#i am a sucker for glib endings

[stunudo]

Green Thumb

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Spencer Reid x Male Reader              Setting: Season 10

A/N: Trying something new. Send me feedback as gently as possible. xoxo Stu

Your name: submit What is this?

There wasn’t much you wouldn’t do for your grandmother. So when she asked you to help clear the garden before the first frost set in, you promised you would. That was almost a month ago, now home from a long drawn out case with your team at the elite FBI branch, the BAU, you called Nana and confirmed you would be over this weekend to get the job done.

“Yes, Nana. I will bring gloves.” You smiled at her list of reminders.

“Are you going to bring that tall one with you?” Nana’s voice teasing over the blaring Price Is Right in the background.

“Nana, I’m sure Spencer has plans this weekend.” You mumbled into the phone, blushing.

“What was that, dear?”

“He’s probably busy, Nana.”

“That’s too bad. Maybe next time? I love watching you fall over yourself.”

“Nana, you stop it!” You laughed, the horror and amusement battling on your cheeks. “I love you, see you Saturday.”

“Bright and early, Y/N.”

“Yes, Nana.”

“That’s my boy. Bye now.”

You shook your head and tucked your phone back into your pocket. Your grandmother had a knack for picking up on emotions, especially those one tried to hide. Maybe that was genetic, maybe that helped you be such a great profiler. Either way you loved her and she loved to see you happy. Unfortunately, happy was fleeting, when your long time crush was also your co-worker. The renowned scholar, Dr. Spencer Reid.

The BAU team had become a second family to you since you were promoted from the Internal Affairs Branch. That had been an intense two years ago, time where you met and bonded with the families of your teammates. Early your first year when Spencer started secretly dating Maeve, you were the first one to notice the change in his mood. Only because you were always hyper-focused on him. That was a particularly rough time for you, not only was the object of your affections in love with someone else, but all too soon he was devastated by her death.

Watching your love grieve was torture, but you kept quiet, letting him work through the loss alone. You chalked up your feelings to typical gay guy falls for a straight friend, and you became determined to get over him. Then one day, it just happened. Casual conversation while on a case and suddenly you were given the impression that Spencer had had feelings for men in the past. That dangerous spark of hope had reignited.

“Mrs. Y/L/N? Hi sweetie!” Garcia’s chipper voice squealed into the phone. Spencer was surprised to hear Y/N’s grandmother calling Garcia and not Y/N directly.

“Help? Sure, doll, what do you need?” Garcia continued. “Are you sure? I’m pretty sure Morgan would be more than willing to help Y/N with any yard work.”

Garcia put her hand over the mouthpiece of her phone, “Hey Reid, are you busy this weekend? Little old Mrs. Y/L/N is having Y/N do some things around her yard and she was hoping you would come over and help him.”

“Me?” Spencer was speculative, picking at his lunch on the break room table. “Are you sure?”

“Yep, she asked for the tall, pretty one.” Garcia grinned through her giggles.

Now Spencer was really confused, “What time should I be there?” Garcia turned back to the call. “Oh, and should I bring anything along? Like tools.”

Garcia rolled her eyes, “I’m sure you just show up, Reid.”

You had a long day ahead of you, you tossed in your earbuds and got to hauling all the dead branches and vines from your Nana’s vegetable patch first. After about an hour, you realized that Nana had gone back inside. You shrugged it off, she needed more rest than your youthful body did. Then suddenly he appeared, you wiped the sweat from your forehead with your wrist and stood up.

“What are you doing here, Reid?” You asked, slightly out of breathe. He stood there, uncertainly shifting on the grass. His hands were in the pockets of a pair of jeans. Never had you seen him wear jeans, not even on a night out with the team. They hung low on his narrow hips, you forced your eyes back to his twisted lips.

Removing the earbuds, you could finally hear him clearly. “Your grandmother called Garcia and asked that I help out? I’m not really sure what to do, but she seemed pretty insistent that she wanted me to come. And not, you know, Morgan or somebody?”

You laughed at the implications. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry Reid. That’s my wacky Nana, she thinks she is funny. I’m good, man. If you have somewhere you need to be. I totally get it. This really isn’t your thing.”

He glanced around the yard for a bit before answering. “I’m here already, why don’t I just give you a hand?”

You were impressed, Spencer wasn’t one to get dirty. You took in now that he wore a long sleeved tee shirt, faded words along the front, something about “mathlete”. He was adorable in his nerdiness. You gave in, let your Nana win, for now.

“Alright, grab some gloves, these vines are brutal.” And so you began explaining what to pull, what to leave allowing the morning to pass quickly. Spencer was known for his awkwardness, but he seemed to be struggling more than usual. With the unseasonable weather, you removed your sweat drenched shirt before Nana came waddling out beckoning you both inside for lunch.

Spencer had not been so physically exhausted since Morgan tricked he and Garcia into training for physical assessments. No wonder Y/N’s arms were so defined, he spent nearly every free weekend helping his grandmother with one thing or another. Spencer’s long hair clung to his face, walking into the decorative kitchen he paused at the sink to clean up before lunch.

“Y/N, I’ve got some spare shirts in the guest room. Don’t come to my table naked, young man.”

Y/N’s signature grin flashed at the old woman, “Yes, Nana.” And he strolled into the recesses of the old farm house.

“He’s quite handsome, isn’t he?” Mrs. Y/L/N asked Spencer, lingering for an answer.

“Yes, I suppose so. His facial proportions are indicative of the golden ratio.” The older woman’s politely nodding head told Spencer she didn’t understand. He improvised. “How long have you been gardening, Mrs. Y/L/N?” Spencer tried to change the subject from Y/N’s appearance, especially since it had been running through his mind all morning.

“My whole life, I was a toddler snatching tomatoes from my parents’ farm nearly eighty years ago.” She smiled with the nostalgia. “Times change, I’m just lucky that I have been around long enough for people to feel safe being honest about who they are.” Her words were heavy, she eyed Spencer slyly. She sat down plates around the square Formica table.

“Ay, Nana, it smells amazing!” Y/N was back, with a dark flannel button down, it brought out the color of his eyes nicely, Spencer noticed. Mrs. Y/L/N caught the faint blush on the doctor’s defined cheeks. She didn’t hide the smug look throughout the rest of the meal.

“Do you mind giving me a ride home?” Spencer’s voice caught you off guard, he appeared suddenly beside you next to the burn pile. You jumped back, barely catching yourself on Spencer’s arm before falling. His large hand caught your back, breaking your fall entirely. The look of surprise on his face, mirrored on your own. Spencer Reid had caught you, then the moment was over and you both fell. Luckily it was away from the smoldering pile of mulch and branches.

You rolled over, unable to contain the laughter any longer. Spencer looked devastated, it muffled your guffaw instantly. “Hey, are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, I’m fine.” He sat up, resting his forearms on his peaked knees.

“Reid? Those were some pretty slick reflexes.” You tried to be sweet, sensing his insecurity.

“Yeah right, Y/L/N. You, we, still fell.”

You shrugged it off, standing once more. You held out your hand to the brooding genius. His dark eyes were relaxing, he took your offered help. When he stood, he didn’t let go, he looked you square in the eyes and blinked.

Spencer was flustered, the whole scene replaying in his mind as he locked onto Y/N’s bright, caring eyes. His palm was warm to the touch, both men still sweaty from effort. He didn’t know why he held Y/N to him until their lips were crashing together. Y/N’s arms encasing Spencer’s shoulders as he deepened the kiss. The cracking of the fire and the far off birds the only accompaniment to their gasps and heartbeats.

Spencer’s hands cupped Y/N’s face, while Y/N’s hand found Spencer’s long hair. The fingertips gently massaging through the tangles, it was so soothing. Y/N bit Spencer’s lip ever so slightly before pulling back from the kiss.

“I have thought about doing that for so long…” Y/N trailed off, shaking his head. Spencer brought Y/N’s chin up to look in his eyes once more.

“What stopped you?” Spencer asked, always curious.

“Would you like an itemized list?” Y/N grinned, slipping in little pecks between banter. Spencer enjoyed the feeling of Y/N’s forceful kisses, his hands roaming over Spencer’s lean frame.

“Wait, Y/N?” Spencer’s voice caught in his throat. Y/N pulled back, eyes hooded in concern. “How long? Um, how long have you felt this way?” His right thumb gently stroking Y/N’s jaw, while his left hand felt the thumping of his heart through his flannel-clad chest. Spencer was oddly comfortable being the submissive, yet taller kissee.

“Don’t freak out on me, Reid.” Y/N grinned, but his face relaxed into a confession. “Since the second case I worked with the team. Listening to you explain navigational programming fine print… I went to sleep dreaming of your voice.” His words just above a whisper, Spencer remembered the case well. He also remember thinking Y/N was a bit quiet. His face burned with the shame of the unknown, the time lost in his obliviousness.

“Hey now, did I say something wrong?” Y/N’s words were strained.

Spencer, for once didn’t answer, he just kissed Y/N again.

An hour later Spencer and you had arrived at his place, exhausted and filthy from the hours of labor and the slight roll around in the dirt. Nana had sent you home with a plateful of brownies and a know-it-all grin. That woman was amazing, annoying as a Yorkie, but amazing all the same. You had spent enough time with Spencer to know the lay out of his place.

You made yourself comfortable while Spencer showered and changed into his traditional absent-minded professor chic. This time he found a delicate purple button up to go with his navy sweater. His damp hair just starting to curl dry. His eyes sparkled when he saw you, your breath caught in your chest. You were in trouble.

The twenty minute drive to your place was filled with awkward silence, Spencer interjecting facts and then trailing off uncharacteristically mid-sentence. His soap filled the air along the ride, reminding you of his freshly cleaned body. The images burning through your mind as you shifted in your seat to accommodate the unasked for desire building within you.

Spencer carried in the tray of dessert while you fumbled with the keys in the rusted old lock of your loft. By the time you had both taken off your jackets and set Nana’s brownies on the counter,  your lips had reattached to Spencer’s neck. He hummed in pleasure as his fingers scraped up your back. There was something serenely poetic about the moans that Spencer made as your searching hand found his growing arousal.

“Look whose packing,” You tease gently in his ear. “Dr. Spencer Reid, impressive in all arenas.” He kissed you fiercely, his pink lips leaving yours in the dust, trying to keep up with the assault. He nearly clawed off your borrowed shirt, the beading sweat reminding you of your unclean body.

“Spencer, I should, probably, , shower.” You tried convincing him and yourself. Somehow he was backing you into the bathroom, without so much as a flutter of those intoxicating eyelids. His hand held you between the shoulder blades as the other futzed with the bathroom doorknob. You felt yourself melting into him.

This wasn’t like him, Spencer didn’t know what possessed him to overtake the make out session. But the compliments fed his ego in a way he hadn’t felt outside of profiling or academia. Y/N’s bathroom was tiny, barely any standing space between the shower, the sink and the toilet. Reality settled in, Spencer pulled back, leaving Y/N and he heaving for breath.

“The Greeks were the first to utilize showers, though Roman baths are arguably more well known.” Spencer spit out, like usual a relevant, yet unnecessary fact.

“Are you asking to shower with me, Re-Spencer?” Y/N’s eyebrows perched in anticipation.

“Uh, no, unfortunately I don’t think I can manage about in the limited space, you have.” Spencer fumbled for words. “I mean, in the shower, as it is only a stall.” His face burned.

Y/N’s eyes danced in amusement, he leaned in and kissed Spencer gently. His rough palm, caressing the flush of Spencer’s cheek. “We’ll manage just fine.” Spencer’s mind running from the images of Y/N’s nakedness, attempting to stave his thoughts for the duration of the ritual. “Give me ten minutes, make yourself at home.” He grinned, stepping back to close the door in Spencer’s overwhelmed face.

613 seconds later…

Y/N sauntered out of the shower with a waist high towel cinched in his fist, Spencer gulped. In the time apart, he had dissected their entire professional and personal relationship. In the years working together Spencer had been distracted from the obvious affections of this generous man. The idea that Y/N and he were embarking on something much bigger than a weekend fling was apparent in Y/N’s gentle whispers as well as his adoring hands.

The give and take, the intense efforts after the day of labor, baring their devotion to each other. Spencer sighed as Y/N’s head fell on to his chest. The five o’clock shadow barely a tickle on his pale flesh. Spencer peeked down at the shining eyes of his lover and colleague, his face nearly comical with focus.

“Today was… amazing, Y/N.” Spencer confided.

“Yeah, well, Nana always had a way of spoiling me.” Y/N laughed, trailing kisses up to Spencer’s amused mouth.

@gubl-oser @starbucksreid @dontshootmespence @imagicana

[anhed-nia]

I'm haunted by a tweet I saw recently from some angsty Marvel stan that said something to the tune of, "I'm tired of everyone dumping on CGI in movies--like what are sci-fi filmmakers supposed to do, LITERALLY build a rocket ship and fly it into outer space?" I'm glad I don't have the actual tweet on hand to identify the author, because it almost has to have been written by a child or someone with an intellectual impairment who cannot sustain the awareness that filmmakers have been successfully and rather famously synthesizing interstellar imagery since long before computers became a part of the process.

But anyway, I'm thinking of it now because I rewatched David Lynch's DUNE recently, and (full disclosure) I am an absolute nut for that movie in general, but more than anything, I see it as an astounding display of production artistry. The woodwork in Paul's chambers on Caladan is so richly beautiful you can practically smell the place, owing to the lifetime of training called upon by the movie's small army of designers and fabricators. You have to remember that Lynch is a studio artist at heart, someone with a profound respect for materials, and as such DUNE is a towering monument to the dignity of materialism. There isn't a careless stitch in any of the movie's lavish costumes, nor a hint of glib slickness about its architecture or vehicular design; the results are compellingly tactile, and achingly lovely.

Production-wise, DUNE has all the arresting power of the Sistine Chapel--and I'll go on record saying that it's even better than said Renaissance masterpiece, because it escapes from our tyrannical obsession with auteurism. Sure, Lynch is pretty synonymous with the idea of the auteur, but in making a movie, he is entrusting the completed vision to a whole salon of artisans who have, through years of discipline and personal sacrifice, earned that trust. It's convenient that one of DUNE's central symbols is the hand--an image that has been accumulating all sorts of meaning since the time of the first cave paintings--but here, one is reminded of the hand's role as an extension of the will, the mediator between intention and execution, the means by which we establish an authorial relationship to our material context. Few movies are as vividly about craft as DUNE, and as more entertainment becomes purely synthetic, few may ever be again.

I'm not saying that computer intervention has no place in art and entertainment. I am saying that even a less convincing production can charm me with its rugged, earnest organic-ness--I get the sense that someone got their hands dirty, literally, and really tried. There is a legitimate sense of hard-won ability about DUNE, and a decent amount of courage involved in rendering something by hand--something you can't just erase or overwrite. I often worry that the pervasive synthetic-ness of modern media contributes to a general undercurrent of who-really-cares in our daily lives. If everything is all fake anyway, with no perceptible physical risk at hand, then why give anything a second thought? It feels like everyone is a cynic now; it's de rigueur to casually dismiss everything as artificial trickery without even understanding the trick, to try to guess the twist at the end of a movie instead of actually getting involved in the story, and we're all online all the time and nobody is who they say they are, or at least nobody acts the way they do IRL, and nothing is real or permanent, and if you fuck up you can just say it was for the lulz, so it's more important to act like you can't be suckered or catfished by anything, than to be at all vulnerable, even to a work of art. DUNE is a movie that is totally bereft of the armor of irony, which has made it sadly exposed to ridicule, but I think that's also what makes it a superior specimen. Who needs irony when your material expression is so authentically ingenious?

Werner Herzog says this great thing about how he wanted his audience to be able to believe their eyes; that is, by really pulling a boat over a mountain, he shocked people out of their complacent skepticism about everything on the screen being some kind of gag. Of course, he said this years before people started making movies out of the nothingness of code, but it's a worthwhile sentiment to reexamine now. When people dismiss DUNE as being narratively absurd, or when they obsess over Frank Herbert's admittedly icky ideological issues, they're really telling on their own disrespect for craft, training, and labor. It's as if they're dismissing the expertise of tailors and carpenters and all of the people who brought DUNE to its gorgeous material life, as just the business of anonymous servants whose extraordinary efforts are not as important as the dubious pleasure of saying something snarky (and often subtly homophobic) about Sting's striated speedo, which takes up hardly a single beat of the movie--and which, frankly, looks pretty great, for what it needs to be. In short, I think that people who are broadly nasty about DUNE are people for whom "worker" is a dirty word, and who have narrowed the scope of their film appreciation to the brand value of movie stars, and the diaphanous notion of directorial genius. Reverence for handiwork seems to be fast slipping away from the general public, and if there is one great sadness in the increasing dominance of CGI, it is that loss.

[dare-to-dm]

I’m as caught up as I’m ever gonna be with the Assassin’s Creed series, having recently replayed it from the beginning all the way to Odyssey.  It’s definitely got its highs and lows, but overall I really like the series.  Apropos of nothing, I’ve decided to rank all the playable assassins from my least to most favorite (with apologies to the assassins in the side scroller games which I couldn’t get into, and whoever was the protagonist in Unity, because I’m still butthurt about the “It’d be too difficult to animate women” thing and I’m never getting over it).

Jacob Frye - This guy sucks.  He’s basically just a thug who makes the barest of nods to Assassin ideals and usually makes things worse wherever he goes.  Like, running a gang is just a fun game for him. 

Layla Hassan - The assassins in the “present day” don’t get as much character development, and in the case of Layla, it shows.  Her switch from templar to assassin was quick and unconvincing, and as of the ending of Odyssey, she’s an arrogant jerk who clearly isn’t in control of herself.  Obviously her story isn’t done, and it’s likely the next game is setting her up for some kind of redemption arc, so there’s a chance I could like her more in the future. But right now I just don’t find her very likeable.

Alexios - Okay, I’m not gonna lie and pretend like I actually played Odyssey as Alexios.  I played as Kassandra and I am very happy with that decision.  Logically, Alexios would have been a very similar protagonist, but I didn’t find his visual design or voice appealing (at least in comparison to the glory that is Kassandra) so he goes, perhaps unfairly, low on my list. 

You - I’m referring to the several games where instead of playing a named protagonist experiencing a simulation of the past, you’re just a nameless gamer/Abstergo employee/hacker playing in the first person.  On the one hand, this makes for an interesting meta experience.  On the other hand, it means you get zero closure on the character arcs for the protagonists of these games.

Ezio Auditore - To be clear, Ezio is not a bad character.  I didn’t like him at first because I felt his characterization was shallow.  Too glib and flippant for someone who had watched their family be murdered.  But 3 games gave him more than enough development to be interesting and likeable. 

Shay Cormac - Shay is kind of jerk, but he does have strong ideals, which I appreciate in a character.  He’s really tragic, because he could have been an amazing assassin and boon to the brotherhood if they had only given him more of a chance and tried harder to communicate instead of judge.  I found his conversion from assassin to templar interesting and believable.  Can’t forgive him for killing Adewale, though.

Aya of Alexandria - Aya is somewhat cold for my tastes, but she is also an impressive force.  She is as much responsible for the formation of the Hidden Ones as her husband (if not moreso).  Her focus, dedication and leadership made it possible. I wish she got more playtime in Origins.

Altair Ibn La’Ahad - Okay, this guy was an asshole.  But a well written one.  And he had a good redemption arc, which I’m a sucker for.  

Desmond Miles - Some people feel like Desmond’s character is kind of bland, but I kind of like the whole Reluctant Hero thing.  He’s got a great balance of kindness and sarcasm, and when push came to shove, he didn’t choke.

Adewale - All the assassins are badasses, but I feel like Adwele is really badass.  Most of the other assassins come from relative positions of privilege, but this guy was born a slave, and spent his whole life existing under the oppressing shadow of colonialism.  Despite that, he remained kind and true to his ideals, and even had a sense of humor. 

Evie Frye - Evie is one of the most cerebral of the assassins, which I really appreciate.  She wasn’t just driven by a sense of justice, but also a curiosity for the truth.  Also, though it doesn’t get as much screen time as I’d like, I really like the relationship she forms with Henry Green.  Finally, as a sibling overshadowed by a more glib and “charming” but far less responsible younger sibling, I can relate a lot to Evie.

Kassandra - Technically, Kassandra never was an Assassin™, but damn if she didn’t kill a ton of people for a living!  It’s actually hard to place her on this list, as Odyssey had the most roleplaying elements of any of the games, so her “cannon” characterization isn’t firmly set.  But I played her as someone who was kind when she could afford to be, looked out for girls, and carried a major chip on her shoulder.  She was a bit simple minded for my tastes, but certain spoilery plot elements make her really fascinating to me.  Also, DAMN she’s hot.

Bayek of Siwa - I found his unwavering desire to avenge the death of an innocent very compelling.  I also think it’s cool that he’s the one devotedly religious assassins of the series.  And I love that he loves children! 

Edward Kenway - He gets major bonus points for being a pirate, I’m not gonna lie.  I have a thing for pirates.  He’s selfish, arrogant, reckless and generally makes things worse wherever he goes.  So why do I like him and hate Jacob?  I guess it’s because he gets a well written arc that shows him actually feeling for the people he’s hurt and suffering his own tragic losses due to his hubris.  Plus, he’s a pirate.

Aveline de Grandpre - I find the whole “double life” aspect of Aveline’s characterization to be compelling.  You spend much of the game not in Assassin Mode, but rather in the guise of socialite or slave.  Aveline is clever, charming and talented in addition to being a skilled killer.  She’s also genuinely warm, which is refreshing.

Ratonhnhake:ton (Connor) - Connor spends most of the game as a surly teenager, but honestly that’s a big part of why I find him so endearing.  In spite of the many tragic losses he endures and the staggering disillusionment he must feel at the repeated betrayal of supposed allies, he never stops being idealistic.  Plus, you know how it took Ezio until he was gray-haired to learn the importance of community building?  Connor was doing that work at the age of 15 or so. 

[smokeybrand]

Sing With Me

I’m not a fan of Dagashi Kashi. I had picked up the manga long before it gained it’s anime popularity but dropped the series altogether by the time that last episode aired. It didn’t appeal to me outside of the art, which is weird, because i usually enjoy a decent romantic comedy. I’m a sucker for a good romance, just like i am for a tragedy. Opposite sides of a coin, you know? the Kashi narrative did not impress but the characters definitely did. I rather enjoyed Hotaru’s look and her clueless, one track mind about candy. I definitely understood the chemistry she had wit the straight man, Kokonotsu. I could see the potential with Kotoyama’s talent but it hadn’t found it’s strength just yet. After Kashi ended, i was curious what he’d do next. Would it be another romcom? Would it be a shonen battle? How would his storytelling mature?

About a year after the conclusion to Kashi, Kotoyama returned with is follow up work, Yofukashi no Uta. It’s another romantic comedy, slice of life, deal with a vampire spin. Now, if you know me, you know I'm all about the vampir so this, coupled with the art, had me hooked. Song of the Night Walkers, as it’s called by us Yanks, follows the misadventures of a kid named Kou Yamori and his Vampire love interest, Nazuka Nanakusa. The catch i all of this? Kou has no idea what it means to fall in love and that is absolutely necessary for him to become a vampire. Or else. I know this description i just gave is pretty glib and kind of all over the place, but i did that intentionally because this book is an exceptional read. Kotoyama has figured out his niche and this story is far more compelling that Kashi. It’s filled with rich characters, a deep world full of lore, and actual substance. I’m not saying Dagashi Kashi didn’t have it’s strengths, that was a good jaunt, itself, but Yofukasi is superior in every way. You can really see his growth as a creator in this book and i kind of love it.

Yofukashi no Uta was surprise for me because it starts out kind of slow. It takes a few chapters to really get going but, when it does, it’s one of the smoothest rides I've ever experienced in manga form. The strength of this book easily lies with the art but, more than that, the absolute charm of Nazuka goes a long way to keeping you coming back. Her sweet, naivety, is so f*cking endearing, it’s a wonder how Kou hasn’t fallen completely for her just yet. Nazuka is one of the best manga heroines I've come across in manga recently but that strength of character doesn’t just lie with her. Indeed, the supporting cast of this book is one of the best I've ever come across. I’m not trying to get into the entirety of those who are fixtures in Kou’s midnight adventures but they each play a part and each of them lay it very well. I mentioned before that this world is deep and i as very serious about that. There are a ton of contenders for favorite characters in this cast, none of which come across as forced or overbearing. And I'm not even getting into the potential antagonists.

Song of the Night Walkers is one of the best manga currently running and i highly recommend a read. I didn’t mention any of the actual substance in this because i want you to go in fresh and experience all of the glory. This book is so well written and there are so many chapters to just grip you. It’ an absolutely sweet story about two, stupidly awkward people, who just happen to be enveloped in a world of the supernatural. I mean, one of them is a vampire so it’s not, like, an accident they are part of the shadows, you know? In the late chapters, we start getting into a proper conflict, from the outside that will have re ramifications going forward but, that’s not to say there aren’t several issues being positioned from within. In the meantime, it’s all late night dates, endearing tsundere, and first love clumsiness. Definitely check this one out. It’s worth the read and, as a plus, has close to sixty chapters so, unlike a lot of my other selections, is a proper read. This will keep you busy for a few days and you won’t regret any of that time.

[misanthropemom]

Things I have learned about myself/found a name for, since the end of my most recent marriage:

I am bisexual.  But it just easier, our society being as it is, to get involved with men.  My body being built the way it is (my G-spot is my favorite thing about sex), I am a sucker for the cock.  So, bisexual with a preference for dick.

I am aromantic.  EVERY relationship that I have ever had has followed the same pattern:  Sexual attraction first, then, when they want to do it again, enthusiastic coupling.  The appeal has always been regular sex leading to stability.  And then, after a few years, I kind of lose interest.  I get bored.  And all those little irritations get oppressive.  I often lose any shred of respect I once had for them.  My first husband called me an “ice queen”, and  spent a lot of years wondering and hating myself for my frigidity.  Now, I just know that I don’t have any interest in traditional “heart flutter” romance, and when it comes to sex, well, if I’ve been having the same ice cream for years, and it’s the only thing in the fridge, I can take it or leave it.  It’s just not that important to me.

I am genderqueer.  Apparently, there’s enough people that feel the way I do that they made up a word for it!  Or, at least, that’s the one that fits me.  I think all definitions of “gender” are made up social bullshit, and I resent outside forces telling me how to behave or feel.  So, fuck gender, just in general.

And this one is, I think, the most important.  There’s no glib term for it, that I’m aware of.  If you want my opinion, or an answer to a question, for something that’s important, don’t expect to get it in less than a day.  I cannot reply with thought and truthfulness on the spot.  I just can’t.  I cave.  I am hereby declaring that any question or decision that needs to be made, needs a minimum of 24 hours, or more, and will refuse to commit to anything without sufficient time to formulate a reply.   And me replying "Ok." Is NOT agreement or an answer, it is merely me making an "I hear you" noise.

[pretty-rage-machine]

The Young Wolves in Springtime: director’s commentary

Good friend @transversely​ requested I do a commentary on my Blade of the Immortal fic “The Young Wolves in Springtime” a long time ago.  I’m FINALLY around to it!  You can read the original fic here.

Before all the fights. Before years so steeped in blood. Before all that killing, so many people. They were just skinny kids. Magatsu had the muscle, Kagehisa the grace. Magatsu's first night. He felt homesick. Anotsu had watched him with fish-flat eyes all night and barely said a word. Grandpa Anotsu slept the next room over. The thin door was pulled closed, with a little gap left open. Kagehisa still watched with the same deadpan stare, sitting up with his sleeping robe fallen open to show his shoulders. There was little light except for the silver fall of moonshine. Kagehisa's eyes bored flatly into Magatsu. “Well, let's see,” his voice hardly a breath coming in the still air.   “What?” “They think you're good. Let's see.” What a weirdo. Magatsu sat up. He didn't feel like getting pushed around for however long by this kid whose ass he could probably kick with one hand tied behind his back.

Who the fuck makes friends like this? Only Kagehisa, that’s who. Let’s all be honest: he’s kind of a hyper-focused weirdo (I say this with love) even as an adult; as an awkward tween, he would have been far worse. I also imagine that Grandpa Anotsu is so horrendous to live with himself, and so unconcerned about Kagehisa having friends his own age, that Kagehisa’s social skills are bottom-tier no matter how good at fighting he is.

Magatsu, on the other hand, had a relatively normal upbringing. He seems to have cared a lot for his sister, so I presume his family loved both of them. He probably has friends. Now the only person around in his age bracket is Kagehisa, who is a complete freak, but the only peer Magatsu has.

Yikes.

Magatsu pulled his robe open, his right arm out of its sleeve, held it in front of him. He clenched his hand into a fist, curled up his hand to tense. It wasn't bad, he thought – he'd won fights. His growing muscle stood up like a burl from a tree. His skin prickled in the cold of night air. Kagehisa looked right back into his eyes. Did the same with his robe, his sleeve, his hand cocked up the same. The same muscle stood up. He was leaner than Magatsu, built different. The muscle the same, not the same, distributed different. Magatsu had been chopping wood for a good part of his life. He had some of the bulk for it, not all of it yet. But this kid was supposed to be good. Magatsu glared at him. Kagehisa smiled a weird smile. It looked like it kind of had a hard time on his face. Magatsu would bet for sure that he'd never got beat on by the big-kid coalition in town, when his dad took him in to help keep an eye on what they were selling.  “Not bad.” Kagehisa put his arm back and Magatsu did too, glad of it. It felt like he'd had a long life. He wanted to snuggle under the covers and crash into sleep. But Kagehisa watched with a curious face like a cat's. That was why it was so unnerving. “Welcome to the Itto-ryu. You'll get to try.”

Kagehisa is sincerely trying to be friendly here, which I think makes it all the worse/much more awkward/much funnier.

I’m a huge sucker for characters who don’t really understand how to be nice trying very hard to be nice, and kind of missing the mark.

“What the hell,” Magatsu said. This kid was his sempai now. What the hell. “I'm supposed to lead it.” Kagehisa didn't sound too sure at all. “Congratulations. You'll be part of an effort to revolutionize the country.” “What the hell.” No one Magatsu had met talked like that, ever. “We're going to reawaken the true spirit of swordsmanship in Nippon. It's fallen into decadent worship of techniques that are practically speaking useless.” The kid watched him. The words were fervent, the tone went over them sort of by rote. Still, Kagehisa head was tilted, keen and curious. “If they didn't tell you that, why are you here?”

Imagine, if you will, that this is said in a perfect robot voice. You’ll-be-part-of-an-effort-to-revolutionize-the-country-bleep-bloop-I-am-a-human.

“I just really hate samurai.” It came out in a quiet rush. Magatsu didn't know what he expected, but Kagehisa's face went still with thought. “Oh,” the kid said after a moment, without judgment in his tone. “I hate them too.”

They are off to an awkward start, but here’s the first moment of actual connection and having something in common. Kagehisa’s miserable life is sort of a byproduct of the system that makes and breaks samurai, so he doesn’t have quite the direct experience with samurai Magatsu has - Magatsu has lost someone he loved to samurai - but it doesn’t matter so much when the end results are the same.

Scene change!

There wasn't much money around the place, which Magatsu was used to. There were a lot of creepy guys that stayed around and about, which he wasn't. “Allies,” Grandpa Anotsu said, when asked. “Aren't you supposed to be chopping wood, you little brat?” There was no mellowness to his tone nor gentleness to his hands to soften the words.

I think it was probably healthy for Kagehisa to have Magatsu around. I feel like Anotsu probably never knew what it was like to have a warm and loving family who thought of him as if he were a child in need of protection. He was expected to perform like an adult from a very early age. Magatsu can’t change their living situation, but he is like a breath of normalcy who at least gives Kagehisa some hints that all is not well with his home life.

Kagehisa joined Magatsu as acting woodcutter. It was apparently not a chore he'd had before. He was intense, the kind of kid who's chop til his hands bled and then chop a little more. Lucky he already had plenty of calluses. Magatsu got the clear idea without ever being told that Kagehisa didn't spend a lot of time with kids. But they talked, between beating up on each other and the old codger beating up on Kagehisa.

I recall Manji (or maybe Shira?) telling Rin that one way to build practical muscle (which you obviously need for sword work) was by chopping wood, and in general doing hard labor like that. Grandpa Anotsu is apparently a follower of the same philosophy. I imagine Kagehisa and Magatsu do plenty of other drills and exercises, but a lot of their spare time is spent doing backbreaking chores for the cause and FOR THE MUSCLE.

One day they'd just got done splitting wood. It was early fall, and they'd chopped a lot of kindling. Enough Magatsu felt like they were sitting pretty for an entire winter, just like he'd felt when they chopped every other day. “We're selling it, of course,” Kagehisa said when he asked. The ax dropped to the ground. The handle was stained dark from the oils of their hands and Kagehisa's old blood. He'd had calluses but the handle of an ax was different than the handle of a sword. The pressures different. “I figured. Man, it's shit that we get landed with the whole damn job.” “Don't let grandfather hear you saying that.” Kagehisa turned his way with the same smile as usual, glib and dry as a lizard. “Let's let him know we're done.” “Let's not,” Magatsu suggested, on impulse. Then went on with haste when Kagehisa stared at him. “He's had us at this shit all day. He's just gonna give us another job. Let's do something else?” “What stunning diversion would you suggest?” Kagehisa said, by which Magatsu knew he had him. “Let's walk. Hey, let's explore. We can take our swords. We'll tell him we decided to practice together.” “That's hardly a diversion at all. I expected better from you.” “Yeah, well,” Magatsu said, deadpan back, “I'll work with what I've got.”

Another incidence of Magatsu being the breath of normalcy in the situation. By himself, Kagehisa wouldn’t rebel against his grandfather even in this small way. I’m sure he kind of hated Grandpa Anotsu, but he wouldn’t have risked getting beaten up or otherwise abused just to skive off work for a couple hours.

Magatsu puts them both at risk, but he also opens Kagehisa’s eyes to a different way of doing things, also occasionally doing things “just for fun” and not to serve some ultimate purpose.

Again, it’s Magatsu’s ‘normal’ background showing up again. He did plenty of work with his peasant family but also had time to relax, play, and enjoy himself. Kagehisa might not take the lead with such things and its influence might be hard to see, but it’s good for him to have someone so different from his grandfather and his minions.

They got their swords. It wasn't that hard. It wasn't hard to sneak off either, gramps off somewhere, probably ruminating bitterly about all he'd lost and how he could make their lives harder to make up for it or something. Besides his being a good swordsman Magatsu was not impressed with him as a sensei.

Ok I know Kagehisa is a revolutionary who wants to burn the system to the ground BUT I think especially as a kid he would buy into authority and be inclined to follow the rules, and if he broke rules he’d probably try to rules lawyer his way out of trouble. Magatsu, on the other hand, has a healthy distrust of anyone who aspires to be in charge of him. If I were writing a high school au he totally would have been a baby anarchist.

“I've explored everything already,” Kagehisa told him, once they were out of earshot of their little house. “There's not a whole lot around here, anyway. We might as well fight and then go back.” “Dude, I've never been. Don't make me sorry I invited you.” “Sorry to put a damper on your little outing.” Kagehisa shrugged, his sword resting on his shoulder bobbing with the motion. They were climbing up a gentle hill now, precursor to a larger mountain. Magatsu didn't feel like a hike, so he led them left and Kagehisa at least didn't complain about that part, just went on: “There's nothing exciting or dangerous to do. Tell me, do you even like being a swordsman?” “I like it but this training is shitty. No bandits or dogs or anything?” “Well, there were dogs.” Kagehisa's face still like the surface of a morning pond. “But not anymore.”

/IMPLIED MAKIE

I really love fics that are not just… about a duo. I like fics where characters have more than their ship partner or just one friend, even if it’s just implied. Makie does not appear in this story, but she’s very much on Kagehisa’s mind, just as she will be 10 years later.

Also again, Magatsu, the earnest anarchist, who just wants to explore and maybe chill a little and possibly have a normal friend moment or two with his weird lizard of a peer. Magatsu tries so hard.

Kagehisa and Magatsu aren’t naturally friends in this fic. If they weren’t sorta forced together by circumstance, they probably wouldn’t have become close. As it is, they don’t really have a choice.

It could have been a pretty walk. What leaves were left colored in red and yellow, branches scratched like ink strokes against the blue sky. The chill in the air even enlivened his skin like the scrape of a blade but Magatsu felt more aware of a hard winter to come and shivered with premonition. Besides that he kept an eye on Kagehisa. A furtive one. The kid walked with this weird look of still remove. He was always coming across glazed over, or several hundred ri away; a little slow sometimes, maybe. Except with a sword, where he was guaranteed on the ball. “I guess you know around here, huh?” Magatsu said it out a weird impulse to break the silence. “When did the dogs get lost?” “You talk so much,” Kagehisa said. Then, at a glimpse of Magatsu's offended place. “Not like that. Calm yourself.” “I do not,” Magatsu said, and sealed his lips up in preparation to maintain a manly silence for the rest of their jaunt. Kagehisa sighed. “Be an adult. If you have a question, why don't you ask it?” “I am an adult, and you are a real asshole.”

THEY’RE TWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENS

I’m still proud of this little exchange at the end, and Magatsu’s determination to keep his ‘manly silence.’ I imagine before his sister died, he was a sweet, chatty, affectionate kid; I can’t see him as a comedian type (he’d love to do silly things but get flustered when people actually laughed. I have had students like this and I know the type) but he probably would have been quite open and pure in a way.

Unfortunately, circumstances nipped a lot of that inherent sweetness in the bud. It’s similar to what happened to Rin, who had to become a harder, more calculating person over the course of the series, just so she’d survive. Still, Magatsu has empathy for others, some sweetness, and an inherent interest in people, and it peeks out now and again, even when the audience is Kagehisa.

“Speaking as an adult,” Kagehisa said with a smirk, “A kindly demeanor doesn't get you far in the real world.” “Shut up.” “Why are you angry?” Kagehisa's tone tended steadily more clipped. “When you're fighting seriously a temper is a liability.” Magatsu knew that. The assumption that he didn't stung. He uncinched his lips to mutter. “We're not fighting seriously.” “You're taking it seriously.” Kagehisa shrugged and glanced away. Magatsu thought he'd get ignored until Kagehisa spoke again. “The dogs got killed years ago.” “Some kinda training rite from the old man?” “Well, he tried.” Magatsu could always recognize now when Kagehisa's smiles weren't real ones. “It didn't go so well.” They walked over hill upon hill. Zigzag branches diced up the sky. Up close, black bark shone rich brown or gleamed with blue highlights in the autumn sun. “It's nearby,” Kagehisa said eventually, “If you want to see the place.” It was a plateau that opened out into a clearing. “The dogs scavenged from town and came here to bed down at night,” Kagehisa said. “But they never found enough. They were always hungry. Sometimes they tried to steal from us. Grandfather finally got tired of it.” “So he helped you fight him.” Already, Magatsu could guess that wasn't how it had gone. “No, he sent me...” There was one tree in the middle of the clearing. Kagehisa went to it and touched it. The touch of an old man, Magatsu thought, or someone blind, reaching to understand... “There was a girl,” Kagehisa said. “Oh.” “Not like that, would you stop,” but Kagehisa's smile lost some of its lines of unfortunate strain there.

Tbh it’s a travesty we never saw Makie and Magatsu interact more in the series itself. I like to imagine they’re friends; they’re very different people, but have a lot of interests in common. I think they’d have compassion for each other. Someday maybe I’ll try and write a friendship fic with them.

Also, Kagehisa and Anotsu are definitely at the age where they’d notice girls, if there were girls around to notice.

A moment came. A precipice. Teetered on, and then fallen past. Two old men fought and then only one of them had his blood decorating the ground. That was how it was, that was how it had to be. Magatsu went to help Abayama. It seemed to have taken it out of the guy, killing Grandpa Anotsu. Magatsu helped him sit. Abayama didn't let go of his sword. Anotsu was still looking at the wreckage of his grandfather with his back to them both. His black ponytail fell limply over his tightly squared shoulders. Magatsu wondered if Abayama would have to kill him next.  Kagehisa turned and his face was wet, white and staring. Tight and confused, horrible with its tears. He stared at both Magatsu and Abayama as if surprised to find them there looking back at him. “I hated him,” Kagehisa said. “Take it easy, now,” Abayama said. “Family's family.” Men got crazy over less, Magatsu thought. Kagehisa stepped towards them. His eyes were still raw and staring, never having quite let out their tears. That was the moment that turned them both out into a new life.

Abayama definitely gave Kagehisa a hug after this scene change, Magatsu probably did too even though he was super embarrassed.

This series is haunted by Grandpa Anotsu’s ghost. He’s the one who was thrown out of the Asano dojo, and in a big way he’s responsible for setting Anotsu on his path. And he was a horrendously abusive guardian. Kagehisa is justified in hating him.

From that day they came a long way. It seemed like they were charmed with an easy work, or it was pleasant, as smooth as anyone could have wished. School after school, budding kenshi who’d never have blossomed anyway stamped out, the potentates gathered up. It became a blood-steeped story with more exposed entrails in it than Magatsu really thought there would be. The dead never went away. Not the new crowd, not his old tail. His sister was always at his heels, the flutter of her pink robes grabbing his eye from time to time. He could go a while without thinking of her and then circle back around and contemplate her existence for hours. Back around to her and Kagehisa and O-ren. Winter nights with their horrendous bite, summer nights slowing the world to a trickle, lulled in deep heat. Or the bitch-slap wind of spring. It came to a spring night with a nervous feel to it like a young horse taming to the saddle. A night at another brothel, one more upon an immeasurable number of flophouses and cheap inns. And nicer places. But the one night in particular: a brothel with a muddy yard, with a budding plum tree at the corner. A little sake for both of them. Half a bowl each. Magatsu had seen Kagehisa imbibe but they were past things like that. At least now was not the opportune moment for an alcoholic blowout. He who holds earth can conquer heaven but he who is too drunk to stand can’t even aim his dick to piss right. Magatsu would hesitate to say life was good, but it wasn’t horrible. And Kagehisa was filled with nervous, fever-bright energy.

I wish we’d learned Magatsu’s sister’s name in canon.

I like the imagery in these first paragraphs! Balancing dialogue, action and imagery is still a challenge for me. I can navel gaze with poetic images for paragraph upon paragraph, and it bothers me in my old work, but I don’t think I overdid it here.

Anyway, something that always bothers me in fiction is when characters so easily forget their dead. Magatsu is not perpetually sad about his sister, but I wanted to indicate that he never forgot her either, and always felt a bit haunted by her. He wants justice for her, not something that’s easy to find in the world of BotI.

He’s also not exactly a soft guy, but he is kind of sensitive to the awful things the Itto-ryu is doing.

It was hard to tell with him but they’d known each other for a long time. Kagehisa could always be controlled but his excitement gleamed in his eyes, the movement of his fingers on the ax-handle, his fixed smile. A warm spring night wouldn’t sway him. They drank together squatting in the yard. “Man, would you cool it?” Magatsu asked him finally. “You’re wigging me out.” “You talk so much.” “Yeah, well, try it sometime, maybe you’d scare off fewer women.” That made Kagehisa laugh. He could’ve pounded his hand bloody on a pulpit somewhere if he’d been raised to talk. Magatsu knew that much. Kagehisa had just been raised for something else. That was their high-water mark if Magatsu only knew it at the time. Kagehisa gazing up over the wall as the first stars wiped off their faces, Magatsu checking the Turk over, making sure it all fit quick, smooth and easy. They were on a trajectory towards greatness. They had so much to lose but it felt like anything lost would mean nothing. Would only be a move or two away from being won back. It wasn’t the first time Magatsu had heard the name Asano but it was the first time it stuck.

I imagine that Magatsu is one of the few Itto-ryu who’ll ever zing Anotsu, and probably one of the only ones (minus Makie) who could be called Kagehisa’s friend. They were kids together. Magatsu is one of the few people who remembers Kagehisa ever being vulnerable.

“They’re not a remarkable school,” Kagehisa told him, blasé and easy as always. “You know, it’s the one that threw grandfather out. The master has expressed some disrespect towards us now and, well…” His smile ironic: “You could say I’m putting grandfather’s soul to rest at last.” “Don’t go there, man. He was fucked in the head in the first place.” “Take care how you talk about the dead,” Kagehisa said with remarkable mildness, “They always might hear you. The master has a lovely wife and a young daughter, I believe. Almost fourteen. Somewhere thereabouts.” Magatsu thinks about that and then doesn’t. Almost fourteen, not much like his own sister at all. She’d be old enough to be wed by now, even. Maybe. Maybe with a child. “That shit’s not important. If they stand in front of us, roll ‘em over. But don’t do it because of your old man’s old man.” “I’ll do it for the Itto-ryu and the future of the country, not for him.” Kagehisa could do a cool snap withdrawal when it suited him. Like now. Magatsu looked sideways at him and Kagehisa looked back, steady. Family was always family. And, well – it was Magatsu’s ugly story too, there. But not all his. Magatsu likes little girls. In the healthy way, thanks, and he’s got the wherewithal to slice anyone who intimated anything nasty about his liking for them in half. He doesn’t show it much. It doesn’t have much place in the business. Just, he likes little girls, and bigger ones, watching them in the dusty streets, watching them shout at their brothers imperiously. Even the big girls. What his sister could’ve been. “That family must be put down,” Kagehisa says. He has a good capacity for casual cruelty. More than Magatsu’s got, enough like a leader needs. “Dude, kill who you want. I’m not attached.”

Of course this is a prelude to the incident with Rin. I would say the first cracks in Magatsu’s allegiance to the Itto-ryu showed there.

Gramps is dead, but Anotsu is still damaged by him. Honestly I don’t think he ever got over that damage. BotI was not a series that went easy on its characters, and frankly the Anotsu family line was not wrong that there was plenty wrong with the world they were living in. Magatsu is right to be uncomfortable with this though. Even as a kid he was always the more objective one regarding Grandpa Anotsu and his dream. Anotsu is going to do some terrible things in the name of avenging his grandfather and Magatsu can feel it even if he doesn’t know the exact details.

Abayama killed Grandpa when it became necessary but as they say you can’t kill an idea. Anotsu has carried the idea forward himself.

“We could spare the girl, if you like.” Kagehisa watches him. The offer sounds like it’s given without a care. His eyes have got no shine in them sometimes. He’s not paranoid but he’s always watching, and sometimes – Magatsu hasn’t got a hard-on for him. But sometimes it’s a look that’s vulnerable. “It doesn’t matter,” Magatsu returns, keeping the eye contact up, breaking it casually to turn back to the Turk. He would follow Kagehisa anyway. It was still the high-water mark. Before he watched his comrades rape a woman and walked away from it. Still there was no telling the future. What came ahead could be as important as anything that came behind. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Kagehisa says.  If Magatsu knew what was all to come. If Magatsu knew his life, and the tempestuous years ahead. The whole business, when he stopped doing it to mend sandals or work fields he remembered why he hated it, and then remembered again why he didn’t have a taste for the simple life. There was no place for a good man to rest easy.  Thinking like that he’d been on the run for all the part of his life that mattered. On the run, and putting his feet in Kagehisa’s footsteps. As terrible as the things they did were, as awkward and bizarre as Kagehisa was, it was just so familiar to be at his back. Magatsu felt sometimes at parting the squeeze of a bitter, fire-forged affection that would never rest easy between them. It had been more fair than he liked to say it didn’t matter what Kagehisa chose to do to the woman, to the girl. What Kagehisa chose to let others do to those women. Magatsu’d come much too far with him to cut it off easy right there, or not to go on with him for longer. They were brothers-in-arms by now.

I made myself emotional with my own fic, help

Anyway. The feeling at the end should definitely be that it’s maybe not a GOOD thing that these two are as close as they are. I would say Magatsu loves Kagehisa, I don’t make any distinction tbh if it’s friendship or a romantic ship; Kagehisa in all his weirdness and intensity is simply the most important person in Magatsu’s life at this time. And yet, he won’t be able to follow Kagehisa everywhere; he doesn’t always agree with Kagehisa.

The thing about Magatsu that makes him interesting is he basically is… too sensitive to comfortably live in the world of BotI as it is (which is why his ending of happily working in the fields was pretty terrible).

Kagehisa was never WRONG that the system he lived within was massively unjust and kind of broken and in need of huge restructuring. But the things he did to achieve that were absolutely wrong, and terrible. I believe he grew a lot over the course of the series (imagine end-series Anotsu redoing the scene with Rin’s parents; I think he might still have killed her dad, but things with her mom would NOT have gone the same way)... but no matter how much he grew I think he couldn’t do what would have been necessary to “escape” the system.  At least, by the time he wanted to escape the system in that way, so much had happened and so many bridges were burned that it was impossible.

Honestly, as I say that, I’m not even sure what “escaping” the system would have looked like, other than leaving for China, which in the canon’s case was not an escape but a sign of just how broken and defeated Kagehisa was in those moments.

Anyway, I think the fact that Kagehisa had genuine desires to create a better system, but he didn’t think through what worst-case scenario consequences would be for people like Rin. And Magatsu, in the meantime, couldn’t escape what worst-case scenario consequences would be for people like Rin. He was too empathetic to ignore those things, and too sensitive to injustice to be as ruthless as Kagehisa when it came to changing things.

What it meant was that even though Magatsu loved Kagehisa, their friendship would eventually break apart, as it does on and off in canon until the very end where Magatsu doesn’t meet up with Anotsu to go to China. And I think even when they’re not friends, they still love each other; that’s what’s tragic about them. They’ll always be unique people to each other, and irreplaceable. But… the cost of one of them following the other would always be too high.

[prologueispast]

An open letter to the young, immature people I just saw on instagram:

Impact always, always, ALWAYS outweighs intent.

“I didn’t mean anything by it!”

“It was just a joke!”

Those are bullshit excuses.

BULLSHIT.

Nobody gives a single fuck if your intent was not malicious. If you offended someone, you admit you were wrong, you apologise, and you change your behaviour. That is your only option.

I don’t care if you weren’t talking to me, or even about me specifically, if you trivialise my mental illnesses (yes I am one of the lucky suckers who has both depression AND anxiety), I will be offended, I will let you know, and I will expect an apology.

If you are in anyway racially insensitive toward my Indian best friend, intentionally or unintentionally, if she is present or not, I will call you out on it, and I will expect you to apologise and change your behaviour.

its that simple.

So the comments that I just saw on instagram, trying to justify Gigi Hadid’s behaviour on Bella’s instagram story, and Zayn Malik’s consequent twitter blunder, as Gigi not meaning anything by it, and “Zayn gets called a terrorist all the time, the people on twitter were being racist toward him again, so he had to call it out” or whatever the fuck you were saying, I call bullshit.

I believe wholeheartedly that Gigi did not mean to offend anyone. But she did. And rightfully so. Literally all she had to do was acknowledge that she was in the wrong and apologise. End of story.

But she didn’t. Zayn tried to diffuse the situation with humour. But his comment was glib, ineffective, and insensitive to the people whom Gigi had offended in the first place. It wasn’t funny, it was inappropriate, with one tweet he trivialised the legitimate criticism that was being correctly leveled at his girlfriend. People got mad at him for this, again rightfully so, he doubled down in his defense, not only of Gigi, but himself as well. And therefore made the whole situation even worse.

He was trying to defend himself, but frankly what they both did was indefensible. All they needed to do was apologise. Its still all they need to do. And its something they both have yet to do.

I hate the level of vitriol that Zayn gets all the time, some of the things people say about him on social media are disgusting. But it doesn’t negate his and his girlfriend’s ignorance and insensitivity in this regard. Much the same way that Selma Hayek’s experience of racism in Hollywood does not negate or invalidate Jessica Williams experiences of racial discrimination, no matter how much Selma believes it does. Have Zayn and Selma both been racially discriminated against? Yes. Were they both incredibly racially insensitive toward people of different minorities than them? Yes.

Selma is a smart woman, Zayn is a smart man, but in these cases they should have both just shut the hell up and listened to what the people whose feelings they hurt and invalidated were saying.

But because they didn’t, they made things worse.

In the interest of full disclosure: I adore Zayn.

I am under no illusion that the level of hate he has gotten for his actions this past week is in large part due to the fact of deep rooted islamophobia. People find it easy to hate the brown man for being ignorant, while simultaneously forgiving the ignorance of his white former bandmates (not immediately, but certainly much quicker than they forgive Zayn’s).

I want to hear him speak about how being called a terrorist affects him. I want to hear him speak openly about celebrating Eid with his family. But clearly at this moment in time, and possibly due to his anxiety, which he has spoken openly and candidly about, he doesn’t feel comfortable doing so right now.

That is fair.

But him using the hate he receives as a justification for his ignorant girlfriend’s racist joke (his girlfriend who, despite being half palestinian has probably never experienced racism the way he has due her being a carbon copy of her very white mother), is NOT OKAY.

I am not trying to vilify either of them. I love Zayn. I respect Zayn. I support Zayn.

(I will never buy or stream IDWTLF, becasue I despise Taylor Swift, and the disparity between their voices is really jarring, but that’s another story)

I support Gigi in her position as Zayn’s girlfriend. I am otherwise entirely indifferent to her.

I want to be able to protect Zayn from people who are vile to him on the internet all the time. But I can’t do that when he’s wrong.

And this time he’s wrong.

And that’s what he, Gigi, and you, young, impressionable, ignorant people on instagram need to understand.

Impact outweighs intent.

Every single time.