prison within

Jeremy Meeks became an Internet sensation back in 2014, when his mugshot went viral and earned him the unofficial title of World’s Hottest Felon. His image was so popular that he signed with an agency while still serving time in federal prison, began modeling within 3 months of his release, and has since gained more than 740k followers on Instagram. Source Source 2

BREAKING NEWS: Cult Leader Charles Manson Ill, Requires Surgery.

Infamous cult leader Charles Manson, 82, is currently in an unstable condition in a Californian hospital after experiencing intenstinal bleeding earlier this week. Manson requires invasive surgery immediately, but his condition is currently ‘too weak’ for surgery to be performed safely.

Manson has been a prisoner within the Californian prison system for over forty years, and was the ringleader behind the horrific “Family Murders” that shocked Los Angeles in 1969. Manson has pursued a music career behind bars, and also participated in the FBI’s well-known serial murder study.

Marriage gets a lot better when you stop expecting it to be perfection. The moment you change your expectations of love your heart is now ready to mature into real love.

A love that comes packaged in a dunyah which is like a prisoner for the believer. Yes, we love in some form of temporary prison, and yet, within it’s limitations there is immense beauty and breathtaking moments to be experienced. The mercy of Allah is great, and His signs are everywhere.

Even in love. But His tests are there too. The ones to shape us, remind us of Who we need the most, of Who is going to save us. Of Whose love is the greatest.

Let go of seeking perfection and instead, embrace the journey of growing together in love and worship for the sake of Allah.

—  Via Wives of Jannah

Holy shit picture this: Evil queen Allura and her five cutthroat paladins who are willing to die for her at will

Imagine that galra are fuckin scared of Allura and her crew because of their lack of mercy and the fact that she takes no prisoners

They conquer planets within minutes and they don’t need any help from any quintessence or body modifications–her and her five soliders are superior fighters and nothing is really a challenge.
The last time Zarkon tried to face her head on, he lost almost 75% of his fleet and he’s been suffering suffering from that loss ever since.

Allura’s home planet was destroyed so now she will conquer every single planet in the universe to make up for the loss of Altea and she won’t stop until they are all hers

  • what i say: i'm fine
  • what i mean: how does the justice system of the harry potter world function? are there jails besides azkaban for smaller crimes, or does one have to deal with crushing terror for peeing on a bush? why was barty crouch allowed to be involved in his own son's trial? is there any form of ethical training that goes into the ministry? also, how does azkaban work? are there human guards as well as dementors, or can dementors function well enough to feed prisoners or take them to visitation areas? if there are wizards or aurors who work within the prison system do they have to deal with constant feeling of dread from their coworker dementor jim just hanging out? what is the fugitive protocol? why were there no clear visible figures trying to find sirius, just dementors around hogwarts? can dementors function the same as u.s. marshals? is that what they're a metaphor for as well as depression? how did the law enforcement of the wizarding world close a case after finding only a man's finger, how did--
Prison Break (Compromised)

(tropes: Handcuffed Together, The Great Escape)

The chain dragging at Shirayuki’s wrist fell loose as the guard found the cell he was looking for. Keys clanked against bars, the door opened with a grind of rust, and as he forced Shirayuki in she tripped over her gown. The spatters of blood along the hem were newly obscured by unidentifiable sludge.

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Marcel Proust’s In Search of Lost Time 7 tomes as paintings.

“But sometimes illumination comes to our rescue at the very moment when all seems lost; we have knocked at every door and they open on nothing until, at last, we stumble unconsciously against the only one through which we can enter the kingdom we have sought in vain a hundred years - and it opens.”

anonymous asked:

Jyugo's s/o sweetly asking for him to kiss her in front of the other cell 13 guys and he's just kinda really shy,, I saw one of your hc where he's not fond of public kissing but if his s/o is kissable he will eve //hue hue hue awkward situations

hue hue hue indeed nonnie! I’ll be using gender neutral pronouns if you don’t mind! ty for reading my hcs too!

“You…what?” Jyugo whispered, afraid that the trio behind him and his s/o would hear the request. They were in the visiting room within Nanba Prison, and the rest of the guys from Cell 13 wanted to come along with Jyugo to say hi to (name). While the others became distracted by the amount of food (name) brought, (name) wanted to ask Jyugo something out the ordinary considering the setting. They wanted Jyugo to kiss them. In public.

“I wanna kiss you!” They exclaimed. Their eyes glittered with excitement, and Jyugo couldn’t help but feel compelled to complete their request. But he still felt a little shy with kissing in front of his cellmates. “I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to” his s/o whispered, and smiled. “As long as you kiss me later!”

His s/o looked so adorable and just…so kissable at that moment. After much deliberation, Jyugo went for it. He placed his hand on his s/o’s face and kissed them softly, feeling their little giggles as they kissed him back. It was really nice, and he didn’t really feel as shy anymore-


I’ll let you guess who said that at the end lol. Sorry if it’s a little short nonnie. I’m writing this in a rush. I hope you enjoy!

A Letter to Jim Moriarty


It appears that you and I have the bad business of being slightly immortal, as neither one of us are dead upon writing this letter thought he papers have reported otherwise. I’m sure you had your moment of shock in understanding that I was a live, as did I. The fact that you had faked your death on the rooftop didn’t occur to me because I never anticipated suicide as a possible solution for you. Suicide is a messy business, one that I would rather not get to know at any length. So now that we’ve got that out of the way, I understand your situation.

Sherrinford is a prison within a prison. You have witnessed it first as a guest, visiting my sister. And now you are a part of it. I can only imagine what it must be like to have such limited interaction, even with the lesser ordinary people of the world, which is why I’ve made it my business to reach out to you. With the aid of Mycroft, this letter will hopefully find you well enough to read and respond. I do have a few questions.

Your network, now dismantled, was a much more elaborate web than I could have anticipated. Like a cancer, I wonder constantly if I missed something. It was particularly convoluted in France, of all places, to try and pull out the weeds in the garden. Did you have any interaction with the Crown there? I know about the Crowns, of course. But what I didn’t realize is that soon after your death, they began to change hands and evolve into monstrous forms of crime and debauchery. All except for France, which has kept a stalwart resolution to the network and what it stood for. 

You know that there are some loose ends that I left. Sebastian Moran, for one, was not a high priority on my list. I did this for two reasons. The first being that Moran only takes orders from you and you’re dead, so he is of little consequence to me - though he seems to hate tigers. The second being that if ever there is a ship to sink, the rats are the first to flee. I’m watching his every move, in case there are some vestiges left of what you once created.

I digress. There is an obvious shift in the balance of things with you gone, an outcome I hadn’t wholly anticipated. When one tries to work for the ‘betterment’ of the world, I suspect one has to care about what happens to the world. You can’t simply take a ‘bad guy’ and throw him in a cell without consequence. There are ideas that cannot be imprisoned, and now those ideas are free-flowing and heard by hundreds over mass media outlets. There is no end to it, is there? Just like there is no end to us, to our game. I’m not sure either of us won. 

Serbia is an issue. Are you aware? Write when you can find the time, I’m certain you’re very busy with … things in Sherrinford. Give my regards to the guards, they’re simple creatures who have no idea how to handle the lion in the cage. 



We are all carrying

our prisons within us

Trapped inside walls

filled with memories

old scars, and regrets

and eventually,

we become at home

Punishing ourselves

wasting away our

precious years of life

just letting them go by

Inside our hearts.

we’re all waiting

for that little hope

that speck of sunlight

to escape, and to

reclaim that lost time


“What emerges from this newfound concentration is a prismatic and multi-tiered portrait of what it means to be powerless within the prison-industrial complex. This isn’t necessarily a new thread for the series, whose characters have all been made to bend to higher authority over the three preceding seasons, but rarely has the sense of impotency been this effectively unsettling. More than any of its previous seasons and more than any other show on television right now, Orange’s fourth season amplifies the pure exasperation of finding one’s basic human rights snatched away as well as the frustration of the bystander who is equally helpless at intervening or restoring them.”









If Poussey Washington’s death broke your heart the way it broke mine, then the writers did something right. They spent this entire season setting that shit up. She was happy. She was in a healthy relationship. She made connections. She had a career lined up. She had plans after she got out of prison and she was going to have a life after prison. Within minutes, it was completely taken away. The writers showed us how happy she was and they ripped that shit away from us. It was supposed to hurt. It was supposed to be unfair.

Poussey Washington was unarmed. Poussey Washington was not trying to attack or hurt anyone. Poussey Washington was not a thug. Poussey Washington saw Suzanne was in trouble and was just trying to help her friend. An officer restrained her and stood on her back until she suffocated, like Eric Garner. Officials waited to move her body, like Michael Brown. No one said her name when announcing the accident, like Sandra Bland. MCC put off notifying the authorities and went out of their way to find something incriminating so blame could be placed on a victim.

Regardless of whether or not it was an accident, you should be angry that this happened to Poussey and that this regularly happens every day in America. Last year 1,200 people were killed by US cops. Of that list, 72% were POC. It’s statistically proven that a black person is two and a half times more likely to be killed by the police than a white person. This is not okay.

Poussey Washington is symbolic of everything wrong with our justice system. If you’re angrier with the writers than you are with America, then I wholeheartedly believe your anger is misplaced. An unqualified correctional officer, who’s job is to oversee the safety and wellbeing of inmates, was insufficiently trained and someone died. This CO, ‘Caputo’ and 'MCC’ are responsible and Poussey, someone who honestly shouldn’t have even been in prison in the first place, is dead because of them. Her blood is on their hands. Just like the blood of those who are unrightfully executed every day.

What happens to Poussey happens every day. That’s why her death was so heartbreaking. It wasn’t nonsensical. It wasn’t far fetched. It was real. Even though she’s “just a character”, this intricately beautiful part of my favorite show is gone. She was a good person with a bright future and she was happy. Poussey deserved better.


Ash and dirt covered her face as grabbed a pillow from the foyer. Another late night meant another night to sleep beside the dying embers of the hearth. She used the corner of her apron to try and wipe the dirt from her face. When she looked down at her apron, she was a bit surprised to find it a little damp. She wiped her cheeks which she discovered were wet with tears.

Indeed she had come to terms with the fact that she would probably never see Kit again. But it still hurt. She missed him terribly…oh how she missed him. Her stepmother had made her a prisoner within her own home. Before she went to bed every night, Lady Tremaine locked all of the doors to prevent Cinderella from leaving. She was trapped…forever within her house.

She wiped her cheeks and her eyes and she took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. Setting the pillow down beside the hearth, she lied down and tried to cheer herself up using her memories. 

She closed her eyes and thought of her childhood. She was ten years old again, running about the property of her house with Mister Goose and the mice. Her parents watched her for a moment before they too joined in on the chase. She felt complete and utter happiness. Her childhood was so full of life and laughter. She wished she could have it back. As the young Ella ran through the fields, she was suddenly soaked with water.

Cinderella’s eyes snapped open with a gasp and she quickly sat up. She looked around and suddenly found herself on a beach with the ocean’s tide washing over her. She widened her eyes and breathed heavily as she quickly stood from the crashing water. 

She looked out at the water and she felt her heart pound. What had happened? Where was she? How did she get here? She turned and saw a looming jungle before her. ❝Wh-where am I?❞ she asked the jungle.