him inside, heedless of how his sight failed him and his feet stumbled and scrabbled beneath him. Now he lay motionless, tasting blood, pretending that this was all part of his plan. He didn’t move from where he’d fallen.

He’s dead, and I killed him.

He couldn’t move. He barely wanted to. The deed was done; the choice was made. There was no running, not for him. Not anymore.

The room was quiet, but it was distinctly unlike the soothing peace of the library where he had spent so many hours of his life. This—this was an ominous quiet, heavy with dread, slippery with promise. The promise—and memory—of death.

Leave him in there, they’d said, until the prince arrives.

The thud of a body striking rough stone rang in his ears. It was only once he was already prone—still reeling from the impact—that the scholar realized it had been his own weary, grief-stricken bones and his own torn skin scraping against the floor.

Let the prince decide what to do with the bastard.

[gay-impressionist]

france is burning.

667 people were arrested last night. they are curfews in place. public transport is partially closed at night.

nahel, a 17-year-old, was shot tuesday by the police during a traffic stop. he wasn't violent or armed, he wasn't a threat. but he broke the law and tried to drive away, so the cops killed him.

and now france is rioting.

there is a video so the government isn't trying to deny the facts for once. but the minister of the interior (in charge of the police) still insist that the police shot less people since the 2017 law on public safety.

but an analysis of police statistics by Le Monde, the most read newspaper in france, says otherwise. when the police shot on average 250 people each year in the five years prior to 2017, that number became 297 after 2017. for shots fired specifically on moving vehicles, the average used to be 119 and it's now 150. before 2017, there was an average of 0.06 deaths per shot. now it's 0.32.

more than ever, the police shoots to kill.

so france is burning.

[incorrectbatfam]

Carrie: Hey, do you guys know where I can get one of those gold t-shaped pendants?

Jason: That's a cross.

Carrie: Across from where?

[mythtakens]

9-1-1 + overhead shots

[ev-arrested]

Tim Drake is better than me because if my celebrity crush suddenly became my brother I’d kill myself

[cosmicdreamgrl]

𝘧𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘫𝘬 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴: (60/?)

[destielmemenews]

The five men claim in a federal lawsuit that Trump knew he was acting with “reckless disregard” for the truth when he said during the September debate with Vice President Kamala Harris that they pleaded guilty to crimes connected to the beating and raping a woman in New York City, and that the five teenagers “badly hurt a person, killed a person” in the attack.

“Defendant Trump’s statements were false and defamatory in numerous respects,” attorneys for the men, now all in their 50s, wrote in the lawsuit filed in federal court in Philadelphia. “Plaintiffs never pled guilty to the Central Park assaults. Plaintiffs all pled not guilty and maintained their innocence throughout their trial and incarceration, as well as after they were released from prison.”

“None of the victims of the Central Park assaults were killed,” the lawyers for Yusef Salaam, Raymond Santana, Kevin Richardson, Antron Brown and Korey Wise wrote.

source 1

source 2

source 3

The Central Park Five and Trump, Explained by NPR

[autocrats-in-love]

I NEED an overly dramatic villain losing to the hero, visibly humiliated by the outcome of their battle. Hero, being the sweetheart they are, comforts the villain, who is currently sobbing on the floor like a literal child

Who's There At the End

The hero’s shaking, gloves hands finally snapped the shears closed over the red wire. The red numbers on the timer  blinked, then switched off. The hero sighed in relief. Another day saved from the villain’s destruction. They stood up and dusted their clothes off, staring at the setting sun. They could finally go home. They had gotten up way too early this morning. They were yawning as they handed the plastic explosive that had been attached to city hall off to a wary police officer.

“It’s fine,” the hero said reassuringly. “They never install backups on their bombs. Just stick it in the evidence locker.”

The hero pushed past officers and approached the chief of police. They tapped him on the shoulder. The chief turned around, moustache twitching in frustration.

“Hey, you find them yet?” the hero asked.

The chief sighed in defeat. The villain had, once again, evaded capture. “No. But we’re close, I can feel it.”

The hero had heard that more than once. They laughed. “Sure. Good night, chief.”

The chief waved the hero away. The hero wasn’t going to look for the villain today. They were too tired. They were about to take off flying when they felt their super suit pockets.

“Crap. My keys.” 

The hero turned around, and walked back up the steps to  city hall. They must have dropped it sometimes when they and the villain were fighting. Or maybe when the villain locked them in that supply closet. The hero walked across the lousy-with-cops lobby and pushed the elevator button. They got in when the elevator dinged, and pushed the button for the sixth floor, where the hero and villain’s grand battle had taken place. The hero watched the number on the screen go up, anxious to get out of here and relax with a book. One, two, three, four, five- 

A weight crashed onto the top of the elevator box. The hero stumbled as the box shook. They rushed to push the emergency stop button. Then they looked up, listening to the patter above their head. Were those footsteps? Then one of the ceiling grates fell down, and the hero had to dive out of the way of it. They huddled under the handle bar, and watched as the figure jumped down into the elevator. The hero’s heart rate spiked. It was the villain. They were probably angry, vengeful. . .and crying? When the villain turned to look at the hero, it was clear there were tears streaming down their puffy face. The villain jumped up when they realised who they had intruded upon.

“Uh, hi,” the hero said with a wave.

The villain glared at them. For some reason, it made the hero sad. The hero was about to get to their feet to defend themselves--not that they were in any mood for a second round--when the villain sighed and collapsed on the ground. They brought their knees to their chest and buried their face in their lap. The hero could hear their enemy sobbing and sniffling. The hero was caught off guard by the apparent vulnerability they were being shown. The villain was usually very hard to read. The hero knew they shouldn’t let their guard down. But, after considering for a moment, they scooted over to the villain.

“Is everything okay?” the hero asked. 

The villain didn’t look up, or respond. They continued crying without restraint. The hero hesitated. Then they moved their hand to the villain’s back. The villain whipped their head up, snapping their fingers around the hero’s wrist.

“Don’t try anything,” the villain said raspily. 

They squeezed the hero’s wrist, making heat bloom from the area.

“Ow! I was trying to be nice,” the hero said.

The villain didn’t look convinced. Their glare was wet, their brown eyes shining under the fluorescents. The hero gulped. 

“Look, I know it’s hard to lose-”

More tears welled in the villain’s eyes. “No, you don’t! You always win. Not just against me, either. You have everything, and I’m just stuck taking the scraps you leave behind!”

The villain’s voice broke at the end. It made the hero soften.

“You tried to explode a building,” the hero said gently.

“Yeah, I couldn’t even do that,” the villain said, staring at the hero’s exposed wrist. “I’m such a disappointment.”

“A disappointment? To whom?” the hero said.

The villain sighed. “Just. . .the people who expect things from me.”

Ah. The hero was a public figure, too. They could relate. 

“I get it.”

The villain looked sceptical. “You don’t fail, though. You always win. You’re always ahead. Everyone loves you.”

The hero laughed. “Are you kidding? Have you seen the articles written about me? About how I’m too nonchalant, too slow, that I’ve never been able to arrest you.”

The villain blinked slowly, processing. “Really?”

The hero nodded. The villain loosened their grip on them. “Then- how does it all not get to you?”

The hero shrugged. “I mean, I am pretty nonchalant.”

The villain rolled their eyes.

“But, also, these reporters don’t know me. They don’t know that it is actually pretty hard to get the upper hand on you. They don’t even know my real name. So why would I trust their opinion?”

The villain wiped their eyes. When they looked back at the hero, they had a small smile on their face. Their hand dropped the hero’s wrist. 

“Did you say it’s hard to beat me?”

“Uh-” the hero felt themselves blushing.

The villain laughed, the colour returning to their cheeks. “Am I your arch nemesis? Does the thought of taking me down haunt you every waking hour?”

The hero pushed the villain’s face away from them. “Shut up.” 

The hero’s phone started ringing. They pulled it from their pocket. The chief of police. The hero picked it up.

“Hello?” came the chief’s panicked voice through the line.

“Hey, chief,” the hero responded.

The villain’s eyes widened in fear. They seemed to be genuinely scared of the chief.

“Officers are saying you’re stuck in an elevator. We’re still searching for them-” the hero smiled at the gruff voice the chief used when talking about the villain. “-but there’s no sign so far. Are they with you? Are you cornered in the elevator?”

The hero thought about it for a moment. Sure, the chief would be over the moon to finally have the villain. But, on the other hand. . .the villain was having a pretty crappy day.

“Nope. Haven’t seen anyone. A ceiling grate just fell and I was worried the whole roof would come crashing down. I’ll probably be out in a few minutes.”

“Okay, then. But be careful. They could still be lurking around.”

“Uh huh. Bye, chief.”

The hero hung up the phone. The villain stared at them. The hero shrugged in response.

“Why?” the villain asked.

“Because now you owe me one,” the hero said. “But you definitely need to get out of here. The chief is on a rampage to find you.” 

The villain sniffed one last time. Then they pulled the hero into a hug. It surprised the hero, and ignited a heat that they hadn’t felt in a long time. They hugged the villain back. When the two separated, the villain said, “Oh! I know how to pay you back.”

The hero raised an eyebrow. “How?” 

The villain tossed the hero something small. The hero caught it in between their hands.

“Oh, my keys!”

They looked up to thank the villain, but their enemy had disappeared.

[yesloulou]

Carlos arrested for hotness leaving quali at Miami 2024

[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was exploring the new dorms my school made and talking to my friend about who’s all rooming together. After a little while he turns to me and says; “Did you hear that Mr. C is getting arrested?”

“Oh my God, no way! What for?”

“Making meth. Come on I’ll show you-“

He takes me down the hall to one of the dorms where the door was conveniently open so I could see in, where my teacher Mr. C was sat in front of a fish tank that was pouring out a fine white powder. We watch on as a whole squad of police run down the hall, into the dorm room, grab Mr. C, and drag him away.

[aurorangen]

For how long will I have to live with this pain?

Transcript:

[Starting high school was a fresh start for me. I met new people and my best friends were by my side. I made lots of happy memories and forgot the bad things from primary school. It was all perfect when it began]

[That day, it started like any other day until I got to school. I was met with staring eyes and whispering voices. Talks about a missing person. Kingsley? Could he be related to Ashton Kingsley? 4 months have passed since the shed incident and we never talked about him at home. I hadn't thought about him in a while]

[Billy drove me home after school and I asked about the missing person case. The man was Dr Anton Boerescu and he showed me the newspaper, it was that doctor again. He kept quiet about my dad when he talked though. I was reading the article then looked up and saw an undercover police car parked on my house drive]

Police Officer: Payton Wilkinson, you are under arrest for the murder of Ashton Kingsley-

[My heart was racing and I was too stunned to speak. I couldn't understand what was happening. Billy tried to take control of the situation, demanding details as he recognised the officers from the other station]

[I wanted to run to my mum, but I was stopped and I froze at the sight. All I could see was her shaking while being handcuffed, crying and denying the accusations. I could hear Billy contacting his chief: he had no power]

Payton: [begging] Please! I would never do such a thing! Billy take care of Vincent! Make sure nothing-

[I was so scared: the police were arresting her for murder. I didn't know what to believe and started suspecting my own mother. The times she didn't seem like her usual self, if she was at work while I was at school, how much she despised him, why she has never mentioned his name. I fell to my knees. She couldn't have, could she?]

[serickswrites]

Cookies for Santa

Warnings: poisoning, unconsciousness, cardiac arrest, respiratory arrest, cpr, unclear character status

Team Leader walked into the kitchen of Base, surprised to see Smallest Teammate still up. "I thought everyone was asleep," Team Leader said as they stopped at the table where Smallest Teammate was heaping food from a take out box onto their plate.

"They are, but I'm starving." Smallest Teammate grabbed a pair of chopsticks from the bag on the table and began to eat.

"Didn't you all eat dinner?" Team Leader asked as they sat down. They had been gone most of the evening dealing with Organization's leadership and the repercussions of Whumper's escape from prison. While they were hungry, they were too exhausted and anxious to eat. But they knew they had to eat something or they would be useless for the rest of the team.

"Yeah, but, I'm still hungry. So I ordered some more food. Do you want some?"

Team Leader nodded and sniffed the box. "What did you order?"

"Noodles, tofu, and green beans. My usual." Smallest Teammate began to stuff food into their mouth with gusto. They made happy, little sounds as they chewed. "It's so good," they said with a mouthful of food, "try some."

Team Leader took a few green beans and took a bite. "Eugh, that's pretty bitter, Smallest Teammate. Is it usually that bitter?"

Smallest Teammate shrugged. "My mouth went numb a lot faster than normal. Maybe there's extra peppercorns in there."

Team Leader nodded and decided that perhaps a piece of dry toast was better. They didn't like the bitterness of the pepper corns, nor the numbness and tingling that came with them. "I'm making some tea, do you want any?"

Smallest Teammate shook their head and continued to eat. "Why were you gone so long?"

Team Leader sighed. "It was a long meeting. There was a lot to discuss. I don't know if we will have a good plan in the next few days or not. But we need to. Whumper can't be left to their own devices for long or we will be in deep trouble."

Team Leader's phone pinged from the other room. "I'll be right back," Team Leader said as they hurried out of the kitchen. It could be news on the plan to stop Whumper. Team Leader quickly read through all the notifications on their phone. None of them were important, but they needed to be sure.

"False alarm," they said softly as they walked back to the kitchen. "Anyway, we're still trying to figure out what to do. What do you think, Smallest Teammate?"

Smallest Teammate didn't respond. Thinking Smallest Teammate didn't hear them over the sounds of eating, Team Leader called out a little louder, "Smallest Teammate?"

But still Smallest Teammate didn't respond. Team Leader's mouth went dry as they crossed the threshold to the kitchen and could see Smallest Teammate on the floor, gasping for air.

"No!" Team Leader shouted as they hurried forward. Smallest Teammate had to be choking on something. Team Leader tried to pull Smallest Teammate to standing so they could do the heimlich, but Smallest Teammate was completely limp in their arms. "Hold on, I've got you. I've got you."

Smallest Teammate's head lolled on their neck as Team Leader quickly began the maneuver. But no matter how hard Team Leader pressed, Smallest Teammate's breathing didn't become easier. If anything it became more labored. "NNNNNNNNotttttttt ch-ch-ch-cho'nggggggg," Smallest Teammate gasped.

"What do you mean you're not choking?" Team Leader turned Smallest Teammate in their arms.

Smallest Teammate gasped for air, their mouth opening wide. Team Leader could see nothing obstructed their airway, or at least from what they could see. "F-F-F-Fooooood," Smallest Teammate managed to gasp out. "PPPPPPPPo--"

Smallest Teammate's words cut off as they struggled to breath. Poison. Poison had been the word they were trying to say, Team Leader was sure of it. "HELP!" Team Leader roared. They needed the rest of the team. "HELP!" They screeched as Smallest Teammate's eyes rolled into the back of their head.

Team Leader gently laid Smallest Teammate on their side and in the recovery position, hoping it would ease their breathing. "TEAMMATE ONE!" Team Leader shouted to the squad's medic. "GET YOUR ASS IN HERE PRONTO!

"Hold on, Smallest Teammate. Help is on the way," Team Leader murmured softly. "Smallest Teammate?" Smallest Teammate's loud gasps for air had stopped, their body completely still and the room suddenly silent.

"Smallest Teammate?" Team Leader said as they heard the sounds of the team hurrying towards them. Team Leader pressed their fingers to the pulse in Smallest Teammate's neck. "NO!" They shouted as they rolled Smallest Teammate on their back and began compressions. "You can't die, Smallest Teammate. You can't. Hold on!"

"What happened?" Teammate One said as they stopped in the doorway.

"Poison. I don't know what kind. But they've been poisoned. Hurry. They're not breathing, they're pulseless, and I don't know what to do other than CPR. Come on, Smallest Teammate, come on."

Team Leader never stopped their compressions as Teammate One began to order the rest of the team around. "Just keep doing that Team Leader, I'm figuring it out!"

Team Leader nodded. "Please, Smallest Teammate, just hold on. Hold on. Don't leave us yet. Come on, come on."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@pepeniascat @artisticdemon @acer-whumpstuff

[demonsinmysoul5000]

[aceofwhump]

Whumptober 2024 - No. 3 WRONGFULLY ARRESTED

Hawaii Five-0 5x18 Pono Kaulike Danny Williams is arrested for the murder of Marco Reyes and sent to a Colombian prison but the real reason for his arrest goes much deeper.

@whumptober

[murdockhawkeye]

it's weird that a teenaged girl is more hated in this fandom than like, the rich a-hole that insulted his teenaged son pretty much everytime he was on screen and canonically forgot him in the south pacific

or, yk, the scientist with groomer vibes that literally kidnapped (and threatened to harm) a teenaged boy to kidnap three more teenagers so she could dissect them. she also stalked them, that was a thing she and her henchmen did canonically