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#you can tell I went ham on the pastel brush
beerecordings · 5 years
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Um, if that was a prompt for us to send things in, "Go on. Try to run." with whoever you choose?
okay..... i’m real proud of this one... thanks for the prompt, sid :) can you feel the American patriotism????? (because our nature scenes are the only thing we have going for us anymore???) anyway someone take a road trip with me
also sorry again i can’t get the read-more to work.... I know this post is long af. please tag it “long post” if you reblog, ty ty
Edit: not tumblr fucked up the spaces too, so there’s these *** instead of spaces. i am confusion.
tws for vomit mention, blood, implied character death, and car crash
                                                          ***
He moves through the shadows of the mountains at his brother's side, curled up against the window of the shitty 2002 Dodge Neon they stole from a rancher's backyard at three in the morning, trying not to nightmare.
He dozes instead of sleeping, suspended in awakeness by the rapid thud-thud-thud of the vibrating window against his skull.
“Turn the radio on?” he asks drowsily, readjusting and putting his jacket against his head.
JJ pushes the power button on the radio and flicks through the channels, bypassing Mexican music complete with a joyful grito, hypermasculine country trash, the top 40s station, and an orchestral piece featuring an celloist going absolutely ham on Shostakovich's Symphony Number One before landing on a talk show about the declining white rhino population in Southern Africa.
Not what Chase would have picked, but he'll forgive his little brother's eccentrism for the relief of a voice to listen to.
“Two female Northern white rhinos live at the Pejeta Conservatory in Kenya, and today, they and the rest of the world are grieving a terrible loss – the death of the last male Northern white rhino, Sudan, who passed away last Monday at the ripe old age of forty-five.”
“That's sad,” Chase mumbles, rubbing his face. Fuck, he's hungry. Maybe he'll wake up after all. Sitting up in his chair, he heaves out a deep sigh and glances over at JJ, who doesn't even bother to nod, his exhausted eyes fixed on the road.
“You should let me drive next.”
Jameson shakes his head, shifting uncomfortably. His fingers are gripped very tight on the steering wheel.
“The loss of the Northern white rhino species has been sudden and devastating. In 2015, five rhinos lived in captivity, and there were hopes of babies being born to help save the species. But now, only two of the rhinos remain, and it seems their death warrant has been signed by the loss of Sudan.”
Chase glances out the window, where proud tall trees rise towards a fervently blue sky, heavy with spring greenery. Their car curves down a winding road through a rocky mountainside, spitting gravel off the side of the cliff as they speed along towards their destination.
What destination? Chase wonders, watching the light of the sun play along the surface of a quiet blue lake miles below them. Where can we go that he will not find us?
“Hey, any beef jerky left?”
Jamie shakes his head again, glancing over at his brother. A flicker of his old warmth wakes up in his eyes as he meets Chase's gaze, his twin in tiredness.
He takes his hands off the wheel long enough to sign, “Stop soon.”
“Okay.”
Chase reaches into the back and grabs Jackie's blood-stained backpack off the floor, taking out his journal one more time. He doesn't expect to find anything that will help them anymore.
He just misses his brother's handwriting.
“I think I'm getting paranoid,” reads the soft, scrawling script their brother left behind. “I can tell that he's coming. I can always tell. The glitches, Jack's condition. Sometimes I think Marvin can sense it too, because I hear him awake late at night, coughing on too much magic, full up on restless energy. I know I'm being overbearing, telling them all to stay close, trying to stop Schneep from going to work. I can't get him to stay home. I'm just scared Anti will take him away first. He works regular hours now and it's not safe. Anti could find him. Anti could find Jack. I don't want to be an ass. I just want to keep them safe.”
Chase swallows back tears – he's getting used to that burn at the back of his throat – and flips dully through the rest of the journal. Here are Jackie's notes on Anti's powers, signs of his oncoming appearances, what he's done in videos, what he seems to want. None of it was enough to save them.
If only he had been a little more overbearing.
“There used to be many Northern white rhinos, living happily throughout Northern Africa in large numbers. But the reason for their decline, and now, near extinction, is all too clear – poaching has led these innocent creatures to their end. Even now, the two remaining Northern white rhinos must be protected around the clock, wary of hunters at all time.”
“Can we listen to something else?” asks Chase.
“Today, we grieve the loss of this magnificent species, once a proud and numerous symbol of their homeland. With only two remaining, how can they expect to survive?”
JJ turns the radio off.
                                                              ***
Chase peers up at the dawn sky from beneath the windshield, his eyes flickering between the dead highway before them and the breathing morning stars above him, glittering in the faraway satin of a bright pink sunrise.
“Some parts of America are really so pretty,” he says, wistful. Brown and black horses move past their car, watching from the hills and nudging their colts around with their noses. “I wish we were just on a roadtrip instead of on the run, you know? We could go somewhere nice. Camp out or something. No, never mind. Camping sounds miserable. We'll get a hotel and wander all the cities we like. Schneep always talked about traveling.”
He takes a sip from the caffeinated gas station soda in the cup holder beside him and then glances over to grin sadly at his brother, but JJ isn't looking. He sits with his head in his hand, frowning out the window, pale in the wan yellow light of the morning.
“Hey, you okay?”
No answer, but it's hard to have a conversation when Chase is supposed to be watching the road. And Jamie hasn't talked much lately anyway. Hardly at all, really. He just clings to Chase's side and glares at passersby in silence, his hand shoved into his pocket at all times. Chase is pretty sure he's always holding a knife these days. He never looks happy. He never looks safe.
Fuck, he'd just about kill to see him smile again.
Chase takes a deep breath and swallows down a burning at the back of his throat, reaching out to rub the back of JJ's neck roughly.
“Look, bud,” he sighs. “I know how hard you're trying to protect me, but I wish you'd look after yourself a little better. It's just you and me now, you know? And that – that isn't easy, but if we're going to survive... we both need to survive, right, man?”
JJ doesn't turn to him. The sunrise makes him pastel in blue and pink.
“I love you,” Chase adds. “I'm really glad you're here, J. What would I do without you, huh?”
He smiles and gives his brother another affectionate clap on the shoulder, adding a playful tug on his ear, trying to get him to look at him.
And Jameson turns and he is weeping.
“You'd be much better off without me,” he signs, and then he breaks down completely, slumped against the dashboard with gasping sobs trembling their way out of his mouth.
“Fuck,” Chase can't help but spit out, reaching out to leave a hand on his brother's back as he slams the brakes hard and drags their exhausted little car onto a quiet gravel shoulder, where only fence posts and sparsely forested grasslands stare back at them.
Chase unbuckles and gets out of the car, moving to Jameson's side and pulling open the door. After that, all he knows to do is reach out, gentle, and grab JJ's hand, ferocious.
He hasn't seen Jameson cry in weeks. He has been steel and defense, gritted teeth and deadened eyes, since what happened.
“Tell me what's going on,” he says.
“What's going on?” JJ demands, yanking his hand away. A magpie calls a reprimand to the trees, her black head shining with the golden light of the oncoming day. “Let's stop pretending there's any relief to be found in this, Chase. In escaping. In running. In fucking off to another country and wearing baseball caps low over our eyes and pretending the internet doesn't exist. In driving all day and all night, in grieving from the front seat of a stolen car, in never seeing home again.”
“Fine,” snaps Chase, gripping his hand and leaning closer. “Fine, there's nothing good about this. Does that make you feel better? There's nothing good about this situation.
Except you.”
Jameson stills, sniffling sadly and wiping harsh at the salt on his cheeks.
“You're all I got left, man,” Chase murmurs, putting his other hand on his shoulder. “You're everything. And I'm tired of seeing you so... quiet. Listen, I'm in grief too. You've heard me crying often enough to know. But if we're going to survive, we have to survive together. I need you healthy. Or as healthy as you can be. Capeesh?”
JJ looks up, his mouth trembling, and gives Chase the smallest nod.
“Tell me what's wrong.”
Jameson is pale and exhausted, thin with bad eating and long nights of running, hollowed and hopeless and lovely, lovely as he has ever been, a blue-eyed boy with a softness in his face and power in the lines of his hands. Chase brushes a curl of hair from his brother's eyes, his fingers drifting over the curves of his face.
“It's my fault,” says JJ.
“Oh, buddy – ”
“No, it is, I mean it, it's all my – it's all my fault.”
“Don't say that, Jays. It's not true.”
“I was supposed to be watching Schneep.”
“You did everything you could.”
“Jackie and Marvin went to protect Jack, and I was supposed to watch Schneep, I was supposed to save Schneep, I was supposed to – ”
JJ collapses onto Chase's shoulder, weeping so hard he can barely breathe. All Chase can do is hold him, hold him close and cry out, “You did everything you could. You did everything you could. It's not your fault you were the last line of defense.”
And this is the truth, but it makes nothing better.
Jameson Jackson did his best. Fought his best. Loved his hardest.
It was only enough to save one.
And he's afraid – afraid to the core of his being, afraid down to his trembling heart – that, soon enough, it will no longer be enough to save Chase either.
“I love you,” says Chase. “And you and I? We're going to find some happiness again, someday, okay? Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday. You deserve that much.”
Jameson stares back at him, reaching out to clutch his hands. Slowly, wearily, he lets his watching eyes slip shut, and rests his head on Chase's shoulder.
They sit by the side of the road for a long time. The cicadas are singing in the trees.
                                                             ***
The stars watch over them.
Or maybe they're just watching.
Chase can never tell anymore. Everything feels like a threat these days.
"On the road again," he hums, bouncing his leg and trying to entertain himself by tapping his fingers against his knee. "Oh, I can't wait to get on the road again!"
He pauses, glancing over at JJ.
"That's not true," he admits, and Jameson looks back at him warmly, giving his fine blue eyes a quick roll made visible by the ugly yellow overhead light they flickered on for comfort in the dark.
There's no one else out here. They take back roads when they can.
"What state are we in?"
Jameson frowns, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel thoughtfully before offering Chase a guilty look of surrender.
"You don't know?"
"Maybe P-E-N - "
"Penis, my favorite state, perfect."
Chase gets a punch in the arm for that one. Worth it.
There's a little more fire in JJ tonight, he thinks. He hopes. Maybe it's because they spent more than they should have on dinner to get little ice cream cones for dessert, or maybe there's just been enough time passed that Jameson's paranoia is settling down, but one way or another, he's hoping to see some joy on his face soon. If he keeps cracking enough dumbass jokes, he can get him to smile, can't he? Surely there's some happiness coming their way at some point, considering that the universe has been well and truly fucking them over for the past four weeks. Surely.
Chase glances around for wood to knock on, but he can't reach the trunks of the heavy forest zipping along past their window. The headlights illuminate a warning sign on the side of the road before them, neon yellow with the black form of a deer printed on its surface, and Chase jerks back as he accidentally meets the gaze of the enormous grey owl sitting atop it.
"These woods are creepy," he complains.
"Sleep," suggests JJ authoritatively, pushing Chase's shoulder.
"Hey, you sleep," Chase grumbles back, pushing his shoulder back. "Maybe we could - oh, shit! Is that a CD case?"
His enthusiasm makes Jamie flinch, but a second later he is watching with interest as his brother rifles hurriedly through the pages of the CD holder, laughing louder with each disc he lays eyes on.
"Al Green - Frank Sinatra - holy shit, both discs for the Order of the Phoenix audiobook. You want to listen to some fucking Harry Potter?"
"No."
"Aw, come on."
"Those were Marvin's favorites!"
There's a pause. Chase stares over at his brother. Jameson stares over at the road, pale with distress.
"Yeah," says Chase eventually. "He was a real nerd for this shit."
He gets punched in the shoulder again, but Jameson's eyes are affectionate. Chase grins and adjusts in his seat, crossing his legs in front of him.
"You remember that time he set the kitchen on fire?" he asks.
Jameson blinks, his mouth twitching. "Which time?"
"Ha ha! The time I was cooking a whole goddamn turkey in the oven and he sent everything up in smoke? Schneep stepped into the house, took one look at all of us screaming and trying to put the fire out, and walked right back out."
Jameson snorts, loosening his grip on the steering wheel. Yeah, he remembers. He remembers laughing.
"But that was also the day Jackie came home so badly hurt," Jameson reminds, drawing his hands away from the wheel just for a second.
"Yeah, well, that one was his fault. He never could resist a fight with a guy twice his size. I don't know if you ever heard this - it was before you were created - but he once got his skull busted open by some asshole with a whole mob of lackeys, woke up in the hospital after four days of being comatose, and went out that same time to get his revenge."
"He did not!"
"Oh, he so did. I think that was the only time Schneep ever followed through on his threat to lock him in his room."
Jameson's mouth twitches. He glances over at Chase with an eyebrow raised and then looks back to the road, sighing a content sigh.
Warmth blooms in Chase's chest like the sunflowers along the side of the road. Then the silence drags on for too long and he decides to take drastic action.
"I'm putting one of these CDs in."
"Don't put one of those CDs in!"
"I'm doing it, you can't stop me, I'm - " Chase yanks Sinatra's top hits out of its case and moves for the CD player. Jameson intercepts, shoving his hand out of the way.
"Those all look terrible! I don't want to listen to any of that!"
"Sinatra!" cries Chase, laughing almost too hard to fight back.
"No!"
"Yes!" With a final, determined gesture, Chase slams the CD into the player and turns the volume up.
Jameson shakes his head at him with faux irritation, his eyes shining warm in the ugly light of the car.
"Some day," sings Sinatra, low and wavering, and Chase lets out a whoop of delight. "When I'm awfully low... when the world is cold... I will feel a glow... "
"Just thinking of you!" Chase sings along at the top of his lungs. Jameson shakes his head, trying not to smile, the corners of his mouth edging upwards. "And the way you look tonight!"
"You're so cheesy," says JJ, glancing to the side as a deer leaps through the trees, startled by the headlights. "Such a dork."
"Hey, you're the dork, dapper man."
"Yes, you're lovely!" cries Sinatra, with passion. "With your smile so warm and your cheeks so soft! There is nothing for me but to love you."
"And the way you look tonight!" Chase finishes, breaking down into giggles.
It's one am in Eastern time and this abandoned back road is taking them towards whatever state it feels like. They're in the middle of nowhere, hiding but together, tired but alive.
That's all that matters.
A smile spreads like a sunrise across Jameson's mouth. Chase hollers his delight, only making Jameson laugh harder, leaving them both shaking in their seats, overwhelmed and full of warmth, loving and united, brothers and- there is a man in the middle of the road -
"Jameson!" screams Chase, and his little brother's hands grab the steering wheel and pull -
                                                             ***
“Fuck,” whispers Chase, awakening.
Copper-taste sits in his mouth like poison and he coughs, pain racing through his chest and blood dripping down his lip. Confused, he lets out a soft whimper and tries to sit up, but his seatbelt, crushed tight against his chest, does not allow it.
He's grateful for it, too. Without it, he'd be dead for sure.
There is an arm in front of him too.
His little brother's arm, shattered.
“Jameson,” calls Chase, blinking warm blood from his eyes, trying to see in the darkness.
Jamie is a black silhouette beside him, unmoving.
“Jameson!” he cries again, struggling to breathe.
This can't be happening. They can't have survived this much only for a freak accident to take his last brother from him. Please, God, this can't be happening.
He unclips his seatbelt and shifts in his seat, crumpling against the dashboard and splitting blood onto its grey plastic surface. Through the shadows, he makes out the figure of the ancient tree currenly mashing faces with their stolen car.
They swerved off the road, into the forest. They are miles from civilization. They have no phones. Phones are unsafe. Anti, after all, utilizes internet signals and electricity the same way cowboys utilized horses.
Chase reaches out to touch Jameson's shoulder. Fumbling beside the steering wheel, his fingers find the light switch, yanking it up, and, to his enormous relief, one of the headlights resumes its duties, illuminating the creaking forest all around them. Something scurries away through the bushes.
Jameson is slicked in blood. He rests against the red glass-stained window of the driver's seat, as still and as white as the bones of a deer.
No, this wasn't an accident.
This was someone's fault.
“Hey, asshole,” howls Chase, tumbling out of the side of the car. His fingers dig into earth and twig and worm in the damp floor of the forest. “You've hurt my little brother! Come down here and help us! Why the fuck were you standing in the middle of the road?”
He remembers vaguely the dark shadow of the man, a cold form dressed all in black, with a hood drawn over its head, but he cannot see it now, cannot even make his eyes focus on the road.
“With each word, your tenderness grows...”
Chase startles, staring back at the car. He realizes, at the intersection of confusion and abject terror, that the CD player has just turned itself back on again.
He is a stiffened stag on the side of the road, unable to move, unable to breathe.
“Jameson,” he whispers, and turns away from the figure on the road. He takes it all back. He does not want the man to come down here. He does not want his help.
He crawls to Jameson's side, vomiting blood and his last meal as he drags himself towards his little brother and staggers to his feet, grabbing at the seatbelt that holds him in place.
“Tearing my fear apart,” sings Sinatra, growing louder. “And that laugh wrinkles your foolish heart... Lovely, never ever change...”
And then Chase sees the black-hooded figure of the man, standing close, beside the tree that connected with their car. His jeans are ripped and there, on his breast, a mockery – the letters “PMA” scrawled out in angular font.
“Jameson,” begs Chase, yanking desperately at the seatbelt, unable to get it loose. He scrambles to find a pulse in his neck instead, but his shaking fingers give him no hopeful reply.
“Keep that breathless charm! Won't you please arrange it?”
The CD display glitches.
Chase screams aloud, biting at the seatbelt, choking on the outcry of his broken ribs, hunted down at last, found at last, discovered and destroyed, alone. Finally, he manages to yank loose the seatbelt, but it means nothing. Reaching out to drag him away, he sees that Jameson's legs are crushed by the indent in the car, trapping him better than if he were chained.
Whimpering and gripping at his hair, Chase falls back. Anti is closer now, close enough to touch him, standing still by the engine of the car. His blue and brown eyes are like those of a cat's in the darkness, and Jameson is the rabbit he has caught.
And Chase understands that he cannot save his little brother.
But he could save himself.
“Go on, Chase Brody,” whispers Anti. “Try to run.”
His voice does not glitch. His body does not spasm. This is his victory, and in it not a single flaw is visible or spoken aloud. He has the perfect corpse to contain him.
“Please,” whispers Chase, touching Jameson's hand. “Please.”
“Don't beg after you've put up a fight for the first time in your life,” purrs Anti. His brown eye brightens slowly to green, glowing through the darkness. His hands are stuffed in Jack's hoodie pockets. “The two of you actually managed to evade me for quite some time. Don't you want to get away, Chase?”
He intones the name with a deep sarcasm, grinning around the ironic sound of it.
“I'll even let you run,” he promises. “I've started to enjoy this most dangerous game, hunting the two of you down across the country. You even slipped my vision once or twice. If you run now, I'll give you a two-day headstart, how does that sound? You might even be able to escape me.”
Chase's ribs are broken, but with adrenaline coursing through him, he thinks he could run, or at least stagger back to the highway and wait for help to come. He's got two hundred and forty dollars worth of cash shoved into his pockets, enough to keep him eating for a few days. He could hot wire another car. Escape the hospital before they could bill him. He could live.
“No. No. Not without him.”
Lost and desperate, terrified and resigned, he gives up the idea of escape and does the only thing he can think of – he crawls into the seat beside Jameson, wraps his body around him, and tries to protect his body from Anti.
Jameson is motionless beneath his hands. His face is split into sections of blood and protruding bone. Chase looks down at him and begins to howl, despair exploding through the cheap dam of optimism that has kept him alive for the past four months. Jameson only bleeds in reply.
“If you're going to kill us,” whispers Chase. “Then kill us.”
The stars are watching. Deer creep through the trees, wary and glorious, their eyes shining in the dying glow of the headlight. Here under the trees of the forest, Chase has found his ending.
He's ready to see his brothers. Ready to see Jameson happy and the others unharmed.
He closes his eyes and pictures their smiles, warmer than sunlight, lovely and golden, filling the land of salvation like milk and honey.
They are beautiful and wonderful and joyous, and he sees them now before him.
“Cause I love you!” sings Sinatra, and Anti strides forward, pulling the hood back from Jack's face. “Just the way you look tonight.”
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kazhewbrekker · 5 years
Text
vilify me - chapter 1
Vilify Me
Shatter Me AU where Ella and Emmaline were raised as children of the Supreme Commander of Oceania, and everything that happened after.
Fandom: Shatter Me Series - Tahereh Mafi
Relationships: Juliette Ferrars/Aaron Warner
Additional Tags: Ella Sommers!AU, Implied Torture, Child Abuse, basically ella and emmaline were raised by their biological parents,Childhood Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Restore Me spoilers, Defy Me spoilers, i might add more tags later
( AO3 Link) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4)
vilify v.
1. to lower in estimation or importance
All the children of the Supremes spent time away from home, visiting each other on the regular, it was a much needed break for their parents and good for networking. And when you were young and sick of being treated like test monkeys, a little bit of freedom never hurt.
Emmaline was one of the older kids, alongside Haider and Warner. So she grew out of the visiting trips earlier then I did. Instead she became obsessed with getting ahead and learning everything she could about everything. She didn’t have time for her little sister or taking a small flight to another continent every weekend. I understood, maybe not then, but eventually.
Sometimes I still think about how different she would have been had she opened up more, if not to me then to the rest of us. But I suppose we really were outliers, when it all came down to it. Emmaline was untouchable, in a metaphorical way, she was not only going to inherit our mother’s title as Supreme Commander of Oceania, but she was also the strongest Unnatural on the planet. The scientists always got it wrong, they downplayed her power so frequently in order to raise mine up, but I wasn’t as strong as her. It seemed like I was the only one who realized that.
I didn’t want to see what would happen if someone stood against Emmaline. Not even me.
The warmth of morning became overbearing the later after dawn I waited to get up. My conditioned body still continued to rouse me at five o’clock sharp, before even the sun had decided to get up. But I was on vacation, or the closest thing to vacation I could get, so there was no way I was going to leave this bed until at the very least eight in the morning.
“Ella, love.”
His voice was quiet, so quiet I could have ignored it, but he placed a hand on my shoulder to shake me awake. His palm was frigid. I jumped a foot into the air and rolled across the bed, hugging the sheets to my chest.
Aaron Warner stood before me on the other side of the bed wearing his usual ensemble of immaculate clothing. His surprise at my reaction quickly turned to amusement, he looked as if it physically pained him to restrain his laughter at my antics. I gave him a sidelong glare before laying myself down once again, but on his pillow.
“Are you going to get up before noon?”
“Excuse you,” I said. “Some people like to sleep in.”
I listened intently as he moved around the room. The fabric under my chin was cold and smelled faintly of soap and little much else. He probably hadn’t slept for very long at all, and I could vaguely remembered he’d come to bed late too.
“Did you even go to sleep last night?” I turned my head up, but found he wasn’t where he’d been before. I sat up on the bed and found him bringing in a tray covered in metal containers that I knew to be military issued meals. “Breakfast in bed? Don’t spoil me or I’ll never leave.”
Warner place the tray on my lap, the quirk to his lip hadn’t disappeared just yet. I hesitantly opened the first dish to find fruits chopped into squares, the others had what looked to be eggs and ham and some kind of baked bread. I picked up the cup of coffee placed off to the side and held it up to my lips, watching Warner as he watched me from his seat on the edge of the bed.
He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck, “I will admit I didn’t sleep as long as I could have, but I am still expected to work while you’re here.”
“Responsibilities, I’m familiar.”
“Yes, precisely,” Warner laughed. “As for breakfast; no crumbs in my bed.”
He watched and waited as I partook in the food laid before me. I wasn’t a huge fan of eating, food equaled energy and energy gave me the ability to use my body properly and that was all there was to it. Maybe that was something the Reestablishment had trained into us, to only see things in terms of power. If you didn’t get a benefit from something then it had no use, and therefore it could be thrown away as simple as that. Food, people, it was all the same in the Reestablishment’s eyes.
“What’s the agenda for today?” I asked between mouthfuls of bread.
“I have another meeting in an hour, and I have to visit the compounds around 1400 hours.” He eyed the bread with disdain, “The in between time I am all yours.”
“How generous.”
“Do you plan to be sarcastic for the rest of the morning?”
I sigh reproachfully. In truth I wasn’t surprised in the slightest that he was busy. Warner’s father like to pile up work in Sector 45 more than any of the others, just to get a rise out of his son, and especially when he knew I was visiting. I could beat the old man black and blue for just that alone.
I wasn’t surprised, but I was disappointed. There honestly wasn’t much to do on base without Warner around. I did come to North America purely to see him, more often than not.
I could easily do my own work from the comfort of my own home.
“Are you alright?” He said, with a hint of worry, “What’s wrong, love?”
“Nothing,”
He raised an eyebrow.
“The only reason I don’t want to tell you is because it’s obsolete. You’ll feel guilty and that will make me feel even worse.” I said, “I miss you and I want to spend as much time with you as I can. But I hardly know what to do with myself here when you’re gone.”
Warner winced, confirmed my fear that he’d take the burden of my discomfort onto himself. “You could join me during work―?”
“And distract you the entire time.”
“There isn’t an easy solution.”
I picked the tray up out of my lap and wiggle my legs out of the blanket. The carpet was cool under my bare feet as I walked over to the table and set the empty tray atop it. It’s only when I’d crossed halfway over the room that I realized how chilly it was in this room without trousers. I pulled on the bottom threads of my shirt as I headed back to the bed, Warner’s eyes never left me as he sat quietly, waiting. And I only had to meet his gaze once before he was fixating on the far wall.
Ever in full control of temptation.
“I know there isn’t, that’s precisely why I didn’t want to mention it.” I stood in front of him so our knees touched, his expensive black polyester against my skin. “Beside, I come here to escape from all the military talk, your board meetings would give me hives.”
He laughs, but it’s restrained. His hands hesitantly test the waters and reach out to me. Which I oblige by lacing our fingers together and sitting myself on his lap with my legs pinned on either side of him. It only takes a moment of surprise before his dimples are on full display and he uses his grip on my arm to drag me in closer, while the other unlatches itself to cradle around my waist and keep me secure in place.
“So you’ll quietly wait for me to return and absolutely not cause trouble in which I will have to fix,” Warner said, “right?”
I winked, kissed his cheek, and replied. “Of course.”
“When was the last time you heard from Warner?”
Emmaline never did beat around the bush, she’d waltzed in my bedroom and slammed the door closed behind her. I placed the book I had been annotating down and tried my hardest to project my annoyance into the air between us.
“Awhile ago,” I hissed. “Why?”
She shrugged. I watched as she wandered around my bedroom, the walls painted a pale pink, the mature version of what had originally been the color scheme for our shared bedroom when we were children. In Emmaline’s own bedroom, I’d find almost an identical spread of pastel purple. Mum had always loved coordination.
“Emma, seriously, if you’re just here to bother me get out.”
Her fingers glided along my bookshelves. Objects that Dad had told me to throw out months ago, the Reestablishment saw no need for literature of any kind. I wondered if Emmaline shared his sentiments, she’d always been so complacent.
Finally, my sister turned to look at me point-blank. “I’m just trying to look out for you.”
“Then get to the point.”
“Nazeera told me today that Warner and Lena are together.”
I stood up.
“Like, he’s staying in Europe?”
I could briefly register my heart picking up speed inside my chest. My brain racing to keep up, sorting through every conversation we’d ever had on the topic of Lena. Warner didn’t share many sentiments about being around the other Supreme kids. Had he ever even brought Lena up before?
Emmaline sighed. “Els, you know what I mean.”
“He would have told me.”
“You said it yourself,” she turned back towards the door. “You haven’t heard from him in awhile, maybe things change.”
I went back to bed before I caused havoc. Warner could do with a rest from any of my particular antics, despite what he might believe, I didn’t enjoy making his life harder. I just got bored. In any case, he was lucky his bed was so comfortable.
When I finally rolled out of the red sheets and dressed properly it was already midday. The shower was hot and the water was sharper then back home, but the smell of the soap and the fabric of the towels was comforting. Sometimes it scared me how at home I felt in North America, how much time I’d spent on the other side of the world. Something my sister never understood.
In the corner of Warner’s closet there was a place for my clothes, personally picked out by him, and all perfected to my own tastes. I didn’t like Anderson’s dresses, or the shorts and sleeveless shirts my parents insisted I wore. The Reestablishment liked to remind people I was a weapon. Remind them what one single brush against my shoulder would do.
When I was younger the power felt nice, but it always turned my stomach to see how maids and nannies would watch me with disdain, even fear. Emmaline got similar looks, but not to the same caliber. I’d grown to hate the sight of my own skin. Warner had sat through enough of my tears to know that giving me pretty dresses that exposed my legs or frilly shirts that showed my arms and stomach was the worst possible gift he could give me.
He gave me jeans, leggings, sweaters that came down to my thighs. I had turtlenecks and boots without heels, shirts with sleeves that went past my wrist. They were comfortable and functional, and of course fashionable. He’d given me so many lectures on color theory that at this point I could retell it to myself from memory.
That was the other feeling that came with vacations at Sector 45. For once, in only one place in time, I could completely be myself. And I could go wherever I pleased.
As in any military base, the decor was minimal and the walls were stark white. The building was as boring as it was tall. I wouldn’t get lost though, most of these bases were carbon copies of each other and I’d grown up in these skyscrapers. And I was going to observe the training rooms, not Warner’s private ones that I refused to visit on unpaid time off, but the soldier’s training rooms. They were the same in context, maybe a little less high-grade and much larger. Any soldier who was off duty went there to work on what they lacked.
I passed the hallway guards who shot me strange looks. I couldn’t be sure if it was because they recognize me or because they couldn’t believe a five foot three, little girl was walking around base. Anderson didn’t seem to like employing women, did he?
Delalieu noticed me turning the corner and fluttered towards me, “Miss Sommer, is there anything I could do to be of assistance?” He looked wary and anxious, but then again when didn’t he.
“I’m just fine,” I said. “Shouldn’t you be at the meeting with Warner?”
He shook his head, “It’s not that type of meeting.”
Strange.
I moved towards the training room doors, they weren’t the doors that the soldiers came in through as those were connected to the barracks and the dining hall. They were the doors that Warner would enter through when he wanted to observe his soldiers, maybe punish them when they were unassuming.
Delalieu didn’t so much as stop me, but move towards the door as I attempted to open it. My hands were still bare and I could almost feel the shudder that went through the old man as he saw them revealed against the metal of the handles. The lieutenant's movement caught the eye of the guards and they moved in closer.
“There is no reason to trouble yourself with the soldiers, Miss Sommers.”
I quirked an eyebrow, “Are you hiding something from me?”
“No!” He urgently replied, “Of course not.”
One of the soldiers was leaning in towards the conversation, attempting to be inconspicuous and failing miserably. Who was training these imbeciles? The other actually put a hand on my shoulder and I felt a rush of nausea.
“What seems to be the problem here?” His voice was deep and booming. The soldier was trying to be intimidating, but I could only be concerned with how much I wish I’d worn short sleeves despite the discomfort. “Well―?”
I grabbed his hand.
The soldier’s knees buckled to the ground as I felt the familiar surge of warmth, of strength. I whipped around and kicked him dead-center in the chest sending him rocketing towards the far wall. A loud sound cut off. He’d been screaming, my ears had tuned it out.
I rubbed my hand against my jeans. And looked back at Delalieu.
The guard who had been observing was now straight backed and looking forward like he should have been when I arrived. I scoffed. Delalieu stood out of my way as I opened the metal doors into the training room. They would have all heard the scream. Good, at least then I wouldn’t have to explain myself to anyone again.
This side of the compound wasn’t known for being very hospitable. I almost shivered at the feeling that emitted from the grey walls. Dad was leading, five feet in front of me with a higher-up military persona on one side and what looked like a doctor on the other. They expected me to follow as we went down the winding hallways towards the basement level. I was very familiar with the basement level.
“Alright sweetie,” Dad said.
He opened a chamber door, it creaked under the pressure. I resisted making any sign of displeasure and merely nodded. Walking in and listening as the door closed behind me the second my feet passed the threshold. I was not afraid. I would not tremble.
Supreme Commander Anderson was in charge of any and all missions and assignments I was given. In simple terms, he was my boss. And I hated it. He’d given me the same mission since I’d started training under his care at the ripe age of eight years old; obtain information in relation to the rebel groups opposing the Reestablishment’s control.
The Executioner was in. Ella Sommers was nowhere to be found.
Before me, tied to a chair in the middle of the room, was a man not much older than me. He had the makings of a beard on his face, though he looked ragged. As if he had been struggling to no avail for hours. Maybe days. I stepped out of the shadows of the corners of the room, so he could see me in full view. I caught his attention immediately.
What a vision I must have been. A fourteen year old girl in a dress as green as fresh grass, little white sandals, and her hair done into braids on either side of her head. My appearance made me seem as least three years younger than I was. But if I were to stare myself down in a mirror, I would see the storms behind my eyes. I was not a child.
“Who are you?” The man asked, his voice distinctly accented.
I cocked my head to the side. “You don’t know me?”
He narrowed his eyes. Reassessed myself as I stood before him, I made no threatening movements, but I could see the pulse in his neck jump. He was on edge and didn’t even understand why.
“Why would I know a little girl?” He gritted his teeth, “What are you doing here, huh?”
I’d forced Warner to sit down and watch a nature documentary with me once. He disliked movies, but he preferred anything that had any educational value to the frequent romantic comedies I laid before him. It had been about predators and prey. How the prey could sometimes sense that they were being hunted simply on a whim, but that often it was still not quick enough of a warning to spare them from the predator. It was a biological reaction that ever creature possessed when confronted with a bringer of death.
“I was under the impression that your organization was looking for me.”
The man bit down on his lip. His fear was rising, palpable, as I inched closer.
“But that’s fine if you don’t know who I am.” I raised a hand, “Allow me to introduce myself.”
I found my way to the dining room easily. Warner sat on the far end of the table with a stack of papers in front of him, and two sets of cutlery placed for two people on the table. I found my seat next to him and smiled. He looked up only after a minute of ignoring me.
He looked unimpressed.
“How was your day, my dear?”
“Excellent,” I unfolded my napkin, “and yours?”
Warner blinked and set his papers aside, “Eventful.”
“Do tell,”
“I got a report from my Lieutenant that a guest of mine had debilitated and almost killed one of my men in the middle of a very important meeting with the surrounding sectors.”
I tried my best to look convincingly troubled.
“Ella,”
I wasn’t a very good actress.
“In my defense,” I said, “he touched me first which could very well be seen as an attack.”
There was a bottle of red wine on the table that I picked up and inspected heavily, the label was all but scratched free of any information besides where it came from: Sonoma, CA. When I looked up, Warner was staring straight ahead with a confounding expression.
“What are you doing?” I asked, “Stop thinking, Aaron. Don’t you dare--”
“I’ve come up with a solution.”
My forehead slammed into the porcelain plate. I groaned, and it wasn’t from the newly formed bruise. If only I could find comfort in the dishware. Warner laughed.
“You’re being over dramatic.”
I pushed myself up, squared my shoulders, and took a sip from the wine bottle itself. Warner was leaned back in his chair, watching me with faint amusement, like we we’re playing a game. The bell dinged, signaling that dinner would now be brought in for us. I met his eyes.
“I learned from the best.”
Anderson's eyes turned up at me like a glare, "Report on the status of rebel interrogation."
"Yes, sir." I met him with a practiced ease. Standing from my chair with a ramrod-straight back and an expressionless face, "The Reestablishment has acquired thirteen rebels as of this month. I have interrogated," tortured, "five of the hostiles."
"How many of those were killed by your hand?" The Commander of Europe asks, focused on the papers in front of her and with a voice of disinterest.
"All five," I responded immediately, "sir."
There is a quiet that no one interrupts, not because of the deaths but because of the abject disappointment. They've not heard any of the information I gathered, though they might have read it in the packets of text they seem to be much more interested in flipping through before them.
"Report." Warner's father repeats with a sternness that makes me want to rip his spine out through his throat. There's a beat, a pause, before I begin.
"Number of soldiers is inconclusive, it is estimated no more than a thousand within the North American capital. I was able to extract two safe houses which have since then been removed. The central base of operations, known as Alpha Point, I have only been able to obtain generalizations when it comes to location and management."
"And why is that?" Its Nazeera's father, the Supreme of Asia, this time. "What reason do you have for not finding this rebel stronghold."
My jaw doesn't twitch like I feel it does. There will be no comfort in this room, the Commanders will tear into my failures with promises of punishment if I do not succeed in the future.
"Rumors, sir."
"Rumors?" Anderson's blue eyes have never left my face. I have never flinched in his presence. "What rumors?"
I still, turn my chin a little higher, "The Unnaturals know of me by name."
There's a commotion. It starts with my parents, I'm unsure if they are outraged by the breach in security or the safety of their own child. I don't turn to see the anger that would be clear upon my sister's face. But unfortunately, I don't have to search far for him.
Over his father's shoulder, Warner's eyes burn with a brand of guilt I'm far too use to. For a moment I feel as though he could swallow me whole with that look. The concern, so tangible, for the first time this meeting my heart is in my throat.
He makes me worried about my own safety. Only because I couldn't bear to leave him alone here. Even if we aren't speaking currently.
"Enough," The Commander of Africa slams his stack of papers on the desk. I don't turn to look at him. "Finish the report, Miss Sommers."
They don't usually call me Miss Sommers. That is a name reserved for my sister. My big sister, queen of this world and the next. Most powerful Unnatural, next Supreme Commander of Oceania.
"Yes, sir." I bathe in the silence, "Once the soldiers had realized, individually, of my identity their demeanors had changed."
Anderson was back to staring me down, "How?"
"Some tried to win my sympathy, those were the ones that relinquished the most information. The others attempted to either provoke me or stay silent. It seemed, although there was no chance of escape, they had wanted to observe my ability."
"That's to be expected." I recognized my own mother's voice, "They see her as one of their own, or a betrayer of their own. That will be a good angle to use."
It didn't matter if I agreed. "In the end they were disposed of."
Anderson laced his fingers together and settled his chin atop them, there seemed to be a flicker of amusement in that gaze. It made my stomach revolt. The way he looked at me like a spectacle, a circus animal for them to cage and abuse when they willed it.
"Were they impressed?"
"Excuse me?" My mask faltered for only a second.
"Were the rebels, the Unnaturals, were they impressed by your ability when you killed them?" Anderson’s grin was small and quiet. His words rang and bounced across my skull.
"I believe it was more painful than they had anticipated."
Anderson finally settled back into his seat, "Good. The rebels hear of a girl who can kill a man with a touch, they're going to believe it's instantaneous. Prove them otherwise. I want those eight prisoners interrogated and properly disposed of, and as your commanding officer on this task, I want reports written to me before the tenth of next month."
And just like that, I was dismissed. I settled back into my seat beside Emmeline and felt as her gloved hand crept across the space between us. It was an offer, a broker for peace, I wouldn't take it. I didn't need comfort. This was my task, the job I was raised for.
I would not be the weaker sister between the two of us.
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miafic · 5 years
Text
hi. i had something loosely planned, but i went with this instead.
(in this case, david is like dah-VEED, not DAY-vid)
-----
Awsten fiddled with the pastel eggs in the grocery bag he was holding as the woman standing in front of him finished giving Jawn directions in Portuguese.
“Okay?” she asked through a thick accent at the end of her speech.
“Sim, senhora,” Jawn responded.
She nodded, and then Awsten and Jawn were on their way.
“What did she say?” Awsten whispered as they walked toward the stairs.
Jawn reported, “She wants all the eggs upstairs in the youth room and none anywhere else. And she said to hide them in plain sight so the kids can actually find them.”
“Okay.”
They jogged up the steps together, the little plastic eggs making gentle clicking sounds as they collided in the bag. When they got to the room, it was silent and still. Jawn flipped the light on.
“This is weird,” Awsten stated. He didn’t realize he’d grown so used to Jon’s blaring hip-hop songs.
“Yeah. I can try to turn music on. Hang on.” He went over to the laptop that was set up in the back corner of the room, but after just a few seconds, he sighed. “It’s password protected.”
“Try ‘password’” Awsten suggested.
“I would, but there’s a username thing, too, and it’s blank.”
“Dammit,” Awsten sighed. He wouldn’t necessarily miss the rap, but anything would have been a nice distraction. Plus, if they’d had internet access, they could have listened to whatever they wanted.
“Hey, did you ever do this?” Jawn wondered as he positioned a light pink egg on the break between two couch cushions.
“What? Hunt Easter eggs?”
“Yeah.”
“No. Did you?”
“Never?” Jawn asked in surprise.
Awsten shook his head. “No. Otto did, and they gave me a couple Easter baskets, which was, like, suuuper nice, but they’d always do the egg hunts at church - like this, I guess - and I never went with them.” Trying to push the focus off of him and his shitty childhood, he repeated, “Did you?”
“Uh, yeah. Couple times. Our ‘community,’” he said, setting a pale blue egg down so he could hold up air quotes instead, “set stuff like that up for us sometimes. I had these neighbors, David and Max. They were brothers, and they would always come bang on the door and go, Vamos, vamos! as loud as they could.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “Drove my mom fucking nuts,” he added, shaking his head, “but they were the main reason I got to do everything. Trick or treating, Christmas parties, barbecues, Easter egg hunts…”
“They sound cool.”
“Yeah.”
Jawn turned away, but Awsten didn’t miss the pained expression on his face.
“You good?” He laid a yellow egg against the wall.
“Yeah,” Jawn replied, although his strained voice told another story.
“What?”
“Just, um.” He shrugged and kept his back to Awsten. “Max, the little brother? He got shot a couple years back.”
“What?” Awsten said again, this time in shock.
“Yeah. It was a drive-by thing. They hit the wrong guy.” Jawn’s jaw tensed. “I was fourteen. He was twelve.”
Awsten stood perfectly still as he processed the information.
“It’s fine. It was a while ago.”
“I’m - I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he repeated. “It’s not like I was there or anything.”
“Still. I’m really sorry, Jawn. That’s fucking awful.”
Jawn rubbed his arm over his eyes. “It’s fine,” he said for the third time. “Everything was… different after that, though.”
Awsten nodded even though he didn’t understand at all.
“Kind of the beginning of the end, I guess.”
Awsten hesitated but then asked, “What, um… like, what do you mean?”
Jawn sniffed quietly and sat down on the closest couch. Awsten set his bag down, went over to him, and filled the space beside him. Jawn’s eyes were pink, but Awsten didn’t comment.
“After Max died and David and his parents kind of went off the rails, these two guys c-”
“Hey!” came Zakk’s voice. “Oh - are you guys okay?”
“Yeah,” Awsten replied as easily as he could. He put on a smile. “Just strategizing. Trying to see the room from their height.”
“Smart,” Zakk nodded, but Awsten could see him scanning Jawn’s body language. “Okay, well, we’ve only got five minutes til they’re coming up here, so strategize quick.”
“Kay.”
“Do you want help?” he offered.
“No, that’s okay.”
“You got it?”
“Yep.”
“Alright. We’re all still downstairs if you need us.” He gave Awsten a smile and then asked, “Jawn, are you okay, man?”
“Yep,” came Jawn’s clipped reply.
“Okay. Thanks again for doing this, guys.”
“No problem,” Awsten chirped.
Zakk gave him a grateful smile. “Like I said - we’re downstairs. Just come down when you’re done so we know the room’s ready.”
Awsten nodded.
Zakk left, and Awsten looked at Jawn again, but he was standing up and smearing his hand underneath his eyes, going to stuff eggs wherever he could.
Awsten didn’t press him.
-----
A few minutes later, there were fifteen kids buzzing excitedly in the hallway. Their Sunday school teacher gave them the okay to go in, and the scene was even more chaotic than Awsten had expected.
The best part was that right in the middle of the pack was Travis, who was wearing a headband with floppy rabbit ears and smiling widely as he made a beeline for the first egg he saw.
One of the little kids got it first and dropped it into their tiny basket, and Travis’ face fell, but he quickly spotted another one and ran directly to it, picking it up and shaking it excitedly. He shoved it into the basket and went on his way.
“Thank you gentlemen for volunteering to hide the eggs,” Lucas said, coming up behind Awsten and Jawn as they watched the kids joyfully run about the room.
“You’re welcome,” Jawn replied.
Awsten chuckled as Travis found another egg and cried, “It’s pink!” He looked over at Awsten excitedly and waved, and Awsten waved back and then gave him a thumbs up.
Travis beamed.
-----
Ham for dinner.
Yuck.
But everyone else was excited, so Awsten didn’t complain. Plus, he got to make mashed potatoes, which was a good stress reliever. No - coping skill. That phrase had been drilled into his head over the previous few months. Smashing up the potatoes was a great coping skill.
“Jawn, you’re up first tonight,” Zakk said a few minutes into dinner.
“My high was eating this,” Jawn commented quietly, not looking up from his plate, “and my low was setting up for the egg hunt.”
Awsten pursed his lips.
“Why?” Lucas asked curiously.
Jawn just shrugged.
Awsten watched as Lucas and Zakk traded an unreadable glance.
“Okay. Is that all you want to say?” Lucas inquired.
“Yeah.”
“Can I go next?” Awsten piped up.
“Sure,” Lucas replied, seeming a little surprised at the uncharacteristic question.
“My high was setting up for the egg hunt and watching Travis do a great job finding all those Easter eggs, and my low was, um… finding out we were having ham for dinner.”
Zakk’s eyes narrowed in concentration as he glanced between Jawn and Awsten. Lucas just looked confused.
“I did good!” Travis announced.
“Yeah, dude, you did great,” Zakk agreed, shifting his attention to Travis. “You got all those pink eggs, didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh!”
“And you looked cool doing it,” Zakk added.
Travis grinned. “Thank you!”
Lucas was still stuck on what had gone on between Jawn and Awsten, but Awsten just looked at him and gave him a tiny smile.
-----
At bedtime, Awsten came back in from brushing his teeth to find Lucas sitting on Jawn’s bed with a concerned expression on his face.
“-how to help a little better now, so thank you for telling me.”
Jawn nodded and sniffed hard, wiping at his cheeks. His head was bowed, but even from the strange angle, Awsten could tell that he was crying.
Lucas froze when he noticed Awsten, but Jawn just glanced at him and went back to quietly crying.
“Do you think he’s in Heaven?” Jawn asked anxiously, and Awsten went and sat on his own bed, where he picked up Twilight, which he’d been forced back into. He thumbed through it, pretending to be focusing very hard on finding his page.
“He came to church every Sunday,” Jawn promised, looking up at Lucas, desperate for his answer. “He prayed the rosary every day. I know he did. I know.”
“Jawn-”
“He was always nice. He was a good guy. And he was only in sixth grade-” Jawn’s voice broke, and he let out a sob.
Lucas leaned forward and set his hand on Jawn’s shoulder. “Shh,” he murmured. “I’m sure he is.”
“But you said-”
“I’m sure he is.”
Awsten frowned down at his book. This whole situation sucked, and Awsten felt genuinely bad for Jawn.
“Do you want to pray for him?” Lucas suggested softly, and Jawn nodded. “Okay. Here.”
“Awsten, you, too,” Jawn said.
Awsten looked over, his eyes wide.
Jawn was looking right at him, face covered in tears.
How the hell was Awsten supposed to say no to that? He got up, Twilight forgotten on his thin quilt, and went to sit beside Jawn and Lucas. Tentatively, he slipped an arm behind Jawn’s back, and neither Jawn nor Lucas stopped him.
They bowed their heads, and, in a whisper, Lucas began to pray.
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bmpmp3 · 5 years
Text
rainyluneblogs replied to your photoset “I’m lowkey weirdly drawn to Star-Crossed Myth despite only playing...”
@shadowfairyy this loooks sick as hell?????? how did you do that effect please teach me your ways
adjsjsj thank u for asking i spent way longer than needed on those effects and I am ITCHING to TELL MY TALE OF TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS
okay to preface this: there is Absolutely a better, more efficient way to do this, maybe with something like after effects? i don’t have that ‘cause its a trillion dollars but there’s probably alternatives but also I was Too Lazy to learn something new but not too lazy to spend 2 hours tryna fudge it with my trusty drawing program clip studio paint and also a copy of photoshop
so like..,, i drew the drawing right? the bishounen freaking out in the foreground, the space-y background in the..background (i used some default pastel type brushes just really big and some constellation brush i got off clip studio assets and just went ham qwq i have no restraint with fun brushes im like an 8 year old with kid pix)  i used one of my many, many glittery effect brushes to make slap some on a layer between the background and foreground and also on a layer on top of it all, this brush was like, glowing shards? random glowing shapes, i thought it looked neat, i got it off clip studio assets but if you use another program you can probably find similar brushes or resources for other programs~ or if you really wanted you could draw it all in yerself lol I gave a little buffer space all around the drawing, so like theres this blank space surrounding it where the shards keep going, this was so when they move they dont get cut off lol
what i did was i opened it in photoshop to make an animation (still havent learned the clip studio animation features lol, i think fire alpaca has some pretty good animation stuff tho so thats an alternative!) and like so each frame i just shifted the glowing shard layers up or down (i made the two layers go in different directions ‘cause i thought it looked cool) by one single arrow key press each frame i did it manually sobs 15 frames each colour so it wasnt too bad here’s what the timeline looks like!
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so yeah theres definitely better ways to do that but this...is what i did
for the transition frams between colours i just used a motion blur effect, i think both clip studio and photoshop have it, sai probably has it too? i remember gimp having it, not sure about fire alpaca its been a minute since i used that one but yeah just a motion blur lol
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he must go.... his planet needs him
the framerate was consistent throughout, i think it might be like 12fps? 30fps? i chose no delay for the timing on photoshop I don’t know what that is in real person words and then i just cropped out that buffer space i added earlier~ and BAM it was done
the actual full sized gif file was wayyy bigger than the one i uploaded to tumblr so i made it like a quarter of the size but if you wanna watch yer internet Beg For Mercy as it attempts to load a 25mb gif here’s the link to it on my dA~
OH i almost forgot, in the background glowing shard layer, I went at some of the shards with an airbrush shaped eraser tool with the opacity real low so I could make some of the shards look like theyre fading into the distance atmospheric perspective babey
if you wanna try something similar I’d recommend not being like me and instead learning some kinda aftereffects type program or something BUT if yer determined all you need is yer draiwng program of choice and access to a copy of photoshop OR oorRR this might be even more tedious but you could use just firealpaca and alpacadouga ‘cause its free and really good in my opinion (i used to use it before i got csp), or if you wanna use a different drawing program that doesnt have an export each layer as a separate image button theres this little free tool i like called grimace for exporting a bunch of images from one psd that i adore, its supposed to be for visual novel assets but I use it for all kinds of things now lol
i guess the moral here is you can do all kinds of professional looking stuff with just what you got on hand or maybe some little freeware things (and a few hours) if yer determined enough qwq the other moral is that im crazy 
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