doomdays

[doomdays]

her eyes narrow in on him,   jaw clenched in anger,   because of course their father is doing this,   playing a game of tug-a-war with callie,  her brother in the middle.    can’t reese see what he’s doing —  using reese as his own pawn,   weaponizing him against his own sister?     she’s desperate to wake reese up,  to make him see that he’s falling for their father’s bullshit exactly the way he knew he would,  but it’s a fragile line they walk.   she sees through reese,  too.   she sees his insecurities,  how desperate he is to prove something to their father —  she also knows it’s impossible.  it’s not reese’s fault that their father has such unreasonable, unrealistic standards,  he’s living in his own world,  and callie’s on the other side of it,  desperately trying to bring reese along.

❝  world’s biggest manipulator warns you i’m going to call him out —  shocking, ❞   she says in a mocking tone,  trying not to falter under reese’s stare,  because she can see it,  the way he seems to have already dismissed what she said in favor or what her father so conveniently warned him about.  

he poses like the perfect disciple and it makes her stomach turn.

❝  i blame him because he’s the problem,  ❞   she reminds,  as if that part is obvious.   ❝  not just with me,  or mom,  or you.   with everyone.   you have friends in there, reese — friends who are giving away their lives for what?  ❞   though if he can’t see why she and his mother left,  maybe that’s not the right approach,  either.   he cares about what their father says,  and their father isn’t going to miss a beat.

she freezes when he steps closer,   not because she’s afraid of him doing something   (  she’s always known how to defend herself against him, and she’s always been ready  )  —  but because,  as predictable as their father can be sometimes,  she doesn’t really know just how desperate he’s gotten since he lost half his family,  and the idea of him sending reese here to do his dirty work makes her hesitant to take reese too seriously. 

her eyes look around,  hand waving vaguely.   ❝  you know where a family belongs?   in a home.  together,  ❞   she turns it around on him,   the idea of the second dawn being a real ‘home’ to anyone making her sick,  again.    ❝  the second dawn isn’t a home.  it’s a cage.   haven’t you thought that before?  ❞    she’s taking a chance,   hoping maybe,  he has.   her arms cross tightly over her chest and she shakes her head.   ❝  no.  he wants us to hide.  you don’t get it,  because you haven’t actually taken the chance to live,  but — i do.   ❞    maybe she’s only seen it for a few months,  but that’s still more than she ever got when living with her father.   ❝  and i’d rather die actually living my life than spend the rest of it hiding from something that never comes.  ❞

because that’s the real irony of it all,  right?  their father doesn’t know anything.  but he convinces everyone otherwise,  until they give their entire lives to his cause — to him.  even his own son.   reese is going to live and die in there.

❝  your room is still here,  ❞   she blurts,  almost as if it’s against her own will,   but she wants him to know he has a place.   ❝  i redecorated mine.   because,  you know,  it’s mine now,  ❞   she points out,  because while it might have still been her room before,  their life was so different then.  all this structure that suffocated her is now gone — and she feels much  more free,   more her,  as she figures out who that is.   she often wonders how reese would decorate his if he had the chance.   she’s also afraid that room will never be occupied again.   ❝  mom and i promised not to touch it.   for when you do want to come home.  ❞    hopefully, that’s not just wishful thinking. 

her eyes roll,  and she nods her head,  staring back at him blankly.   ❝  you did.  because i thought we were going to take on the world together.   dad trained us to be like that.    he’s the one we should be fighting.  ❞    but reese isn’t going to hear that,  and she’s not sure why she’s pretending he will.  

hearing that he misses her too doesn’t make her feel any better.   it only makes her feel farther from him.    

❝  then come home,  ❞   she pleads,  again,  reiterating that this is home,   not the second dawn.   she takes a chance,  wondering if he’ll budge at all.   ❝  even…  every now and then. ❞   would he?   would it be enough for callie to show him what more life has to offer?   ❝  would you?  ❞

he can't help but feel a little vindicated, a small sense of triumph swelling within him. reese feels it light up his features, brow arching as his mouth twists into a malformed grin, a hollow laugh spilling from him, palm slapping across his lips in a pantomime of amusement. "that's exactly what he said you'd say," reese manages around his fingers, and this predictability - this assurance that his father is correct - offers unimaginable relief; reese allows himself to sink into it, finding strength and solace, enough of both that he's able to flit his eyes marginally closer to his sister's - studying the bridge of her nose, features so similar to the ones he sees in the mirror. he blinks the thought away and drops his arms heavily to his side so that he can clasp his fingers together at his hips, the perfect picture of a disciple of the second dawn.

"dad always says you'll blame him, and he was right." their father did say as well that callie would play games with his head - but isn't that exactly what she's doing by pointing it out? deflecting, pointing fingers; making reese feel small and stupid and incapable of an original thought. their father's said as much a dozen times to reese since callie and their mom left; reassured reese with a warm hand on his shoulder that he'll always be willing to listen - anytime he's not busy with second dawn business. you understand, reese. the future is important.

callie was told the same thing; how does she not see it anymore? i'm your sister, she says, and reese feels a desperate need to agree. "i know you are," he says emphatically, unable to keep his voice from being strained and pulled taut. the muscles of his neck stiffen slightly beneath the weight of emotion, eyes round and pleading. "that's why i'm here. because you're my sister. we're all a family. we should be together." without thought, he steps forward. it feels like it's been years since he's been this close to callie, though it's only been months; but this house feels unfamiliar, too bright with its windows. nothing like the bunker. the space presses almost unbearably against him, almost oppressive in its abundance. "the only life is with the second dawn, callie." his tone is plaintive; quiet and hushed and brimming with an urgency. his breath catches and reese swallows audibly. "he built us a chance to live, and you're giving that up."

of course there's still a place for callie and their mom. rooms set aside that reese stands in sometimes, wishing they were there; replaying those last conversations in his head as he'd dust and sweep, ensuring they were perfect for their return. bill caught him once doing so, and only looked at reese emotionlessly before walking away, hardly speaking a word to him the rest of that night. but he kept up the routine regardless of his father's disapproval.

a small act of defiance. he almost wonders if he should tell callie.

the thought flees from his mind, however, at this quiet admission, and reese, startled, finally looks at his sister, meeting her eyes. he stands in silence for a moment; his vision blurs slightly; it takes a moment to understand he's started crying. when the thought manages to register, a hand quickly raises to swipe at the tears, his fingers curling to a fist around them - almost as if to keep them safe.

"i didn't go anywhere." it sounds accusatory and childish and reese hates himself for it. his jaw sets and his mouth puckers - but he returns the sentiment. of course he does. it's a relief to hear it from her in a way reese doesn't want to admit.

"i miss you too, calamity." but it's not enough. it won't bring her or their mom back. reese already knows this, knows he's giving her ammunition, room to try and divide him from bill, but since he knows that, so surely it's safe to express this feeling. surely their dad would understand that. "at least that's something we agree on."

[doomdays]

his words bring about a small, proud grin from her, because she's always liked the idea of being able to help people — but maybe that was just to spite her father,  knowing he was doing anything but,  under the guise of saving them all.    but she also thinks that it was always supposed to be that way — that there was a reason she never fit with the second dawn or their ideals,  that she’d inevitably walk away and find her own path,  something she could be proud of — and while she might not have entirely found that yet,  she feels like she’s getting somewhere.

but she’s desperate to move so much faster,  to prove to him that she can do it.  without him.  without her brother.  without the second dawn.

she’s here to reflect,  to find others like her rather than people who are forced together by a false idea with empty promises,  and it does help,  even on the days she can’t help her mind from wandering—    could she imagine reese here someday?    is there even a chance he could get to that point?   she looks at gideon and longs for her brother,  wishing they could meet.  

❝  i know who not to listen to.   doesn’t mean i know what to say, ❞   she points out with a small laugh,  but she wonders if that’s even true — because maybe,  there is a world where she could be someone to follow without it being some power trip like the one she was raised under.  

she lets out a sigh,  brushing it off before she looks back to him.   ❝  i think you have a lot to say, too. ❞ and even if she hasn't heard much of it yet, he's here, and that's not nothing. he's trying. so is she. ❝  and it doesn't matter when you're ready to say it, as long as you keep looking forward, not back. at least, that's what i keep telling myself. i know that doesn't make it easy, either. ❞

@doomdays: it's better this way. (callie + gideon)

he's unable to mask his surprise, blinking at the statement, a little uncertain of how to respond. it typically takes participants of the group months or years to reach this level of reflection - gideon's own journey was certainly a slow crawl. but callie seems to lack the guilt he'd felt, the worry, and he can't help but stare in amazement.

but it quickly threatens to dip into uncomfortable, the staring. gideon recognizes this, and clears his throat, laughing a little awkwardly. "wow," he says. "maybe you should be counseling people, not me."

[doomdays]

they’re just kids.   she repeats their words in her head,   over and over,  until she reaches the same conclusion she knows she can’t avoid—   they’re not all just kids.    it’s something she fought herself on so many times when she first learned of her mission to find the assets,  and specifically,  hope.   hope was just a kid,   huck had told herself.  she told her mother that, too.  she could see it in hope’s eyes,  every time she spoke of the city and how desperate she was to leave —  that she wasn’t prepared for what was coming if she left,  and that hopefully,  she’d lean on huck to see it through.   

but then hope left on her own,  without huck,  without felix.  huck goes back and forth on it — is she bitter her plan hadn’t worked out the way she hoped for it to,   leaving her scrambling to figure out how to ditch the others in pursuit of her mission with hope,   or can she tell whether this is a sign that hope is mature enough to get to where she needs to go?  

hope is just a kid—   but she’s not.   she’s the future.  and once they get to the RF,  she’s going to have to grow up fast.   huck wants to be able to tell her it’s for the best,  because it’s for the greater good,  and it’s going to give her a purpose that she’s clearly been longing for.   huck also can’t shake the fact that she loves this kid,  and she wants to take care of her beyond what her mission is.   she doesn’t get to do that, though — so she can’t think of it that way.  

❝  not anymore,  they’re not,  ❞     she mutters back,  her nose scrunching up as she glances over to them,  watching as the teens laugh along to the stories they tell each other,  blissfully unaware that at any moment,  a horde of empties could interrupt,  or worse,  strangers who don’t hesitate to shoot.   like she was taught.    she shakes her head,  rubbing at the sweat of her forehead.   ❝  we wanna protect ‘em from the world out here—   i get it.  ain’t that easy, though.  even behind those walls.   they can’t really know what it’s like until they see it for themselves,  yeah?  ❞     hope needs that,  she needs to see the world so she knows what she can do for it,  so she can want it.   

❝  we just can’t let ‘em get too caught up in the quiet times,   ‘cause it ain’t always gonna be this peaceful.  ❞   the thought prompts her to look around again,  trying to hide her paranoia — of course, it's not just the empties or the threat of a passerby that she fears.   it’s in the feeling of being watched,  like her mother waiting for her to slip up,  ready to come out and expose her not only to her friends,  but to the CRM as a failure.  she shakes it off.

she stares at them for a long moment,   calculating in her mind what to say,  how much truth to give.   she needs jay to trust her,  she also needs them to be ready for the moment if it comes.    ❝  like you said—-  ❞    she starts,  looking away from jay,   back to the road ahead,  shoulders shrugging like it’s something they’ve thought a thousand times before.   ❝  if it’s between us and someone else,  ❞    she says,  hoping that gives them everything they need to know:   yes.   she’s killed.   she’ll kill again.   someday, she might have to kill them.   there’s that guilt again — jay doesn’t deserve that,  and yet,  she’ll be telling herself it’s for the greater good anyway.  

❝   was out in the shit too long,  y’know?   i know how to read people.   know when things are turnin’ for the worst.   know when they’re ready to strike.   y’gotta be faster,  smarter.  ❞    she nods towards jay.   ❝  you got good instincts.  we’re lucky to have ya out here.  ❞    it’s attempt to smooth over her initial irritation for their company,  knowing jay’s volunteering was just another obstacle for huck in the end.  

the further they venture from home, the more anxious they get. it'd been impulsive to tag along, and felix's initial frustration about jay's presence hadn't gone unnoticed - though he'd hardly taken it personally. chalked it up primarily to the anxiety that felix must've felt finding the girls gone with little more than a note; who could blame him? there's still some tension simmering beneath the surface even now that they've caught up to the kids, walking ahead on the overgrown path, jay watching their step to avoid the occasional bit of detritus built up in the decade after the end of the world: glass glittering brightly in the sun, cans and boxes and fallen branches. the crunch of dead leaves is comforting in a way, reminiscent of childhood and days spent after school running drills on his own - but the nostalgia is only so reassuring; every step forward is a reminder that they don't really know what's awaiting at the end of the line.

or even around the corner. it's been too quiet, jay thinks, since they've set out. a lack of survivors in the immediate vicinity of the campus made sense, but they're far beyond the borders of it now, and little sign of the living should encouraging, but it has the opposite effect: it makes his skin crawl. a relentless itch at the nape of his neck, every shadow making their heart stutter as their mind conjures shapes in them. jay's experience outside of the colony is minimal outside of the patrols they've picked up on days they technically had off - but there's stories, of course. of groups of marauders who steal and hurt and kill, of cannibals and warlords who thrive on the death of the world. the stuff of books and movies and told in hushed tones between guards on the walls and on patrols, each one insistent that their tale is true, that they'd heard it from CRM soldiers who've been across the country and the world and seen it all happen - stuff jay easily dismissed behind the comfort of their walls.

but being out now, he can't help but wonder if there's truth to any of it. if that rustle of a bush is an animal or a person; if that glass was shattered by a storm or the empties or people who are hiding inside. the thought makes him grip his s-pole tighter, makes him wish the holster strapped to his thigh actually contained a pistol, jaw tightening as he looks at huck, hoping to see some similar feeling in her face, to know it's not just him who's nervous and anticipating the worst.

so there's some relief to her response, a breath exhaled as they nod. jay's eyes dart back to the ground and then up to the sky again, the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown. "they're just kids," they murmur, almost as if to themself. "they shouldn't have to know. y'know?" but they do. maybe not all of it, huck is right on that, but they understand, deep down, what's been lost, he thinks. jay feels a surge of anger about the colony and how ineffective their preparation of the kids feels in retrospect - but how do you really teach anyone to live in this world?

but felix tried, jay thinks, feeling somewhat startled by huck's statement of felix, too. if anyone's suited to be out here, they think, it's him: even with his anxiety about the girls, felix seems every bit the leader out here that he's become to the colony's security force. jay wouldn't have followed him out here otherwise.

but huck's closer to him; she knows him better. maybe that's why the dual praise for felix and jay makes them smile, a small and private expression, lasting only a beat before they're shaking their head as if to clear it.

looking sideways towards huck, they reply, "i've never killed a person before, but if it's between us and someone else..." he pumps his shoulders in a half-hearted shrug. "like i said. sometimes violence is the only answer." he thwacks his s-pole against some tall grass as if to punctuate the point; uses the brief silence to build courage. jay's jaw works, words held within for a beat before they finally blurt out: "you were out here a while, right? did you ever... have to?"

[doomdays]

they don’t say anything for a long moment before finally letting out a scoff,   paired with the smallest hint of a grin.    ❝  figured you wouldn’t stop bugging me about it if i didn’t.  ❞   it’s a joke,  only because they actually enjoy the time they spend with jay,  and they know they’ve made that clear,  too.   agreeing to join him wasn’t actually a tough decision.   

sasha raises a brow,  finally turning to look up at him.   ❝  not a lot of competition,  ❞   they point out,  actually grinning now,   because while they’re teasing,  they’re also being serious.   they’re a perfect shot and they like when people know it.  ❝  i like getting out,  ❞   they say,  more serious now,   shoulders shrugging back to adjust their pack.   ❝  being inside the walls for too long can only make you weak.   not interested in falling behind.  ❞

they don't say that to insult them, sasha knows that jay has a good head on their shoulders. there's a reason they trust him, enough to walk side by side. ❝  i don't mind helping. as long as you can keep up. ❞

"thanks for agreeing to come with me." the crunch of grass beneath their boots is already enough to scare any game away, jay reasons, so he feels no compulsion to adhere to the silence required for hunting. besides, there's no real necessity for this trip beyond jay's restlessness and wanting to get out of campus for a few hours, so they can risk conversation; and asking sasha to accompany them has become routine anytime they venture outside the walls. it doesn't mean he's any less grateful each time they accept, though, and the beaming grin jay flashes as he looks sideways towards them is evidence of it, eyes bright with delight at their company.

"i've only been hunting once before, so i could use the help." assuming they have experience - but given their set of skills, jay presumes they do. his own is limited to a singular trip with his stepfather, the highlight of which had been jay failing to nail a buck by a country mile; robert had been amiable about it, bagging two himself and attributing one to jay without their permission. maybe they can finally make the score even, they think to themself, sliding their finger across the safety of their rifle. "you're the best shot out of... everyone, so i figure our chances are pretty good." ┆ @doomdays (sasha).

[doomdays]

You threw away everything we had, for what? No, no, we never had anything.

CLOWN IN A CORNFIELD (2025) dir. Eli Craig

[doomdays]

she’s always been hard on him,   and maybe if it was coming from someone else,   it wouldn’t be received as well.    but it’s her,    and not only does he respect her as a player,  he respects her as a person,   and it’s easy to take the criticism from her even if it comes out harshly —-  he knows she likes to sting.   he’s trained himself to take it,  to let it make him better.   

his expression falters,   like he’d been counting on asking for her help to bring her some kind of relief.   he should have known better.   it was never going to be enough for her —  and he knew that,  at least,  but he’s trying.   he doesn’t know who tashi duncan is without tennis — he knows she doesn’t,  either.   maybe that girl will never exist,   and if this is all she can have,   he wants to be there,  front and center,  ready to give anything he can.

❝  well—   no,  ❞    he mutters quickly,   taking a deep breath,   doing his usual mental gymnastics in trying to prove to her that he only means well   (  even if he knows that’s not true,   if some part of him is still hanging onto how easy it was to sacrifice the most important person in his life for a chance to be next to her.  but wasn’t that for the best, too?  )   ❝  i trust you,  ❞   he says,  hoping that helps.   ❝  i trust you know what’s best.   better than myself.  ❞    because already,  part of him knows that he doesn’t have the heart for the game that she does.  there’s always been some expiration date loosely in his head for it — and yet,  here he is,  offering himself to tashi,  determined to play the game more for her than he ever has for himself.   for as long as she needs.   he can do that.   he has to.

a small smile starts to tug at the corner of his lips,  like he’s won,  and it fades just as soon as he has the thought,   knowing she likely doesn't want to see his satisfaction.   ❝  i know you will,  ❞   he says confidently,   giving her a nod.   ❝  thank you.  really.  ❞

" no shit, you need some work. " tashi bites back, wiping those traitorous stray tears from puffy, swollen eyes. how embarrassing it is to fall apart in front of anyone, let alone to fall apart in front of him. there are moments where art donaldson is able to coax her into someone more gentle. allowing him to see her like this makes her feel like he's won. but, no, she will continue to be all barbed wire and sharp edges, even if she cannot compete. it's all she knows. fierce competition is what keeps her heart pumping. if she can't engage herself, then she'll have to get herself a proxy.

art, with his moon-eyes and desperate need to impress her fits the bill perfectly. she's already certain that she'll resent him every day for being able to do what she can't. hell, she already does and she's only just resigned herself to a future off the court.

being relegated to a life of sitting in the stands makes her sick to her stomach. every fiber of her being wants to reject his proposal, even if she knows it's her way to stay closest to the court right now. fuck. she's too good for this. she was on her way to the top.

she might as well be dead.

" so that's how this is gonna go? " tashi turns to him, head canted with curiosity. " what am i? your ball bitch now? " she's well aware that art is far from suggesting such a thing, but she can't take anything lying down.

" record your next practice. " she suggests. there's no way she's going down to the court to watch him. it's too soon. " i'll point out all your fuckups. "

[doomdays]

he can’t look at her,   and she uses that,  eyes scowling back at him,  refusing to look away—    but they’re not entirely full of anger.   they’re full of desperation,  sadness,  nostalgia.   she doesn’t miss the way they grew up nor the way they lived in the second dawn together,   but she does miss having her brother by her side —  and she also misses the little girl she once was when she believed that she and reese might be able to rely on each other.   she can’t rely on him now,  not if he continues to choose their father over her,  over mom,  over himself.   but part of her still believes that she might actually be able to break through to him,   that all hope isn’t lost for her brother.

not yet.

❝  waste of your time,  ❞  she shoots back instantly,  her eyes rolling at the irony.   her?  play games with his head?   that’s how they were raised,   and the difference between them is that callie saw through their father.  reese is still letting him win,  letting dad control him.   ❝  that sounds a lot like something he would make up, ❞    she points out,  assuming reese hasn’t decided on his own that callie is simply playing games.   she’s trying to convince him to leave because she loves him,   because he deserves to live a real, full life — the way she’s trying.  their father is only in this for himself, for the power that comes along with it.  sometimes she wonders if he even truly believes in his cause. 

she wonders that about reese, too.

her jaw clenches in anger,  because ‘he’s our father’ isn’t enough.  it’s the excuse she’s made for years,  telling herself that her own father would only ever want to do what was right for her.   but she grew up,  and she learned to think for herself,  and she realized he was only ever going to hurt her.  she sees it in reese,  too.  he’s hurting him.  he just refuses to feel it.  

❝  yeah,  reese,  ❞   she scoffs,  tone lightly mocking.   ❝  and i’m your sister.  ❞    and didn’t that mean something once?   when they were forced to fight each other in the basement but still held each other after,   spoken and unspoken promises to never actually hurt each other,  but here they are,  on different sides now,  and she’s never felt farther from him.   ❝  just because i’m the one who left doesn't mean i’m abandoning you.   i want a life, reese.   a real life.  i want you to have one, too.   you’re not getting that if you're stuck in dad's black hole of doom. he's never really been there, you know? he abandoned us the second he made that his priority over us. ❞

she's frustrated, annoyed, but she takes a deep breath, speaking softer now, hoping it might give him something to cling to: ❝  i miss you. ❞ 

@doomdays: you need to leave. (callie + reese)

he can't look at his sister. he's the one who sought this meeting out, lying to their father (a choice he elects to not examine too closely; reese doesn't want to face why he felt the need to lie about seeing callie) about where he'd be going - going so far as to leave his phone hidden at his fabricated destination in case he needed to sell it. so much subterfuge and he can't even look at his sister, his eyes cast squarely at his shoes, arms folded protectively across his chest, and he almost swears he can feel the second dawn logo on his shirt pressing against his skin.

reese chews relentlessly at his cheek, not stopping even when there's the faint, familiar trickle of blood (how many times did he taste it in his mouth in the basement? callie always hit him in the same spot, and he always saw it coming, but never blocked it); it's almost comforting, in a way. just like old times, calamity, he jokes to himself, and it manifests a snort that most likely sounds derisive and cold, the inverse of the affection he feels when thinking of their childhood.

but she expects cruelty from him, so reese can't help but give it; his lip curls to a sneer and his eyes lift halfway, offering the illusion of eye contact while focusing on a spot over her shoulder. there's a blank space on the dining room wall, the faint outline the only hint of the painting that used to hang there, the second dawn's symbol drawn carefully in reese's adolescent hand; he'd smeared paint across callie's cheek as she sat next to him, watching him create. the absence of it hits him (like her fist), punching the breath from his lungs, and the anger it instills fuels his reply.

"i came to try to convince you to come with me, not have you play games with my head." his lip trembles. reese feels a sudden tiredness seize him, and he rubs the heel of his hand harshly into his eye to try to stave it off. "he's our dad. you really think i'm just going to abandon him, too?"

[doomdays]

octavia reveals herself as the exhausted leader she is,   in some way,   dropping that armor that niylah always tries to encourage when it’s just the two of them.   niylah is going to respect her for the person she knows she has to be outside of these walls,   but she is also going to respect her for the person she is in the privacy between them,   a girl who has been fighting her entire life just to exist  —-   one who is beautiful in a way that she likely doesn’t realize,  nor probably ever will.   

niylah sees it, though.   octavia is beautiful to her.   she hopes someday she can make her feel that way, too —  that she can relax despite those sharp edges,  that she can still believe there’s a gentleness to her,  too.   niylah knows it still exists.  she’s not giving up on her.

she wants to reach for her.  she always wants to.  she waits to follow her lead.

she sighs,  nodding to show her appreciation when octavia allows her to help.  she moves closer,  gentle hands moving over the armor to take it apart,  slowly ridding octavia of it entirely piece by piece — it’s much simpler for niylah,  not clouded by the frustration octavia was.   she doesn’t answer her just yet,  only offering a small smile until she’s finished,  and octavia is free of the armor entirely.   

❝  no.  that is not what i was going to say,  ❞    she points out,  raising a brow as she looks over her.   of course,  octavia’s impulsive act of sparing niylah is always going to contribute to her desire to want to protect her.    she may always feel in debt to her, in some way.   but that’s not why she’s here,  now,  trying to help.   ❝  you are my friend,  ❞    she reminds her.  even with her armor gone,  niylah stays close now,  as if some kind of proof:  i am not afraid of you.  maybe that’s what octavia needs.   ❝  en ai hod yu in.  ❞   and i love you.   she says the words so simply,  because she doesn’t have to question that —  her only hesitance is that maybe octavia doesn’t want to hear it.  

her eyes narrow in on her after a moment,  and she sighs,  both of her hands moving to rest against octavia’s elbows.    ❝  you are trying to convince me that i am not safe by your side.  that is not something i wish to debate,  ❞  she insists,  because she’s already decided.   she is on borrowed time.  she always has been.  octavia gave her more — and niylah isn’t taking that for granted.  whatever happens to her now,  it’s not on octavia.

octavia resists the urge to reassure niylah when she sees what she guesses is niylah weighing the pros and cons of stepping toward her to help her with the armor. she can - does - imagine what she sees: a violent, volatile thing, a bomb waiting to explode.

she must be frightened of her, at least enough to keep her distance. octavia wants to reach toward her with a kind of gentleness she doesn't know she's capable of anymore and tell her she doesn't have to be afraid, but she isn't sure that is true.

if there was any gentleness or goodness left in octavia after pike killed lincoln, it surely must have perished in praimfaya like everything else. she thinks of the glowing butterflies that she and atom found in that meadow and imagines radiation eating them up from the inside out. she doesn't think she was ever that beautiful, but she does sometimes feel like that very same thing happened to her.

who can she blame for that? jaha, kane? the council and doctrine that made her grow up under the floor? her mother for giving birth to a child she had no business bringing into the world? lincoln, for being so completely, entirely good that he left her behind when she so desperately needed him? bellamy, for all those things she blamed him for that weren't his fault, and then everything else?

all octavia knows is that niylah should be very afraid of the person who did what she did to him in that cave, and she can't ask her not to be, no matter how desperate she is to crawl into her arms at night.

yet, as sure as she is all of that grief and rage and darkness still lives on inside her, she doesn't feel an ounce of fight left now. she sags in on herself in front of niylah, suddenly so exhausted it takes everything she has to remain upright. "that doesn't mean you won't wind up dead because of me." octavia is so afraid of that, yet she can't help but longing for her anyway. she nods at her offer to help, wiping her tears.

"why would you do that for me?" all her life, bellamy and aurora made sacrifices for her she didn't understand, didn't ask for, didn't want. "and don't say because i saved you." she did nothing to deserve them, and sometimes she begged them to stop, but they made them anyway. maybe wonkru is her turn to sacrifice; maybe she should be grateful to have the chance.

yet, octavia feels so very young, and as much as she'd like to have the strength of her mother or brother, it doesn't feel like she could possibly survive under the weight of what that sacrifice means. she feels so small, and it feels so heavy, and she doesn't think she wants this at all. niylah is here volunteering, and she can't imagine why.

[doomdays]

she hasn't wiped the blood from her forehead, hardly noticing the way her vision blurs, too laser-focused on finding her plane companion instead, someone she doesn't recall ever actually speaking to personally before today, but falling to their deaths together like that has changed her perspective. she doesn't remember how they got separated, but all that matters to her now is finding @hienous and making sure she's okay – and that means ignoring everyone in her cross path.

❝  i've been looking everywhere you. ❞  she grabs trini's arms, holding her like this is natural, like they know each other so much better than they do. she looks at her the same way, too, eyes searching trini's for some kind of reassurance that she's not just alive, but okay, too. ❝ are you hurt? ❞

[doomdays]

for most of her life,  she’s never really felt like she belonged anywhere,   her parents of warring clans and her own identity forced a secret from everyone.   even still, nobody knows the truth about niylah,   a secret she kept close to heart even after her parents were gone,   because she knows what it would mean for her if people knew.   or at least,  she did on the ground,   but under it?   we are wonkru.   

it’s more than just octavia sparing her life —  it’s this idea that they are one,   that an identity like niylah’s can exist in a place like this.   octavia gave her a home,  she gave her the chance to live,   she gave her a family again.   she may not ever be able to tell octavia what this really means to her,   how it goes far beyond just saving her life,   but what she can do is try to help her through it all.   

octavia has indra,  her advisor.   she has gaia and guards looking out for her.  but niylah can see how much pain she’s in,  how much she’s trying not to show —  and she knows she needs more than that.   she needs someone she can allow herself to break down in front of,  someone willing to hold her when it gets too dark down here,   someone who is by her side not just because she’s their commander now,   but because she loves her.

she watches as she tries to rid herself of the armor,  tempted to step forward,  help her with gentler hands,   but she knows better — octavia needs the space,  at least for now,  at least until niylah finds her cue that says come closer.   she frowns at the story,  heart forever aching for the girl before her,  remembering just how similar yet so different their lives have been — how they’ve both spent so much of their lives hiding.  and now they’re here, together,  and that’s something.   niylah understands the importance of her persona — she also understands the weight of it.

❝  i am not your shield,  ❞    she says,  because while she understands what she means,  it’s not how she sees it.   ❝  i stand next to you,  octavia.  ❞   meaning:  perhaps, they’re stronger together, supporting one another in the way they need.  octavia doesn’t need niylah’s protection because she’s braver than anyone niylah’s met.  what octavia needs is support that isn’t blind,  support that doesn’t feel like an obligation, something she needs to give her to survive.   niylah’s care for octavia is real, and she’s not walking away.   

octavia tells her to stay away,  and niylah steps closer,  taking a deep breath as she looks down to her armor.   ❝  can i help?  ❞    she asks,  nodding to the armor,   telling her more with the offer:   i’m not leaving you.   ❝  we live through this by giving ourselves grace.  you are who you have to be out there—-   ❞    she says,  turning towards the door,  then looking back to her.    ❝  and you are who you need to be for you in here,   with me,  ❞    she insists,  raising a brow as her eyes meet hers.   ❝  i cannot shield you from what’s expected of you out there.   but i can give you a place to let it all out.  it’s how you make it through this.  ❞

you don't have to pretend with me. / niylah @ octavia

octavia doesn't drop the act like a curtain after a performance; it slips through her hands like something precious made out of glass she'll cut her fingers on trying to clean up. it hits the floor fast and hard, with none of precision and effort she has to use every day to play the part of blodreina. a wet, strangled kind of laugh slips through her lips as niylah shuts the door behind her, standing between her and the people outside waiting for her command.

niylah talks about octavia saving her, but right now niylah feels like her protector. octavia is crumbling, and it would be so easy to fall to pieces now, curl into something small and let @doomdays wrap around her like bellamy used to on the ark when she was scared. god, she's pathetic. how is she supposed to lead anyone?

octavia's shaking fingers wrestle with the buckles securing the ridiculous armor to her shoulders, growing more and more frustrated as she slips closer and closer to breaking. "you know i.. i broke something on the ark, once. a glass or something. i was.. being stupid. and.. mom was so mad, because it was really loud, and we.. we weren't ever allowed to draw attention. so i tried to clean it up. but i was an idiot. i was so freaked out i just dove down and tried to pick up all the pieces, and i cut myself. and then my mom was really mad, because.. the blood. no one could see the blood..."

"damn it!" she lets her hands slap against her sides, forcing them away from the stupid buckles before she really does something stupid and starts trying to rip it off. "i'm still hiding. maybe it's in plain sight, but i'm still under the fucking floor hiding. and this time i'm using you as my shield. and it's not fair. it's fucked up. you deserve better than that. you..." her throat closes up. "i don't want you to get hurt." it's barely a whisper. she doesn't want niylah to get hurt. like illian. like lincoln. like anyone who fucking dares get close to her. "you should go. i'm.. i'm really glad you're here." her voice breaks here. she angrily wipes at her tears with practically as much force as she'd used with the buckles. "and you should stay the fuck away from me, cause it's gonna get worse before it gets better."

[doomdays]

@surviveds 💬 "here’s the thing about violence. sometimes it is very much the answer."

it's times like this that the guilt starts to feel like it's suffocating her, when she's forced to remember that the connections she's formed with these people in order to achieve her mission are still very real, despite them not really knowing her at all.

sometimes she wishes she could drop it entirely, choose to stay with her newfound family at campus colony and become this version of herself  —  just huck, felix's best friend, hope's role model. not a soldier, not a pawn in the CRM's game, but someone people can count on. someone jay can count on.

but then her mother's voice rings in her head: everything you do has to be for the greater good. and that means these friendships she's made, this family she's formed, it doesn't matter. none of this can be about her. it's all about hope— and hope. 

❝  learned that a long time ago. ❞ sometimes, it's easier when she can be honest, even if she can't tell the full truth.  it's not lost on her that jay, felix, the kids — at some point, she's going to have to figure out a way to leave them behind, and she knows what the answer is. she's just not sure she's willing to go there. she has before, she will again— but they don't deserve this. it's thoughts like this that remind huck there's a reason she was sent away.

she takes a deep breath, turning her head up to jay, shrugging her shoulders as her boot kicks at the rocks under her feet. ❝  don't have to tell me that, but the rest of 'em? ❞ she asks, raising a brow and nodding towards the others. ❝  hard seein' 'em all out here... they think they know what they're up against, but so far? they haven't seen it. they got no idea. ❞ there's a light warning in her voice, a hint to them that maybe they should turn around.

❝  felix, too. ❞ her jaw clenches, because there's that guilt again, instilling doubt about someone she very much knows can handle himself. felix is stronger than anyone's ever given him credit for, especially himself. maybe she's not entirely wrong, though. he doesn't know what it's really like out here, and he doesn't know the way his family's about to chance once huck's mission's complete. ❝  he's good. so are you. you gon' be ready if we gotta defend ourselves out here? not talkin' about the empties, ❞ she points out, giving him a knowing look.

[doomdays]

@lingeringscars 💬 "you just seem so unapologetically you. like, in every way. where does that come from?"

she wonders what harper's learned about the ground, about the way people viewed people like emori, beyond anything emori's been willing to mention. harper's one of the first people she ever felt comfortable enough with just being around with no need to hide, one of the first people who saw her for her rather than just what the rest of the world decided she was. a stain.

emori's never known family until here.

❝  i never felt like i had a choice. ❞ but that's not entirely true, because she knows what everyone wanted her to believe: that she was an abomination, something that shouldn't exist, something that didn't belong. barely treated as a person. but she hid her arm to protect herself, not because she believed it was wrong. harper's never made her feel that way, she's the only one who's ever grabbed her hand to comfort her like that.

she offers a small smile, hoping harper understands the weight of it. ❝  i couldn't choose the way i was born, but i got to choose who i became. ❞ no parents, no clan, no one trying to make those decisions for her. it was the absence of all of it. ❝  if i'm being honest, i've never been more proud of the person i could be than when i got here, ❞ she admits, because learning to survive the way she did was something to be proud of, knowing how many others like her couldn't do it as successfully, but here, she's chosen to be more, because she finally got the chance, and she's not bashful of that pride. no matter how much john may think she should be.

❝  why are you asking me? you're pretty good at it, too, ❞ she points out, only knowing vaguely of what her final days on the ground were like, how she was ready to go but chose to live anyway. ❝  were you always that way? ❞

[doomdays]

@lingeringscars 💬 "it's okay to fall apart a little."

if she lets herself fall apart, she'll only be proving to her mother what she's been trying to avoid for years now: that she's still just a kid, one who can't handle everything she put on her in the first place. some part of her knows that's not true, but it doesn't stop her from doing everything she can to keep her head high anyway, terrified of actually letting herself fall apart, especially in a place like this.

❝  yeah... ❞ she mutters in a way that makes it clear she doesn't believe his words nor her agreement, like it's never been an option for her. it's never felt like one. not when her parents disappeared—  there, but not actually, not present. not for julie, not for ethan, not for each other. the responsibility has always been on her, never allowing herself to grieve because she had to take care of ethan. she had to take care of her mom and dad, too. she's never known how to prioritize herself— at least until she got here, when she found herself desperate for some kind of control, some agency, especially in a place that seemed determined to break inevitably break them anyway.

❝  you know people say that here, but then... ❞ she trails off, shaking her head. people who let themselves fall apart don't seem to last long. then again, bottling it up probably isn't helping any of them, either, she knows. ❝  i have to keep myself together. that's the way it's always been. my brother's just a kid. ❞ and so is she, but she won't think of it that way. ❝  someone has to make sure he can handle all of this. and i just don't trust my parents to do it. you've seen it. they've already fallen apart. ❞

[doomdays]

a multi-muse.

[doomdays]

she can’t help herself from smiling as he not only gives into her teasing,  but makes it clear how much worse he’d actually been.   she’s regretful now as she looks back on all the times she’d tried to shut it all down,  because it was never about felix’s relationship,   just her own insecurities.   she sees it clearly now though,   how good for felix will has been,   how good for will felix has been too,  how good they are together.   

❝  see?  i was ready to start tallying, ❞   she jokes,  feeling silly for it now,   how jealous she’d been of how much attention felix gave will,   how it always felt like she was losing something,  even though she wasn’t.   felix had boyfriends before him,  but maybe some part of hope always knew that this was real,   and it could so easily take him away from her and the rest of their family someday.   that’s what she feared most — losing felix to another family,  felix deciding he no longer needed this one.   now,  will’s part of this family,  and she understands he was never actually trying to take felix away from her and her sister.   she was just a kid,  afraid of losing more.    ❝  you still do it, you know.   like,  did you not just wake up next to him an hour ago?  ❞   she points out dryly,  rolling her eyes.   ❝  guess the obsession doesn’t end when you get married,  huh?  ❞    she teases,  shrugging her shoulders innocently.   

she wouldn’t really understand,  because unlike her siblings,  she’s never fallen in love.  she’s never been in a relationship at all.   she’s comfortable with that,  she thinks.   felix and iris seem good at that — loving someone,  being with someone,  and hope’s afraid she’d never really know what she was doing herself,  or even what she really wanted.  she doesn’t ever let herself dwell on it.

her head falls back in feigned annoyance as he starts off with the ‘when i was your age—‘   sounding like their farther,  amusing her enough to give herself away with a small grin.   it’s also not lost on her that felix never really divulges much about his life from that time,  when he was her age,  before them,   so she’s ready to listen.   ❝  i thought teenagers in your day liked staying up late and sleeping in,  ❞    she inquires,  thinking about how she lived in campus colony—  mostly going off of what she thought the world before was like.   she takes a chance,  asking him another question,  wondering how much he’s willing to talk about.   ❝  where’d you watch it from?  ❞    

she shoots a look back at him at the question,  eyes widening.   she wants to make fun of him for the way she phrases it,  but she can’t ignore the excitement she feels at the idea of a routine between the two of them,  of knowing that felix wants the time with her.  there’s that feeling of a little kid again.   ❝  so,  what you’re saying is—   i’m really good company and you’re desperate for more time with me?  ❞    she taunts with a playful grin,   as if that’s not exactly what she’s thinking about him.    but her nose scrunches and she thinks about it seriously now,  nodding her head once.   ❝  doesn’t sound like a terrible idea.  ❞   which is about as enthusiastic as she will allow herself to be.

he shakes off the his sister's ribbing with little more than a roll of the eyes, shoulders lifting as if to say, that's just how it is. once upon a time, felix swore to himself that he'd never again hide who he is - nor who he loves. and loving will has been second nature since knowing him; asserting that to the world has been equally as easy. he's not ashamed, and he feels immeasurable pride at what they have - it's a love he's hoped for his sisters to experience, if that's what they want. (he tries not to think of iris, and how briefly she held it - the mental flash of percy's body coming unbidden, and felix has to keep himself from shuddering.) and he's always wanted them to love will, too; for will to be the same force of good for the rest of his family that he's been for him. hope's antagonism of him had cut deeply, more than felix had ever allowed her to see, but now, it's difficult not to show just how grateful he is that she's accepted him; the softer edges of her teasing hasn't gone unnoticed. felix's cheeks redden slightly, his right forefinger drifting towards his left hand to rub along the tattooed band, and felix briefly thinks of the matching one that will sports - which had also been a source of amusement for hope, as felix expected it would.

"it was definitely more than ten," felix agrees, with a wistful sigh. his hands fall apart as another memory surfaces: a walk he'd taken in another life, huck at his side, her tone bursting with the same mirth as hope's, wrought from the same subject. it makes his breath catch and his jaw clenches tightly, the pressure from his teeth grinding filling his ears, and it takes felix a long breath to release, a twin ache beginning in his chest, like the birth of a bruise.

he looks up at the sky, the faint stars, that bright, burning morning rising, a reminder of how far they are from that day. he inhales the smell of new york countryside, crisper than the air of home, and it calms him; he's grateful to notice from the corner of his eye hope studying the sky, too, and he finds himself wishing he'd originally planned to take her with him - and then he wonders how difficult it'd be to convince her to make this a regular thing.

"when i was your age, i used to love getting up before the sun and watching it come up." felix has never discussed his past with her before, but it comes naturally to him now, allowing this small glimpse into his teenage years. it's a part of his life from that time that felix remembers fondly: setting his alarm, then creeping out of his window, then settling onto his car's hood and watching the sky.

it invokes the same feeling in his chest now, along with a sense of disbelief that this is the same sky, the same sun, so many years and miles later. it takes felix too long to flit his gaze from it to hope, but when he does, he's smiling, soft laughter shaking loose from his chest. "i did think about it," he admits. "i need the reminder myself, sometimes. it's not always easy to, but..." he pauses; swallows; then looks back to the sky, as if it'll make the question seem more nonchalant (and easier for hope to accept). "maybe once a week, you and me come out for a walk, or something? see what we can see. 'appreciate the beauty of the world'," he mimics with a scrunch of his nose. "or... every other week. don't wanna cut into your research time too much."

[doomdays]

@lingeringscars 💬 "just because it ended doesn’t mean it wasn’t real."

she knows it was real, it had to be, because she is who she is now because of it. she's alive because of it. she has the chance to be everything she wants to be, everything she never knew she had the chance to be because of it, which is why it hurts so much more knowing it's him who's trying to hold her back from it all. john used to make her feel whole, like she could live for something more than just herself, like she had a reason to keep fighting just beyond survival. she still feels that way, because of the family she's found on this ring, but it feels like it all came at the cost of what she had with him, and she resents him for it, even more knowing that he's still the one she wishes she could share her new victories with —  big and small —  it just seems like he may resent her for them, too.

❝  i wish i could forget it. ❞ that's a lie. harper probably knows her well enough by now to know it's a lie, too. she doesn't want to forget what it's like to be loved that way, but with every passing day, with the growing silence and petty remarks shared between them, it feels like all the good is souring. that makes it worse.

before she can open her mouth to say more, monty appears, immediately stopping in his tracks when he can see, what emori assumes, harper preventing emori from a break down. emori offers an almost shy smile, one that invites him to interrupt if he must, but he gives them a small, apologetic nod, and then harper an appreciative grin, before he turns to walk out.

it's sweet. it's not john. john is all i'd kill anyone who looked at you the wrong way but i'd be the first to put you down once you show me who you want to be. she takes a deep breath, the thought prompting her to ask harper a question she'd always wondered but never dared to ask, afraid of what it would make her think about herself.

❝  how do you two do it? stuck up here for so long... you haven't learned to hate each other, ❞ she notes, raising a brow as she looks back to her.

[doomdays]

finally finished reading the first c/lown in a cornfield book and i just need to save these quotes in his tag