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tracle0 · 1 year

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hi hi Trade, I am here because I simply Must know more about Elan immediately please and thank you (also do you have any tunes for him? just by the look of him n his vibe I feel like he'd have some bangers) mwah ok bye

:D HELLO

I'm tagging @khufiya-khaufnak-antariksh here as well cause you both asked about Elan and I figured I'd just babble a lil about them to both of you here, hello, thank you for your interest!!!

Okay okay okay Elan issssss yeah! A fucking mess, basically! They, they, they. Hmm. HMMM!

They're basically the result of a fun kidnapping and testing that was executed on a wide number of colour mages. Elan semi-volunteered for it, with zero intention of actually taking part, and then took part anyway. Sucks to be them.

I don't know an awful lot about the actual process, but the general aim of it was to see how much colour could be taken from a mage before they. Yknow. Fucking died. Which for most people was alarmingly far! Strip magic away and see how deep this colourlessness can go.

Alas, most of the people fucking died before anything truly interesting could happen. But but but! Elan did! Not! For various reasons I'm keeping disclosed, they were full of spite and rage and Vengence and decided actually, you know, I'm not gonna die, I'm gonna take this white you're pumping me full of and just. Harness that, thank you very much. Reject the magic you were born with and embrace this synthetic model instead.

Basically, edge 14-year-old brain went 'teehee evil science experiment character :)))?' and I went oh HELL yeah!

Elan is the kinda guy who likes gardening :)! Lil gardener fella! They've got a section of BigBad's base wardened off for Just Them, where they have a little living area and a big garden, where they spend most of their time, chilling out, feeling At Peace, crushing any sliver of green that starts to edge into any stalks or leaves. It is a petrified garden. It could not survive without them. They love it dearly. Sometimes, when they get overwhelmed or frustrated, they smash it and sob in its remains until it's replaced and they start the cycle over again.

They also stand as one of the first characters of mine where I looked at them and decided they wanted to be in a lil relationship, which is nice and good for them! Less good for them that it's, uh, with the. BigBad. The woman who funded and dictated the research that made them Like This.

The relationship is very much a. Toxic one. Power struggles between the two, knowing full well they've hurt each other badly and still coming back for more. By the end of the first book, they quite literally stab her in the back and ease her into her death, all romantic style.

Mmmm despite how things have been phrased, I think Elan does quite like being a White. They want more people to be White so they can understand how things are, how they should be. Very obsessed with perfection and cleanliness and purity. Bleached as many pigments out of themselves as they possibly could, and still finds the red of their blood to be grating.

I have exactly one (2) songs that vibes for them at the moment which I think you know both of, Monday? Tis 'The Quittin' Kind' by Eleisha Eagle and 'Pretty Little Head' by Eliza Rickman. Both vibe with the more toxic part of their relationship with the BigBad. Who has no name. Pretend she does.

Okay that's it! Bye! Thank you!

#GET FUCKED THAT'S NOT ALL NYEHHEEHHEHH #there's. like I said. certain things about Elan that I'm keeping to my chest because I think they're better as a reveal #as said they're the antagonist. the protagonists are a fella named Red who is a red mage and also fully blind #and uses his magic to be able to 'see' (detect where red and orange objects are and navigate with that)#(he also has a guide dog named cocoa who I am excited for)#and Ultra! Which is not her actual name she still doesn't have one either orzzzz #she's a purple mage which is Rare in this world and so hunted by the elite to be trained for service to them #she's apprenticed to Red and they work together to try and track down an object he heard about that destroys magic #MAJOR spoilers as I'm sure you're able to guess - said object is Elan themselves!#and maybe they have uhhhhhhhhh interesting relationship with Red for reasons and things and events #who's to say #I am not going to let Ultra get overshadowed by the angatonist. I'm not. I swear it. she's a character in her own way and I love her #she needs a name smhhhhh #okay that's all now thankie lovie byeeeee #colour wip #elan

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beesartandstuffs · 4 years

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Shot in the Dark: Interim- Chapter 4

(oh, did I say the next few days? It’s today :3

Also, please not that while this chapter is written in second person, it is not a reader-insert.

Don’t forget to LIKE, COMMENT and REBLOG!!!)

SHOT IN THE DARK MASTERLIST (find more stories here!)

~~~

It would be easy to say that your life goal has been very simple: Reunite with your parents and live the rest of your lives in peace. That's all you wanted, at first. That's the only thing that made sense.

Well, besides the fact that your mother was dead. For some reason, that never really deterred you.

You remember the look on your uncle's face when you first said you wanted to see her. In retrospect, you feel bad. The lines on his forehead had deepened and he was speechless for a moment as you waited expectantly.

"Your… you can't see your mother anymore, Liam," he had said to you, as gently as he could. His eyes were misty but resolute. "We buried her in November, remember? Did you want to visit her graveside?"

You had shaken your head. No, you wanted to talk to her in person. You had questions that only she could answer. Uncle Damien hadn't been able to say anything else and Aunt Emma had spoken up. "Maybe we can talk about this when you're older, dear."

You were a reasonable child. You waited until about five years later, a week after your tenth birthday, to bring it up again. (You had waited a week in order to avoid interrupting the festivities.)

"I want to talk to my mom and dad," you had said, in the most grown-up tone you could muster.

Emma and Damien had exchanged glances.

Damien left to make a phone call.

All three of you woke up with bloody noses that night.

Col. William was in a good mood when you sat across from him at the big metal table in the big cold room. A guard in a uniform stood nearby, but the Colonel was handcuffed. You weren't afraid of him, anyway.

“Hello, Dad,” you said in a friendly tone. You sat politely in the big chair, your feet dangling several inches from the ground, with your hands in your lap.

He didn't look up from his notebook for a while, but when he did, he looked surprised. "Well, good morning, my boy," he said kindly, even though it was early afternoon. "My name is William J. Barnum, but you may call me Colonel. I'd shake your hand, but…" He gestured with the handcuffs on his wrists. You smiled slightly, and he continued. "What brings a young lad like you to a place like this?"

So he'd forgotten already. Emma had warned you he would. "My name is Liam," you said patiently. "You forgot me, but I'm your son."

"Son?" He shook his head, laughing. "Oh, I can't have a son. Celine would never allow that to happen. Her husband is quite the unpredictable man, you know."

Celine. Your mother. You grasped onto that, leaning forward. "What was Celine like, Colonel?"

He paused and tilted his head. "Celine is… strong. Stubborn, but brilliant, vivacious, enrapturing…" A sigh escaped his lips and he smiled dreamily. "My first love. My only love, truly."

Quickly, before you thought to lose your nerve, you asked, "Was she a witch?"

"Heavens no!" You were thankful that the Colonel laughed, instead of being offended. "Goodness, where could you get an idea like that? Ah, wagging tongues, most likely. Most unfortunate." Shaking his head, he looked down at his journal and laughed to himself. "No, she was not a witch, my boy. She was fascinated with the supernatural, had been since she was but a slip of a girl. I never discouraged her, but… I'll admit I did worry." He shook his head again, his smile fading. "But she was always quite a bit smarter than I, so I didn't question her. I assumed she knew what she was getting into."

Suddenly, he frowned, and looked up at you. The sharp gaze of his dark eyes was sad but incredibly intelligent. "... How could this be?" he asked softly. "She told me she gave you up."

It took you a moment to realize that he knew who you were. "She did. Uncle Abe found me and took me to Emma and Damien."

He nodded, not seeming surprised. "Honest Abe… so he did hear me," he murmured. "You're a fortunate boy. Damien's probably a better father than I could ever be."

You never even tried, you thought you might like to say. But you didn't, because your father was here and he recognized you and you could be a family now.

"They'll raise you to be a good man," he continued, and your heart dropped. "I'm not getting out of here any time soon, so I hope you visit me again. It'll be a nice change from only seeing Abe every few months."

"But—" This isn't how it's supposed to go. You found him, he knows you. He's supposed to take care of you. "Why can't I stay with you?"

He smiled, and this one was sadder than ever. "Prison isn't a good place to raise a growing boy, I'm afraid. Besides, I'm…" He looked down at his journal. "I forgot again, didn't I? I remembered the wrong things."

"I remember wrong things too!" you insisted, but he shook his head gently at you, not looking up.

"Not like this. Like this, I'd… I couldn't do right by you. Emma and Damien are good people, they aren't… like me."

"What's wrong with you?" you demanded, hurt and scared and naive.

He didn't answer then, so you asked again. But he didn't say anything even when the guard came to pull you out. You weren't sure why the guard had come until you felt moisture on your face and your throat was sore, and you realized you'd been crying, which had escalated into screaming, and you didn't know how to stop.

The guard passed you off to the warden, nursing a bloody nose, and you didn't remember hitting him but you were sorry, and you tried to apologize but the only noises you could make were sobs and cries like a wounded animal’s.

Uncle Abe was waiting for you in the front office. You couldn't stand the look on his face when he saw your state, so you turned your face away, allowing yourself to be handed off like a limp marionette and burying your face in his shoulder.

He didn't say anything to you as he buckled you into his cruiser, but he did squeeze your shoulder. You guessed that that was his attempt at comforting you, so you decided to appreciate it.

The warden came out to the car, then, and Abe shut the door to talk to him in relative private. After a subdued but tense conversation, the warden handed Abe a package, which he tucked into his jacket.

He didn't say anything at all until he asked if you wanted to get some ice cream, to which you nodded miserably.

He let you choose a park bench to enjoy your treats. You always got chocolate with liberal amounts of sprinkles, and he indulged in a simple scoop of strawberry.

The park bench was too tall for you, but you were a bit small for your age. You didn't mind getting to swing your legs, and it's hard to cry when you're eating ice cream, because the salt doesn't taste very good, so you were starting to feel better.

Abe passed his cone to one hand and reached over with the other to ruffle your wild black hair. "Didn't go how you expected, huh?"

Wordlessly, you shook your head.

"That's okay, kid. Nothing can really prepare you for that." His hand fell back to his lap, and you contemplated his statement.

"What's wrong with… with William?" you asked finally, having decided not to call him by either "Colonel" or "Father", for he was neither your friend nor a paternal figure. He had forfeited that right.

Abe sighed, took off his hat and ran his hand over the fuzz on his head. "He's… well, I dunno for sure, kid. He's not all there, yknow? Forgets things. Remembers things wrong. Thinks things are true that aren't. Stuff like that."

"I do that too," you point out, because it's true. Just the night before you had woken up thinking you had a dog, and Damien had had to keep you from going out in the cold to find her because she had "gotten lost in the golf greens".

It still felt like you had a dog, but there was no dog there, so you'd decided to believe Damien.

Abe knew you weren't lying. He simply searched your face, nodding thoughtfully, and finished his ice cream with a pensive scowl. As you both crunched on your cones, he spoke up again. "Liam, there's something the Colonel wants you to have."

You immediately abandoned your determination to forget William ever existed. "A present? For me?"

A small grin crossed his face as he reached into his coat and pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. You reached for it instinctively, then remembered yourself and placed your hands back in your lap, waiting for him to speak.

Taking note of your rarely-seen excitement, Abe passed the package to you. "I think there's a note inside, but it might be hard for you to re—"

Before he could even finish speaking, you'd already torn the string and paper off and were reading the handwritten note tucked inside the cover of a small, plain, blank notebook.

The note was written in elegant but firm script. Some of the words were crossed out and rewritten, and you noticed that most of them were when he referred to things in the present when really they were in the past— a mistake you'd been known to make as well.

My Dear Son William Jr.,

I hasten to write this while I still have my mind. It comes and goes these days, and I fear that you may be predisposed to the same problems. Hence, this little gift.

My boy, sometimes the world will not make sense to you. Sometimes, you may forget things, or remember something that didn't really happen. In times like that, it may be helpful to have something you can look back on, something that you know is correct and unchangeable.

The written word is a powerful thing, my boy, and I pray that someday you realize just how true that statement is.

This journal is a tool, my dear son, to help you keep your mind in order. Everything you experience, every thought you have, write it down in this little book. It may feel silly at first, but I promise you, the minute you remember something that no-one else does, you can look back in this book and find the truth.

I hope you find it useful.

All my love,

The Colonel

~~~

Tag list: @mayor-damien-protection-squad@markired@blackaquokat@pleaseletthisjimbetaken@gravitykaz@jojored22@neverisadork@withjust-a-bite @gmcfyuffins @satansladydoor (If I’ve tagged you and you don’t want to be tagged, please tell me! Inversely, if you would like to be tagged in these, don’t be afraid to ask!)

#markiplier #who killed markiplier #wkm- shot in the dark #ocliam #wkm colonel #wkm abe #DAEmmaBailey #wkm damien #fanfic #fanfiction #writersofmark

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