#not a takedown to be clear

[extensionallydefined]

This is a very interesting analysis! I agree a lot with certain points raised here even though I don't really agree with the reduced empathy/emotions angle. I can see the logic behind it and I'm more prone to agreeing with the low empathy idea than the low emotional responses idea (for example, I personally believe Kokichi's tears for Gonta are genuine, even though turning around later was the plan all along). Still, I think in my understanding of Kokichi, it's more of a "he has trouble showing emotion and empathizing with experiences he doesn't understand"/"he has conditioned himself to not show emotion to the point where he only does it by lying" situation than genuinely reduced empathy or emotional responses: you could understand my view as closer to the idea that these are learnt behaviors rather than an inherent experiential gap between him and others regarding empathy and emotion. (To expand on my other parentheses, I believe Kokichi's tears are genuine. That said, asking to be executed himself and a lot of what he says there is outright lying, but it's for the sake of having Gonta die thinking everyone is going to get along. I think Kokichi's goal there was both to further his own plan while also giving Gonta some closure [even if it's "dishonest" or "fake closure"] while allowing himself some emotional release before fully committing to his mastermind plan). That said OP clearly knows more about this topic of reduced emotions/empathy than I do so maybe I'm ignoring some factors or actually agreeing but in a more verbose way, but hopefully the parentheses should help explain my understanding of Kokichi's actions beyond technical terminology, headcanons or diagnosis.

That said I don't think that disagreeing on that front makes the rest of the analysis null, there's still a lot to chew on here! Structurally, I appreciate the endnotes and clarity and the care given to analytically explaining Kokichi's actions without making value judgements. I also think OP explains why Kokichi tells his "small lies" constantly very successfully. I think the boredom aspect with regular social interactions is definitely present (although part of me wonders whether this is because of genuine everyday boredom or because the tension of a killing game makes low stakes conversation always seem duplicitous in that context - there is an element of paranoia to how I analyze Kokichi's character that isn't present in this analysis, and maybe it's what replaces the empathy/emotions angle in my interpretation), and a lot of Kokichi's lies are definitely not mean to genuinely influence others' behaviors but are moreso meant for himself.

I don't really have more organized thoughts reagrding this at the moment but it was a fun read. I'm always going to be happy about seeing people analyzing Kokichi's actions and trying to understand them even if there's some discrepancies in how we see him - after all, and this is something I believe strongly, I think part of the point of his character is that his intentions and "internal processes" are ambiguous and left up to interpretation, so to an extent, attempting to analyze his character knowing you could be wrong or have people disagree is already, in a way, understanding the point of his presence in the game.

Overall, awesome work OP! Love it! I hope my comments are worthwhile

Character analysis: Why does Kokichi lie?

I think lying is more than just a means to an end for Kokichi, so this is my personal understanding of Kokichi's habitual lying, centered on the headcanon that he experiences his own emotions very weakly.

In a vain attempt to make this post more streamlined, I've isolated most textual examples into footnotes at the bottom; probably only read them if you don’t buy what I’m saying in the sentence prior. Lastly, if you disagree with something I say here and choose to make it known: probably read the footnotes first, and regardless please just be nice about it :')

"If I wanna become closer to Shuichi, I probably shouldn't lie so much... But that's my shtick... or more like, my way of life..." (Kokichi's inner thoughts from Salmon Team)

Small lies vs Big lies

To start this off, I need to clarify that there's (at least) two very different kinds of Kokichi lies. First are the “big” lies, like being the mastermind or lies about the nature of DICE. Big lies are consistent, told with a “straight face,” and well thought-out, because they usually serve some kind of strategic purpose [e.g. footnote 1]. But those aren't the kind of lies I'm aiming to explain here, because they're already well discussed and follow a pretty understandable logic.

I'm focusing on what I call "small" or compulsive lies: trivial claims & performed emotions that are usually not believed for long, either because they’re too outlandish or because he or someone else disproves them. For example, sobbing that he hates coffee and then asking for a cup of coffee; or telling the seance participants he's "actually super duper strong," despite knowing full well they're about to watch him struggle to carry the iron cage [more ex. in note 2]. Most of Kokichi's lies fall into this category imo, especially in low-stakes environments like Salmon Team and UTDP. Unlike big lies, "small" lies are somewhat unique to Kokichi, he tells/performs them constantly regardless of context, and they don’t serve a very clear purpose.

Masking

I think Kokichi got very good at performing emotions from a young age in order to mask the fact that he doesn't experience empathy or other emotions very strongly. And maybe that sounds like a very specific headcanon, but just stick with me here... [and/or see note 3 for one line of evidence]. Failing to emote convincingly would’ve not only made it difficult to exist in everyday society, but it probably would’ve put an even bigger target on his back as a criminal, too… So yeah, he learned.

But as it turns out, spending an (admittedly very short) lifetime pretending to have emotions you don’t actually have is a fantastic way to:

Start feeling detached from the people around you,

Start seeing everyone else as suckers for buying it, and

Very quickly lose any moral qualms about lying — after all, people would attack him from every direction if he was honest about his feelings towards them (or lack thereof), so how is it fair that they want to punish him for lying, too? There’s just no winning!

My interpretation boils down to this: Kokichi lies compulsively because he is deeply bored, and the kick he gets out of deceiving people is one of the only things he finds consistently rewarding about talking to them. Most social interactions already feel like lies to him because he is constantly forced to mask, so he might as well tell fun lies about being a supervillain instead of boring, easy lies about wanting to be friends with everyone.

(Continued under the cut)

Not all lies are strategic

I think it's easy to assume at first that the only reason to lie is for some sort of material influence: changing others' behavior or hiding undesirable truths, either for your own selfish gain or the greater good. Definitely, there is a purpose like that for most of Kokichi's "big" lies, and even some of his "small" ones (e.g. the kind of short-lived lies both he and Shuichi tell in order to advance the Class Trials). But even in retrospect, not every lie he tells can be explained with an external motivation like that, selfish OR unselfish.

I think telling "small" lies is more of a habit for Kokichi than a strategic choice, something he can't quit even when it becomes an actively bad strategy (hence "compulsive"). But if you’re already with me on this, feel free to just skip to the next section :P

A. Small lies aren't meant to be believed.

I don't think Kokichi tells lies in order to actually mislead people most of the time — because if he wanted people to believe his small lies, then he wouldn't be constantly retracting them. Many (or even most) of his small lies are soon followed up with “It’s a lie!”, either literally or by demonstrating/implying that it’s untrue [e.g. note 2 again]. [For some possible exceptions to this rule, see note 4].

Fig 1: Kokichi struggling not to give himself away after Monotarou believes his outlandish lie (V3 manga anthology). While I think this instance is a bit exaggerated, it nicely draws attention to the fact that he enjoys revealing his own lies.

By Kokichi's own doing, there is often a net 0 change in what people believe by the time they reach the end of a conversation with him. E.g. Kaede doesn't walk away from their FTE thinking Kokichi is her long-lost companion, Shuichi doesn't walk away from Salmon Team thinking Kokichi is obsessed with dumpster diving, etc. This suggests that Kokichi's not trying to change the perceived truth, he's just interested in the momentary act of tricking people.

B. Kokichi doesn’t tell small lies to alter his social standing, for better OR for worse.

I think the first half of this is self evident — I mean, if he was trying to gain status, he's doing a terrible job! He is aware of what behavior is required to make people like you and listen to you, and he is patently not doing that. 

You might then argue that he’s doing the opposite: intentionally bombing his reputation to build up to Ch.5 so that people would readily believe he’s the mastermind. While I do think his annoying lies ended up helping on that front, I don’t think his mastermind plan is the cause of this behavior, because...

Firstly, we still see him lie constantly in contexts where there's no clear advantage to being hated (UTDP, Salmon Team).

Secondly: Crying wolf is one of many great strategies to make people hate you... but it is a uniquely terrible strategy to make people believe you. If you were really going to create an evil mastermind persona out of thin air, "pretending to be a lying attention-seeker" is just not the most logical way to go about it; that would only make it harder for you to convince people that you're actually being serious when you do the big reveal that you're the mastermind [for a note on Junko, see 5]. That's why I don't think the compulsive liar thing is an act; instead the evil persona we see in game is just the result of leaning into traits people already disliked about him. The reason he tells so many meaningless small lies during the killing game is just that he already was, and is, a compulsive liar.

Again, there are some "big" lies, lies he doesn't go back on, that he tells in order to tank his reputation (e.g. "The more you suffer, the more I enjoy it"). But those big lies aren't enhanced at all by the fact that he walks around telling people the sky is green, you know? That might make people hate him, but it's not the wisest way to do so while still maintaining control over people.

Finally, regarding the argument that he tanks his credibility in order to mask his own emotions, see note [6].

So, with all that said... Why even tell these lies, if they don't give him more control over the situation, his classmates, or the truth?

Boredom

I believe Kokichi’s small lies are primarily driven by boredom. Yes, his complaints of boredom are probably meant to tie him to Junko (narratively) and justify enjoying the killing game. But I do think he’s also genuinely, chronically bored. Just because he doesn’t have vivid emotions doesn’t mean his brain isn’t expecting him to have vivid emotions, if that makes sense, so there’s just a constant lack of stimulus that leaves him restless.

On that note, I think it's difficult for him to maintain interest in everyday conversations. There's not usually a lot at stake for him, because he doesn't feel much about the people around him, and isn't interested in pretending that he does just so they can feel "connected" to a version of him that doesn't actually exist [but see 7].

It doesn't matter to him which path he takes when navigating everyday social interactions, so if he has to get through those interactions anyway, he's going to take the road less traveled. Pointing fingers, confessing to murder, and spontaneously bursting into tears… it’s not usually to accomplish anything in particular. It's more like doing backflips in an empty prison cell: equally as useless as rotting on the floor, but marginally more entertaining.

Fig 2: Kokichi consciously using lies to entertain himself. His dissatisfaction with the lie appears to be unrelated to whether or not it was believed; I suspect this is because the claim was so mundane that convincing Shuichi of it wouldn't have been very impressive in the first place.

But what's actually fun about lying?

I think this constant need for entertainment is what motivates a lot of Kokichi's social behaviors, not just lying. But he clearly has a special relationship with lies in particular. I think this is partially because of his perception of himself as "fake" (in the literal sense), but more importantly because lies are a versatile, challenging, and (relatively) harmless way to get reactions out of people.

Lying poses creative and intellectual challenges: Introducing lies basically doubles the amount of social calculations required to participate in conversation [elaboration in note 8].

Lying creates artificial stakes by reimagining ordinary conversations as competitions. By playing a game of "how many times can I fool this person in one sitting?" he creates an internal motivation to engage in conversation and perform social behaviors convincingly (at least, for short periods of time). External pressures like “being liked” aren’t usually enough to motivate that.

Lying allows him to emotionally occupy extreme scenarios without actually creating extreme scenarios. If he wants to raise tensions high enough that he can actually feel them, lying is one of the less destructive ways to do so, because it's entirely verbal (including body language, that is) and thus avoids material risk/harm. Now that's not to say it doesn't hurt people [e.g. note 9]. In fact, that's often the point; I wouldn't call him a sadist in the traditional sense, but there is something gratifying about triggering twinges of guilt and empathy in yourself if you don't normally have access to those feelings.

All this to say, Kokichi's habitual small lies aren't driven by a desire to create genuine misunderstandings, or to make people do what he wants [note 10]. I think what he actually seeks from social situations is little bursts of catharsis from witnessing other people’s emotions, and the feeling of control or "winning" that comes solely from being able to deceive them and get those reactions. 

Going "it's a lie!" right after is a really important part of this. It's a punchline, a tiny power trip, a kind of "Bingo!" he can use to declare victory. He doesn't necessarily want people to believe what he said, he just wants them to know that he totally got them and he'll do it again. Because what’s even the point of coming up with all these lies if people are just going to believe them and obliviously move on?

Lying as satire

Finally, and I’ll admit my thoughts on this aren’t quite as fleshed out, but I almost imagine Kokichi's lies as a form of satire, given that one of the few things he seems genuinely (?) passionate about is his right to lie. That is to say, it means something to him, in addition to being internally rewarding. He's had to present a false persona of himself from day one, after all — but now that he's a self-proclaimed bad guy, there's a lot less pressure to do it well. Performing those social behaviors in random, nonsensical patterns, and telling lies that feel just as true as the "honest conversation" he's learned to fake... it's like a form of indignant social button-mashing. It doesn't really matter if his performance conveys a coherent image of a person or not, because it was always arbitrary to him in the first place, you know?

….And I think I'm just going to stop myself there before this gets any longer. Tysm for reading!!!! <3

Disclaimer

…Actually that was a lie, let me get on my soapbox real quick. I think it's safe to say this essay hinges on Kokichi having some form of neurodivergence, however you want to label it. Personally I see him as having some antisocial traits, but I didn’t want to make that a silver bullet, and I thought it’d make more sense to just take the specific traits I see in him and work backwards from there. With that in mind, I want to make it abundantly clear that I don’t mean to assign any moral value to emotions. I can’t say this headcanon is entirely based on my own experiences, but there's a reason I connect with it, and I don't think anyone should be judged or labeled inhuman for emotions they do or do not have.

Moreover, while I explicitly take the stance that his emotions are morally neutral, I am explicitly NOT taking a stance on the morality of his behaviors. My intention here was just to explain them logically. Between you and me, just trust that I'm a Kokichi enjoyer and I did my best to consider things from his perspective.

Credits

Game screencaps from justonegamr and JakkHearts on Youtube. Manga screencap from Mangadex.

I also want to plug this analysis by @/g0nta-g0kuhara — I'm honestly not sure how much of my analysis aligns with/borrows from theirs, but it's definitely one of the posts that informs my current understanding of Kokichi, so it'd feel weird not to at least mention it. Consider giving it a read!

Finally, shout out to @thedaythatwas for peer reviewing this meta!!

Footnotes

These were mostly off the top of my head, so if I got anything wrong, feel free to (again, nicely) point it out ^^;

 “Big lies serve a strategic purpose” Big lies are also what I'd call the "normal" type of lies, just like Maki's Child Caregiver lie, or Komaeda's fake bomb threat — they're meant to be believed and to influence people's decisions. Examples of Kokichi's "big lies": those he tells in order to impersonate the Mastermind (e.g. claiming he loves the killing game); lies to Miu (being oblivious to her murder plot) and Gonta (believing the Killing Game Busters is a good idea) for his Ch.4 scheme, and debatably DICE lies to protect himself and his Ultimate title (though for these I also think he just gets a kick out of trying to juggle such a big lie for so long).

“Small lies” An example of an "emotional" small lie is the times he bursts out crying; he's not necessarily making false claims, but his actions communicate feelings he doesn't have, and most of the time he'll follow up by reverting to a bored expression thus implicitly confessing to the lie. His claim that he can’t taste food is also a pretty good example of a verbal lie: it’s random, difficult to believe, and he immediately follows it up by saying he likes sweet and spicy things. (That last part was definitely intended to imply he was lying, but whether or not he was lying about lying depends on your hc… I personally choose to believe that he has a weak sense of taste and relies on “interesting” textures like carbonation, because I think it parallels my take on his reduced emotions in a fun way.) +++ For further examples, the majority of Kokichi's Salmon Team events are just him spouting random bullshit and then immediately taking it back.

"One line of evidence for reduced empathy/emotions": His thought process often reads to me like someone with low empathy; and his ability to rapidly switch between extreme emotional performances and total flatness suggests that, in his natural form, his internal reactions are either dull or don’t automatically reflect on his face. For example, when Kokichi "gets real" during trials, his expression often goes blank and he comes off as overly blunt/pragmatic (“Everything you said is total BS… You didn't give two shits about Tenko when she was alive." "How do you expect to find the culprit when you're all worried about each other's feelings?" "Why do you guys hate lies so much? […] And some of them are only white lies, or lies to be kind to people…") They're delivered flatly (voice/sprites, and phrasing to a lesser extent) and express frustration with people's hypocrisy around social norms. To me these are moments when he gets so fed up with the social dance taking everyone in circles that he has to step out for a second and drop the mask, even knowing that his true self will make people see him as inhuman. (I probably shouldn’t have to clarify, but for the record I say all this as someone with low empathy myself.) +++++ALSO: I want to credit @/g0nta-g0kuhara's meta for pointing out that Kokichi's expression goes flat in (different) honest moments - linked in credits above - although I ultimately interpret this in a slightly different way for his character.

"Some exceptions to the 'it's a lie' rule": His own thoughts and feelings, which are often kept ambiguous. Lies he doesn't need to retract because they're obviously false ("I hate liars!" or "I was born from the big tree behind Hope's Peak Academy..."). Small *non-compulsive* lies that serve a strategic purpose, like perjury to further the trials (though you could argue these too are "obviously false" and basically retract themselves after a moment of critical thinking; e.g. claiming he killed Angie (ch3), or debatably telling Himiko she mentioned the brick handrail (ch4) because he intentionally casts doubt over the lie by telling it very badly). And of course, he doesn't go back on his "big" lies or the lies that serve to support them.

“Compulsive lying isn’t the best way to impersonate the mastermind”: Although I think his lying is very connected to his boredom, and his boredom connects him to Junko Enoshima, I want to point out that he is unaware of Junko. To the viewers of Danganronpa 53, his behavior absolutely looks like the behavior of a mastermind… but there’s no reason for Kokichi himself to think that “someone pathologically bored who constantly switches personas” is the most believable caricature of the mastermind. I think that’s a coincidence that was engineered by Tsumugi, and from Kokichi’s perspective it’s just part of his personality.

"Tanking his credibility to mask his emotions": As some have pointed out, being constantly dishonest does make it easier for Kokichi to dismiss his own moments of vulnerability and keep his thoughts/feelings ambiguous (e.g. gracefully backing out of his love confession to Shuichi during the love suite by pretending he was joking. The idea that it's a prank is only believable to Shuichi because he already knows Kokichi likes to pull his leg in other ways). I don't disagree with this interpretation of Kokichi's lies, in fact it's a really fascinating angle and part of what makes interpreting him so challenging. However... I still don't think that's the ONLY reason he walks around telling people the sky is green. Its usefulness is pretty limited to cases like the love suite, where he's trying to 'test the waters' and back out if the first approach fails. A superficially similar example is when he cries for Gonta's execution and then whirls around with whole "I don't want to, stupidhead!" bit — he's not actually testing the waters here, because he never intended to go forward with the story 'I'm really sad about Gonta and I regret doing that;' even if you think the tears were real, the plan was always to retract it. What actually saves face for him here is the fact that he's able to stop crying and go on a straight-faced villain monologue afterwards — and all that was *required* to make that believable was his acting skills (admittedly helped by his "evil" reputation, but not necessarily by his "liar" reputation). In other words, I'm inclined to think it would have worked even if he had presented as 'honest but mean-spirited' up until this point. It's the same way Tsumugi can convince us in Ch.6 that she's evil and her grief for previous victims was an act, despite never having presented herself as a liar until now; Kokichi is lying about being a heartless villain, while Tsumugi (ostensibly) is not, but they have the same effect in the moment because their ability to switch rapidly between 'good' and 'evil' personas proves *in itself* that they're good actors, and that one of those personas must be false, regardless of how their honesty was perceived beforehand.

"Kokichi lacks emotional stake in other people": This is simply a headcanon I am positing because I think it has interesting implications for his relationship with lies. Please don't be mistaken when I say that Kokichi doesn't care about the people around him (all of the English words for "caring" are frustratingly ambiguous, in my opinion). I don't think Kokichi experiences "care" as an emotion very often, no, but that doesn't mean he can't take interest in people, have opinions on them, or "care about" them through his actions. Now, whether or not he actually does that.... is not the topic of this essay either!

"An intellectual challenge": To lie, you have to continually generate a false narrative (rather than just regurgitating the truth), you have to track which routes you've left open based on what you've already said, and you have to assess whether or not they believe you (...which are all similar to calculations you'd already be used to doing if you don't have empathy). If you want to win, you have to do all of this on the fly and do it really, really well. And once people know you're a liar, it not only gets harder to convince them of your lies, it also gets harder to convince them of the truth; once lies are introduced, the pressure to perform well pervades every part of the conversation. Of course, this is way more fun with bigger lies (like DICE lies, in my opinion), but the little ones still take a modest amount of effort (an amount he can afford to expend on a daily basis) and yield a much more immediate reward.

"Lying still hurts people": e.g. Kokichi accuses Kaede of strong arming everyone during the Death Road of Despair, then accuses everyone else of attacking her the following morning. This one is a complicated example because it was such an obvious lie that I really have trouble believing that he wanted anyone else to buy it (I really think the point was to annoy people and raise social tensions), but even though the lie was quickly pointed out, it still actually made everyone gang up on Kaede, to the point she leaves to cry in her room afterwards.

“Lying isn’t to make people do what he wants”: Again, I'm just talking about his everyday compulsive lying here. While he does use DICE related lies to make people do what he wants (e.g. make Shuichi hang out with him), I consider those part of his "big schemes" rather than his habitual behavior, since his claims about DICE are consistent, well thought-out, and long term. Not to mention, the veracity of those claims isn't too important to me, since he's already very transparent about the fact that he's trying to threaten people into doing his bidding in these cases.

[hushedstars]

The more I hear which scenes First and Khao changed or improvised in THK, while knowing what they added to OF, the more I'm convinced Jojo is not that good of a storyteller (at least when it comes to feelings and building the relationships in a way that feels natural, treating all characters right. And well there is many things that should have been discussed more, made more believable etc.). He has a vision, scenes he wants to show, easter eggs, tropes etc. but the things in between that would give the story more depth are treated too lightly, dropped or just not even thought about.

I will have to watch something of his without FirstKhao to learn more, to see in him what people were so excited about before OF came out but well... the good acting (I'm delighted by Joong whose acting I'm seeing for the first time), FK improvisations and the curiosity over a storyline that just disappoints me from time to time are carrying his shows for me so far.

The premise of the show (OF. THK) is good. But while the story unfolds it just starts getting messy but not in a fun way. There is so much potential for it to be great and yet...

(Not to say I wholly dislike the shows, I wouldn't watch them if I did, I just wish they were better.)

Things in THK I would expand on/change:

show more of Kant's relationship with Babe

show more of Kant falling for Bison bc while I can see the love on the actors faces, the script is lacking in the progression of their relationship (on his side) for me (give me more of his internal conflict after Bison protected Babe with him)

Kant and Style keep telling the brothers how they want them to stop killing people but like... it sounds a little empty to me bc we barely saw them interacting with a hitman part of them, no talks about why they kill those people (like having Kant see/hear Bison shooting sb like in the trailer would be so cool)

show focusing on Kant being the only liar in KB relationship is so meh to me bc while Kant knew who Bison is, Bison didn't and that makes his constant talks about trust quite hipocritical (both of them had reasons not to say anything)

Bison being at least a little apologetic once he learned why Kant fears the ocean so much

while I can see FadelStyle relationship blooming beautifully once they got together, Style was an asshole to Fadel before that (and no, not in endearing way, I didn't forget about his complete disregard to that grief support group). I would cut some of his behaviour out or change it (sauna scene and support group - they could go with him listening and being respectful and that making Fadel see him in different light. The glimpse of a boy he was towards him later on.)

I would add Kant telling Fadel about his need to protect Babe, how there is only two of them. I think that would make Fadel as an older brother understand his motives and there would be some grudging respect. That's the man he would be okay with (in my eyes).

the police... like why so incompetent (more so than in real life). At least show us Kant and Style being interrogated once they came back from the island.

there was no scene in which the brothers told Kant and Style it was their mother who killed their parents, right? It happened behind the scenes which is a shame imo. I could at least see Bison coming to Kant for comfort.

(This show would benefit from being more drama than comedy tbh. There are so many storylines that are just tragic and would be amazing if treated with care and expanded on.)

[pubbee]

Did I miss something why do so many ppl have the take that Harribel isn't actually one of the strongest Espada??

Like every discussion and video that talks about power scaling and x vs y is like "ah yes the strongest espada: Yammy, Starrk, and Ulquiorra" like WH-????

[desultory-novice]

Hey so since the Kirby panel at the Game Developer’s Conference is happening tomorrow, do you plan on taking down all the coverage?

T-taking down?! Wait... Hold on...

I hadn't heard about this conference til just now?!!

Is there going to be an announcement of something?

And by take down, you mean the interview, or is there something else I need to remove? (I really, really don't want to lose this blog!)

EDIT:

PHEW! Okay... Sorry about that...

I got really scared...

But agh... that's not great timing for me.

I have something going on RL tomorrow and the next day that I really can't miss, so I don't think I'll be able to join the first responders. If the GDC uploads the conference, I'll definitely try to watch it later! And I'll happily join in on the after discussion later in the week!

[quinnmorgendorffer]

[sea-changed]

Recent attempts to recover the gay past have been characterized by a desire to avoid anachronistic thinking and to show how unexpectedly influential society is in shaping sexuality. But to draw an international date line between 21st-century sexualities and those of the Victorians is itself an exercise in anachronism. Simply to identify differences is not to avoid anachronism.

Graham Robb, Strangers: Homosexual Love in the Nineteenth Century (2004)

[insanitize]

unless vocaloid changed in some major way while i wasn't looking, i can assure you hand over heart this is not vocaloid. take a listen to some things with me:

"audio grain". ai generated vocals need to be built ground up by the software generating them and often have a crackling, gurgling, or grainy sound as a result. vocaloid for the most part does not have this issue because its method of generating voice is different. generally, if vocaloid has a particular artifact i'd say sets it apart, it would be a "tinny" sound on sustained notes, which this song doesn't have. this song has the "grain" sound. why would a producer add that in intentionally?

accent. if we were dealing with a vocaloid voicebank, the accent of the singer would be consistent. all sounds would be pronounced the same way every time they are pronounced. here it seems dependent on the surrounding sounds.

songwriting. the difference between ai music creation software and vocaloid is that with voice synths like vocaloid you still have to write the song. ai music generators write the song for you based on a prompt. most ai music generators allow you to simply write in the lyrics you'd like the ai to sing, and it proceeds to generate a song without any further input, which means its hard to specify things like structure and timing, which you'd have control over if you were writing a song and using vocaloid. the structure of this song lacks a lot of human deliberation. bar count is hard to follow, lyrics are split unnaturally and syllables fail to match with the stresses naturally allowed for by the song, which makes most words sound oddly pronounced. if these were human errors, they may be understandable for someone inexperienced in writing, but this song is also notably well produced, and if the voice in question is vocaloid, it is very well tuned. it doesn't add up.

voice itsself. i can partially understand why this could be mistaken for vocaloid. it wouldn't surprise me if the model is trained on vocaloid voices, this one does at many points sound a lot like gumi. (lacking in her normal accent though!) however, one thing stands out to me, and it's that this voice is screaming. vocal fry and heavy screaming are notoriously hard to emulate through voice synthesis. doing it in vocaloid involves getting very clever with a voicebanks ability to whisper. this screaming, however, is uncharacteristically good. never in my life have i heard a vocaloid shout so viscerally as this, which inclines me further to believe that's not what this is.

i agree that some people also call vocaloid ai generated. but the difference is that the "ai" voice synths use nowadays is used to make the voice sound more natural. aside from that, people who call vocaloid "ai" are still largely wrong. ai is a songwriting tool, vocaloid is a musical instrument. this is ai, this is not vocaloid.

[audliminal]

Send help I saw one (1) post about misfits and magic and now I'm obsessed again

[prokopetz]

I think a lot of the disagreements regarding how acceptable it is to be public about media piracy channels boil down to different experiences based on what exactly you're trying to pirate.

Some folks are like "it doesn't matter whether you publicly discuss piracy sites because the publishers 100% already know about them, and if they get taken down an identical replacement will be up and running a week later", and sure, that's absolutely true – if the media you're interested in pirating is relatively mainstream.

On the flip side, if the shit you want to torrent lives at the intersection between "of interest only to a limited audience" and "currently owned by a notably litigious publisher that isn't an all-knowing global megacorp" – and this is where a great deal of fringe media lives – greater caution may be warranted, because there's no guarantee when, or even if, a given piece of media will become available again when wherever it's currently on offer eats a takedown notice.

That's kind of the paradox of trying to preserve and distribute media which appeals only to a limited audience. On the one hand, obviously an archive or repository that nobody knows about doesn't do anyone any good; on the other hand, if a given piece of media has only ever been made publicly available outside of commercial venues via one particular channel, and that channel gets overpublicised and subsequently taken down, it's often far from clear whether anyone will be willing and able to fill the void.

[tinypandacakes]

Attn authors on AO3! Just learned about this on a writing discord I’m in and thought I’d share.

A new website, https://rivd.net/, has cropped up and has been shown to have stolen/scraped works from Ao3, which are being scraped and uploaded at a rather impressive speed.

At this time, it isn't clear if site owners have wised up and have started taking the fics down, as the site requires an account and also the current *justified outrage* at this has led to an apparent overload on the site's servers, meaning they've basically shut down the search and privatized their fanfiction category.

The best way to protect your work if it has not already been scraped is by locking it to all logged out users. It’s unfortunate as guest comments and kudos are so precious to us authors, but it will protect your works from being scraped.

Further information can be found in this Reddit thread and the below screenshots: https://www.reddit.com/r/AO3/comments/1dvyvqm/ao3_fics_being_uploaded_to_rivd_by_a_bot/

NOTE: DO NOT USE RIVD's DMCA TAKEDOWN FORM. You SHOULD NOT be required to provide your *government ID* to protect your intellectual property. This is borderline a phishing scam. RIVD is hosted by Cloudflare, who have a system for reporting abuse on sites which use their services which can be found at the following site: https://www.cloudflare.com/trust-hub/reporting-abuse/.

Thank you @punemy-spotted for compiling all this info and helping get the word out.

[bet-on-me-13]

The GIW did it!

So! Danny gets captured by the GIW, gets experimented on for a bit, and breaks out.

He manages to get home, but in his rush he accidently de-transforms before checking that the coast was clear and his Parents see his Ghost Form. Before he can turn invisible or fly to run away, his parents charge at him and Hig him tightly.

They start crying and hugging him, just happy that is is back.

Oh yeah, he had gone missing for a full week with no explanation...

Eventually his parents calm down and Danny is forced to explain everything, but in a Classic Fenton Misunderstanding, when Danny explains that he had been taken by the GIW, his parent instantly assume the GIW was the ones to turn him into a Ghost.

Before Danny can correct them, they are already rushing into their Lab to plan out their takedown of the GIW and all their affiliates.

Well, that works, he guesses...?

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost in Translation: Part One

Summary: Six years after Spencer Reid left you all alone in your dorm room, you’ve moved on and built a new life in Virginia, becoming close friends with Derek Morgan. When Spencer unexpectedly reappears as part of Derek’s team, old feelings resurface.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, friendly fluff

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, past rejection, reflecting on past hurt, seeing the person who hurt you, Spencer still being a dumb man, talks of past hook ups

Word count: 9.2k

a/n: hiiii this is kind of a filler? it's just a lot of angst and build up for the reconciliation 👀

main masterlist prologue part two part three part four

Six years later, Reid sat on the back of an ambulance, the adrenaline of the situation slowly ebbing away as medics checked him over. His hair was mussed, and his face bore bruises from the day's takedown, but his eyes were clear, focused, if a little distant. Hotch approached, relief etched across his face, but concern still lingering in his eyes as he looked down at Reid.

“I hope I didn’t hurt you too badly,” Hotch said, his tone light, though laced with genuine worry.

Reid glanced up, then looked off into the distance, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Hotch,” he said, pausing for just a moment before meeting his gaze, “I was a 12-year-old child prodigy in a Las Vegas public high school.” He let the statement hang in the air for effect before adding, “You kick like a 9-year-old girl.”

Hotch’s serious expression cracked into a grin, the tension of the day releasing in that shared moment of humor. He gave Reid an appreciative nod, proud that even now, even after everything, he could find a way to see the light in the darkness. They’d taken a risk to apprehend the unsub—a risk that had paid off. The case was closed, and most importantly, Spencer was okay.

Once the team returned to Quantico, Penelope Garcia came barreling toward them like a whirlwind, eyes wide with concern as she made a beeline for Spencer. 

“Oh my God, are you okay?” she asked, fussing over him, brushing nonexistent dust off his jacket. “I heard what happened, and I nearly had a heart attack, and you know how hard I work to keep this heart in tip-top shape.”

Derek let out a chuckle, looping an arm around Spencer's shoulders and giving him a good-natured shake. “Don't worry, Baby Girl,” he said. “Pretty Boy here is tougher than he looks.”

Elle stood nearby, a smirk tugging at her lips. “So what do you say, Reid? Can we take you out for a drink to celebrate? Show you a little team bonding now that we’re back in one piece?”

The offer made Spencer stiffen, a flicker of unease passing through his eyes. He hadn’t had his first drink yet—never quite found the right moment. His last encounter with alcohol flashed through his mind, from when he was still working on his PhD. He'd been at a party, talking to someone he wanted to take home... until they got too drunk and threw up on him, which put him off the idea of drinking ever since.

“Uhh,” Spencer started, rubbing the back of his neck as he awkwardly shrugged Derek’s arm off. “I’m not sure—”

“Nuh-uh,” Derek cut him off with a playful but firm shake of his head. “None of that, kid. You’re part of this team, and it’s time we show you what that means. Drinks on us. One drink won’t hurt, right?” 

Spencer looked between them—Derek’s grin, Elle’s teasing smile, and Penelope’s excited nodding—and felt the reluctant pull of acceptance. They weren’t going to take no for an answer, and for a moment, he let himself relax. Maybe a night out with the team wouldn't be so bad.

The bar was loud and buzzing with life. The team was clustered around a table, drinks in hand, and the mood was light, almost celebratory. Laughter echoed over clinking glasses as Derek teased Spencer about finally being out for drinks, Elle and JJ swapped jokes, and Hotch even cracked a rare smile as Penelope regaled everyone with her overly-dramatic reenactment of their last case. Spencer found himself laughing along, more relaxed than he thought he’d be, though he stayed firmly planted with his untouched glass of club soda.

Amid the fun, Derek's phone buzzed loudly, and he stood to answer it, holding up a hand to excuse himself. “Hold that thought, guys,” he said, flashing his signature grin as he walked a little away from the table, pressing the phone to his ear. The team continued their conversation, only pausing when Derek returned, looking apologetic.

“Sorry, guys,” he said, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “My lady is in distress; I gotta go rescue her from a bad date.”

That earned a round of good-natured chuckles from the team. Elle raised an eyebrow, asking, “Need us to come with, knight in shining armor?”

But Spencer, the one to always take things literally, frowned in confusion. “Your girlfriend is on a date with someone else?” he asked, tilting his head like he was trying to figure out a complex puzzle.

That only made everyone laugh harder, JJ practically doubling over and Hotch shaking his head with amusement. Derek just clapped Spencer on the back, his chuckle deep and hearty. 

Penelope, ever the playful dramatist, wiped away an imaginary tear. “As much as it pains me that my Chocolate Thunder has another woman in his life,” she sighed, draping an arm dramatically over her forehead, “that’s his best friend, not his girlfriend. He’s just playing superhero tonight.”

“Yeah, she’s just my little lady,” Derek explained, still smiling as he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “And trust me, she needs saving from some pretty questionable dates.”

Spencer nodded slowly, his eyes darting around as if processing this new piece of social information, a small “ohhh” escaping his lips as he finally understood. The rest of the team just laughed and clinked their glasses together, waving Derek off as he headed out to play the role of rescuer once again.

—

You smiled awkwardly, forcing a laugh as you tapped your foot under the table, hoping the nervous rhythm would hide your growing discomfort. Across from you, your date sat with an overly self-satisfied grin, clearly pleased with themselves for whatever joke they’d just told. 

“Funny, right?” they said, leaning back confidently, their voice loud enough to make a few heads turn.

“Mhm,” you nodded, plastering on your best smile, the kind you’d practiced for uncomfortable situations just like this. “So funny.” 

The date was dragging on, each minute feeling like an hour, and you kept glancing at the exit, hoping for some way to end it without seeming rude. You were running out of excuses when finally, you heard a familiar, steady voice that filled you with instant relief.

“Y/N! Baby!” Derek’s voice boomed from behind you, his face contorted into a fake, but convincingly angry, expression as he made his way over to your table. “It’s time to go,” he said through gritted teeth, playing the role perfectly.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, exaggerating your surprise as you quickly gathered your things, casting a regretful glance at your bewildered date. “Sorry, I have to—um, gotta go, you know how it is.”

“Now,” Derek growled, his eyes flashing dangerously as he reached for your arm with a protective grip. You couldn’t help the grin tugging at your lips as he pulled you away, your heart racing with gratitude at how he always showed up just in time to save you from situations exactly like this.

As soon as the two of you stepped outside, you burst into laughter, the tension from the horrible date evaporating with each breathless chuckle. “What was that?” you cried out in amusement, doubling over as you tried to catch your breath.

Derek grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “I thought it would be funny to make it look like you were cheating on me,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

You laughed again, shaking your head as you nudged him playfully. “Wow, thanks, Derek. That’s just great! I’m sure they think I’m a horrible person now.”

“Better they think that than you being stuck in there any longer,” he teased, shrugging playfully. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to believe they were dating me?” He gave a mock-innocent smile, and you couldn't help but laugh harder, grateful that your night had turned from painfully awkward to genuinely fun—all thanks to your "knight" in his shining sense of humor.

—

After graduation, you packed up and moved to Virginia, seeking a fresh start and the next chapter of your life. It didn’t take long for you to meet Derek Morgan—charismatic, warm, and the kind of person who instantly made you feel like you’d known each other forever. Quickly, you were inseparable, your friendship deepening with every shared joke, every late-night conversation.

When you first met Derek, it wasn’t at a bar, but in the paint aisle of a hardware store. He was standing there, staring at the rows of paint swatches like they might leap off the shelf and attack him, clearly out of his element. You, meanwhile, were lost in your shopping list, trying to mentally organize what you needed. It wasn’t until you absentmindedly turned and bumped into him, sending a few swatches fluttering to the floor, that either of you spoke.

“Oh, sorry!” you said, laughing awkwardly as you bent to pick up the fallen cards. “I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem,” Derek replied with a chuckle, scratching the back of his head. “Though, I think I need all the help I can get. You know anything about paint? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure these swatches are written in a different language.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the paint chips in his hand. Normally, you’d have kept to yourself, but something about his friendly demeanor made it easy to offer help. “Well,” you said, pointing at the colors, “if you’re looking for something neutral but warm, I’d go with this one. It’s versatile, and won’t make the room feel too dark.”

Derek grinned, visibly relieved. “I like the way you think. You might’ve just saved me from turning my place into a disaster.”

That lighthearted, slightly awkward interaction became the start of an unexpected friendship. You didn’t realize it then, but Derek saw more than just someone who could offer advice on paint. He noticed the cautious way you carried yourself, the hesitation in your voice, and the guarded way you held back, even in a simple conversation. It was subtle, but Derek could sense it—that you were someone who had been hurt, someone who was used to keeping people at arm’s length.

It was in that moment, after you helped him, that Derek decided he wasn’t going to let you disappear into the background. He saw someone who needed a friend, even if you didn’t know it yet, and he was determined to be that person for you.

He pushed his way into your world, piece by piece, until you found yourself leaning on him, confiding in him, and letting him be the kind of friend you never thought you'd find again. Derek was determined to be there for you, and in a way you never saw coming, he had become the person who would stand by you, even when you were reluctant to let him in.

Over time, you confided in Derek about your college heartbreak, sharing all the hurt, the confusion, and the sense of betrayal that still lingered. You never mentioned names, though—the pain was still too raw, and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk about it in more detail than necessary. Derek listened, always understanding, never pressing for more than you were ready to share. He knew when to joke to make you laugh and when to sit in silence to let you breathe.

At first, the attraction between you and Derek was undeniable. His charming smile, his confidence—it was easy to get lost in that. One night, curiosity and chemistry got the better of you both, and you found yourselves in a brief, passionate rendezvous. But once the moment passed, you both realized that while there was undeniable physical chemistry, the emotional spark that would take you beyond a fling wasn’t there.

So, you stayed friends—really good friends. And it was a decision that felt right. Derek became your closest companion, someone you trusted deeply, someone who knew all of you without needing to be anything more than your best friend. And from then on, your bond was stronger than any attraction that had once been between you.

Derek had always been eager to introduce you to his team, his “family,” as he called them. But every time he brought it up, you found yourself hesitant, a lingering anxiety wrapping tightly around your chest. The thought of meeting a group of strangers made your pulse quicken, and after what happened with Spencer, you found it hard to let people in—afraid that they’d get close only to walk out when you finally let your guard down.

But Derek was persistent. He’d reassure you that they’d love you, that they were good people, that they’d make you feel right at home. And after months of coaxing, he finally wore you down. So on the night he arranged for everyone to meet at a bar, you arrived early, nerves buzzing through you as you kept fidgeting with your glass of water, the ice clinking noisily. Derek sat beside you, his hand casually draped over the back of your chair, giving you little reassuring nudges and playful teasing to calm you down. 

It wasn’t long before they arrived—Elle, JJ, Hotch, and Penelope. They came in together, the energy between them electric and warm, like a group who had seen each other through everything and then some. You felt the weight of their eyes on you as Derek quickly waved them over, and before you knew it, introductions were happening all at once. 

Elle, with her steady, confident smile. JJ, kind and instantly friendly, making you feel a little more at ease. Hotch was reserved but polite, offering you a nod that felt more comforting than intimidating. And Penelope—bright, enthusiastic, and full of life—immediately pulled you into a hug that you didn’t quite expect but somehow needed.

“Welcome to the team... kinda!” Penelope laughed, pulling back to look you up and down, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

The team was warm, and their humor put you at ease more than you expected. “Derek told me you were gorgeous, but wow!” Penelope said, grinning as she gestured to your outfit. “He did not do you justice! I should've known he’d undersell a masterpiece.”

You blushed, ducking your head, and Derek rolled his eyes playfully. “Oh, come on, Garcia, now you’re just making her nervous,” he said, leaning back in his chair, clearly enjoying the playful teasing.

“Someone has to make up for your terrible intro,” Elle joked, raising her drink in your direction. “He probably didn’t even tell you our names before dragging you here, did he?”

“Well, actually—” you started to defend him, but JJ leaned in with a grin.

“Oh, he probably did,” she said, flashing a knowing smile. “But did he tell you the good stuff? Because Hotch over here is not just any team leader—he’s secretly a rock star at karaoke.”

Hotch looked up from his drink, arching an eyebrow with mock disapproval. “Secretly, JJ?” he said dryly. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who signed us all up for ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’ last time.”

The conversation flowed smoothly, light and airy, with everyone sharing bits of their day and funny anecdotes about past cases. You were finally feeling like you could relax, laughing along with the team and even chiming in here and there. Penelope asked about your work, Hotch teased Derek about his dedication to “fitness,” and JJ leaned in with questions about your interests, trying to make you feel comfortable.

Then Elle, who had been quietly observing, tilted her head with a curious smile. “So, Y/N,” she said, her eyes twinkling with humor, “we heard Derek had to save you from a bad date last week.”

A groan escaped you before you could help it, and Derek let out a bark of laughter beside you. “Oh, man, don’t make her relive that nightmare,” he said, shaking his head.

“No, no, it’s okay,” you said, smiling despite yourself as all eyes turned to you, eager for details. “I mean... yeah, I was on a pretty terrible date. The kind where you just... start praying for a natural disaster to get you out of there.”

Penelope gasped, holding a hand to her heart. “Spill! What happened?”

“Okay, okay,” you said, waving your hands, “So I’m sitting there, right? And this person—well, let’s just say they were a little too confident. They started cracking all these jokes that were... I mean, I think they thought they were funny, but they were more like... really weird stand-up comedy? And then, out of nowhere, they start quizzing me on, like, the most random trivia ever.”

JJ snorted into her drink. “Like what?”

“Like, ‘What’s the capital of Paraguay?’” you said, imitating your date’s deep, overly-serious tone. “And when I didn’t know, he looked at me like I just insulted his whole family.”

The whole table burst into laughter, and Derek shook his head, leaning back with a smirk. “See, I told you—you dodged a bullet there, lady.”

“And that’s where Derek came in,” you continued, grinning. “He stormed in, looking like an angry boyfriend ready to throw down, and said ‘Baby, we gotta go—now.’ Scared the poor chap half to death.”

“That’s my Derek,” Elle said, raising her glass in a toast.

You shrugged with a playful smile. “Gotta admit, it was a pretty solid rescue.”

Penelope’s eyes shone as she giggled, “I wish I knew I could call on Derek every time I get stuck on a boring date. You’re lucky you used it!”

“Yeah,” you said, your smile turning genuine as you looked over at Derek, who just winked at you. “I am lucky.”

You felt the anxiety still fluttering inside but found yourself starting to relax in the presence of their welcoming smiles. Maybe Derek was right—maybe this could be the start of something good.

But that thought was ruined the moment Spencer walked into the bar, a wave of panic hit you like a tidal wave, your pulse spiking as you leaned into Derek, whispering frantically, “That’s the guy!”

“What guy?” Derek asked, his brow furrowing in concern as he leaned closer.

“The guy from college! The one who led me on? Smashed and dashed? Broke my heart?”

Derek’s eyes went wide as the realization hit him, and he started to push up his sleeves, his expression shifting from confusion to determination. “Oh shit. Which one? I need to go have a little chat with this asshole.”

“That one!” you pointed discreetly, your voice tight with urgency. “String bean, 10 o’clock.”

Derek’s gaze followed your finger, his mouth opening in disbelief. “Spencer?”

“Wait,” you froze, eyes darting between Derek and Spencer. “How do you know Spencer?”

Derek blinked rapidly, running a hand over his face. “No way. No fucking way.”

“What, Derek, what?” you asked, anxiety gnawing at your insides.

“Derek, what’s going on?” Elle asked, noticing the tension suddenly spiking at the table.

But before either of you could explain, Spencer was already walking toward your group. And without hesitation, Derek shouted across the room, loud enough for the whole bar to hear, “Spencer Reid, you whore!”

The bar fell into stunned silence, every conversation dropping as heads turned toward Derek and then to Spencer, who froze mid-step. The confused, panicked look on Spencer’s face was mirrored by the team around you, all of them staring at Derek as if waiting for some kind of explanation. 

But none of that mattered, because the second Derek’s words hung in the air, you felt like you were going to combust. Your chest tightened, your ears burned, and you needed to escape—now. 

You couldn’t bear the sight of Spencer standing there, eyes wide and confused, especially not when he looked so good—his curls a bit longer, his frame more filled out but still carrying that awkwardly endearing energy you remembered all too well. It only made the hurt twist deeper in your chest, the flood of memories rushing back as if no time had passed at all.

Before anyone could say a word, you bolted out of your seat, practically running toward the exit, your breaths coming in shallow gasps as you pushed through the door, away from the memories, the hurt, and the undeniable pull that Spencer still seemed to have on you.

After Derek’s loud declaration, the team was left bumbling in confusion, their chatter overlapping as they tried to make sense of what had just happened.

“Wait, what did you just say?” JJ asked, her eyes darting between Derek and Spencer, trying to catch up. 

“Did you just call Reid a whore?” Elle added, her voice rising with disbelief.

Hotch's expression hardened with concern and confusion, his eyes narrowing at Derek. “Care to explain what’s going on here?”

Meanwhile, Penelope’s gaze darted frantically between you, Derek, and the stunned Spencer, her mouth hanging open as if trying to piece together a puzzle with half the pieces missing. “Okay, someone fill me in, because this is getting juicy—”

Through it all, Derek’s eyes were locked on Spencer like a hawk eyeing its prey, shoulders squared, jaw tight, and very ready to pounce. Spencer was still standing frozen in place, his expression an awkward mix of shock, confusion, and now—seeing Derek’s glare—genuine fear. He didn’t know whether to step forward, run, or explain himself. It was as if the whole bar had gone silent, the weight of everyone's eyes pressing down on him like a spotlight he couldn’t escape.

“Pretty boy,” Derek said, his voice low and almost menacing as he kept his eyes locked on Spencer. The tension between them was palpable, the friendly atmosphere of moments ago evaporating into something heavy and dangerous. “Over here. Now.”

Spencer swallowed hard, glancing around the bar as if trying to find an escape route, but there was none—just the team’s bewildered faces and Derek’s unwavering stare. Slowly, hesitantly, he started walking toward the table, his eyes darting nervously between the team and Derek, clearly aware that whatever was going on was about to explode. 

The whole team was silent, eyes wide as they watched the confrontation unfold, utterly confused but drawn in, unable to look away.

“What’s going on, Derek?” Spencer’s voice came out weak, barely holding it together as he stood awkwardly in front of the table, hands fidgeting at his sides. He glanced nervously at Derek’s clenched jaw, clearly realizing this wasn’t just some joke he wasn’t in on.

Derek huffed, his eyes narrowing further as he stood up to step closer to Spencer, his presence towering over him. “Y/N Y/L,” he said, the name coming out like a loaded accusation. “Ring a bell?”

The color drained from Spencer’s face, his expression shifting from confusion to sheer panic. Of course, he knew that name. He knew it well—he’d never forgotten. You never gave him your full name, but that hadn’t stopped him from wanting to know everything about you after that night. And so, in a moment of curiosity, guilt, and longing, he’d used his professor access to look you up in the university directory, hoping to learn more, hoping to... maybe reach out. But he'd never followed through, instead burying that memory deep, where he thought it would stay forever.

Now, that past had clawed its way to the surface. Spencer gulped, eyes wide, his voice coming out as a barely audible mumble. “Um... why?”

The whole team’s heads bobbed back and forth between the two men like they were watching a tennis match, confusion written all over their faces. JJ’s brow furrowed in disbelief, Elle leaned forward as if ready to pounce on whatever truth was about to spill out, and Penelope’s eyes sparkled with intrigue, biting back a question to let the moment unfold.

“Because she was just sitting here,” Derek said, his voice darkening with barely contained anger, “and when you walked in, she ran out.”

The weight of his words dropped like a bomb, and the team’s eyes widened in sudden understanding. It took a moment for the pieces to fall into place, but when they did, the tension in the air became almost suffocating.

“Wait...” Elle gasped, covering her mouth with her hand as the realization hit her. “Is that what Y/N was whispering about?”

JJ's eyes darted to Spencer, shock and disappointment painted across her face. “Oh my god, Spencer!” she exclaimed, her voice rising above the din of the bar. “What did you do?”

Spencer's head hung low, his face pale as all eyes landed on him, his teammates' judgment clear in their expressions. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out—he was caught between the truth, the shame, and the past he’d tried so hard to forget.

The tall man let out a long breath and sat down heavily at the table, facing the expectant and confused gazes of his team. He hesitated, struggling to find the right words, the truth weighed down by layers of regret and fear. But there was no hiding from this now, and he knew he had to explain.

“I... I didn’t really talk about this before, but during my PhD days, I had a bit of a... busy intimate life,” he started, his voice low and wavering. He avoided eye contact, staring at the table like he could find his words hidden in the wood grain. “I was young, and it was my first time experiencing freedom like that. There were a lot of... flings, one-time things. A lot of people came and went.”

The team remained silent, eyes fixed on him, soaking in every word. Hotch sat back with his arms crossed, his face unreadable, while JJ and Penelope exchanged a shocked glance. Elle leaned in, not wanting to miss a single detail.

“And then I met Y/N,” Spencer continued, a small, wistful smile ghosting over his lips at the memory. “We started out just... bumping into each other, especially in the library. Thursdays became our thing, and before I knew it, we were friends—real friends. And I... I fell for her, hard.”

Derek’s jaw tightened as Spencer spoke, clearly trying to hold his tongue. But he stayed silent, trying to remain calm and listen, though his knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the table.

“One night, before the summer break, we hung out and... well, things got intimate,” Spencer confessed, his voice trailing off as if he could still remember every detail of that night. “But then, afterward, I... panicked. I’d been left before by people who only wanted one thing, and I was so sure Y/N would do the same. So I left before she could leave me. I thought I was protecting myself.”

The silence that followed was heavy, the team processing everything they’d just heard. Penelope’s mouth hung open in disbelief, and JJ’s face was a mix of understanding and disappointment. Elle just stared, eyes wide as she tried to piece together this new side of Spencer she had never seen before.

Derek leaned back, trying to take deep breaths to stay objective, but it was clear he was struggling to reconcile this side of Spencer with the man he knew—and with your story, the pain you'd carried for so long.

Finally, the silence broke when Elle, still processing everything, blurted out, “I thought you were a virgin.”

The unexpected comment drew a stifled chuckle from Hotch, who quickly tried to cover it with a cough, shaking his head as he glanced away to regain his composure. Spencer shot a look of offense around the table, his cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

“That’s not the point,” Derek said sharply, steering the conversation back to its heart. His tone softened but stayed firm. “You broke her heart, kid.”

Spencer’s expression crumbled with shame, his eyes dropping to his hands fidgeting in his lap. “I... I didn’t know that,” he said quietly, sounding more vulnerable than any of them had ever heard him. “She was... she was here? Tonight?”

Penelope nodded solemnly, her usually bright demeanor clouded with concern. “Yeah, she was sitting right with us,” she said gently. “She ran out. Spencer, she ran right past you.” 

Spencer’s face fell, the weight of what he’d done settling heavily on his shoulders as he replayed the moment in his mind—the stranger rushing past, too fast for him to recognize, too wrapped in his own world to realize the depth of pain he had caused.

—

Flashback

After you fell asleep with your head resting on Spencer’s chest, he stayed awake, propped up on one arm, his other hand idly tracing shapes on your back. The rise and fall of your gentle breaths sent soft puffs of warmth against his skin, and the sound of your slow, even breathing filled the quiet room. Spencer watched you with a tender smile on his face, his heart swelling with every peaceful sigh you let out.

For that moment, everything was perfect—the warmth of your body against his, the soft glow of the moonlight through the window, and the quiet intimacy of sharing a bed after everything that had happened between you. He couldn't help but let his thoughts wander, to imagine waking up like this every morning, to imagine the rest of his life with you beside him, sharing sleepy smiles and whispered secrets in the quiet of dawn.

And that's when the panic hit.

The thought of getting so close to you, of letting his heart fall so fully and completely for you, terrified him. He had spent so long protecting himself, closing off his emotions to keep from being hurt, that the idea of letting you in was too overwhelming. He was sure that, like everyone else, you’d leave, and he didn't think he could handle the pain if it came from you. He felt the fear grip him tight, his pulse quickening as he realized what it meant—that he had to go, now, before he fell any deeper.

As much as it broke his heart, Spencer carefully slipped out from under you, moving inch by inch to keep from waking you. But when he finally pulled away, your face scrunched up in your sleep, and your arm reached out instinctively, searching for the place he had just been. The sight nearly broke him, and for a moment, he almost crawled back into bed, almost let himself stay.

But the fear was stronger. He left, quietly slipping out into the dark, knowing he would never see you again, knowing that the one chance at something real was lost the second he closed that door behind him.

—

As soon as you got home, you collapsed onto your bed, the soft sheets barely registering beneath you as you clung to a pillow, burying your face in it. The tears came fast, heavy sobs shaking your body as the weight of everything you’d been holding in finally poured out. Memories of Spencer rushed back in a flood—the way he’d held you, the tender words he’d whispered in the quiet of the night, and the intimacy you had shared.

You knew, even before it happened, that sleeping with him was a mistake. You’d told yourself as much a thousand times. But the moment he left you, without so much as a word afterward, it felt like that final blow to your heart—confirming everything you feared. The pain of being abandoned, of realizing that maybe you had meant nothing to him after all, tore at you with a fierceness that left you breathless. You hugged the pillow tighter, the softness no comfort to the ache inside.

You cried yourself to sleep that night, every emotion too overwhelming to bear. The embarrassment of bolting from the bar in front of Spencer’s team, the fear of realizing he was now part of your immediate circle, and the deep grief over what could have been. It was too much. The tears had left your eyes swollen and your throat raw, your body exhausted from the turmoil swirling inside you.

When you woke the next morning, groggy and disoriented, the sound of your phone buzzing pulled you from the comfort of sleep. Fumbling for it, you squinted at the screen before bringing it to your ear, your voice thick with sleep. “Hello?” you managed, slurred through the haze of morning grogginess.

“Hey, baby,” Derek’s familiar, warm voice sighed through the line. “I’m at your door with tea. Let me in?”

A disgruntled huff escaped you, not exactly ready to face the day, but you still dragged yourself out of bed. You padded over to the door and opened it, finding Derek standing there with two cups of tea and a look of understanding. Without saying a word, you took the cup he offered, wrapping your hands around the warmth and letting it soothe the ache in your chest as you sipped.

Wordlessly, the two of you made your way to your tiny balcony, the fresh morning air brushing softly against your skin. You both settled into the cozy, cushioned nook—Derek’s arm draped over your shoulder as you leaned into his warmth. The silence stretched between you, comfortable and unpressured. Derek didn’t push you to speak, letting you take your time, knowing you needed the quiet after everything.

For a long while, the soft hum of the city below and the gentle sway of plants on your balcony were the only sounds filling the space. It wasn’t until you’d both nearly finished your tea that Derek finally spoke.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with care, his gaze watching you carefully, ready to listen.

You sighed heavily, your fingers tightening around the warm ceramic of your mug. “I never thought I’d see him again,” you admitted, shaking your head as you tried to process the shock of it all. “What are the odds?”

Derek, ever the one to lighten the mood, snorted softly. “I bet Spencer would know the answer to that,” he quipped, a small grin tugging at his lips.

You turned to glare at him, shooting him a look that clearly said not funny. Derek raised his hands in surrender, his grin faltering. “Sorry. Too soon?”

You nodded, sighing as you leaned back into the cushions. “It’s always too soon with... him,” you said, your voice weighed down by all the unspoken emotions you hadn’t yet unpacked.

Derek shifted beside you, the teasing gone from his expression now as he grew serious again. “He told us what happened, you know?” he said quietly, as if trying not to make it worse but knowing you had to hear it.

Your chest tightened at the thought, embarrassment rising again. “Great,” you muttered, your voice tinged with bitterness. “That’s even more humiliating. The entire team knows now?”

“Yeah,” Derek admitted softly, nodding as he looked at you with sympathy. “But they also know it was him who messed up, not you.”

You stared down into your cup, feeling the sting of tears welling up again, threatening to spill over. The warmth of Derek beside you was a comfort, but it wasn’t enough to lift the heavy burden pressing on your chest. His words, meant to soothe, only left you feeling more confused, more vulnerable.

“What do you mean?” you asked softly, barely above a whisper, your voice shaky with emotion. You didn’t dare look up, afraid that making eye contact would break the fragile barrier keeping the tears at bay.

Derek took a deep breath, shifting slightly as if choosing his words carefully. “At the bar, after you ran out... Spencer sat down with the team, and we... we didn’t know what was going on at first. So we asked.”

You finally looked up at him, your brows furrowing slightly, a mix of anticipation and dread building in your stomach.

“He told us about his time during his PhD,” Derek continued gently, his voice calm, as if he was trying to soften the blow. “Said he... he slept around a lot back then, had a lot of one-night things, you know? And then he met you. Told us how you two became friends, how it wasn’t like the other times.”

Your heart clenched at his words. Hearing it from Derek made it real in a way that felt almost unbearable. You squeezed your mug tighter, the warmth doing nothing to soothe the ache in your chest.

“He said after you two slept together,” Derek went on, “he panicked. Thought you’d leave him, like everyone else had. So he left first.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to keep your tears from spilling, but it was no use. You could feel the sharp sting in your throat, the familiar ache of heartache you thought you’d buried long ago. “He left because he thought I’d leave?” you asked, your voice thick with disbelief and hurt.

Derek nodded, his eyes full of sympathy. “Yeah... He thought he was protecting himself. But, obviously, he regrets it now.”

You didn’t know how to respond. The conflicting emotions—anger, sadness, confusion—swirled inside you, leaving you breathless. Spencer had left because he was afraid of losing you, and in doing so, he broke you. And now, all these years later, you were supposed to find comfort in knowing he regretted it?

“So that’s why he never... reached out?” you whispered, more to yourself than to Derek.

“Yeah,” Derek said softly. “He was scared. Scared that you’d see him like all the others did—someone to use and then leave.”

“Basically, he’s a coward and a moron?” you asked, your voice flat but sharp with anger, needing to hear it said out loud to fully grasp the ridiculousness of it all.

Derek chuckled softly, a wry smile pulling at his lips. “Yup. That sums it up,” he said, rubbing your arm in slow, soothing circles. His voice remained calm, but he could sense the storm brewing inside you. “Do you think you’ll want to see him again?”

“Fuck no,” you snapped without hesitation, the words coming out harsher than you expected, but you didn’t care. “He ruined any chance he had with me. He broke my heart, and all because he was scared?” The bitterness in your voice rose as the anger bubbled to the surface, mixing with the lingering pain. “I hate him.”

Derek’s smile faded into something softer, more sympathetic as he listened to you vent. He could feel the intensity of your emotions, the raw hurt that still lingered beneath the surface. But he didn’t push you further, just stayed close, offering his quiet support.

“I get it,” he said softly. “You’re allowed to be mad, to feel all of it.”

You nodded, though the tears were already blurring your vision again. The anger felt good, cathartic in a way, but it didn’t take away the hurt. Spencer had shattered something inside you, and no explanation, no regret from him could change that.

Derek stayed with you for the rest of the day, determined to lift your spirits and bring some lightness back into the heavy atmosphere that had settled over you. After the emotional morning, he suggested a change of pace—a "no more thinking about him" kind of day.

The two of you moved back inside, and after raiding your fridge, you ended up sprawled out on the couch with a pile of snacks between you. Derek flipped through channels until he landed on an old action movie, something so absurd and over-the-top it was impossible not to laugh at the cheesy explosions and dramatic one-liners.

As the movie played in the background, you both sat there, munching on chips and teasing each other. “If I ever get into a high-speed chase, I’ll make sure to drive into an alley with just enough space for me to barely escape, but the bad guys can’t,” Derek quipped, waving a chip in the air like it was his master plan.

“Obviously,” you laughed, nudging him with your shoulder. “Because clearly, that’s what makes you invincible.”

“Oh, I’m invincible, baby,” Derek grinned, flexing his arm dramatically. “I don’t need an alley to escape the bad guys.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing at his theatrics. “Yeah, yeah. We’ll see how ‘invincible’ you are next time you try to carry all the grocery bags at once and drop the eggs.”

Derek clutched his chest in mock horror. “Low blow, Y/N. You know I was saving us from multiple trips.”

“Sure, sure,” you teased, tossing a chip at him. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mr. Invincible.”

He caught the chip mid-air and popped it into his mouth, smirking as he chewed. “Not everyone can be as perfect as you, baby.”

The day passed in a blur of easy conversation, laughter, and moments of comfortable silence. Derek didn’t push you to talk about anything heavy, and the weight that had sat on your chest all morning began to lift, replaced with the warmth of knowing you had a friend who could make you forget the world for a little while.

By the end of the day, you were curled up under a blanket, feeling lighter than you had in days.

—

“Derek!” Spencer called out, jogging to catch up just as Derek was waiting for the elevator. His breath was a little ragged, his urgency clear. He needed to talk, needed to know.

Derek turned, his eyes scanning Spencer’s face, reading the familiar mix of emotions. He had softened toward Spencer since the initial blow-up, knowing that his friend was hurting too. Spencer had made a mess of things, but he was still one of Derek’s closest friends, and Derek couldn’t ignore his struggle.

“Sup, Reid?” Derek greeted casually, though there was a layer of understanding beneath the light tone.

“Hi, um,” Spencer panted, catching his breath from the jog. “Did you see Y/N again this weekend?”

Derek nodded, his expression softening even further. “Yeah, I did.”

Spencer’s eyes flickered with hope and uncertainty, hesitating before speaking again. He clearly wanted to ask more, but the words seemed caught in his throat. Derek saw the struggle and decided to give him an out.

"Come on, man. Let’s grab a drink," Derek offered, nodding toward the door as the elevator opened. He knew this conversation was going to be heavier than a quick exchange by the elevators.

A little while later, the two of them were sitting side by side at the bar. Their beers sat untouched, the weight of their conversation lingering between them. Spencer had been unusually quiet all night, his usual rambling replaced by a tension that had been hanging over him since he saw you again.

“So,” Spencer began cautiously, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass as if the movement could steady his thoughts. “Uh... how’s Y/N been?”

Derek exhaled, setting his beer down with a quiet thud. He hated being caught in the middle of this, but Spencer’s eyes were so full of uncertainty, so full of regret, that Derek couldn’t ignore the question. He had to be honest. “She’s... doing alright,” Derek said carefully, trying not to reveal too much. “Keeping busy. Working on some new projects.”

Spencer’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, and he nodded slowly. “That’s good,” he muttered, though the slight tremble in his voice betrayed just how much hearing about you affected him. 

“What, uh, what does she do for work?” Spencer asked, his fingers nervously twisting the beer bottle in his hand, his gaze avoiding Derek's for a moment.

Derek sighed, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading but humoring Spencer for now. “She’s an interior designer.”

“Oh, cool,” Spencer muttered, nodding absently, still twirling his beer. There was a beat of silence before he asked, “How did you two meet?”

Derek smiled at the memory, a small chuckle escaping him. “We ran into each other, literally, at a hardware store. I was standing there, staring at paint, and she bumped into me. She ended up helping me pick out a paint color for my walls, and, well, the rest is history.”

“That’s nice,” Spencer said, his voice quieter now, as if he was picturing the scene in his mind. “She, uh, she likes it? The job, I mean?”

“She loves it,” Derek replied with a soft smile, thinking about how passionate you were whenever you talked about your latest project. It was clear how much joy your work brought you, and Derek admired that.

The conversation hovered for a moment, Spencer swirling the beer in his hand, staring into the golden liquid as if it might hold the answers he was looking for. He didn’t dare ask the question that was lingering on the tip of his tongue—Does she ever talk about me?—but Derek could feel it hanging in the air between them, thick with unspoken regret.

Derek leaned back, exhaling softly. He knew Spencer was desperate for some sign, some hope, but he also knew you hadn’t mentioned Spencer much since the first time you told Derek about him, and this most recent run-in. 

But Derek couldn’t lie, and he wasn’t about to give Spencer any false hope. “She doesn’t want to see you, Spencer,” Derek said gently, watching the way Spencer’s expression crumbled, the tiny shred of hope slipping through his fingers. “She’s... still hurt.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the table. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, full of regret and guilt. “I know.”

—

The Humane Society was always a favorite outing for you two, mostly because Derek loved the idea of being surrounded by dogs, and you were more than happy to tag along to play with the animals.

You knelt down by one of the cages, your fingers scratching behind the ears of a little brown puppy with floppy ears and bright eyes. “You are too cute,” you cooed, watching as the puppy wagged its tail excitedly. “How is it that I've managed to leave here every time without adopting?”

Derek was busy with a scrappy terrier, laughing as the dog tugged at his shoelaces. “Because I’m here to remind you that you have plants you’ve barely managed to keep alive.”

“Low blow,” you snickered, standing up to join him. “But I could definitely handle one of these guys. Look at their little faces!”

Derek raised an eyebrow, his smile teasing. “Yeah, you say that now, but when you’re knee-deep in chewed shoes and puppy accidents, you’ll be texting me to dog-sit.”

You grinned, nudging his arm as the two of you continued walking down the row of cages. “I think we both know you’d love it.”

“Okay, maybe,” Derek admitted, glancing down at one of the puppies that had followed you to the edge of its cage. “But only because I’d get to play with them all day.”

“Exactly.” You shot him a grin. The day was filled with laughter and excitement, the two of you in your element—just two friends enjoying the company of animals and each other.

—

Derek was in the bullpen when he felt Spencer approach, that familiar presence hovering like a shadow. He looked up from his paperwork, knowing exactly what was coming.

“Hey,” Spencer said, his voice quieter than usual. “Can I ask... has Y/N said anything?”

Derek leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Reid, man, I’ve told you—she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Spencer���s brow furrowed, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “I just... I don’t understand how I could’ve hurt her this much. I didn’t think...” He trailed off, unsure of how to explain his regret without making excuses.

Derek rubbed a hand over his face, torn between wanting to protect you and wanting Spencer to see the bigger picture. “Look, I get that you didn’t mean to hurt her. But man, you’ve got to understand—she trusted you. And when you left, it wasn’t just about what happened back then. It’s about the fact that you walked away without a word.”

Spencer blinked, absorbing the weight of Derek’s words. “I didn’t know it would be this bad,” he whispered.

Derek shook his head slightly, his voice firm but not unkind. “That’s the problem, Spencer. You never thought about what it’d do to her. She wasn’t just mad. She was heartbroken.”

—

The sun was warm, and the café’s outdoor seating was just breezy enough to make the day feel perfect. You and Derek sat across from each other, laughing over your latest failed online shopping attempts.

“I swear, I ordered a rug, and it looked like it belonged in a dollhouse when it arrived,” you groaned, rolling your eyes dramatically. Derek threw his head back with a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Y/N, at this point, you should just let me handle your shopping. Your luck is terrible,” he teased, sipping his iced coffee.

“Don’t even try, Morgan. I can’t be trusted to order anything online, but I’m a wizard in an actual store.” You wagged a finger at him before diving into your sandwich. “Besides, you love dragging me around for advice.”

“Yeah, okay,” Derek grinned, “but we’re heading to the home goods store after this. No more rugs, though. Promise me.”

You smirked. “No promises. Let’s see where the wind takes us.”

The rest of the day was filled with easy banter as you roamed the aisles of a nearby store, pointing out throw pillows and quirky decor that caught your eye. Derek kept up the playful commentary, pretending to be appalled at your taste, but you could tell he was having just as much fun as you were.

At one point, he held up a neon-green lamp, his face mock-serious. “This. This is the statement piece your living room has been missing.”

“Oh my god, put that down before it blinds me,” you laughed, shoving him playfully as you moved on to the next aisle.

—

Penelope, Hotch, and JJ were deep in conversation when Derek noticed Spencer hovering nearby, clearly wanting to ask something but too nervous to interrupt. Derek already knew what was coming. It had become a pattern—every few days, Spencer would subtly try to ask about you without making it obvious.

As soon as the group dispersed, Spencer sidled up to Derek, eyes darting nervously around the bullpen. “Did Y/N say anything about... that thing you guys did last weekend?”

Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. “We grabbed lunch and went shopping. You want details about the food she ordered, or are you gonna admit what you’re really asking?”

Spencer’s face flushed, his hands twitching at his sides. “I... I just want to know if she’s okay.”

Derek sighed, his expression softening. “She’s okay, Spencer. It was a long time ago. But listen... you need to understand that just because she’s functioning now doesn’t mean she’s not still hurting.” He lowered his voice, giving Spencer a hard look. “If you really want to fix this, you’ve got to stop waiting for her to just be fine and start thinking about what you need to do to make things right.”

Spencer bit his lip, nodding. He opened his mouth as if to say something more, but Derek shook his head. “She’s not ready, man. Don’t push.”

—

As you sat in the car, driving back from the movies with Derek, you stared out the window, feeling peaceful. That is, until he finally broke the silence.

“So,” he said, his tone more serious than usual. “Are we gonna talk about it?”

You blinked, turning to him with a slight frown. “Talk about what?”

Derek glanced over at you, his brow furrowed slightly. “Spencer.”

The mention of his name hit you hard, but you quickly forced a smile, brushing it off. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Come on, Y/N. You’ve been great at pretending you’re fine, but I know you better than that. You’re good, but you’re not that good. I am a profiler, sweetheart.”

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. “I’m fine, Derek. I’ve moved on. I’m happy now.”

Derek didn’t respond right away. He pulled into a parking lot and turned off the engine, giving you a pointed look. “I know you’re happy, and I’m glad. But pretending those feelings don’t exist doesn’t make them go away.”

You bit your lip, staring down at your hands. “What do you want me to say? That it still hurts? That I’m angry? Because I am. I’m all of those things. But it doesn’t change anything. Spencer’s in the past, and I’m not letting him mess up what I’ve got now.”

Derek’s expression softened, his voice gentle as he leaned back. “I’m not saying you have to do anything. I just don’t want you to keep bottling it up.”

You exhaled slowly, the tension slipping out of your body as you met Derek’s gaze. “I’m fine. Really. But... thanks for asking.”

Derek smiled, nodding as he started the car again. “Alright. Just know I’m here, okay?”

You smiled back, feeling grateful for the reminder. “I know.”

“Would you be willing to talk to him? He’s pretty beaten up about the whole thing,” Derek asked cautiously, his eyes flicking over to you with that careful, almost too-soft look. It was the look he reserved for moments when he didn’t want to push you but knew he had to ask anyway.

Your stomach tightened at the mention of Spencer, the name still carrying more weight than you wanted to admit. You kept your gaze out the window, watching the buildings blur by, pretending the question didn’t send a ripple of unease through your chest.

“Derek…” you started, your voice trailing off, unsure of how to respond. The thought of seeing Spencer again, of opening that old wound, felt like more than you could handle.

“I know,” Derek cut in gently, sensing your hesitation. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it was worth it. But I’ve talked to him, Y/N. He’s... not the same guy he was. He messed up, and he knows that.”

You shook your head slightly, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of your seatbelt. “I don’t know if I can, Derek. He left. Without a word. I don’t know what there is to talk about anymore.”

“I get that,” Derek said softly, his voice low and careful. “But maybe there’s some closure in it for you. And for him. You don’t have to forgive him, but maybe hearing him out would help. For both of you.”

You sighed, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Closure. Did you need it? Or was keeping Spencer in the past the only way to really move on?

“I don’t know,” you murmured finally, your voice thick with uncertainty.

Derek didn’t push any further, his silence a testament to how well he understood you. “It’s your call, babe,” he said after a long pause. “But just think about it. No pressure.”

You nodded slowly, your heart conflicted as you continued staring out the window, the unease still swirling inside you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

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[motherofdogs1010]

Guys Not My Age I (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: They say sometimes older men are better when it comes to relationships, but Y/N finds that isn't always the case when she wakes up in bed with a certain younger man after breaking up with a certain Winter Soldier

Warning: 18+ only, age gap relationship, older woman/younger man!, everyone is over 18!, fratboy!Peter Parker, cheater!Bucky, computergenius!reader, hacker!reader, toxicex!Bucky, consensual sex, semi public sex, heavy smut, drinking, swearing, unprotected sex, eventual pregnancy

A/N: Re-write of 'Need to Know'

Series Masterlist

Banner @vase-of-lilies Dividers @firefly-graphics

Her head throbbed and pulsated as she begun to wake up.

The overall shittyness of a hangover taking over her body as the loud, blarming phone alarm rung hard in her ears as she groaned. She buried her face into the pillow as she felt movement coming from next to her, immediate confusion filling her mind as she heard, "Shit, sorry. Forgot that I had the stupid alarm on."

She recognized that voice even with it being laced with grogginess and sleep as she snapped open her eyes, wincing from the daylight that peeked over the curtains.

She was met with an unfamiliar room that looked like the standard college dorm: books and notes in an slight mess on the desk with a laptop hanging by it, posters on the walls and the distinct sound of boys laughing and footsteps coming down the halls.

Turning her head, her eyes widened as the memories of the previous night filled her as she resisted to gulp as she was met with the shirtless image of Peter fiddling with his phone.

The memories of the night before felt like a tidal wave washing over her as she remembered having gone out to drinks with the Avengers team to celebrate their latest takedown of yet another Hydra compound (she handled hacking into the tightly encrypted computers) and she knew Tony had partly also wanted to take her out to get her back out onto the dating scene.

She watched as Peter scratched his head for a moment, seemingly beginning to wake back up as she came to the realization of her naked body under the blanket and the realization of her memories being confirmed as she saw a glimpse of the scratches on Peter's back.

Sitting up as she tugged up the blanket, she wondered how the hell she was suppose to do a walk of shame out of her as Peter said, "anyway, want to get breakfast?"

"What?"

Peter tilted his head a little, "want to get breakfast? I thought since we were getting along so well..."

The ache between her legs from last night a reminder of how well they got along.

It wasn't like she didn't enjoy it or anything, but it was the realization that she had slept with someone nearly ten years younger than her.

"Peter, I'm-"

"I know. You're 30 and I'm 21, I don't care." Peter shrugged and she couldn't help but get distracted by his strong physique. "I told you I don't want a girl my age, I've wanted you."

It made her heart clench at statement.

"All I'm asking for is you take a chance", Peter pleaded, bringing their lips into a soft kiss.

It made her melt.

"Fine. One chance."

Peter grinned.

"But I refuse to be seen by a bunch of frat boys so you better make sure they clear out of here. I'm too old to be dealing with that."

"You're barely 30, no even that old."

Y/N downed the shot of tequila that Tony had passed her, laughing as she felt the burn in her throat and hearing Tony cheering. Say what you want about Tony, but he knew how to party as he had taken them to some nightclub that he bought for shits and giggles.

"Enjoying the burn", Tony teased, Y/N laughed.

"It's the tequila sweats that I hate", she said back.

Standing up from the little VIP booth Tony had rented for them all, Y/N scoped out her surroundings. She saw Nat dragging a bashful Steve to the dance floor, Steve was awkwardly moving around before he finally got the hang of it and began dancing with Nat. Y/N laughed as she watched Steve get down on the dance floor, she spotted Vision (who had his human form on) with Wanda near the bar as Wanda was getting another drink.

"Are you having fun?"

Y/N looked in the direction to see Peter standing there with a grin, Y/N smiled back at him.

"I wondered where you were", Y/N responded, "I always forget your 21."

"My baby face makes it that way", Peter joked.

Y/N had to admit, Peter Parker was a very attractive man, especially right now with his hair gelled back, a white button down that had the sleeves rolled up and dark slacks. Tony said Peter had changed a lot since high school, having managed to join a fraternity in his first year of college; she had only met Peter in the last year so hearing that he was anything but confident before was a little shocking since he walked around like a little mini Tony sometimes.

Peter moved a little closer to her as Tony announced that he was going to join Wanda at the bar.

Sam and Clint were missing, both men having taken some time off to go visit their families, especially for Sam since he wanted to be there for one of his nephew's birthdays.

Although, the person that everyone seemed to ignore that wasn't there was a certain Winter Soldier, but it seemed everyone was on the rocks with the man at the moment. But cheating and immediately bringing around the girl you cheated with will do that, won't it?

Of course that was the second main reason behind Tony bringing nearly all of them out to the club was because of her confiding in Tony about being ready to get back out there. She felt no issue confiding in Tony considering how close of friends they were, she was coming out in his upcoming wedding to Pepper in just a few months time.

"It's a cute baby face", Y/N teased, Peter chuckled.

"I'm glad you're having fun", Peter said, "you deserve it."

Y/N smiled as she tugged up the neckline of her red mini dress, the fabric clinging to her large breasts and hips. It was an off the shoulder dress that she chose just for the occasion with long sleeves and paired with some red bottoms that Nat was letting her borrow.

Y/N watched as Peter looked a bit indecisive as if he was second guessing himself before he blurted out, "Would you like to dance?"

"Don't you think you should be dancing with someone your own age?" she teased before Peter snaked a toned arm around her waist.

"Age is just a number, right?" Peter answered with a wink. "When it comes to two consenting adults, of course."

She wouldn't be an idiot to say she hadn't noticed the younger man's eyes roaming her figure. But she never thought much of it considering she had been in a relationship with Bucky, but that bridge was burned a lot time ago.

She was here to have fun, dance a little, drink... there was no harm in just a dance, right?

"Alright, Spiderboy", Y/N said, "show me what you got."

~

Wanna know what it's like (like) Baby, show me what it's like (like) I don't really got no type (type) I just wanna fuck all night

The sound of Doja Cat singing could be heard even in the women's restroom, the door locked in a rush as Peter pressed her harder into said door. Their tongues dancing across one another as she could taste the alcohol on his tongue, Y/N moaned as Peter slotted his knee between her legs, pressing against her wet cunt and beginning to rock her hips against him.

But Peter pulled his knee away and she whimpered, breaking the kiss for a moment before she felt one of his hands trail under her dress, finding her thong.

"You're soaked", Peter teased, she shuddered as Peter ran a finger down her slit. "I bet I could slid right in."

As if that was his cue, Peter slid a finger into her, Y/N let her head fall into Peter's chest as he slowly began to pump his finger in her.

"Don't tease", she moaned as she brought his face down to hers.

What's your size? (Size) Add, subtract, divide ('vide) Daddy don't throw no curves (curves) Hold up, I'm goin' wide (wide) We could just start at ten (ten) Then we can go to five (five) I don't play with my pen (pen) I mean what I write

She connected their lips again as Peter slid another finger into, fingering her harder now as he began to rub her clit in tight circles. Y/N cried out at the sensations as she rocked her hips in time with Peter's movements.

Peter began to trail kisses down her neck as her eyes rolled back into her head, her mouth falling open as pants escaped her mouth.

"Fuck you're beautiful", Peter said as he quickened his fingers. "Come on, Y/N, cum on me."

Y/N felt like she was in the Twilight Zone right now, but fuck it, she was enjoying it with the way Peter was fingering her. She could feel that tight knot building in her as Peter's fingers reached an area in her that made her nearly tear up in pleasure, his fingers practically massaging it as she began to tug on his hair as her toes began to curl.

"P-Peter", she panted, "gonna...cum..."

She saw Peter grin in satisfaction as her orgasm hit her like a freight train. She felt breathless and fuzzy as Peter fingered her through it before she whimpered at the overstimulation, which Peter pulled his fingers out.

"Still think I should find someone my own age?" Peter teased, she narrowed her eyes as she panted.

Peter slid his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them.

"I always knew you'd taste sweet", Peter said as she reached for his belt buckle.

Peter brought a hand up, squishing her cheeks together and forcing her lips into a pout; he pressed a sloppy kiss to her lips as she successfully managed to get unzip Peter's slacks, slipping her hand inside to begin to tease the younger man in front of her.

"Now, you wanna be a tease?" Peter groaned as he began to move her to one of the many sinks in the bathroom.

I just can't help but be sexual (whoa) Tell me your schedule (yeah) I got a lotta new tricks for you, baby Just sayin' I'm flexible (I will) I do what I can to get you off (I will)

Peter had gotten her on the sink, legs spread and her thong stuffed in one of his pockets as he began to rock into her. Her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she felt Peter hike up her leg on him higher, sending him into deeper territory and brushing up against her G-spot as he began to rub her clit in time with his rocking.

"P-Peter", she slurred, eyes beginning to water from pleasure.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so good", Peter whined as he gripped the sink below her.

His thrusts becoming rougher as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Might just fuck him with my makeup on (I will) Eat it like I need an apron on (yeah, ay) Eat it 'til I need to change my thong (yeah, ay) We could do it to your favorite song (yeah, ay)

Her makeup was ruined, she was sure of it from the amount of kissing, sweat and tears. Y/N shivered as Peter bite down on a part of her neck, making her clench around her even tighter and causing him to let out more groans of pleasure, his hips slapping into her even rougher.

The sound of skin slapping skin rung in bathroom, echoing off the walls as she brought Peter's face back to her own, smashing their lips together as she squealed when her second orgasm hit her, her legs shaking and back arching.

You're exciting, boy, come find me Your eyes told me, "Girl, come ride me" Fuck that feeling both us fighting Could he try me? (Yeah) mmm, most likely

She had pushed Peter onto one of the toilets in the bathroom, his dick red and leaking when she had straddled him before sinking down onto him. Y/N shivered as she felt Peter stretching her out again and she knew she was going to be feeling him the next day as she moaned and threw her head back at the delicious stretch his cock gave her cunt again.

Peter gripped her hips before grabbing her ass and smacking it, she pulled her face towards his, connecting their lips as she begun to rock her hips.

Oh, wait, you a fan of the magic? Poof, pussy like an Alakazam (yeah) I heard from a friend of a friend That that dick was a ten out of ten

She could someone knocking on the door, but she could care less right with Peter buried so deep inside her as his hands that gripped her hips so tightly began to help rock her.

Baby, I need to know, mmm

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🕷️🕸️💻~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sometimes Y/N wondered what Peter had been like before he went to Empire State and joined his fraternity, and in this moment as they sat across from one another at one of the on-campus cafes, she figured maybe this might have been it with how he fidgeted a little.

"Nervous?" she mused, "this was your idea."

"I can't be nervous on a date with a pretty girl?" Peter remarked and she chuckled.

"Not after last night." Peter grinned and ran a hand through his fluffy, chocolate brown hair. "Besides, this isn't a date. This is you trying to convince me why I should go on a date with you."

"Sorry, it's just... I've liked you for awhile, but I didn't say anything because-"

"Because of Bucky?"

Peter looked down sheepishly and Y/N reached over to grasp his hand.

"And then when you two broke up, I didn't think it would be right to tell you because of how everything went down."

"You're doing a lot better than he did", Y/N said. "I appreciate that you waited, Peter. That's really sweet of you."

Peter grinned a boyish grin that Y/N couldn't help, but replicate back at him.

~

She had agreed to a date with Peter.

In the back of her mind, she couldn't help but think of the thoughts that others might have with her being seen with Peter. She examined her face in the mirror, trying to see if she had any wrinkles, age-related blemishes and sighed.

"You look stressed." Slightly startled, Y/N turned around to find Nat standing the doorway of her room with a curious look on her face.

"Just a little."

"Where are you off to? Hot date tonight?" Nat asked with a grin.

"About that", Y/N trailed off, looking at her outfit.

A white, blue-floral printed dress that cinched at the waist and was off the shoulder adorned her body with her keeping her makeup clean and simple, and her face loose and away from her face.

"Who's the lucky person?"

"Peter."

Nat was silent for a moment as Y/N felt the pit of anxiety in her stomach at the thought of her friend's judgement before Nat said, "well damn, didn't think the kid had the balls to make a move."

"What?" Y/N asked as she went to grab a pair of platform sandals.

"Anyone would working sense could tell the kid was eyeing your ass all the time", Nat nonchalantly said with a shrug. "Don't tell you didn't notice?"

"I noticed", Y/N defended, slipping her feet into the shoes. "I just thought it was because he was young."

"I also take it that you were with him when you disappeared from the club?"

Y/N's eyes widened as she looked away before Nat let out a laugh.

"Damn, you have to tell me all the details when you get back", Nat teased. "But I'm glad you're getting back out there again."

"You don't think it's weird? With me being older than Peter?"

"If men in their sixties can date women young enough to be their daughters, why can't you go on a date with a younger guy?" Nat shrugged.

Y/N gave Nat a smile and sucked in a breath.

"So, how do I look?" Y/N asked, posing for a moment.

"Like Parker will most likely fuck the shit out of you."

"Perfect."

Peter texted her not too long after that he had arrived and in an air of her favorite perfume, she met him out in the living room of the compound.

A sense of satisfaction fell over her as she noticed Peter's eyes raking over her body as she took in his appearance. His hair slightly gelled away from his face, a white button down shirt and black slacks framed his body.

They were alone in the living room, a rare event since the space always had at least one person present but apparently not today.

"You look amazing", Peter complimented, stretching out his hand and grasping hers.

He gently pulled her towards him as his eyes hungrily stared into hers.

"Thank you", she said with a small smirk. "I thought you'd enjoy this. Never worn it before."

Lost in their own world, they never noticed a certain figure hanging around the corner, seething as he watched Peter met her lips in a soft kiss.

His metal hand clenching into a fist as he turned away, fuming at the sight before him.

TAGLIST

@theoraekenslover

[mixtapesandwintercoats]

women=scapegoats

Just my opinion.

TRIGGERING WARNING: SA/ SH

When did the word woman become synonymous with scapegoat? As I see the news each day, I realize this is the world we seem to live in. In light of recent events regarding the attempt to destroy the career and livelihood of a fellow actress and woman , I have felt compelled to write this, as I have unfortunately been subject to the same toxic masculinity throughout my life. In my recent career, I’ve brought forward concerns about a male colleague and was deemed “hysterical.” I was told my fears were figments of my imagination. Now, as I’m seeing this pattern pop up more, I realize this is the norm.

I, like a lot of women, had hope in change —especially in the latter part of 2017 when many brave women came forward during the #MeToo movement. There seemed to be an uprising, a new wave of recognition for those who had been abused, degraded, slandered, silenced and it was loud. But it was the kind of noise I can only liken to a firework. It can wake you up out of a sound sleep, it burns so bright and shocks the shit out of you but then, it burns out — just like that. And when the smoke in the sky clears and the ashes and debris are swept away from the sidewalk, behind closed doors —to them— we are still just noisy women.

So we all go about our business until the next wave of injustice comes.

With the #MeToo movement, it felt different. People were annoyed (by people, I mean men and anyone who enables abusers). Annoyed that they might have to change their own dehumanizing behavior. I remember the shift from “yasss!!! Go women!!!! We are woke af!!!! We got your back!!!!” To “god, didn’t these bitches have their moment a few years ago? Get over it”. As if centuries of women being underpaid, undervalued, under-appreciated, raped, harassed, terrified and used for the benefits of dick-wielding heroes would be erased because you commented on your second cousins #MeToo instagram saying “stay strong”.

It was a pat on the head, a consolation prize accompanied by an eye roll as if we were just all constantly complaining that the gas station didn’t sell our preferred brands of tampons.

When a suit was filed against me by a former employer, (the suit was withdrawn), after making a confidential complaint against a coworker for unprofessional behavior, I had the silly and naive impression they would believe me. I am not known as a liar in my field of work, no matter how vocal I may be. Hence, why I’ve been working for 25 years. Instead of being believed and protected, a suit was filed against me for having the audacity to speak up. I was publicly shamed and defamed in the process. A reputation I had cultivated for over 2 decades had now been tainted as I became the crazy, paranoid and to quote directly, “hysterical and wild” woman, who apparently just had it in for men. My previous abuse was also brought up as “unfounded claims”, and I was made to seem like someone who just goes after men, rather than being seen as someone who has been dealing as a professional in this world, since I was a child, standing up for herself. This was after I had taken all of the recommended, reasonable and appropriate measures of reporting confidentially to my union.

The experience left me with a lot of questions, of the professionals in my industry, of the public, and of men.

To the public… I often wonder why are we always so excited to see the takedown of a woman? Why are we always so quick to defend a man after he is accused of bad behavior, but if a woman speaks out… she’s clearly a liar? I’d like to think it’s because we are supremely afraid to believe the truth that these things actually happen. I’d like to believe it’s some form of indoctrinated denial. However, time and time again, I find most people believe the approval of a man is far more significant than the burden of supporting a woman. For men, it is always innocent until proven guilty. For women it is the opposite. “Prove your fear.” “Prove your discomfort.” “Prove your pain.”

This MUST change.

And to men, I first wonder… if you complained about a coworker and you were called a liar… how would you feel? You probably can’t answer this because most likely, statistically, it’s never happened to you. Men are usually believed because so many “bosses” are men.

I will say this to those who have such a difficult time believing that women are truthful: do you know what happens to us if we report anything?

Do you know that most of the time when a woman reports a concern about a man, the burden of proof lies solely on us?

Do you know how it feels to be treated as a second rate citizen solely because we don’t have an appendage we can stick into anything we feel we own the right to?

And yet… you need us. You can’t charge your phone without an outlet right?

And is that all we are? Outlets? Something you can take your anger and vitriol and push that into us and onto us?

It leads us to the impossible double-edged sword we face everyday.

If we don’t speak up, we’re weak and aiding in the problem.

If we do, we are over dramatic, bitchy, bossy, divas.

Do you have a sister? Do you have a daughter? Do you have a mother? I’m sure you do.

And so here we find ourselves again, in a vicious cycle of crucifying another woman for speaking out against a man. Watching as the world splits in two over who is telling the truth, no matter how much evidence is presented. Because how could a woman do anything but lie or exaggerate?

So I ask you this:

How can a man do anything but lie when he is consistently told his deceptions are gospel? Are we forever to hold the burden of being “perfect” to be victims and to be believed?

To change the narrative, we do not need more women to scream. We just need a lot more men to shut up and listen.

-abbie

[iluvloganhowlett]

I HATE YOU PT. 2 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

in which logan runs into you once more and works things out

part 1

warnings: mostly angst, some fluff at the end, happy ending woohoo, mutant!reader

so the x-men timeline is actually fucked so i def altered it a little so ignore that😝 this is placed around x-men (2000) and X2

“y/n?” this was the last person you expected to see when trying to teach a simple class. yet here he was, right in front of your 2 eyes.

you looked as the kids began to rile up, a chorus of “hi mr. howlett!”s erupting from the group.

logan flashed them a small smile before returning his attention back to you.

he begins to step closer to you, but you stop him with a simple glare. “class you work on the takedowns we practiced last class, i need to step out for minute. no powers, okay? we need to work on that.”

once the class had gotten started, you slipped out the door and made your way down the hall to talk privately with logan.

“y/-“ “what the hell are you doing here?”

suddenly it felt like you were back at your apartment years ago; logan and some red thing at your doorstep.

“no, doll. the better question is what are you doing here?”

you pace back and forth, cracking your knuckles anxiously as you try to come up with the words to say.

“i-i’ve worked here for years? since you went missing,” you stated, your words dripping in venom as you looked logan in the eyes with a hateful look.

“logan i thought i made it clear back then that you were the last one i wanted to talk to- for a while.”

logan only shrugged and smirked, still leaning on the hallway wall, “forced proximity?”

you lunge, pressing your arm into his neck with full force, pinning him to the wall. “you’re funny,” you retort with a sarcastic smile.

“i get that a lot.”

your left hand stabs your claws into his abdomen; just like the good old days. “i get that a lot too.”

“god, logan! why the fuck are you here?!”

“i work here, sugar.”

you pull a face, as if that’s no excuse for him to show up here. “cut the bullshit, lo. what- are you stalking me?”

logan scoffs, “well, we both know i would if i wanted to.”

“what the hell?”

he only sighs, “y/n can we just work this out? please? i’m tired of following you around like a lost puppy for years.”

“so you have been following me,” you smirk.

he stutters, “alright- now y’know that’s not what i meant.”

“sure sugar,” you mock, releasing him from under your arm.

logan rolls his eyes, “do you ever drop it or…?”

“do you ever stick around?”

you watched as logan tensed at your words, looking down at the floor, and you immediately regretted it.

“look- i’m sorry for how i acted the last time you tried to come back into my life,” you sighed.

“y/n…”

“it’s just hard thinking everyday, for 9 months, that the person you love the most is dead.”

logan groaned, moving closer to you and taking your arms in his hands, “you don’t think i know that?! do you know how many times in my life that someone has taken the person i love to get through to me? i spent those 9 months wondering if you handled yourself and were still gonna be in that damn apartment when i came back,” his voice broke and you watched his eyes shift from frustrated to almost pleading.

you scoff, “yeah because i can’t handle myself.”

“you don’t know that!”

your lips curled. as much as you wanted to shoot a snarky comment about not knowing that he would come home, you could see it wasn’t a good time.

his grip loosened, “please. please y/n just give me another chance and i will tell you everything. i’ll be honest, and ill tell you where im going before i go, yeah?”

your eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, “ya promise?”

“i promise, doll, i’ll do anything you ask just plea-“

logan was cut off by your lips on his, which he gladly accepted, lifting a hand to your face and one down to your waist.

“y’know,” you began, ghosting just over his lips, “this was probably the only part of you i missed,” you joked.

“shut ya mouth,” and he did just that.

im cringing😮 i hope this is good bc i hate it🥳

taglist!!

@velvrei @spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @zeeader @pink-jello-fish @twinky-wink @malfoys-demigod

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Copyright takedowns are a cautionary tale that few are heeding

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

We're living through one of those moments when millions of people become suddenly and overwhelmingly interested in fair use, one of the subtlest and worst-understood aspects of copyright law. It's not a subject you can master by skimming a Wikipedia article!

I've been talking about fair use with laypeople for more than 20 years. I've met so many people who possess the unshakable, serene confidence of the truly wrong, like the people who think fair use means you can take x words from a book, or y seconds from a song and it will always be fair, while anything more will never be.

Or the people who think that if you violate any of the four factors, your use can't be fair – or the people who think that if you fail all of the four factors, you must be infringing (people, the Supreme Court is calling and they want to tell you about the Betamax!).

You might think that you can never quote a song lyric in a book without infringing copyright, or that you must clear every musical sample. You might be rock solid certain that scraping the web to train an AI is infringing. If you hold those beliefs, you do not understand the "fact intensive" nature of fair use.

But you can learn! It's actually a really cool and interesting and gnarly subject, and it's a favorite of copyright scholars, who have really fascinating disagreements and discussions about the subject. These discussions often key off of the controversies of the moment, but inevitably they implicate earlier fights about everything from the piano roll to 2 Live Crew to antiracist retellings of Gone With the Wind.

One of the most interesting discussions of fair use you can ask for took place in 2019, when the NYU Engelberg Center on Innovation Law & Policy held a symposium called "Proving IP." One of the panels featured dueling musicologists debating the merits of the Blurred Lines case. That case marked a turning point in music copyright, with the Marvin Gaye estate successfully suing Robin Thicke and Pharrell Williams for copying the "vibe" of Gaye's "Got to Give it Up."

Naturally, this discussion featured clips from both songs as the experts – joined by some of America's top copyright scholars – delved into the legal reasoning and future consequences of the case. It would be literally impossible to discuss this case without those clips.

And that's where the problems start: as soon as the symposium was uploaded to Youtube, it was flagged and removed by Content ID, Google's $100,000,000 copyright enforcement system. This initial takedown was fully automated, which is how Content ID works: rightsholders upload audio to claim it, and then Content ID removes other videos where that audio appears (rightsholders can also specify that videos with matching clips be demonetized, or that the ad revenue from those videos be diverted to the rightsholders).

But Content ID has a safety valve: an uploader whose video has been incorrectly flagged can challenge the takedown. The case is then punted to the rightsholder, who has to manually renew or drop their claim. In the case of this symposium, the rightsholder was Universal Music Group, the largest record company in the world. UMG's personnel reviewed the video and did not drop the claim.

99.99% of the time, that's where the story would end, for many reasons. First of all, most people don't understand fair use well enough to contest the judgment of a cosmically vast, unimaginably rich monopolist who wants to censor their video. Just as importantly, though, is that Content ID is a Byzantine system that is nearly as complex as fair use, but it's an entirely private affair, created and adjudicated by another galactic-scale monopolist (Google).

Google's copyright enforcement system is a cod-legal regime with all the downsides of the law, and a few wrinkles of its own (for example, it's a system without lawyers – just corporate experts doing battle with laypeople). And a single mis-step can result in your video being deleted or your account being permanently deleted, along with every video you've ever posted. For people who make their living on audiovisual content, losing your Youtube account is an extinction-level event:

https://www.eff.org/wp/unfiltered-how-youtubes-content-id-discourages-fair-use-and-dictates-what-we-see-online

So for the average Youtuber, Content ID is a kind of Kafka-as-a-Service system that is always avoided and never investigated. But the Engelbert Center isn't your average Youtuber: they boast some of the country's top copyright experts, specializing in exactly the questions Youtube's Content ID is supposed to be adjudicating.

So naturally, they challenged the takedown – only to have UMG double down. This is par for the course with UMG: they are infamous for refusing to consider fair use in takedown requests. Their stance is so unreasonable that a court actually found them guilty of violating the DMCA's provision against fraudulent takedowns:

https://www.eff.org/cases/lenz-v-universal

But the DMCA's takedown system is part of the real law, while Content ID is a fake law, created and overseen by a tech monopolist, not a court. So the fate of the Blurred Lines discussion turned on the Engelberg Center's ability to navigate both the law and the n-dimensional topology of Content ID's takedown flowchart.

It took more than a year, but eventually, Engelberg prevailed.

Until they didn't.

If Content ID was a person, it would be baby, specifically, a baby under 18 months old – that is, before the development of "object permanence." Until our 18th month (or so), we lack the ability to reason about things we can't see – this the period when small babies find peek-a-boo amazing. Object permanence is the ability to understand things that aren't in your immediate field of vision.

Content ID has no object permanence. Despite the fact that the Engelberg Blurred Lines panel was the most involved fair use question the system was ever called upon to parse, it managed to repeatedly forget that it had decided that the panel could stay up. Over and over since that initial determination, Content ID has taken down the video of the panel, forcing Engelberg to go through the whole process again.

But that's just for starters, because Youtube isn't the only place where a copyright enforcement bot is making billions of unsupervised, unaccountable decisions about what audiovisual material you're allowed to access.

Spotify is yet another monopolist, with a justifiable reputation for being extremely hostile to artists' interests, thanks in large part to the role that UMG and the other major record labels played in designing its business rules:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/09/12/streaming-doesnt-pay/#stunt-publishing

Spotify has spent hundreds of millions of dollars trying to capture the podcasting market, in the hopes of converting one of the last truly open digital publishing systems into a product under its control:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/27/enshittification-resistance/#ummauerter-garten-nein

Thankfully, that campaign has failed – but millions of people have (unwisely) ditched their open podcatchers in favor of Spotify's pre-enshittified app, so everyone with a podcast now must target Spotify for distribution if they hope to reach those captive users.

Guess who has a podcast? The Engelberg Center.

Naturally, Engelberg's podcast includes the audio of that Blurred Lines panel, and that audio includes samples from both "Blurred Lines" and "Got To Give It Up."

So – naturally – UMG keeps taking down the podcast.

Spotify has its own answer to Content ID, and incredibly, it's even worse and harder to navigate than Google's pretend legal system. As Engelberg describes in its latest post, UMG and Spotify have colluded to ensure that this now-classic discussion of fair use will never be able to take advantage of fair use itself:

https://www.nyuengelberg.org/news/how-explaining-copyright-broke-the-spotify-copyright-system/

Remember, this is the best case scenario for arguing about fair use with a monopolist like UMG, Google, or Spotify. As Engelberg puts it:

The Engelberg Center had an extraordinarily high level of interest in pursuing this issue, and legal confidence in our position that would have cost an average podcaster tens of thousands of dollars to develop. That cannot be what is required to challenge the removal of a podcast episode.

Automated takedown systems are the tech industry's answer to the "notice-and-takedown" system that was invented to broker a peace between copyright law and the internet, starting with the US's 1998 Digital Millennium Copyright Act. The DMCA implements (and exceeds) a pair of 1996 UN treaties, the WIPO Copyright Treaty and the Performances and Phonograms Treaty, and most countries in the world have some version of notice-and-takedown.

Big corporate rightsholders claim that notice-and-takedown is a gift to the tech sector, one that allows tech companies to get away with copyright infringement. They want a "strict liability" regime, where any platform that allows a user to post something infringing is liable for that infringement, to the tune of $150,000 in statutory damages.

Of course, there's no way for a platform to know a priori whether something a user posts infringes on someone's copyright. There is no registry of everything that is copyrighted, and of course, fair use means that there are lots of ways to legally reproduce someone's work without their permission (or even when they object). Even if every person who ever has trained or ever will train as a copyright lawyer worked 24/7 for just one online platform to evaluate every tweet, video, audio clip and image for copyright infringement, they wouldn't be able to touch even 1% of what gets posted to that platform.

The "compromise" that the entertainment industry wants is automated takedown – a system like Content ID, where rightsholders register their copyrights and platforms block anything that matches the registry. This "filternet" proposal became law in the EU in 2019 with Article 17 of the Digital Single Market Directive:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2018/09/today-europe-lost-internet-now-we-fight-back

This was the most controversial directive in EU history, and – as experts warned at the time – there is no way to implement it without violating the GDPR, Europe's privacy law, so now it's stuck in limbo:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/05/eus-copyright-directive-still-about-filters-eus-top-court-limits-its-use

As critics pointed out during the EU debate, there are so many problems with filternets. For one thing, these copyright filters are very expensive: remember that Google has spent $100m on Content ID alone, and that only does a fraction of what filternet advocates demand. Building the filternet would cost so much that only the biggest tech monopolists could afford it, which is to say, filternets are a legal requirement to keep the tech monopolists in business and prevent smaller, better platforms from ever coming into existence.

Filternets are also incapable of telling the difference between similar files. This is especially problematic for classical musicians, who routinely find their work blocked or demonetized by Sony Music, which claims performances of all the most important classical music compositions:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/05/08/copyfraud/#beethoven-just-wrote-music

Content ID can't tell the difference between your performance of "The Goldberg Variations" and Glenn Gould's. For classical musicians, the best case scenario is to have their online wages stolen by Sony, who fraudulently claim copyright to their recordings. The worst case scenario is that their video is blocked, their channel deleted, and their names blacklisted from ever opening another account on one of the monopoly platforms.

But when it comes to free expression, the role that notice-and-takedown and filternets play in the creative industries is really a sideshow. In creating a system of no-evidence-required takedowns, with no real consequences for fraudulent takedowns, these systems are huge gift to the world's worst criminals. For example, "reputation management" companies help convicted rapists, murderers, and even war criminals purge the internet of true accounts of their crimes by claiming copyright over them:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/23/reputation-laundry/#dark-ops

Remember how during the covid lockdowns, scumbags marketed junk devices by claiming that they'd protect you from the virus? Their products remained online, while the detailed scientific articles warning people about the fraud were speedily removed through false copyright claims:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/18/labor-shortage-discourse-time/#copyfraud

Copyfraud – making false copyright claims – is an extremely safe crime to commit, and it's not just quack covid remedy peddlers and war criminals who avail themselves of it. Tech giants like Adobe do not hesitate to abuse the takedown system, even when that means exposing millions of people to spyware:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/13/theres-an-app-for-that/#gnash

Dirty cops play loud, copyrighted music during confrontations with the public, in the hopes that this will trigger copyright filters on services like Youtube and Instagram and block videos of their misbehavior:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/10/duke-sucks/#bhpd

But even if you solved all these problems with filternets and takedown, this system would still choke on fair use and other copyright exceptions. These are "fact intensive" questions that the world's top experts struggle with (as anyone who watches the Blurred Lines panel can see). There's no way we can get software to accurately determine when a use is or isn't fair.

That's a question that the entertainment industry itself is increasingly conflicted about. The Blurred Lines judgment opened the floodgates to a new kind of copyright troll – grifters who sued the record labels and their biggest stars for taking the "vibe" of songs that no one ever heard of. Musicians like Ed Sheeran have been sued for millions of dollars over these alleged infringements. These suits caused the record industry to (ahem) change its tune on fair use, insisting that fair use should be broadly interpreted to protect people who made things that were similar to existing works. The labels understood that if "vibe rights" became accepted law, they'd end up in the kind of hell that the rest of us enter when we try to post things online – where anything they produce can trigger takedowns, long legal battles, and millions in liability:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/04/08/oh-why/#two-notes-and-running

But the music industry remains deeply conflicted over fair use. Take the curious case of Katy Perry's song "Dark Horse," which attracted a multimillion-dollar suit from an obscure Christian rapper who claimed that a brief phrase in "Dark Horse" was impermissibly similar to his song "A Joyful Noise."

Perry and her publisher, Warner Chappell, lost the suit and were ordered to pay $2.8m. While they subsequently won an appeal, this definitely put the cold grue up Warner Chappell's back. They could see a long future of similar suits launched by treasure hunters hoping for a quick settlement.

But here's where it gets unbelievably weird and darkly funny. A Youtuber named Adam Neely made a wildly successful viral video about the suit, taking Perry's side and defending her song. As part of that video, Neely included a few seconds' worth of "A Joyful Noise," the song that Perry was accused of copying.

In court, Warner Chappell had argued that "A Joyful Noise" was not similar to Perry's "Dark Horse." But when Warner had Google remove Neely's video, they claimed that the sample from "Joyful Noise" was actually taken from "Dark Horse." Incredibly, they maintained this position through multiple appeals through the Content ID system:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/05/warner-chappell-copyfraud/#warnerchappell

In other words, they maintained that the song that they'd told the court was totally dissimilar to their own was so indistinguishable from their own song that they couldn't tell the difference!

Now, this question of vibes, similarity and fair use has only gotten more intense since the takedown of Neely's video. Just this week, the RIAA sued several AI companies, claiming that the songs the AI shits out are infringingly similar to tracks in their catalog:

https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/record-labels-sue-music-generators-suno-and-udio-1235042056/

Even before "Blurred Lines," this was a difficult fair use question to answer, with lots of chewy nuances. Just ask George Harrison:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/My_Sweet_Lord

But as the Engelberg panel's cohort of dueling musicologists and renowned copyright experts proved, this question only gets harder as time goes by. If you listen to that panel (if you can listen to that panel), you'll be hard pressed to come away with any certainty about the questions in this latest lawsuit.

The notice-and-takedown system is what's known as an "intermediary liability" rule. Platforms are "intermediaries" in that they connect end users with each other and with businesses. Ebay and Etsy and Amazon connect buyers and sellers; Facebook and Google and Tiktok connect performers, advertisers and publishers with audiences and so on.

For copyright, notice-and-takedown gives platforms a "safe harbor." A platform doesn't have to remove material after an allegation of infringement, but if they don't, they're jointly liable for any future judgment. In other words, Youtube isn't required to take down the Engelberg Blurred Lines panel, but if UMG sues Engelberg and wins a judgment, Google will also have to pay out.

During the adoption of the 1996 WIPO treaties and the 1998 US DMCA, this safe harbor rule was characterized as a balance between the rights of the public to publish online and the interest of rightsholders whose material might be infringed upon. The idea was that things that were likely to be infringing would be immediately removed once the platform received a notification, but that platforms would ignore spurious or obviously fraudulent takedowns.

That's not how it worked out. Whether it's Sony Music claiming to own your performance of "Fur Elise" or a war criminal claiming authorship over a newspaper story about his crimes, platforms nuke first and ask questions never. Why not? If they ignore a takedown and get it wrong, they suffer dire consequences ($150,000 per claim). But if they take action on a dodgy claim, there are no consequences. Of course they're just going to delete anything they're asked to delete.

This is how platforms always handle liability, and that's a lesson that we really should have internalized by now. After all, the DMCA is the second-most famous intermediary liability system for the internet – the most (in)famous is Section 230 of the Communications Decency Act.

This is a 27-word law that says that platforms are not liable for civil damages arising from their users' speech. Now, this is a US law, and in the US, there aren't many civil damages from speech to begin with. The First Amendment makes it very hard to get a libel judgment, and even when these judgments are secured, damages are typically limited to "actual damages" – generally a low sum. Most of the worst online speech is actually not illegal: hate speech, misinformation and disinformation are all covered by the First Amendment.

Notwithstanding the First Amendment, there are categories of speech that US law criminalizes: actual threats of violence, criminal harassment, and committing certain kinds of legal, medical, election or financial fraud. These are all exempted from Section 230, which only provides immunity for civil suits, not criminal acts.

What Section 230 really protects platforms from is being named to unwinnable nuisance suits by unscrupulous parties who are betting that the platforms would rather remove legal speech that they object to than go to court. A generation of copyfraudsters have proved that this is a very safe bet:

https://www.techdirt.com/2020/06/23/hello-youve-been-referred-here-because-youre-wrong-about-section-230-communications-decency-act/

In other words, if you made a #MeToo accusation, or if you were a gig worker using an online forum to organize a union, or if you were blowing the whistle on your employer's toxic waste leaks, or if you were any other under-resourced person being bullied by a wealthy, powerful person or organization, that organization could shut you up by threatening to sue the platform that hosted your speech. The platform would immediately cave. But those same rich and powerful people would have access to the lawyers and back-channels that would prevent you from doing the same to them – that's why Sony can get your Brahms recital taken down, but you can't turn around and do the same to them.

This is true of every intermediary liability system, and it's been true since the earliest days of the internet, and it keeps getting proven to be true. Six years ago, Trump signed SESTA/FOSTA, a law that allowed platforms to be held civilly liable by survivors of sex trafficking. At the time, advocates claimed that this would only affect "sexual slavery" and would not impact consensual sex-work.

But from the start, and ever since, SESTA/FOSTA has primarily targeted consensual sex-work, to the immediate, lasting, and profound detriment of sex workers:

https://hackinghustling.org/what-is-sesta-fosta/

SESTA/FOSTA killed the "bad date" forums where sex workers circulated the details of violent and unstable clients, killed the online booking sites that allowed sex workers to screen their clients, and killed the payment processors that let sex workers avoid holding unsafe amounts of cash:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/09/fight-overturn-fosta-unconstitutional-internet-censorship-law-continues

SESTA/FOSTA made voluntary sex work more dangerous – and also made life harder for law enforcement efforts to target sex trafficking:

https://hackinghustling.org/erased-the-impact-of-fosta-sesta-2020/

Despite half a decade of SESTA/FOSTA, despite 15 years of filternets, despite a quarter century of notice-and-takedown, people continue to insist that getting rid of safe harbors will punish Big Tech and make life better for everyday internet users.

As of now, it seems likely that Section 230 will be dead by then end of 2025, even if there is nothing in place to replace it:

https://energycommerce.house.gov/posts/bipartisan-energy-and-commerce-leaders-announce-legislative-hearing-on-sunsetting-section-230

This isn't the win that some people think it is. By making platforms responsible for screening the content their users post, we create a system that only the largest tech monopolies can survive, and only then by removing or blocking anything that threatens or displeases the wealthy and powerful.

Filternets are not precision-guided takedown machines; they're indiscriminate cluster-bombs that destroy anything in the vicinity of illegal speech – including (and especially) the best-informed, most informative discussions of how these systems go wrong, and how that blocks the complaints of the powerless, the marginalized, and the abused.

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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/2024/06/27/nuke-first/#ask-questions-never

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