#greater than relief | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

palipunk · 2 years

Text

Palestine Masterlist

Introduction to Palestine:

Decolonize Palestine:

Palestine 101

Rainbow washing

Frequently asked questions

Myths

IMEU (Institute for Middle East Understanding):

Quick Facts - The Palestinian Nakba

The Nakba and Palestinian Refugees

The Gaza Strip

The Palestinian catastrophe (Al-Nakba)

Al-Nakba (documentary)

The Hundred Years’ War on Palestine: A History of Settler Colonialism and Resistance, 1917-2017 (book)

The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine (book)

Nakba Day: What happened in Palestine in 1948? (Article)

The Nakba did not start or end in 1948 (Article)

Donations and charities:

Al-Shabaka

Electronic Intifada

Adalah Justice Project

IMEU Fundraiser

Medical Aid for Palestinians

Palestine Children’s Relief Fund

Addameer

Muslim Aid

Palestine Red Crescent

Gaza Mutual Aid Patreon

Books:

A New Critical Approach to the History of Palestine

The Idea of Israel: A History of Power and Knowledge

Hidden Histories: Palestine and the Eastern Mediterranean

The Balfour Declaration: Empire, the Mandate and Resistance in Palestine

Queer Palestine and the Empire of Critique

From Haven to Conquest: Readings in Zionism and the Palestine Problem until 1948

Captive Revolution - Palestinian Women's Anti-Colonial Struggle within the Israeli Prison System

Palestine: A Four Thousand Year History

Except for Palestine: The Limits of Progressive Politics

Before Their Diaspora: A Photographic History of The Palestinians 1876-1948

The Battle for Justice in Palestine Paperback

Uncivil Rites: Palestine and the Limits of Academic Freedom

Palestine Rising: How I survived the 1948 Deir Yasin Massacre

The Transformation of Palestine: Essays on the Origin and Development of the Arab-Israeli Conflict

A Land Without a People: Israel, Transfer, and the Palestinians 1949-1996

The Iron Cage: The Story of the Palestinian Struggle for Statehood

A History of Modern Palestine: One Land, Two Peoples

Where Now for Palestine?: The Demise of the Two-State Solution

Terrorist Assemblages - Homonationalism in Queer Times

Militarization and Violence against Women in Conflict Zones in the Middle East

The one-state solution: A breakthrough for peace in the Israeli-Palestinian deadlock

The Persistence of the Palestinian Question: Essays on Zionism and the Palestinians

Fateful Triangle: The United States, Israel and the Palestinians

The False Prophets of Peace: Liberal Zionism and the Struggle for Palestine

Ten myths about Israel

Blaming the Victims: Spurious Scholarship and the Palestinian Question

Israel and its Palestinian Citizens - Ethnic Privileges in the Jewish State

Palestinians in Israel: Segregation, Discrimination and Democracy

Greater than the Sum of Our Parts: Feminism, Inter/Nationalism, and Palestine

Palestine Hijacked

Palestinian Culture:

Mountain against the Sea: Essays on Palestinian Society and Culture

Palestinian Costume

Traditional Palestinian Costume: Origins and Evolution

Tatreez & Tea: Embroidery and Storytelling in the Palestinian Diaspora

Embroidering Identities: A Century of Palestinian Clothing (Oriental Institute Museum Publications)

The Palestinian Table (Authentic Palestinian Recipes)

Falastin: A Cookbook

Palestine on a Plate: Memories from My Mother's Kitchen

Palestinian Social Customs and Traditions

Palestinian Culture before the Nakba

Tatreez & Tea (Website)

The Traditional Clothing of Palestine

The Palestinian thobe: A creative expression of national identity

Embroidering Identities:A Century of Palestinian Clothing

Palestine Traditional Costumes

Palestine Family

Palestinian Costume

Encyclopedia of World Dress and Fashion, v5: Volume 5: Central and Southwest Asia

Tent Work in Palestine: A Record of Discovery and Adventure

Documentaries, Films, and Video Essays:

Jenin, Jenin

Born in Gaza

GAZA

Wedding in Galilee

Omar

5 Broken Cameras

OBAIDA

Indigeneity, Indigenous Liberation, and Settler Colonialism (not entirely about Palestine, but an important watch for indigenous struggles worldwide - including Palestine)

Edward Said - Reflections on Exile and Other Essays

Palestine Remix:

AL NAKBA

Gaza Lives On

Gaza we are coming

Lost cities of Palestine

Stories from the Intifada

Last Shepherds of the Valley

Voices from Gaza

Muhammad Smiry

Najla Shawa

Nour Naim

Wael Al dahdouh

Motaz Azaiza

Ghassan Abu Sitta

Refaat Alareer (murdered by Israel - 12/7/2023. Inna lillahi wa inna ilayhi raji'un)

Plestia Alaqad

Bisan Owda

Ebrahem Ateef

Mohammed Zaanoun

Doaa Mohammad

Hind Khoudary

Palestinian Voices, Organizations, and News

Boycott Divest and Sanction (BDS)

Defense for Children in Palestine

Palestine Legal

Palestine Action

Palestine Action US

United Nations relief and works for Palestinian refugees in the Middle East (UNRWA)

National Students for Justice in Palestine (SJP)

Times of Gaza

Middle East Eye

Middle East Monitor

Mohammed El-Kurd

Muna El-Kurd

Electronic Intifada

Dr. Yara Hawari

Mariam Barghouti

Omar Ghraieb

Steven Salaita

Noura Erakat

The Palestinian Museum N.G.

Palestine Museum US

Artists for Palestine UK

Eye on Palestine

#Palestine #free palestine #palestine masterlist #apartheid #settler colonialism #links #donation post #BDS #Middle East #Palestinian liberation #palestinian culture #long post #resources #dcip #gaza

49K notes · View notes

somegrapes · 1 year

Text

i could have the best sleep that science can produce, but if my mind decides I want a bad dream I will wake up worse than when I went to sleep

I would like it to stop please

#there is no greater relief than knowing it was a dream #but it doesn’t stop me from thinking over it

0 notes

finniestoncrane · 11 days

Text

Ain't So Bad

Cooper Howard x Fem!Reader, word count: 1.1k i want this man to do horrible things to me, i want him to tell me he'll make sure i'm ok when i know full well he's the most dangerous thing around, he's driving me INSANE anyway i'll have a softer thing for him soon!! 🤎 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: dubcon/noncon, restraints, use of 'no' but reader is quick to do as told, restraints, slight threat, gun mention, hair pulling

The sun had thankfully almost set, the long shadows cast by it a welcome relief, though it did mean that night was coming, along with the threats that were its constant companion. But you always assumed you were safe, travelling with your own companion. Especially when that companion was Cooper Howard. Charming, despite his foul attitude that put most people off. Handsome, at least to you, and much to the disappointment of the more ‘reserved’ folks you came across out in the wasteland. And you felt lucky, most of the time, to consider him yours. But you suspected that, while he kept the danger away, that there was a reason for that.

Even predators had something they were afraid of. There was always a greater evil.

And as the darkness fell, his silhouette lit only by the small fire in the corner of the roofless room, you began to realise that Cooper was a lot more dangerous than you had let yourself come to terms with.

“Cooper, wait… we’re not safe enough, I don’t…”

You trailed off, aware that your words were falling on deaf ears as Cooper dragged his dry lips across your cheek, grazing his teeth against the skin as you felt him pushing you backwards, your spine straightening against the crumbling wall behind you.

“It ain’t so bad out here… certainly won’t be when you see what I’ve got in store for you.”

“Please, Cooper… no, Coop, I can’t-”

Interrupted by your own sharp inhale, you held the breath as you watched Cooper’s eyes settled on yours, your hands above you head against the wall, his hands tight around your wrists, preventing you from holding him back any further.

“I’m here to keep you safe, darlin’. You’ll be fine.”

His words meant very little against what you knew was lurking out there, and your nerves pushed your protests out of your clamping throat.

“But Cooper, you know I get scared… I don’t want to do this, not here.”

“Well too bad, missy…”

He lifted your hands and slammed them back down again, watching as you winced at the dull pain.

“… it ain’t like there’s a nice place I can take a girl like you for something like this…”

Cooper’s grip loosened, one of his hands leaving yours as he fumbled with the belt on his pants. You could have easily pulled away, but you didn’t. You couldn’t be sure why, and you chose not to linger on that thought, luckily distracted from it as Cooper’s unbuckled belt clanged, his eyes back towards you.

“…Now, are you going to be a good girl and take it?”

The free hand now drifted to his hip, pushing back his long coat, his palm lazily resting on the holstered gun by his side before he continued speaking. Slowly, clearly, in a low, guttural tone.

“Or am I gonna have to be a bad man and take. It.”

His stare penetrated you, like he could see through your skull to the wall you were trapped against. Your chest seemed to stay completely still despite the deep breaths you took. When you tried to speak, your tongue stayed flat, your lips trembling, nothing but a squeak of air managing to pass between you.

“I asked you a question.”

All you offered was a stuttered mumble and a sheepish nod of your head, a smile offered to you by Cooper as he kicked your legs apart with his muddy boot. Two gloved fingers teased at the front of your pants, pulling them away from skin before sinking below the waistband and brushing against your thickened lips. Excitement, adrenaline, fear. All of it passed over you in a heartbeat, your heart fluttering as he removed his hands from you. Bringing the fingers to his lips, he bit down on the leather with his yellowed teeth, tearing off the glove and tossing it to the ground. His fingers were back down quickly, spreading apart your folds. His uncovered fingers delved inside of you, only briefly, before he withdrew that small modicum of pleasure from the otherwise intense and nerve-wracking situation.

As he separated himself from you, your back arched involuntarily away from the wall, your body betraying your protests as you ached for more of his touch.

“My, my… you sure were fussing a lot for someone who is clearly enjoying themselves…”

Bringing his two fingers up, he spread them apart, watching carefully as your slick stretched in long strands between them.

“Bend over.”

“Cooper, wait, please, I-”

Gripping your waist, Cooper knocked you off balance and let you fall to the floor, a cloud of dust rising up around you.

“I done enough waitin’, darlin’.”

As you struggled to get onto all fours, you felt yourself knocked once more, cheek slamming to the ground as your arms were pulled up behind your back. You could feel the rope tightening around your skin, your wrists bound together and stuck against your spine.

“Now listen, you just lie there…”

He leaned down, whispering into your ear, his hot breath tingling you, making the hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“… and try to keep quiet.”

Behind you, Cooper fell to his knees, pulling down his own pants before turning his attention to yours, uncovering just enough of you that he knew he could slip himself between your thighs and into your wet, warm cunt without leaving either of you too vulnerable to any surprise guests.

Once his other glove was off, you could feel his palm sliding up your back, cracked nails scratching at the nape of your neck before his fingers gripped your hair. Your back contorted as he lifted your face from the ground, positioning you perfectly for his curved cock, lubed with his own drool which he let drip down from his lips in a long, lewd strand, to slide inside of you with little mercy. He pounded into you once, setting the tone for the rest of the encounter you had to endure.

But he hadn’t lied.

“Just a little longer, darlin’, we’ll have you back on two legs… just hng gimme… ah… fuck, that’s it…”

His brutal pace, the way he was so desperately trying to get to the conclusion, the relief, the pain of the stretch, the heat in your own chest that made you moan in response to the way his cock pulsed within your walls.

But he was true to his word.

Because while one hand was tugging at the hair, fingernails scratching your scalp, his hips bucking into your body, knocking you forward and into the ground, his other hand clutched the shotgun, finger teasing the trigger, tempted to send shots into the air at his climax, but ready to defend you both against anyone, or anything, that threatened to interrupt him.

“See, darlin’… not so bad after all.”

#fallout #fallout amazon #x reader #finnie writes #cooper howard #the ghoul #fallout fic #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard fanfiction #cooper howard one shot #cooper howard smut #cooper howard imagine #fallout tv #fallout tv series #walton goggins #cooper howard x fem!reader

1K notes · View notes

androideql · 1 year

Text

🪱 wurm

#every once in a while it kind of dawns on me that im not that good at the things i take pride in #and trying to stay proud becomes like running on shaky legs #in the sense that i will try because giving up would be admiting defeat #but all i can think about is stopping to get relief #it would be so easy to beat myself up because im not up to par #there's shame in movement and shame in wanting to admit to myself that maybe im not cut out for these things #but how could i dare think of stopping when everyone i look up to has gone through the same pain as me?#i dont want to think of myself as weak minded #so i keep at it #and i do my best to forget how easy it was not to be seen and compared #and i try to forget how much easier it was to see no one other than myself #because the smallness of that world was the biggest blow i ever dealt to myself and the biggest weakness i let grow #and maybe my biggest pride in the end is the care i put into not making the same mistakes again #so in the end it's a matter or remembering that im enduring a smaller pain to avoid a greater one #anyway im actually doing fine im just...#feeling a little introspective?#big scares tend to amplify that #i might delete this later after ive slept

0 notes

eamour · 4 months

Text

dream the dream.

think of your life as a dream. think of all of the things surrounding you as objects who are completely under your control and can only do, say and move according to your commands — because that’s what it is! a dream only you are entirely in charge of.

postscript before you dive into this post, i would like to give credits to edward art as this post has been inspired by his lecture "dream the dream" which is the 17th part of his series on reddit!

this is your dream.

this dream belongs to you as you are its dreamer. what you think of appears the second it comes to your mind. you can do anything you want, simply because you can dream anything you want. you can witness anything you want, you can experience anything you want, you can even incorporate your senses and see, feel, taste, smell and touch things to your liking. being able to dream any dream gives you a feeling of relief, of power, of confidence and certainty. you know you can have anything you want the minute you want it. but what if you felt this exact way about THIS life?

dream a greater dream.

if you can imagine anything you want, go into as much detail as you like and make it come to pass, why wouldn’t you do it? wouldn’t it be your greatest desire to explore what you are capable of doing? what would you dream of? what would you imagine? what would you create?

the transformative dream.

see, this dream of yours is as malleable and as changeable as it gets. you cannot make any "mistakes" since anything you create, you can correct. you aren’t tied to anything, there are no promises between you and your creation, you owe nothing and nobody anything. everything can easily be transformed and adjusted. the world is at your command!

imagine the feeling.

what i would advise you to do is to imagine and "dream" as if everything you are now desiring to have is present. it’s here. it exists. and it’s yours, in this given moment.

get rid of the outer world and anything physical that depicts and obstacle or unfavourable circumstance to you.

let go of the idea to "try to manifest", to "hope to get", to "wish to have" or to "want to be".

and last but not least, change your inner-world, your imagination, your DREAM to your deepest wish and make it a reality. start to live your desires.

everything is a feeling.

the reason i said to no longer "try to manifest", to "hope to get", to "wish to have" or to "want to be" is because all of these are FEELINGS. feelings that declare you are not in possession of what you want, at least not yet. "affirming to get", "trying to resolve", "manifesting against", "attempting to make something happen", "intending to manifest" are all feelings that will accompany you once you enter the act of imagination — and guess what? they are more than likely to prevent and disrupt you from actually feeling the way you would want to feel.

dream from within.

i know, we technically all already "dream from within" but with "within" i'm actually referring to what or who you deeply and truly wish to have or be. dream from a place where you don’t accept less than you want, where you are unwilling to settle for less and where you simply cannot hold back from imagining what you want to its greatest detail.

a word to the dreamer.

be bold. be stubborn. leave the world as it is for there is nothing to do and nothing to force on the outside. all the change that you could want has to come and be done from within. so only deal with your inner world and promise yourself that you will only let yourself imagine things which are beneficial for you and accept it as your one and only reality. as edward art said, KNOW your power and FEEL your abilities to be true and infinite!

with love, ella.

2K notes · View notes

skyscrapergods · 3 months

Note

do ponies ever give gifts or make sacrifices to the alicorns?

or did they use to do that and they just were like “stop it it doesn’t do anything”

Gods are powered by belief in them, and their powers are linked to what exactly those beliefs are.

The Sun was long regarded as sublime and benevolent. And she was, as long as she remembered to care about ponies. But as she towered above them, she often forgot to think about mortals while she thought about the planet as a whole, ecosystems and the heavens. Fearing they would be forgotten, the population turned to more and more desperate rituals to command her attention and favor.

Celebrations to her name did more than summon her; they gave her power. Summer sun parties, gift giving, and community feasts caused the nourishing warmth of sunlight. Hospitals erected in her name lent healing touch to the mind in the morning rays. The grander the festival, the more attention The Sun paid. You would surely be blessed with long days and beautiful sunsets as thanks for the artisans crafting stained glass windows for her churches.

Not every pony was happy with happiness. They wanted more. With greater gifts and more breathtaking rituals, surely they could turn her favor toward them and command her aid in matters of war.

The sacrifices began.

They got what they wanted, in the end. The Sun turned her attention on their alters stained with blood and pools running red.

She was not pleased with this new form of worship. She was not pleased with the powers it weaved into her feathers, with the new nature of her lifegiving light.

She smote them all.

In the reeling black of burning villages, she wondered what she had done. She could not wash their stain from her essence. Her act of wrath had cemented their violence into her very being.

Now the sunlight shriveled, it seared, it dried and droughted. To the creatures she loved so much, it caused burns and other illnesses of the flank. She had become one with fire.

The harshness of her love never faded. Society had to adapt. Agriculture now required levies and aqueducts to irrigate the fields and keep the plants from burning. Shade needed to be brought to outdoor events. Flighted ponies created blankets in the sky to give relief from the punishing radiation.

Today, all of this seems normal. Of course the sun burns, that's how it's always been. It seems like such an inevitable part of life that it's hard to remember we caused it.

But we must remember. We must remember to never go there again. We must keep our worship kind, and remember that pain is not holy. Suffering is not divine. Death begets death and fear begets fear. Do not hurt each other for the sake of your god, and do not hurt yourselves.

She doesn't like it.

#skyscraper gods lore #skyscraper gods #fic #ask #alicorn lore #ssg celestia #ssg alicorns #ssg gods

1K notes · View notes

castielmacleod · 2 years

Text

Me when I see Crowstiel content that reduces their entire relationship to sex

#My posts #I swear to christ I will freely admit that 99% of the time when I’m posting about this ship it’s all from my head and how I imagine them but #Even the BARE MINIMUM stagnant comic relief rubbish that we got in canon portrays them with more nuance than the fandom does #A fandom that literally prides itself on “bettering” and adding greater nuance to canon #And perhaps it’s my mistake for getting genuinely earnestly soft about this ship of all ships but regardless—#You people will post the most dehumanising fetishistic sexualised shit about these two that I have ever seen #So much content for them is genuinely unsettling to me on a deeply personal level #I hate you all so much fr

0 notes

asharaks · 2 months

Text

karlach's cutscene after killing gortash never ever fails to destroy me man like....it's so. yeah. she's spent ten years fighting and killing and desperately hoping and then-

-that's it. he's dead, and he's no fucking sorrier now than he was then. it's so bleak, and it's so real and raw, it just breaks my gay little heart. like yeah - you kill the bad guy, and there's no relief in it; no closure, no cure, no wiping away the years of suffering. it doesn't make it better (it doesn't make it worse); you spend your life waiting for this moment, and it passes like every other moment.

gortash would never have apologised. karlach always knew he wouldn't, never expected an apology, but that line (he's no fucking sorrier now than he was then) says it all: she wanted one. she was owed one. and gortash, king of entitlement, king of right by might, would never have given it up. his last words are him begging you to protect him from the woman he wronged, desperately trying to convince you that his value as an ally is greater than her right as a victim.

and you kill him, and karlach's left to reckon with everything he did to her. no more quest for revenge, no more goal to drive towards: just herself, and her impending death.

i love it so much as a revenge narrative, because there's no judgement towards her - no "kill him and you're as bad as he is" - because how could she possibly be?? but all the same, as justified as she is, as wronged as she's been, it doesn't go away when he dies. she still has to face the end alone, and it breaks my heart. because so often, there is no closure: the people who wrong us don't apologise, there is no last-minute cure, no moment where it all makes sense.

he's dead, and he's no fucking sorrier now than he was then.

#and ofc the performance. ten million awards for samantha béart #genuinely my favourite of the companion quest resolutions #karlach's quest is vastly underwhelming she is underutilised as a character and her questlines are mostly boring fetch quests #but that scene. jesus fucking christ that scene #screams #bg3 #karlach

1K notes · View notes

taylorswiftstyle · 3 months

Text

66th Annual Grammy Awards | Los Angeles, CA | February 4, 2024

Schiaparelli gown

In my eyes, a Schiaparelli look should be an uncontested slam dunk. So for this look to, in my opinion, not fly quite as high as befits the beautiful work of Daniel Roseberry is almost a greater disappointment than an average look on its own. To opt for a designer that is known for its surrealism and its beautifully eerie ethereal strangeness but to tamp it down to what I mistook as a Vivienne Westwood gown and strip it of any possible Schiaparelli beautiful weirdness feels like a huge missed opportunity. Especially when it could have really been magical and interesting and a fashion risk for Taylor.

But I also understand that she had a vision. And she molded the designer to fit her and that vision.

It’s a look that I feel falls on an Easter Egg’s sharpened sword. The draping akin to tangled bedsheets, the Victorian cameo-esque appearance of the watch choker from afar, the dramatic opera gloves, the corset back, and the black and white colour scheme feel pulled from (or inspired by) what we now know is the forthcoming album formerly known as ‘TS11’: Tortured Poets Department. And if Taylor’s admission that this project has been in the works for the last two years is anything to go by, it also throws into sharp relief the schoolgirl plaids, the dark academia loafers, and the shadowy colour palette her street style has often centered on in recent months.

There are so many beautiful elements to pull apart here that feel sacrificial in the name of early evocation of what could be a scholarly-sounding (or perhaps sapient-sounding) album based on the cover and intro language. The gown has a beautiful shape (the waist cinching!) and is a fascinating colour choice that could read suffragette or bride depending on who’s asked (and isn’t that in itself an intentional diametric “Lavender Haze” worth dissecting?). But the black accessories (presumably in service of Tortured Poets) overcooks it. I think a low bun, single strand of diamonds, and closed toe pumps could have gone a long way in styling (I’ll let the trendy gloves stay - in combination with the white gown they’re giving Princess Kate at the BAFTAs, no?).

The biggest point of all is that Taylor understands the connect between her music and her style (I should know - I spend 350+ pages talking about it in my upcoming book Taylor Swift Style: Fashion Through the Eras). She also understands the role her style plays in cementing moments in her career to milestones. This moment. This gown. It joins a trio of looks as her most memorable and significant: her AOTY wins. This look will forever be enshrined in slideshows depicting the new precedent she has set for any artist - male or female. And what a win it is for an album I love so much. Knowing that, it feels even more fascinating to me that she’d use this moment as a bridge to another project and not honouring the album in question.

Worn with: Lorraine Schwartz jewelry and Giuseppe Zanotti heels

Photos by Matt Winkelmeyer and Gilbert Flores via Getty Images

#taylor swift #award #dress #schiaparelli #february 2024 #grammys

598 notes · View notes

wlntrsldler · 2 months

Text

i. busy streets and busy lives, and all we know is touch and go. | luke castellan | state of grace

fourteen-year-old luke castellan develops a crush on the pretty girl who shows him a type of kindness he'd never experienced before.

athena!reader x luke castellan. not canon compliant, no betrayal. happy ending luke :)

series masterlist | previous | next

fourteen-year-old luke castellan was apprehensive to let go of annabeth’s hand. the small girl just healed from her injuries following their arrival to camp. she showed no sign that she was physically not okay, but luke could still feel her shaking. they’d both just lost thalia, a companion, a friend, who they faced the scariest things with, far greater than any of their imaginations could conjure up combined. luke didn’t think it was a good idea for her to be sent off to cabin 6 just yet, away from him.

“s’kay, luke,” annabeth tugged on his hand. he looked down at her, finding no trace of nervousness on her features. instead, she had an eager smile on her face as mr. d and chiron waited for her to walk across the stone path to meet her siblings. “i’m not going far.”

oh, luke realized. he was the one shaking.

he put on his brave face, telling himself that he had to be strong for his sister, but he knew deep down, he probably needed annabeth more than she needed him. the girl looked excited to be with her real siblings, and luke was being selfish keeping her away from them. he’d just lost so much already; his childhood, his sanity, at one point, his mom, thalia, and letting go of beth’s hand felt like he was giving up. he just needed something to live for, something bigger than his survival.

luke crouched down to get eye-level with her, smiling softly, “if you need anything, i’m just a few doors down, ‘kay? whatever you need, little beth.”

“i know,” she giggled, innocence in her eyes. she didn’t quite understand why her brother was being dramatic about it. they were safe now.

luke ruffled her hair, making her squeal, before getting up. he gave a courteous nod to chiron and mr. d, taking hold of beth’s hand again as he walked towards the two children of athena waiting across the way.

luke didn’t miss the way annabeth’s eyes sparkled at the buildings around her. she pointed out the intricacies of the columns lining the exteriors of some of the cabins, marveling at the vines that engulfed the walls of cabin 4. luke wondered if he was ever this small, if he ever found the beauty in the small things the same way that annebeth did. perhaps, in memories that are lost and locked away in the back of his mind, he used to be like her.

annabeth looked happy here, safe. luke let out a breath of relief that he didn’t know he was holding in. he’d given up on a life other than survival a long time ago. since he was nine, he’d been running from everything all on his own. then he met thalia and he didn’t feel so alone anymore. and meeting annabeth, well, he found a new reason to keep going after that. she was too young to have experienced all of this. if he couldn’t protect his own innocence, maybe he could protect hers as much as he possibly could.

“you must be annabeth,” you smiled at her, crouching down to her height the same way luke just did. “i’m y/n. i’m so glad to have a new sister.”

“yeah, i’m annabeth. nice to meet you,” annabeth removed her hand from luke’s grasp, reaching over to shake your hand. your eyebrows raised in surprise, pleased at her manners, and accepted her handshake. she pointed at luke, “this is my brother, luke.”

the boy beside you, holding a clipboard, furrowed his eyebrows. he flipped through the notes he had on his board, “i was told there was only one child of athena.”

“yeah, no, i- i’m a child of hermes,” luke shook his head, the name of his father tasted bitter on his tongue. he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, “she just means it like metaphorically? is that the word? we-we’re not actually related.”

you stood up, eyes darting between him and beth. luke’s eyes met yours and he couldn’t help but flush under your stare. he’d seen pretty girls before; in line at a grocery store while he stuffed his pockets with stolen twinkies and chips, in the mall where he’d sit at sometimes to get away from the harsh weather outside, even on his way to see chiron and mr. d when he got a glimpse of aphrodite’s daughters, but he’d never seen anyone like you before.

you had a commanding presence about you, like you had the answers to everyone’s questions and knew what was best for everyone, but it wasn’t intimidating at all. one look at you and luke knew you were a leader, one that led with grace and empathy and blessed with a face of an angel. you had soft features, kind eyes, high cheeks like you didn’t go a day without smiling, and hair that framed your face perfectly. he wouldn’t be surprised if people didn’t hesitate to follow you to the ends of the world if you asked them to. he was about ready to do that and he’d only just met you.

you grinned at him, the crinkles by your eyes appearing, “but she’s your sister.”

the smile that he returned to you was effortless. he glanced down at annabeth, nudging her, “but she’s my sister. annoying, but my sister, nonetheless.”

“hey!”

you and luke laughed at her harmless protest, sharing a look with each other that nobody else caught. the boy next to you, who unenthusiastically introduced himself as oliver, tucked his clipboard under his arm and motioned for all of you to start walking to the cabin.

“luke,” oliver said, stopping his tracks, “we can take it from here. i’m sure you want to get some rest in your cabin after the 48 hours you just had.”

luke wanted to say no. he didn’t want to leave annabeth yet. he would rather sit through long, droning minutes of learning about athena’s cabin, though he had no use for it since he won’t be living there, than retreat to the hermes cabin. but he also didn’t want to seem weak, clinging onto a seven-year-old girl when he should be perfectly fine on his own. annabeth said so herself, she wasn’t going far.

you lived up to your angel-like demeanor when you spoke for him. you noticed the flash of panic in his eyes as he took in oliver’s words. you cleared your throat, “rest is for losers, oli. plus, the more the merrier. i say luke should come with us.”

oliver huffed, but nodded, continuing his steps to cabin 6. you fell into a rhythm with him, conversing about camp activities that luke wasn’t too familiar with yet. annabeth trudged happily beside him, silent as she stared out into the view of camp. luke had to pull her by her shirt to stop her from running into things, her excitement getting the best of her.

as oliver began his rant about some ares kid, you turned your head to sneak a glance at him and annabeth. luke felt his chest tighten when you smiled at him, all teeth and sunshine, before returning to your conversation with your brother.

annabeth tapped luke’s hip, “i like her.”

luke couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he looked down at her. his cheeks hurt from smiling so much, “me too.”

luke wished he could say that the rest of his introduction to camp half-blood was as pleasant and nice as his interaction with you, but the rowdy cabin he was met with after he left annabeth in cabin 6 was something that he was not prepared for. unlike the athena cabin, where things were neat and put together, scrolls and books lining the walls, the hermes cabin was a mess.

there were clothes thrown everywhere, makeshift beds in every corner of the cabin, and dozens of kids, claimed and unclaimed, running around. luke wanted to punch oliver across his face because how on earth was he supposed to get some “rest” with all of this going on?

luke sighed, adjusting the bag on his shoulder as he searched for an empty bed. much to his dismay, the only bed available was the one right next to the entrance. he tried not to think about how little sleep he’d be getting with the door slamming open and shut with how many kids seemed to live in this place.

luke rolled his eyes, watching his siblings jump on the beds as they chased each other. none of them seemed to notice that he arrived, that he was new, but he learned from you earlier that too many half-bloods came and went in the hermes cabin. they were probably used to seeing unfamiliar faces and didn’t bother to introduce themselves anymore.

with a silent groan, luke lay on his bed, trying to drown out the noise of laughter by pushing his thin pillow against his ears. the noise wasn’t unwelcomed, per se, but it was just foreign to him. he’d spent countless nights falling asleep to the sound of coos from animals in the woods and the sound of hushed echoes in the caves he called home. he’d slept through the roaring of the train tracks by his head and the sound of city noise outside his window when he managed to sneak into an empty motel room. he’d slept through the feeling of imminent danger, but never this. he doesn’t remember the last time he slept to the sounds of children laughing.

he probably got a few minutes of rest before the cabin door swung open. the children quickly quieted down, which made luke get up from his position on his bed, ready to thank whoever it was that got his siblings to calm down. of course, luke wasn’t surprised when you were standing at the door, arms crossed over your chest.

“come on, guys,” you tutted, shaking your head. “can’t you see someone is trying to rest? luke is new here and you’re not making a good first impression.”

mumbles of apologies rang through the cabin before they all scurried out the door, all blushing in embarrassment as you sent them a look of faux disappointment. you walked over to luke, stopping at the foot of his bed. he sat up straighter, rubbing the tiredness out of his eyes.

“sorry about them,” you grimaced, “they have too much energy for their own good sometimes, but you’ll grow to love them. i swear it.”

“yeah, they’re cute.”

you couldn’t help but snort at the sarcasm in his voice. you motioned for the seat beside him on his bed and luke moved over to give you more space. you were so close to him that he could feel the heat of your skin radiating off you. “i take it your first day hasn’t been the best?”

“it’s been… okay,” he trailed off, suddenly self-conscious. his curls were a mess on his head and he’s sure the pillow he had against his face left an imprint. “just a lot to take in, i guess.”

“i get that,” you said, taking off your shoes to sit criss-cross on his bed. luke thought the cartoon owls on your socks were charming. “i remember my first day here and how chaotic it was. i would love to tell you that it stops being like that after a while, but i’d be lying and i don’t want to start off our relationship on a lie.”

luke knew that what you meant by “relationship” was platonic, with no romantic connotations, but he was a teenage boy developing a hopeless crush on a pretty girl, way out of his league, so so sue him for how his heartbeat increased ten-fold at the word.

he tugged on the neckline of his shirt, “do they always listen to you like this?”

“i don’t know if “listen” is the right word,” you chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i’ve been here a while, so all the kids know me. i dunno, if i had to guess, i’d say they’re just used to me.”

luke hummed. you were being modest. it was clear that all the kids liked you. on the way to the athena cabin, multiple campers greeted you as you passed by, completely ignoring oliver who was beside you and him and annabeth who were trailing not far behind. you had to make so many stops to engage in small conversations with the people you ran into, younger and older kids alike. he was shocked at how you remembered everyone’s names. he lost track after the third kid.

luke’s stomach growled in hunger and he couldn’t even play it off because it was silent in the cabin. he shut his eyes, embarrassed, as he looked away from you, clutching his stomach, begging his body to be his friend for once.

“perfect timing, luke,” you showed no sign of being affected by his embarrassment. you slipped your feet into your sneakers. luke noticed you tied the laces of your shoes loosely, making it easier to take them on and off. “lunch is in five minutes so we better get going. when the ares kids get there first, they massacre the food before any of us gets the chance to put anything on our plate. all that training makes them hungry.”

luke followed you out the door as you explained the structure and schedule of camp half-blood. he was only half paying attention to you because he was too busy listening to the sound of your voice and watching your face light up when you talked about something you found particularly cool.

as you approached the line for food, thankfully before the ares kids, you handed luke a tray. he began to scoop up some food, before turning to look at you, “don’t take this the wrong way, but shouldn’t the hermes head counselor be showing me around? not that i’m not enjoying this tour you’re giving me, but i figured each head counselor for each cabin would be doing this for their new siblings.”

“typically, yeah,” you shrugged, “i’m not even the head counselor of cabin 6 yet.”

luke’s eyebrows raised, “you’re not?”

“nope,” you replied, leading him over to an empty table. he sat across from you, waiting for you to continue. “oli is, but he’s leaving after this year. he got accepted to MIT. i’ll be taking over for him when he leaves.”

“that’s cool,” luke nodded, taking a bite out of the chili mac on his plate. “who’s the head counselor for the hermes cabin?”

a frown appeared on your face as you looked down at your plate. you used your fork to push around your food, “lettie used to be.”

luke knew that tone– grief. it was the same tone he used to tell two apollo kids to be quiet when he overheard them talking about thalia when he and annabeth were still in the infirmary. that tone meant that it was something that shouldn’t be discussed. he changed the subject, “how’s little beth settling in?”

your usual smile returned to your face at the mention of annabeth. luke was glad it was back. “she’s great! she’s brilliant, which i expected, but she’s incredible. truly, luke, she fits right in.”

pride bloomed in his chest. of course beth was already impressing people. she was too smart for her own good and sometimes luke had trouble keeping up with her. at least now she had her siblings to talk to. “she is great, isn’t she?”

you nodded, “polite, too. can’t say the same about some of these kids.”

as if on cue, two kids started bickering with each other, using colorful language that luke was sure they probably shouldn’t be using at their age. they continued to spew insults at each other before an older camper marched over to them and scolded them. the interaction ended in the two kids muttering insincere apologies to each other.

you motioned to the scene with your fork, “see what i mean?”

luke laughed, bringing his attention back to you. “how long have you been here?”

“three years,” you pulled out the necklace from under your shirt, showing off the beads on the string. “i got here when i was 11. grover was my protector, too.”

“how was–” he cleared his throat, swallowing the last bits of chili mac he had in his mouth. he usually didn’t care about how messily he ate, but you were so put together that he figured he shouldn’t scarf down his food like a heathen in front of you. beth used to make fun of him because he inhaled his food so fast that she wondered if he even chewed. “how was your life before all of this?”

“nothing special, really. my dad tried his best to raise me, but he didn’t really know what he was doing. a single dad raising a daughter on his own is hard enough, and adding that your kid is a demigod would surely have anyone raising a white flag.” luke nodded in understanding, too familiar with the pressures of that from what he could remember about his mom. you continued, “but life was good before camp half-blood, normal. i grew up in a small town in connecticut so there wasn’t much to do.”

luke’s eyebrows raised in surprise, “where in connecticut? i grew up in westport.”

your jaw dropped, eyes lighting up in glee. you dropped your fork on your tray, leaning over to grab his shoulders from across the table, “no way! i’m from south wilton!”

the name sounded familiar. he recalls seeing the name on a road sign when he first left connecticut, but he couldn’t remember exactly where it was. a lot of the places he used to go to as a kid blurred together into one giant mush over the years, but with how excited you were to find out he was from westport, he figured you guys lived relatively close to each other.

luke thought about it; a different life where he probably met you under a different circumstance. maybe you guys ended up at the same high school, both terrified little freshmen, hoping that the older kids would take it easy on you on your first day. or maybe you met earlier than that; perhaps luke was sent off to another middle school, no doubt after getting expelled because of his shenanigans like he always did, and you’d be a student there. there were so many other ways you could’ve met each other, but something in his heart told him that the ending would be the same.

you’d still be the nice, pretty girl sitting in front of him at the lunch tables, showing him the ropes of life, showing him the type of kindness he never experienced before. though, he’d probably be eating the smushed pb & j sandwich that he forgot in the bottom of his book bag that his mom packed him for lunch instead of chili mac and you’d both be normal kids, excitedly talking about recess activities instead of swapping war stories about hellhounds and monsters.

“what a small world,” you commented, sitting back down on your seat. luke missed the feeling of your hands on his shoulders. he liked how touchy you were. it was like your emotions were so intense that you had to grab onto someone to keep you grounded. you looked up to the roof, wondering, “i wonder how many times we almost met each other. south wilton is only ten minutes away from westport.”

“probably not many times,” luke replied, off-handedly. he wiped his greasy fingers on the napkin beside him. he didn’t know he still managed to get messy even though he tried his best to eat proper, but you didn’t seem to mind. “i didn’t really go out a lot, i don’t think. always had to stay home with my mom.”

maybe it was because you were the daughter of athena and you were blessed with heightened emotional intelligence, but you sensed that there was something deeper to luke’s words that he seemed to not want to share.

luke lived with the unfortunate ability to only remember the bad things that happened in his life. he attributes it to his knack for survival; if he remembers the things that could get him caught in a sticky situation, then he won’t put himself in that predicament again. dodging death left and right for five years meant that his brain was filled with a step-by-step guide on how not to die, which left little to no space for happy memories. the things that he does remember from his childhood were things like turning the stove off because his mom forgot she was in the middle of making dinner or remembering to close the window in the fall or else the house gets too cold because his mom forgot to pay the electric bill for the heater.

not really the best memories to have of his childhood, but it taught him a lot. it kept him alive.

“that’s okay,” you took a bite out of the strawberry on your tray, red juice slipping from the corner of your mouth. you wiped it away with your forearm, giving him a wide grin, “we met each other here so it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

before he could answer, annabeth came racing to the table, out of breath. she was grinning like a fool, already talking luke’s ear off about how great the athena cabin was. luke pushed his tray away, turning to face the girl, nodding happily as she animatedly explained all the new things she’d learned. he couldn’t get a word in to respond because she kept talking and talking, but luke didn’t mind.

he stole a glance at you as annabeth took a break to take a sip of water. you watched the two of them fondly, chin propped up on your hand, listening to the girl’s stories as if you weren’t there when it all happened.

he thought of your question. no, he decided, it doesn’t really matter. he was here with you now.

#frances writes #frances song fics #state of grace #luke castellan #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson

522 notes · View notes