#Community Recognition Police

[townpostin]

Jugsalai Traffic Police Honored For Road Safety Efforts

Community Recognizes Officers’ Work In Enforcing Rules And Raising Awareness Local social workers present bouquets and shawls to traffic police team. JAMSHEDPUR – Jugsalai Traffic Police Station In-charge Rajan Kumar and his team were honored on Wednesday for their dedication to enforcing traffic rules and promoting road safety. "We appreciate the police’s efforts in making our roads safer,"…

[saddayfordemocracy]

How the Watermelon Became a Symbol of Palestinian Solidarity

The use of the watermelon as a Palestinian symbol is not new. It first emerged after the Six-day War in 1967, when Israel seized control of the West Bank and Gaza, and annexed East Jerusalem. At the time, the Israeli government made public displays of the Palestinian flag a criminal offense in Gaza and the West Bank. 

To circumvent the ban, Palestinians began using the watermelon because, when cut open, the fruit bears the national colors of the Palestinian flag—red, black, white, and green.  

The Israeli government didn't just crack down on the flag. Artist Sliman Mansour told The National in 2021 that Israeli officials in 1980 shut down an exhibition at 79 Gallery in Ramallah featuring his work and others, including Nabil Anani and Issam Badrl. “They told us that painting the Palestinian flag was forbidden, but also the colors were forbidden. So Issam said, ‘What if I were to make a flower of red, green, black and white?’, to which the officer replied angrily, ‘It will be confiscated. Even if you paint a watermelon, it will be confiscated,’” Mansour told the outlet.

Israel lifted the ban on the Palestinian flag in 1993, as part of the Oslo Accords, which entailed mutual recognition by Israel and the Palestinian Liberation Organization and were the first formal agreements to try to resolve the decades-long Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The flag was accepted as representing the Palestinian Authority, which would administer Gaza and the West Bank.

In the wake of the accords, the New York Times nodded to the role of watermelon as a stand-in symbol during the flag ban. “In the Gaza Strip, where young men were once arrested for carrying sliced watermelons—thus displaying the red, black and green Palestinian colors—soldiers stand by, blasé, as processions march by waving the once-banned flag,” wrote Times journalist John Kifner.

In 2007, just after the Second Intifada, artist Khaled Hourani created The Story of the Watermelon for a book entitled Subjective Atlas of Palestine. In 2013, he isolated one print and named it The Colours of the Palestinian Flag, which has since been seen by people across the globe.

The use of the watermelon as a symbol resurged in 2021, following an Israeli court ruling that Palestinian families based in the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood in East Jerusalem would be evicted from their homes to make way for settlers.

The watermelon symbol today:

In January, Israel’s National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir gave police the power to confiscate Palestinian flags. This was later followed by a June vote on a bill to ban people from displaying the flag at state-funded institutions, including universities. (The bill passed preliminary approval but the government later collapsed.)

In June, Zazim, an Arab-Israeli community organization, launched a campaign to protest against the ensuing arrests and confiscation of flags. Images of watermelons were plastered on to 16 taxis operating in Tel Aviv, with the accompanying text reading, “This is not a Palestinian flag.”

“Our message to the government is clear: we will always find a way to circumvent any absurd ban and we will not stop fighting for freedom of expression and democracy,” said Zazim director Raluca Ganea. 

Amal Saad, a Palestinian from Haifa who worked on the Zazim campaign, told Al-Jazeera they had a clear message: “If you want to stop us, we’ll find another way to express ourselves.”

Words courtesy of BY ARMANI SYED / TIME

[eldar-of-zemlya]

To Boldly Sew: The Creation of Star Trek's Iconic Wardrobe

Gene Roddenberry’s arguments with NASA, costumes crafted from shower curtains, male characters in miniskirts, and why the gold command uniforms were actually green—this is the story of Star Trek’s groundbreaking wardrobe and the visionary work of the man behind it, Bill Theiss.

If you’d like to read the formatted article with easily accessible references, you can also find it on AO3.

During the production of the original Star Trek, the creative team faced numerous challenges, the most persistent being, unsurprisingly, the show’s limited budget. These restrictions had a significant impact on many aspects of the series, including one of its most crucial visual elements: the wardrobe.

Each week, the costume department was tasked with creating original outfits for the show’s characters. Alien civilizations had to look distinct and believable without distracting from the storyline—all while staying within a tight budget. To achieve this, the team employed clever tricks, such as repurposing and dyeing old uniforms, turning garments inside out, and even fashioning costumes from unconventional materials like vinyl shower curtains.

"Sometimes a show will call for 30 or 40 costumes," explained Star Trek’s costume designer William "Bill" Theiss. "And since we film back to back, that means I have to design, get approval from the producers and director, and construct the costumes in six to eight days." [Source]

Commander Spock and Lieutenant Tormohlen don "protective suits" fashioned from shower curtains as they investigate the mysterious death of a mannequin crew member. (Season 1, Episode 4, "The Naked Time.")

Theiss was a key figure in shaping the visual identity of Star Trek’s universe. Over the course of the show’s three seasons, he designed costumes for a wide range of characters, from blue-skinned Andorians to the infamous Orion slave girls, and even the Nazi-inspired inhabitants of the planet Ekos. (Interestingly, the episode Patterns of Force, featuring Ekos, was banned from German television until 1995 due to its controversial themes.) [Source]

Theiss first met Star Trek creator Gene Roddenberry while Roddenberry was developing the show’s pilot. At the time, Theiss had gained attention for his innovative work on the science fiction play The Veldt, based on Ray Bradbury’s short story of the same name. This caught the eye of Star Trek writer Dorothy Catherine Fontana, who introduced Theiss to Roddenberry. By then, Roddenberry had already interviewed over a dozen costume designers but had yet to find someone who could bring his vision to life. Theiss’s creative approach, which often involved crafting unique costumes from unconventional materials, immediately resonated with Roddenberry. Their collaboration would continue for decades, even though, amusingly, Theiss never learned how to sew. [Source]

After the original Star Trek series was canceled, Theiss and Roddenberry remained close collaborators, working together on various projects until Roddenberry’s passing in 1991.

Left: William Theiss adjusts Susan Oliver's costume on the set of the 1965 pilot episode, "The Cage."

Right: William Theiss and Leonard Nimoy on the set of Season 2, Episode 26, "Assignment: Earth" (1968).

When designing Star Trek’s now-iconic multi-colored uniforms, Roddenberry drew inspiration from the color-coded uniforms used on American naval vessels, where quick role recognition was essential in low-visibility environments. As a former military pilot during World War II and later a police officer, Roddenberry had firsthand experience with structured, hierarchical organizations. These influences shaped not only Star Trek’s command structure but also its visual design. [Source]

Each division was assigned a distinct color: engineers, communications officers, and security personnel wore red; medical staff and scientists were dressed in blue; and command officers wore—believe it or not—green. (But more on that later.) All uniforms were paired with dark ash-colored trousers and high boots.

Star Trek is not typically associated with realism, which makes it surprising to learn that NASA was involved in the show’s production, offering advice to ensure it was "scientifically believable." Among their suggestions was the idea that 23rd-century astronauts might wear form-fitting jumpsuits. However, Gene Roddenberry dismissed the concept, humorously referring to the design as “long underwear.”

NBC, on the other hand, had entirely different priorities. The network insisted that female Starfleet officers wear more revealing attire, a demand that clashed with Roddenberry’s vision of a future where women were treated as equals to men. In the first pilot episode, The Cage (1965), Roddenberry boldly dressed female characters in pants—an unconventional choice for 1960s television. However, after much debate with the network, a compromise was reached: miniskirts. Highly fashionable at the time, they were paired with shorts and dark tights, blending contemporary trends with Star Trek’s futuristic aesthetic. [Source]

Captain Pike and a group of serious women in pants protect the heroine from an ass-headed very wise alien. The first pilot of Star Trek, "The Cage" (1965).

Years later, when NBC faced accusations of sexism and objectifying women, Nichelle Nichols, who played Uhura, defended the wardrobe choice in a BBC interview. She explained that the miniskirts weren’t unusual or inappropriate for the era:

“I was wearing them on the street. What's wrong with wearing them in the air? I wore 'em on airplanes. It was the era of the miniskirt. Everybody wore miniskirts.” [Source]

Grace Lee Whitney, who portrayed Janice Rand, echoed Nichols’s sentiment, adding that she “didn't think the women should be in pants” and that she wanted to “look like Flash Gordon” on screen. [Source]

Meanwhile, costume designer Bill Theiss had his own, more subtle approach to creating “revealing” costumes.

“He felt that revealing non-sexual flesh (the outside of the leg, off one shoulder, the back) promised that the viewer would see more — but they never did,” explained screenwriter D.C. Fontana, citing the gown worn by Lt. Palamas in Who Mourns for Adonais? as a prime example. [Source]

Lieutenant Palamas's "ancient Greek" dress from the episode "Who Mourns for Adonais?" alongside William Theiss's original sketch for the design.

When designing the original Star Trek uniforms, Theiss was tasked with creating something that reflected military influences while also looking futuristic and remaining inexpensive to produce. His approach was practical:

“As for where I get my ideas from… well, I don’t get them from my dreams or anything. Mainly, I get them from fabric that I see that’s available; I look for interesting patterns in the material itself,” Theiss once explained. [Source]

For the first two seasons, the Star Trek uniforms were made from velour, a newly invented fabric that was cheap, easy to maintain, and had an appealing sheen under studio lights. However, velour had its drawbacks: it tore easily (as evidenced by Captain Kirk’s frequent shirt-ripping battle scenes...) and shrank significantly after dry cleaning. Since the costumes had to be cleaned after every episode, viewers may notice that the uniforms became progressively tighter throughout the first two seasons. By the third season, velour was replaced with double-knit nylon, a more durable fabric used in professional baseball uniforms.

Left: Kirk's velour shirt from Season 1, Episode 10, "The Corbomite Maneuver." Right: The same shirt in Season 2, Episode 22, "By Any Other Name." Shatner is diligently sucking in his stomach.

This brings us to another interesting aspect of the original velour uniforms—their appearance on screen.

“It was one of those film stock things,” Theiss explained. “It photographed one way—burnt orange or gold. But in reality, it was another; the command shirts were definitely green.” [Source]

So, what color was Captain Kirk's uniform really? In truth, Kirk's uniform—like the rest of the command crew's—was olive green. However, under the bright studio lighting and the quirks of 1960s film stock, it appeared gold on screen. The greener hue becomes more noticeable in scenes filmed on location with natural light. The difference is also evident in photos of the original uniforms on display, such as those taken at an exhibit in Detroit, USA. In one image, taken under dimmer lighting without flash, the fabric looks closer to its true green color; in another, taken with flash, it appears more golden.

Left: Kirk's velour shirt photographed without flash—olive green. Right: Kirk's velour shirt photographed with flash—yellow gold.

This might come as a surprise to Star Trek fans, but it makes sense when you consider that Kirk's alternate uniforms—the wrap-around tunic and dress uniform—were distinctly green. This wasn’t an intentional design difference; those variations were simply made from a different fabric that didn’t react to light the way velour did.

“The problem is that a lot of my work is seen on screen for only two to three seconds, and even then, it might be in bad light or at a bad angle,” Theiss noted. “But then, you can't really justify taking two hours to light and block a scene just to showcase a costume.” The play's the thing, according to Theiss. "That's what it's really all about. It's not about the costumes." [Source]

The color discrepancy of the uniforms became an interesting challenge when animators began working on Star Trek: The Animated Series in 1973. They had to decide whether to depict the uniforms in their originally intended green or the gold shade that had become iconic to audiences.

At the time of Star Trek's release, many viewers were watching on black-and-white televisions, making it impossible for them to discern the true colors of the uniforms. At the Kirk/Spock convention, @kiscon, I spoke to a longtime Trek fan who told me she had no idea what color the uniforms were when she first watched the show as a teen. For those fortunate enough to see the series in color, however, the command uniforms became strongly associated with yellow. As a result, changing the uniforms to their intended green in Star Trek: The Animated Series would likely have confused audiences who had grown accustomed to the gold appearance on screen.

Ultimately, the gold uniform was canonized in The Animated Series and used in all fan materials until the release of the Star Trek feature films. Meanwhile, the trousers—whose color had also been slightly distorted on film—remained their original dark ash shade.

Because of these discrepancies, fans often debate which version of the uniform to follow when cosplaying or creating visual content. Many cosplayers choose to replicate the original olive-colored velour, trusting that proper lighting will naturally recreate the golden appearance seen on screen. Others opt for the now-iconic gold shade, reflecting the way the uniform has been depicted in official materials for decades.

Star Trek: The Animated Series (1973).

Ironically, NASA was right in its assumption that jumpsuits would become the norm for astronauts, and Roddenberry was forced to use them in the first feature-length Star Trek film, 1979's Star Trek: The Motion Picture. The multi-colored shirts were rejected by the studio as too garish, and the miniskirts worn by Uhura and most of the female crew members were already considered a relic of the sexist 1960s by 1979.

William Theiss, who designed the costumes for the original series, was too busy with other projects to work on the film, so Gene Roddenberry brought in a new costume designer, Robert Fletcher, who created the Starfleet uniforms now remembered as the worst in the franchise's history. In an effort to avoid comparisons to military uniforms, the studio opted for muted tones ranging from pale blue to dirty beige and nude shades. The result? The Enterprise crew looked more like spa staff than starship officers, and some background extras in nude-tone bodysuits appeared practically naked on screen. Not only did these uniforms make it impossible to distinguish the characters' ranks and departments, but they were also surprisingly impractical. The suits were sewn onto the actors' shoes, meaning they needed an assistant every time they went to the bathroom.

Star Trek: The Motion Picture (1979).

Luckily for us all, in the next film, Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982), it wasn’t just Khan who was filled with rage—the cast themselves rebelled and outright refused to wear the dreadful jumpsuits again.

Despite the failure of his design, Robert Fletcher remained as costume designer for the next three films, promising changes. In Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, the uniforms returned to a more military style, with the lead actors wearing maroon jackets with overlapping lapels that they could dramatically unbutton if their character was meant to look tired or stressed. If you look closely, you’ll notice that these maroon uniforms were actually redyed and slightly modified versions of the jumpsuits from The Motion Picture. The reason for the maroon color? It was the best shade that worked with the existing fabric from the first film. [Source]

William Theiss, reflecting on Fletcher’s designs, commented:

“Bob Fletcher is a very fine designer, and I mean that very sincerely. We don’t design the same way, and there’s no reason we should—or could. It’s apples and oranges. But my personal feeling is, if you go to a structured, woven fabric and do the kind of tailoring and structuring he’s done, it puts those costumes back, historically, 500 years, with shoulder seams and shoulder pads of that type.” [Source]

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982). Everyone turned red with anger.

In Star Trek: The Next Generation, Roddenberry reunited with Bill Theiss, and together they decided to bring back the iconic miniskirts as part of the uniform, but with a twist—they wanted to make them inclusive. In The Next Generation, male crew members were occasionally seen wearing the same miniskirts or “scants” (a hybrid of skirts and pants), reflecting Roddenberry and Theiss’s vision of a future where gender norms no longer dictated clothing choices.

However, the social climate of the 1980s and 1990s wasn’t as receptive to this progressive idea.

“Having both actresses and actors in skirts was meant to diffuse any sexist accusations that might have been associated with designs from the old show,” Theiss explained. “It’s also fashionably probable that, 400 years from now, men would wear skants. Even so, there was usually a problem on the set,” he admits, “because some wisecracks were always made.” Theiss emphasized that he wanted his actors to feel at ease in the designs. “I won’t force an actor or actress to wear something they’re not at least 80 percent comfortable with.” [Source]

While Theiss’s designs were undeniably groundbreaking, he was known to be a challenging person to work with. Constantly preoccupied with time and budget constraints, Theiss had little patience for anyone—whether they were directors, producers, or even Gene Roddenberry himself. He was even less tolerant of people who approached him simply to praise or critique his work, or even just to say hello. His philosophy was simple: “Better to be rude than to delay filming.”

Actors, extras, and costume assistants often recalled how Theiss would dart around the set, frantically hemming, tucking, and adjusting costumes between takes. Many of the alien outfits seen on the show weren’t actually "costumes" in the traditional sense. Instead, they were often assembled from patches, ribbons, scarves, curtains, and wire, with actors being "stitched into" them directly on set. [Source]

For example, Janice Rand's iconic beehive hairstyle was crafted from several wigs braided together over a cone. Grace Lee Whitney, who played Rand, recalls running back and forth between the dressing room and Roddenberry’s office with Theiss, constantly piling on more hair. Each time, Roddenberry would stare at her intensely, then declare, “Higher!” Whitney and Theiss would rush back to add more wigs until the hairstyle reached its iconic height. [Source]

One Smithsonian Institute employee, who worked with Theiss in 1992 while preparing for a Star Trek costume exhibit, recalls combing through the Paramount warehouse filled with racks and boxes of costumes. She was amazed to discover that most of the "costumes" were actually scraps of fabric neatly hung on a single hanger. Yet, when these scraps were sewn, tied, and pinned together, they became the iconic designs we now associate with Star Trek.

Andrea Weaver, one of Theiss’s fellow costume designers on the original series, remembers:

“Bill Theiss was a creative designer. His designs for Star Trek were original, rather than distilled from other sources or redefinitions of previous works. This is what I appreciated about Bill Theiss. I thought he was a truly unique and rare costume creator.” [Source]

William Ware Theiss’s contributions to Star Trek are legendary. His uniforms for both Star Trek: The Original Series and Star Trek: The Next Generation remain iconic, instantly recognizable even by those who aren’t fans of the franchise. His innovative, DIY approach to creating futuristic costumes brought a distinctive charm to the original series and left an enduring legacy.

Here are some of his most memorable designs:

Left: Season 2, Episode 11: "Friday's Child" Right: Season 3, Episode 13: "Elaan of Troyius"

Left: Season 1, Episode 15: "Shore Leave" Right: Season 3, Episode 20: "The Way to Eden"

Left: Season 2, Episode 1: "Amok Time" Right: Season 1, Episode 23: "A Taste of Armageddon"

Left: Season 2, Episode 9: "Metamorphosis" Right: Season 1, Episode 6: "Mudd's Women"

Left: Season 3, Episode 5: "Is There in Truth No Beauty?" Right: Season 1, Episode 15: "Shore Leave"

Left: Season 1, Episode 23: "A Taste of Armageddon"Right: Season 2, Episode 16: "The Gamesters of Triskelion"

Left: Season 3, Episode 11: "Wink of an Eye" Right: Season 3, Episode 8: "For the World Is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky"

[postcardsfromheapside]

What a crazy fucking thing that people are mad that VG doesn't make you the most important person in the world.

I do wonder how many of these people ever leave their fantasy world where they're desperate to be the hero, and do anything actionable in the real world. Away from keyboard, you aren't the main character.

There's a pretty good, if culturally limited, Great Courses series by Tom Shippey called "Heroes and Legends," whose first episode starts with Tolkien, and the unlikeliness of Bilbo and Frodo as some of the most popular heroes of all time. Even if you never listen to the rest of the series, that first episode is worth listening to for the insights into Tolkien, and because it delves into why hobbits were a new kind of hero, unexpected and yet somehow waited for. (I have a point, I promise)

Cultural norms about heroism had drastically changed in Tolkien's time. Two world wars, rapid industrialization, pandemic, and death on an unimaginable scale (among other issues) had turned people cynical, and the image of a traditional hero was no longer viable. The episode talks about how regular, ordinary people were being called to do impossible things, from serving in the trenches to average citizens on the homefront living with increasing effects of total war. It was a different kind of bravery, unsung, unrecognized, and often you screwed up your courage in the dark with little support from others. These people weren't prepared to go through these odds, they weren't trained to handle the kind of mechanization and sickness and depletion and death these wars leveled on them. And yet, they rose to the challenge. That's what these hobbits ultimately represented. Shippey uses lines from both The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings to exemplify the "cold courage," the "3 o'clock in the morning courage" Bilbo and Frodo must summon. The kind of courage to do deeds that ultimately won't be recognized by their peers when they come home, as veterans often are.

I've thought a lot about this with Rook. Rook is just "some guy". Yes, Varric picked them because they're good at lateral thinking and holding a team together. But they aren't "a chosen one." With the exception of the wardens, none of the factions Rook works with are "traditional heroes". And even by the time of VG, the wardens are still suffering the tarnish from Adamant, led by a First Warden who seems more politician than military commander. Many of the quests Rook goes on are tasks that earn them favor with a faction, but not necessarily with the 'head' of that faction - it's often something you do in private, unlauded except by one or two individuals who don't really have social or political standing. You're literally doing things because you're a nice person, who cares about people in the communities you're trying to achieve ties with. If you sink into the character of your Rook, these tasks aren't easy. It's not "easy" to chase down darkspawn as a non-warden in catacombs. It's not easy to chase down demons. It's definitely not easy to fight a giant blighted dragon no one will ever know you faced because it's in the crossroads, and who is going to know about all those Venatori you chase down dark alleys? You don't get public recognition for these things.

I think about Rook a lot because in the past 10-20 years, our world has also drastically shifted. I think about the factions and how except for one, they aren't specialized military forces, they're just people, and the one special force has been drastically, purposefully depleted. I think about how in the real world, despite everything that's happened, people are still being told to get up and go to work as if things haven't gone utterly mad. As if we didn't live through a pandemic where millions died, and we moved on in the name of capitalism. As if fascists aren't taking over (as they were in Tolkien's time, because it's all just a little bit of history repeating). As if technology isn't being used to police us.

Rook isn't "main character enough" because Rook is meant to be every one of us - someone capable of standing up as long as they keep on trying, with a whole team beside them. Because the point was that Rook couldn't save Thedas without everyone else. This wasn't about killing one archdemon, or sealing a breach. It was too big, it needed the whole team, it the factions. Just like it's going to require more than one person to save us from where we're headed IRL.

Heroism is shifting, because the world is shifting. We have to think of ourselves as parts of a larger team working for the common good, not the lone-wolf hero.

That was the whole point of foiling Rook against Solas.

[schizodiaries]

World Schizophrenia Day was a couple months ago (May 24th), and I had intended to publish this post on that day but I couldn’t finish it in time, so consider this a belated Schizophrenia Day post, or perhaps this can be a Disability Pride Month post!

I want to send positive energies to all people on the schizophrenia spectrum, but I want to give a special shoutout to those who don’t get enough recognition, or are often forgotten in our community:

Early onset schizophrenics, or those who are diagnosed as children or teens.

People with schizotypal personality disorder, delusional disorder, schizoaffective disorder, or schizophreniform disorder.

The schizophrenics who are considered gravely disabled and therefore cannot live independently or care for themselves on their own.

Homeless schizophrenics, especially those without access to mental health treatment.

The schizophrenic people throughout history who never got the chance to be diagnosed or treated.

Schizophrenics part of other marginalized groups, like schizophrenic people of color and queer schizophrenics.

The schizophrenics who have to be institutionalized long term and don’t currently have access to the outside world.

Schizospec people who also live with physical disabilities.

The “crazy” or “scary” schizophrenics- those who talk to themselves, behave aggressively, act unpredictably, or have unusual beliefs.

People who were misdiagnosed with schizophrenia, but turned out to have a different illness, and vice versa.

People who have schizospec disorders alongside other mental disorders, like autism, DID, personality disorders, mood disorders, and so on.

Schizospec people who are not “out,” who have to mask and appear neurotypical, whether it’s for safety or other reasons.

Unmedicated schizophrenics, whether by choice or reasons out of their control.

The schizophrenic survivors of abuse at the hands of their family, partners, or medical staff.

Schizophrenic victims of police brutality.

The schizophrenics that we lost to suicide.

And there are still so many more of us. (If you feel like I left anyone out, feel free to respond to this post with any additions you have.)

Happy World Schizophrenia Day / Disability Pride Month to all of you, from one schizospec to another. The world is a more beautiful place with you in it. I hope there will come a day when we don’t have to be ashamed of who we are. And I hope we can all find it within ourselves to not only survive, but thrive, in a world that likes to demonize us. So let’s all be here for one another, and remember you are never alone. I have so much gratitude the schizospec community for teaching me how to love and accept myself, and I wish the same for all of us. I love you, I see you, and I hope you can live happy and fulfilling lives, schizophrenia and all 🩷

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Big Tech disrupted disruption

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/08/permanent-overlords/#republicans-want-to-defund-the-police

Before "disruption" turned into a punchline, it was a genuinely exciting idea. Using technology, we could connect people to one another and allow them to collaborate, share, and cooperate to make great things happen.

It's easy (and valid) to dismiss the "disruption" of Uber, which "disrupted" taxis and transit by losing $31b worth of Saudi royal money in a bid to collapse the world's rival transportation system, while quietly promising its investors that it would someday have pricing power as a monopoly, and would attain profit through price-gouging and wage-theft.

Uber's disruption story was wreathed in bullshit: lies about the "independence" of its drivers, about the imminence of self-driving taxis, about the impact that replacing buses and subways with millions of circling, empty cars would have on traffic congestion. There were and are plenty of problems with traditional taxis and transit, but Uber magnified these problems, under cover of "disrupting" them away.

But there are other feats of high-tech disruption that were and are genuinely transformative – Wikipedia, GNU/Linux, RSS, and more. These disruptive technologies altered the balance of power between powerful institutions and the businesses, communities and individuals they dominated, in ways that have proven both beneficial and durable.

When we speak of commercial disruption today, we usually mean a tech company disrupting a non-tech company. Tinder disrupts singles bars. Netflix disrupts Blockbuster. Airbnb disrupts Marriott.

But the history of "disruption" features far more examples of tech companies disrupting other tech companies: DEC disrupts IBM. Netscape disrupts Microsoft. Google disrupts Yahoo. Nokia disrupts Kodak, sure – but then Apple disrupts Nokia. It's only natural that the businesses most vulnerable to digital disruption are other digital businesses.

And yet…disruption is nowhere to be seen when it comes to the tech sector itself. Five giant companies have been running the show for more than a decade. A couple of these companies (Apple, Microsoft) are Gen-Xers, having been born in the 70s, then there's a couple of Millennials (Amazon, Google), and that one Gen-Z kid (Facebook). Big Tech shows no sign of being disrupted, despite the continuous enshittification of their core products and services. How can this be? Has Big Tech disrupted disruption itself?

That's the contention of "Coopting Disruption," a new paper from two law profs: Mark Lemley (Stanford) and Matthew Wansley (Yeshiva U):

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4713845

The paper opens with a review of the literature on disruption. Big companies have some major advantages: they've got people and infrastructure they can leverage to bring new products to market more cheaply than startups. They've got existing relationships with suppliers, distributors and customers. People trust them.

Diversified, monopolistic companies are also able to capture "involuntary spillovers": when Google spends money on AI for image recognition, it can improve Google Photos, YouTube, Android, Search, Maps and many other products. A startup with just one product can't capitalize on these spillovers in the same way, so it doesn't have the same incentives to spend big on R&D.

Finally, big companies have access to cheap money. They get better credit terms from lenders, they can float bonds, they can tap the public markets, or just spend their own profits on R&D. They can also afford to take a long view, because they're not tied to VCs whose funds turn over every 5-10 years. Big companies get cheap money, play a long game, pay less to innovate and get more out of innovation.

But those advantages are swamped by the disadvantages of incumbency, all the various curses of bigness. Take Arrow's "replacement effect": new companies that compete with incumbents drive down the incumbents' prices and tempt their customers away. But an incumbent that buys a disruptive new company can just shut it down, and whittle down its ideas to "sustaining innovation" (small improvements to existing products), killing "disruptive innovation" (major changes that make the existing products obsolete).

Arrow's Replacement Effect also comes into play before a new product even exists. An incumbent that allows a rival to do R&D that would eventually disrupt its product is at risk; but if the incumbent buys this pre-product, R&D-heavy startup, it can turn the research to sustaining innovation and defund any disruptive innovation.

Arrow asks us to look at the innovation question from the point of view of the company as a whole. Clayton Christensen's "Innovator's Dilemma" looks at the motivations of individual decision-makers in large, successful companies. These individuals don't want to disrupt their own business, because that will render some part of their own company obsolete (perhaps their own division!). They also don't want to radically change their customers' businesses, because those customers would also face negative effects from disruption.

A startup, by contrast, has no existing successful divisions and no giant customers to safeguard. They have nothing to lose and everything to gain from disruption. Where a large company has no way for individual employees to initiate major changes in corporate strategy, a startup has fewer hops between employees and management. What's more, a startup that rewards an employee's good idea with a stock-grant ties that employee's future finances to the outcome of that idea – while a giant corporation's stock bonuses are only incidentally tied to the ideas of any individual worker.

Big companies are where good ideas go to die. If a big company passes on its employees' cool, disruptive ideas, that's the end of the story for that idea. But even if 100 VCs pass on a startup's cool idea and only one VC funds it, the startup still gets to pursue that idea. In startup land, a good idea gets lots of chances – in a big company, it only gets one.

Given how innately disruptable tech companies are, given how hard it is for big companies to innovate, and given how little innovation we've gotten from Big Tech, how is it that the tech giants haven't been disrupted?

The authors propose a four-step program for the would-be Tech Baron hoping to defend their turf from disruption.

First, gather information about startups that might develop disruptive technologies and steer them away from competing with you, by investing in them or partnering with them.

Second, cut off any would-be competitor's supply of resources they need to develop a disruptive product that challenges your own.

Third, convince the government to pass regulations that big, established companies can comply with but that are business-killing challenges for small competitors.

Finally, buy up any company that resists your steering, succeeds despite your resource war, and escapes the compliance moats of regulation that favors incumbents.

Then: kill those companies.

The authors proceed to show that all four tactics are in play today. Big Tech companies operate their own VC funds, which means they get a look at every promising company in the field, even if they don't want to invest in them. Big Tech companies are also awash in money and their "rival" VCs know it, and so financial VCs and Big Tech collude to fund potential disruptors and then sell them to Big Tech companies as "aqui-hires" that see the disruption neutralized.

On resources, the authors focus on data, and how companies like Facebook have explicit policies of only permitting companies they don't see as potential disruptors to access Facebook data. They reproduce internal Facebook strategy memos that divide potential platform users into "existing competitors, possible future competitors, [or] developers that we have alignment with on business models." These categories allow Facebook to decide which companies are capable of developing disruptive products and which ones aren't. For example, Amazon – which doesn't compete with Facebook – is allowed to access FB data to target shoppers. But Messageme, a startup, was cut off from Facebook as soon as management perceived them as a future rival. Ironically – but unsurprisingly – Facebook spins these policies as pro-privacy, not anti-competitive.

These data policies cast a long shadow. They don't just block existing companies from accessing the data they need to pursue disruptive offerings – they also "send a message" to would-be founders and investors, letting them know that if they try to disrupt a tech giant, they will have their market oxygen cut off before they can draw breath. The only way to build a product that challenges Facebook is as Facebook's partner, under Facebook's direction, with Facebook's veto.

Next, regulation. Starting in 2019, Facebook started publishing full-page newspaper ads calling for regulation. Someone ghost-wrote a Washington Post op-ed under Zuckerberg's byline, arguing the case for more tech regulation. Google, Apple, OpenAI other tech giants have all (selectively) lobbied in favor of many regulations. These rules covered a lot of ground, but they all share a characteristic: complying with them requires huge amounts of money – money that giant tech companies can spare, but potential disruptors lack.

Finally, there's predatory acquisitions. Mark Zuckerberg, working without the benefit of a ghost writer (or in-house counsel to review his statements for actionable intent) has repeatedly confessed to buying companies like Instagram to ensure that they never grow to be competitors. As he told one colleague, "I remember your internal post about how Instagram was our threat and not Google+. You were basically right. The thing about startups though is you can often acquire them.”

All the tech giants are acquisition factories. Every successful Google product, almost without exception, is a product they bought from someone else. By contrast, Google's own internal products typically crash and burn, from G+ to Reader to Google Videos. Apple, meanwhile, buys 90 companies per year – Tim Apple brings home a new company for his shareholders more often than you bring home a bag of groceries for your family. All the Big Tech companies' AI offerings are acquisitions, and Apple has bought more AI companies than any of them.

Big Tech claims to be innovating, but it's really just operationalizing. Any company that threatens to disrupt a tech giant is bought, its products stripped of any really innovative features, and the residue is added to existing products as a "sustaining innovation" – a dot-release feature that has all the innovative disruption of rounding the corners on a new mobile phone.

The authors present three case-studies of tech companies using this four-point strategy to forestall disruption in AI, VR and self-driving cars. I'm not excited about any of these three categories, but it's clear that the tech giants are worried about them, and the authors make a devastating case for these disruptions being disrupted by Big Tech.

What do to about it? If we like (some) disruption, and if Big Tech is enshittifying at speed without facing dethroning-by-disruption, how do we get the dynamism and innovation that gave us the best of tech?

The authors make four suggestions.

First, revive the authorities under existing antitrust law to ban executives from Big Tech companies from serving on the boards of startups. More broadly, kill interlocking boards altogether. Remember, these powers already exist in the lawbooks, so accomplishing this goal means a change in enforcement priorities, not a new act of Congress or rulemaking. What's more, interlocking boards between competing companies are illegal per se, meaning there's no expensive, difficult fact-finding needed to demonstrate that two companies are breaking the law by sharing directors.

Next: create a nondiscrimination policy that requires the largest tech companies that share data with some unaffiliated companies to offer data on the same terms to other companies, except when they are direct competitors. They argue that this rule will keep tech giants from choking off disruptive technologies that make them obsolete (rather than competing with them).

On the subject of regulation and compliance moats, they have less concrete advice. They counsel lawmakers to greet tech giants' demands to be regulated with suspicion, to proceed with caution when they do regulate, and to shape regulation so that it doesn't limit market entry, by keeping in mind the disproportionate burdens regulations put on established giants and small new companies. This is all good advice, but it's more a set of principles than any kind of specific practice, test or procedure.

Finally, they call for increased scrutiny of mergers, including mergers between very large companies and small startups. They argue that existing law (Sec 2 of the Sherman Act and Sec 7 of the Clayton Act) both empower enforcers to block these acquisitions. They admit that the case-law on this is poor, but that just means that enforcers need to start making new case-law.

I like all of these suggestions! We're certainly enjoying a more activist set of regulators, who are more interested in Big Tech, than we've seen in generations.

But they are grossly under-resourced even without giving them additional duties. As Matt Stoller points out, "the DOJ's Antitrust Division has fewer people enforcing anti-monopoly laws in a $24 trillion economy than the Smithsonian Museum has security guards."

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/congressional-republicans-to-defund

What's more, Republicans are trying to slash their budgets even further. The American conservative movement has finally located a police force they're eager to defund: the corporate police who defend us all from predatory monopolies.

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[metamorphesque]

ASALA: Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia (part 1)

In 1915, ottoman turkey committed the Genocide of Armenians: more than 1.5 million Armenians were massacred.

Women were assaulted, raped, sexually mutilated and tortured. Many were killed by bayoneting or died from prolonged sexual abuse. The “lucky ones” managed to kill themselves, while others were sold as slaves, forced to work as prostitutes or into marriage by their perpetrators. An eyewitness testified, "It was a very common thing for them to rape our girls in our presence. Very often they violated eight or ten year old girls, and as a consequence many would be unable to walk, and were shot."

The men were usually separated from the rest of “the deportees” during the first few days and executed, but, of course, not before being tortured and mutilated. Some were crucified, beheaded, others were often drowned by being tied together back-to-back before being thrown in the water. So many bodies floated down the Tigris and Euphrates that they sometimes blocked the rivers and needed to be cleared with explosives. Other rotting corpses became stuck to the riverbanks, and still others traveled as far as the Persian Gulf.

In 1918, the young turk regime took the war into the Caucasus, where approximately 1,800,000 Armenians lived under Russian dominion. Ottoman forces advancing through East Armenia and Azerbaijan here too engaged in systematic massacres. The expulsions and massacres carried by the nationalist turks between 1920 and 1922 added tens of thousands of more victims. By 1923 the entire landmass of Asia Minor and historic West Armenia had been expunged of its Armenian population. The destruction of the Armenian communities in this part of the world was total.

And yet, despite all of this—the unimaginable horrors that plagued the Armenian nation in the early 20th century—what do you think the world did in response? After this descent into hell, after the suffering, the bloodshed, the total annihilation—what followed? Silence. Deafening, shameful silence, as always.

Silence—until it was shattered 58 years later, when, at the age of 78, having exhausted every peaceful avenue to draw the world’s attention to the Armenian Question and faced with nothing but ignorance, Gourgen Yanikyan fired 13 bullets at the Turkish consul and vice-consul. This singular act of defiance wiped 58 years of dust from the forgotten pages of Armenian history, forcing the world to confront the cause once again.By sacrificing his freedom, Yanikyan ignited a movement. His act became the catalyst for a wave of Armenian activism, inspiring the creation of ASALA, who would go on to fight for the recognition of the genocide.

In 1975, a group of Lebanese-Armenians led by Iraqi-Armenian Hakob Hakobyan, all of whose parents and/or grandparents were survivors of the genocide, inspired by Yanikyan’s self-sacrifice, decided to found an underground organization, which through armed actions will again bring the Armenian Question into the international political and legal dimension, present the recognition of the Armenian Genocide carried out by the turks in 1914-1923 by the international community, and create prerequisites for the liberation of Western Armenia. The organization was called ASALA - Armenian Secret Army for the Liberation of Armenia.

The military operations of the ASALA were mainly aimed at turkish embassies, consulates, diplomats, government officials, military and police institutions, the turkish business environment, especially the offices of "turkish airlines corporation", as well as the state and public structures of other countries, which showed financial or military support to the turkish state.

Now, why am I telling you about this today? Well, today - on September 24th marks the 43rd anniversary of the Van Operation (24/09/1981), carried out by 4 Armenian ASALA soldiers - Vazgen Sislyan, Hakob Julfayan, Gevorg Gyuzelyan and Aram Basmajyan. On this day in 1981, four Armenian youths, aged 20-24, armed with pistols, automatic rifles and explosives, seized the turkish consulate in Paris, holding it under their control for 15 hours.

4 Soldiers of The Van Operation taking off their masks

The trial of “VAN” turned into a trial of the turkish government. The “VAN” operation and the political trial that followed it played a major role in bringing the Armenian issue to the international political arena, globalizing the territorial claim and the violated rights of the Armenian people, creating a new wave of condemnation of the reality of the Armenian genocide, strengthening the pride and spirit of struggle among Armenians.

When all the hope has slipped away, It’s the mad who find a way.

Though violence is condemned, it is the cruel truth that it is the only language to which the world listens.

More about the Van Operation in the second part.

[southeastasianists]

When Thailand's long-awaited equal marriage law came into effect on Thursday, police officer Pisit "Kew" Sirihirunchai hoped to be among the first in line to marry his long-term partner Chanatip "Jane" Sirihirunchai.

And he was - they were the sixth couple to register their union at one of Bangkok's grandest shopping malls, in an event city officials helped organise to celebrate this legal milestone.

Hundreds of couples across Thailand received marriage certificates on Thursday, breaking into smiles or tearing up over the moment they had dreamed of for so long.

It was a pageant of colours and costumes as district officials hosted parties with photo booths and free cup cakes - one Bangkok district was giving air tickets to the first couple who registered their marriage there.

"The rainbow flag is flying high over Thailand," Prime Minister Paetongtarn Shinawatra wrote on Facebook from Davos where she is attending the World Economic Forum.

Activists said they were hoping to cross the 1,448-mark for registrations by the end of Thursday - 1448 is the clause in the Thai Civil Code covering the definition of marriage.

"We have been ready for such a long time," Pisit said. "We have just been waiting for the law to catch up and support us."

The two men have been together for seven years. Eager to formalise their relationship, they had previously been to a Buddhist monk to give them an auspicious new last name they can share – Sirihirunchai. They had also asked local officials to issue a letter of intent, which they both signed, pledging to get married.

But they said having their partnership recognised under Thai law is what they had been waiting for: "This is perfect for us. The law that protects our rights."

Until now, official documents listed Pisit and Chanatip as brothers. That way they could be a family in the eyes of the law. A marriage certificate meansLGBTQ+ couples now have the same rights as any other couple to get engaged and married, to manage their assets, to inherit and to adopt children.

They can also make decisions about medical treatment if their partner becomes ill and incapacitated, or extend financial benefits – such as Pisit's government pension – to their spouse.

"We want to build a future together – build a house, start a small business together, maybe a café," he adds, making a list of all that the law has enabled. "We want to build our future together and to take care of each other."

The law, which passed in both houses of parliament in June last year before being endorsed by the Thai king in September, is a big step for LGBTQ+ rights.

Thailand remains an outlier in Asia in recognising marriage equality - only Nepal and Taiwan have legalised same-sex unions.

It's one reason why Aki Uryu, who is Japanese, moved to Bangkok to be with her partner. She said life is difficult for the LGBTQ+ community back home: "In Thailand, I can hold hands with my partner, walk together. No one says anything. It's just different. It feels right."

After the two women married on Thursday, Aki said: "It is like I have started my new life."

Watching them celebrate, along with so many other couples in a Bangkok mall, was Mr Zhang, a gay Chinese man who did not want to reveal his first name.

"We're excited, we're also very jealous," he said. "Thailand is so close to China, but in another sense it's so far away."

And yet, even in Thailand, with its famed tolerance towards LGBTQ+ people, activists say it took a sustained campaign to win legal recognition.

A long wait

"We've been waiting for this day for 18 years - the day everyone can recognise us openly, when we no longer need to be evasive or hide," 59-year-old Rungtiwa Thangkanopast, who will marry her partner of 18 years in May, told the BBC earlier this week.

She had been in a marriage, arranged by her family, to a gay man, who later died. She had a daughter, through IVF, but after her husband's death began spending time, and later helping run, one of the first lesbian pubs in Bangkok. Then she met Phanlavee, who's now 45 and goes by her first name only.

On Valentine's Day 2013 the two women went to the Bang Rak district office in central Bangkok to ask to be officially married - a popular place for marriage registration because the name in Thai means "Love Town".

This was the time when LGBTQ+ couples began challenging the official view of marriage as an exclusively heterosexual partnership by attempting to get marriage certificates at district offices.

There were around 400 heterosexual couples waiting with them on that day. Rungtiwa and Phanlavee were refused, and the Thai media mocked their effort, using derogatory slang for lesbians.

Still, activists managed to persuade the government to consider changing the marriage laws. A proposed civil partnership bill was put before parliament, offering some official recognition to same-sex couples, but not the same legal rights as heterosexual couples.

A military coup in 2014 which deposed the elected government interrupted the movement. It would be another decade before full marriage equality was approved by parliament, in part because of the rise of young, progressive political parties that championed the cause.

Their message resonated with Thais – and attitudes too had changed. By this time, same-sex marriage was legalised in many Western countries and same-sex love had become normalised in Thai culture too.

Such was the shift in favour of the law that it was passed last year by a thumping majority of 400 votes to just 10 against. Even in the notoriously conservative senate only four opposed the law.

And couples like Rungtiwa and Phanleeva now have their chance to have their love for each other recognised, without the risk of public derision.

"With this law comes the legitimacy of our family," Rungtiwa says, "We're no longer viewed as weirdos just because our daughter isn't being raised by heterosexual parents."

The new law takes out gender-specific terms like man, woman, husband and wife from 70 sections of the Thai Civil Code covering marriage, and replaces them with neutral terms like individual and spouse.

However, there are still dozens of laws in the Thai legal code which have not yet been made gender-neutral, and there are still obstacles in the way of same-sex couples using surrogacy to have a family.

Parents are still defined under Thai law as a mother and a father. The law also does not yet allow people to use their preferred gender on official documents; they are still stuck with their birth gender. These are areas where activists say they will still need to keep pushing for change.

And it is especially significant for older couples, who have had to ride out the shifts in attitude.

"I really hope people will put away the old, stereotypical ideas that gay men cannot have true love," said Chakkrit "Ink" Vadhanavira.

He and his partner Prinn, both in their 40s, have been together for 24 years.

"The two of us have proved that we genuinely love each other through thick and thin for more than 20 years," Chakkrit said. "We have been ready to take care of each other since our first day together. We are no different from heterosexual couples."

While Chakkrit's parents quickly accepted their partnership, it took Prinn's parents seven years before they could do so.

The couple also wanted to share the production business they ran together, and other assets, as a couple, so they asked Prinn's parents to adopt Chakkrit officially, giving him the same family name. Prinn says the new law has brought welcome legal clarity to them.

"For example, right now when a same sex couple buy something together – a large item - they cannot share ownership of it," said Prinn. "And one of us passes away, what both of us have earned together cannot be passed on to the other. That's why marriage equality is very significant."

Today, said Prinn, both sets of parents treat them as they would just like any other married children.

And when they had relationship problems like any other couple, their parents helped them.

"My dad even started reading gay magazines to understand me better. It was quite cute to see that."

Additional reporting by Lulu Luo, Paweena Ninbut and Ryn Jirenuwat in Bangkok

[velvetvexations]

Venting but like. I know it's influenced by which circles I follow and such (I'm on this site, for example) but it feels like people just seem to associate gender varience with lesbianism. Like I see so little content of people who center femme gay men, or masculine women who aren't lesbians, etc. People constantly make jokes about like "sees what looks like two gay men but is actually two butches which is ontologically better" but never never anything like what if these two femme looking individuals were gay men. That and like the lack of community and language for feminine men just makes it harder for me to feel like I fit in where the options seem like cis gay overall gender conforming men on one side, people attracted to women of diverse genders and presentations and experiences on the other. People talk about events where they've felt seen as their gender and found other people with queer gender experiences and it's like yeah it was at the Dyke bar or something and I love that for them but where do I go someone who's gender is femme but also man and attracted to men cause the gay male community feels so distant and very cis and conforming, I don't feel a sense of belonging there but the alternative feels desperate to tie me back into womanhood or attraction to women. Butches and dyke's are fantastic but I wish I could find more queer rep of gender exploration that isn't tied to lesbians, personally. And I know it's largely because of the history of these groups and all that and the ways that lesbianism is treated and policed (how there's always arguments against bi lesbians but not bi gay men, trans man lesbians but people just flat out ignore trans women gay men(see the language deficit) etc. There's no equivalent to the butch community for gay men as far as I know, not to the same extent. There's not even commonly used terminology similar to butch or lesbian that gets across that kind of meaning without explicitly tieing in a binary gender(people try with things like Achillean, but that doesn't have the same recognition and often gets mocked instead)(easier to say "the term lesbian includes nonbinary people" than it is to say "the term gay man includes nonbinary people") so I've had to say gay men community even if I'm not entirely a man because there's no words for me) but I feel like I don't even know where to look to find people like me a lot of the time.

This is all just a very personal rant and probably not entirely indicative of wider reality but it helps me to express it to someone else, so I greatly appreciate you having your ask box open to listen <3

It's not things I have a good handle on, but I've heard very similar from others. You're not alone, anon!

[tuntetesinfo]

Szervezett Pride-részvétel Németországból idelátogatóknak, utazás, jogsegély - küldjétek, akit érdekelhet

a jelentkezési lap német, idefordítom deepl-lel angolra, a magyar kicsit gagyi akart lenni

We are going to Budapest Pride 2025

For freedom and against Orbán's repression - travel with us to the 30th Budapest Pride!

While the EU looks the other way and von der Leyen instructs her commissioners NOT to go to Budapest Pride [this info has not been confirmed but expressly denied to my best knowledge], WE are showing real European solidarity!

The facts:

The Hungarian parliament has banned Pride marches

Participants face fines of up to €500

The police are allowed to use facial recognition against demonstrators

Von der Leyen secretly prevents EU solidarity out of fear of Orbán

Our response: On June 28, 2025, the 30th Budapest Pride will take place - a historic milestone for LGBTIQ* rights in Eastern Europe. Despite the ban, despite surveillance, despite penalties, tens of thousands are taking to the streets for freedom and dignity.

They deserve our support!

How will we help?

🚌 Joint travel by bus and carpooling from Germany (various departure points)

⚖️ Legal assistance through cooperation with Hungarian human rights NGOs

💰 Support with fines through our solidarity fund

📋 Safety briefing with all important information on site

🏨 Overnight accommodation organized in Budapest

🤝 Support from experienced activists

Why is your participation important?

As Viktória Radványi, Chairwoman of Budapest Pride, says: "The LMBTIQ+ community has existed since the beginning of humanity: we have been here longer and will stay longer than politicians in suits campaigning with exclusion."

Budapest's mayor Gergely Karácsony explains: "Budapest Pride cannot be banned. Because freedom and love cannot be banned. If a Pride can be banned in an EU member state, then no one in the EU is safe."

International presence is a strong signal: The more people come from all over Europe, the safer it will be for everyone and the stronger the signal against Orbán's repression.

Practical information

📅 Date: June 28, 2025 (with arrival on June 27)

📍 Meeting point Budapest: will be announced after registration

⚠️ Risk: fine 16-500€ (support from our fund)

Legal security

Legal experts from our Hungarian partner organizations (Hungarian Helsinki Committee, TASZ, Utcajogász) will inform you:

No prison sentence possible

No entry in the police clearance certificate

Low probability of identification with a large number of participants

EU citizens cannot usually be identified by facial recognition

This is how it works

Register via this WeAct event

Security briefing by email

If necessary, travel together on June 27

Pride participation on June 28

Your voice counts!

This action is part of our campaign "Act against Orbán's Pride ban". With your participation:

✊ Show concrete solidarity instead of just warm words

🇪🇺 Defend European values against autocracy

🏳️‍🌈 Support the Hungarian LGBTIQ* community directly

📢 Take a stand against von der Leyen's turning a blind eye

Register now and be there when we live European solidarity instead of just talking about it!

Starts on

Saturday, 28 Jun 2025 at 14:00 CEST

Ends on

Saturday, 28 Jun 2025 at 20:00 CEST

Location of the event to be announced

Heroes Square, Budapest

1 Hősök tere

Budapest, 1146

Hungary

This is an approximate location. As soon as the organizer has confirmed the location, participants will receive the address by email.

[cottoncandytrafficcones]

10 Cool Jewish Women from Modern Day! Part 1

Raquel Montoya-Lewis, an American attorney and jurist on the Washington Supreme Court. Born to a father descended from the Pueblo of Laguna, she is a member of the Pueblo of Isleta. Her mother, born in Australia, is Jewish. She was also a professor at Fairhaven College, and was a judge for indigenous courts including the Upper Skagit Indian Tribe and the Nooksack Indian Tribe. She is the second Native American person to sit on a state supreme court, and the first enrolled tribal member!

Dana International, an Israeli pop singer. Born in Tel Aviv to a family of Yemenite descent, she identified as female from a very young age, and was inspired by Ofra Haza to become a singer. Dana was chosen to represent Israel in Eurovision 1998 with the song "Diva," and won the contest with 172 points. She represented Israel again in 2011.

Liora Itzhak, an Israeli singer from the Bene Israel Indian community. She moved to India at the age of 16, returning to Israel eight years later. While in India, she sang with Kumar Sanu and Udit Narayan, and performed in the Bollywood film Dil Ka Doctor. Her music has gained recognition in both Israel and India. During the Indian Prime Minister's visit to Israel in 2017, she sang the national anthems of Israel and India.

Carol Man, a Hong Kong artist born into a traditional Chinese family. She converted to Judaism, and often combines Jewish and Chinese elements into her work, which includes a step-by-step guide to Chinese-Hebrew calligraphy. Featured in the Jewish Renaissance magazine and the Jewish Art magazine, she often gives workshops on her style of art.

Qian Julie Wang, a Chinese American writer and civil rights lawyer. Her father was a professor of English and critic of the government, which led to her family having to flee China. She graduated from Swarthmore College with a BA in English Lit, and earned her JD from Yale Law. She converted to Judaism, and founded a Jews of Color group at Manhattan Central Synagogue.

Sarah Avraham, an Indian born Israeli Muay Thai kickboxer. She was born in Mumbai to a formerly Hindu father and a Christian mother. Her family was close friends with Gavriel and Rivka Holtzberg, who were killed in the 2008 Mumbai terrorist attacks. A year after the attack, her family converted to Judaism and moved to Israel. She volunteers as a firefighter, and is considering studying medicine. In 2012, she won the Israeli national women's Thai boxing championship in her weight class; in 2014, she won the Women's World Thai-Boxing Championship in Bangkok in her weight class.

Leza Lowitz, an American writer born in San Francisco who has written, edited, and co-translated over twenty books. She is an internationally renown yoga and mindfulness teacher. She has often written on the topic of expatriate women. She is married to a writer and translator, and has one son. Her work is archived in the Chicago U library's special collection of poetry from Japan.

Ellie Goldstein, a British model born in Ilford, Essez. She has been modeling since she was fifteen, and has worked on campaigns for Nike, Vodafone, and Superdrug. She is the first model with a disability (Down syndrome) to represent Gucci and model their beauty products.

Ashager Araro, an Ethiopian-Israeli activist. Born while her parents were traveling during Operation Solomon. She studied government, diplomacy, and strategy at the IDC Herzliya. She is a feminist who has spoken out about racism and police brutality. In early 2020, she opened a cultural center in Tel Aviv dedicated to Ethiopian Israel culture called Battae.

Sarah Aroeste, an American singer, composer, and author of Northern Macedonian descent. Her music often referred to as "feminist Ladino rock." Born in Princeton, her family emigrated to America from Monastir/Bitola during the Balkan Wars. In the late 1990s, she noted the lack of a revival for Sephardic music despite the revival of klezmer, and started her own Ladino rock band in 2001. One of her albums is named after Gracia Mendes Nasi. In 2015, she represented the US in the International Sephardic Music Festival in Cordoba. She has written several books, including children's books, with Sephardic themes. (Fun fact, I met her at the Greek Jewish Festival in New York!)

[estera-shirin]

Some tips on how to survive a fascist state

From your auntie who has been around this block before.

This was made for people living in the US, but most of this is generally useful.

Assess your level of risk. For example, if you are not a citizen, going to a protest is much higher risk than it is for a citizen. But also recognize that the landscape of who is and is not being targeted is rapidly changing, so keep that in mind.

Get an updated passport. Make this a priority. If you live in a state where they have them, also get an Enhanced ID (not a Real ID, specifically an Enhanced ID) so you have a second way to cross land or sea borders into Canada and Mexico. That way, if authorities take your passport, you have another way out of the country.

Assume that the law is not there to protect you. Many parts of the law that are meant to protect you no longer apply. It's good to know your rights, but also know that the administration is not going to respect them. Just because you aren't doing anything illegal does not mean they won't come after you.

Move your communications, especially political communications, to encrypted messaging services. Use Signal for texts, ProtonMail for email, and Cryptpad as a word processor.

Get a private web browser. DuckDuckGo is a good option. I've also heard good things about Norton's private browser.

If you post political content on social media, you have two options. Make your account private and spend an evening going through your followers to weed out the ones you don't trust. Or, make it anonymous. But if you are picking the latter, know that it is hard to anonymize an account where you previously shared your identity. It's easier to go private if it's linked to your real life self, including through mutuals.

Turn off face ID on your devices. Police can force you to open them with your biometrics, even without a warrant. Additionally, make sure you have strong passwords (that are different for every account!) and keep track of them using a secure password manager.

If you go to protests or otherwise engage in subversive activity, DO NOT POST ABOUT IT ONLINE. Doing so endangers yourself and potentially others. Especially do not post pictures of protests, even if you've blurred the faces, even if you think you scrubbed the metadata. Even better, don't take photos at protests.

If you're exiting and re-entering the US, get a burner phone. I'm serious. Get an iPhone secondhand if you can afford it, but a flip phone will work if you need it to. Don't assume that just deleting anything sensitive off your device will be enough. You may not find it all, and depending on how thoroughly they search your phone, they may be able to see things that were deleted.

Mask up, especially when you're at a protest. In general, it's a good idea to mask since covid and many other viruses are going around. But masking has the added benefit of reducing the amount of biometric information you are making visible. Additionally, facial recognition software relies heavily on eyebrows, so cover them using a beanie or similar item.

Get involved or strengthen your ties with some kind of community. You are going to need others to lean on, whether that's emotionally or politically, in times like these.

[mswyrr]

"circle sewn with fate": more evidence that they are meant to be a "coven true"

-Agatha didn't think they'd be able to open the Road together because "only a true coven can open the door." And yet they did open the door together. They did something only a true coven can do.

-Agatha talks about the "Covenstead Rule" and it's kind of wild to me as a bit of symbolism. This whole time--all these long centuries--and wherever she is there have been people around her she could have connected with, made community with. It takes work and it's not easy, but it's there for her. As a metaphor about community it's pretty powerful? And, as Teen puts it, "beautiful."

Notable that she says it's "definitely not" beautiful in response. There's something here, about the spell/delusions she was trapped within and then her overall incapacity/unwillingness to see that's right in front of her face (adamant in 1x04 that the song says "coven TWO" when it's obviously "coven true"). You don't see it until you're ready to. There's people all around us at any given time we could connect with, but are we ready for that? Are they?

The next part is even more pointed, if we think of it as metaphorical about human relationships and community overall:

-And then the real kicker - Lilia's magical gift determined the group's members. And when she got the names she also got "Three of Pentacles," a really positive card that the show has released with a special design meant to represent the coven.

Here's the show merch Three of Pentacles design and the Smith-Waite classic design:

Its meaning is really positive for what this group can be to each other:

Apprenticeship, learning, studying, growing, hard work, commitment, building on success, collaboration, teamwork, determination, goals, dedication, quality, attention to detail, tradesperson, achievements, recognition, reward, hard work paying off, effort, motivation​ (source)

And the core takeaway in the card as something given by a reading (as Lilia says it to Agatha imo) is this:

"Each person has an important role to play, and when they come together as a team, they can create something much more significant than if they were to undertake the project on their own. So, when the Three of Pentacles turns up in a Tarot reading, take it as a sign to collaborate with others, creating synergies to achieve big results. The Three of Pentacles represents the value of different ideas and levels of experience in collaboration. The architects respect the specialised knowledge of the stonemason, and the stonemason appreciates the wisdom and experience of the architects. Even though their backgrounds, experience levels and expertise are very different, they can come together to share their insight in a way that creates synergy and improves the finished product. There is no ‘us and them’ or any sense of superiority. Instead, each person has something to offer and is willing to learn from the others involved in the project. Everyone is getting the job done collectively and contributes to the group through active listening and sharing. As you work on projects with others, acknowledge the value that each person brings to the table. You will also learn from each member of the team when you see his or her unique contribution." (source)

I truly think this season is the story of how Agatha gets a "coven true" again, even though it is the last thing she thinks she wants. There's so much symbolism and references to it! Even passing "joke" moments like the "Chief of police" starting to say "teamwork makes the dream work" and Agatha cutting in with "eat my ass." Of course, if she rejects what the magic (the Road's magic, Lilia's divination magic) is telling her, she could face the Three of Pentacles reversed:

Not learning from mistakes, unwillingness to learn, lack of growth, poor work ethic, lack of commitment, mistakes, lack of effort, lack of teamwork, apathy, no determination, no goals, no dedication, no motivation, poor quality work

It's her choice. And the choice of her coven too, if they want to walk the road (both literally the Witches' Road and metaphorically the road of life) with her despite what a huge pain in the ass she can be lol

[justinspoliticalcorner]

John Russell at LGBTQ Nation:

A San Francisco address that was once the site of a pre-Stonewall transgender uprising has been added to the National Register of Historic Places, the official list of historic sites, buildings, and objects in the United States. The National Park Service added the building at 101-102 Taylor St. in San Francisco’s Tenderloin neighborhood to its official list of historic U.S. places worthy of preservation on January 27, without any public statement or press release, The Bay Area Reporter first reported. The address was the location of Compton’s Cafeteria in the 1960s. One night in August 1966, a riot broke out at the 24-hour eatery between its trans and queer patrons and police officers after a drag queen threw a cup of coffee at a cop who was trying to arrest her. The café’s windows were shattered and a police car destroyed amid the protest against police harassment, according to The San Francisco Chronicle.

In 2017, San Francisco designated an area in the Tenderloin the nation’s first transgender historic district, renaming it the Compton’s TLGBT District in honor of the August 1966 uprising. The riot was cited last year when San Diego declared August as Transgender History Month. The site is likely the first landmark to be registered specifically for its connection to the history of the transgender community, trans scholar and historian Susan Stryker, whose 2005 documentary Screaming Queen details the riot, told The Bay Area Reporter.

[...] Historian and historic preservation planner Shayne Watson said that the news was “something to celebrate” amid the Trump administration’s ongoing attacks on transgender rights. In just his first two weeks in office, President Donald Trump has signed a flurry of executive orders intended to further marginalize transgender Americans. Earlier this week, the National Parks Service removed the letters T and Q from the “LGBTQ+” initials on its website for New York City’s Stonewall National Monument, effectively erasing trans, queer, and gender-nonconforming people’s leading role in the 1969 uprising that is widely recognized as the beginning of the modern LGBTQ+ rights movement. The move appears to be an effort to comply with Trump’s executive orders prohibiting any federal recognition of trans people in any aspect of civic life.

101-102 Taylor St. in Francisco, which once housed Compton’s Cafeteria and was the site of a 1966 riot for trans rights, will be placed onto the National Register of Historic Places list. This is despite Donald Trump’s brazen war on trans people during his time on office, especially his current one.

[arceus-insanity]

If the mutant plot line is about racism, would it be fair to say that ending was unintentionally racist/used racist elements? I’m not saying Hori is racist or anything, but the story ending basically telling the mutants that they would get somewhere if only they work together “peacefully” with Shoji getting an award for that? It feels, to me, that it’s emphasizing being the “good” minority and then good things will happen.

A lot of racism and other forms of discrimination aren’t from active effort, but lack of effort and consideration

Now focusing on how much bullshit this argument is, Martin Luther King Jr. the pinnacle of peaceful protest for civil rights, was assassinated for it! He had multiple direct attempts on his life, and numerous death threats! The government hated him the whole time he was alive. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Assassination_of_Martin_Luther_King_Jr.#:~:text=As%20early%20as%20the%20mid,recognition%20part%20of%20his%20philosophy. 

The Black Panthers also played a massive role in getting equal rights. And protecting their communities from unjust violence. https://nmaahc.si.edu/explore/stories/black-panther-party-challenging-police-and-promoting-social-change 

And a big part of both platforms was not being convenient for their oppressors. Being convenient makes it so the oppressors have no reason to change anything because they benefit from it

[ellswritings]

No Place Like Home

Derek Morgan x reader

TW: Mentions of sexual assault on reader, murder, blood, violence, regular criminal minds stuff, angst with a happy ending, this gets very dark at some points so please read at your own discretion, I think that’s it. Lmk if I missed anything.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Baraboo Wisconsin.

Y/N L/N’s hometown. The one she left the second she turned sixteen and never looked back. Baraboo is a quaint little place, beautiful views and fun places to go if someone knows where to look. It’s a tight-knit community that’s for sure. Where everyone knows everyone and whatever secrets someone has also belong to the rest of the town. It can be endearing at times but also make an individual feel claustrophobic.

She never planned on coming back here. She graduated college at fourteen and worked her ass off to save enough money to leave by the time her sixteenth birthday rolled around. In fact, that was her birthday present to herself. To get the hell out of there.

Y/N’s father died when she was six years old. He was a hero, a firefighter. He died saving a family of six from a burning house. He was the only one who didn’t make it out alive that day. He managed to get every person out with minimal injuries. Just couldn’t seem to save himself.

After he died, Y/N’s mother, Lisa L/N, was a mess. Completely ignored her daughter after her husband’s, started drinking. Y/N practically raised herself. Until her step father came into the picture. Adrian Cole. The name itself gives her sickly chills just thinking about it.

Y/N continued her studies after getting her first bachelors degree at fourteen. She ended up with a doctorate and three masters under her belt by the time she turned eighteen. The girl is what most specialists would consider a “high potential intellectual.” She has advanced cognitive abilities that contain superior pattern recognition, enhanced situational awareness, an eidetic memory, advanced deception detection, superior deductive reasoning, mental simulation/scenario building, and advanced problem solving.

She’s rather valuable to say the least.

Y/N has had the world at her fingertips since she was born. She’s smart, cunning, calculated. She knows exactly how to get what she wants. Unfortunately, she doesn’t screw up from time to time.

Hence why she got arrested for petty theft when she was eighteen.

She had been working odd jobs for her entire life. Bouncing around from city to city, trying to find a place she could make her home. She somehow ended up in Quantico Virginia, a random bus stop on a long list of places she could go. But it had been a couple months since being there, and one week she didn’t make enough to get herself some basic grocery supplies, so she thought it wouldn’t be the most terrible thing to snag a loaf of bread on the way out of one of the many grocery stores in the city. She didn’t think they’d truly care about one loaf.

Clearly, she was wrong. They apparently needed that bread way more than she did.

And that’s how she ended up the in police station. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience at first. Most of the officers just thought she was some punk kid who got a kick out of stealing. She didn’t even bother trying to explain why she did what she did because they wouldn’t believe her in the first place. And it’s not like they could put her in the system, she was eighteen.

However, as they were processing her, she noticed some of the detectives talking about a murder investigation. They had a man who was found dead in his living room, and the prime suspect was the wife who mysteriously disappeared after it happened.

The thing about having advanced cognitive abilities, is that it’s easy to get stuck inside the many wrinkles of the brain. She also has a compulsive need to correct everything she sees is wrong, and that is why she interrupted their conversation by yelling across the station that the wife is actually a second victim, not the perpetrator.

Of course, most of the detectives thought she was full of crap and didn’t have any idea what she was talking about. The commander however, seemed to have a different opinion. She asked Y/N what made her think that the wife could be a victim in the case.

That led to her explaining that the photos in the crime scene board indicate that there was a third part, and that’s who killed the husband and kidnapped the wife. She pointed out how there were microfibers on the legs of the chair in the photo and that shows how someone had been tied to it with duct tape. And it clearly couldn’t have been the husband with the way there was no ligature marks or redness on his skin.

Needless to say, they found the wife and the person who killed the husband. Turns out it was his best friend who was having an affair with their son’s school teacher. The husband knew to much and threatened to tell his best friend’s wife which led to his demise. Who would’ve thought?

After that case, the commander offered her a position as a consultant on their cases. It gave Y/N the first feeling of stability she’s had in a very long time. She was even able to save enough to buy herself an apartment in the area, and put herself through the FBI academy. Her coworkers at the station were sad when they found out she had been recruited to one of the most elite units in the agency, but they knew her potential was to great to be stuck at the precinct for the rest of her life.

That’s why she’s currently back in Baraboo, the ripe age of twenty-five, with the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit team. The leader, Aaron Hotchner, and the rest of the group: David Rossi, Jennifer Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Doctor Spencer Reid, and the one and only… Derek Morgan.

From the moment Y/N met Derek, they clicked. They both have very similar traits but differ in the most important ways. They somehow manage to understand each other on a level that the rest of the team can’t comprehend. The two of them share flirty and playful banter constantly. Everyone in the office thought Penelope and Derek were bad, at least until Y/N sauntered in. She distinctly remember Spencer having to leave the room, his face flushed red after hearing a conversation between Derek and Y/N.

The two always brushed it off as a joke, or something they do to cope with the darkness of the job, but there’s always been a little something more lying underneath it. Neither of them have been able to acknowledge it out loud, but it’s not hard to see.

“How does it feel to be home, Princess?” Derek asks with his signature golden smile, full intention of getting a flirty reaction from her. He cracks his back as the rest of the team gets off the jet, getting ready to split up and head to the station or to the most recent crime scene.

Y/N keeps her eyes trained in the distance, her face cold, hard almost. “This hasn’t been my home for the past nineteen years,” she replies stoically before walking off to join Hotch and Rossi by one of the SUV’s.

Derek is taken aback by her demeanor. She’s never been one to turn down an opportunity to flirt or be witty, especially with him. Y/N has always been a bit closed off, but in the same way Derek is. She doesn’t tell anyone about her past, and she’s never asked him about his. It’s one of the many things he loves about her. She didn’t push when she knew not to. In fact, the most they knew about where the other came from was home towns. Now he did share some about his family because they’re important to him, and so is Y/N, but he never delved too deep. That is until about last year when he was arrested for murdering three boys back home.

Y/N was the only one who tried to help without digging to deep into the things Derek didn’t want found. It killed her a little bit to see how Derek broke down when confronting the real perpetrator, Carl Buford, who also molested Derek as a child. That particularly made it a rough case for her, for more than one reason.

“Reid, JJ,” Hotch calls out to the two. “I want you guys to head to the station with Rossi, see if you can nail down a geographical profile.” The trio nods before heading over to their own SUV. “Prentiss, you come with me to talk to the most recent victims family. Morgan, L/N, head to the crime scene. Sheriff Mills will meet you both there to discuss the rest of the details.”

Y/N nods silently before turning back to Derek. She gestures towards the third black car waiting for them, walking past him and over towards the driver’s seat. Derek grabs her wrist gently as she tries to open the door, “Babygirl, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Following orders,” Y/N answers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Uh-uh,” Derek shakes his head. “Get your cute little ass in that passenger seat right now.” He demands.

“Derek, we don’t have time to argue over who’s gonna drive the damn car,” Y/N snaps, completely out of character. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

His eyebrows shoot up into his nonexistent hairline, “Whoa,” he puts his hands up. “I didn’t mean to upset you, sweetheart. I just like driving you around, that’s all. I thought it was like a little silent agreement we had. You being my passenger princess.”

Y/N’s face softens, but he can still see the anger behind her eyes. There’s definitely something wrong. She’s never been like this without a reason. A small sigh escapes her pink lips, “Okay…” she mumbles, very cutely in Derek’s opinion. “You can drive.”

Without another peep, Y/N climbs into her designated spot besides Derek. He casts her an unsure glance, wondering if maybe she’ll open up to him on the way to the scene, but unfortunately the entire ride was quiet. Apart from the playlist playing in the background. They both had created it for when they were partnered together on a case.

They pull up to the scene, no words uttered between them. Y/N stares out the window, sucking in a deep breath. Her knuckles are a pale white as she clutches onto the door handle. He wants to ask her what’s going through her mind, but knows better than to push when she’s like this.

She steps out of the vehicle, the gravel crunching beneath her feet, Derek following closely behind. As soon as they near the crime scene, she spots Sheriff Mills standing by the perimeter tape, arms crossed but eyes bright when he recognizes her.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Y/N L/N!” Mills calls out with a smile, his voice booming across the lot. “You’re a sight for sore eyes. How long’s it been?”

Y/N offers a small, genuine smile, feeling a rare sense of warmth. “Hey, Sheriff. It’s been a while. Nine years, I think.”

“Nine years,” he repeats with a shake of his head. “You disappeared on us, huh? Look at you now.” He glances over at Derek, curiosity sparking in his eyes.

Y/N glances between the two men. “This is Derek Morgan, one of the best profilers at the BAU.”

Derek steps forward and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” Mills replies, shaking Derek’s hand firmly before turning back to Y/N. “You always had it in you to do something big.”

Derek watches the brief exchange with interest, noting how Y/N seems more at ease around the sheriff. There was history here, but also a quiet sense of trust. The sheriff gave Y/N a comforting nod before stepping back to let them work.

They cross under the yellow tape and into the scene, where the victim’s body lay partially covered. Derek’s voice is low but steady. “What are we looking at?”

Y/N knelt beside the body, her jaw tightening as she takes in the brutal injuries. “Ligature marks on the wrists and ankles…looks like she was tied up, maybe tortured before…” She let her words trail off, her eyes lingering on the deep gash across the victim’s neck. “The unsub wanted control, dominance. But there’s rage here too.”

Derek nods, crouching down next to her. “The way he escalates...it’s personal. There’s something he’s trying to prove with each kill. Could be revenge or a power trip.”

Y/N swallows hard, her breath hitching for a moment as she takes in the scene. She stands, brushing her hands on her pants as if trying to rid herself of the heaviness in the air.

Derek stands too, noticing the slight shift in her demeanor. He narrows his eyes, stepping closer to her. “You alright?”

Y/N hesitates, casting a glance back at the body. The familiarity of it all—the victim, her face—was a knife in her chest, twisting cruelly.

“I knew her,” Y/N finally admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “Her name’s Claire. We…we went to high school together.”

Derek’s brows furrow, concern flashing across his face. “You didn’t mention that at the briefing.”

She shrugs her shoulders, jaw clenching. “I didn’t think it would be relevant. I haven’t spoken to her in years.” Y/N turns away, looking out into the distance as if trying to find something to balance herself, her mind.

Derek’s hand gently rests on her shoulder, his touch grounding her in a way she wasn’t expecting. “If this is too much, you don’t have to–”

“I’m fine,” she snaps, though the sharpness in her tone is more for herself than him. She looks at Derek, the vulnerability showing through her usual hard exterior. “I just didn’t expect this.”

Derek softens. “You don’t have to be fine, Y/N. Not here, not with me.”

For a moment, their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. But Y/N quickly broke away, determined to stay focused. “Let’s just…get back to work. We have to find this guy.”

They both turned back to the crime scene, their focus shifting back to the task at hand. But the air between them was heavier now, weighed down by the past that had resurfaced with a vengeance.

“Whoever did this,” Derek says quietly, “they knew how to get close. Claire trusted them.”

Y/N nods, her jaw clenched tightly. “He’s not a stranger to any of these women. He’s someone who knows how to blend in. And he’s getting more comfortable.”

Derek meets her eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. They have to catch this unsub before anyone else suffers the same fate. But now, more than ever, Y/N had a personal stake in it. And Derek was going to make sure that, whatever happened, he’d be there for her.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

The police station is humming with quiet intensity, the kind of buzz that always fills the air when the team is piecing together fragments of a case. They’ve been working nonstop, and the weight of the victims is hanging over all of them. Every detail matters now, every tiny revelation could lead them closer to the truth.

Hotch stands at the head of the room, looking over the maps, notes, and pictures strewn across the table. JJ, Reid, and Rossi are gathered around, quietly talking through the geographical profile they’ve been working on. Emily leans against the wall, flipping through her notes from the victimology interviews. Derek and Y/N, just back from the most recent crime scene, stand a bit apart, their body language tense but focused.

Hotch looks up from the map, his expression sharp and business-like. “What did you find at the crime scene?”

Derek steps forward, his eyes catching Y/N’s briefly before he speaks. “The victim was restrained before she was killed. Ligature marks on her wrists and ankles. She was tortured—cut up pretty bad across her torso. He took his time with her. Cause of death was strangulation, but the wounds came first.”

Reid frowns, looking over at the crime scene photos pinned to the board. “That suggests control. He didn’t just want to kill her, he wanted to inflict pain, assert dominance.”

Rossi nods in agreement, his tone grim. “He’s trying to break them down before killing them. Likely projecting some internal conflict, something personal.”

Y/N stands a little off to the side, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She hasn’t said much since they got back, but Derek knows that look. She’s running the details over and over in her mind, trying to process everything.

Derek glances at her again before continuing. “He’s gotta be in his late 40s or 50s. Strong enough to overpower, but methodical enough to take his time with them.”

Emily pushes off the wall and approaches the table. “We’ve seen it before. Someone with deep insecurities who compensates by dominating their victims. There’s probably a sexual element involved, even if it’s not immediately obvious.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment, taking in all the information. Then he asks, “Was there anything else? Anything personal about her?”

There’s a pause. Derek hesitates, his eyes flicking over to Y/N again. He’s been waiting for her to say something, but she’s been holding back. She looks tense, almost like she’s somewhere else entirely.

Y/N clears her throat, feeling the weight of Hotch’s attention on her. “The victim... her name was Claire.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Y/N shifts slightly, her voice a little quieter. “I knew her. We went to the same high school.”

That draws everyone’s attention. Reid, JJ, and Emily all look at her with surprise. Rossi’s eyes narrow in thought. Hotch’s expression shifts from curious to stern in an instant.

“You knew her?” His tone is sharp, almost accusatory.

Y/N nods, though it’s clear she’s uncomfortable. “Yeah, but... we weren’t close. I hadn’t seen her since high school. I didn’t even realize it was her until we were at the scene.”

Hotch’s jaw tightens, clearly frustrated. “And you didn’t think that was something we should’ve known?”

Before Y/N can respond, Derek steps in, his voice firm and protective. “She didn’t know until we got there, Hotch. This isn’t something she was hiding. It just hit her at the scene.”

Hotch’s gaze shifts to Derek, his expression still hard, but he doesn’t argue. There’s a beat of silence, the tension palpable in the room. Y/N looks down at the floor, her jaw clenched, clearly battling with the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

Reid, ever the analyst, chimes in. “If Y/N knew the victim, that could mean the unsub has a connection to her past as well. It’s possible he’s targeting women from the same community.”

JJ nods thoughtfully. “If the victims are all from the same area, it might explain how he’s able to blend in so easily. He knows them, at least in passing.”

Y/N swallows hard, feeling the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her. She’s never liked being the focus of attention, especially not when it comes to something this personal. She hates how it feels like she’s under a microscope right now.

Derek steps a little closer to her, his hand brushing her arm lightly, a silent reassurance. His voice softens, just for her. “You okay, babygirl?”

She forces a tight smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m fine.”

Rossi taps the edge of the map in front of him. “If this unsub is blending in with his victims, he’s not the type to stand out. He’s attending social gatherings, getting close to them before striking. He’s comfortable in these environments.”

“That’s how he’s avoiding detection,” Emily adds. “He’s slipping under the radar, appearing harmless.”

Sheriff Mills, who’s been standing quietly in the back of the room, finally speaks up. “You think he’s been attending community events?”

Rossi nods. “It’s likely. He’s integrating himself into their lives without raising suspicion.”

The sheriff frowns, thinking for a moment. “Well, Diane Cole—one of the most prominent women in town—she hosts a weekly Sunday luncheon. Half the community shows up after church.”

Y/N’s entire body goes rigid at the mention of the name. Her breath catches in her throat, her heart pounding suddenly in her chest. The rest of the team doesn’t miss the way her expression changes, the way she seems to freeze in place.

Hotch notices it immediately, his sharp eyes narrowing. “Y/N? Why does that name mean something to you?”

Y/N tries to keep her composure, but it’s slipping. She feels exposed, vulnerable, like the walls she’s spent years building are crumbling around her. Her voice comes out strained, barely above a whisper. “Because Diane Cole is my mother.”

The room falls silent. No one says anything for a moment as they process what she just said. The different last names had kept them from connecting the dots until now, but the revelation is staggering.

Rossi’s eyes soften with understanding, but Hotch’s expression grows darker. He takes a slow breath, his frustration evident. “You didn’t think to tell us that your mother hosts one of the biggest events in town? One that our unsub no doubt plucks his victims from?”

Y/N shakes her head, her voice cracking slightly. “She and I... we haven’t spoken in years. I left home when I was sixteen, Hotch. It’s not like I’m going out of my way to connect with my mother. She’s not—” She stops herself, not wanting to open that door. “She’s not apart of my life. We’re not close.”

Hotch is clearly irritated, but before he can say anything else, Derek puts his hand on Y/N’s back, his voice low and calm, but with a protective edge. “Look, Hotch, this isn’t easy for her. She’s not keeping things from us on purpose. Let’s just focus on what we know and move forward.”

Hotch stares at Derek for a long moment, clearly weighing his words. Finally, he nods, letting the issue drop for now. “Alright. The luncheon is our best lead. Y/N, Derek, Emily—you three will come with me and we’ll see if anyone stands out. We need to be cautious. We don’t know what this guy looks like yet, but he’s dangerous.”

Y/N swallows hard, nodding along with the rest of the team. She feels Derek’s steady presence beside her, his hand on her arm again, grounding her. She meets his eyes for a brief moment, grateful for his unwavering support.

“We got this,” Derek murmurs, just for her. His voice is soft but full of confidence.

Y/N takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “Yeah. We do.”

As the team breaks off to prepare for the next steps, Y/N lingers for a moment, the weight of what’s to come settling heavily on her shoulders. She’s about to walk back into a part of her life she thought she’d left behind for good, and the thought terrifies her. But with Derek by her side, she knows she can face it. She has to.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

The drive to Y/N’s childhood home is filled with a heavy silence. Derek occasionally glances over at her, but she stares straight ahead, her face unreadable. He knows she’s shutting down, retreating into herself as the memories she’s been trying to bury claw their way to the surface. The tension in her body has been there ever since they received word that the unsub might be attending her mother’s Sunday luncheon, and it hasn’t left her since.

As the car pulls up to the house, Y/N’s stomach knots. The familiar two-story building looms in front of them, looking almost exactly the same as it did the day she left nine years ago. The white picket fence, the flower beds her mother used to tend to religiously—everything looks frozen in time, untouched by the years she’s been gone.

Derek cuts the engine and turns to her. “You sure about this, princess?”

Y/N swallows hard, forcing a small nod. “Yeah.”

She isn’t sure. Not even close. But she’s here for the case, and that’s what matters. She can’t afford to let her emotions get in the way of the investigation, no matter how much being here is already tearing her apart.

They step out of the car, and Derek moves beside her, a steady presence as they walk up the path. Hotch and Prentiss are already ahead, scanning the area as they approach the front door. Y/N’s eyes flick around, taking in the familiar sights—the swing set that used to creak with the wind, the porch steps she used to sit on every evening, staring at the stars. All of it feels distant, like a life that belongs to someone else.

As soon as they step onto the porch, the front door swings open. Diane Cole, Y/N’s mother, stands in the doorway, her face lighting up in a wide smile. “Y/N!” she exclaims, her voice filled with warmth and hospitality as if no time has passed at all. “Oh, my goodness, it’s been so long!”

Y/N’s body tenses as her mother wraps her in a tight embrace. The scent of her perfume—familiar, suffocating—fills Y/N’s nostrils. She stands stiffly, arms at her sides, not reciprocating the hug. She can feel Derek’s eyes on her, the weight of his concern palpable, but she doesn’t move.

Diane pulls back, her hands still on Y/N’s shoulders, beaming at her. “Look at you! You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman.”

Y/N forces a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hi, Mom.”

Diane doesn’t seem to notice her daughter’s coldness or, if she does, she ignores it. “Come in, come in!” she says, ushering them inside with a wave of her hand. “Everyone’s already here. We were just about to start lunch.”

Y/N steps inside the house, the familiar creak of the floorboards under her feet making her stomach turn. The smell of roast chicken wafts through the air, mingling with the sound of chatter coming from the dining room. It’s all so painfully familiar, like stepping back into the life she left behind.

Hotch and Prentiss follow them in, their eyes scanning the room, already analyzing the guests milling about. Derek stays close to Y/N’s side, his presence grounding her, but even that isn’t enough to quell the anxiety bubbling up inside her.

As they move into the living room, Diane can’t seem to stop talking. “It’s so wonderful to have everyone here. We do this every Sunday, you know. Just a little gathering after church. Keeps the community close.”

Y/N nods absently, her eyes flicking around the room. She’s searching for something—someone��though she’s not entirely sure who she’s looking for. The unsub is here. That much they know. But standing in this house, surrounded by people she hasn’t seen in years, feels like walking through a minefield.

Diane turns to Derek, her smile still plastered on her face. “And who’s this?”

Diane’s smile widens. “Oh, it’s so nice to meet you, Derek. Please, make yourself at home. We’ve got plenty of food, and if you need anything, just let me know.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Derek replies politely, though his attention is already back on Y/N. He can see how tense she is, the way her eyes are darting around the room, scanning faces, assessing the crowd. She’s in work mode, but there’s something deeper, something more personal eating away at her.

As they move further into the house, Diane continues to chatter, offering drinks, asking about their work, pretending as though she hasn’t been estranged from her daughter for nearly a decade. Y/N barely listens, her mind racing as she takes in every detail, every face.

As they began to split up, Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her. She’d always preferred to keep her distance from the noise and chaos of family gatherings, and today was no different. “I’ll check the backyard,” she suggested, hoping to create some space between herself and the tension inside.

“Be careful,” Derek said quietly, watching her with concern as she slipped outside.

Once she stepped into the backyard, the sun was almost too bright, illuminating the vibrant flowers in the garden but doing nothing to warm the coldness settling in her bones. She leaned against the wooden railing of the porch, breathing deeply, attempting to ground herself.

For a moment, it was quiet. The chirping of birds and the rustle of leaves filled the air, allowing Y/N to momentarily escape the chaos inside. But just as she started to relax, the back door creaked open. She turned to see Adrian, her stepfather, stepping onto the porch. The brightness of the day dulled as he approached, his confident demeanor wrapping around her like a shroud.

“Y/N,” Adrian said, his voice dripping with feigned warmth. “It’s been a long time.”

Y/N stiffened, her pulse quickening. “What are you doing here?” she asked, trying to keep her tone steady despite the rising tide of panic.

“I came to check in on you,” he takes a silly step closer to her. “You’ve grown up so much,” he said, his eyes scanning her with a mixture of familiarity and something more invasive. “You know, your mother is worried about you. You should visit more often.”

Y/N felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. “I’m fine. I don’t need checking on,” she replied firmly, trying to keep her tone from betraying her nerves. “And I have a busy job. I don’t have time for trivial visits.”

“Really? You’re fine? Because you look like you’re about to bolt. I thought we were past this.” Adrian’s voice turned sharper, an edge of annoyance creeping in as he crossed his arms over his chest.

At that moment, Derek stepped out onto the porch, instantly sensing the tension in the air. He glanced between Y/N and Adrian, picking up on the shift in Y/N's posture—the way her shoulders were tense and how she seemed to shrink back.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Derek asked, concern lacing his voice.

Adrian turned his gaze to Derek, sizing him up as if trying to gauge his intentions. “And who might you be?” he asked, feigning curiosity but with a hint of challenge.

“I’m SSA Derek Morgan with the BAU,” Derek replied, his tone neutral but his stance protective. “We’re here to investigate.”

“Investigate?” Adrian scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “What do you need to investigate in a place like this? It’s just a house.”

“Everything in here could be important,” Derek replied evenly, maintaining eye contact. He felt the tension simmering in the air, aware that any hint of aggression could escalate quickly.

Adrian took a step closer to Y/N, invading her space. “Well, Y/N and I have a lot to discuss, don’t we? Family matters are important. So I think it would be best for you to continue your investigation inside.” There was an underlying threat in his tone, one that made Derek’s instincts flare.

Derek shifted forward, placing himself between Adrian and Y/N, his presence a solid wall. “She doesn’t seem to want to talk,” he said firmly, glancing back at Y/N, searching for reassurance in her eyes. “I think you should give her some space.”

Adrian’s demeanor shifted slightly, his confidence cracking as he tried to reassert himself. “Space? I’m her stepfather. I have every right to speak to her.”

“That doesn’t mean you have the right to make her uncomfortable,” Derek replied, his voice steady but edged with authority. He wasn’t here to play games—he needed to protect Y/N, especially if something felt off.

Adrian’s smile faded as he took another step forward, his eyes darkening. “You’re just some guy, aren’t you? An FBI agent trying to play hero. What do you know about family?”

Derek squared his shoulders, refusing to back down. “I know that family should support one another, not intimidate. And from what I can see, you’re not doing that.”

Y/N felt the tension spike, her heart racing as she sensed Adrian’s irritation boiling beneath the surface. Derek was standing his ground, but she could see the way Adrian’s demeanor shifted—his posture becoming more aggressive.

Adrian’s gaze flicked between Derek and Y/N, and she felt the weight of his scrutiny. “You don’t know her like I do. I’m trying to help her,” he said, his voice lowering as he leaned closer to Derek, trying to assert dominance.

“Help her?” Derek echoed incredulously, his tone clipped. “By pressuring her? You’re not helping anyone but yourself.”

“Watch yourself,” Adrian warned, his voice turning low and menacing. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with here.”

Derek’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer to Adrian, matching his intensity. “And you don’t know who you’re threatening. Back off.”

Just then, Y/N felt the walls closing in around her. Adrian’s words were wrapping around her like a vice, squeezing her heart and pushing her instincts into overdrive. She could feel herself being pulled in two different directions—Derek’s protective stance grounding her but also reminding her of the past she was trying to escape.

“Y/N,” Adrian said, his tone shifting again as he turned back to her, that familiar manipulation creeping into his voice. “You don’t have to listen to him. I’m just looking out for you.”

She shook her head, the memories crashing over her like a wave. “I don’t need you to look out for me,” she said, her voice firm but low, trying to keep it steady as her hands trembled at her sides. “I’m done with that.”

Derek shot her a glance, noticing the shift in her demeanor. “Y/N, you okay?” he asked, concern thick in his voice.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, but the strain in her tone betrayed her.

Adrian smirked, the kind of smile that sent a chill down Y/N's spine. “Look how protective you are of her,” he said to Derek, his voice dripping with mockery. “Isn’t that sweet?”

“Enough,” Derek said sharply, stepping further in front of Y/N, his body a shield. “You’re crossing a line.”

Adrian’s demeanor darkened, his posture becoming more aggressive as he looked back at Derek, trying to assert his dominance. “You think you can just waltz in here and play protector?”

“Believe me man, I’m not playing,” Derek replied, his voice low and steady.

That was when Y/N felt the weight of everything pressing down on her. She couldn’t stand it. Adrian’s presence, the memories flooding back, and the way Derek was standing up for her—it was all too much. Without another word, she turned and walked briskly toward the front door, needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

“Y/N!” Derek called after her, but she was already moving, her heart pounding in her ears.

She rushed through the living room, her mind racing. She felt a wave of anxiety surge as she stepped outside, the sunlight hitting her face, but it felt distant, almost cold.

“Y/N! What happened?” Prentiss shouted, following her outside. The concern in her voice echoed in Y/N’s mind.

“I just... need a minute,” Y/N replied quietly, trying to control the tremble in her voice.

Hotch stepped outside, his brow furrowed as he assessed the situation. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone serious.

“Nothing,” Y/N breathes heavily, her chest heaving from anxiety and anger. “Nothing, I-I I’m fine.” She didn’t want to relive it; she didn’t want to talk about Adrian or the past. “I don’t want to discuss this.” She shakes her head rapidly.

“Why are you upset?” Prentiss pressed gently, her eyes filled with concern.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Y/N finally snaps, her voice slightly rising as she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She turned away from them, needing to find a way to breathe, to think without the weight of their gazes on her.

“Y/N, please,” Derek said softly, stepping closer but remaining respectful of her space. “Talk to us. We’re here to help.”

She shook her head, feeling the panic rising within her. “I can’t do this right now,” she said, her voice breaking. “I just– I cant. I’ll jeopardize the case if I go back in there. And I can’t do that to those women. I can’t mess this up.”

With that, she turned and strode toward the SUV parked at the curb, the need to retreat overwhelming her. She climbed into the back seat, shutting the door firmly behind her, pressing her forehead against the cool glass, desperately trying to find calm in the chaos that had erupted.

“Y/N!” Derek called again, but she didn’t respond, her heart racing as she stared out the window, willing the memories to stay buried and the present to fade away.

The team gathered outside, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern as they exchanged worried glances. “What do we do?” Prentiss asked, glancing from Hotch to Derek.

“We give her space,” Hotch replied, his voice steady. “She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

Derek clenched his fists, frustration coursing through him. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he knew that pushing would only make things worse. “I hate this,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on the closed door of the SUV.

As the minutes ticked by, Y/N closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe, to find calm in the chaos swirling around her. She couldn’t let Adrian’s presence ruin everything she had worked for, everything she had fought to build. But deep down, she knew the shadows of her past wouldn’t let her go so easily.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Walking back into the police station, Y/N managed to get the entire teams attention without even speaking. The unfortunate part about working with such observant people is that even if she breathes a little too heavy, they can tell exactly what she’s thinking. And let’s just say her breathing is way different than what they would consider her “normal.”

Spencer, JJ, and Rossi all watch with concerned eyes as Y/N practically storms into the designated room they have for the case, slamming the door behind her. The glass windows shake from the force and she places her hands on the table before zeroing in on the case board in front of her.

Hotch, Emily, and Derek walk in, their own cautious gaze setting everyone on edge. Rossi looks at the trio, pointing back at the fuming agent in the other room. “What happened there?”

Hotch states after his younger agent, tilting his head as he tries to gauge whether she’s more upset or angry from beyond the window. “Something set her off at the house,” he answers.

“Not something, someone,” Emily corrects with a worried sighs. “As soon as her stepfather showed up, it was like her entire world stopped. And not in a good way.”

“Stepfather?” JJ furrows her eyebrows.

“Adrian Cole,” Reid answers for them, causing everyone to look at him confused.

“And how did you know that?” Hotch questions flatly.

“When she mentioned Diane was her mother, I did some digging and asked some of the other officers about her,” Reid admits with a harsh swallow as he notices Morgan glaring in his direction. No doubt for probing into Y/N’s life. “Diane got married to Adrian when Y/N was eight years old. Three years after her father died. He’s currently fifty-two, eight years older than Diane. I guess everyone was pretty surprised to find out they were seeing each other,” Reid reveals. “Sheriff Mills told me that it was the talk of the town when it originally happened. Adrian was kind of a recluse, not approached by many, kind of a ‘creep’ as described by the deputies,” he gestures over in the other direction. “So it was surprising to find out that Diane ended up with him, especially since she married her high school sweetheart, Y/N’s father, Daniel L/N.”

“So she kept her father’s last name,” Rossi points out, glancing back over to Y/N. “Shows how much she truly wanted to distance herself from her mother. Not taking her new husband’s last name.”

“Or maybe she was just closer with her dad,” JJ suggests.

“Or maybe her stepfather never got over his ‘creep’ reputation,” Emily scoffs out. “Gotta admit, if he was my stepdad, I wouldn’t want his last name either. I mean, the way he walked up to Y/N… it was almost predatory.”

Derek stands off to the side, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He listens to the conversation but doesn’t say anything yet. He’s been watching Y/N closely ever since they walked into her mother’s house, noticing every shift in her demeanor, every tell-tale sign that she was far from okay. Now, hearing the others discuss her like she’s some puzzle to solve only makes his jaw tighten.

“We can’t just sit here and talk about her like she’s not in the other room,” Derek’s voice breaks them out of their conversation. “We shouldn’t be discussing and probing into her life without talking to her first.”

“She doesn’t exactly look like she wants to talk, Derek,” Emily points out. “She kind of bit our heads off when we originally tried to get something out of her. We’re just trying to get an idea so we can help.”

“Well maybe instead of talking about her we should be talking to her,” Derek says snippily. “Then we might actually be able to get her to open up.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow, “You think she’ll open up?”

“To me? Oh, I know she will,” Derek nods his head confidently. “She trusts me. If anyone is going to get through to her, it’s me.” He says, his voice steady, though there’s an edge of protectiveness in his tone.

Without waiting for anyone else to respond, Derek heads toward the room where Y/N disappeared. The others exchange quick glances, knowing Morgan has a point. He’s closer to Y/N than anyone else on the team, and if she’s going to talk to anyone, it’s him.

Inside the room, Y/N stands in front of the caseboard, her eyes scanning over the photos and files without really seeing them. Her mind is racing, and it’s written all over her face. Derek walks in quietly, closing the door behind him. He watches her for a moment, his eyes softening as he sees the tension in her shoulders, the way she’s gripping the edges of the table like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded.

"Princess," he says softly, using the nickname he knows she responds to when she’s upset. "You okay?"

Y/N doesn’t turn around, her voice coming out strained. "I’m fine, Derek."

He takes a step closer, his tone gentle but firm. "No, you’re not. Talk to me."

She lets out a shaky breath, still not looking at him. "It’s... it’s nothing. I just—there’s too much going on. I need to focus."

Derek’s not buying it. He steps closer until he’s standing next to her, he gently places his pointer finger under her chin, lifting her head up to him. "Y/N, look at me."

Reluctantly, she allows him to lovingly adjust her head, her eyes meeting his. The moment their gazes lock, Derek can see it—the fear, the anger, the confusion. She’s holding it all in, trying to keep herself together, but it’s a losing battle.

"You don’t have to do this alone babygirl,” Derek says softly, his voice full of concern. "Whatever’s going on, you know I’ve got your back."

For a second, she looks like she’s going to say something, but then she shakes her head, turning away from him again. "It’s just... I don’t know, Derek. I don’t know what to do, what to say,” she huffs frustratedly. “Things are a lot more complicated than everyone thinks they are.”

He watches her, giving her the space she needs but staying close, his presence solid and unwavering. "You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just talk to me."

Y/N’s breath hitches, and she suddenly steps back from the caseboard, running a hand through her hair as she starts to pace. "It’s not just about Adrian, okay? There’s... there’s something else."

Derek watches her carefully, his eyes tracking her movements as she starts to unravel. "What is it?"

Y/N’s mind is moving a million miles a minute, pieces clicking together as she starts connecting the dots. She stops pacing and stares at the board again, her heart pounding. "I found the connection," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

Derek’s brow furrows. "What?"

Y/N swallows hard, her hands trembling slightly as she starts flipping through the files. "It’s me,” she admits shakily. “I’m the connection,” she rushes out, throwing files left and right. “The girls. I know all of them. I guess I haven’t been processing faces until now, trying to block out the memories I have here, but I can’t do it anymore. These women…” her hands tremble as she moves. “They’re dead because they knew me.”

“Whoa, whoa, sweetheart, slow down,” Morgan places his hands on her shoulders gently to get her to stop rambling. “What do you mean you’re the connection? You haven’t been here in over nine years.”

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut, letting the warmth of Derek’s hands try to slow her mind. It works momentarily, but does nothing to slow her racing heart at the realization that she could be the key to this entire case. And she did exactly what she promised she wouldn’t. She jeopardized it. Ignored the fact she faintly recognized each victim. Ignored the nagging feeling in her brain that something was off. Thats why the team has been struggling to track the unsub, because they’ve been missing one key element. The connection between the victims. Why he picks them.

“They were all part of the same support group I was in when I was a teenager.” She swallows thickly, rubbing her now sweaty, nervous hands on her slacks. “All of them. That’s why I recognized Claire... and the others.”

Derek steps closer, his voice low but urgent. “A support group? For what?”

Y/N’s chest tightens as the memories flood back, memories she’s tried so hard to bury. "For survivors of abuse. Sexual abuse."

There’s a beat of silence as Derek processes what she’s just said. His jaw tightens, his protective instincts kicking in even harder. "Y/N..."

She doesn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Her eyes dart across the files, her mind racing as she speaks faster. "This isn’t just random. He’s targeting them, Derek. The girls from the group. I don’t know why, but he’s going after them. And now... now it’s happening again. They went through something so evil and vile as kids and now… now they’re being killed for it.”

Derek takes a step forward, his hand reaching out to gently grab her arm, grounding her. "Hey, slow down. We’ll figure this out, okay? You’re not alone in this."

“Derek, what if that means I’m next?” She asks him. “We have five victims, and there was only six people in the group. I’m the only one left.” She moves back to the case board, trying to see if any new information will reveal itself after this epiphany. “And it-it’s not like a lot of people knew about it…” she mumbles. “It was a private group, very secluded. It was us and whoever we chose to tell about our experience.”

“Babygirl…” The way Derek calls out to her, she can already tell exactly what question he’s going to ask next. Which is the main reason why she didn’t tell him sooner. She’s been trying to avoid the answer to this question for her entire life.

“Who did this to you?”

Y/N freezes, her eyes traveling down to her feet. She fights off the tears welling behind her eyes, needing to stay strong. This can’t have a hold over her anymore. She can’t keep living like this. In terror of returning to the place she used to call home.

“Adrian,” she says, her voice cracking. She doesn’t even have to turn to Derek to know his fists are clenched. She can feel the anger radiating off of him at the revelation. It all makes sense to him now. Why Y/N’s been acting off since getting to Baraboo, why she was uncomfortable in her childhood home, why she looked like she wanted to run and hide the second Adrian approached her. He violated her in a way no person should ever be violated. In a way that he understands all too well.

He manages to get ahold of his fury, walking closer to her. He sits down in the chair directly next to her body. He reaches out, grabbing her hand and rubbing his thumb over her soft skin. “How long?” He asks, a pained tone in his voice.

She keeps her eyes trained on her shoes, “Ten to fourteen,” she says barely above a whisper. “I went to the support group until I left for college at sixteen.” Y/N sits down next to him, almost hiding within herself. “Most of the other girls were older than me,” her eyes barely graze over the crime scene photos.

“Babygirl, this went on for four years? Did you tell anyone?” Derek wonders, not judging because he didn’t say anything either.

“I tried–” her voice cracks again as she chokes back her tears. She clears her throat to regain her composure, “I told my mom,” she admits quietly. “But she didn’t believe me. She told him I told her and that’s when things went downhill. She called me a liar, told me no one would believe me. Adrian played the victim throughout the whole thing, but the same night he came into my room and–” she sucks in a deep breath. “He told me it was my fault. That he was being so nice to me for doing what he was doing. Told me I wouldn’t make it without him or his help. And I was just a kid,” she sniffles. “I was scared out of my mind. I couldn’t defend myself because I believed him. And my own mother didn’t even think I was telling the truth. How could I tell the police?”

Derek doesn’t say anything but moves forward to pull her in for a hug. He holds her tightly and she slowly melts into his chest. They both can feel the eyes of the team on them, but choose to ignore it. “That’s why I went to the support group.” She continues, slightly muffled by Derek’s chest. “Because they were feeling the same way I was. Even if the people who did it to them were caught and put away, they still understood what it felt like.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t want you to have to relive this, but I gotta ask… Who else knew about these meetings?” He lifts her head up, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “Anyone that you can think of. If you truly believe you are the key to this case, you’re the only one who would know.”

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Y/N says honestly. “Whenever I would go I would say it was for tutoring or book club. I didn’t want them to know I was looking for help. But the other girls could’ve told someone. I don’t think they did though. When we went it was for us. To help us cope. We didn’t feel the need to tell anyone else because we had each other.” Her forehead creases as she tries to think of someone who could’ve been aware. “I guess the only other person who would’ve known is the girl who facilitated it. She graduated five years before I even got there. Got a degree in psychology. I think she actually became a therapist here.”

“Would she have told anyone?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “She was big on confidentiality. That’s why we all trusted her.” She thinks back to try and remember any detail she could. “Her name is Candy Brown. Dark hair, a couple inches shorter than me, real organized, had set schedules and certain ticks. Like borderline OCD. She would have to click her pen three times when moving onto a new person while taking notes.”

“She kept records?” Derek’s face suddenly morphs into one of extreme concern. “Y/N, if she wrote down everything you guys ever told her, someone could’ve easily found the notes and that’s how our unsub got his information. That’s how he could’ve figured out who was in the group.”

“We need to tell the team,” Y/N looks out the window towards the group of people who haven’t moved since Derek came to talk to her.

“Baby–”

“No,” she shakes her head, using her right hand to cup the side of his face. She looks him in the eyes genuinely for the first time since arriving in Wisconsin. “It’s okay,” Y/N reassures him. “This is information that pertains to the case and can help catch our unsub. They need to know.”

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

After telling the team all about her past, Y/N felt embarrassed but overall relieved. She could tell they were heartbroken for her, but none of them went too overboard with it, knowing it would make things worse if they coddled her over it. She was grateful to have Derek with her. She wouldn’t have been able to get through it without having a panic attack if he wasn’t holding her hand all the way through it.

Hotch sent her and Derek to find Candy and ask if she had lost her notes in recent months while him and the rest of the team delivered the more updated profile. Now that they had all the information, they could get a better idea of who this guy is.

Y/N was almost in awe of how large Candy’s building was. Sheriff Mills had given her and Derek the directions to get there, and it was almost refreshing seeing someone from that time in Y/N’s life flourishing. Especially since the other girls didn’t even get the chance to.

Walking into the office, Derek and Y/N flash their badges at the receptionist, informing her of who they are and why they’re here. She quickly guides them to Candy who is fervently writing down information.

“She just got done with a patient,” the receptionist whispers. “She’ll be done any second now.”

Suddenly the dark haired woman’s head shoots up, but not before clicking her pen three times. The same thing she needed to do when trying to move on from person to person.

“Candy Brown,” Derek begins, walking up to the woman to respectfully shake her hand. Y/N follows after him, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “I’m SSA Derek Morgan, and this is–”

“Y/N L/N,” Candy finishes, a mixture of shock and confusion in her voice. A small smile crosses her face as she takes in the now adult woman in front of her. “Wow,” she breathes out. “I haven’t seen you in–”

“Nine years?” Y/N finishes.

Candy nods, “Yeah.” She furrows her eyebrows, looking in between her and Derek, “What’s going on? I know your guys’ team is here investigating the murders, but why are you here?” She asks curiously.

“You remember the support group you created when I was here?” Y/N immediately jumps into the conversation, not bothering to beat around the bush.

“Yes?”

Y/N takes another step forward, analyzing the room around her, “I don’t know if you realized, but all of the victims were participants in the group.”

“Of course I realized,” Candy says. “That’s why I was so surprised to hear that you not only came back but are also working on a case where you could be a potential target.”

“And you weren’t worried about being a target?” Derek asks, brow quirked.

“No,” Candy answers with a small shrug. “After he killed Laura-”

“The second victim,” Y/N adds for clarification.

“Yeah,” Candy nods. “After I found out she was killed, I knew it was a matter of time before the others went.”

“And how exactly did you come to that conclusion?” Derek folds his arms, not understanding how she has so much intel on the case.

She swallows thickly, looking around and avoiding eye contact with the two agents. Y/N tilts her head, narrowing her eyes which makes the shorter woman squirm. “Candy…?” Y/N says expectantly.

“I thought they would’ve told you by now,” Candy starts. “I had a different office before this one. My old one burned down after it was burglarized.” Her explanation makes Y/N’s stomach twist in multiple different directions. Her and Derek make eye contact, knowing exactly where this is going.

“Let me guess, this all happened around two months ago?” Derek sighs when he watches Candy nod her head.

“Yeah. So someone did tell you?”

“No,” Y/N corrects. “That’s just when our unsub started killing.” She looks at Candy with a serious expression, “Listen, I need you to think long and hard about who could’ve had access to your office. Who also might’ve taken too much of an interest in the work you do with sexual abuse survivors.”

Derek elaborates more on the profile, “He should be a white male, late 40s to early 50s. He acts confident as a way to overcompensate for his past failures. He can be a bit of a creep sometimes but tries to cover it up with a facade of charm. He’s become an influential member of the community, but he wasn’t always that way. He had to claw his way up.”

Candy’s brows are furrowed in thought as she thinks deeply about what they’ve said. Her mind goes over the different people that were employed with her, those who spoke to her about her work, who showed interest. That’s when her eyes light up. She looks at Y/N, her lip quivering.

“What?” Y/N asks, immediately noticing the shift. “Candy, what is it?”

“The only other person who could’ve had access to my office in the other building was the cleaner I hired,” she answers. “I hired a third party to come later at night so my day janitors and custodians could go home earlier during the day.”

“Do you remember who this third party is?” Derek asks urgently, getting ready to phone Hotch.

Candy’s face falls, “It was Adrian,” she reveals quietly. Y/N feels like she’s been shot in the chest when the words leave her old friend’s lips. “He’s had this free lance cleaning business for some time now. It’s been pretty successful with all the small businesses around here. He was always asking questions after my meetings, but I would never tell him much. You know I wouldn’t betray Doctor-patient confidentiality like that.” Y/N nods along with the statement. “But after you left, the girls continued to see me. We met in group settings until I built my practice and then they started coming individually. Just for someone to talk to.”

“Did you still keep handwritten notes?” Y/N questions.

“Yeah,” Candy nods. “It’s the most efficient way for me to keep my thoughts organized. But there was one evening I remember that Claire came in and she was telling me how she felt isolated from the community. It was something all the girls had been hinting at, but I didn’t take it seriously until I realized all of them had said it. I was frustrated that I didn’t see them all asking me for help. So when Adrian came in that night, I just said that some of my clients felt alone.” She mentally facepalms, “I know I shouldn’t have even engaged in conversation, but he was just being so involved and nice about it. That’s when he told me to invite them to your mom’s luncheon.”

“And did they go?” Derek questions.

“Yes,” Candy nods. “I encouraged them to go together as emotional support. They all went to the same one.”

Y/N sighs, realizing they’ve already spoken to their unsub and let him get away. “And let me guess, it was the Sunday before your office was burglarized?”

Candy rubs a hand over her face, “And their files were the only ones unaccounted for.”

“Y/N, we need to call Hotch,” Derek tells her seriously. “We’re gonna need backup.”

She nods, a more than determined expression on her face. “Let’s go.”

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Rolling up to her mother’s house twice within the span of a day was unexpected for Y/N, but she’s determined now more than ever to make sure this visit leaves an impact. The woman is the first one out of an SUV, darting towards the door with her gun ready in her hands. Derek follows closely behind, accompanied by Hotch and the rest of the team.

Diane’s car is in the driveway, so Y/N knows this isn’t going to go as smoothly as she desires. If she could just go in and take Adrian down, she would. But she knows her mother is going to try and fight it.

Hotch gives the signal, and Derek pushes the door open, stepping in first with Y/N close behind. The rest of the team fans out, guns at the ready, but Y/N’s focus is singular: Adrian.

Diane is in the living room, flipping through a magazine. She looks up, startled to see them. “Y/N?” she says, her voice warm with surprise. She stands, smiling tentatively, “What’s going on? What are you doing here?”

Y/N’s throat tightens as she looks at her mother. The warmth, the confusion in Diane’s eyes—it almost feels like any other visit, except this time, it’s not. “We need to talk to Adrian,” Y/N says, her voice steady but distant.

Diane frowns, glancing at the rest of the team behind her daughter. “What’s going on? Why do you need to talk to him?” Her smile fades slightly, but there’s still an air of disbelief as if this can’t possibly be serious.

Hotch steps in, his voice professional, calm. “Where’s Adrian, Mrs. Cole? We need to speak with him.”

Diane looks between Y/N and the team, her confusion deepening. “He’s in the bathroom. But what’s this about?”

Y/N feels the familiar dread creeping in, the same doubt her mother always carried. She avoids Diane’s gaze and nods toward the hallway, signaling to Derek and Rossi. “Go get him.”

As Derek and Rossi head toward the hallway, Diane’s tone shifts, becoming more defensive. “Wait, Y/N, what’s going on? You can’t just barge in here—”

Y/N feels a knot form in her chest, but before she can respond, Derek’s voice calls out, sharp. “Adrian! We know you’re in there. It’s over!”

There’s a clatter from the bathroom, followed by silence. Y/N’s eyes dart toward the hallway, tension crackling between them all. She can’t breathe, waiting for the door to open, for Adrian to step out.

Diane’s face hardens now, the warmth fading. “Wait, you think Adrian had something to do with these murders you’re here for?” she asks, her voice incredulous. “This is absurd. He hasn’t done anything!”

Derek reappears at the doorway, his eyes locked on Adrian as he exits the bathroom. Adrian’s face is calm, too calm, but there’s an edge to his voice as he looks from Derek to Y/N. “What’s this about?”

“We know what you’ve been doing,” Y/N says, her voice breaking the silence, though her throat feels like it’s closing in on itself. The weight of her past is crashing down all at once. “We know you found out about my old support group and have been preying on the women.”

Diane’s eyes widen in shock, her voice turning sharp. “Wait—what? This is what you’re accusing him of?” She turns to Y/N, disbelief clear in her expression. “You can’t be serious, Y/N. You’ve always had it out for Adrian—”

“Mrs. Cole, stop,” Derek interrupts, his voice firm as he steps between Y/N and her mother. His protective instincts kick in, but there’s a bite in his words now as he faces Diane directly. “You didn’t believe her then, and I get that you don’t wanna believe her now, but this isn’t a game. He’s connected to multiple murders.”

Diane’s face turns pale as the words sink in, but she shakes her head, her hands trembling slightly. “You’re wrong,” she says, her voice breaking. “Adrian wouldn’t—he didn’t do anything.”

Y/N feels the sting of her mother’s disbelief. After everything, Diane still won’t accept it. Derek glances at Y/N, his voice lowering but full of fire. “She’s your daughter. You should’ve protected her. Instead, you’re defending him.”

Adrian looks like he’s about to speak when Diane steps in front of him, as if shielding him. “Y/N, this is insane. You’re arresting him for murders? You’re destroying our family—again!”

Y/N snaps, emotion flooding into her voice, “Do you even hear yourself? Do you understand what’s happening right now?” She doesn’t want to raise her voice, but it’s like years of anger are bubbling to the surface. “He hurt me. He manipulated me, and now other women are dead because of him!”

Diane looks at Y/N with wide eyes, as if she can’t process what she’s hearing. “You’re lying,” she says quietly, her voice shaking. “You’re making this all up. You always blamed Adrian for everything—”

Y/N’s heart twists painfully in her chest. Even now, her mother doesn’t believe her. Derek’s jaw clenches as he steps forward, practically growling now. “She’s not lying. She’s been through enough, and it’s time you started listening to her instead of defending this monster.”

Adrian, sensing that things are slipping out of his control, sneers at Derek. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Derek’s eyes are sharp as he glares back, full of unspoken anger. “I know enough.”

Hotch steps in then, signaling Spencer, Rossi, and Prentiss. “We’re taking him in,” he says, his voice calm but decisive.

Diane stumbles backward as Morgan pulls Adrian’s arms behind his back to cuff him. “You can’t do this!” Diane cries out, her hands shaking as she reaches for Adrian.

“Ma’am I’m going to need you to step back,” Prentiss warns, her voice firm but not unkind.

Diane turns to Y/N, desperation in her eyes. “Please, Y/N. Don’t do this.”

Y/N’s throat tightens again, the pain almost unbearable as she looks at her mother. “I didn’t do this. He did.”

As they haul Adrian toward the door, Derek stays by Y/N’s side, his hand gently resting on her arm. He leans in, his voice softening just for her. “You alright?”

Y/N can barely nod. “I just… I need this to be over.”

Derek squeezes her arm gently, the tension between them unspoken but palpable. “We’ll make sure it is,” he says quietly. “He’s not gonna hurt you anymore.”

As Adrian is led out, Y/N watches him disappear through the door, the weight of everything she’s carried for so long finally starting to lift. Derek stays close, his protective presence like a shield around her.

“I should’ve seen this sooner,” Y/N whispers, her voice full of regret.

Derek looks at her, his eyes full of something deeper, something he hasn’t said yet. “This isn’t on you,” he says, his voice steady. “We’ve got him now.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, her heart pounding, but there’s a strange sense of relief starting to creep in. Maybe, finally, this part of her life is coming to an end.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

In the interrogation room, Adrian Cole lounges in his seat, his cocky smile never wavering as Hotch and Derek sit across from him. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a cold, sterile glow, but Adrian is undisturbed, clearly enjoying himself. His eyes flick between Hotch and Derek, and there’s something calculating in the way he looks at them, like he’s already planning his next move.

Hotch keeps his voice steady, professional. “Adrian, we know about your connection to the women in the support group. Candy Brown confirmed that you used to work for her, that you were asking questions about the survivors. You were studying them, weren’t you? Figuring out how to get close.”

Adrian leans back in his chair, chuckling lightly. “Questions? You mean me being polite? Curious, maybe? Come on, Agent, that’s hardly a crime.”

Derek’s jaw tightens, but he remains composed. “You fit the profile. We know you’ve been stalking these women. We know Y/N was your real target all along.”

Adrian’s smile grows wider, his eyes shifting to Derek. “Oh, Agent Morgan. I see why you’re here now.” He leans forward, the playful tone in his voice turning darker. “This isn’t about the profile, is it? It’s about her. You’re here because of Y/N.”

Derek’s gaze hardens, but he doesn’t take the bait. “I’m here because of what you did.”

“What I did?” Adrian raises an eyebrow, mockingly confused. “You mean what you think I did. You’re just mad because you know I got to her first.”

The air in the room seems to thicken with tension as Adrian watches Derek’s reaction, clearly enjoying the game he’s playing. Hotch tries to redirect. “This isn’t about Y/N. It’s about the six women you killed.”

But Adrian’s eyes stay locked on Derek. “Six women… sure, that’s bad. But you know what’s worse, Derek?” He leans forward, dropping his voice to a whisper. “Knowing she’ll never be yours. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try to protect her, you’ll always be too late. You can’t fix what’s already broken.”

Derek clenches his fists under the table, the muscles in his jaw working as he forces himself to stay calm. Adrian’s words are cutting deep, hitting exactly where he intended.

“You’re wrong,” Derek growls, barely keeping his composure. “She’s stronger than you think. And you’ll never touch her again.”

Adrian’s smirk doesn’t falter. “Strong? Sure. Strong enough to get away from me last time. But the thing is, Derek… people like her? They always come back. It’s just a matter of time.”

Derek leans in, his voice deadly quiet. “You’ll rot in prison before you ever get that chance.”

Adrian sits back, casually crossing his arms over his chest, his grin widening. “We’ll see.”

Hotch, sensing Derek’s rising anger, stands up. “We’re done here.”

Derek hesitates for a split second, his eyes still locked on Adrian, but then he rises as well. Adrian chuckles lowly and his eyes follow Derek as he moves toward the door. “Leaving already, Derek?” Adrian’s voice drips with mockery. “Y/N must have told you everything by now. How she couldn’t resist, how much she used to like it when I—”

Derek spins back around, his anger breaking through for just a second. “You need to shut your mouth.”

Adrian’s smile only widens as he leans forward, reveling in Derek’s reaction. “Touched a nerve, did I? Guess it’s not just Y/N’s mind I wormed my way into, huh?”

Before Derek can step closer, Hotch holds out an arm, signaling him to back down. He knows Adrian is trying to bait Derek into losing control. “We’re leaving,” Hotch repeats firmly.

As soon as the door to the interrogation room shuts, Derek finally lets the anger show on his face. “That guy is a real piece of work,” he mutters under his breath. He paces, trying to rein in his emotions. Rossi, JJ, Prentiss, and Spencer are waiting, their expressions tense.

Hotch nods, his expression grim. “He knows how to manipulate, how to get under people’s skin. That’s why he’s dangerous. But we need a confession.”

Derek shoots him a look, his voice hard. “You’re not seriously thinking about sending Y/N in there.”

“She’s the only one he’ll talk to,” Hotch replies, his tone even, though there’s clear discomfort in his eyes. “He’s too focused on her. He won’t crack for us, but with her, he might.”

“She doesn’t need to be anywhere near that psycho,” Prentiss adds, backing Derek up.

Rossi nods, his arms crossed. “He’ll try to manipulate her, Hotch. He’ll push all her buttons. You know how dangerous that could be.”

Hotch looks around at the team, his face unreadable, but resolute. “He’s not going to talk to anyone else. Y/N’s the reason this is all happening—he’s fixated on her. If we want a confession, we need her.”

Derek is still pacing, shaking his head in frustration. “Hotch, you know what he’ll do. He’ll tear her apart mentally.”

“Derek…” Y/N’s voice cuts through the tension as she steps forward, her face calm but determined. “I need to do this.”

Derek looks at her, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. “No, Y/N. You don’t have to do this. Let someone else handle it.”

Y/N meets his gaze, her voice steady. “It has to be me. He won’t talk to anyone else, and you know it. I’m the one who has to end this.”

Derek runs a hand over his face, still conflicted, but he knows she’s right. He can see the resolve in her eyes, the same determination that’s been driving her since this case started. After a long moment, he nods, though it clearly kills him to do so. “Fine. But I’m right outside the door. The second you need me, I’m coming in.”

Y/N gives him a small, appreciative smile. “I know.”

With a final glance at the rest of the team, Y/N walks into the interrogation room. Adrian’s eyes light up the moment he sees her, his grin returning.

“Well, look who it is,” he says, leaning back in his chair like he’s just been handed a gift. “I knew you’d come.” His eyes flicker with amusement as he takes in her demeanor. She’s calm. No sign of fear on her face, making his fists clench. “You always were a clever girl, Y/N. Smart enough to know what you wanted but never strong enough to follow through. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You think you’ve won.”

Y/N narrows her eyes. “I didn’t come here to win anything, Adrian. I came here to end this.”

He scoffs, leaning forward again, his tone dropping to a darker pitch. “End what? You think locking me up will change anything? You’ll still be thinking about me. You’ll always be connected to me. You and I, Y/N, we’re the same.”

Y/N’s lips curl into a tight smile. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not like you, Adrian. I’m stronger because I don’t need to control anyone to feel powerful. You? You’re nothing. You never were. You thought you had control over me, but really, you were just a pathetic coward trying to feel important.”

Adrian’s jaw tightens, but Y/N can see the flicker of anger behind his eyes. She presses on, her voice dropping to a cold, cutting tone.

“You couldn’t control me, Adrian. That’s why you went after those other women. You thought by killing them, you’d finally feel like you had power over something. But deep down, you knew the truth. You’re impotent. You can’t control anyone, least of all me.”

His hand twitches on the table, and his smirk falters. Y/N knows she’s hit a nerve.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” Adrian hisses, his voice venomous. “You think you’re untouchable? I killed those women because they were weak! They were nothing compared to you! But I did it for you. Every one of them, Y/N! Every one was for you, to remind you of what I can do.”

His face twists with fury as he leans in, practically spitting the words now. “I did it because I knew it would bring you back to me. And guess what? It worked. You’re here. And when this is over, you’ll never forget me.”

Y/N doesn’t flinch, her eyes cold and unwavering as she meets his gaze. “You’re right about one thing, Adrian. I won’t forget you. But not because I’m scared or because you have any hold over me. I’ll remember you as the pathetic, cowardly man who couldn’t even face his own failures. You killed those women because you couldn’t handle the fact that I got away from you. That I beat you.”

Adrian’s face is red with rage now, his fists clenched as he glares at her. He’s lost his cool completely, no longer the charming manipulator he was trying to be. He’s exposed.

Y/N stands up slowly, looking down at him with calm, cold eyes. “You wanted me back in your life? Well, congratulations, Adrian. You’ve got a one-way ticket to prison, and the only time you’ll see me again is when you’re rotting behind bars.”

She leans in just a little, her voice dropping to a near whisper, her words like ice. “I won. You lost. And the worst part for you? You’ll spend the rest of your miserable life knowing I never belonged to you.”

Adrian’s face twists in a snarl, but he doesn’t say anything. Y/N doesn’t need him to. She’s already shattered his delusions.

As she turns to leave the room, she pauses in the doorway, glancing over her shoulder one last time. “Enjoy prison, Adrian. You’ll be surrounded by men just like you. Maybe they’ll remind you of what real powerlessness feels like.”

She walks out without looking back, leaving Adrian sitting there, fuming and defeated.

Outside, the team watches through the observation window. Derek’s eyes never leave Y/N as she steps into the hallway, her expression unreadable but victorious.

As soon as she’s out, Derek moves toward her, his voice low and full of quiet admiration. “You were incredible in there.”

Y/N gives him a small smile, but it’s bittersweet. “It’s over.”

Derek steps closer, his voice softening. “You did it, Y/N. You took him down.”

She nods, but before she can respond, her mother’s voice cuts through the moment. Diane, standing at the end of the hall, her eyes wide with shock and regret, had heard every word of Adrian’s confession.

“Y/N…” Diane’s voice trembles, her face pale as she takes a tentative step forward. “I didn’t know. I didn’t believe you and I’m—”

“Stop,” Y/N says, her voice sharp but not raised. She turns to face her mother, eyes hard. “I forgive you, Mom. But I’ll never forget what you did. Or didn’t do.”

Diane’s face crumples as she stares at her daughter, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, Y/N. I didn’t understand. I didn’t know how to—”

Y/N cuts her off again, shaking her head. “It’s too late. You had years to believe me. Years to help me. I’m done waiting for you to care.”

Diane reaches out, but Y/N takes a step back, her face unreadable. “Take care of yourself, Mom. I don’t need you anymore.”

With that, Y/N turns and walks away, the weight of years of pain finally lifted from her shoulders.

Derek watches her go, admiration and sadness flickering in his eyes. He catches up to her and without a word, pulls her into a tight embrace, holding her like he never wants to let go.

“You did good babygirl,” he murmurs into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. “You did real good.”

Y/N lets out a shaky breath, leaning into him. “It’s really over,” she whispers, and for the first time, she truly believes it.

₊‧ʚ ﹆・︵︵ ₊˚๑ ᕱ🌿ᕱ ꒱✦ ₊ ︵︵・₊﹆ɞ‧₊

Y/N stood in her kitchen, stirring the lavender tea she had made for herself, hoping the soothing scent would calm her nerves after the intensity of the past few days. The warmth of the mug seeped into her hands as she glanced at the clock—it was late, and for the first time since they wrapped the case, she was alone. It was a rare, precious quiet. She wore her comfiest pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt, her hair thrown into a messy bun as she padded over to the couch.

She sank into the cushions with a sigh, trying to let the exhaustion slip away. Just as she curled up, ready to embrace the quiet, a knock came at the door.

Her brow furrowed. Who could it be at this hour? A part of her tensed, but when she peeked through the peephole, her face softened.

Derek.

A smile immediately spread across her lips as she quickly unlocked the door and swung it open. "Derek," she said, warmth filling her voice. "What are you doing here?"

He stood there, dressed casually in jeans and a fitted t-shirt, but the warmth in his dark eyes was what made her heart flutter. He held a small box in his hands, the edges of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I couldn’t let you be alone after everything,” he said softly. “And... I brought you something.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, eyeing the box with curiosity. “Oh? And what’s that?”

Derek stepped forward, holding the box out to her. “Carrot cake. Figured you could use a little sweetness after the last few days.”

Y/N’s smile brightened, and she laughed softly, the tension of the case beginning to melt away. “You remembered it’s my favorite.”

“Of course I did. I remember everything about you,” he said, his voice low and teasing, but there was an underlying sincerity in his words.

She took the box from his hands, shaking her head in amusement. “I think I need something sweeter than carrot cake, though.”

Derek cocked an eyebrow, that signature smirk playing at his lips. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

Y/N met his gaze, her voice soft but playful. “You.”

The smirk on Derek’s face softened into something more tender as he watched her, his dark eyes flickering with a mixture of admiration and something deeper. “Is that right?”

She stepped aside, motioning for him to come in. “Come on, might as well share the cake if you’re here. I’m not letting you leave just yet.”

Derek chuckled as he stepped inside, glancing around her cozy apartment before his eyes landed back on her. “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.”

They moved to the living room, and Y/N placed the cake on the coffee table, her heart lighter now that Derek was here. The weight of the last few days seemed to lessen in his presence.

“So,” Derek said as they sat together on the couch, their knees brushing. “How are you holding up?”

Y/N exhaled, leaning back against the cushions. “I’m... okay. Honestly, I’m better now that you’re here. But it’s been a lot. I didn’t think I’d ever have to face him again, let alone...”

She trailed off, and Derek reached out, placing his hand gently on top of hers. “You don’t have to explain. What you did back there? Y/N, you were incredible. You stood your ground. You faced him head-on, and you came out stronger.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart swelling at the tenderness in his voice. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she said quietly. “You were right there the whole time, and knowing that... it made it easier.”

Derek’s hand slid up from hers, his fingers lightly brushing her cheek before he cupped the side of her face. His touch was warm, grounding. His voice lowered, filled with awe. “Y/N, I’ve always been in awe of you. Always. But after this... what you just went through? You’re the strongest woman I know.”

Her heart fluttered as his thumb softly stroked her cheek, his eyes searching hers. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the space between them charged with something unspoken but undeniably strong.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, and she let herself lean into his touch. “Derek...”

Before she could say more, Derek’s eyes flicked to her lips, and in a soft, almost tentative movement, he leaned in and kissed her. It was tender, a kiss filled with emotions that had been building for so long. Her hand found its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her palm as she kissed him back, letting the warmth of him pull her in.

When they pulled away, their foreheads rested together, and Y/N smiled softly. “That was...”

“Long overdue,” Derek finished for her, his lips brushing hers again in a whisper of a kiss before he pulled back slightly to look into her eyes. “You’re amazing, you know that? I’m proud of you. And I’m not just saying that because of this case. I’ve always been proud of you.”

Y/N’s chest tightened with emotion, and she bit her lip to keep her smile from spreading too wide. “You’ve always been my rock, Derek.”

“And you’ll always have me,” he said, his voice low and certain, like a promise.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Derek still holding her close, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in days. She rested her head against his shoulder, her fingers still lightly touching his hand.

Derek wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer as they sank deeper into the couch. Neither of them felt the need to speak anymore, the warmth of their closeness enough.

Eventually, the exhaustion from the case caught up to them. Their breaths evened out as they lay together, bodies intertwined on the couch, the world outside fading away as sleep overtook them.

For the first time in days, Y/N finally felt at peace, knowing she was exactly where she was meant to be—in Derek’s arms, where everything just felt right.