line crime

In light of Hannibal’s “mic drop” line...

AU/headcanon where Hannibal can recite entire passages of Dante in the original Italian but is complete shit when it comes to pop culture. He tries to make up for this deficiency by slipping pop culture references and slang into his conversations. Some attempts are… more successful than others.

The streets of Rome after dark

A fresco painting of game players in a tavern on the Via di Mercurio in Pompeii

Rome was a place of narrow alleyways, a labyrinth of lanes and passageways. There was no street lighting, nowhere to throw your excrement and no police force.

The real city was the backstreets and they should be avoided after the lights went out or you risked being mugged and robbed by any group of thugs that came along.

Most rich people avoided going out after dark unless they were accompanied by private security team of slaves or their “long retinue of attendants”. The only public protection you could hope for was the paramilitary force of the night watch, the vigiles.

Exactly what these watchmen did and how effective they were is unclear. They were split into battalions across the city and their main duty was to look out for fires breaking out.

If you were a crime victim, you had no other option than to defend yourself. One particularly tricky case discussed in an ancient handbook on Roman law proves the line between crime and self-defense was very thim. The case concerns a shop-keeper who kept his business open at night and left a lamp on the counter, which faced onto the street. A man came down the street and pinched the lamp, and the man in the shop went after him, and a brawl ensued. The thief was carrying a weapon – a piece of rope with a lump of metal at the end – and he coshed the shop-keeper, who retaliated and knocked out the eye of the thief.

This presented Roman lawyers with a tricky question: was the shopkeeper liable for the injury?

Still, night-time Rome wasn’t just dangerous. There was also fun to be had in the clubs, taverns and bars late at night, if you dared to go out that is.

I Respect Cops

You should too. 

I’m sick of seeing people swallowing the media like mindless cattle. 

There is so much black on black crime and murder- and yet all that gets attention are the policemen and women who have to do their jobs and get put into a tough situation in which they HAVE TO DEFEND themselves and others by taking another human’s life. 

Don’t be part of the herd. 


It’s Myers roof dust, all the hotels use it now. It diverts the sun’s rays. Keeps the utility bills down in the summer.

Well, it was a long day. I had to cheer myself up so I grabbed my (dying) graphic tablet.

The quote is from Robin Williams’ stand up from 2009 (Weapons of Self Destruction). Best pickup line EVER! Robin, thanks for putting a smile on my face. The world misses you so badly!

Author: criminalized-writing

Word Count: 360

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warning: Major character death

A/N: This is just something I got the idea for in the middle of the night.

     Police cars littered a crowded street in D.C. as people gathered outside the perimeter of the police line around the crime scene. A single black SUV pulled into the area quickly, sirens blaring and lights flashing. Three figures exited the vehicle and glided through the crowd with ease with a flash of their badges. Spencer led JJ and Penelope upstairs to the apartment he knew all too well. Upon entering, the faces of Aaron, Rossi, and Morgan turned to look at them, a white sheet between them on the floor. They gathered around the sheet, and it was eerily silent for a while.

     “A-are you sure it’s her?” Penelope could barely speak, refusing to believe that her best friend was beneath the fabric. The M.E. leaned down and folded the fabric down to her collarbone, exposing (Y/N)’s face to the team. Spencer stared at her lifeless body, a hand covering his mouth as tears pooled in his eyes. Those eyes that were once so filled with life were dull as they stared up at the ceiling. Penelope couldn’t hold in her sobs. Derek took her into his arms as she cried, silently grieving the loss of his friend and colleague.

     Rossi couldn’t even look at her. It was too much, too many emotions to take in at once. Aaron tried to keep his emotions hidden, but failed as a silent tear slid down his face. JJ’s eyes were red and glossy with unshed tears as she looked at Spencer. The woman he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with was reduced to nothing but a corpse.

     “Did she suffer?” Aaron asked as he wiped his eyes.

     “She was stabbed forty-three times. Whoever did this wanted to make sure she died slowly and painfully.” The M.E. responded, moving to cover the young agent’s face again. Rossi shook his head. She was so pale. Her left hand was sticking out of the sheet, and Spencer could see the glint of the stone on her ring finger. JJ noticed his line of sight and took in a shaky breath.

     “I am so sorry, Spence.”

Developmental writing

I remember I used to think
That all poetry had to rhyme
I would list the alphabet from A-Z
And somehow manage to rhyme the last word of a phrase
With the last word of the line a couple of lines before
(For example, crime, lime, dime, etc.)
And then I read a book of poetry;
Realized it didn’t all have to rhyme.
I tried my best to emulate her style
and then I had writer’s block for 11 years (or was it longer?)
One day I read some poems from someone younger than me
Whose work I admired
And I had someone in my life
That inspired…
The words came back.
They had never really left -
I just wasn’t writing them down.