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too-deviant · 1 month

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jackie and wilson.

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summary: you haven’t been given a quest, but you have made it your personal mission to make luke castellan smile.

pairing: luke castellan x unclaimed!reader

word count: 4.1k

content: broody!luke, teenage dirtbag!luke but also not really, sprinkles of mean!luke, r is unbothered and does not gaf about his lil emo boy act, this is four thousand words of r being a pain in luke’s ass, probs will make a part 2 bc i love them your honour

notes: speaking my truth: i am a british gal. any banter in this about the new england states is entirely stuff i got from reddit so plz don’t scrutinise my american states knowledge

the layout of this fic is very much inspired by @murdrdocs if that wasn’t obvious but also icarus if u want me to change it i will jus say the word :00

PART I — she blows outta nowhere, roman candle of the wild

All things considered, you took the news of your heritage pretty well.

Sure, there was a lot of yelling — mostly through the wall after you locked yourself in your room and started packing a bag — but at least you didn’t sit on it in denial for several hours.

Honestly, you should’ve seen it coming.

The first time you realised you could see things nobody else could, you tried to admit yourself into a ward. Your mom went a little panicky, and she never did perform well under pressure, so she caved and said you were special. Too special for the other kids at your school, too special for anyone to know about it.

After that, she got more tense. Eyes darting around whenever you guys went out in public, hand lingering for a second longer on your back before she sent you to school — as if she felt like she’d never see you again. She would stay up at night and read you old Greek tales before you went to sleep, and acted way too serious about it. More serious than when she would read you Dr Seuss.

Honestly, it was a miracle you went unknowing for so long. Maybe you were insignificant, or maybe the Stymphalian Pigeon that tried to kill you after school was just slow — because you were seventeen when you got attacked by your first monster.

You took it out pretty easily — and by that, I mean you outran it through the bustling streets of your hometown until it flew messily into a bus and you dodged your way to your apartment in a flurry. Your mom’s resolve cracked like a thin layer of ice and you were packed and ready to go to this camp she spoke of before the clock had hit four-thirty.

Most of the yelling that you guys did was along the lines of — “I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me!” — and — “I didn’t want you to leave!” — “I get that, but seriously mom, I almost got eaten by a bird today. A little context going in would’ve been nice!”

You threw yourself into a taxi — much to the disdain of your mother, who insisted on at least getting you to the hill. You then reminded her that she would have to pay the fare all the way back to their apartment and it honestly wouldn’t be worth it and that you’d call her when you got the chance. She let you go with a huff, folding her arms across her chest and creasing the silky material of her pink blouse.

The next hour was about as awkward as taxi rides go, even more so when you got out in the middle of nowhere. You weren’t even sure you were at the bottom of the right hill but sent the poor guy on his way anyway and prayed to whoever your divine parent was that you weren’t about to get gunned down by an angry farmer for mistaking his land for a summer camp.

Thankfully, the empty fields shimmered into something worth travelling for when you took a tentative step across its threshold. The sun seemed to get brighter and the breeze became softer. It was nice from where you stood, and it probably would’ve gotten nicer the closer you got.

Had you not tripped over a rock and tumbled down the hill ungracefully, landing in a heap at the bottom, a few feet away from a dirt path that split off in two directions. You sat up with a huff, blowing your hair out of your eyes and squinting at your surroundings now that they were much closer. You didn’t bother to heave yourself up, catching your breath and letting your gaze flitter over the scenery.

It was cute.

Then the distinct sound of horse hooves clipping against the ground evaded your ears, and you looked up to greet the centaur who now stood above you. You thanked the gods for your moms intricately detailed bedtime stories as you pulled yourself up onto your feet and allowed yourself to be introduced to Chiron and Mr. D, who then led you to the four story house that overlooked the valley.

Your induction was swift and sweet — since you pretty much knew and had accepted everything already. There were a couple of glances and muttered comments about how you had gone so long without being targeted, but Chiron had said he wanted you to get the tour before dinner so you could settle straight to bed after the campfire, and caught some young kid by the t-shirt as he ran past, asking him politely if he could send Luke over.

The awkward two minutes it took for your tour guide to reach you stretched on for a painful amount of time, but you would relive it a hundred times over if it meant you didn’t have to experience the agony you called your first meeting with Luke Castellan.

He was tall, with a dark mop of curls that hung over his furrowed brows. His skin was tanned from all the time he spent in the sun, and his shoulders were broad enough to intimidate, but not broad enough that you were intimidated. He was your age, seemingly, and the cuffs of his green cargo pants brushed against his ankles only an inch higher than they would sit on an average person.

His most memorable feature, however, had to be the deep scar that stretched from the top of his left brow all the way to his cheekbone — it was jagged and sharp, cutting across his eye roughly, as if he had been clawed. He probably had. It was raised and shone pink under the sun, so you could tell it was fairly new, but it had healed over enough to indicate that Luke was probably tired of hearing people ask about it. So you didn’t. You barely gave it a glance before you raised your brows at him with a cheeky grin and gave him your name.

He nodded minutely, one of the only movements he made after he’d parked himself in front of you other than the sliding of his eyes from one person to another as they spoke to him. After Chiron and Mr D had given him the rundown, he gave a slight nod of his head in one direction before walking away and expecting you to follow.

You caught up to him, sidling up on his left with a huff and a smile, “I’m getting the feeling that you're sorta sick of this giving this tour all the time.”

He didn’t respond. He just looked at you, and then stopped walking, watching as you froze two steps ahead of him before shuffling back to his side sheepishly. Then he lifted an unbothered hand to the right, “Those are the strawberry fields.” He then gestured ahead, “That’s the beach.” And then to the left, “Those are the training fields.”

Then he started walking again, and you hesitated for only a second before following, “Wow. Don’t give me too much information all at once.”

Your sarcastic comment was ignored, and Luke nodded towards the bank of cabins you were nearing, “These are the cabins. Twelve. One for each Olympian. You’ll stay in the Hermes cabin until you’re claimed.”

“Right.” You nodded, “God of Travellers. Makes sense.”

He let out a breath, not pausing in his stride as he passed through the curve of houses, not sparing a glance to any of them. You took notice of how the other kids looked at him in apprehension, with a hint of fear when he got too close. He cut down an alley between two cabins — one with a dangerous amount of barbed wire across the top and another that glowed gold under the sunlight — before the pair emerged through the trees at a pavilion.

“This is where we eat.” He said. “Dinner is soon.”

“Cool.” You nodded, “What are the options? Because if food here is lacking, then I will be packing.”

You let out a useless chuckle at your own joke, but it landed flat. “Yeah, that wasn’t funny.” You muttered lowly. With a click of your tongue, you glanced over the horizon and pointed at something from afar. A tall structure that stuck out the tops of the trees, “What’s that?”

“The climbing wall.” Luke answered plainly.

“And that?”

“The Amphitheatre.”

You looked up at him, pulling a face he didn’t bother to glance at. Then you noticed a bunch of campers filing through the trees and into the pavilion the two of you stood at the edge of. They entered in groups and made their way to their designated tables, chattering and gossiping as they did.

You looked at Luke, “Well, that was…great. Truly, a riveting experience. I will say, though — your delivery needs some work. The dark and gloomy act works most of the time, but not when you’re giving a guided tour.”

That got him to look at you, and you held back your triumphant smirk. He frowned, “What?”

You shrugged, “I’m just saying, nobody is going to listen to you talk about this place if you describe it like this.” You lowered your tone into a subpar impression of his voice, and you swore you saw his brows twitch. Clearing your throat, you waved a hand, “No need to worry about that now, though. Just point me in the direction of the Hermes table and I’ll be out of your strangely well-conditioned hair.”

Another eyebrow twitch. You were getting the hang of this. Maybe one day you could get him to move other parts of his face!

You half expected the boy to ignore you and walk off — and he did. But it was in the direction of the Hermes table, so you counted it as him showing you the way. Most of the campers were seated by the time you’d arrived, and you were thus forced to sit yourself on the end of the bench, uncomfortably beside him. He was unbothered.

During dinner you were swiftly introduced to some of your peers — Chris Rodriguez gave you a lopsided grin and informed you politely that you would need to sacrifice some of your food before you got stuck into it. Travis and Connor Stoll sidled up on either side of you as you grumbled at the hearth, and yapped your ear off about the fundamentals of camp.

(So all the sneaky stuff Chiron doesn’t know about. Like how you can skip out on archery training if Lee is the one running it because he never has it in him to snitch. Or that the pegasi stables were the go-to hook up spot for summer campers, but the back of the Amphitheater was the go-to hook up spot for the year-rounders. When you asked what the difference was, they winked, and when you asked what happened if a year-rounder hooked up with a summer camper, they chuckled and walked off.)

Chiron gave you an introduction that made you feel like a new kid being asked to tell the class one fun fact about yourself, and around six kids at your table asked if it hurt when you fell down the hill.

Overall, a good first night. As far as first nights at a summer camp for half-gods goes. By the time all the campers had gone back to their respective cabins, you were ready to turn in and clock out for the day.

But you wanted to try one more time. Last attempt, and then you’d let it go.

When Luke — who you had discovered earlier was the counsellor of the Hermes cabin, and apparently a role model for the kids — came over and silently handed you a folded orange shirt with a leather cord sitting on top of it, you smirked.

“Hey, now we can match. How cute.”

He blinked at you, “Everyone is wearing the same thing.”

“The same shirts, you mean.” You tilted your head, “But we’re both wearing green cargos. And white socks. White sneakers.” Your grin widened as you watched his eyes flit down your form, taking in the outfit you had on. You were right — the only difference between you two was the white tank top you had on, soon to be replaced by the shirt he had just handed to you. You thought for a moment that it would work, that he would make a face, or say more than two sentences to you in response.

But he didn’t. He just huffed and walked away, and you watched with an appalled expression. You narrowed your eyes.

Okay, so maybe you weren’t ready to let it go yet.

The next morning, you were rudely awakened by a small child who was sprawled across your torso, having shifted from his own sleeping bag that was beside yours. He couldn’t have been any older than six, his orange camp shirt sitting like a dress on him, and if he wasn’t snoring into your chest, you would’ve thought he was adorable.

But you really needed to pee.

After you slowly but surely lifted him back onto his own pillow, you stood up with a stretch and stepped precariously over the other kids, balancing carefully on the tips of your toes so you didn’t step on any of them. The sun was barely rising, and you were the only one awake, so you held your breath and reached out for the handle of the bathroom door.

“That’s not your bathroom.”

You flinched, losing your balance and toppling back. A hand between your shoulder blades prevented you from crushing any of the kids on the floor, and you steadied yourself before meeting the eyes of the person who spoke.

Luke was staring intently at you, his eyes blinking hard as if he’d only just woken up. He was in nothing but a pair of blue sweat-shorts and you fought the urge to rake your eyes over his bare torso, watching as he lowered his hand back to his side, “That’s the counsellor's bathroom.”

“Right.” Came a low mutter, under your breath. Then louder, you asked, “Well, where is the campers bathroom?”

“Outside.” He answered, “Around the back of the cabins.”

“Out—“ You started, and then realised everyone else was asleep and swiftly lowered your volume, but kept your expression exaggerated. Wide eyes, furrowed brows. “Outside?”

“Yes.”

“But…it’s cold out there.”

“We have a controlled climate.” He said, folding his arms across his chest. His biceps tensed, “It’s never cold.”

You let out a sigh, throwing your thumb over your shoulder and pointing at the door, “Can’t I just use this one? You aren’t using it, and everyone else is asleep, they’d never know!”

He stared at you blankly and stayed silent for a long time. You wouldn’t be surprised if he just never said anything until you walked away, which you were well prepared to do, letting out a deep breath and folding your own arms over to preserve heat as you clambered towards the front door, muttering complaints under your breath the whole time. You made it three feet (or two sleeping bags) away from him when he finally piped up.

“Be quick.”

Turning around, Luke was already making his way back to his own bed, and you ogled shamelessly at his back muscles as you shuffled to his bathroom and made your way inside. You did your business quickly as requested and washed your hands under the low pressure of the sink before cracking the door open once more. The cabin was the same, everyone else still sleeping calmly. Luke was standing by his bunk, now clad in black shorts and his camp shirt. He paid you no mind when you padded back to your sleeping bag, grabbing your bag and stifling through the clothes you had packed.

You walked up to breakfast with the unclaimed girl you had met the previous night — Lana — and listened and she told you intently about the lore of Luke Castellan.

“He never used to be the way he is. He was happier before, always grinning. More than ready to help anyone here. He was…well, everyone either wanted to be with him or be him.”

“And then what happened?”

“He went on a quest. It went wrong. He came back with that ugly scar and he hasn’t been the same since.”

You made a comment that the scar wasn’t ugly, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d add on that it made him look pretty hot. But you did know better, and you knew that Luke was three people ahead of you in the line and could probably hear what you were saying. So you kept that tidbit to yourself and ate your cereal in silence.

When breakfast was over, you stood from the bench and turned, only to stop short when you realised Luke was standing behind you. Looking up at him, you raised a brow, “Yes?”

“I’m showing you around today.”

“You showed me around yesterday.”

His lips tightened, “We’re actually doing stuff today. Seeing what you’re good at.”

“Oh.” You ran your tongue over your teeth and nodded, “Well, where do we start?”

“Archery.”

Turns out, you were pretty awful at archery. Even after you’d stopped firing arrows into the treeline, you still never hit the middle of the target. Lee had to correct your posture four times, and you broke six arrows. Eventually, you decided that Apollo was not your father, and shuffled over to where Luke stood beneath the shade of a tree — where he had been standing the whole hour.

“Y’know, just because you’ve got this broody bad boy thing going on, doesn’t mean you have to linger in the shadows all the time.” You commented, picking at your fingernails and readjusting the long sleeve you wore under your camp shirt, “You just look weird.”

Luke pointed at your cheekbone, “You’re bleeding.”

You huffed, “I know.” You kept holding your bow too close to the side of your face and the feathers of the arrows kept scratching you whenever you let them fly. Lee mentioned how most people make that mistake the first time round, but you’d done it so much that he’d cut your lesson short and told you to get a bandaid from one of his siblings. You didn’t.

He stared at your cut for a moment, like he was thinking hard about something. But he didn’t, and pushed himself off the tree he was leaning against and brushed past you, “Let’s go to the forges.”

You were better at blacksmithing than you were at archery, but the sword Charles Beckendorf was helping you weld still came out wonky and discoloured. He was a nice kid, funny, and your lowered spirits from your previous task had been quickly uplifted despite you not having much skill in his department. He let you keep the sword anyway, and you swung it jokingly at Luke as he led you to the Amphitheater.

You made swooshing noises as you did so, chuckling when he didn’t so much as flinch, “Don’t act so tough, Castellan, I could take you out even with a dodgy sword.”

“You couldn’t.” He muttered, “I’m the best sword fighter here.”

You let out an over dramatic gasp, running ahead and swivelling around so you could meet his eyes, “Holy shit, was that…did you just…tell me something about yourself?” You grinned and his frown deepened, “Aw, Luke. We’re getting somewhere! This is amazing, I’m so proud. Soon enough we’ll be best frien — “

Before you could finish your incessant teasing, Luke grabbed your forearm and yanked you in front of him just as a kid on an out-of-control Pegasus toppled past you. You watched him disappear in mild shock, before looking back at the boy in front of you, “Hey, thanks. Almost got trampled. How embarrassing.”

He narrowed his gaze, “Do you not take anything seriously?”

You shrugged, “Not really. I’d ask you the same question, but…” You made a face. It was obvious that he was very serious, even if he never used to be.

“Let’s go.” Was his boring response, moving swiftly past you and into the Amphitheatre so quickly you would’ve assumed he was trying to get away from you. (Which he definitely was).

You weren’t really all that bothered, not when you were having so much fun pissing him off.

It took all of ten minutes for Luke to put your sword fighting lesson to an end. Not only had you insisted on fighting with the wonky sword rather than a working training one, you also kept pushing him with your hands whenever he got too close.

“That’s not how you’re supposed to do it.”

“Hey, it’s working, isn’t it?”

You were pretty shit at it anyway, so you didn’t fight him when he said you were cutting your lesson short. You simply tucked your weapon onto the sheath he’d handed you and followed him down the hill to the dining pavilion.

“So, where are you from?”

He didn’t answer you for a couple of minutes, something you’d been well prepared for. But you couldn’t help but ask — he intrigued you. A little too much, maybe.

You continued, “Because you seem like a Mass guy.”

Luke stopped in his tracks, turning to you, “Mass…achusetts?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, fighting off your amused smile when he pulled a face. Finally, an expression!

Truth was, Lana had told you he was from Connecticut. You just wanted to see how he’d react, if he would react at all — apparently he isn’t immune to everything.

“I’m from CT.” He made it very clear, and you tried your hardest not to laugh. “Okay? I'm not some Boston Masshole, got it?”

You raised your hands in surrender, “Got it.”

He stared at you for a second longer, as if to ensure you really did have it. Squinting at your amused smile before nodding and continuing his walk. You thought it would go back to silence, but apparently you’d lit a fuse.

“I mean, what makes you think I'm from MA?” He asked, his tone of voice so appalled you’d think he’d been accused of some sort of crime. “Do I smell like shit?”

A chuckle, “What?”

But he just whirled on you once more, lifting his arm and gesturing to his pit, “Do I? Do I stink of shit?”

You didn’t feel like sniffing him, so you just shook your head, still laughing, “No.”

“Then what — ?” He stopped, narrowed his eyes, “Where are you from?”

You tried to hide your smile, but it was getting really difficult. The last two days he’d been nothing but broody and miserable, one word quips being his only form of communication other than dark frowns. But one mention of Mass and he’s suddenly down to chit chat? You couldn’t help but laugh — unfortunately, it only spurred him on.

“You think this is funny?” He scoffed, nodding, “Yeah, bet you’re from Maine too.”

Your laughter continued, little giggles spilling out of you whenever you thought about the situation too hard. You shrugged, “I don’t think I wanna tell you after this.”

Luke nodded like he was expecting you to say that, “Something a Mainer would say, I’m sure.”

You grinned wide, very proud of yourself for getting a visceral reaction out of the boy — even if you had to piss him off to do it. Just as you went to reply with a witty comeback that would have him ranting and raving for the rest of the night, the dinner conch sounded, interrupting what you’re sure would’ve been a very entertaining conversation.

You walked on past him, not stopping, but slowing down so you could cough into your fist, “Flatlander.”

You didn’t look back but you did hear him scoff in shock, and you were sure he stood there frozen for at least twenty seconds because he entered the pavilion way later than you did. He made a point to fix you with an annoyed stare as he sat down a few people away from you — and Chris raised a brow.

“What’d you do to him?”

You shrugged, digging into your mashed potatoes before anyone could tell you to wait until you’d made your offering, “Told him he looked like a Bay Stater.”

He chuckled, wincing under his breath and shaking his head, “You’re evil. I like it.”

You smirked and said nothing — but whenever your eyes flickered over to Luke, his were just flickering away from you.

#@lia’s works #joined a new england subreddit for this fic #so pls give it some love #taking requests #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo

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pierce-the-chemical-sirens · 2 years

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Made a new playlist because breakups are a bitch and I’m trying so hard not let this trigger an episode

#and also because just because east coast punk and emo is inherently better #I’m joking #I’m just biased cuz I grew up in new england #my chemical romance #thursday band #misery! band #kids losing sleep band #leathermouth #two eyes band

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doyoulikethisemoband · 6 months

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#the world is a beautiful place and i am no longer afraid to die #twiabp #midwest emo #post rock #novelty #poetry #alternative rock #emo #bubble grunge #dreamo #indie punk #new england emo #small room #poll #music poll #musicblr #rate your music

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planefood · 11 days

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I like to think the force that makes white boys in New England make miserable emo bands is the same force that makes white boys in Western Australia make psychedelic rock bands

#funnies #Thoughts that come to me while I do school work

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demonrubberduck · 2 years

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Dracula Daily has been a great medium for enhancing the horror and dread anticipation when following Dracula’s victims.

But on on the flip side, Drac is sort of in the middle of a laugh-track comedy.

Dracula arrives in Whitby, full-up on sailor blood. Ugh, he ate so much on vacation, he couldn’t possibly eat more. He accidentally scared an old man to death in dog form, but honestly, hang out at a cemetery at night at your own risk if you’re prone to dying of fear.

Dracula is committed to getting his life set up right here in England. He’s perfected his human disguise with his friend Jonathan, he’s read all the train schedules, nothing is going to fuck this up for him and cause him to backslide

/Enter Lucy, in her nightclothes, sleepwalking directly into his arms.

Dracula, sweating. ‘Well, maybe one little snack for the road…’

/Dracula leaves for London. Flying around at night as a bat, scoping out the new neighborhood, who does he see but that same girl, asleep in front of her open window. Ok, maybe he could eat…

/Drac’s having some impulse control issues. Like, it’s hard to focus with a girl half-eaten. He just needs to finish what he’s got in the fridge, then he’s going on his Normal-Human-Disguise, flying under the radar diet.

He comes back, and somebody’s refilled his Lucy Tupperware with rich hot Englishman blood. Weird.

He comes back again. Topped off with chemically-seasoned emo doctor.

He can’t NOT stop by again. What’s next? Humans don’t just change flavors like this. He’s gotta take a sip and see what blood OS Lucy updated to.

It’s weird old Dutch man.

Tomorrow, he’s decided, he’s not coming back here. He’s in the mood for Tex-Mex, and there’s no way Lucy’s gonna taste like that…

#dracula daily #lucy is the everlasting gobstopper of people

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milfzatannaz · 2 months

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can you tell me the difference between emo and Goth?is punk not the same as goth? I am really confused...How do you tell the difference?

I did not mean this in a hostile way, just confused...

no no babe ur not hostile at all!

emo, punk, and goth are all different subcultures with distinct roots and music. punk, of course, came first, and from that post-punk as a genre was born. punk was a counter-culture youth movement in the 70s that started in England and gave rise to a new type of music, with less emphasis on musicality and more on boundary-pushing and messaging. Punk was very much anti-establishment. post-punk and goth are essentially the same genre. goth as we know it today is known for its dark aesthetic, but it very much came about because of the late 70s music scene. The Batcave in London was the popular venue at the time and early goths were called bat-cavers. bands from this era are Bauhaus, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Specimen, Sisters of Mercy, etc. Very cool stuff!

Emo has its roots in the 2000s and is sort of born from goth, but they diverge heavily. aesthetics can intersect to a small degree but emo music sounds very different from goth. I’m pretty sure (I’m open to corrections I’m not emo myself) that emo encompasses a lot of pop punk and similar genres. A good rule of thumb is that the Sex Pistols are punk, SATB is goth, and MCR is emo

#answered #this is just off the top of my head

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erinsintra · 7 months

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The different species of Weaboos

Yesterday, I was watching this video about all the different sub-types of weebs, and while I do agree on everything said there, I feel like James didn't go far enough down the rabbit hole. So I decided to list a few of the "kinds" of weaboos I have dealt with on the internet.

(James is an awesome guy btw. You should watch his videos)

Weaboos

Possibly the most famous one. These are people - usually American or from other Western or West-leaning countries - that are obsessed with Japanese culture for one reason or another; usually due to overexposition to anime and/or manga. I have to admit, I was a bit of a weeb myself in my emo days, but it didn't go further than that. Some weebs, though, manage to sink down into some bizarre pipeline that turns them into a bizarre version of a Japanese nationalist. They start claming that Japan is the greatest country in the world, and anime is the perfect form of art, and Japanese girls are the epitome of (wo)mankind. It doesn't take long before they also start denying Japanese war crimes and defending their occupation of Korea. How they went from liking anime to endorsing war criminals is beyond me.

Koreaboos

Whilst weaboos are usually teenage boys (with the occasional thirty-something neckbeard thrown in), koreaboos are almost always teenage girls. They are people obssessed with Korean culture (specifically South Kora), or at least their weird version of it. Like weebs, most of their experience (or lack thereof) comes from popular Korean media, like K-pop and Koream dramas. They also love to idolise South Korea, claiming it to be a perfect society full of hot twinks with coloured hair, and as the above example, some of them tend to become political extremists as well. It's kinda funny to me how weebs and koreaboos hate each other due to their obssessive worship of rival countries. I used to know this kpop fangirl who once told me she hated wacthing anime because of what the Japanese did to Korea. That's like, I don't know, refusing to eat a hamburger because of the American Civil War.

Chinaboos

They aren't very common, but they are slowly growing in size as China herself expands her influences. These are people obssessed with Chinese history, Chinese dramas, and Chinese pop songs. I kinda dislike this kind a little less than I dislike the others - mostly because I am a admirer of Chinese culture myself -, but they have this weird tendency to deny the existence of China's misdeeds - while I am yet to see a chinaboo outright deny the Tiananmen square massacre or the Uyghur Genocide, most chinaboos I've met claim that China is and has always been the world's biggest superpower, and "dethroning" America is her fate. Crazy stuff.

I couldn't find a good image to put here, so here's one of Zhang Yong's tweets.

Teaboos

These guys are funny as hell. They're people who are obssesed with the UK, specifically England and the English monarchy. The type of people to stay awake for the entire night watching the new king's coronation, or the queen's funeral. They also frequently endorse the British Empire. I've had people come to me and say to my fucking face that they wished that Britain had colonised our country. People who idolise celebrities are already weird, but foreign politicians? That's a whole other level of screwed up.

Ouiaboos

I will never understand this. People who idolise France, praising their sophisticated culture and their chesse and wine and unpronounceable words. Some also like to endorse Napoleon and claim he was the most influential human being in modern history and an absolute gigachad.

I have never seen ouiaboos defending French colonialism, but I wouldn't be surprised if they did.

Wehraboos

The worse there is. People who idolise the Third Reich and their "efficient way of running things". If they were that efficient, why did they lose the war? They are almost always racist fucks.

Kaiserboos

The older cousin of wehraboos. They idolise the Kaiserreich and love the German monarchy, sometimes Prussia and Bismarck as well. Though not always racist, they usually have quite the controversial opinions on WW1. Guaranteed to be an EU4 or HOI4 player.

Romaboos

I kinda hate those guys for staining the image of Rome. These are people who idolise the Roman Empire, claiming it was the peak of Western civilisation at a time where "men were men" and "things were proper". Have you ever seen an incel on Twitter or Discord whose pfp is a Roman marble statue? That's one of them. They are usually very sexist, racist and homophobic, completely ignoring the fact that Rome was an incredibly diverse empire where homosexuality and gay marriage was about as common as brushing your teeth.

Leeaboos

Named after Confederate general Robert E. Lee, these are people - always Americans, thankfully - who idolise the Confederate States and the American Civil War. Like Wehraboos, they are guaranteed to be racist and sometimes also pro-slavery, claiming that it was an unjust war where the glorious freedom of their rebellious country was suppressed. Nevermind that the Confederacy was a barely-functioning oligarchy that lasted less than a decade.

Imperiaboos

Pretty much the Brazilian version of a leeaboo. They are people who romanticise imperial times and wish for the return of the Brazilian monarchy. They will go on and on about how the Empire was secretly one of the greatest economies in the 19th century (it wasn't), how they had the manpower to conquer the entirety of Latin America if they wished (they didn't), and how they were so cool they even scared off mighty Brittania that one time (which is actually true, though not as glorious as they claim). They are also frequently very racist and pro-slavery. Every time we have a shitty president (which unfortunately happens more often than not), they pop out outta nowhere claiming that "The Emperor would never allow that!" and so on.

Soviaboos

It always striked me as funny how so many soviaboos are of American origin. These people like to endorse the Soviet Union - or, in rare cases, the Russian Empire - claiming that it was the greatest superpower the world had ever seen, and openly wishing for its return. They commonly refer to their friends as "comrades" and tend to idolise Communist symbols and aesthetics in general. Generally very unpleasant to be around, though at least they are anti-capitalist and anti-american imperialism, so that's already a step on the right direction I suppose.

Thank you for reading all of this! I suppose I should get back to writing my novel now.

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 10 months

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Here's a bingo card full of great Klaine fics:

Debut: Days by AllyThePotato

Page Turner: Come Alive by delires

Need Tissues: Stick Season by Blurglesmurfklaine

Unusual Occupation: Witch Wanted by RockItMan

Wild Card: Running in Circles, Coming up Tails by izwordsoup

Summer: Swing, Swing by quizasvivamos

Challenge: Ebb and Flow by maanorchidee

Laugh: these inconvenient fireworks by redheadgleek

Trope I don't normally read: Out of Eden (and the whole 'verse) by wowbright

Thanks for your Bingo card! HERE is the collection (125 fics and counting!) and here is the info for the 2023 Klaine Bingo! ~Lynne

1) Days by AllyThePotato

Blaine lives in San Fransisco, Kurt lives in Lima. They've never met in person, but befriend one another and talk over the phone. They make plans to live in NYC together, but will everything go as planned?

2) Come Alive by delires

1960s NYC: Newly-wed junior advertising exec Blaine Anderson finds a missing piece to his puzzle in the back room of a Manhattan bar. Mad Men era AU.

3) Stick Season by @blurglesmurfklaine

After Finn dies, Kurt leaves everything he knows behind without a trace. His hometown, his family, his boyfriend. When his dad has a medical scare, he returns to Lima, one year after breaking Blaine’s heart with no explanation.

4) Witch Wanted by @rockitmans

Blaine is cursed to not touch anyone, Kurt is the grumpy neighborhood witch. They each have something the other other needs (the thing is love)

5) Running in Circles, Coming up Tails by izwordsoup

Kurt and Adam are married with a seven-year-old daughter, Ellie. "Happily married" is another question. Ellie takes piano lessons from none other than Blaine Anderson, who also happens to be a good friend of Kurt's since college. What happens to them when Adam goes to England to star in a West End musical, leaving Kurt and Ellie in New York? What happens when Blaine becomes a more frequently-seen figure in Kurt and Ellie's lives due to Ellie's piano schedule?

6) Swing Swing by quizasvivamos

The Skanks, Kurt and Quinn, are a thing. Blaine, a bit of a bad boy, is dating that goth girl, Tina. The four best friends are fully immersed in the Emo/Scene subculture, the kids everyone at school calls emo or just plain freaks. As close-knit as a friend group can get, the couples share a lot in common: their love of choir and band, tastes in music and art, partying, going to shows and concerts, getting wasted, and—oh, yeah—each other's partners. They swap sometimes. Because it's cool, and it's hot. Besides, it's just for fun. Then, in the summer before their senior year, they take a life-altering road trip to Cleveland for Warped Tour 2005.

7) Ebb & Flow by maanorchidee

Blaine Anderson is yet another anonymous New Yorker who's trying to get a job in the entertainment industry. His days are filled with auditions, bleak subway rides, piano lessons, and complaining about his annoying next-door-neighbour. But Blaine has a secret that he cannot share with his other friends: he dreams of playing competitive Splatoon 2. He already has a hard time justifying this music degree, so he doesn't need to add an interest in eSports to that. That's why the only person who knows about this, is yet another stranger on the internet named Kurt. The two met in an LGBT Splatoon 2 Discord and became fast friends. Little do they know that they also know each other offline.

8) These Inconvenient Fireworks by redheadgleek

After an unexpected Tony award, Kurt Hummel is Broadway's hottest up and coming star, which comes with expectations and some admirers that won't take a hint. When his best friend Elliott Gilbert suggests that they pretend to date to get the leeches to back off, Kurt takes him up on the idea. It's all working out great - until Kurt starts to fall hard for the dark-haired music director of his latest musical.

9) Out of Eden by @wowbright

As a gay Mormon, Kurt Hummel has decided to go the rest of his life without falling in love. But toward the end of his two years as a missionary in Germany, Elder Anderson moves into his apartment—and Kurt's best-laid plans fall apart.

#2023 Klaine Bingo #Klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #glee fanfiction

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whereserpentswalk · 8 months

Text

Poll to help determine who wins the elections during the final arc of my motw campaign.

It's the summer of two thousand sixteen, and you're a resident of New York city. Strange events have been happening geologically since late twenty twelve. The government has been talking about forces beyond our knowledge, people have gone missing, and now civil war has broken out in Egypt, Britian and New Zealand, with strange talk of them involving ancient gods, vampires, and wizards respectively. And worst of all, from what you know nuclear disaster has claimed St. Luis.

A few weeks ago, mysterious broadcasts have revealed a global conspiracy, and an underground war between those trying to unveil the conspiracy and those trying to maintain it, protests have been sparked throughout downtown Manhattan, the sky has been turned red, and new forces gain power in the city as the American government slowly implodes, and the police are recruited as shock troops by those trying to maintain the veil.

Yesterday it was revealed that the conspiracy was not just one of power, but one of reality, as a fight broke out between protesters utilizing supernatural powers, with a warrior in flaming armor, winged humanoids, and a woman with unnatural speed and invulnerability defended the protests from the police. It has now been revealed that more thinking beings then humanity inhabit this earth, and that magic is provably real, with entire underground neighborhoods existing below the city surface that house many of these beings.

With any semblance of a human government gone, the rebellion against the veil is now holding elections to see who will lead the city after the war is won.

Your Current candidates are:

The Sun Mage- The man who started the rebellion to reveal the magical world to humanity, a sorcerer who defected at the age of nineteen, having trekked across the country, and lost a leg in defense of his cause. He has been known to be idealistic, rejecting formal structure, and refusing to have any sort of headquarters beyond his apartment in Chelse. He's popular among commoners, both in the underground and the surface world, but the military and higher ups in the revolution are skeptical of his ability to organize properly. He appears as a young man, usually wearing a long coat and hat, with a hook prosthetic leg, tan skin, and long hair.

Claire Adams- A human who was once part of a monster hunter organization (seeming tied to several Ivy Legue schools) that maintained the veil, she helped push her organization into the rebellion, and championed radical praxis in order to break the veil and militarization of the rebellion. She is probably the most radical of the rebels, embracing full rights for creatures thought to be dangerous to humanoids, such as vampyrs, demigods and lycanthropes, and possibly even supporting the restructuring of the economy to distribute wealth away from species privileged under the old system and fully integrate humanity into the magical world. She appears as a young woman with pale skin and black hair, seeming to be part of the emo/scene subculture, and usually wearing her full monster hunter equipment and crossbow.

High king Maryanne Obelisk- Once a normal human girl who tried to avenge her brother who was killed for disobeying an order from a sorcerer, she lost her humanity in her quest for vengeance, being bitten by the previous king of vampyrs (Arthur Pendragon) and taking his throne after defeating him and banishing him to England. She is one of humanity's, and many other downtrodden species, biggest defenders, once having been living proof of humanity's competence in the face of magic. She's been the one most willing to respond to disasters, though she has known to be ruthless, and the vampyrs working under her might not share her sense of justice. She is the most beloved of the leaders among human activists. Like all vampyrs, she appears as a humanoid with white scales, a large snake like mouth, and black eyes.

Elric of Vinland- a travel from an unknown place, possibly forwards, backwards or sideways in time (though such things are mysterious even to mages). He's been one of the most aggressive warriors of the rebellion, traveling across the world to start and aid uprisings, and make previously hostile factions sympathetic. Most famously, he helped attack the sorcerer's academies by helping enslaved elves rise up against their masters. He is in direct Legue with the gods, being a paladin of Hel and Lilith, and seems to have experience as a military leader and political actor from wherever he was from. Though the rest of the rebellion has been skeptical of him, commoners amoung humanity and creature alike seem to like him. He appears as a young man with strawberry blond hair, having lost his hearing and disfigured his hands in previous battles, he often wears a futuristic looking uniform, and is able to spawn burning armor when going into battle.

Dr Robert Coleridge- a human handed one of the five most powerful magic items on earth by Jesus of Naseerah (a powerful lich and son of Zeus), transforming him into an ageless genderless being with dominion over magic. He seems to be the most kindhearted of all the leaders of the rebellion, being slow to violence and not wanting to use his powers as a weapon. He's taken power among the harpies, who were once the bankers of the magical world, but have since become the main force funding the rebellion. He does not want to be elected, which might be what makes him the best man for the job. He appears as an unnaturally beautiful androgynous being with glowing eyes, usually wearing a button-down shirt and bowtie.

Grand Inquisitor Espen Hunter- a sorcerer who once was a high-ranking military officer among the forces trying to maintain the veil, who switched sides out of principle when the sorcerous government planned to commit acts of terror and genocide against harpy populations and began conscripting children into the inquisition as part of the late war effort. He is still skeptical of many the rebellion's ideals but will side with them over genocide. For better or worse, he is slow to implement ideas until they are well proven to him. Though other than possibly Elric, he is the cantante with the most experience in government, and other then Robert he's the only candidate above twenty-five. He appears as a warrior in archaic armor, wielding a mace in one hand as a spell in the other, a mask covers his face which was disfigured by an attack spell.

We're sorry you have to vote for people you didn't know existed until now, but this was the only way.

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