#bekka watches things

[bekkachaos]

Just finished watching Heartbreak High and I highly recommend it was really so good! Specifically Darren, Quinni, Cash and Malakai 🥺

[bekkalynne]

shelagh's wearing a sunflower pin when she finds out she isn't pregnant & there's a felt sunflower on angela's crib at the church nursery

[residents-of-spookys-mansion]

Can you do Rex headcanons?

Rex time!

-Just like most of the victims of the hospital, Rex was subjected to horrible experiments which only worsened his autophagia.

-Rex is a severe nail and finger bitter which is why he has these boney fingers. He also bites on his arm a lot.

-Thanks to the terrible treatment from the nurses, Rex lost his right eye and his left eye has somewhat poor vision (which Ben uses against him)

-Rex prefers to keep the bandages on his head as he is very insecure about his face and hair. Rex also uses the bandages to wrap around his hands to prevent biting, but it doesn’t work since he always ends up chewing through them

-Rex had trypanophobia, the fear of needles. Show him a needle and he’ll back into a corner in fear.

-Ben often picks on Rex a lot, finding him an easy target. Since Rex has poor vision, Ben can easily sneak up on him and with Rex’s fear of needles, Ben can use his vast array of needles make Rex do things for him or just watched him get scared.

-Rex really hates Ben for this and doesn’t like getting bullied at all. This usually leads Rex to stay in his local and not want to leave

-He did get Ben to back off a bit after baiting Ben into encountering 14, which meant Ben got his ass kicked (again)

-Rex also doesn’t like the ghost cow. He actually hates them. Most of the monsters do since it’s the cow’s fault they’re all stuck there. The cow also likes to physiologically mess with Rex and everyone else. Rex tried to eat him once for revenge but failed and got injured.

-When he feels cold, he will go to the main hospital area and stay in a random room. He usually sleeps on the bed or just takes the blankets. The security guard always makes sure he cleans up. Rex doesn’t mind tho and gets along with the security guard.

-Bekka, the security guard, body bag, and beef demon are really his only friends. He’s on decent terms with everyone else.

-Beef demon appreciates Rex, since he is his second most important costumer, right behind Ringu. Sometimes when Beef demon makes something new, he gives it to Rex or ringu to try. The restaurant is the most common place he visits in the main mansion

-Rex has tried to eat specimen 7, and failed

-Rex has tried to eat specimen 1, and failed

-When he doesn’t like something he usually tries to eat it. He also has tried to eat every specimen, monster, or doll at least once

[monsterrae1]

Raeeee!!

✨wishes✨ for Buddie for the prompts thing 💕

Thank you Bekka! here's a little post christmas fluff. I was a little tempted to just answer with the baby fic since it fit the wishing part of the prompt, but I ended up writing this instead, I hope you like it!

29. Wishes

Buck would never dare to call himself lucky, no one who had met him would call him lucky, he was very accident prone adjacent and while some called him reckless, he swears he would just got hurt sometimes, it wasn't always his fault - like how was he to know the truck had a bomb in it, or that a tsunami was going to hit the pier the day he decided to take Chris there. 

So not lucky, not even an ounce of luck; he, however, had a talent for guessing things that would happen to him, one of his past hookups had called it "manifestation" but Buck never thought much about it, he just knew that sometimes he would say shit like "damn, I wish I had an ice cream" and then Maddie would show up at their parents’ house with a pint of their favorite flavors on hand, or they'd be at the station and Buck would wish for a movie to be on, only to turn on the tv and find out that it was actually on. It was stupid shit always, which was one of the reasons he had never really thought much about a pattern. 

Until Chim pointed out at the Christmas party on Bobby's house. 

"Stop!" He said just as Buck finished saying I wish, "you say that and things come true, it's freaky" 

"No, they don't" Buck argued, knowing out of all of them Chim was the most superstitions one. 

"They kinda do, Buck" Maddie added before Buck could argue more with Chim "They have since we were kids, you just usually ask for very simple things" 

Buck laughed "Mads, c'mon, I'm not magical or anything like that" 

"I'm not saying magical, but I don't know Buck, you have a way of always getting what you wish for" 

Maddie shrugged, and Buck decided to drop the conversation just as a very familiar laugh captured his attention.

Unlike last Christmas, Eddie was having a great time at the 118 Christmas reunion; he had been tasked with helping Bobby man the grill, and was currently talking with Bobby as they both shown Harry and Chris the ins and outs of a well done cut of steak. Buck couldn't help the smile on his own face at the sight of Eddie and Chris so happy and at ease. 

He didn't say it out loud - he didn't want to deal with teasing smiles and knowing smirks from his sister and Chim - but he wished that Eddie was his, really his, and that he got to raise Chris alongside him and not just if the worst came to happen. 

The wish left his head as soon as it had entered when Eddie turned to look at him, smile still bright and big on his face, and nodded at him, asking him to come over with a small movement of his head; Buck of course, excused himself and joined them at the grill. 

He barely left Eddie's side for the rest of the party, climbing into his truck at the end of the night and going home with them; he told himself it was to pick up his jeep and go home, but he knew that Eddie would ask him to stay for a beer, and then a beer would turn into two, and then Buck would be spending the night in the couch and having an early breakfast with the them next morning. 

"Come in?" Eddie asked, just as Buck had predicted, just a little shyer than usual, like he thought Buck might say no; as if he'd ever say no to him. 

"Yeah" Buck answered and followed him inside. 

The tree was still up even though it was already past Christmas, closer to the New Year’s than Christmas really - it was the only day the entire team could get together and they decided to extend the Christmas spirit a little longer - empty of gifts too, but with lights still shinning in a coordinated blinking of rainbow colors, Buck watched it quietly as Eddie helped Chris into bed. 

"Hey" Eddie said softly a few minutes later, Buck turned to see him "It seems like you've chosen the worst place to stand in the house" 

Buck frowned before looking up, remembering the mistletoe Chris had made them hang up right before Christmas eve, they had put it in the middle of the living room ‘cause no one ever stood there. Buck laughed. 

"Well, I'm alone here, so, no biggie" He said shrugging, watching as Eddie bit his lip for a second before walking to join him under it "Eds?" he asked, breathless and confused. 

"Not alone anymore" A couple of shaking hands made their way to Buck's hips and Buck felt his heartbeat double its efforts. "This okay?" 

"It depends" 

"On?" 

"What it means to you" Buck whispered, still working on believing that apparently Eddie wanted to be under the mistletoe with him. It seemed too good to be true. 

"Buck," Eddie started with a smile on his face "It means I want to kiss you, because I love you, and I'm tired of thinking I can't have this, when I'm almost sure I can" 

"Eddie" Buck felt himself smiling, happy tears at the edge of his eyes "Eddie" He kept repeating Eddie's name like that was enough, like this wasn't the moment he had been wishing for... 

Buck took a step back from Eddie, pulling away from his embrace, almost like he had been burned by his touch.

This was everything he had wished for.

His wishes always came true.

This wasn't real. Eddie couldn't love him, not really.

This was just some twisted wish came true, taking away whatever Eddie really felt for him. 

"Buck? everything okay?" Eddie asked concerned, a small frown forming in between his eyebrows. 

"This isn't real" Buck admitted, the tears on his eyes now ones of regret and guilt "I wished... I wished you'd be mine" 

"And I am, isn't that good?" 

Buck shook his head "You aren't, not really, whatever keeps granting my wishes did this, you don't really feel this" 

"Alright you've lost me, what wish?" 

Buck took a deep breath and let himself fall into Eddie's couch "Earlier today, I wished for you to be mine" Eddie nodded, sitting at the opposite edge of the couch "And my wishes always come true, Maddie had just told me that they have been since I was a kid, and Chim thought it was freaky, but then you caught my attention and I just, I saw you and I wished you were mine, and now we're here" 

Eddie shook his head "Buck, this isn't some wish come true" He moved to sit a little closer to Buck, without touching him "I just felt brave enough today, but I've loved you for months now, probably years" He continued "all this time I've been telling myself that I couldn't have you, that you didn't want this, that you deserved better; but today I saw you under the mistletoe and I just, I had to kiss you"

"Are you sure?" 

Eddie nodded "I swear, this had been brewing inside of me for a long time" 

Buck looked at him for a moment, searching on his face for anything that might tell him Eddie wasn't being himself, but all he found was love, and a little exasperation. 

"Okay" 

"Yeah?" Eddie waited for Buck to nod before standing up and offering him his head "Can I have my mistletoe kiss now?" 

"It's not Christmas anymore" 

Eddie huffed, pulling him up "Shut up and Kiss me already" 

Buck laughed but happily complied, leaning down to join their lips together in a soft kiss, both taking their time to savor the other, mapping each other's mouth until they ran out of air; resting their foreheads together to catch their breaths.

"I gotta admit though" Eddie said "That kiss was a wish come true" 

Buck groaned and punched him on the arm without letting go of him "I hate you" 

Eddie laughed "No, you don't" 

"I really don't" He replied with a big smile on his face, one that Eddie kissed away. 

[kara-zor-els]

reading the new gods had the weird side effect of making me obsess over justice league: gods and monsters again (which I watched years ago with 0 fourth world context) because it's honestly the perfect elseworlds for it, even if the new gods (sans Bekka, who is a main character) only showed up in a 10 minutes flashback. Soooo many interesting things are implied to be going on, primarily:

The pact never happened. This led to Orion being raised on Apokolips and being seemingly on good terms with Darkseid

The peace treaty only happened when Orion was an adult. By that we can kind of assume that the war lasted far longer, which is mainly important for my next point.

Highfather betrayed Darkseid, killed him, and led a full on attack on Apokolips. This, in combination with the pact not happening, implies that Izaya never had the moment of revelation during the war that led him to put down his weapons and become a pacifist.

Scott was raised on New Genesis and is a warrior

Barda still defected to New Genesis.

Darkseid (and Apokolips in general) seems to be... not as bad? I'm guessing that this might be a cosmic byproduct of Highfather being not particularly a good guy to maintain balance. Hence, I'm also going to assume that Suli survived. This us 100% canon to me

Bekka is Highfather's granddaughter, but I don't think she's Scott's kid? Maybe she's adopted, or Himon is Highfather's son.

[libraryleopard]

Literally all of Bekka and Lucy's problems would be fixed if they ditched the boyfriends & dated each other

[mackeydoodledoo]

Bela reacts to your hair matching her pendant color Hcs

Bela had been feeling down lately (Lack of motherly praise? You’re not sure, she didn’t tell you) so you wanted to lift her spirits by dyeing your hair to match her pendant color.

Being a lover to a Dimitrescu has its perks

A Castle

Interesting best friends

A looming mother-figure to call your own

However, sometimes it’ll have its days

Cassandra or Daniela (or both) going bad-shit crazy over a ruined hunt or just in general

You don’t really take note of that as they know not to touch you or Bela will have their heads on a silver platter

However, one particular time it was Bela who was going bad-shit crazy or isolating herself from you

You’d often to try and ask her what was bothering her

You could easily hear the lies in her voice

“Bela, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine draga mea. No need to worry about me.”

You don’t press her further in hopes to not accidentally piss her off and then suddenly have her go off on you

“Cassandra” or “Daniela”, do you know what’s going on with Bela?”

“Not sure. She’d have these kinds of days if she believes mother doesn’t praise her as the eldest daughter.” 

“Or if she’s just having those times where you humans are just... sad.”

As her girlfriend, you felt it was your obligation to lift her spirits

You decided to dye your hair; a color you’ve been wanting to do for awhile

A Deep... Deep... Blood Red

“It matches Bela’s pendant color, it’s perfect!”

“How are you going to do it?”

“Are you going to put blood in your hair?!”

“Daniela, it’s not going to stick in my hair if I use blood.... I’m gonna have to go into the modern day city for some.”

You talk it over with the Lady of the Castle and she allows you to do your project... So long as you’ll clean up after

Bela thinks you’re leaving her

“Baby, I’m not leaving you. I need some things. I’ll be back. I promise.”

With that, you head off into the city

Thankfully you were able to return before sunset (because that’s when all of the ghoulies come out)

You don’t answer any of Bela’s questions properly as you rush yourself to the bathroom

Bela stands outside of the bathroom you had locked yourself in and waits an excruciating amount of hours just for you to come out.

“Babe, you’ve been in there a long time... Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,”

“The what are you doing in there?”

“That is for me to know and for you to find out!”

Eventually you finally come out of the bathroom, Bela immediately springing up from the seat she was sitting in

“Would you now care to explain to me why you were in the bathroom for so long?”

You say nothing but remove the hoodie you had put up on your head; revealing the new hair color

“You’ve been feeling down and- I wanted to... This is a saying us humans say to make one another feel better... But um- I wanted to lift your spirits and change my hair color to match the color of your pendant...”

Bela just stands there in awe

“Babe?”

“You really did all of this just to make me feel better?”

You nod at her question

“I love you so much.”

A/n: So.... I saw what happened to Bekka during the Trio signing stream and let me just say... I’m so disappointed. Disappointed in the lack of respect for our lovely and talented Bekka Prewitt. I’m in the LGBTQ+ community and I’m just so ashamed to see people that are apart of the same community harass such a kind soul. I promise you  Bekka radiates nothing but happiness, positive energy and she is just a ray of sunshine. I don’t see any ounce of hate in Bekka, I really don’t. It broke my heart to watch her up and leave the room. I’m glad both Maggie and Bekka decided to just stick with Nicole’s stream for the rest of the signings. Bekka deserves all of the love and support. 

I don’t think Bekka will ever see this post but, This fluffy headcannon post is for you Bekka :) <3

Funfact: This is also inspired by me actually dyeing my hair this color! I didn’t really think about it until what happened to Bekka yesterday...

[ladyorlandodream]

Interviews to the cast actors of RE8 (updating)

Maggie Robertson (Lady Dimitrescu VA)

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uTnhCm8nkwU

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q75bFsUOqNM&t=3815s

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JetP63eTmwg

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJj1lsTmuoE

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vPCkVkd6TVo

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f9JJ5G4Y3mw (with Katie O’Hagan, Mia Winters)

Helena Mankowska (Lady Dimitrescu Face Model)

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-xp3Vi7ems&t=2531s

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l1RJIkJwdmo

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A2S0w9RxHEI

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvvEIeaOQF0

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5FCB71lJCJk

Neil Newbon (Lord Heisenberg)

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wmYHK-_Dz3Q

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eepUVs4TTTU

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZHsRBlYabVM&t=2238s

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V8bwoN6NQdE  (with Paula Rhodes aka Angie Beneviento)

Nicole Tompkins (Daniela Dimitrescu)

- https://www.youtube.com/user/LoveNikiLee

(she basically updates a lot her youtube page with things about RE so take a look)

Bekka Prewitt (Bela Dimitrescu)

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PexL3F3SWFc

- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VuN9IpzD_Ss&t=1763s

 - Michelle Lukes (Mother Miranda)

- Paula Rhodes (Angie Beneviento)

- Andi Norris (Donna Beneviento)

- Aaron LaPlante (The Duke)

- Jesse Pimentel (Salvatore Moreau)

- Donna, Angie and Eveline

[bekkachaos]

*screams about heartstopper*

like literally i dont think any one piece of media has ever made me so joyful! It just just so beautiful. Visually its so pretty, thematically it toes (tows?) the line of realistic and comforting really well (at least for me), the acting is incredible - especially considering the age of the actors, and the constant unapolagetic queerness that is so obvoiusly written by queer people is so refreshing and just .. nice to see. Nick saying 'im bi, actually' so many times was heartwarming and - as someone who is bi themself - it was so nice to see that the only time the usual bi stereotypes were presented was through nicks anxiety (and also ben). I am so scared to see where they take nick's self worth in regards to his 'similarities' to ben bc i don't want to see him sad. I had already read the comics so it was so cool to see how effective this adaptation is continuing to be. the final few scenes of episode 6 have altered me as a human being and are like a visual form of pure nostalgia and comfort. the taylor song in there is so gorgeous. and speaking of songs the entire soundtrack was perfect (like they understand the vibe and the target audience) and had me doing the leo dicaprio pointing meme constantly. I also watched both seasons several times in the last few weeks and probably will rewatch for the rest of my life tbh. I cannot wait for the next season. anyway yea

I 100% agree I just watch this show or read the comics and I am smiling uncontrollably and just feel so warm and comforted and happy it's insane!! It's so beautiful to see something that feels so genuine and it's awkward but sweet and even seeing the changes and growth of all the characters from season 1 to season 2 feels so realistic!

Nick Nelson saying "I'm bi, actually" about seven times in S2 is literally so accurate and I felt so validated by that because it's so real (also as a fellow bisexual) to have to continually justify your sexuality depending on who you're in a relationship with. The queer rep is just wonderful and can I just say that Isaac's journey this season was one of my favourites and the way I screamed when he went back into the library and claimed the ace book at the end 🤌

Anyone who hurts Nick Nelson or makes him feel sad must endure my wrath! I want to put him in my pocket and protect him from all the sad in the world he is so sweet and caring and kind to Charlie, I hate seeing him compare himself to Ben but I love the way they showed that yes the situation was similar but he was so different because he cared about how his coming out made Charlie feel too and they literally talked and communicated, it was fucking beautiful.

And the whole hickey shenanigans from Charlie noticing it (or lbh from when Buck gave it to him) was so funny and realistic and just that episode was perfection (I'm saying this like all episodes weren't 😅)

The Taylor song scene literally did things to my heart, I felt that scene physically, and you are so right the whole soundtrack is perfect! I mean, Taylor aside you have girl in red, Conan Gray, Gabrielle Aplin, wolf Alice, Holly humberstone, Miya folick like so many more I am obsessed with the soundtrack! And have you listened to the "to Nick from Charlie" playlist based on the mixed tape from vol 1? It's literally also a vibe and has Hayley kiyoko (my beloved) and Troye Sivan (I was JUST SAYING that his blue neighbourhood album is so heartstopper coded and wild is one of the tracks 😭)

My life currently consists of:

Drive to work with heartstopper playlist

Return from work and watch reels from the show / rewatch episodes

Read more comic (trying to spread it out so I get more but I am failing)

Constantly think about all of them until I fall asleep

Repeat

I'm just obsessed and it makes me so happy like I can't even explain it, I love it so much 💕🩷💕

[bekkalynne]

I’m watching s1 of CTM again. Heavens help my sleep schedule as my thoughts will be taken up by the only seemingly competent GP in the London area & a Scottish nun who sounds like an angel. Aw, early Turnadette really was something else, huh?

[srvsblog]

hey srv again some people didnt know bekka cried and im here to explain what happened.

bekka began reading her insta chat and she read one comment that was defending her "stop hating on bekka you butts? oh no...are people attacking me again? again?" i might be over analyzing this but she sounded a bit sad when she said that "this would be the forth...fifth day attacking bekka" this broke my heart so much she sounded so sad here (not over analyzing her voice clearly she was hurt) she went back to signing that was when i was focused on her. she was blinking a lot so she wouldn't cry on the print i could tell even though she blinked a lot some tears slipped and she immediately wiped it with her hand. She quickly finished signing the print and stood up then left the room. Someone said that they heard her sniffling i assume they were watching on bekkas live.

They then ended the insta live and went for a break after bekka left.

I apologize for the bad explanation because I'm not going to show a video of her crying since that would be the last thing she wants so let's all respect Bekka and if you want to look at it yourself check out Nicoles stream but please if you do clip or screen record keep it to yourself I don't think Bekka would want anyone recording that.

This stream broke my heart can we please respect them and be nice? let's send bekka some love and in future lives let's be respect to each other and be nice.

[seasonsofeverlark]

Menorah Lights, Blessing of Life

Author: @alliswell21

Prompt: I would LOVE to see some Everlark Hanukkah fluff there’s way to little out there right now. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: T - for non-explicit: adult situations, childbirth description, and breastfeeding. 

Canon typical violence. Vague reference to a war zone/conflict. 

This work contains religious and cultural imagery and traditions. There’s also some use of the Yiddish language, as well as some Hebrew. There will be a glossary and more in-depth commentary at the end of the fic, when this piece gets cross posted to AO3 in a few days. Peeta makes a quick reference to 1 Samuel 1:27 towards the end part of the fic.

Author’s Note: Thank you, Anon, for this prompt. I have to be honest, and disclose I’ve never witnessed a Hanukkah celebration personally, and most of the events depicted in this story concerning the festival is a product of hours of research. I apologize for any inaccuracies or if I’ve inadvertently misrepresented any cultural or religious aspect of the holiday.

Extensive thanks to @rosefyrefyre​, who was kind enough to beta read, spell check my Hebrew, direct me to some great sites to aid my research, and serve as the best resource for Judaism accuracy I could’ve asked for! Rose, I always learn something from my interactions with you. I’m grateful for your willingness to share your knowledge. 

***Hannah: Hebrew origin. Means: ‘grace’/‘favor’; attributed meaning: ‘He (God) has favoured me with a child’.***

Happy Hanukkah to those celebrating the holiday! 

————-

The house is reverently quiet, despite being crammed to the gills with all our family and friends.

  Peeta checks his watch nervously for the fifth time in ten minutes. He’s so rigid, I know his leg will bother him so much tonight, he’ll take hours to fall asleep. 

  I smile at him, making a mental note to warm some lavender infused oils to massage the stump of his leg. It’s the least I can do for my husband. 

  Peeta lost his lower leg protecting me from shrapnel during an attack while deployed to the Middle East some 16 years ago. I was rendered deaf in my left ear on the same attack…we are a perfect match, my husband and I; he has to wear a prosthetic leg to get around, I have to wear a hearing aid, and that doesn’t even begin to cover the burn marks and other scars we sustained in the service. 

  “I think we should…” he says quietly, motioning to the small table we placed by the window earlier. 

  I turn to my cousin, Johanna, and nod. 

  Jo winks at Peeta and shuts the lights off, while I pull back the curtains from the windows and tie them up, revealing a waning sunset over the rooftops of our neighborhood. 

  Peeta stands a pace behind me, transfixed by the slim line of flaming orange in the horizon being swallowed by deep purples and indigos of the falling night. It’s Peeta’s favorite color. 

  “Almost time, Katniss!” he whispers, giddy, placing a match box on the table at the foot of the menorah. 

  There’s a soft buzz behind us, which means everybody  is shuffling closer to the window. Outside, the world is busy with cars driving by, splashing the dirty slosh of melted snow accumulated on the ground from days ago; a dog barks somewhere in the distance, and a couple of people hustle home; but the thing that really catches my eyes, is that in a few houses down the street, candlelights start to flicker to life on windows and front porches, announcing the start of Hanukkah. 

  “Should—should we do it?” Peeta asks leaning closer to the window pane, clearly seeing the other houses already lighting their candles. 

  “There’s still a sliver of sun. They just can’t see it because they’re facing our way, against it.” I mutter back. 

  This is Peeta’s first Hanukkah as a host, so he’s a little eager. In fact, my beautiful husband was beside himself when everything fell into place for us to host tonight’s celebration. If he could’ve gotten his way, we’d have everyone over to light the menorah the whole eight days of the festival. But, we are expecting the arrival of our very own little miracle any day now, so hosting the first day was a very generous compromise with our family. 

  The thought warms me inside, and I caress my protruding stomach absentmindedly, staring at the darkening sky. 

  The sun finally sinks. “Now!” I grin at my other half. 

  Peeta grins back, handing me the candles. Two of them, to be precise; long and blue. If my Tatte —my father— were here, he would’ve insisted we used olive oil and wicks instead, but it’s only Peeta’s first Hanukkah leading, and he’s so nervous about the whole thing already…candles are perfectly acceptable. 

  First, I place the shamash— “Shamash means helper candle, Katniss,” Tatte would explain— in the middle peg of our menorah, so it sits higher than the rest. Then, I place the one other candle in the rightmost holder, to signify today is the first night of the Festival of Lights. 

  Peeta passes me the matches, and I light the shamash. I smile at him, encouragingly, and mouth the words: “Your turn,” 

  He takes a deep breath, wiggling his fingers at his sides, and then starts reciting the first blessing: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Asher kid-shanu bi-mitzvo-tav vi-tzee-vanu, Li-had-leek ner shel Chanukah.” 

  His Hebrew isn’t perfect, but he recites the whole prayer exactly as we practiced. 

  My mother, who’s standing with Peeta’s family, translates quietly, to not disrupt too much, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has sanctified us with His commandments, and commanded us to kindle the Chanukah light.”

  Peeta waits a moment, and then recites the second prayer: “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Shi-asa nee-seem la-avo-teinu, Ba-ya-meem ha-haim baz-man ha-zeh.” 

  Again, my mother translates, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who performed miracles for our forefathers in those days, at this time.”

  Peeta’s blue eyes shine joyfully in the dim of night. 

  “Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, Sheh-he-che-yanu vi-kee-yimanu vi-hee-gee-yanu laz-man ha-zeh.” 

  He finishes the third blessing, which we only say on the first night, with utmost reverence, and holds my gaze for only a second. 

  My mother translates this prayer as well, “Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe, who has granted us life, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this occasion.” She explains this one we only say once, during the first day, but the first two, we recite every night. 

  I take the shamash from its holder and tip the flame into the wick of today’s candle, so it starts the mitzvah of the night. After the light has been kindled, we —the ones in attendance who speak Hebrew— sing Ha-nerot Halalu together. 

  When we finish, my sister, Primrose, starts singing Maoz Tzur, and Peeta turns puppy-dog eyes on me, because he loves my singing.

  I chuckle ruefully before opening my mouth and letting the lyrics spill like second nature. The rest of the attendees join in singing, and suddenly everyone is participating in some way. When the song ends, another one starts, and the atmosphere grows animated and joyful the longer it goes. As it should! 

  Peeta’s brothers came with their families, so he goes to them to chat. My mother has been sitting with them, explaining the proceedings, since it’s the first time they’ve joined us for Hanukkah. 

  The candlelight flickers from the menorah, the only light in the room, just as we finish another song, and then Uncle Haymitch staggers into the middle of the floor, shoving his hands into his pockets. The children peer up with interest, because most of them have known Haymitch long enough to guess what’s to come.

  Haymitch moves his arms just a fraction, and all the kids slip out of their seats like an exhale, and then, the paunchy, ol’ grump is throwing small, shiny, gold disks up towards the ceiling, crowing: “Gelt! Gelt! Gelt for everyone!” 

  “I think he believes he’s some kinda middle-aged, Jewish Oprah!” Blight, Johanna’s husband, cackles somewhere behind me, as the children descend like locusts on the chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil scattered all over the room. 

  Peeta encourages his younger nephews to get in on the fun. 

  Between all three of our siblings, Peeta and I have seven nephews— two of them are teenagers— and one niece. 

  The adults shake their heads and smile from the sidelines, watching the children in merriment.

  When all the gelt has been collected from the floor, Peeta asks the children if they would rather: eat, play dreidel, or hear a story. Since the oldest child in attendance is 8½, the kids settle on a story pretty quick. 

  I sink into the cushions of our plushest chair to watch my husband corral the little ones onto the rug for their story; one of my hands rests lazily on my heavily pregnant belly, while I hold a half eaten sugar cookie in the other one.

  “So…who can tell me what we’re celebrating for the next eight days?” Peeta starts.

  There’s a soft chorus of kiddy voices calling “Hanukkah!”

  “That is right!” Peeta agrees, his eyes are wide, excited, merry, “and Hanukkah is a very important party, because it reminds us of the Miracle of Lights and the victory of the Sons of Israel over the mean ol’ gentiles—“

  “Mamme says gentiles aren’t ‘all’ bad!” cries out Bekka, Johanna and Blight’s little girl, who looks like a carbon copy of her mother, except with long, wavy hair. 

  “Um…you’re right, I should’ve said ‘Greek invaders’ instead of gentiles…my bad—”

  “Uncle Peeta…” one of our nephews— on Peeta’s side— blinks owlishly at him, “What’s a gentile?” 

  “Non-Jewish people,” says Asher, one of Prim’s twins. 

  “Oh…like Muggles are non-magic folk?” asks another of the Mellark boys. 

  “I guess so,” answers the other twin, Aspen.

  “I don’t think we are Jewish,” comments one of Peeta’s nephews, turning inquisitive blue eyes to my husband and then to his own parents, “Are we?”

  “No, buddy, you aren’t a Jew—“

  “Uncle Haymitch says gentiles are helpless,” interrupts Aspen, shaking his head sadly, “He says the goyish thing gentiles do is putting mayo in their pastrami sammiches! So, if neither of you don’t put mayo in your pastrami, then you’re alright. You’re mishpachah, Bran!”

  “Um…what does that mean?” asks Bran.

  “We’re your mishpachah, right, Mamme?” inquires Asher.

  “It means ‘family’,” explains Prim, making the Mellark boys look relieved, and even proud. 

  “Are you a gentile too, Uncle Peeta?” asks Asher, “Uncle Haymitch says you used to be his favorite Shabbos Goy of all times before you married Auntie Katniss.”

  I almost choke on my cookie. 

  Peeta wheezes out a tiny chuckle, but is interrupted by my enraged sister.

  “Boys!” Prim rushes from her chair, her daughter half asleep in her lap; she dumps the toddler into her husband’s arms to stand in front of the twins with her hands on her hips. “That is not nice! What have I said about repeating all the mishegas Uncle Haymitch says?”

  “Not to…” the twins mumble contritely. 

  “Oy! I’m sitting right here, Sunshine!” Haymitch calls out. “Plus, kinder wisdom,” he pronounces it the Yiddish way, like the start of kindergarten, “it’s still wisdom!” 

  The twins are 7, but they can be a menace and clever to boot.

  Haymitch continues, “Everybody knows the Boy used to be pretty helpful back in the day. I was almost sad when Sweetheart finally snatched him up, despite it being the smartest thing she’s ever done,”

  “Haymitch…” I ground a low warning. 

  It’s a well known fact I kept digging my heels in against Peeta’s subtle advances for years, despite having feelings for him myself; I’m grateful my beautiful husband persevered though, because looking at him now, I can confidently say that our marriage, our family, would’ve happened anyway, despite my deep seated fears, the physical and mental toll being in a war zone took on us both, and all the heartbreak in between… 

  Unlike my mother, Peeta did not convert to Judaism in order to marry me. He did that on his own, way before I agreed to make our odd relationship official. I tried to persuade him from converting though— he does love Christmas and bacon— but again, he was committed to our faith with an iron will only the grave can quell. 

  “Eh!” Haymitch waves me off, “Nobody can win with you girls. Not even kvelling about one of your husbands!” 

  I sink deeper into my chair, sufficiently mollified. The old man can gush all about Peeta all he wants, as long as he doesn’t comment on me.

  But Haymitch has a big mouth; he used to give me a hard time for my apparent ‘prickly personality’, often telling me I was so surly, I was practically gornisht helfn—beyond help���and once, he even said, I was as charming as a slug. I retorted he was probably looking at a mirror, and that was the end of that.

  When Peeta started hinting at wanting more out of the casual arrangement we’ve had since the Army, and to my chagrin, two more suitors sprung out of nowhere, Haymitch had the gall to tell me that before Peeta, I was as romantic as dirt. Peeta gave him an earful for that one, though. It was glorious seeing Haymitch properly chastised by his favorite Shabbos Goy.

  I giggle at the memory. 

  I finally relented a couple of years ago, letting my fears go. Haymitch was the first to congratulate me when I announced I was dating Peeta, like a normal couple. My uncle fixed me with a stare that said he expected me to really try, because this boy was a true catch, or as he called him then, “a mensch if he ever saw one.” 

  I happen to agree. 

  I sigh, massaging my ribs where the baby is digging its tuchis in. 

  Haymitch gets away with a great deal of things on the simple account that he was the only person who actually accepted, and welcomed our mother into our family, when she married our father. Everyone else called her an opinionated shiksa behind my parents’ backs, probably thanks to my Bubbe…dear old Grandma really disliked the idea of my father marrying a gentile girl, despite being clear as day how much they loved each other. 

  My sister glares at Haymitch too, then turns to her sons, “It’s the first day of Chanukah, nu?” The boys nod in affirmative, “Then be good, so Uncle Peeta can finish the story—“

  “But, Mamme…we know the story!” 

  Prim gives them The Look and shuts them up right away. “Bannock, Graham, and Bran don’t know the story. They’re our guests, and we are called to be hospitable to everyone, right?” 

  I stare at Prim with mild amusement. She’s such a MOM! 

  “Yes, Mamme.” 

  I wonder if I’ll be able to master ‘the stare’ as well as my baby sister has? 

  Prim told me once, that everything she knows about mothering, she learned from the years in which I took care of her, after our father died, and our mother fell into a debilitating depression that almost killed us all from starvation and hebetude. 

  I have mixed feelings about that assessment, first, because: At first I was just trying to keep our situation hidden from others, so I made sure Prim and I were clean and presentable for school, that all homework was made on time, that we studied our Torah lessons, and that we attended Hebrew school without missing a class. I made sure Prim ate at least once a day, even if that meant I went without.

  There were things I couldn’t provide for my sister, simply because I didn’t know how, and when the pantry was empty, I started secretly raiding the trash containers behind the stores in our neighborhood.

  I was 11 then. 

  That’s when the first and only interaction with Peeta— or as I knew him then: the baker’s son— occurred before the Army. 

  Peeta had been watching me steadily lose weight and figured something wasn’t right. Then he saw how I dove out of his folks’ bakery’s garbage container and emerged empty handed, because trash had already been collected. 

  Instead of sneering, bullying me or calling the police, Peeta gave me two, fresh loaves of bread— the chiefest of foods in our culture— and thanks to his generosity, I figured out how to keep Prim, mother and myself fed when money was tight, hunting squirrels and little birds, long enough for my mother to find the strength to get the help she needed to get better.

  Secondly, in my adult life, I’ve learned to appreciate our mother’s position. She had a really hard time with life in general. Her family turned their back on her when she converted to Judaism, yet people in our community mistrusted her because of my grandma’s own prejudice, the fact that my mother was a nurse and every now and then her hospital wouldn’t (or couldn’t) honor her religious freedom to observe the Shabbat didn’t help her case. People started trusting her after they saw her care for the sick in the community, often paying from her own pocket for their treatments. 

  Peeta never struggled fitting in with my family. Then again, he’s so sweet and friendly with anyone, always so happy and ready to lend a hand…why everyone in our community loves him, and welcomed him with open arms as one of us. Sometimes it’s almost impossible to picture my loving, sweet husband as a seasoned Army veteran, who’s seen his share of destruction and death…then again, maybe it is because he’s seen humanity at its worst that he makes the extra effort to stay a pacifist and he chooses to show The Lord’s love unto others. 

  “Sorry, Peeta, please continue with the story. You’re doing a lovely job!” says my sister.

  I chance a glance at my husband, and see the mirth in his bright, blue eyes. 

  “Thank you Prim,” he says, turning back to the boys, with wonder in his voice. “But, I was thinking, and this might be the best idea I ever had! What if we let the boys tell the story of Hanukkah tonight, since it’s true, they know it better than I do? They are incredibly smart young men!” 

  “Avadeh!” exclaims Haymitch from his spot. 

  The twins wiggle with excitement, and both of them turn eager, hazel eyes to their mother, seeking approval.

  Prim takes a deep breath and nods. 

  Both boys turn their bronze haired heads back to Peeta, enthusiastically. 

  “Alright, go on then, tells us what happened!” Peeta encourages. 

  Asher starts, “The brave heroes, called the Maccabees, kicked out the Greek gentiles that wanted to make the people of Israel pray to their gentile gods! Then the priests came to ‘re-medicate’ the Holy Temple—“

  “Rededicate!” Thom, Prim’s husband, corrects from the back of the room, but the boys are on a roll now.

  “‘Redadecate’ the Holy Temple, by lighting the menorah. So, they looked all over the place, but found only one jar of ‘puridified’ oil—“

  “Purified!” 

  “Yes, what Tatte said! They only found enough of the good oil, to light the menorah for one day!”

  Asher pauses for effect, while all the adults react to the suspense accordingly, gasping and murmuring. 

  Aspen continues the narration after a second. 

  “At first, the priests thought: oh no! We don’t want to light the menorah for only one day, it needs to burn all the time to clean all the filth the Greeks left behind, so we can praise Adonai again!”

  Hushed voices comment their approval. 

  The other twin picks up the story. “But they decided, that even one day, was better than none at all, so they used that little bit of oil, and fired up the lamp, and the lights burned for eight times straight!”

  “Eight days…” corrects Thom.

  “Eight days straight!”

  “It was a miracle!”

  Everyone claps, excitedly. 

  “The priests had time to…” Asher cranes his neck, seeking his father in the crowded living room, and then smiles, enunciating his word with precision, “‘purify’ more olive oil, to add to the menorah from then on!”

  “That’s why we celebrate Hanukkah every year! To remember how our people defended their freedom,”

  “And won back the Holy Temple,”

  “And The Lord accepted their effort with a miracle of lights!” 

  The whole room erupts in cheers and song. Everybody hugs each other in celebration. 

  After a moment, our auntie Effie calls out, “Oh what wonderful storytelling, Tattelles!” She rushes over to the twins and smacks loud, wet kisses, on both of the boys’ cheeks, leaving red lipstick all over their wincing faces. 

  The twins wipe their cheeks with the backs of their hands, and Prim just sighs, hugging her sons to her chest. “Well done, Asher. Well done, Aspen.”

  Peeta pats them both on the head, and ever the attentive host, directs everyone to help themselves to the many treats he made. 

  “Is everything fried?” asks one of Peeta’s sisters-in-law.

  “For the most part,” I hear my mother say, fondly. “To commemorate the miracle of the oil, traditionally, Hanukkah food is fried.” She explains, patiently. “Everything is delicious, and Peeta and Katniss made quite the spread.” 

  My mother busies herself, setting up a stack of napkins on the table where we placed all the food; she then serves latkes to the Mellarks.

  Haymitch grabs her hand and pulls her to sit by me. “Come rest, sit with your daughter, enjoy the lights. I’ll shmooze the bakers now, nu!” 

  My mother comes to sit next to me. She smiles tiredly, “How are you feeling, zeeskeit?” 

  I grin, she’s using the same term of endearment Tatte used to call us. It means ‘sweetheart’.

  “I’m alright. Just a little tired. My back is killing me and I think I have gas, ‘cause my belly keeps rumbling and tensing up.” 

  My mother arches a dark blonde eyebrow, “Maybe the baby is on the way?” 

  “I suppose that could be a possibility,” I shrug. I’m 6 days shy of my due date, but the doctor says I’m healthy, and he expects no complications, whatsoever, plus first time mothers can be early. 

  Thom brings out a dreidel to play with the children. 

  My toddler niece rubs her eyes grumpily— she’s got gray eyes, like my father did. Like mine. Mother and Prim are blonde and blue eyed, but I favored my father in appearance…I wonder who my child will like? I hope it’s a little of both Peeta and I— the girl clings to her father’s arm, watching her brothers and cousins spin the top, suspiciously. Once she realizes gelt is involved in the game, she perks up a little, and tries to spin the dreidel to mixed results. 

  Everyone sits around the children, eating latkes dipped in applesauce or sour cream; Peeta decided not to serve any meat tonight, so we could eat dairy products. Effie is dipping hers in salsa…what an odd woman! 

  Johanna is eating an entire block of cheese, noshing on it like a mouse. 

  Peeta brings me and my mother sufganiyot; he smiles sheepishly. “These were a hit.” He says, “they’ve already disappeared from the tray.”

  I stare at him with wide eyes. “Why does that surprise you, babe? Your cooking is amazing!” 

  Peeta rubs the back of his head, bashful. “Eh, it would be embarrassing if the baker couldn’t handle jelly filled donuts, nu?” he whispers, kneeling in front of my chair. 

  “Nonsense,” I say equally quietly, “you are the most talented person I know.” I kiss him on the forehead, after pushing back the ashy waves of hair falling into his eyes. 

  I hope our child has wavy hair like Peeta does! Mine is boring…not so much the dark as ink color, but the way it’s so thick and straight, the only way to keep it up is in braid.

  Peeta gazes at me with so much love, my heart skips a beat. 

  “Have I told you recently, just how grateful I am to have you as my wife, lover and partner in life?” He reaches up to caress my face, and suddenly the hubbub of the party fades, leaving us in a bubble of our own. 

  “I’m grateful too!” I say, curling my sugar coated fingers around his, cupping my cheek. 

  It’s a veritable miracle that Peeta and I are here today, married and with a child on the way. 

  We grew up in the same neighborhood, went to the same schools, and frequented the same places; yet, despite crossing each other’s paths often, and outside the lone time with the bread when we were eleven, we never truly interacted with each other until we found ourselves deployed to the same base overseas.

  Peeta enlisted in the Army fresh out of high school. I enlisted much later, when it became glaringly obvious that if I was going to pursue any higher education, it would have to be paid for by the military, since every penny Mother and I made, went straight into Prim’s Med school fund. 

  Prim took a couple of breaks from school while building her family, but she’s a pediatrician now, beloved by her patients and their parents. 

  Thom is in the field as well, as a Physical Therapist. He was Peeta’s PT for a while; that’s how him and my sister met. They married years before we did. 

  Call it chance or providence, Peeta and I had no idea we were in the same camp, until our names got chosen for some grunt duty I can no longer remember. We recognized one another instantly, and became very close friends while in the service. Close enough to share cots and knock boots when the itch was too unbearable to ignore. We discovered we had more in common than just our hometown, and then…the worst day of our lives happened, cementing our dependence on the other, like only tragedy can. 

  While on a mission, our unit got attacked. Our Commander, a burly man named Boggs, called for extraction while we ran for cover from a volley of bullets raining on us. In the confusion, Boggs stepped on a landmine that blew off both his feet. 

  I rushed to him, pulling him back to safety. I didn’t think of the shrapnel flying everywhere, but Peeta— who had located me a second earlier— did. He made it to me somehow, and shielded my body with his own, earning a mangled leg full of lead for his troubles. 

  Boggs was beyond medical help; the poor man bled to death in my arms in the transport back to base. Peeta was badly hurt, losing blood quicker than anyone in the transport could stomach. I tried to help him as best I could, wishing I had my mother’s touch or Prim’s cleverness; I placed a tourniquet on Peeta’s thigh. It saved his life, but cost him his leg. 

  It wasn’t until we arrived back in camp, and the adrenaline and terror left my body, that I was able to feel my own wounds. I had second degree burns in several places of my body; the fire and heat miraculously spared my face. Then, I noticed the ringing in my left ear wouldn’t go away, and when it did, no other sounds came in. 

  I was honorably discharged for my damaged ear, but I requested to stay close to my buddy, Peeta Mellark, until he was stable enough to go back home. When questioned about this, I simply replied, “We protect each other. Is what we do.” 

  Peeta was discharged too shortly after. We got shipped back home to America together, which is how we’ve been ever since.

  Peeta and I survived against the odds.

  It took us months and lots of counseling to be able to sleep through the night without waking up screaming. 

  It took him years to convince me it was okay to let my guard down around my heart. I was always so scared I’d lose him to some unseen danger, and like my mother, fall into such a deep depression I could harm any potential children we had together, because in my heart of hearts I knew Peeta was it for me.  

  It took us five, ten, fifteen years to be where we are at, and that in itself is a miracle I’m grateful for. 

  “Peeta, darling, the candles are almost out,” says Effie, who apparently is eager to turn the lights back on. 

  “Alright, let’s see…” I stand up to check just how consumed those candles really are, and as soon as I do, my incompetent bladder releases all the pee I have in my body, and then some. “Feh!”

  My mother gasps and pushes Peeta back, who was still kneeling close by. “Katniss, your water just broke!” 

  “What?! Already? Whatdowedo?!” Peeta is frantic, practically jogging in place, hands hovering uselessly around my belly. 

  Effie screeches in a very uncharacteristic fashion. “Oh! What a big, big, big day this is, darlings! Katniss, doll, you might get to hold your very own bundle of joy in your arms on the first day of Hanukkah! What a blessing!” 

  “Well, first things first,” says my mother, going into nurse mode. “Everyone, calm down! This child is not about to drop just yet. Second, Katniss needs to get out of these clothes and into clean ones. Then we need to get you packed and ready to go to the hospital. Peeta, dear, you need to call the doctor, and let them know your wife’s water broke, and you’re heading to the hospital soon.”

  “Okay! Yeah…on it!” says Peeta chewing nervously on his lower lip. 

  He reluctantly steps aside to make the call. By then, my sister is moving people around to get me through the room.

  Delly, Peeta’s sister-in-law, comes from who-knows-where with an armful of towels to mop up the floor. 

  “Thank you,” I offer embarrassedly.

  Delly waves me off, “Oh no, honey, don’t you worry about it. I know how these things go. You have more important stuff to think of right now. We will clean this place up, and probably call on grandma and grandpa Mellark, to let them know.” 

  I give her a hug, because she’s the nicest person I know, and barely hold back an ugly sob. 

  Peeta comes back from calling the doctor just as my mother is helping me into a pair of baggy sweatpants. Prim’s going through my bag triple checking what I packed, despite my protests that both Peeta and I have been checking on it every day for the last week. 

  “Everything is ready, Katniss. The doctor is on the way to the hospital. There’s a triage nurse already waiting for you, our paperwork is being processed as we speak, so all we have to do is sign it when we arrive, and Effie and Haymitch are taking over hosting duties from us.”

  “Oh great!” I sigh, “you can say goodbye to all the wine in the house if those two are in charge,”

  “Is that sarcasm I detect? That means the contractions aren’t even painful yet…” says Prim dryly. Then she and my mother giggle. 

  I glare at them, rubbing the back of my hips, my bones back there kind of burn. 

  Peeta seems confused and wisely keeps his mouth shut. He grabs the hospital bag I packed for me and the baby, a week ago, and shoulders a backpack for himself, he packed almost a month ago. 

  My mother rides with us to the hospital, and since everyone knows her and my sister there, I get extra pampered by the nursing staff. 

  My obstetrician, Dr. Aurelius, checks on me as soon as I’m put in the hospital gown; he’s a little concerned about my blood pressure, so the nurses keep an even closer eye on me. At 32 I’m not at any greater risk of things going wrong than any other mother-to-be, but this is my first child, so I endure their over prodding gratefully. 

  Labor itself goes quickly, only a couple of hours from the water breaking to the crowning. Peeta holds my hand through it all; he tends to me lovingly, feeding me ice chips, blotting sweat from my face and neck, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement into my ear, and when he’s not talking to me or the medical staff, he prays. 

  After surviving a war zone, second degree burns and a few broken bones, I think that giving birth is perhaps the least painful experience of all. Not in the literal sense of course— giving birth physically hurts like a mother!— but in the psychological-emotional sense. I’m going through this trial for love, with the expectation of meeting someone amazing in the end.

  But when it’s time to push, a fear older than time itself chokes me up. “I can’t do this! Let the baby stay in my belly…I can keep the child safe here, please!” 

  “Sweetheart, look at me,” says Peeta cupping my face in his hands, “You are the bravest, most selfless person I know. I’m not denying how scary this is, bringing an innocent into the world, but you’re not alone…we have each other, and we will face this fear like we’ve faced any other fear, and we’ll beat it into dust!” 

  “Together?” My voice wavers.

  “Together!” he vows. 

  “Katniss…the baby’s crowning,” says Dr. Aurelius, “This is it! On your next contraction, I need you to push real hard, alright?”

  I nod, exhausted; Peeta squeezes my hand in his, and I squeeze right back. 

  “Here it comes!” I bear down with all my might and growl all the breath out of my lungs, and suddenly, the best sound in the world fills the delivery room: the meowling of my newborn reaches my ears. 

  “It’s a girl!” calls the doctor from between the stirrups holding my legs up.

  The man holds the screeching child up, so we can see her, and my whole world shrinks to her tiny shape. 

  Peeta is crying. 

  I’m crying too! 

  My mother is somewhere in the background singing something I can’t quite catch, and everyone around is bustling to get my brand new baby girl cleaned up and measured. Then finally she’s placed on my chest, and my husband and I can’t stop staring and caressing her. 

  “Shalom, sheifale,” I sigh in contentment, kissing my baby’s forehead.

  “Welcome, little one!” Peeta murmurs. Our daughter wraps her whole hand around her father’s index finger and holds fast to it. 

  Again, it feels like we are in this hermetic bubble, where only Peeta, myself, and now our newborn, exist. Meanwhile the doctor and nurses are still working on me, but that doesn’t matter. My family is finally whole, and that too is a miracle full of light!

  “Mazel Tov, my dears!” says my mother, smiling at Peeta and me. “I’ll go tell the people in the waiting room the good news…do you have a name picked out already?” she asks tentatively, her face lit with happiness and relief. 

  “Hannah!” says Peeta right away. “For I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted my plea.” Peeta’s eyes widen, then he looks down at me sheepishly, “unless, you have something else in mind?” 

  “No!” I laugh, “Hannah is perfect!” I hold the babe higher on my bosom, and tilt her head towards my mother, “Hannah, say hello to Bubbie Lily, she’s my Mamme, and I am yours!”

  My mother giggles, “Happy birthday, Hannah Mellark, and happy Hanukkah, zeeskeit.” My mother leans closer, and gives Hannah’s head a peck. “Next time I see you, there will be others with me…your mishpachah, who are eager to meet you, sheifale!”

  “We’re almost done here, and you can see some of your family. But be mindful of visiting hours!” says Dr. Aurelius, pushing back from the instrument table. 

  We all say our thanks to the staff, and my mother goes to talk to our family in the waiting room. Peeta’s led to the nursery, to give Hannah her first bath. Once the baby is dressed and swaddled into a hospital blanket, Peeta snaps a couple of pictures of her with his smart phone and sends it to everyone one we know. The caption reads: “Hannah Mellark, because G-d favored us with a child!” 

  The nurse helping Peeta, takes two of those thin hats they give all the newborns, and fashions it into a single hat with a big bow on the front. Our daughter’s head will be warm and stylish.

  Back in the room, Hannah latches onto my breast easily enough, and to our surprise opens her eyes, to show deep blue peepers, like her father’s! 

  “Look, Daddy, she’s got your eyes!“ I exclaim. 

  “Can she call me Tatte?” Peeta asks quietly, as if asking permission.

  I nod, “Hannah, your Tatte gives the best hugs in the world!” 

  The visitors file in. My mother-in-law falls in love with Hannah, her first and only granddaughter. Peeta’s father tears up a little bit, and hugs his son, kissing his temple. I’ve never seen the Mellarks so happy and moved. A baby would do that, I guess. 

  After our siblings come to visit, Effie and Haymitch make a quick appearance. Haymitch holds Hannah the longest; he sings her a song in Hebrew, then says a blessing over her. 

  Effie pulls Peeta aside, “What we discussed…” she says demurely, smiling softly, and hands him a bag. 

  Since she already gave us practically half of Buy Buy Baby at our shower, I have no idea what else she could’ve gotten, but my husband’s entire demeanor lights up like fireworks when he peeks in the bag. He hugs Effie and thanks her profusely. 

  I fall asleep after a while.

  When I wake up again, the room’s mostly dark, except for a soft, flickering light. 

  Hannah is not in her bassinet, so I sit up with a start, only to find the most wonderful scene in front of me: Peeta’s holding the babe by the window looking down the road. The blinds are open, and on the sill sits a child size menorah. The shamash is lit, but the day one candle is not. 

  “Peeta?” I call softly.

  My husband turns, smiling, “You’re awake! We didn’t want to disturb you. You had a hard, busy day, but…” he shrugs, “It’s Hannah’s first Hanukkah, and I figured you wouldn’t wanna miss it,” 

  No, I wouldn’t. 

  I get up, gingerly, and shuffle towards my family. 

  I cock my head and study the candelabra, which looks suspiciously like the kind business owners put in their offices along their Christmas trees and other wintry decor to show how inclusive they are. This one is smaller than regular menorahs, made of plastic, with a cord sticking from the side which is plugged into the wall besides the window. The flickering light I thought at first to be a real flame, is just a small bulb with a candlelight effect. 

  “Where did you get an electric menorah?” I ask skeptically.

  “Effie,” my husband blushes. “She said it was okay, as long as we lit a kosher menorah, which we did at home,” he says a little defensively, with a lot of pleading generously sprinkled in between. 

  My father would’ve frowned at the decidedly un-kosher menorah. 

  Reading my expression, my sneaky husband harrumps, “This is a hospital, Katniss. I don’t think they’ll be thrilled to find there’s an open flame in a room housing a newborn, no matter what holiday you’re celebrating.”

  I sigh. He’s right. Safety protocols should be observed, and we did light a traditional menorah already; plus, this one is practically a toy for the baby…technically a Hanukkah gift. 

  I relax my stance. I wasn’t aware that my shoulders were so tense during that exchange. 

  “Fine,” I acquiesce, “show me how does the thing work?”

  Peeta grins, looking at ease holding our daughter in one arm like a pro. No wonder he’s always our nephews’ and niece’s favorite uncle. 

  He pulls a couple of bulbs from his pants pocket, and holds them on his palm for me to peruse. “All you do is screw these in the small sockets, just like placing the candles in a regular menorah. Then, you press this button, and it lights up!” He points at a small button at the base of the toy. 

  I nod, accepting his explanation. 

  Hannah wiggles a bit in her father’s arm, then makes an aggravated noise. Peeta adjusts the child against his chest, and looks at me, expectantly. 

  “Hannah’s waiting, and she’s probably getting hungry. I should know, I’m her Tatte!” 

  I snort a reluctant laugh. The man can drive me crazy, in an endearing sort of way. How can I deny my family anything?!

  We say the blessings together, then Peeta whispers all the ceremonial rules on lighting the candles to our baby.

  Hannah has her fist wrapped around his finger again, so he picks up the pretend shamash with the same hand, and touches the tip of the bulb into the opening, so— according to him— Hannah is lighting the day one candle herself…symbolically. 

  He screws the bulbs in their right places, and switches the candlelight on. 

  I must admit, it’s not as tacky as I feared it would be. I make a mental note to let Peeta know I’m glad he thought of this, later…probably tomorrow. 

  We sing quietly, not to disturb anyone else on our floor. After the ceremony of the candles is done, we hold onto each other, watching the flickering lights, while Peeta narrates the story of the Maccabees to Hannah. 

  Everything is quiet after that; Hannah fusses once, so I take her into my arms, and sing a lullaby. 

  Peeta has been staring at me all night like I hung the moon in the sky. He gazes at our daughter like she’s the most precious thing he’s ever seen, and I’m sure my eyes reflect the same feelings as his.

  “I wish I could freeze this moment, right now, and live in it forever.” 

  I smile up at him, who in turn is gazing at our daughter and me with adoration; my heart fills to bursting!

  “I do too!” I stand on tiptoes, and kiss his cheek. “Happy Hanukkah, Peeta. Happy Hanukkah, Hannah.”

  “Same to you too, sweetheart, and thank you Lord, for blessing our family with the miracle of life.”

[symwinter]

So I’m a lil bit of a Monster High mood and my thoughts brought me to the original book series by Lisi Harrison and I want to share some thoughts.

So for those unaware in 2010 Lisi Harrison wrote the first Monster High book. It was a dual perspective story focusing the chapters between Frankie, a monster, and Melody, who at that point was deemed human. Despite the outdated references Frankie’s chapters hold up and Melody is kinda whiny, but this dual perspective was totally under-utilized and here’s why.

Frankie and Melody were never friends. They were both new to the school and interacted at least once so it would’ve been so easy to make them friends as new girls and watch it be tested by things like:

Frankie’s growing friendship with Cleo & co. since Cleo is a mean girl/Queen Bee contrasted by Melody’s growing friendship with Bekka the other mean girl and former Queen Bee. Would that damage their friendship or would Melody end up seeing Cleo’s nicer sides and ditch Bekka?

Melody’s crush on Jackson and Frankie’s crush on Holt—who’s called DJ—especially since they’re the same person and I’m pretty sure that the two learn this by the end of the book

Melody learning that Frankie is a monster. Since the whole town is terrified of monsters so how would Melody react to it?

I just wish it was explored more.

Also this is 100% a precursor to a very long post detailing my Monster High AU thing that I plan on posting more for me, as tumblr intended it, but it borrows some stuff from the book series so that’s why this is relevant.

[slytherinbarnes]

Sub Rosa [41]

xii. demons

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: violence, mentions of blood, fighting, death, description of a gross death, near death experiences, language. 

Summary: a return to Arkadia results in an unexpected reunion. 

a/n: VERY IMPORTANT NOTE!!!! for those of you not in the US or in the Southern US, we are currently facing a hurricane down here. this has the potential (and likelihood) of knocking out our power. this means that I am unsure about the other updates for this week! I don’t know if I’ll have access to power or internet, and I will likely be focused on other things. because of this, considered the other two updates for this week temporarily delayed. if things change and I can post, I will, but I just want you to all be aware! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

Sometime during the night, when everyone else is asleep, Monty nearly drives off the road. You and Bellamy are the only two awake to witness it, both of you too wired to sleep. Though it’s not like you usually slept well anyways. 

You force him to stop and climb into the back with the others, while Bellamy slides into the driver’s seat. You get into the passenger seat beside him, looking back over your passengers and making sure everyone is okay before you nod at him to continue. 

The ride through Azgeda territory, back towards Arkadia, is more peaceful than any of your previous trips, despite your tension with Bellamy. You glance over at him, noting that he’s rigid in the driver’s seat, grip tight on the wheel, jaw tense with stress. You can tell he’s playing Raven’s words over and over in his mind, reminding him of the guilt he was already carrying. He senses you looking at him, and he turns to look at you quickly before looking back at the road. He takes in a breath like he’s about to say something, and you look away, out the window, scared that he might change his mind. “When you first told me you were cursed, I thought you were being dramatic. I didn't understand how someone could blame themselves for every bad thing in their life, whether they were responsible for it or not. And then I started to do the same thing.”

He pauses for a long minute, looking out at the road in front of him with an intense expression. “Seeing Shumway with you that night in the woods, and then me failing to protect you, it hit me that I had failed you. And then you got stabbed looking for Clarke, and you nearly died in Mount Weather because I made you stay, it hit me again that I failed you, and I swore I wouldn't let that happen again. And along came Pike. I was hurt and afraid to lose you, and Octavia, and I let him convince me that the Grounders were the problem. But like Octavia said, that’s no excuse, because people got hurt. The army, Niylah’s dad, Indra, Monroe, Lincoln, Octavia…”

He turns to look at you, and you meet his gaze. He softens a little, some of his stress melting away. “You. The two people I swore to protect no matter what, and all I did was hurt them both.”

“You were doing what you thought was best for us.”

“I was wrong.”

You shake your head. “But that doesn't change your intention, Bellamy. You and Pike are not the same, you know that, don’t you?”

He doesn't say anything, just glances your way, then back to the road, the muscle in his jaw shifting, and you realize he doesn't see a difference. “Pike is brutal and manipulative and power hungry, and he only has one goal in life, which is to kill Grounders. He thinks they’re heartless savages that need to be broken and put down, but you know that none of that is true. We have always had a complicated relationship with the Grounders, and I won't blame you for lashing out from fear. But I know you and I know your heart, and I know that you don't genuinely believe that all Grounders are monsters.”

“We’re all just doing what we need to do to survive, right? Us and the Grounders alike.”

You almost smile, remembering the conversation in the woods, the one he’s quoting back to you now. A conversation that feels so long ago, back before Mount Weather, and Pike, and an AI hell bent on taking over the world. You nod, still believing in your words. “Yeah. Doesn't mean anyone is right or wrong or good or bad for it. It just means we’re trying.”

He’s quiet, absorbing the conversation. Some of the tension has left his body, his posture relaxing slightly, and that brings you relief. Bellamy’s guilt won't disappear overnight, the same way he can't earn his forgiveness from the others overnight, but this feels like a step in the right direction. 

-

When the sun rises high enough in the sky, and the others have woken up, Bellamy parks the rover in a field to let it charge. As him and Monty adjust the solar panels, getting them right, the rest of you spread out in the grass, passing around rations and chatting about nothing. Bellamy plops down beside you when they finish, and you pass him the package of nuts in your hands, which he takes with a quiet thank you.

Raven sits sandwiched between Clarke, who is checking over her wounds, and Sinclair, who refuses to let her out of his sight. Octavia is on your other side, quiet, watching the others, and Jasper and Monty sit across from you, side by side. Before Clarke settles back into the grass, she pulls out a small container, and slides the lid far enough back to check on the small chip inside. Satisfied that it’s in place, she pushes the lid closed again, and tucks it into her pocket, looking up and finding your eyes, which are watching her closely. You nod to her pocket. “How did you get it?”

“It’s the Flame. Each Commander gets it during the Ascension ceremony, and after death, it is removed for the next Commander. Lexa always talked about how her spirit would choose the next Commander and how she would never truly die, but I just thought she was talking about reincarnation. I didn’t know it would be an AI.” She takes in a shaky breath, steadying herself. “I was there when Lexa died, so I saw Titus remove it. When Ontari became the new Commander, he knew she couldn't have it, so he gave it to me, and told me to find Luna.”

Bellamy looks at her in confusion. “Why couldn't Ontari have it?”

“She murdered all the novitiates in their sleep so she could be the last one standing.”

“Holy shit.”

Raven shakes her head. “If the Grounder’s don't know that it’s an AI, how do they know what to do with it?”

Clarke reaches into her jacket, and pulls out a small notebook. “Because Becca left them instructions.”

Raven’s eyes light up, already reaching for it. “May I?”

Clarke passes her the notebook, and Raven opens it eagerly, already absorbed in Becca’s words. Clarke fills the rest of you in on everything that happened in Polis while the rest of you were in Arkadia dealing with Pike, and it’s almost hard to believe everything she’s telling you: a coup against Lexa, Lexa’s fight against King Roan, the murder of the Ice Queen. Finding the army, stopping Lexa from retaliation, Emerson being gifted to Clarke, Octavia arriving, Murphy arriving, Lexa’s death. And despite the dark subject matter, you can almost pretend that you’re all just a normal group of friends, laying out in the sun, catching each other up on your lives. You can almost forget that your people need to be saved. Again. 

But Octavia is the first to remind you, and after checking on the rover and seeing the battery full, you know it’s time to go, so you all pile into the rover again, this time with you behind the wheel and Bellamy beside you, ready to make the last bit of the trip home. 

-

You’re close to Arkadia when Raven finally looks up from Becca’s notebook, her voice full of awe. “Becca's journal is amazing. At 26, she found a pathway to access the human mind. That same year, she had to lock up Alie because her answer for what was wrong with the world was 'too many people'. She was 27 when it launched the bombs.”

You glance over at Bellamy, who is half turned in his seat, listening. Clarke asks, “What did she write about the Flame?”

“Alie 2.0. She saw it as a way to atone for her sins. She designed it to not just access a human mind, but to merge with one. It could never wipe us out because it would be one of us. She would put it in herself first, altered her genes so her body wouldn't reject the implant.”

Clarke hums. “Bekka Pramheda, the first Commander. The gene therapy made her blood black, didn't it?”

“Yeah.”

Octavia glances at Clarke in surprise. “How did you know that?”

“Nightblood, that's where it came from. Somehow, it became hereditary. Luna has it, which is why we have to find her, because if she can access Alie 2...”

“She can tell us how to stop Alie 1,” you finish for her.

Bellamy turns back to the front, and when he sees where you are, he tells the others, “Eyes sharp, weapons hot. We're almost home.”

You grab the radio, ready to warn the others. “Miller, come in.”

You receive no response, so you try again. “Harper, you there? Your ride's two minutes out.”

You are met with silence, and the heavy feeling of panic washes through you. You exchange a worried glance with Bellamy as Jasper muses, “Good start.”

When you reach the edge of the woods, Bellamy puts a hand on your arm. “Stop here.”

You stop the rover as he turns and looks at the others. “Monty, you take the wheel, Raven you’re up front with him. Jasper, you’re in the turret, and the rest of us are outside the rover, walking alongside it. I want eyes on all sides.”

No one argues, grabbing up their weapons and taking up their positions before Bellamy motions for Monty to drive the rover into camp, slowly. As you get closer, you can see that the gate is wide open, which Clarke also notices. “We left two days ago, why haven't they fixed the gate?”

“Maybe because there's no one here to fix it.”

As the rover rolls through the gate and into Arkadia, you are met with nothing but silence. No guards, no kids, no Pike, no Grounders, nothing. You feel a heavy pit in your stomach as you turn to Bellamy. “It's like a ghost town.”

Bellamy lifts his radio and asks, “Miller, where the hell are you?”

When he receives no answer, he turns to you, shaking his head. “I don't like this.”

“I don't either.”

Jasper looks around, then glances down at Bellamy. “Maybe they got chipped.”

“If they got chipped, they'd be waiting at the gate.”

“Maybe they saw the open gate, went in for Lincoln's book.”

Octavia glares up at him. “Maybe you should stop saying ‘maybe’.”

“If they’re chipped, then Alie already knows we're coming.”

Monty stops the rover on a small patch, allowing all of you to look around for any sign of something. Octavia walks over to your side of the rover, and she freezes in place beside you, causing you to look at her in alarm. You follow her gaze to the ground, finding a dark red stain in the mud. Blood. Lincoln's blood.

You swallow a wave of emotion, the sadness that threatens to rise to the surface, and Octavia never looks away from the spot as she snaps, “Let's get his book and get the hell out of here.”

“That's a plan I can support.”

Octavia runs back to the other side, and Clarke and Bellamy step up on either side of you, looking down at the blood stain. You whisper, “Lincoln.”

You can feel Bellamy tense up beside you, and he looks at the stain for a long second before he bangs on the back of the rover, signaling for Monty to keep moving. You all progress through the camp slowly, finding nothing as you maneuver the rover towards the hangar bay. Monty stops the vehicle inside before closing the door to the hangar bay quickly, leaving you all in partial darkness, the only light coming from the rover. 

You all walk through the hangar bay slowly, in a tight group, weapons drawn, looking at the scene before you. Half eaten plates of food, card games abandoned mid play, projects left incomplete. Clarke looks around in confusion. “It's like they just got up and walked away.”

Bellamy looks at the others. “We're in and out. Pack as much gear as you can into the rover.”

“I'll get the map.”

Jasper nods towards Octavia’s already retreating figure. “I'll uh...go with her. Probably shouldn't be alone.”

Raven gets out of the rover, and joins your group. “What's the rush? They won't be coming back.”

You turn to her, unconvinced. “How do you know?”

“Alie’s mission is to chip everyone. It wouldn't make sense to return to a place she's already taken.”

Sinclair shrugs, “Might make sense if there was someone in that place, i.e. you, who could tell us stuff like that.”

“Good point. Let's load gear.”

You turn to Bellamy, “Armory?”

“I’ll go with you.”

You nod and open the hangar bay door just enough for you to both slip through, not wanting to walk through the dark halls of Arkadia. You head across the camp to the armory, grunting in annoyance when you try to open the door but find it locked. Bellamy steps towards you, motioning for you to move away, “Step back.”

You do as he says and watch as he kicks the door in, and motions for you to go in first. You lift your weapon and step inside, looking around for anyone hiding in the shadows, but when you find nothing, you holster it and head straight for the rifles. Bellamy follows behind and you both pull open the doors, finding almost every weapon left behind. As you start digging through the containers beneath the rifles, you almost laugh with relief when you find case after case overflowing with bullets. Bellamy smiles at you, feeling the same excitement as he lifts his radio. “Everyone finish what you're doing and meet us in the armory.”

Clarke is the first to answer. “Why? What's going on?”

“You'll see when you get here. We just got lucky.”

“On our way.”

You turn to Bellamy, and nod towards the guns. “We’re gonna need bags to carry all this. I’m gonna go grab some.”

“I’ll go with you.”

You shake your head, waving him off. “No, don’t worry about it, I’ll be fine. Just stay here and wait for the others, I’ll only be gone for a minute.”

“Radio if you need me.”

“I will.”

You walk out of the armory and head to the room where they keep most of the extra inventory, sure that they have bags laying around in there. When you reach the small room and step inside, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand, though you don't know why. You look around in worry, searching the room for any sign of danger. You swear you see a shadow shift, and you reach for your gun, but before you can grab it, you’re knocked to the side. 

You turn around in surprise and open your mouth to scream when you come face to face with a Grounder in a skull mask. They swing an arm around to punch you, the hit landing on your cheekbone, the same one left bruised by Gillmer, and your scream dies in your throat. Your survival instincts kick in, and you scramble to your feet, away from the Grounder. You reach for your gun, pulling it from your holster, but as you lift it towards them, they knock the gun out of your hand, sending it flying across the room. 

You hear it slide across the ground and you use the distraction to close the space between you and the Grounder, swinging an elbow towards them, hitting them in the stomach. You hear the air leave their body in a whoosh, and they double over, grunting in pain, and you grab their head and pull it down towards your rising knee. You hear a crack as your knee makes contact with their face, and they pull away in pain, the move effectively removing their mask. You look up at the Grounder, surprised to see that it isn't a Grounder at all, but Emerson from Mount Weather.

“Of course you’d be the last Mountain Man.”

You drop the mask at your feet as he clutches his nose, blood rushing between his fingers. He shifts the bone, setting it back in place with a pop, before smirking at you. “You’re so much like your sister.”

For the first time in your life, the compliment chills you to the bone, because the information is not something that he should know. His smirk grows wider at the sign of your shock. “Imagine my surprise when I find out the great Wanheda has a weakness. A twin. Echo wasn't good for much, but she was good for that.”

You stand staring at him, trying to figure out what to do: run? Fight? Warn the others? You decide the the last option is the best, and you grab the radio from your belt with lightning speed, scrambling backwards as you rush out, “Bellamy, help-”

The rest of your plea is cut off when Emerson comes running at you full speed, crashing his body into yours, knocking you backwards and knocking the wind out of you. As you lay gasping for breath, Emerson gets to his feet and pulls you to yours, before spinning you around and wrapping his arm around your neck, trying to knock you out. You feel your feet lift off the ground and panic sets in as spots dance at the edge of your vision, unconsciousness on its way. The last thing you hear before the world goes dark, is Bellamy frantically calling your name over the radio, sounding worried.

-

The first thing you notice when you wake up is a growing ache in your shoulders. You pull your eyes open, and they land on your hands, tied to the wall above your head. A gag is pulled tight in your mouth, and you feel your anger grow. Someone to your right is trying to call your name, but it comes out muffled, and when you turn their way, you see Octavia, also chained to the wall, and also gagged. To your left you see Jasper and Raven, both chained up and sitting. Behind you, on the opposite wall is Miller, chained up like you and Octavia, and Monty, Harper, and Bryan are all chained like Jasper and Raven. 

You feel relief flow through you when you don't see Clarke or Bellamy amongst you, but that relief is short lived. Emerson steps into the room, and for the first time, you realize you’re all chained up in an air lock. He walks over to you and pulls the knife from the holster on your thigh, before grabbing your hair and pulling your head back. You hear the others try to yell through their gags, but it’s nothing more than a symphony of muffled cries. Emerson uses the hand in your hair to turn your head to the door of the airlock, and seconds later Clarke steps into view, hands raised in surrender. You try to yell at her through your gag, urging her to turn around and run, save herself, but none of that comes out. Her eyes fall on you, face etched in worry before she moves her gaze over to Emerson. “I held up my part of the deal. Your turn, let my friends go.”

He lifts the knife to your throat, pressing the blade into your skin slightly. “Tell Bellamy to show himself first.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

You can see Emerson nod his head once, annoyed, and he abruptly turns and punches Octavia in the stomach. She doubles over with a cry of pain, and a second later, Bellamy appears from around the corner, gun raised, yelling, “No!”

“Okay now, take out the clip and throw it down the hall. Put the gun on the ground and get inside.”

You and Octavia both protest the best you can, yelling at him to turn around and run. When Bellamy takes too long to do as Emerson says, he steps away from you and grabs Octavia, yanking her head back and dragging your knife across the skin of her chest, cutting her. The sight of her blood is enough to send Bellamy into action. “Okay, okay! Just stop!”

He pulls out the clip and tosses it down the hall, before tossing the gun down the other. He slowly reaches down and discards his knife and radio the same way, before walking towards the airlock with his hands raised. Emerson nods to a third pair of cuffs on the wall, beside you. “Those are yours.”

Bellamy locks himself in place, and Emerson pushes Octavia away from him, stepping back. He pulls out a gun and lifts it, pointing it at your twin, “Get on your knees, Clarke.”

You start to struggle, trying to slip yourself from your cuffs. Beside you, Octavia is also trying to escape, using her feet to push off the wall and create tension on the cuffs. Both of you struggle to no avail, as Clarke sinks to her knees. Emerson yells, “Put your hands behind your head.”

She does as she is told, and he keeps the gun trained on her as he steps out of the airlock and presses a button, sealing the door closed. You feel your panic start to rise as he closes the space between himself and Clarke, and she starts to beg, voice sounding muffled through the thick doors. “No, you can do anything you want with me. Just let them go!”

He grabs her by the hair and pulls her to her feet, before he pushes her towards the door, pressing her face into the glass and forcing her to watch you. He lifts the gun to her head and wraps an arm around her throat, cutting off her airway, and you struggle harder, trying to free yourself. 

“You murdered 381 people. You took the lives of my children, my brother, my friends. Did you really think that I would be happy with just one life in return, hmm?”

He loosens his hold slightly and Clarke struggles to breath as he pulls her back towards the control panel for the airlock. He presses a button and a red light starts to flash in the small space, the voice on the P.A. system announcing, “Airlock 5. Oxygen venting.”

Dread lands heavy on your stomach as you realize what he’s doing, killing all of you, and forcing Clarke to watch. He presses her up against the door again, giving her a front row seat, but you struggle to pay attention as the oxygen gets sucked from the room. Every one of you immediately starts to struggle for breath, and you pull hard against your cuffs, your fight or flight instinct kicking in. You can feel the metal biting into your wrists, breaking skin, blood already blooming there. You feel the burn in your lungs start grow, the lack of oxygen getting worse, making you feel heavy and useless. 

The fight starts to leave you, and your body sags, all of your weight supported by the cuffs around your wrists. Bellamy and Octavia are in the same state, struggling to breathe, and you hear Octavia let out a desperate cry for Bellamy. You turn towards him, but he’s already looking your way, gaze flitting between his sister and you. You glance over at Clarke, watching as she struggles against Emerson, sobbing, before your gaze moves back to Bellamy again. Your body grows heavier with each passing second, until your legs can no longer support you, and you hang there, watching Bellamy. 

His eyelids flutter close, the fight leaving his body, and yours do the same, the energy leaving your body at an alarming rate. You try to ignore the burn in your lungs as your body gasps for air, taking what oxygen it can as the rest is sucked out. You feel yourself start to lose consciousness, and you know it’s just a matter of time before you take your last breath. You feel regret that your relationship with Bellamy is still rocky, and that’s how it’ll end, with Bellamy full of guilt and acting distant. Just as the darkness starts to take over, leading you towards death, you suck in a deep breath of air, rich with so much oxygen it makes you dizzy. 

You don't question it, you just sag against your restraints and pull in deep gasps of air, letting your senses return to you slowly. You feel hands brush over yours, and your cuffs are unlocked, releasing you. Someone catches you as your weak knees fail to support you, and lower you to the ground. You open your eyes and see Clarke in front of you, blood spread over her cheekbone, smiling in relief. You smile back and she pulls you in for a hug, bone crushingly tight, but you don't care. She pulls away and Bellamy is there next, pressing kisses onto your face and your hair as he checks you over. 

Everyone stays in the airlock for a while, gathering oxygen and strength, before someone mutters, “Can we please get the hell out of our almost coffin?”

There’s a collective sound of agreement as everyone pulls themselves to their feet and trudges out of the airlock. Bellamy helps Octavia and Clarke helps you, and as you walk by Emerson’s body, you pull out of her grip and kneel down beside him. He looks terrible, blood dripping from nearly every orifice, and you ask, “What happened?”

“The Flame. If you take the Flame without Nightblood, the Flame takes your life.”

“Intense.” You shake your head, and start to dig through his pockets. 

“What are you doing?”

You glance at your twin, before returning to your search. “Getting what belongs to me.”

You feel your hand close around the familiar handle, and you pull your knife from his jacket with a smile, before returning it to its rightful place in your thigh holster. Then you stand and follow the others back to the hanger bay, away from near death.

-

The drama of the night continues upon your return to the hangar bay, where you discover Sinclair’s body. Clarke bandages everyone’s wounds as Bellamy takes charge and directs half of the group to construct a funeral pyre in the center of camp, and the other half to go to the armory and start loading weapons so you’re ready for anything. You follow Bellamy and some of the others to the armory, but halfway through you notice him slip away. You sneak after him, watching as he slips out of camp, beyond the walls. You follow, keeping your distance, doing your best to stay quiet, but it's not long before Bellamy turns around and finds you in the shadows. “You’re not nearly as quiet as you think you are.”

“Damn.” You shrug and step out of the shadows, opting to walk at his side. You don't bother to ask where you're going, his demeanor clearly closed off and not open to conversation. You walk for a few minutes into the woods before Bellamy stops, and points at a strip of white fabric reflecting in the moonlight. As you walk closer to it, you realize it’s a body, and you have a sneaking suspicion of whose as you drop to your knees and pull back the fabric around the head. 

Your eyes fall on Lincoln and your tears instantly start falling, mourning the loss of your friend, properly, for the first time since you witnessed his death. Bellamy lets you cry for a few minutes, kneeling beside you with an arm wrapped around you, until he whispers, “Grounders burn their dead.”

You understand what he means and you stand and step back, allowing him to lift Lincoln in his arms. You walk by his side as he carries him back to camp, and as you walk through the front gates, your eyes seek out Octavia. She’s kneeling with her back to you, loading up ammo, and Monty puts a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. Everyone turns your way as Bellamy carries Lincoln into camp, laying him down softly at Octavia’s feet. 

She shifts over to Lincoln, pulling the fabric away from his face to see him one last time. A brokenhearted sob breaks free from her, and she starts to cry over her dead lover. There’s nothing the rest of you can do, other than watch on in sorrow, allowing her the chance to mourn. When her cries die down, she presses a kiss to Lincoln’s head and then steps back, allowing Bellamy to lift Lincoln and carry him over to the pyre, where Sinclair’s body is already waiting. 

Bellamy puts Lincoln down on the other end, and the rest of you spread out around the pyre. You ready the torch and light it, passing it to Octavia. She waits, allowing Raven to say her goodbyes to Sinclair, and when she steps back, Octavia moves forward, lighting the pyre and stating, “Yu gonplei ste odon.”

Your fight is over. She steps away from the pyre as the fire spreads and the rest of you repeat the words as you watch the bodies catch fire. You reach for her hand and she lets you take it, accepting the comfort you offer. You stand there watching for a while, all of you lost in your own heads, quietly mourning the loss of Lincoln and Sinclair. It’s hard for you to accept the fact that Lincoln is really gone. He’s not just away looking for someone, or playing diplomat in a nearby village, he’s dead, lost to the rest of you forever, killed by a fascist asshole. You’ll never get to see him put Bellamy on his ass during a sparring session again, he’ll never finish teaching Trigedasleng. He’ll never offer you comfort when you’re hurting, or joke about how overprotective Octavia and Bellamy are. His body is in front of you, alongside Sinclair’s, overtaken by flames, as tradition states.

You can feel Octavia tense beside you, tucking away her sadness before she breaks the silence. “It’s time to go. I'll get the map.” 

She abruptly turns and walks away, and when you and Bellamy lock eyes across the fire, you can see the concern in them. You give him a reassuring smile, your way of saying she’ll be okay, though you’re not sure if you believe it yourself. You feel a drop of water land on your forehead, and you look up just as more start to fall, the sky mourning Lincoln and Sinclair with you. 

-

Everyone heads back to the armory, grabbing the discarded weapons and ammo and taking them back to the rover, loading everything as quickly as you can. Once everything is packed up, you all gather around the rover, and Bellamy looks at Raven, who looks like she’s going nowhere. “Hey, we're leaving. Why aren't you ready?”

“We're not going with you.”

Clarke starts to protest, “Raven-”

“I can barely walk and my shoulder's killing me, but my brain is all kinds of awesome.”

Monty looks at her with admiration. “She remembered that Alie downloaded herself into the Ark mainframe. If it's still there, we can find a back door.”

“I'm guessing once you connect Alie 2 to Luna, we'll need to find Alie 1 to take her down.”

Bellamy turns to Miller and gives him a serious look. “Miller.”

Miller motions between himself and Bryan. “We'll keep them safe.”

Harper smirks and points to them. “I'll keep them safe.”

Bellamy turns to Jasper. “How about you? It's gonna be dangerous.”

“You know me well. I'm in.”

He already knows he doesn't have to ask you, Octavia, or Clarke, because you were always in, no matter what. Everyone says their goodbyes, hugging and waving to each other as one group prepares to leave, and the other stays behind. Once the goodbyes are said and a chorus of “may we meet agains” has been exchanged, Bellamy walk to the drivers side and gets in. You take the passenger seat while Clarke, Octavia, and Jasper all get in the back.

 As soon as everyone’s inside, you turn to look at them. “Ready to save our people?”

“Let’s do this thing.”

-

next chapter

[salt-is-a-terrible-currency]

Of course he likes Westerns

Din Djarin x ofc Maike

For Writer Wednesday, arranged by @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape

This drabble is set in the same universe as The Hunter and the Consigliere.

Also tagging: @captainpoopweinersoldier @brightlycoloredteacups @spacedadmando @startrekkingaroundasgard @buckysxgal @whateverpersonsstuff @noshame-bb @rayslittlekitten @darkravenqueen98 @t-r-i-s-h-a-w @dreamxcollide @kingdomblvck @anjodedesgostoeerros @badedum-badaboom

Words: 1 170

Rating: Mature

Warnings: PMS/cramps, brief mention of childhood poverty, fluff, mentioned/referenced sexy times, age gap (Maike is 22 at the time of this)

Opa = grandfather

Onkel = uncle

~*~

There’s never been a lack of food and snacks in your Opa Derya’s kitchen. He doesn’t like to talk about it but you know he sometimes went hungry as a kid and so now his people, related by blood or not, are always well-fed. Currently, the kitchen is occupied only by Djarin and you. Your grandfather, uncle and the staff have already eaten dinner but the mercenary just arrived back at the estate and is helping himself to leftover dolma. He watches, with no small amount of amusement, as you raid the pantry. Popcorn, paprika flavoured chips and one large bottle of soda all goes into your arms. The choice of chocolates is what stumps you. You select two, white chocolate with lemon and milk chocolate with peanuts, then turn and hold them both out for Din in a wordless question. He raises an eyebrow, like to silently ask if you can even carry that much. You stretch your arms even higher. Just pick one, Din.

He indicates the white chocolate with a raised index finger. Satisfied with your loot, and Din’s choice, you close the pantry and shuffle everything around in your arms so that you won’t drop it on the way to the smaller house which you share with your cousins. You brush past him, closer than necessary, and his hand lands at the small of your back. Stopping you without grabbing you. He glances at the closed door leading to the living room where Opa Derya and Onkel Thomas are watching TV, judging by the sounds. You lean in closer so Din can whisper.

“One hour.” He promises, eyes still on the door. His hand disappears from your back, so quickly that it might never have been there to begin with.

Of course he likes westerns. Din kept his promise: showed up at your house an hour after your food gathering mission with a DVD hidden in his jacket. You might have already gotten into the popcorn while waiting for him. While he busies himself with starting the TV, you study the cover. A group of men, all of them wearing cowboy hats, on horseback. The Magnificent Seven.

"This is the movie you chose?" The title sounds vaguely familiar and you wouldn’t be surprised to find a copy in your uncle’s movie collection. Din plops down next to you on the couch. Pets across the worn leggings you changed into after giving up on studying.

"It is."

"We have a night to ourselves, and this is how you want to spend the time?" You tease. It took some convincing but your cousins both agreed to evacuate the house for the night. Bekka went to a friend, and Johannes to his friend. Uncle Thomas was reluctant but eventually he let them go. You, being the responsible young adult that you are, said you needed to study. And you did, until the cramps and the knowledge that Din would spend the night got too distracting.

"It's only two hours long,” he smiles “There'll be time for other things as well." The way he says it makes you duck your head down, hiding behind the mess of thick curls.

"Like cuddling?" You ask. Cuddling seems like a childish request considering how the nights usually go. There is cuddling, it just usually happens after. He offered to get you off early this morning when you noticed the stain on the sheets, said he didn’t mind the blood. You hesitated. It’s not that you don’t want Din it’s just that, well, you’re uncomfortable. And afraid. That it will hurt too much, that it will get messy and creep him out. You left the offer unanswered and he didn’t push the matter. Din shrugs.

"Nothing stopping us from doing that while watching too." He opens his arms in an invitation but before you can settle in, bowl of snacks in your lap, he pauses. Glances at the front and back door.

"Doors are locked, right?" He asks. Like you would have forgotten the routine.

“Yes,” you confirm, then add “And curtains drawn.” Din, your sweet Din, isn’t supposed to be here. Thomas might have an aneurysm and Sasha might fly into a rage if they were to find out how the mercenary that your grandpa hired has been spending a good portion of his nights. It’s unprofessional. Irresponsible. Both things that neither him or you are supposed to be. To Thomas and Sasha it won’t matter that you’re an adult capable of choosing who to sleep with. You settle with your back against his chest and he brushes your hair over one shoulder so he can press a kiss to your cheek.

It’s not your kind of movie but you appreciate the glimpse into Din’s mind: he’s not great at sharing personal facts. Between the way his arms wrapped around you at the beginning of the movie and the dim light of the room, you’re almost asleep by the time credits begin to roll.

"How are you feeling?" He carefully puts a hand on your belly.

"Tired,” you admit, twisting your fingers into the front of your t-shirt “and my stomach hurts." The nausea is gone and at least your food cravings have been thoroughly satisfied. Din makes a soothing noise, burying his face into your hair.

"Want to go to sleep?" He asks in a muffled voice. Maybe. It would be nice. But you don’t want to waste the opportunity to do something other than hiding in your room out of respect for your cousins. You shake your head in response and Din strokes your belly. You hate your body for deciding that this was the day to give you one of maybe three periods you have every year since getting on birth control. It makes you feel gross, like you’re smelly and sweaty and like your underwear is chafing at your skin. Just about everything becomes more annoying. You want to sleep, you want to spend time with Din, you want to feel fresh.

"Shower with me?" The suggestion comes out like a question, mumbled and shaky. Din’s chest rises suddenly with an intake of air. He sits up a little straighter, runs a hand down your side and across your upper thigh.

"Okay." He agrees. Christ, he’s seen you naked, what are you so nervous about? You twist in his arms as best as you can. Cup the back of his neck to bring him into a kiss. He responds to you so quickly, like he’s been waiting this entire time for you to touch him and is ready to go down whatever path you lead him whether it is just going to sleep or having sex on the living room floor. His offer is a little tempting. But not tonight.

“And then sleep.” You say against the corner of his mouth.

“Right.” He agrees and he begins to release you so that you can get up from the couch. Maybe tomorrow you’ll take him up on his offer.

[kebinwooo]

ult group game!

thanks @2bosoos for tagging me in this!! sorry it took me so long to get to this. i literally have like no excuse HAHA but your answers were super interesting to read!

for: ukiss (had to narrow it down to my ult of ults or else this would become a REALLY long post lol)

1. who was your first bias?

kevin! i barely remember why he became my first bias tho LMAO probably just thought he was very pretty and 11 year old me was a very superficial human being 

2. who is your bias now?

kevin and junyoung! ngl i sometimes think kevin is only my bias now out of loyalty lol but i love love love junnie! i think he’s one of the most talented idols to exist (a singer, rapper, dancer and actor all wrapped in one!!) and also a super humble, down-to-earth kid. i mean there’s a reason why so many people are friends with him and have such good things to say about him and idk i just really think ukiss raised him well and made him the thoughtful, hard-working idol he is today ;;

3. what was the first mv you watched by them?

my memory’s super fuzzy around this but it was probably either manmanhani or shut up... all i remember was that i heard one of their songs on a kpop end of the year mashup and i was like OOOO THIS SONG SOUNDS GOOD and i checked them out afterwards lol

4. what’s your favourite mv?

i’m apparently basic for saying this but neverland!! idk something about that mv was just VERY good and that’s what launched me into actually being a kissme so it holds a special place in my heart hehe

i’m also really into tick tack, which i still think is the best japanese debut song a kpop group has ever released lol 

5. if you could only listen to one of their songs for the rest of your life, which would it be?

lmao if you know me, the song choice is already obvious AHHA it would be someday! that song really feels like healing for me. like it encourages me yet comforts me and idk i just love it so much ;; 

i also wouldn’t mind if i could only listen to heartless! that song is an absolute banger and i’m STILL disappointed they never performed it live/it wasn’t their title song for their last comeback as ot6 ;;

6. who would you want to see them collab with?

seventeen!! seungkwan is the co-president of kissmes (alongside jaejae, the woman who singlehandedly revived ukiss’s career last year LOL) and several of the other svt members are also fanboys and it makes me so so so happy ;u; soohyun also covered aju nice a while back and ABSOLUTELY SLAYED IT (we love a vocal king) so i need them to collab on something. hell, i’ll even take a ballad collab, JUST FEED THIS KISSMECARAT

7. what (mv) concept do you want to see them do?

LMAO i’m not picky bc i want them to just give me a comeback!!!! i mean they technically did have a comeback already but only with two members so really my point is that i won’t ask for anything much, just please give ot3 a comeback with proper promotion @ NH Media!!!

8. have you ever had a dream with any of the members in it?

i don’t think so? i don’t ever dream of idols anyways so if they did appear, it would probably be like me talking about them in my dream rather than actually seeing them in my dream lol

9. if you could spend a day with one member, who would it be and what would you do?

it would either by junyoung or soohyun! junnie would be super fun to hang out with bc he seems like such a chill dude and i really like when hes in his element and enjoying himself. as for soohyun tho, he finds so much joy in the little things that i’m like ;u; yes pls lets hang out dude, it’ll be such a good time. also i want to meet his niece and nephew who are ABSOLUTELY PRECIOUS OH MY GOD 

alternatively.... i am also down to hang out with kiseop but for the ulterior motive of meeting his wife LOL 

10. which member do you think you would get along with best?

soohyun makes me laugh SO hard bc he’s kinda unpredictable and has no boundaries. like he really doesnt have to try to be funny, he just IS lmao so i think i would end up having the time of my life even if we just chatted with each other LOL 

11. which member do you think you would argue with?

.....aj but that’s because i actually want to punch the dude in the face for being a snake towards the other members

ummmm i have no idea?? i don’t really see any of their personalities clashing with mine in any way that would lead to arguments?? LOL maybe i’ll argue with hoon for the fun of it bc hes really funny when he gets sulky but he won’t hold a grudge like soohyun would HAHA

12. if you had to let one member scroll through your tumblr, who would it be?

hmmm i think i would choose jun? i mean i did do a lot of embarrassing screaming about him on this blog but i think i’d want him to know how much i admire and love him and want good things for him and i think my tumblr kind of encapsulates that bc i can’t count how many times i’ve said i’m proud of him in my tags HAHA

tagging: @xfirebenderx and @bookwan and @pjminyard (👀 bekka are you here idk why i felt like tagging you but imma do it) but feel free to ignore as well!