reading jail

So–yesterday was Homestuck Day, and by that I mean it was the nine-year anniversary of the first posted page of Homestuck.  You may have noticed your entire dashboard going into a maddened, dismaying frenzy.  People you thought were your coworkers, your neighbors, your friends, your family, all of them infected by a virus that transmits through gray facepaint and Vriska memes.

Well, okay, I kinda got a little weird there.  My purpose in making this post is actually to advise you to read Homestuck–hell, read Jail Break and Problem Sleuth first, if you want, they help you to understand what the hell is going through the author’s head.  But read it, especially if you want to be a content creator, because reading Homestuck is a transformative experience–in that it will transform how you understand, process, and create fiction.  It pushes…boundaries.  It pushes the boundaries of storytelling, of character interaction, of audience participation, of the medium itself–of several mediums themselves.  The actual story has some severe execution problems late in the game, but I am firmly of the opinion that Homestuck is gonna be taught in college in fifty years alongside other great works of fiction throughout the history of mankind.

Moreover, it’s helpful to understand the people making content that are Filthy Homestucks.  Your favorite artist is a Homestuck.  Your favorite cartoon is made by Homestucks.  Your favorite indie game was made by Homestucks.  You’d be surprised how large a percentage of you this is true for.  Homestuck, for better or for worse, is important, and I highly recommend the experience of reading it.

If you wind up buying gray facepaint and pointy anime shades as a joke, all the better.

3

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

There is a certain peace that comes with being surrounded by a bunch of men with big guns.

As much as you want to run or fight or scream, there’s not much you can do — except whatever they say.

On a Friday afternoon in April, I was sitting in a restaurant in Juba, South Sudan’s capital, trying to convince two government officials to issue me press credentials so I could report there. I had tried and failed to do this over the phone from my home base in Nairobi, and so my bosses and I made the decision that an in-person appeal would be best.

I flew to Juba, and this was the moment of truth. The two government officials and I made small talk for a while, and then I sheepishly said, “So…”

One of them grinned.

“We’ll give you the credential. You can come pick it up on Monday,” he said.

We were mid-celebration, in the middle of our beers, when half-a-dozen men with guns showed up. They were in plain clothes, carrying assault rifles.

“I need you to come with me quietly,” one of the men said.

I Spent 4 Days In Jail In South Sudan. I Won’t Stop Reporting On The Crisis There

Photo: Kainaz Amaria/NPR
Caption: NPR’s Eyder Peralta

that episode of the flash destroyed me in the best way.

devoe is such a formidable villain? loving and capricious and downright cruel.

i can’t imagine how traumatic being framed for murder must be for barry and specifically being framed for stabbing someone. devoe went for the throat. 

i have so many feels about this plot arc and about barry right now. the writer in me is just… eager though. his expression, his “don’t run” and what must’ve been racing through his mind, through singh’s mind, all of it, how he knows it must look, how singh must be feeling just this shocked disbelief and horror at the parallel to barry’s childhood.

it’s all just… a delicious delicate cruel mess.

i need all the fic.

anonymous asked:

I was wondering if you have any good victuuri fics to recommend? :D i love kic btw, i've read it more than i've read my thesis and that's saying a lot! (Mostly about how I definitely make good life choices shhh!)

omg fkdjfdk thank you i’m so glad you’re enjoying kic!!! here are some awesome oneshots i’ve read recently:

  • Hey, Jealousy by @rcmclachlan
    gen / 3k / yurio pov fic about russian hockey team being in love with yuuri and victor is Absolutely Fine Of Course Why Would There Be a Problem ? ?  ?  (yurio voice is srsly on point) 
  • A Hitman’s Guide to Emergency Gift-Giving by @exile-wrath
    not rated / 2k / vicyuu are hitmen, it’s victor’s birthday, yuuri gifts him the decapitated head of his longtime rival; can u say, romantic? 
  • all you’re giving me is friction by @alykapediaaa
    teen / 2k / scruffy!victor…. need i say more
  • Laundry Day by @lucycamui & @victorsporosya
    explicit / 7k / vicyuu does the do on a washing machine… seriously folks… this is not for the Delicate Cycle-hearted… this is strictly for the Auto Soak of us 👅💦😩 👏  (seriously this is spicier than the ghostiest of ghost peppers)
  • Stay the Night by @dystopiansushi
    mature / 6k / speaking of ghosts… victor is a ghost who haunts a hotel. yuuri stays the night (WARNING this GOOSED me so if u are EASILY GOOSED then… then u have to read this too ok come and suffer w me dkafdkfjaskdfj) 
  • To Wine and Dine by @kiaronna
    gen / 3k / victor is a renowned chef and yuuri is a food critic who thinks victor’s only giving him a grand dining experience because he’s figured out what yuuri’s there for and i am absolutely sobbing this was so beautiful hECK and its in paris [heavy sigh]
When you haven't updated your fanfic in over two months
  • Brain: STOP BEING LAZY AND WRITE THE CHAPTER! YOU HAVE ACTUAL READERS YOU KNOW
  • Me: ok ok, fine I will geez. *clicks* after this video
  • Brain: no, no DON'T DO IT
  • Me: *wastes the entire weekend*

“And every human heart that breaks,
In prison-cell or yard,
Is as that broken box that gave
Its treasure to the Lord,
And filled the unclean leper’s house
With the scent of costliest nard.

Ah! happy they whose hearts can break
And peace of pardon win!
How else may man make straight his plan
And cleanse his soul from Sin?
How else but through a broken heart
May Lord Christ enter in?

And he of the swollen purple throat,
And the stark and staring eyes,
Waits for the holy hands that took
The Thief to Paradise;
And a broken and a contrite heart
The Lord will not despise.”
- Oscar Wilde, The Ballad Of Reading Gaol

‪Yes, Shane. It’s just political correctness that’s stopping us from putting prisoners into suspended animation. ‬

one weekend an earthquake rocked los angeles. richard ramirez was reading when the jail started shaking and trembling. he watched the ceiling, thinking it was going to fall down and kill him, and he welcomed death, for then he’d be in a place of honor, at the table of lucifer and out of the hated six-by-eight-foot cell he’d been in since september of 1985. the quake passed. the ceiling didn’t fall down. he went back to his reading.

Prison Break

Summary: A short story about Y/N’s first prison break

Pairing: Dean X Sister!Reader, Sam X Sister!Reader

Warnings: Arrest, nothing else really

Word count: 1.6K

Authors note: Hey guys! so this is my first imagine, i hope you guys like it. i meant to post it on the weekend, but my laptp was being a dick and deleted it, so rip. Have a great day - Georgia

Check out my Masterlist here!

Deep breaths. In and out, in and out. It had happened all too quickly. One minute I was picking up soft drink from the shelfs, the next I was in a pair of handcuffs, being shoved into a police car. My eyes caught sight of my older brothers, Sam and Dean, also being taken. Hopefully we were being taken to the same station, otherwise I don’t know what I’ll do. How did they even find us?

There was a gun placed in the waistband of my jeans, but I was obviously frisked and stripped of the weapon. I felt naked, vulnerable even. I had no way of defending myself, unless you counted my restrained fists. My mouth stayed shut throughout the trip, however no questions were asked anyway. They had no reason to arrest me… right? There were no traces of me at any crime scenes, Sammy had made sure of it.

After a few minutes, the car finally pulled to a stop and I was hauled from my seat. The hands gripping my arms were strong, causing me to wince in pain.

“No need to bruise my arms, mate.”

My words were only responded to by a huff, but the grip slightly loosened. The man continued to guide me into the station, where I caught a glimpse of Dean. He was restrained, pushed down onto a table. He had no physical signs of injury, causing minor relieve to flood my body.

“DEAN!!”

His head instantly snapped in my direction, calling the attention of the other officers.

“(Y/N).”

His body tried to straighten up, however he was merely pushed down again. Taking advantage of the man’s lose grip, I ripped myself out of his hold and ran towards my eldest brother. The police seemed to shocked to move, so I shoved them out of the way and helped Dean stand up. Quickly, I nuzzled my head into his chest. It was almost a hug, but with neither of our hands being free, it was simply chest contact. His head rested atop of mine, as a sigh left his lips.

“Don’t worry (Y/N), Sam will get you out of here.”

Instead of replying with words, I nodded. I knew the police were getting back on their feet, I could hear the shuffling. There would only be seconds before we were separated again.

Dean seemed to sense this, as he moved his head and placed a kiss on my forehead.

“Dean, what ab-“

Just as predicted, I was ripped away from my brother. Without even thinking, a scream escaped my throat and I planted my feet into the ground. No matter how hard the man pulled, I stayed put. My eyes were set on Dean, as he was pushed back into the table. He barley even noticed, as his eyes were also clearly on me.

“W-what about you??”

His mouth opened but I never heard his response, as the man picked me up and walked away from the scene.


“Look, you’ve been here for four hours. The sooner you speak, the sooner you get to go home.”

The police officer in front of me was short, with brown hair and green eyes. She was wearing a hideous pantsuit, with black flats. From what I had heard, her name was Ashely.

“I’ve already told you everything!” My voice came out frustrated, expressing how I felt.

“The truth, we need the truth.”

“What do you think I’ve told you then? Because I can promise you that I am no liar, I’ve never told a fib to anyone.”

Unless you count the police and general public.

My brothers and I always knew this could happen, so we had well devised lies for everything. Our stories would always match up, we made sure of it.

“Well how come your brother, Sammy, told us something completely different.”

Psh, as if.

“First off, it’s Sam. His name is Sam, not Sammy. Second off, are you sure you aren’t lying to me?”

Ashley seemed taken aback for a moment, her glance leaving mine.

“It’s my job to lie.”

A short chuckle left my mouth, causing her to turn back to me.

Making direct eye contact, I responded.

“I thought it was your job to protect the innocent. Not arrest them.”



It was several hours before the door opened again. Ashely had been kind enough to supply me with a cup of water, however I had already drunk it all, leaving my mouth as dry as a desert. My wrists were bond to the table with handcuffs but there was a small chain, leaving room for me move my arms.

My eyes stayed on the table, uninterested in the person who had walked in. Judging by the impact of the footsteps, it was a man. Interesting, I don’t remember a man come see me before. A sigh escaped my lips, as I threw my head back and rolled my eyes.

“And what is that you would want?” I muttered, staring at the ceiling fan directly above me.

“well, ideally I’d like to get you out of here.”

That voice, I’d heard millions of times before. It had helped me sleep on sleepless nights, calmed me in stressful situations and explained the unexplainable.

My eyes immediately snapped to the man, studying him for any visible injuries. To my relief, he appeared as he always did, fine.

“Sammy.”

Before I even knew it, tears poured from my eyes, dripping down my cheeks and falling onto my neck. Sam seemed surprised, after all I didn’t cry often. I didn’t realise how much I needed to see them until he walked in the room. But these hours alone in this small room had set me on edge, silently begging for my brothers to come rescue me.

“(Y/N).”

As my relentless crying continued, Sam approached me with a bobby pin. Quickly, he expertly undid the handcuffs, before pulling me into a well needed hug. My sobbing slowly came to a halt, with the feeling of his arms around me sending warm waves of comfort up my spine. My hands gripped his shirt, fearing he would disappear if they didn’t hold tight enough.

Eventually, I pulled back from him. My eyes trailed to the spot I had nuzzled my face into, seeing a sizable wet patch.

“S-Sorry.”

Sam’s face contorted with confusion, as I pointed towards the stain. As soon as he spotted it, his lips curled up into a smile.

“Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

His smile was contagious, as I followed suit and let out a small giggle. My hand search for his, as I pulled it into my grip and intertwined our fingers.

“so what now?”

Sam’s eyes gestured to the window, as his eyebrows raised causing crinkles to appear on his forehead.

“Well, I do a have a little idea.”


“Sammy, do think we can pull over yet?”

Shortly after escaping the police station, Dean joined us at the hotel. Together, we packed everything we had left into Baby’s boot, before taking off. We’d been driving for at least three hours and the hunger was starting to get to me. If I didn’t have food soon, I might result to chewing the backseat of the Impala.

“Uh, I don’t see why not.”

Dean seemed to take note of his words, as we kept watch for any fast food place. We continued to drive for twenty minutes, before Dean pulled up in front of a MacDonald’s. Sam handed over some money, before telling me what he wants. Dean followed suit, telling me his order as he pulled out of the car parking lot and drove down the road. It was too risky to have them here, especially in our obnoxious car.

Repeating their orders in my head, I marched into the restaurant and got in line. Luckily, it was short, with only 4 people standing ahead of me. I didn’t notice at first, but in the corner of my eye stood two police officers. Instantly, my palm became sweaty, as nerves over took me. I kept my head forward, trying to avoid eye contact.

They didn’t seem familiar, but that didn’t mean they oblivious to my identity. Keeping the thought in my head, I stepped ahead and ordered Sam’s, Dean’s and I’s orders. The nice lady gave me a ticket with the number 102 on it, before taking my money and handing back the change.

$4.80. Studying the coins, I placed them in the charity box. Who knows, that $4 could save someone’s life.

Making sure not to look at the officers I waited for my order. My head faced forward, as I discreetly kept my eye on them. I couldn’t help but flinch, as one made their way over.

“Excuse me.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Realising I was in his way, I stepped to the side and into the shadows. The man said nothing else, as he made his way forward to collect his food. It was then that I heard someone shout my number.

Jumping forward, I snatched the food from their hands, thanked them and headed towards the door. As if Dean knew I was coming, he pulled up right in front of me. My hand gripped the door handle, as I opened the door and jumped inside. A sigh left my mouth, relieve flooding my body.

“Did you get the food?”

Typical Dean, always about the food.

In reply to his question I held up the bag, shaking it in the rear-view mirror.

“Thank the lord!”

And that was the story about how I escaped my first police station with my two big brothers, Sam and Dean.