cell doors

You wake up in a dimly lit prison cell to find your cell door busted open, a pile of unconscious guards, a stuffed duck called Leeroy, the faint sound of Gangnam Style, and an absurd amount of blood on your hands

Fake AH Crew Finally Captured

‘The Fake AH Crew has been captured and is in police custody,’ says Sergeant Burns. They were caught when an attempted robbery failed due the train they hijacked being deliberately diverted manually by off-duty officer Miles Luna, who has since been promoted. This brings an end to the 5-year reign of the infamous….

“Alright Ramsey, that’s enough. Hand back the newspaper.” The guard steps into Geoff's cell to take away the newspaper he had asked for.

“I’ve barely started reading it,”

“You’ve seen enough.” The guard hands the newspaper to one of his fellow officers after shutting and locking the cell door. It clangs loudly, the noise irritating Geoff. The guard smirks at the grimace on Geoff’s face.

“Better get used to that sound Ramsey, you’re going to be hearing it a lot more in your future.”

“That’s what you think,” Geoff whispers to himself, as he turns away from the door, huddling closer to the wall. In his hands, he holds a pencil, knicked from the man’s shirt pocket. 

“Let me out!” Michael is unsurprisingly yelling at the two guards still standing at his cell door. The third one had to leave after the first 20 minutes when the sound grew too much and caused a migraine. The two left had long since forgotten the rules and put in earbuds, blasting any kind of music they had to drown out the Jones boy’s voice.

“Hey Bitches!! Pay attention to me. Fucking look at me. Come on, I’m BORED!” And finally one of the officers snaps.

“Shut the Fuck UP!”

“Make me.” 

The guard opened the cell door and marches in, gun in hand. He aims it at Michael’s head.

“Stop talking.”

“Shoot me.” With that, Michael grabs the guards hands, wrapping them in his own.

“Miss Patillo, if you cooperate with us, it could really reduce your prison sentence. Is it really worth throwing so much of your life away for these men?” The psychologist looks Jack in the eyes with her own tired ones. She smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. They look sad. Jack’s face mimics hers.

‘They saved my life.” Jack utters it quietly, looking down at her lap before turning her face to the side, losing interest in the conversation. “Besides, I don’t know anything. I’m just the driver.” Jack leans back in her seat and refuses to make eye contact.

The psychologist leans marginally closer to Jack, and whispers. “Do they really care about you?”

Jacks eyes widen, and she glares at the psychologist. They stare at each other for an eternity, then Jack leans, reaching out and grabbing the psychologists shirt. “You don’t know.” She rips the top button off and the psychologist gasps. Jack leans back again in her chair as officers rush into the room. The button slips into her bra as she crosses her arms.

“I’m bored Lil J,” 

“Yeah, me too Gav.”

“Wanna play Patty Cake?”

“What are you, eight?”

“Got a better idea?”


The pair shuffles from their position of leaning against each others backs to sitting cross-legged in front of each other on the bed.

“This is dumb.”

“Just play along. Ready? Patty Cake, Patty Cake, Bakers Man.”

“Bake me a cake as fast as you can.” A guard turns and stares at the two known criminals playing with each other like children.

“What are you doing.” The guard steps closer to the cell because surely this is some devious plan, and they must be hiding something because no way would two grown men be playing pattycake of all things while locked in a cell.

“Playing. It’s boring in here.” Gavin smiles sweetly to the officer.

“Stop it.”

“Are we annoying you? Sorry, that really wasn’t the intention.’ The guard falters at the innocent smile on Gavin’s face, and the almost shy way the other hides behind him. 

“It’s okay, I guess.” The guard turns away, missing how Gavin’s smile changes, into something more devious.

“Why don’t we play a different game?” The pair stands. “Bet I can run into that wall before you can!”

“It’s on.” The pair grin at the guard as he turns to stop them.

“We’ve got you all Vagabond. Even if you escape, there’s no one left for you.”

The officers turned it into a game, to see who could rile up the vagabond more. It’s not as if there’d be any repercussions. The man’s been tied down for hours in the interrogation room. The door has been left open so everyone passing can see the infamous vagabond tied down like a dog, incapable of fighting back. 

“You’re no threat. You’re nothing. You can’t do a single thing. The vagabond who’s killed more people than slept with caught by the police, along with his entire pathetic crew.” The officer taking his turn on the Vagabond is a thin and mildly pathetic thing. The highlight of his year is this moment. Ryan thinks he’ll kill him slow.

He becomes distracted however when he sees Jack being dragged past the open door. Her head is down, her red hair covering her face. Someone hurt her. Ryan thinks he’s let the guards have enough fun; he needs to get back to his crew.

Ryan feels around behind him with his hands. The cuffs are simple. The Vagabond knows everything there is to keeping someone captive, usually for torture and over the years he’s learnt you can escape cuffs. The cuffs slip off and he catches them before they clatter to the ground. Then he stands. The wooden chair legs break when he kicks his legs apart. Cuffs hung from his ankles and one wrist.

The entire room’s mood changes in an instant. Every single officer has a weapon in their hands within seconds, pointed directly at Ryan. 

“A single step and we will shoot.”

Ryan grins and takes a step.

“Oi, Geoff, wake up.” There’s a pat on his cheek, and he opens his eyes. The rest of the crew stands around him. Jack is patting down Jeremy, ensuring he’s healed properly, while Ryan talks with Michael. Gavin is looking down at him.

“Is everyone all good?’ Geoff asks after climbing off the metal table. 

“Yeah. It’s about 8 o’clock. Caleb brought us some clothes.” At the mention of his name, Caleb came forwards carrying Geoff’s suit. Looking around, Geoff noticed he was the last awake.

“How’d everyone get out?” He asked while pulling on his pants.

“Well, Jeremy and I ran head first, full speed into the cell wall. Broke our necks. Apparently, the officer who was watching us quit an hour later. Weak stomach. Probably good he’s not a cop anymore.” Gavin was smiling at Lil J, who giggled a bit. It was a surprising sound in the quiet of the room, but it made Geoff smile none the less.

“I got the cop to shoot me in the head. Made him angry enough he came into the cell and put his gun on me, so a grabbed his hands and made him pull the trigger. Dude’s probably fired.” Michael was grinning from his perch on another of the cold metal work benches. “Not as impressive as Ryan though.”

Geoff raised an eyebrow at Ryan who grinned sheepishly. “The had me in an interrogation room, me and about 12 cops. They all shot me when I escaped the handcuffs.” Ryan sounded embarrassed but Geoff beamed at him. 

“Good job buddy. What did you do Jack?”

“Nothing amazing. I stole the psychologist’s shirt button and choked on it. Wasn’t the best way to go. They tried to give me the Heimlich.” Jack was blushing a bit. “What did you do Geoffrey?”

“Slammed my head down on the pencil I stole. Took a few tries though.”

“That sounds gross.” Gavin had wrinkled up his nose in distaste. Jack looked a little alarmed. 

“Yeah, It’s not an experience I want to repeat. Come on, let’s go let the city know we’re back. I’m sure they missed us.”


0100 - Bundy threw orange and broke light bulb in cell - incident report.

0130 - Sleeping.

0505 - Breakfast - 1 milk, 2 cereals, 1 boiled egg, banana, bread & butter - refused.

0745 - Went to get Bundy from cell - subject has jammed lock. Unable to open cell door. Maintenance notified - repairman now working on lock. Shift commander notified, Sgt. Gollis & Judge Cowart notified Bundy sarcastic in answers to any of our questions.

0815 - Lock opened. Bundy given shaving equipment.

0845 - Bundy refused to go to court until attorney present.

0910 - Sgt. Gollis, court reporter & defense Attorney went to cell. Mr. Bundy agreed to come to court. Mr. Harvey & Mr. Aloi accompanied subject to court.

1025 - John A. Nowell fixed lock.

1210 - Returned from court - fed lunch.

1220 - Local phone call.

1250 - Returned to cell.

1300 - Returned to court.

1725 - Bundy back from court - fed supper.

1745 - Given local phone call.

1910 - Bundy, T. transferred back to court by Off. U. Simmons 2611 & G. Doran, 2585.

2010 - Back from court - given phone call - attorney interview room.

2100 - Social visit with Bro. Randy (under glass).

2205 - Social visit concluded - returned to cell & strip searched by Fresco and Wiggins.

Wolfstar non-magic AU

I’m working on a new chapter for my fic but it’s kind of not working because I’m in a silly mood so have an AU in which Sirius is a scientist and Remus is a lawyer. BECAUSE YAS.

  • Sirius Black is nothing if not incredibly patient
  • So when he finds out on Monday while on his way to work – he has to get to the lab on time because he needs to get his cells out – that the door to the flat across from him is open, he is ridiculously excited
  • Because the old woman living there was kind of shitty
  • And although she never rejected his offer to carry her heavy things up the stairs he doesn’t think she much liked him
  • And the door is open, offering a glimpse into an empty living room filled with heavy cardboard boxes, and the sound of a song by some band Fleamont likes plays in the background
  • But Sirius is almost late for work so he just swears and goes out to his bike and goes into work and stays until eleven helping the new PhD with his research

  • And it shouldn’t matter so much to him if the person who lives in the flat doesn’t introduce themselves to anyone else in the building
  • But somehow it does
  • Because James and Sirius know everyone on their floor and it’s just kind of weird that this person has no interest in interacting with them
  • So finally Sirius just has enough and barges over on the one afternoon he has off and knocks on the door
  • Only no one is home, and he’s kind of insulted when he stomps back into his own living room
  • He doesn’t try the door again for a very long time

  • And then it’s Christmas and it’s just ridiculous that everyone from their floor is here and the door to that flat just remains closed
  • So Sirius goes over, on his socks, leaving the door to the party open, and knocks firmly on the door
  • And it opens and there’s a very beautiful girl with dark auburn hair and amazing green eyes stood there and she looks at him all blinking and curious
  • And Sirius kind of stares and then goes “Evans?” because she looks like Evans
  • And Lily Evans looks at him with wide eyes and goes “Black?”
  • So Sirius invites Evans over for the party even though James will probably kill him very dead for it in the morning but he’s already gotten the words out so he can’t take them back
  • And she says yes, and then asks if it’s all right for her to bring her flatmate, someone she knows from her work as a lawyer
  • And Sirius shrugs and tells her sure.
  • And he’s just mentally prepared James for the possibility that Lily fucking Evans Sirius? You are no longer my best friend, I demote you in favour of Peter is coming to the party when she arrives and she’s wearing a really pretty green dress and a red Christmas sweater that makes her look like a Christmas tree
  • And James makes an absolute tit of himself going over and nearly spearing her hand with a sausage
  • Sirius isn’t laughing, he’s not
  • But then Lily’s flatmate turns out to be this kind of quiet boy with short brown hair and a fringe that keeps falling in his eyes and a really wicked smile that does things to Sirius’s head that are not really appropriate
  • So Sirius spends the evening chatting to him, out of politeness, really, because otherwise the boy would just be alone
  • And the boy talks a lot with his hands
  • And maybe Sirius is just the tiniest bit attracted to this boy
  • Maybe kind of a lot
  • But then Fabian Prewett knocks over their Christmas tree and he has to abandon Lily’s flatmate because there’s glass everywhere
  • At least Lily’s flatmate – who doesn’t have a name because Sirius didn’t catch it twice over the music that was playing and thought it impolite to ask another time – helps with the clean-up.
  • It’s midnight, and most everyone has left. Evans is still talking to James, Frank and Alice are chatting to Peter and Gid fell asleep on Fabian in the corner. Lily’s flatmate’s in the kitchen with Sirius, who is doing the dishes
  • Flatmate’s a lawyer at Lily’s firm and he’s Welsh and the accent isn’t thick but has a lilting quality to it and Sirius has stopped trying to tell himself that he doesn’t want to kiss him a few hours ago
  • Because he does very, very much want to kiss him
  • Even though he doesn’t know his name
  • “Stupid, really,” Sirius says, in reply to something he’s said, and then Flatmate looks at Sirius, hands stilling when he stops drying the plate Sirius has handed him, and says, completely surprising Sirius,
  • “Did you know you sometimes say things in French?”
  • “Sorry?” Sirius says
  • “You’ve been doing it all evening,” Flatmate says, and Sirius dies just a little bit because Flatmate’s neck is turning red and he doesn’t know what that means
  • Sorry,” Sirius says again, and runs his hand through his hair like James does because he’s copied that habit and it’s the stupidest thing ever, “ah, habit. Too much wine.”
  • And Flatmate very calmly finishes drying the plate and puts it back in the cupboard and then says, “All right,” and leans forward and presses Sirius back against the sink and kisses him, hard and hot and demanding
  • “Remus,” he says, when he draws back, much later.
  • “Sorry?” Sirius says, for the third time, feeling dizzy and slightly disoriented and wine drunk
  • “My name,” Remus says, and nips at Sirius’s neck and Sirius dies dies dies a thousand deaths oh my f – “is Remus.”
  • “Oh,” Sirius says, a million years later, when it locks into his mind and it just fits very nicely there between all of this, and then, “Nice to meet you.”
  • And Remus smiles that wicked smile and it’s just beautiful and then he says, “You too.”

DAY VI - Favorite Antagonist 

Try to forget everything you know about Final Fantasy VII for a second, and think about the way Sephiroth is introduced.

You’ve been fighting an evil energy corporation that is literally sucking lifeblood from the planet. One of your friends gets captured by them and you storm their headquarters trying to rescue her, but fail and get caught. In the night, you awake in your cell to find the door open. A little investigation reveals that everyone in the 60 plus story building is dead, apparently killed with a sword. Blood and slash marks decorate the walls. At the top, your perpetrator’s sword is stuck in the corpse of the company’s president as a bloody calling card. 

Your hero has a flashback of a fateful encounter with the man, and in it he defeats a dragon in one graceful slice that your hero can’t do any damage to at all.

For the next several hours of the game, this guy stays two steps ahead of you. You’ll have to cross a swamp inhabited by a giant serpent. You have to ride a chocobo to outrun it, but chances are you screw up a time or two and the snake wipes the floor with your party.

But when you successfully cross the swamp you find that snake like this:

All of this is before you ever meet the man in the present.

Final Fantasy has a lot of great villains, some have made me hate them, some have made me love them, but none have ever made me fear them like Sephiroth.

One thing I’m beyond excited for in Dirk Gently season two is the idea of Amanda rescuing the Rowdy 3.

I mean, it’s obviously going to be a team effort (and I’m still convinced that Riggins is going to play a huge role in breaking the Blackwing subjects out). But I trust Max Landis enough now that I can’t ever imagine any of the characters going oh no, I’ve been rescued by a girl, what a catastrope.

The Rowdy 3 would be fucking stoked that Amanda was able to pull this off. Martin would be so proud of their tiny angry vigilante champion.

I’m not even joking, I will be disappointed if we don’t have a cell door being blasted off its hinges and Amanda leaping through the burning wreckage in her leather jacket with a baseball bat and r e v e n g e in her eyes. This is her family and she will fight the entire fucking CIA if that’s what it takes to keep them safe.

A Night in Jail

Summary: you find yourself sharing a jail cell for the night with Dean Winchester, and he tells you his story.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: fluff, maybe slight angst I guess?, kissing!

A/N: yay more Dean! also I pictured younger Dean in my head when writing this so…yeah hahah. 

x x

You sat on the bench in the corner of your cell, watching with interest as an officer opened your cell door and shoved a man inside, slamming him against the wall.


This man was seriously sexy, whoever he was. He had dirty blonde hair, just enough scruff to make you wonder what it felt like between your thighs, and gorgeous green eyes. He was stunning. Looks like tonight won’t be so bad after all, you thought to yourself with a smirk.

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About Ted’s escape attempts at Florida State Prison : “The first he had initiated on his own and had worked at nightly, filing away at his cell bars and pasting them back together with dirt-dyed toothpaste. When his work was discovered by a guard during a routing tapping of the cell bars, he was transferred to the disciplinary cell block. There, to his surprise and delight, he found himself in the middle of another plot in progress. His first night in solitary, Ted told me with some relish, he had heard scurrying outside his cell. He couldn’t see what was going on because the cell had double doors, with outside door having just enough room to shove meal trays through. The noise had sounded like rats, but the shadows cast had looked much larger.

On the second night Tad had sent out a coded message on a bar of soap attached to a string: “I know there’s something going on, let me in.” No answer. The next night Ted had sent his message out again, this time including a threat to squeal. By return soap bar he learned they had fashioned keys with their toothbrushes and were able to let themselves out at night to roam the hallway and smoke marijuana they bought from the guards. Ted wanted a key, so, as often as he could, he would send his toothbrush out in the hallway attached to his line, and another inmate would retrieve it with another string with a hook attached. The unofficial locksmith would make some tentative cuts and send it back down the line. Ted would test it in his door and return it. He had been in love with the project.

Finally, the night came when he stepped out in the hallway. There were other inmates, mingling, lounging, getting high.

Ted had said, “Let’s go. It’s just a matter of time before this operation is blown. We’ve got to go now.”

“We can’t go,” the other had protested. “The razor wire would tear us to shred.”

Ted’s reaction was, “So what? it’s better than sitting here waiting to die. At least we’d have a chance to be free!” Then their real reason for staying behind came out.

“But where would we go once we got out?”

Ted was dumbfounded.

“Where wouldn’t you go?”


In 1895, celebrated writer Oscar Wilde was convicted of homosexual activity and sentenced to two years in the infamous Reading Gaol. The British prison closed 2013, but it has just reopened for an unusual art exhibition; “Inside” features installations and texts inspired by the prison and Wilde’s experiences there.

Cells where solitary prisoners counted down the days are now filled with art. And every Sunday, a different performer reads Wilde’s De Profundis – the 50,000-word letter he wrote to his lover and betrayer – in front of the original door to Wilde’s cell. Organizers say it wasn’t hard to enlist an A-list cast of readers, including Ralph Fiennes, Ben Whishaw and Patti Smith; all they had to do was reach out to those who’ve cited Wilde as an influence.

Reading Gaol, Where Oscar Wilde Was Imprisoned, Unlocks Its Gates For Art

Headcanon: Keith sucks at throwing knives. He never learned because he thinks its a huge waste of his beautiful, collectable blades

But one day theyre captured and have their weapons taken away from them, bayards and everything, except for a tiny knife keith keeps in his boot. He pulls it out and they start to plan out to get the guard close enough when Lance snatches it out of his hand

Everyone’s screaming at him because this is their ticket out but Lance fuckin THROWS the goddamn thing across the entire room and hits the release buttom, opened their cell doors.

They had to find a better nickename than “sharpshooter” after that

i just…………. i know i’ve talked about it before but………….

i love the idea of percy never really thinking about who or what he’s attracted to between being more interested in his tinkering than romance or sex and being preoccupied with everything involving the briarwoods and orthax

then he gets caught and locked up in stillben and he has no idea how long he’s in that cell but eventually the door opens and like. percy has never been a religious man. but there he is looking up at these two angels with dark hair and pointed ears standing in his cell door whispering back and forth to each other.

boom. full bi awakening thanks to the twins.


Post-12x08 fic, gen, 1561 words. For @alulaspeaks for the @bittersamgirlclub Secret Santa 2016. Also on AO3.

There’s a small slot towards the base of Dean’s cell door that’s his only point of communication with the outside world. Twice a day, once in the morning and once at night, a tray of food is pushed through. He can tell which is which by what they serve him: cold eggs and hash browns for breakfast, soggy tomatoes swimming in watery juice. In the evening, the menu’s more varied. Beans. Something that might be chilli. Sometimes there’s a slice or two of fruit. Either way, and however shitty the food, the moments where it arrives are usually the only events of Dean’s day; so he’s learned to anticipate them, to centre his activity on their coming.

After the first couple times, he lies on the floor when he thinks the slot might soon open, waiting for the brief opportunity it offers to peer through the opening into the corridor outside. He doesn’t know where they’re holding Sam; but he yells out anyway, “Sammy,” can’t hurt.

Sam doesn’t answer. He never answers, but Dean carries on yelling.

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