#unnamed prisoner

[redhoodscorvid]

The best part of Nolan's Dark Knight trilogy was when the Joker stranded two ferries in the harbour, rigged with explosives. Each boat held its own salvation: all the people on the boat had to do to get back to safety was press the detonator for the other boat, killing everyone aboard.

And the real kicker: one boat is filled with average, everyday people, and the other is filled with convicted criminals. Neither boat can communicate with the other. The longer time drags on, the more convinced that everyone becomes that the other boat will lose patience and blow them out of the water.

For a while, nothing happens. The guards on the prison boat keep the detonator away from the prisoners.

For a while, nothing happens. Honestly, the Joker thought they'd get to the punchline faster than this.

For a while, nothing happens. The guard who's holding the detonator is starting to look more and more nervous, and finally, a heavily tattoed prisoner calls out to him. It's an "I'm already damned" moment, and the man speaks words to the guard like he's the devil on your shoulder: What are they going to do to me, anyway? Just give me that detonator and I'll do what you should have when you first got your hands on it.

The guard hesitates, but... he wants to live. He's on a ship, damned to be blown up with the people that society says are dangerous—worse than worthless. As far as the other ship knows, the prisoners could violently overthrow the guards any moment. The ship full of civilians *should* blow them up (and the guard doesn't want to die). The guard extends his hand, holding out the device...

The man grabs it from his hand, opens a porthole and tosses it out the window.

He sits back down, glaring at the guard.

[percyaugod]

Unnamed Rise AU

Edit: It has now been named The Prisoner and the Pretender AU. : D

AU where Leo stays in the Prison dimension longer, but is saved by the technodrome. He wakes up bandaged in one of the dark broken pieces and panicking but freezes when he hears Donnie hiss at him to be quiet unless he wants the Krang to find them.

Leo silently panics even more because why is Donnie here? He's supposed to be the only one trapped here! What did that stupid egghead do!?

Donnie helped talk him through it and calm him down. Leo then tries to look for Donnie in the darkened ship while asking what happened. The lights are extremely dim but he can still see, so why can't he find Donnie?

Leo stops when he hears Donnie say "Oh I'm not Donatello, not truly, not anymore. I was though. For a few glorious minutes, we were both Donatello. Both the technodrome."

Leo, becoming very aware that he no longer has his sword with him, decides to keep talking until he can find an exit.

"So if you're not Donnie, then what are you?"

Donnie's voice snipped back, "I'm not a what. I'm so much more than a simple object! I'm the technodrome, the perfect combination…"

Leo stops listening to its rant as he keeps searching the ship. He finds an exit and makes a break for it. Only to be stopped as it's blocked by tendrils and a strange replica of the top half of his brother's body coming out of the wall. In true Donnie fashion, it doesn't look happy about his recent decision.

"Where do you think you're going?" It quietly snarls. "Do you have any idea how injured you still are after your 'fight'? Not to mention the lack of food and other resources outside. If anything happened to you Donatello would be upset with me."

"What do you know about Donnie!?" Leo snaps back, only to be muffled by a tendril wrapping around his mouth.

"I know he would destroy the universe himself if it meant getting you back. He will come for you, it's only a matter of time, and I will not disappoint him.

[transingthoseformers]

Fake Fic Ask Game!

• An Autobot and a Deception Walk Into A Bar

• Detroit Survival Guide, 20XX Edition

• So What Are You In For?

• Close Encounters Of The Mechanical Kind

In the aftermath of the war's conclusion, Rodimus and Soundwave (unbeknownst to them) had grown to love Aether's, the same hole in the wall that had popped up in New Nyrex. Therefore, it was inevitable that their visits would coincide eventually. What happened next, however, will shock you.

Rule #39: Never get in between two giant robots in the middle of a fight. One would think that this was common sense, but in Detroit, it's a skill many lack.

Maybe D-16 had done it. Maybe he didn't. That part ultimately doesn't matter. Starscream is sure the miner was the decepticons' ticket out of here.

The submission seemed like a joke at first. You ran a serious business here, and a recent onslaught of trolls and skeptics had ran your patience for bullshit thin. You zoomed in on the blurry image again, staring at creature's inhuman blue eyes in the darkness. Despite the quality, it does seem real. Absurd, but real.

[rookanisstuff]

everytime i read a lucanis x rook fic where rook is a helpless damsel i take psychic damage

[unnamed-idi0t]

Shoes SUCK and if it was normal and safe to walk in public without shoes I would I HATE shoes

[veryimportantsparkles]

Working on the chapter 7 draft (viewable on patreon) and man...this one guy is having a bad day. I kinda want to keep him around.

[goofalicousgooberface]

my Roman Empire is finding out Barry Keoghan was in The Batman but didn’t have more than 3 mins screentime

[ruthiesrambles2]

Ruth in a fur coat

Ruth in Teals and heels

Ruth in a tank top with a cigar and a gun

Ruth in an oversized white shirt

Ruth in a plaid and cargo jackets

You agree

[lupinshanshin]

[bmpmp3]

my accessory from when i played freedom wars forever ago....i like her i should turn her into a normal character

[xawkward-ariesx]

There was another wince on the other end as he settles on what sounds like one of the parlour couches. "We can only deal with one problem at a time brother, and right now the witch is an actual risk while Saint Caroline is only a probable future problem."

Future fic, You feel too much and nothing at all.

[ladyofdecember]

Ah man! So I thought the Joker at the end of Folie a Deux was the same actor/Joker from the end of The Batman! You know, the off screen Arkham inmate but apparently not? It was a completely different actor! I thought they were trying to connect the universes. 🤔 But I guess not? Still... they could always pretend it is the same Joker character especially since we didn't see the guy's face in The Batman.

[percyaugod]

Unnamed Rise AU Part 2: Eternal Prison

Edit: It has now been named The Prisoner and the Pretender AU. : D

Leo was bored asking how long has he been stuck there anyway. The technodrome says forty-three seconds. Leo is unamused and gives a flat "Ha Ha. No really."

The technodrome doesn't say anything and Leo is left reeling. "What, how!?"

"Time dilation. Time moves faster here than back in your dimension. If it makes you feel any better you aren't aging. This place was designed to be an eternal prison. Not very eternal if the Krang die of old age."

Leo crossed his arms muttering bitterly about how well that worked out.

The technodrome holds Donnie above all others, and it is partially because of being connected, but it's mostly because Donnie is just Donnie. Donnie is the first to look at the technodrome and see something truly amazing. It holds him in such high regard because he holds it so high. Which is why it doesn't want to disappoint him and lose that.

Not to mention how much of himself he was willing to give to it so it could think for itself for the first time. No more just sitting around waiting for commands. Being used like a tool by those that don't appreciate it, don't deserve it.

Leo keeps the technodrome talking so he can hear his brother's voice, though he'd never admit it to even himself. He's just gathering data, nothing else. Yet he's probably just doing stuff to aggravate the technodrome like messing with the stuff it uses to make nutrients so Leo doesn't wither away.

It tastes awful, he's just trying to make it pizza-flavoured. Or preferably anything other than what he imagines Dad's chair tastes like. He knows chemistry, he can do this!

The technodrome begs to differ. He knows Earth chemistry. These chemicals are literally alien to him.

The technodrome keeps moving so it's harder for Krang One to find them. Which is extra difficult while trying to look like just a piece of nonfunctional rubble floating there.

Leo would definitely try to sneak outside. If nothing else he's bored and wouldn't completely trust the Krang spaceship. He still hasn't decided whether it sounding and acting like Donnie is worse or better. At least it'll be harder to forget the egghead.

The technodrome only lets him out to get supplies because even broken it's still far too big to enter. Supplies are hard to come by though, and who knows how long Leo will be in here until his brothers can save him. It keeps watch of all exits in case he tries something.

Leo is definitely curious about the technodrome, especially its connection to Donnie. How exactly did it get a copy of his brother on its systems, and what is it going to do to the original?

He wouldn't just ask it directly though. Donnie can't lie, but who knows about the technodrome. He asked in roundabout ways about other tech and functions to gather more info before making his way slowly to how piloting it works.

Leo tells stories to the technodrome who listens since at least he isn't trying anything. It's when he tries to exaggerate something and the technodrome corrects him that he realizes the technodrome remembers this stuff too because Donnie remembered it. So now Leo has the technodrome tell him stories to help him remember. It's odd hearing some of the same events but from Donnie's point of view.

Leo has a lot of trouble sleeping, especially in a prison dimension. He says something completely wrong and falls asleep to a "Donnie" rant.

Leo asks the technodrome what it knows about neuroscience since it could help him take care of his brothers in the future as team medic (you can rip medic Leo out of my cold dead hands) and he's pretty sure the ship mentioned tapping into someone's brain or nerves to receive instructions.

He's really going to have to look Donnie over when he gets back because that can't be good.

The technodrome constantly brings up Leo having the portal closed on it. Is this what Draxum feels like dealing with him? Good.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

♡ FEM reader

♡ P2: Staying

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[eveningdawn222]

people who act like batman isn't "judge jury and executioner" because he doesn't kill people are like. genuinely so funny to me because. they're very obviously thinking of "executioner" as like. the stereotypical guy with axe who chops people heads off, and not, yknow, the literal definition of the idiom itself, which is about someone who has the ability to judge and then subsequently punish someone unilaterally. which is quite literally what batman does.

he has the ability to decide what is a "crime" to him, he is the one who decides whether people are guilty of those crimes, and he is the one who executes their punishment. the severity of the punishment doesn't matter - he is unaccountable to anyone else, and indeed is allowed to commit as many crimes as needed to reach his arbitrary ideal of "justice."

the ideal of batman is this: a man who is so fundamentally changed by an act of senseless violence that he takes it upon himself to fight back against the rot and corruption in the world. he does this not through political activism, not through ridding himself of his wealth in favor of a greater good, not through community outreach, but through an individualistic fantasy of being a hero.

and you'll say: charlie, but he does do that !!! he donates his money all the time, he funds social programs, hospitals, orphanages, gets people jobs -

and i will say this: so why don't things get better?

because here's the base of it. gotham, at its core, can't get better. no matter what bruce wayne does, there will always be more crime, more villains, more death, more people for batman to beat up in back alleys. because that's what sells.

reoffending rates don't matter in gotham, prison reform doesn't matter in gotham, what actually causes crime doesn't matter in gotham because that doesn't sell books.

and so here it is; dc has unintentionally created a world where batman can't win, but can't be wrong, and where thousands of nameless, faceless, only-created-to-die civilians must be pushed into the meat grinder that is gotham, to fuel bruce wayne's angst and vindicate his constant, tireless, noble fight against the forces of evil.

and then: a new robin, who is poor and who's parents are dead or gone because of this cycle; who is happy go-lucky and hated by editors and fans for being robin, for not being dick grayson, for being poor.

and this robin is written, unintentionally or not, to be angry at the ways in which batman's (the narrative's) idea of justice is detached from its victims. bruce seems perfectly fine to allow countless unnamed women to be at risk from garzonas in his home country, yet robin is the one who is portrayed as irrational and violent.

this robin is not detached from gotham in the way bruce wayne is: this robin is a product of gotham.

(and here's the thing. you can't punch aids. you can't fight a disease with colorful fights and nifty gadgets. and how would robin dying from aids add to batman's story; it would call into question the systemic changes that haven't been made in gotham. how does a child get aids, in batman's city?)

so robin dies, and then bruce (the narrative) spends the next couple of decades blaming it on him. it is jason's fault; he was reckless, he just ran in, he thought it was all a game. if only bruce had seen what was coming, if only he could have known that jason wasn't rich enough or smart enough or liked enough to be robin.

batman gets a little more violent, a little more self destructive. he hurts people more and almost (!!) kills a couple guys. this is bad because it's self destructive and "not who he is." it is not bad because batman should not be able to just beat people up when he's angry.

and then he gets a shiny new robin - who is all the things jason "wasn't": rich and smart and rational and he doesn't put who batman is into question. batman and robin are partners, and jason is a grave and a cautionary tale, and (crucially here) never right.

the joker kills thousands and it doesn't matter because they were written to be killed.

batman beats up thousands and it doesn't matter because they were written to be criminals.

and then jason comes back, and nothing has changed. there is a batman and a (shiny! rich!) robin and the joker kills thousands. (because it sells)

and jason is angry - he has been left unavenged - his death has meant nothing, just as willis' had, just as catherine's had, just as gloria's had, just as -

thousands. ten of thousands. hundreds of thousands. written to be killed.

but one of them gets to come back.

and he is angry - not only at the joker, but at bruce (the narrative) - because why is the joker still alive (when thousands-)

here is the thing - jason todd is right. not because the death penalty is good, not because criminals deserve to die, not because of everything he says -

but because of what he calls into question. why is the joker alive?

because he sells books.

and dc has written a masterful character, through no fault of their own, because jason knows what is wrong, and he knows who is at fault - batman. (the narrative)

so the argument that bruce can't kill because he's not judge jury and executioner; the argument that jason is a cop or that jason is insane or that jason is in the wrong here; they hold no weight.

batman can't kill the joker because the joker sells comic books.

and jason can't kill the joker because the joker sells comic books.

so he will beg and plead and grovel - he will betray everything that is himself, he will forsake his family and his city and kill himself - just so that bruce (the narrative) will let the joker die.

he was condemned to death by an audience, and after he came back he has spent his whole life looking us in the eyes and screaming, asking, pleading; why is the joker still alive?

why are thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands (the number doesn't matter, see, because they're just a number. not people. not real.) why are we expendable for his story? why did i have to die just for nothing to change?

and the answer is money. and the answer is the batman can never be wrong. and the answer is shitty writing. and the answer is -

nothing jason can ever change.

which is the worst of it all. he is a victim with no power, and no one else in the world can see it. he is raging and crying and screaming at his father and his writers and you - and it doesn't matter. jason doesn't matter. and he knows it.

[unnamed-idi0t]

ABYWAY MACAQUE MY BELOVED I LOVE HIM SM I WOULD FIGHT SOMEONE FOR HIM AAAAAAAAAAAA