(very late im so sorry) fic rec friday 7
hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!
i am indeed aware it is monday. i am a fool who is Bad at planning. my bad.
A Place To Start by @wintersky101
Nico can speak English, Italian, Latin and Ancient Greek. Unfortunately, he can only read and write in two of the four, and even more unfortunately, English isn’t one of those.
paul blofis & nico isn't something i knew i needed but i LOVE. like lets maybe get this kid a real grownup, huh? also i think it's really funny that nico is older than paul technically. like i imagine paul, who is a history nerd, would be spending half their tutoring sessions grilling nico about the 40s lol
2. Transitioning to Manhood by @nicostolemybones
Will gets a box from his mom of childhood memories.
i have quotes from this fic framed. it is deeply moving, especially that one paragraph about conditional love....like yeah it got to me. i wept about the conditional love paragraph. if you are ready for some catharsis this is indeed the fic for you
3. Doctor solace to the rescue by Phantomxlegend
Will idolized Beckendorf when he was younger, and who wouldn’t pass up on a chance to heal your idol and prove that you could be just as strong?
ON MY HANDS AND KNEES ON THE FUCKING FLOOR......WEEPING AND CRYING AND CLUTCHING THE BLUE FUCKING CURTAINS. WHY. WHY. CLAWING THE SKIN OFF MY FACE AND SOBBING INTO MY HANDS. no exaggeration when i say i never fully recovered from this one. baby will and quiet nobel beckendorf. beckendorf i love you. beckendorf you deserved a thousand times more than what you got. i can't feel my chest
4. Silver Rings by @buoyantsaturn
Barely a second later, he said, “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” Will said back to him, not taking his eyes off the gash.
“That ring.” Will froze, eyes widening. “Isn’t that Nico’s?
secret relationship my EVERYTHING. makes me buckshit feral every time its so FUN. cj ur iconic and you have been THEEE backbone of this fandom for years. i love this one particularly bc the whole thing with will glowing will never not be funny shdhfdjsnfkf
5. A Little More in the Closet Than Out of it by @buoyantsaturn
The only thing they could do to keep Harley in the infirmary so they could keep him monitored was to keep him entertained, and somehow, Will had gotten himself roped into a game of hide and seek.
giggle was giggled at the title. i am easily entertained. but the fic was fun and sweet; harley is the camp's darling as is his right. nico is such a dweepy dork loser hes so real i love him
thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!
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suicide cw
look i have been in this area before mentally. it sucks and i wouldn’t wish this on anyone. but, and this is going to sound callous, but i don’t feel any sympathy for james somerton. even if i hope he’s like. not dead. But thats all the amount of goodwill im willing to give him. The more i think about this really, the more angry i am.
ngl this entire situation is another example of how white people weaponize their mental illness to avoid consequences. Im seeing it in real time.
this man has a continuous habit of using self-harm as a get-out-of-jail-for-free card. in both of his apologies, he has worded his supposed attempts in ways that were clearly meant to guilt people who displayed his plagiarism and overall horrendous history of racism and misogyny. i say supposed because, while i’m not saying those are lies and this would he such a fucked up thing to lie about that i don’t want to think he has, unfortunately, it’s been proven again and again that his word can’t be trusted, as he’s known to lie to try get out of consequences. Hes a proven liar. him lying about this is actually the best case scenario, because no one should go through this entire situation, wouldnt wish this on anyone, but you can only do this so often before people stop sympathizing with you. is this callous? Yeah, but like. I’m actually fucking angry he cant straight up take no as an answer. that this is how he reacts realizing he cant be one of the Cool Kidz™️ on youtube anymore. he acts like he DESERVES a career, like its not a privilege hes lost due to his own actions.
He lied about apologizing and forgiving people, he lied about giving the money to hbomberguy to give to ppl he ripped off (yknow, instead of doing it himself), he lied about the jessie gender situation and rewrote the narrative to make it so he isnt the bad guy, and hes the victim all along actually!
you can’t tell me that supposed last message of his isn’t meant to be a 13 reasons why esq attempt to deflect the blame “look i’m going to kill myself and it’s all YOUR PEOPLES FAULT for not letting me achieve my DREAM of being filmmaker IN PEACE!!! I just wanted Nick’s (the guy who I have thrown under the bus again and again) portfolio up!! Im just being a good friend dont you all FEEL BAD” he refuses to take ANY ACCOUNTABILITY of any of his actions and he IS STILL trying to shove the blame over to other people again.
it’s also pretty ironic people are like “uhhh well hbomber’s fans harassed him!!!” like hbomber outright told people NOT to HARASS JAMES!!! ALSO acting as if james doesn’t have a very real documented history of STRAIGHT UP sending his fans to harass and threaten smaller creators, more notably women, trans, and bipoc creators. especially after he’s stolen typically very personal anecdotes so he could profit from them. so why can he do it but the second people are like “hey this guys an actual piece of shit.” and he can’t handle it suddenly people are trying to white knight his shit? like no he doesn’t get that. he doesn’t get that at all just because he couldn’t handle the consequences of his actions.
what? were supposed to stay quiet about a man profiting off of other minorities because he wanted to be the spokesman for all gay people? people tried to solve this on a smaller, more private scales for YEARS and he kept doing it. it was clear that the giant public video was the ONLY way to get people to notice. HE WOULDVE GOTTEN AWAY WITH STEALING 87 FUCKING THOUSANDS WORTH OF DOLLARS. HE CANT HANDLE THE FACT HE CANT GET AWAY WITH IT.
am i supposed to feel bad for the guy who basically threatened a trans woman with the police? i don’t care what anyone says, it’s so fucking obvious that he threatened jessie by implying he was getting the police involved in their conflict. what am i supposed to act like that didn’t happen? are we supposed to pretend like he didn’t glorify nazi’s and outright said that gay people made up a good chunk of the nazis? That he didnt say america joined ww2 bc they were jealous of the NAZIS. WHAT WOULD POSSESS YOU TO FUCKING SAY THAT. but then? He gives women (not even women most of the time, he misgenders nonbinary ppl constantly) shit for writing mlm. are we supposed to act like he doesn’t straight-up sees himself superior and better than people of color and steals their works to put himself on a pedestal? Are we supposed to act like he didnt spit on our elders by saying “only the boring gays survived aids” like man! Fuck you! He BLANTANTLY MAKES UP HISTORY TO PUT HIMSELF ON A PEDESTAL!! HE ACTIVELY TRIED TO REWRITE LGBT HISTORY TO SUIT HIS FUCKED UP NARRATIVES!
yes this sucks ! no one deserves this but no one should be making him a martyr. Thats what he fucking WANTS! He wants to be immortalized as a victim!! (again, supposedly, it was reported hes alive but its not confirmed).
The shit he got isnt near the amount of fucking callous behavior hes done again and again. Again, to drill this point, EVEN IF HE DIDNT CALL THE POLICE HE THREATENED A TRANS WOMAN INTO THINKING HE DID!!! The fact he tried to use a head injury to justify years of the outright ghoulish shit fucking astounds me. Why the fuck did anyone in his life thought it was a good idea to let him TRY to come back. in the end, he had options. he didn’t need to try to make a comeback. HE DIDNT NEED TO FUCKING LIE OR IGNORE THE SHIT HE WAS CALLED OUT ON the reality is, he wanted to come back thinking he could shove it under the rug, was told that no dude, you’re not allowed to be a youtuber anymore. you’re done. you need to move on and went full nuclear. it’s not on anyone’s hands but his own. HES BEEN DOING THIS TO HIMSELF!! But nah man we cant call his shit out bc hell may or may not kill himself. Fuck the other minorities who have the same issues but worse and sometimes BECAUSE of him. This is going to SUCKKKK so bad when other ppl, specifically white gays, are going to weaponize this shit to get away with their stuff.
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I can't stop thinking of Kyanako's Order of Attack au... there's something so moving to me about how things getting so much worse could be what finally causes Amane to get better -- seeing Fuuta dying may be the final straw of getting her to rethink her rejection of medicine. Been a while since I've attempted something whump-y, this was fun to work with.
Tw for mentions/contemplation of death. I don't go into detail about the cult but the doctrines are implied through it all.
Fuuta was not a big fan of dying.
When he imagined his own death, he always pictured it as something dramatic and fast. Action heroes going out in a show of explosions and gunfire. Fantasy characters meeting the shining end of a blade. Even when he accepted his place in Milgram, it filled his mind with images of gallows and electric chairs.
Whatever this slow, lengthy fever was, it was pissing him off.
He’d lost all sense of time. He could no longer tell which hour the prison bells were marking -- morning and night blended together. Dreaming and waking blended together. His head injury and broken leg and broken bones blended together. It was all just pain at the end of the day. He had nonstop visitors that kept him awake and asked him too many questions and prodded his injuries and made his head spin. Somehow, he was simultaneously alone every time he rolled over to talk to someone. Painfully, suffocatingly alone.
If Kotoko was going to kill him with those ridiculous emo boots of hers, she should have just done it. He was losing his mind here: devoid of all energy, suffering through broken bones and a cracked head, and boiling in an increasingly fiery fever. Maybe that was the reason he stopped commenting when he watched Amane pocket the medicine Shidou had left him. Maybe that was why he’d stopped following Shidou’s instructions himself. Even after losing an eye and taking a beating herself, Amane always looked at peace. He was tired of dealing with all of this. He wanted a bit of that peace.
Regardless of why, it was working. His fever had quickly gone from the biggest pain in his ass to the very thing that dulled his racing thoughts.
He awoke suddenly, or maybe he’d already been awake. He couldn’t feel anything in his limbs. There was only a breathless heat around him. He raised himself into a sitting position, looking for a drink. Moving his head felt like one of those glitching computer windows that leaves a trail of copies behind it. The room swam around him. His eyes moved absently around him.
Fuuta picked up the glass that someone had left him. His fingers were clumsy, and it immediately went crashing to the ground. He hardly heard the noise as it broke apart on the concrete below.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed. He’d just go get a drink himself. Shidou told him not to get up without help. But what did he know? Thinking of the man ordering him around only drove Fuuta to step out of bed even quicker. He cried out, pain shooting through his leg. That was right, it was broken…
Fuuta looked down, finding himself on the ground. It was so hot. Maybe this is what she felt, he thought numbly. Was it this slow for her too? Probably not. She had no regrets to fill the time like he did. The heroes got quick, beautiful deaths, and it was the villains who had to suffer the long ones.
He lifted his right palm from where it had caught his fall. The shattered glass on the floor had cut into it. Shattered glass? What had broken? He stared blankly at the blood dripping down.
He didn’t have the strength to raise himself up. He was burning. Why was he on the ground? Was he bleeding? He could barely breathe. What was he doing here, anyway? He just wanted to curl up and sleep. He was so weak... just to lie down... he wouldn't have the strength to get back up again. Was that such a bad thing...?
A voice caught his attention. His eyes struggled to focus on the figure who’d come running into the cell. He couldn’t understand a word of what she was saying, but he was happy when she pressed her cool little hands against his forehead.
He allowed her to prop him up next to the bed. She held onto his hand, squeezing it tight. Why was she holding it like that? That hand was bleeding. When did that happen?
Her arms wrapped tightly around him. He wanted to shove her away -- it was too hot -- but couldn’t. In his ear, he could make out her words. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, Fuuta. Don’t leave me alone. I’m so sorry...”
As she pulled back, he recognized Amane. Her uninjured eye was filled with tears. Was she upset? He thought he’d been making her happy. He wanted to keep making her happy. He’d never made anyone happy before.
He opened his mouth to say something, but no words would come out. They all scrambled up in his mouth. He felt the cell swirling around him.
Amane raised her voice. She looked desperately upwards. “This can’t be --! This isn’t right!”
Fuuta looked up at the ceiling. There was nothing there.
“I can’t do this anymore.”
She continued talking. Fuuta was too busy studying the ceiling. She was shouting. Or maybe crying. Fuuta didn’t like that she was so upset. Huh, had there been someone there? He surveyed the empty cell. What was he doing on the ground?
He looked down at his hand. The sheet from his bed had been pulled down and wrapped hastily around it. Why? His eyes felt sticky as he blinked. Everything hurt. It was so hot. What was going on? He was so angry. He was so scared. He wanted to cry. Why was he here? Why couldn’t he just hurry up and die already?
The next time she entered, Fuuta recognized Amane instantly. Her one hand pointed to him, the other held onto someone else. The second figure hurried over to him.
Fuuta was not a big fan of dying. Shidou reassured him he wouldn’t.
—
“You’re wearing the eyepatch,” Fuuta observed.
He was playing a dangerous game, drawing attention to it like that. He was too exhausted, and his curiosity won out over his better judgment. If Amane was going to explode with one of her typical speeches, he’d just let her.
She didn’t.
Amane’s hand drifted up to her eye. It had been hastily covered before, but now it was cleaned and wrapped in professional-grade materials. She simply said, “Kajiyama Fuuta. How do you feel?”
“Like shit.”
“But--”
“-- But I’m better, yeah.”
Amane nodded, her shoulders releasing.
“Oi, I haven’t seen you in a while. Not since…” He wasn’t sure how to finish the sentence. Shidou had told him what happened, but it was difficult to believe. He couldn’t quite trust his own memory of the night. No matter how much clearer his mind felt since receiving proper treatment, those days of fever still muddled together. He heard that Amane had up and switched her beliefs overnight -- she was now complacent about all of Shidou's treatments -- but Fuuta knew people didn't just change like that. He wanted to hear it for himself.
She lowered her gaze in shame. “I… I thought you hated me.” Her voice was steady. “As you should. I almost killed you. I accept any ill will you may feel.”
“I -- what? You’re wrong. You… it wasn’t…” He grabbed his head, grunting in frustration.
After standing awkwardly in the entryway the whole time, Amane took a few steps inside. She made it to his bedside when he finally collected his thoughts.
“It was your fucked up family or whatever that caused everything. They did this. And I went along and made things worse.” He looked away. His next words felt stupid to say to a little kid. He felt like the most pathetic, weak, loser. But it was too important not to say.
“They almost killed me. You saved me.”
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Made myself sad over the thought of what if the champions ever met their younger selves
Like imagine Lance ruffling his younger self's hair, young Lance is there w his shoulders raised, an arm over his eyes, hiding his tears, Dratini on his shoulders trying to comfort him, and Lance, voice ever so soft, like he was afraid anyone would hear him, afraid of anyone to hear his voice crack, "you're enough."
Imagine Steven sitting with his younger self, young Steven holding Beldum close as he cries, and Steven's there pulling him to a side hug, he looks away, almost fighting back his own tears, he clutched his mother's emerald pendant tight in his fist, "I miss her too."
Imagine Wallace kneeling in front of his younger self, young Wallace was wearing a tattered dress, tears in his eyes as he held his cheek, hiding a bruise, and Wallace is there wiping the stray tears away. He smiles softly, his own heart aching, "there's nothing wrong with you."
Imagine Cynthia hugging her younger self, young Cynthia was holding her hand over her recently scarred left eye, her other hand was clutching Cynthia's shirt tight, sobbing her heart out. Cynthia pulls her impossibly closer, stroking her hair as she tries to hide her own tears, "it wasn't your fault."
Imagine Iris sitting with her younger self at the roof of Opelucid's Gym, watching over the city, watching everyone minding their business, and Iris just smiles at her younger self, giving her a pat on her shoulder, trying to mask the waver in her voice, "soon they'll see how strong you'll be."
Imagine Diantha with her younger self, young Dia was carrying her Carbink, happy to show her beloved partner pokemon off, and Diantha smiles at her with a sadness she thought she had buried along with her pokemon. She gently pats the head of her Carbink, something she never thought she could ever feel again, "take care of them, okay?"
Imagine Hau comforting his younger self, imagine him telling young Hau that everything will be fine, that soon he'll prove he's more than just a terrified little kid hiding behind his grandfather, prove he's more than that, that he too will be strong like the others, "just be brave. Be the bravest ever."
Imagine Leon placing his cap on his younger self's head, laughing as he did, and he watched in amusement as younger Leon looked at him with his best angry look, then his smile turned somber, and he turned to look at the view from his tower, how isolating it was for a ten year old, how they left a child to bear the responsibilities of the region, "it's quite lonely here, don't you think?"
Imagine Geeta sitting w her younger self at the end of the stairway to the Academy, both sitting in silence as they watch Pawniard run around catching a stray Marill. Geeta then turned to her, her younger self, so lonely and quiet and friendless, then she placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, even though her own hands were trembling, "don't worry, someone out there would want to be your friend."
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