#but idk if the author was going for a divine moment that he was suddenly Good At Fighting when standing in for Achilles

[sharkneto]

I know people raved for The Song of Achilles but I don't get it. It was... Solidly fine. If the whole book could have been like the last 100 pages I'd Get It, but it was mostly Patroclus being the blandest, most passive man alive, passively in love with Achilles while Achilles was The Golden Boy. It wasn't until they got to Troy that Patroclus started to be his own character, and by that point it was too late for me to care all that much about him and their inevitable tragedy. So much potential left on the table, imo

[chaoticowlpost]

Hello nice person behind the screen. You want some prompts huh? Hmmm, what about a professor au where the student trolls Draco and he blames it on Harry without thinking twice idk :>> have a nice dayyyh

“My deepest regrets, but as you don’t have breasts,

I find that you’re actually quite fit.

And your arse in those pants makes me want to dance.

Your brilliance is most evident in your wit.”

And as the note exploded, the sound of his students laughing began flooding his ears. Yet, despite the sudden awareness of his surroundings, he still stared wide-eyed at where the note had exploded on itself, leaving a small pile of petals on his classroom floor.

If his shock at the sudden arrival of the note during his class wasn’t enough, the contents were just... no. Absolutely not.

“Silence,” he snapped, just loud enough to be heard over the loud peals of laughter. His expression was grim, he knew, and the students immediately began to shut up one by one.

Though he was often quite formal, and even strict, in his classes, he knew that his students still felt comfortable enough around him to be able to make jokes and not feel like someone was always breathing down their necks during class.

“Professor-”

“Stay here and read pages 395 to 420 quietly,” he said evenly, trying to control the tone of his voice. “I will be back shortly.”

‘But Professor, I-”

“Mr. Cohen, if you do open your book in the next 10 seconds, I will be deducting house points,” he threatened, still gathering his bearings. Then, without wasting another second, he stormed out of the room, his robe billowing behind him.

He walked down the familiar halls, mind set on his final destination. There was only one other person who despised him just enough to humiliate him in front of all his students. He was an educator, for Merlin’s sake. They both were, and they knew damn well that it was hard to lose the respect of their students.

“Potter!” He snapped once the man in question came into view.

“Malfoy!” Potter responded brightly, as he would considering he probably knew that his note had already been received. If only he knew what was coming for him. “Don’t you have a cla-”

“What in Salazar’s name do you think you’re doing, sending a bloody note like that during class hours,” Draco demanded, getting up in his face.

“What no-”

“‘Do not ‘what note?’ me, Potter,” Draco spat. “I saw it, and all those 5th years saw it.”

“But I never-”

“I will have you fired,” Draco threatened. “I mean, I tolerated you at first because I don’t have the authority to get rid of you, but I will. Salazar help me, I will get rid of you, one way or another.”

“Now, there’s no need to resort to murder, but-”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted, uncaring as to how childlike that might have come out. “There was no need to send that bloody letter either!”

“If you could just-”

“Potter!” Draco said, cutting him off once again. He didn’t need excuses. “Why? Just why do you always make it your goal to be my living hell whenever we’re present in the same room?”

“I really don’t-” Merlin, did he not know when to quit. Hadn’t he realized that Draco wasn’t going to let him have the last laugh.

“I’m reporting you to the Headmistress.” In all honesty, he felt like a child saying that, but that wasn’t the point. He did respect due process, after all. “And if you even try to pull-”

“Malfoy!” Potter said loudly, eyes wide in distress as he finally managed to stop Draco’s rambling. “What letter are you talking about?”

“The heinous, most pathetic attempt of a love poem I’ve seen since that time in second year with Weasley,” Draco spat. “Is that what this is? Your petty revenge for your girlfriend?”

“Of course no-”

“That was so long ago!” Draco said, throwing his arms in the air. “And even you have to admit that it was pretty awfu-”

“Malfoy!” Potter was almost shouting at this point. “Will you stop that?”

“No, Potter,” Draco scoffed. “The real question here is ‘will you stop harassing me?’”

“I didn’t send you any letter!” Potter claimed, looking just as frustrated as Draco felt. 

“Of course you did,” Draco scoffed. Nobody would be so bold, except for the physical embodiment of Gryffindor itself. 

“Okay, but I really didn’t,” Potter said, rolling his eyes. “Now if you could just explain to me what really happened, maybe we could figure it out.”

Draco ignored the last bit of his statement. “You didn’t send it?” he asked instead, feeling his mind go blank.

“Yes, I didn’t send it!” Potter said exasperatedly. “I know you have a class right now, and frankly I hate writing poems.”

“Yes, well, it would explain why the poem was so awful.”

“Except, you know, I didn’t write it,” Potter reiterated for the nth time that day. Frankly, Draco was getting tired of hearing it already.

“Fine, let’s say you didn’t write it-”

“I didn’t!”

“-then who do you think did?” Draco asked, ignoring the interruption. He resisted the urge to grin triumphantly when Potter rolled his eyes before responding.

“Have you maybe, I don’t know, considered that it was a student?” Potter asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Why would a student send me that?” Draco retorted, not seeing where Potter was going with this accusation.

“They’re kids,” he said in response. “They pull pranks all the time. I’ve gotten my fair share as well this year.”

“What?” Draco asked dumbly. He’s never been pranked by a student like that before, that was for sure. Maybe the occasional attempt to see what they could get past him, but never anything so drastic.

“I mean, I know they generally avoid getting on your bad side, but maybe someone decided to be braver this year,” Potter shrugged. “Have you tried asking them if they knew who sent it?”

“Er...” Draco trailed off, suddenly feeling guilty. “No?”

“Then why did you immediately assume that I sent it?” Potter asked, a small frown marring his face. It made Draco feel guiltier. 

“Because,” he said, unsure, looking away. “You’ve been acting weird all year with your compliments and things. When I suddenly get a note about my arse, of all things, why wouldn’t I assume it was you?”

“What?” Potter asked, genuinely confused. Draco resisted the urge to groan, because really, he didn’t want to explain this to him in such plain words.

“I mean, obviously you were trying to embarrass me,” Draco scoffed.

“Malfoy,” Potter said softly, eyes kind after a small moment of realization. It made him want to shrink on the spot. “You think I was just messing with you all year?”

“Of course,” Draco confirmed, still not meeting his eyes. “Why else would you do it?”

“Have you considered that maybe, oh, I don’t know, I like you?”

“What?” Draco’s head suddenly snapped up, his heart threatening to lurch from his throat, because Potter what.

“Yeah,” Potter shrugged awkwardly, giving him a toothy grin. “Generally, you do tend to notice things about people you like. And I like you.”

“Oh,” he said, for the lack of a better response. 

“Yes, oh,” Potter repeated, chuckling a bit. “And I didn’t send you that letter. I wouldn’t try to embarrass you like that.”

“Oh.” He was getting tired of saying that.

And then, unsure, Potter took a step closer towards him, almost completely closing their distance. He cupped his face gently, the warmth of his hands heating Draco’s cheeks.

“Do you think that I could take you out some time?” Potter asked, his breath ghosting Draco’s lips.

“I- yeah,” Draco breathed, feeling the air knocked out of his lungs when Potter smiled gently at him. It was such an affectionate gaze that made Draco want to both drink it in and look away. 

“Thank you,” he said before inching his face forward. Draco was half-expecting him to lean in for a kiss but, instead, Potter had tilted his head to the side, placing a chaste, but sweet, kiss on his cheek.

“I- er, I should get back to class,” Draco said awkwardly, looking down. He knew his face was starting to turn red.

“Right,” Harry chuckled, brushing his hair away from his face. “And maybe you could find who sent that letter while you’re at it.”

“Right,” Draco nodded, feeling rather off-balance. “I’ll... I’ll do that.”

“Professor?” A small, hesitant voice spoke from somewhere behind him in the hallway. Immediately, but with no rush, Harry stepped away from him, letting go of his face.

“Mr. Cohen, I believe I instructed that you finish reading the assigned chapter until I get back,” Draco said, exhaling through his nostrils.

“Yes! But I, uh-”

“Get on with it, Mr. Cohen.”

“Right! I wantedtoapologizeforthenoteisent.”

His words were all strung together, but Draco was still able to catch what he said.

“You what.”

“It was a joke!” the student said defensively, clearly regretful.

“Twenty points from your house,” Draco said, looking up to the sky for some divine intervention. “Now get back to class.”

Quick footsteps sounded through the halls as he ran away.

“Don’t be too hard on them,” Potter said, placing a hand on the lower part of his back. “But I think you ought to head back. They’ll probably gossip about you if you don’t.”

“Us,” Draco corrected absentmindedly. “And they’ll gossip either way.”

“Yes, but they won’t read if they’re gossiping,” Potter pointed out. He, unfortunately, had a point.

“I suppose,” Draco sighed. “Then I think I’ll be heading back now.”

“Of course,” Potter smiled warmly at him. 

“Goodbye,” he said awkwardly unsure of what else to say in that moment. Potter, of course, seemed to sense this, because he smiled before getting back in Draco’s personal space.

“Good luck with the kids.”

“Right, the kids,” Draco repeated, nodding. Potter seemed to find it amusing, however. At least, amusing enough to want to press another kiss on Draco’s cheek.

“And don’t forget our date, Draco.”

Maybe he was slightly pink, even as he re-entered his classroom. The students were clearly exchanging glances, having had the time to gossip with one another, but Draco didn’t care.

He had a date to prepare for.

And, hey, maybe that stupid note wasn’t too bad.————————————————-

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I want you all to know that it killed me to write that verse DFJSHFB Thank you for reading <3

[not-delicious-milk]

unspoken

pairing | fushiguro megumi x itadori yuuji, kugisaki nobara x zenin maki

content | um i think this counts as slow burn maybe, idk instrospection? sort of fluffy and sort of angsty? just two emotionally constipated bois and one (1) really bad wingman. or maybe a great wingman. depends on how you look at it. i think this is funny.

word count | 3.2k

form | oneshot

originally posted | 30 December 2020

author's note | i really wanted to make a joke about sukuna having 2 dicks but unfortunately there was no opportunity to. also i did all that research about heian period courtship and what did it amount to? like 3 sentences

He met Fushiguro's eyes, and balked slightly at their intensity. They always seemed to bore right through him, as if his skin was glass and Fushiguro interested himself more in what lay underneath. Not that there's anything he cares about in there.

"You're not hurt, are you? I did push you kind of hard."

Yuuji shook his head quickly. "No, I'm fine." He tried to set his mouth in a neutral line, like Fushiguro so often did.

Fushiguro nodded curtly, and turned to leave, back to where Ijichi was waiting with the car. Yuuji's fingers twitched.

or

yuuji doesn't know how to talk to fushiguro. sukuna "helps."

Fushiguro sure looks nice today. 

Yuuji sighed and looked away. He really needed to focus on the mission. There was a grade 2 curse somewhere on the premises of this abandoned building, and if he kept staring at Fushiguro, he'd probably get— 

"Look out!" Yuuji was only briefly aware of the curse's presence before he was aware of concrete, a dull throbbing in his side as he realized Fushiguro just saved him — again — and was busy siccing his Divine Dog on the curse that appeared while he was distracted. 

This is embarrassing, he grumbled to himself. 

You've got that right.

Yuuji did his best to tune out Sukuna's voice as he got up and into battle position. Fushiguro seemed to have the situation under control, so he focused on cleaning up the lower-grade curses swarming around them. 

Something flickered at the edge of his perception. This time, he wouldn't be caught off guard — Yuuji launched himself at the curse on the other end of the room, intercepting it before it had the chance to so much as look at Fushiguro.

"I didn't need your help for that one," scoffed Fushiguro as his Divine Dog slunk back into his shadow. "Honestly, I could have done this alone. Don't know why you insisted on coming."

Yuuji bit back a retort. "I need the experience, right?"

He met Fushiguro's eyes, and balked slightly at their intensity. They always seemed to bore right through him, as if his skin was glass and Fushiguro interested himself more in what lay underneath. Not that there's anything he cares about in there. 

"You're not hurt, are you? I did push you kind of hard." 

Yuuji shook his head quickly. "No, I'm fine." He tried to set his mouth in a neutral line, like Fushiguro so often did. 

Fushiguro nodded curtly, and turned to leave, back to where Ijichi was waiting with the car. Yuuji's fingers twitched. 

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

Movie night was usually somewhat less stressful than fighting a curse. Usually. 

The film was something Yuuji was pretty sure Gojo-sensei had found at the very back of the clearance shelf. The DVD store probably paid him to take it off their hands. It wasn't even so bad it was good, it was just bad. 

Kugisaki had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of the opening credits. At first, he'd been a little confused and concerned for her health — it was only 6 pm, after all — but sneaking a peek at her phone screen when it lit up intermittently afforded him all the clues he needed. Kugisaki had been texting Maki-senpai, probably for a while, and probably all night. 

Her phone screen lit up again — they were a few hours into the movie, and surely Maki realized she wasn't going to respond, right? Yuuji strained his eyes and recognized the thumbnail of what could only be described as a cursed image. Is that a floating banana? What the— 

Something stirred in his chest. Jealousy? Why? Because Maki and Kugisaki had only been texting for a couple of weeks, and they already shared inside jokes that made Kugisaki laugh like a hyena in the middle of the night? Because they never needed to ask, to confirm, before sharing something — a word, a bag of chips, a seat, a jacket? Because when Kugisaki looked at Maki, with that vulnerability in her eyes that she always disguised with harsh words and thinly veiled threats of violence, Maki looked back?

Yuuji couldn't stop himself from looking at the other person on the couch with him. Fushiguro looked like he was going to cry of boredom. Or punch someone. Or both. 

Should I switch the movie? I don't think he likes it. 

Well, Gojo-sensei picked it. He would probably be offended.

Yuuji looked around. His teacher was conspicuously absent. No way! He's the one who forced us all to watch this shit, and he just leaves before it's over?

"Hey, um…" The question was past his lips before he could stop himself. "Fushiguro, is there something you'd rather…" Yuuji already knew what his answer was going to be. There were plenty of things Fushiguro would rather be doing, let alone watching. Reading a book, for one. Alone. 

He received only a vague shrug in return. "Do whatever you want."

Yuuji found himself staring blankly at the floor. An oppressive silence blanketed the room, even with the vague sound effects and poorly dubbed dialogue coming from the TV. 

This is torture. Say something already.

I would if I could, okay? Unless you have any better ideas.

That managed to shut Sukuna up, at least for a moment. Good. All that was left was to sit through the last scenes of the movie and go back to his room and scream into his pillow. 

Yuuji could feel his forehead flushing and his eyes starting to burn. Oh, no no no no no. Why is this so awkward? At least Fushiguro can't see anything since all the lights are off. Or maybe he can see in the dark, like a vampire? Come to think of it, he is pretty pale… He's probably not saying anything to be polite. I bet he can see everything. I bet he's reading my mind right now with that stupid look of his. 

"I need to go to the bathroom," Yuuji said, a little louder and a little higher than he intended. Fushiguro only raised an eyebrow at him and went back to watching the screen.

As soon as he was out of the dorm common room, Yuuji sucked in a breath of air. 

"Coward."

This time, the cold voice he was so used to hearing came from the back of his hand. Yuuji didn't have anything to say in response. If he did, it would only be in agreement. How pathetic of him. 

"You're damn right that it's pathetic. It's a miracle you can even stand up straight, given your lack of a spine."

Yuuji was almost at the door to his bedroom. 

"I'll help you, just this once."

He froze. Since when did Sukuna help with anything?

"I don't believe you," he muttered.

An eye opened on his hand just to roll itself at him. "I'm the one who has to listen to your self-deprecating monologues, and I'm getting sick of it. Just tell him how you feel, brat." Sukuna's disembodied lips curled into a smirk. "If you don't, I will."

"No way!" Yuuji whisper-shouted. He practically sprinted into his room and, in the absence of a lock, pushed a chair behind his door to grant the illusion of privacy. But Sukuna wasn't done yet, and the next time he closed his eyes, Yuuji found himself ankle-deep in what he really hoped wasn't blood, and looked up a pile of ox skulls at the last person he wanted to hear romantic advice from. 

Sukuna absentmindedly picked at long, black nails. "Why don't you switch with me? I'll be sure not to embarrass myself, so don't worry about that."

"That's kind of creepy. Aren't you like, a thousand years old?" Yuuji wrinkled his nose. "Do you just want him all to yourself?"

Sukuna made a face. "Oh, that's disgusting." He made a retching sound, like a cat coughing up a hairball. "Imply that again and I'll kill you in your sleep."

Yuuji was, at the very least, thankful that the murderous curse sharing his body had standards.

"Now the image is burned into my brain. Look at what you've done, brat." Yuuji only recognized the sensation of being cut into pieces and immediately restored because of how many times his conversations with Sukuna had ended that way. Still, he stumbled a little at the sudden disorientation. 

"Hmm." Sukuna tapped his nails on a skull. "Brat, what have you been educated in?"

"Huh? Aren't you the one who complains about having to sit through my algebra classes? You already know what I'm educated in. Um," Yuuji furrowed his brow. "I took piano lessons when I was 8? Not that I was any good at it."

Sukuna sighed. "I don't care about your algebra or your piano lessons. I mean your courtly skills."

"Uh."

Yuuji heard the creaking of bone, and he was met with two pairs of blood-red eyes suddenly before him. 

"Calligraphy? Poetry?"

"No…?"

Sukuna leaned in closer. "So, nothing then? You know nothing?"

Yuuji pushed him away. "Um, you've seen my handwriting."

"Kids these days." Sukuna clicked his tongue. "How standards have fallen."

"You know, a lot of things have changed between now and when you were alive. For one, there's this new thing called personal space."

The curse ignored him. Yuuji blinked and saw the ceiling of his dorm room, back at home in his body. 

Do you at least have a brush, then?

No, weirdo. I have a pen, if that's good enough for you.

Tch.

Seriously, how are you this far behind? I thought you were starting to get this modern era stuff. 

I am trying to salvage the situation you've put me in, brat. How will you write a letter to him without putting care into your calligraphy?

Nobody said anything about a letter! 

This is how it was done in my time. You certainly don't have any better options.

"Fine, I'll Google it then," Yuuji mumbled. He opened his laptop, his fingers hovering over the keys. Slowly, he typed out "how to tell someone you like them."

The advice was all very vague. It was awkward enough to admit to himself that he liked Fushiguro in a way that went past friendship. It was worse that Sukuna's eye was wide open on his cheek and reading everything he did, reminding Yuuji somewhat of a teacher hovering behind him in the computer lab and reading over his shoulder. 

"It says you should give him a gift. I have an idea." Yuuji didn't want to hear Sukuna's idea. "You should give him the carcass of a beast you slew yourself." Yuuji didn't want to hear any more of Sukuna's ideas. 

"Sukuna, have you ever actually done this before? Because I don't think that would work, even if it was a thousand years ago."

"Why would I need to do such a thing?"

That was a little surprising. "Well, you sounded so confident, I thought you had experience or something."

"Love is a fruitless endeavor. The only thing that matters in this world is the spilling of blood upon the earth, and everything that comes between. But you're so annoying that I decided to stoop down to your level so I could help you. You should be grateful."

"Stoop down to my level? What, is this wounding your pride?"

"My pride isn't something so easily scarred. Hearing your constant chattering, all revolving around that Fushiguro boy, is much more painful than condescending to help you." 

"What's with the flowery language all of a sudden?"

"You really are uncultured."

"Well—" 

The sound of someone knocking at his door startled Yuuji out of his carefully constructed comeback, laced with a few choice words he'd learned from Kugisaki the last time she stubbed her toe. 

"Itadori? The movie's over." Oh fuck. "You left your phone on the couch." The doorknob rattled. 

"Uh, just a second!" Yuuji slammed his laptop shut and dragged the chair out of the way before opening the door.

Fushiguro blinked. "Itadori, were you watching po—"

"Nope! No, I wasn't," Yuuji said, fully aware that every word he spoke only cemented that conclusion in Fushiguro's mind. "I'm just going to take my phone now. See you tomorrow!" 

Yuuji grabbed his phone and made a move to close the door, but Fushiguro caught his wrist. His grip was firm and cool to the touch. 

"You've been acting strange lately. Did something happen?"

"I'm fine," Yuuji said automatically. His lips had probably memorized the shape of those words by now. 

"No, you aren't." Fushiguro's grip tightened a little, as if worried that Yuuji would try to snake out of it. I could try. I'm stronger than him.

"Itadori, look at me."

Shakily, Yuuji turned. Blue eyes met hazel. He felt naked somehow under the spotlight of Fushiguro's penetrating gaze. Oh god, that sounds so wrong. I don't want to think about that, not now.

"Is it something I said? Or did something else happen to you? I want to know." 

(It had nothing to do with anything Fushiguro said, and everything to do with what he didn't.)

Itadori. I need you.

"I said I'm fine."

"And I said you're not." Fushiguro sighed a little and closed his eyes. The flutter of his eyelashes was distracting. "I'm worried about you."

Fushiguro? Worried about him? 

"Why?" Yuuji knew it was a stupid question, but he was feeling pretty stupid at the moment. "Why would you do that?"

"Why—" Fushiguro's grip on Yuuji's wrist loosened in surprise. Yuuji twisted himself away, ready to cache himself in his room, but Fushiguro caught the sleeve of his hoodie instead. Worse, he stepped inside and uncomfortably close to Yuuji.

He could already feel his face turning red, and this time he couldn't rely on the cover of darkness. 

"You're seriously asking me why I worry about you?" Fushiguro's voice didn't sound quite as even as it usually did. Yuuji didn't let himself hope it was concern. "You died in front of me, Yuuji. I… I had nightmares about it for months. Of course I'm worried."

He didn't know if it was Fushiguro's sudden use of his first name, or the quiver that accompanied it, but Yuuji's blood froze. He couldn't move even if he wanted to. 

Fushiguro positioned himself in front of Yuuji, and placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. His sapphire-blue eyes, normally so cold and distant, glittered with repressed tears. Yuuji stared at his lips instead. They looked so soft. Fushiguro had been biting them again; they were slightly flushed and raw in some places. 

"Please." Fushiguro was barely whispering now, his words only meant for the two of them. "I don't…"

I don't want to lose you again.  

Yuuji opened his mouth to speak, but didn't know where to start. How could he claim insecurity now that Fushiguro had been so vulnerable with him? His anxieties suddenly seemed very small and pitiful in the face of the burden he'd saddled on his friends. It was his fault that Fushiguro was close to tears now, when he could face curses on his own without a flicker of fear. Dark, thick shame sat heavily in his throat, and all he could do was gasp for air. 

You should take off your shirt.

Indignation replaced guilt in one swift motion. I am not taking off my shirt. 

"Sorry, Fushiguro." The apology was too quick, too shallow. "I'm sorry. For… everything." The back of his throat stung. "I'm sorry for bothering you. Please, just…" Just go. Just leave me alone. 

Just leave me to die. 

"You don't have to worry about me."

It's only going to hurt you in the end.

"I'll be f—"

Fushiguro grabbed him by the back of the head, subtracting from the distance between their faces. "How many times are you going to say you're fine? Is it so hard to believe that I care about you?" 

Don't say it. 

"Is it so hard to consider that I—" Fushiguro's voice broke. A gentle flush crept across his neck as he seemed to realize how close their faces were. 

Yuuji's vision blurred around the edges. Time crawled to a standstill, and there was nothing but the slope of Fushiguro's lips, trembling with words unsaid. Yuuji could hear his heart beating in his ears. He wondered if Fushiguro could hear it too, and if he felt some small comfort in knowing that the heart he had seen torn from its body and discarded like offal had been restored, and that it could beat and bleed and break again. 

"Would you just kiss him already?" 

Yuuji would have liked to think Sukuna had kept that comment for his ears only, but the way Fushiguro reeled back and turned beet red confirmed otherwise. 

"Your purple prose is getting on my nerves. I think I preferred it when you couldn't string sentences together." The lips on his cheek curled. "Honestly, if you had just taken your shirt off like I said, this would have been over already. I should have done it for you."

"What do you have against shirts? Haven't you ruined enough of my hoodies?"

Fushiguro cleared his throat. "Um."

Yuuji's face burned. "Oh. Uh. Sorry about that."

"What is it with you and apologies? You don't have to be sorry for everything." But Fushiguro was laughing. His mask had cracked, or perhaps he removed it himself. 

Yuuji couldn't help but smile. "I'll stop being sorry when you stop acting like you don't need anyone."

Fushiguro's face darkened slightly, as if wrapped in a shadow. "Is that what it was? I—"

Yuuji punched him lightly in the arm before he could apologize. "You're so emotionally constipated." 

The tiniest of grins played on Fushiguro's lips. "So…" He leaned in closer. "What was that about kissing me?"

And this time Yuuji leaned into it, letting Fushiguro take everything he had. His eyelashes, still wet from almost crying, brushed against Yuuji's face as they breathed each other in. Yuuji found himself clinging to him like a lifeline, as if any moment he might slip away.

I'm not going to leave you behind.

He was laughing and crying at the same time. "I never thought you liked me back," Yuuji gasped when he broke away for air.

Fushiguro traced his thumb under Yuuji's eye. "You really are dense, you know that?" "So I've been told."

Is this what I was looking for?

Yuuji melted into him, kissing him like a drowning man gasps for air. How could he have deluded himself into thinking he was alone? How, when Fushiguro's body fit him like a puzzle piece, and they were embracing each other like they had never been separate? 

You're welcome. Brat.

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

"You know, I thought you'd at least notice all the times I was staring at you," Fushiguro mumbled sleepily. Their rhythm had slowed and now Yuuji was small and limp in his arms, playing with a strand of his hair. 

"Nope. Not even once." A sea of drowsiness threatened to engulf Yuuji, but he stubbornly resisted, if only to stay with Fushiguro for a moment more. He suppressed a yawn. 

"Gojo caught me watching you train once. He tortured me about it for a week." Fushiguro chuckled softly. "Um, he takes a lot of pictures of you. If you ever find a really blurry photo of you sparring in my room, that's why."

"Mm-hmm." Who knew Fushiguro was so warm? 

"Hey."

Yuuji's gaze flickered up to Fushiguro's eyes. Oh, he thought. They're so open. I can see right through him. 

"I'm here. Okay?"

I'm not going anywhere.

"Okay."

Neither am I.

And there was nothing but Fushiguro's breathing, and the heaviness of sleep, and the weight of words unspoken between them. 

[medievalcat]

ok. I finished Children of God (sequel to The Sparrow), and while I was able to follow it better than when I first read it (I think I was really distracted a few years ago, and had trouble focusing).....I didn’t like it as much as the first one, which I’m aware isn’t an unpopular opinion, even though I didn’t hate all of it. Here are my thoughts on why it didnt work imo and what I did like about it.

The Sparrow would naturally be a hard act to follow, and I get that sometimes sequels do different things than the first installations. book one is about Emilio and book two is about Rakhat. Okay. I think there’s a lot of interesting material that could have been made of Emilio, John, and all the new guys visiting Rakhat years after the first expedition. It’s what the author did- and, really, this was present in the first book as well, and one of the first book’s issues, but here it’s really one of the main points of the story and far more prominent than ever before- that didn’t succeed. It’s the story of Rakhat....but given how Rakhat is written, maybe it shouldnt have been. This book honestly ranged from “enjoyable” to “disappointing” to “implicitly or explicitly expressing horrible views”.

It’s one thing to make an oppression storyline in a fantasy setting- FMA for example does this. But in that, the victims are humans. In this, not only does the story do an oppression narrative about fantasy creatures, which is already a very difficult thing to pull off, she repeatedly draws comparisons between nonhuman aliens and things like the Holocaust and genocide and oppression of Native Americans. She even has her one native character draw this comparison and *stay behind on another planet instead of going to earth* for some “reservation” plotline at the end.  This is a good example of why when we criticize media sometimes we have to focus specifically on the writers who choose to make these events happen, who choose to write certain stories and who choose to frame them in certain ways. I’m kind of glad this book doesn’t have a fandom, really, because tumblr types would focus on which aliens’ side is “right” and not on the fact that the author chose to write some fantasy creature oppression story with incoherent imperialism commentary while trivializing real genocides. I remember a really uncomfortable paragraph in the first one that implied the Ottoman Empire was some kind of safe haven for all ethnic/religious groups as well as a line (keep in mind these were written in the 90s) about how Bosnia is violent because of ............ “blood feuds”. Many people have said this story is weak because it focused on these new alien characters and the Rakhat storyline so much. This, for me, is the main reason why that storyline was so weak.

One thing I liked was some of the new characters. I liked Danny and Joseba and Nico and Sean and Gina and Pope Gelasius. I think this book kind of did a “later season of Vikings” so that there were suddenly all these new people but few of them got good development. So that was a weakness but I didn’t mind many of the characters in and of themselves and enjoyed these new additions. Sure they weren’t like the people in the first book but that’s okay. They added new perspectives. Danny had a lot of interesting stuff about forgiveness that I liked. I also liked initially how Sofia was revealed to be alive but....she was shafted. We barely see her in favor of her badly offensively written written son (I know this was written 20 years ago but. the way he and his disability are portrayed as like...literally “alien” even though ths is supposed to be a “positive”.... is honestly....why  the living fuck did she do this....) and Supaari’s daughter who he CONCEIVED FROM RAPE and we’re just supposed to be ok with that bc the author very conveniently wrote the victim to be as unsympathetic as possible and because “uwu miracle of life!! yay children!” I’m supposed to buy that Sofia, a child trafficking survivor, is allies and friends with a man who not only is a rapist but sold a person she loved into sex slavery.......after the narrative called to attention how similar Sofia and Emilio’s experiences were, and the first book was an imperfect story but a deep introspective exploration of the effects of SA.....lol ok. And then she gets killed off at the end offscreen in a single sentence.

There’s also....I really doubt she intended some of this but it’s clearly in the story .... it really has bad implications, that the only relations between men are abusive in both books. there are literally no other relations between men, even though there is a gay character (who I understand  is a celibate priest, and having a gay priest is cool!) but....it just doesnt have good implications that relations between men are only ever presented as bad. especially because the thing that truly “heals” Emilio is being with a woman and I think in our society (and thus our media) we have a real problem with thinking that “healing” as a sexual abuse victim means having sex with a man if youre a woman and with a woman if you’re a man, and that male sa victims of men are only really victims if they like women (and, of course, women sa victims in general just have to like men). Of course there is nothing wrong with Gina, I loved her, and nothing is wrong with writing an sa survivor who is able to have a relationship after. But MDR killed her off for no good reason. The other crew members dying in the first book, those were well written character deaths. and how many times did she do the “this woman died but thats whatever narratively, because she has a kid uwu miracle of life” thing in this sequel. I think MDR is like GRRM in that she has good intentions clearly, and has such good sff works/characters and takes oh the Human Experience and everything, but doesn’t always know how to handle issues in a responsible way and it’s really glaring even if there are obviously worse people in media. To be honest (and again, here Im glad there’s no fandom, because people are so weird about this stuff) MDR should have just had Emilio and John be together. “Your friendship should have been proof enough of God” ???????? hello??????  Their relationship was one of  the things that actually was well fleshed out in the sequel until John and all the other guys who weren’t in the Camorra  just.....stayed on Rakhat forever.

Part of the handling of Sofia seemed like a broader pattern of the plot being completely forced. Everything happens for some sake of The Plot- this is something later seasons of GOT have been criticized for. This plot in particular, in addition to the alien oppression metaphor, seemed to want to make everything about the story in particular its end be some kind of “bookend” to mirror the first book. Sofia dies (for real this time. honestly....her death in the first one was good writing!), Emilio and his unlikely escorts go home, no one else gets to go home, there’s a huge societal upheaval on Rakhat because of the humans, a huge reveal about Rakhat’s “divine” music. I have nothing against this kind of narrative device but when it’s this forced to the point where the story is blatantly constructed for the sake of this......it didn’t work. The “music” plot twist was like..............really??? All of that? They’re staying on this planet? If they had all gotten more time in the story (because this book is the same length as the first book but has far more different subplots and far longer of a timespan and far more narrators) we might  find that more plausible. I don’t think everything needs to be spelled out for us. In the first book when everyone is stranded, it’s clear that they think this is tragic, but they are trying to make the best of it because they all love each other and are together. In this one they don’t all have that kind of bond and it’s dependent on the long-winded and incoherent Rakhat political storyline. Because a lot of it isn’t even that well developed in addition to the earlier addressed things. We go between random one-off characters. So much is about the war but it’s written so anti-climatically. Sofia broke down in the first book when she learned they were stranded, and now she doesn’t care at all about returning back to Earth because the Runa are “her people” now, but how much of that is really what she tells herself to cope with what she lost- and what she experienced on earth in her youth? we don’t know. The Pope just....sent Emilio who became probably the most infamous person on Earth, back into space, and it wasn’t a big deal for the Church or at all? And all it took for it to happen was a handful of Camorra men with Vatican connections, who were just adapted so well to space travel and extended time on a new planet that initially made the people in the first book sick when transitioning into life there? And let me reiterate we’re supposed to accept that the divinely ordained reason all this happened was because Isaac wrote music inspired by human and alien dna and it sounded wonderful? 

This just felt very forced. “Emilio never wants to go back to Rakhat so obviously this book has to be about how he goes back there and accepts that it actually happened for a Good Reason bc of some music, and music was the way they found it in the first place.” How about how he accepts that it happened and comes to terms with what happened to him without either hating himself for his actions or thinking it was all For The Greater Good Actually, because you cant undo the past, aka what the first book was building up to and culminated in? idk. the first book was all about how bad things happen and that this doesn’t mean we have to give up our faith even if we question our faith. this was more like “every cloud has a silver lining lol”.

There were many nice things- Emilio’s friendship with Nico, many of the moments with Sofia towards the end and her reuniting with Emilio, John getting more to do, the new Pope, Celestina ending up having an important job as a theater and leaving a trail of men in her wake lol. I don’t want to say don’t read this. But if you like the first book you might not like this one, and if you’re considering reading the first book, it.....works best as a standalone.