#forced criminalization

[mysharona1987]

That’s a concentration camp, tho.

[idhren]

Please please do not throw fuel on cyber slavery by funding scammers; it's already horrific and rapidly expanding. From 06Apr24:

I swear we used to be able to think critically about random GoFundMe asks

It used to be understood that if someone using a throwaway blog suddenly starts messaging a bunch of accounts to beg for money, they were most likely a scammer.

Now suddenly there are fucking swarms of throwaway bots relentlessly shilling GoFundMe campaigns to anyone who even so much as breathes in the direction of a trending tag or post, yet the mere suggestion that any of these could be a scam will immediately get you yelled at by self-righteous strangers.

What changed?

[rauspberries]

Climbing Higher

aaron hotchner x bau!reader.

summary: since your sudden introduction to the bau, you've never felt like you've been on the good side of aaron hotchner. over time, your relationship has only gotten worse and worse, especially with your mission to annoy him and his mission to completely ignore you. when the two of you are put into a situation where you're forced to come to terms with your relationship, you're also forced to face feelings undiscovered.

tags: forced proximity, workplace rivals, no use of y/n, afab reader, comfort [just a tad], reader is afraid of elevators but not intimidating men, haley doesn’t exist, no kissing sorry ;/

word count: 2.9k

notes: told my friends to give me a trope, a relationship & a character. this is what my brain came up with. also; reminder that my requests r open if u have any ideas :]

Aaron Hotchner hates you.

You’ve known it since the second you stepped through the glass doors of Quantico. Since you were hired by the Section Chief, Erin Strauss, and not himself, your place inside of the BAU had been tainted before they had even seen your face. While the majority of the team has warmed up to you, you have never ended up on his good side. You were forced to watch from the sidelines as he was stoically sweet to everybody else but yourself.

That was not to say you didn’t try. At first, you tried to prove your knowledge. Talking his ear off about profiles, being proactive in the field during cases, bonding with the team. None of it had worked. All of his responses had just been soft grunts, terse nods or short answers. At some point, you had realized that nothing you said or did would change his opinion about you.

So, you decided to hate him back. If he wanted to brandish his negative opinion like a badge, you would simply return the favor. Respectfully, of course, since he was still your boss, but returning the favor all the same. 

Although his attitude towards you tended to be silent and stiff, you had settled for a more passive-aggressive approach, filled with bittersweet smiles and malicious compliance. You answered all of his commands with a smile that made your cheeks hurt, you slightly adjusted the stapler on his desk every time you went in there, you took the last bit of coffee in the pot right before he stepped up to the small kitchenette in the office. Your favorite was bringing in baked goods that you purposefully left one ingredient out of, asking him to try one and leaning on the idea that he wouldn’t be bluntly honest about them not tasting good.

Even though you tried your best to make Hotch’s life just a tiny bit harder, you were very aware of the fact that you weren’t blind. Truth be told, Aaron Hotchner was a handsome man, tall and muscular, to the point that made you have not-so-professional thoughts about him. Boss or not, the way he looked in a button down and his FBI vest had to be illegal. In some twisted truth, even his phlegmatic demeanor added to his allure.

As you stare at the back of his head while following him into Quantico, you start to conjure up the ways you could annoy him today. There were a few files on his desk that you could accidentally send flying to the ground in an accidental trip, or you could get Spencer started on a tangent during the case briefing to drag it on longer. Bonus points if it was something inappropriate, like BDSM and its effects on the human psyche.

The creativity of your own deviousness has a ghost of a smile dancing across your lips as you watch him step up to the elevators, pressing the button to call it down to the lobby. You sidle up beside him, pulling your bag up higher on your shoulder and giving him a sickly sweet smile. “Agent Hotchner.”

For a moment, you think about just how criminal it is for someone to look so good while being so incredibly irritating. His perfectly tailored dark suit brought out all of the features that made you sweat, so perfectly put together that it made you want to rip it apart with your hands. Even his hair is perfect after facing the brutal winds of Virginia, falling onto his forehead and making him look just the tiniest bit undone, even if there’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll fix it as soon as he’s in the office.

He greets you with a dip of his head, your last name falling off of his lips so quietly you almost miss it. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to speak, his eyes immediately turning back to the doors in front of you just as soon as they peel open with a metallic whir.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you follow Hotch into the elevator, staying near the doors as he situates himself near the back wall. You press the button for the sixteenth floor, watching as it lights up and taking a deep breath as the elevator jolts to life. 

Despite the gruesome things you see every single day, every reason you’re given to be scared, there is only one thing that you are fully scared of; elevators. They’re too unpredictable for your taste. The idea of the whole thing being held up by only a few cables, trusted with the maximum capacity of twenty to thirty people? Forget it. Just an accident waiting to happen. Plus, the gap between the floor and the actual elevator was a death trap for any small items you might own, and you were notoriously clumsy.

Since you either have to walk up sixteen flights of stairs or use the elevator to get to your shift, you’ve figured out the best way to manage your fear is to disassociate. Usually, you can disappear into your own mind long enough to zone out for the entire minute-long ride, not to worry about the elevator plummeting multiple floors to your untimely death at your young age.

You can feel Hotch’s eyes on your back as you take another deep breath, closing your eyes as you try to think happy thoughts, keeping yourself relaxed until you reach the floor you need to be on. The intensity of his focus on your back has the hair on the back of your neck raising, completely aware that he was profiling you at that moment. In fact, if you thought about it hard enough, you were able to imagine his face, all hard lines and tight frowns.

You’re blissfully distracted by the mental image of Hotch’s focused face until the elevator suddenly stops, emergency lights flickering on while everything else ceases to function correctly.

You take a sharp intake of breath at the unexpected jolt, looking around as if the answer would be painted across the walls. Your heart starts to thud a bit harder against your ribcage as you turn to look at Hotch, your cheeks dusting a light shade of pink in embarrassment at being so thrown off by the situation. “What’s happening?”

“Elevator shut down.” He responds blankly, his shoulder brushing against yours as he shuffles around you, his fingers jamming at the floor buttons. Much to your dismay, they don’t light up anymore, only useful for the soft clicking noise they make when his fingers poke at them. He copies your disappointed sigh as he presses the emergency button, crossing his arms over his chest as he awaits an answer from emergency services.

Stepping back to let him handle the situation, you lean your back against the far wall, covering your thrumming heart with one flat hand and digging the heel of your palm into your sternum in an attempt to stop it. Your eyelids flutter closed as you tilt your chin up towards the ceiling, the blinding bright lights helping to bring you down from the swirling worst-case-scenarios in your head. The sound of Hotch communicating with the building personnel and the other members of the BAU falls on muted ears. 

Finally, when he’s done taking necessary phone calls, he turns to you, the line between his brow deepening as he takes in the state of you. “They said they can be here in forty-five minutes. I’ve already let everyone know we’re running a little bit late.” His tone is so professional that it crawls beneath your skin, turning the bad situation even worse. 

You let out a dry laugh as you sink down towards the floor, pulling your knees closer to your chest. “Great. Forty-five minutes in this metal death trap. With you.” The irony of the situation makes you laugh again, fingers threading into your hair as you tug at your roots. “I am going to die in an elevator with my boss. My boss that hates me. This is my actual nightmare.”

As you speak, your breathing picks up noticeably, your chest tightening with the strain it takes to inhale so much air without exhaling. Your eyes shut tightly as you try to change the subject in your mind, but you can’t. You can’t feel anything but panic, running through all of the worst scenarios in your head like a fucked up Powerpoint. “Majority of the reason that elevators stop working is because of mechanical issues. Worn-out cables and malfunctioning motors. A cable could snap and we could plum -”

“Hey.” Hotch speaks, his stern voice cutting through the buzz in your ears and stopping your senseless rambling.

You are deathly aware of his presence as he crouches beside you, the sound of his jacket rustling almost deafening in the confined space you were sharing. Realizing the gravity of your panic, his hand finds your shoulder, the warmth of it burning through your blazer in a way that has you jolting beneath his touch. 

He pulls his hand away quickly as you flinch, letting it hover in the air as he sighs. “Put your head between your legs,” he instructs.

His tone is demanding enough that you’re immediately following his instruction, letting your butt hit the cold floor as you part your legs just enough to slide your head between them. With the help of your new position and softer instructions from Hotch to take deep breaths, you gulp in air like you had just been underwater, in through your nose and out through your mouth, just as he told you quietly.

Unfortunately, Hotch is right, your breathing settling slowly until you’re able to lean your head back against the wall. Peeling open your watery eyes, you’re met with his deep chocolate eyes, still stoic despite the slight care he had shown during your mini freakout. “I’m not going to die, sir,” you dryly tease, just wanting his focus off of you at this extremely embarrassing moment.

“I don’t think you’re going to die, Agent.” He responds coolly, standing up and adjusting his suit jacket. Usually, Hotch is hard to profile, good at keeping his face clear and his body relaxed, other than anger. It had become a fun little challenge to you to try and figure out what he was feeling at any given moment.

However, right now, that wasn’t the case. Despite his attempt to seem nonchalant, his eyes keep flickering over to you on the floor, his body language giving away his worry. His jaw was still clenched even as he stared forward, his fingers twitching as he fought the urge to clench his fists. It was almost too easy to read, causing you to roll your eyes.

Before you have the chance to mock him for it, he speaks, still refusing to look at you. “You’re scared of elevators?”

Huffing, you pull yourself to your feet, still keeping your back against the wall. “You’re the best profiler here. You’ve never noticed?” It was a challenge, falling off your tongue tauntingly as you purposefully stared directly at the side of his face, noting the clench of his jaw and the soft twitch of his lip.

That asshole. He was holding back a smile. 

Instead of answering your question, he finally turns towards you, his arms crossing over his chest. Your eyes flutter down to admire the way his muscular arms pushed against the sleeves of his suit jacket, only to immediately remind yourself that the man standing in front of you was not only a profiler, but your boss. “You think I’m the best profiler?”

“They didn’t give you Unit Chief for your sparkling humor,” you deadpan. You follow it up with a bittersweet smile, keen eyes noticing another twitch of his lips as you turn your body to face him, chin tilting up to look at him. Standing at six foot two, he easily towers over you, but that’s never scared you before. There is a certain power to looking up at someone that many people don’t see.

Hotch lets out a huff in place of a laugh, arms still crossed as he stares back down at you, the tilt of his lips slowly dissipating. A silence stretches over you, the only sound being a soft buzz from the emergency light ahead of you. He’s the one to break the silence again. “Do you really think I hate you?”

The question takes you by surprise, blinking up at him as you take a step back. “What?”

The man doesn’t show any evidence of being phased other than the tensing of his fingers next to his elbow. “Earlier. You said that your boss hates me. Do you think I hate you?” He repeats the question, his voice still just as calm and collected. You notice how his head dips down a bit farther towards you, slightly tilting towards the right, his body giving away his curiosity.

“Do you not?” You scoff, crossing your arms defensively over your chest, copying his stance. “You’re constantly dismissing me, facing away from me. I come up with ideas and you find a way not to do them, even when they’re good ideas. I also have a running theory that you purposefully set me up to look at the crime scene each time we fly out for a case because you’re always going to the police station first.”

It sounds stupid, saying it out loud, how much you’ve noticed about how Hotch treats you. You’re aware that you sound like a whiny brat that isn’t receiving enough attention, that there are so many things that you could focus your attention on other than your boss’ appreciation of you. There’s another side of your brain that justifies all of your actions. He was your boss, someone above you, the same guy that did your annual reviews and decided if you got your raise. He was close enough to every other agent, saying yes to “family” dinner and inviting them to watch him run his marathons.

You wanted the same treatment as everyone. You wanted to know Hotch personally, wanted to be able to invite him out for drinks, talk about your personal life and everything that troubled you. It was criminal to sit around and watch him laugh and smile with your coworkers from the sidelines, wishing that his opinion of you wasn’t so skewed that it totally ruined his perception of you.

As you mentally run through everything, the truth hits you like a freight train.

You like Hotch. Despite his composed demeanor and the cold shoulder you had received since you stepped into the bullpen of the BAU, the small bits and pieces you had seen from watching from afar had given you just enough of a glimpse of the real him that you had somehow ended up a scorned schoolgirl, giggling about the slightest things and whining when they weren’t fruitful.

Hotch’s brow furrows as he watches you closely. “What?” When you narrow your eyes back at him in confusion, he sighs. “Your face changed. You realized something. What is it?”

Rolling your lips into your mouth, you wish for the thousandth time that none of this was happening and it was just a dream. Instead of directly answering his question, you tilt your head to the side. “Do you want to get drinks sometime?”

“What?” He repeats, still staring at you like you’re having a mental breakdown. For the first time since you had met him, Hotch seems flustered, arms uncrossing to pull at the bottom of his jacket. “Uhm…”

You shake your head, a laugh bubbling in your chest. “Never mind. Forget it. Sorry. Stupid. I’m gonna stare at the wall until we’re out of here.” Following your promise, you turn around until your back is facing him, fist clenching at your side as you fight the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose.

Following a soft sigh, your name falls off of Hotch’s lips. You don’t react until his warm hand is on your shoulder, the touch burning through the fabric of your blazer as you turn around to face him.

To your surprise, a smile is on his face, the laugh lines you rarely see around his eyes deepening. “I’m sorry. I was taken aback.” He apologizes, his voice shockingly sincere. “I don’t hate you. And I’d love to get a drink with you. Seems we have a lot to learn about each other. Like the origin behind your fear for elevators,” he teases.

Rather than shoot something back, you’re too starstruck by just what had happened that you just stare up at him, your lips parted as you fight for the words to say. You’re only brought out of your daze by the thrum of the elevator starting back up, blinking as Hotch moves to talk to emergency services through the intercom again.

You are still silent as the elevator door opens to reveal the BAU bullpen, Hotch turning to give you a slight smirk. “See you during the case briefing, Agent.”

[wistfulwatcher]

in a n o t h e r life

[onlytiktoks]

[keferon]

Isn’t Vortex a fucking torture freak tho? 👀👀👀

Yep. He is. He is a lot of things actually. The more you learn about him the more fucked up it gets

[thearcticfoxz]

Yeah this is totally how Season 7 Ep 23 went, right?

[thekitsandthekats]

sorry everyone its almost midnight and im in my hotchreid feels right now. like they are so so good together, i love them as a couple so much my heart is bursting!! like aaron hotchner, cold, clinical, forever serious leader meets spencer reid boy wonder who loves magic and science and all things everywhere!! aaron who loved collecting coins as a kid and spencer who has read every book. aaron who crack dry jokes with a straight face and spencer who giggles through his delivery. aaron who can be a little flirty and a little cheeky, and spencer whose sass knows no bounds, who stares authority in the eye and doesn't flinch. aaron who lives for his job and his son, and spencer who finds incredible purpose in his work. aaron whose heart bleeds and bleeds and spencer who would raze the world for those he cares for can you hear me when i say that they are so so good together im losing it. two men with hearts of gold weighted by their sense of duty, two men who have suffered unimaginable things and come out the other side, two men who find solace in each other, in the quiet ways they exist, floating and spinning and dancing, two men who debate classic narcissism and know the bible intimately for potentially vastly different reasons, two men who understand each other, two men tethered to the fbi in ways that become both a lifeline and a drain, two men who don't care how much the job takes so long as they save one life listen to me when i say that aaron and spencer are magic together.

[astersofthesky]

Maybe the reason why yotsuba Light and pre-kira Light is so vastly different in personality (he's more 'genuine' that is) is because yotsuba Light had L that kept him from feeling that mind-numbing boredom that pre-kira Light experienced prior to getting the death note.

Pre-kira Light literally had nothing to keep him entertained and that he was too powerless to change the broken justice system, so he's more closed-off and serious, literally just living through the motions like a dead man.

On the other hand, yotsuba Light met someone who's not just on par with his intelligence, but also one insufferable enough to annoy him that never made any dull moment possible with L around. Aside from that, yotsuba Light is literally working alongside the world's greatest detective helping him solve the world's hardest case that involved the justice system, so yeah, yotsuba Light really will take L's side of "justice" because detective L is legal whereas Kira's actions are not.

[nientedal]

"but if we abolish prisons, what will we do with violent criminals? should we not lock them up so they can't hurt more people?"

questions for questions. one: are there are people who, given every support and every attempt to rehabilitate, every mitigation strategy, given resources and therapy and money and time, will still choose violence? i don't know. YOU don't know. but anything is possible, and i will freely admit i don't have the answer to that yet.

but also, two: yeah, what about them? because what i DO know, and what i need you to try to understand, is that prison already does not prevent violence. the threat of it doesn't deter violence to begin with-- look around you-- and it doesn't stop violence after the people deemed "too dangerous" are locked up. they simply commit violence against other prisoners instead.

so, the thing you're concerned about losing? the ability to prevent someone from committing violence? that's already not a thing. it is not happening. the thing you're worried about losing HAS NEVER EXISTED. "but how will we stop violent criminals from hurting people" is the first thing out of anyone's mouth in response to the idea of prison abolition, but we already don't have a solution to that! that is NOT SOLVED! you can't see the violence anymore, but it is still happening! at the hands of the guards, if not these "violent criminals" you're so worried about, so the problem of violence IS NOT SOLVED by locking people up, do you understand? no one is locked up to keep them from hurting people, they are locked up to ensure they can only hurt people whose pain has been deemed acceptable.

instead of saying, "we can't abolish prisons because violent criminals will hurt people," please ask yourself: is the current violence against disenfranchised, systemically vulnerable people so much more acceptable to you than violence against the public that you will advocate against helping people, instead of hurting them?

[reveseke]

Masc! Reader with a cat who has really violent zoomies at times (to the point of possibly knocking the furniture down or making heavy furniture sway) & a confused, and very much scared of the said cat, character just chilling as the said cat starts and the reader just goes about life like nothing's happening at all. While the character anxiously stays by their sides, investigates or possibly gets surprise attack spooked by the said cat.

[dangerdazee]

me wanting to do a full in-order rewatch

vs

my list of favorite episodes

[spotforme]

you know Mash's old man and that policeman have no reason to hang out together but he's still coming to their house, having tea, spending calm evening together, he's always there, hanging out... it's not even about mash anymore they're just together and i wish we could've seen more of them

[beware-of-you-98]

i know, i know, jj is so fucking strong and she perseveres despite everything she’s gone through, i know, but fucking hell my heart is breaking over and over for her

the far away look in her eyes

the constant fidgeting to keep herself present

the way she only has the bare minimum amount of skin showing, even to where she’s covering her hands

my heart hurts for her so much and she’s forcing herself to deal with all of this alone

[nando161mando]

"Fuck the Imperialist Death Factory! (IDF)" (EN: English)

[xo-cod]

Holy Hell! Don’t leave us on a cliffhanger please?!

How did the 141 boys react when they got the call that she had been shot? How did they catch the guy who did it? And what are they going to do to him? 😈

continued from here

disclaimer: because they are what they are (highly trained assassins 🫣), heavy mentions of stabbings and beatings, proceed with caution lmfao ‼️ rushed/ooc

"we can go all night, when you give out from exhaustion and pain. when you're begging us to kill you, when you're cryin to end your life, we're gonna be here" pulling off the bag from his face, ghost examined his features. the man winced and grimaced, gasping a little as the light flooded his vision and finally looking at his captor. standing tall at 6'4, bigger than most men ghost was certainly not someone to be trifled with. his brown eyes hardened behind his skull balaclava, twirled a knife expertly between his fingers

ghost had no sympathy for the person in front of him, he had been hunting you down for days and very nearly coming close in succeeding in his given task. all he could remember is what soap had said,"one centimeter over and it would've torn right through her heart" and it only served to further anger him when he knew you didn't have any bad intentions at all, you weren't there to hurt anyone. you only thought it was an innocent date and you have paid the price for it at a grave cost. the thought of losing you tonight only fuelled his anger, his jaw clenched tightly as his eyes remained on the man

rules were rules, threatening the 141 was punishable by death. and simon had never been so glad for it

"listen i'm sorry man, i didn't know" the man tried to justify to which ghost scoffed, cold brown eyes glancing at the sharp array of weapons on the table opposite.

"choose a better excuse, that one is overused" his chest vibrates with dark chuckles and it causes the tension in the air to suffocate, this wasn't an amused laugh. this had brought on fear and pain and ghost hadn't even inflicted anything yet. still the man's determined attitude hadn't wavered, much to simon's displeasure.

"fuck you" the man hissed and then cried out in pain when a whip slapped his abdomen, undoubtedly leaving a trail of blood in its wake. his head was yanked back as ghost grabbed a fistful of hair, his face in close proximity of the other

"listen close you bastard, i've dealt with my fair share of bloody narcissists. but you hurt y/n, you shot her. so take your bloody time i'll get what i want from you, one way or another" ghost snarled, the tip of his sharpened knife trailing down her neck circling around the man's abdomen. he screamed when the knife was twisted into the first layer of skin, gaping down to where the blood was beginning to pool on his lap.

"now all you gotta do is give me a name. and this stops right here. but if not..." ghost pushed the knife a little more deeper into the body, grinning under his mask when the man whimpered trying so hard to not scream. to try keep his composture not wanting to bring any satisfaction to the enemy

but hell, it was hanging by a small thread at this point.

"any progress?" a deeper, gravelly voice cuts in and both heads look towards the door. the man lets a small gasp as the rest of the team pile into the room. it was as if they commanded respect, demanded to be listened to. their muscles straining against their shirt, scars littering their bodies proof of the business they were, of the lives they led

"he's stubborn" ghost stops, wiping the few drops of blood from his mask. he was getting rather irritated, wanting to be at the hospital with you but forced to take care of this problem.

"he's looking worse for the wear" soap chuckled but there was no humour in his voice. all he could think about was how fragile you looked after being shot and it made him want to tear into the man but gaz and ghost would hold him back, they already were eyeing him carefully. still it was rather amusing how many people tried to kill them and yet they always seemed to be on the receiving end of the blade.

"why not kill 'im, the poor bastard" soap scoffed with sarcasm, looking at the man with pure anger, his fists clenching as he sized the man up. desperately wanting to be the one to plunge the knife so deep into his heart and watch the life fade away from his eyes. just as he had done with you

"as convenient as that sounds, we'll never end up getting our information if he's dead" gaz leans back on the table, looking at the purple and blue blotches on the man's skin. the way his hair was matted down with blood and sweat, how he looked on the verge of passing out at any given moment. they'd bring him back alive though, none of their enemies ever did have a quick painless death here. ghost had a knack for making his prisoners suffer until they physically and mentally couldn't take anymore, testing each and every brutal limit in their weak bodies. it was only a matter of time until he spilled the dark secret.

but time was not on their side.

"y-you bastards, go to hell" his voice fluctuated angrily as he tried to keep his heartbeat normal, to keep those nerves at bay. to remember his training as a soldier but these men were different, for every step he took they already knew about. he was at their mercy this time.

placing a hand deep within his pocket, the captain of the team entered the room a pensive look painted upon his features. he shifted his bucket hat, looking down at their little victim tied up to the chair as his head tilted a little.

"we're all tired from your little reign of heroism, thinking you're doing well by serving your country and your organisation. for now, you'd do well to remember we're the ones who determine whether you walk out of this building alive. i suggest you start by giving us some answers. you see, myself..." price grabbed the knife from ghost's hand in a quick flash and plunged it straight into the muscle of the man's thigh, completely unfazed at his screams and the splatter of blood coating his cargos

"well, i am not a particularly patient man"