#i've never posted my content on tumblr

[lionheart-and-badgersoul]

[iarrelm]

An early morning conversation about tea got a little out of hand

[trigunwritings]

Hey! Saw your new blog! Lovely layout! Anyway, if your accepting requests can I please have a request of vash traveling with a time traveler that claims they are from 21st century earth but are now stuck on Norman land? Maybe she tells him stories of all the wonders of the world?(huge trees that touch the sky, thousands of flowers of different colors, all the different types of donuts that exist, water that comes from the sky in such huge amounts it could flood a valley, volcanos that spew hot lava and giant glaciers of ice that float in giant pools of water) they just tell each other stories of their adventures on their respective planets while vash also teaches his time traveler buddy all the stuff about Noman land. Much thanks!

Vash's eyes fill with glittering awe as the words of home continue to fall from your lips. Of Earth. What had once been idle conversation to fill the awkward and empty air quickly became stories of things that had, at least at one point, been completely normal to you. As normal as things could be to a person who had been whisked away from everything familiar and safe in the blink of an eye. Even weeks after the fact, you still clutch onto the dire hope that you're simply dreaming a fantastical, horrifying dream.

"So you're telling me it could rain so much that it could fill up this entire gorge?"

The man's tone had not faltered from childish disbelief for a moment since deciding to tell him of the various wonders of Earth—it is so different from this... place, this No Man's Land of endless desert and scorching heat.

The fact that anyone could even survive upon such an inhospitable planet is beyond understanding.

Your eyes glance from one side of the rocky landscape to the other, then up towards where the edges of the rocks jut into the amazingly bright sky. Several meters high and several more wide at least. Idly, you wonder what could have happened in the history of this planet to create such a formation if rain was not the maker.

Nonetheless, you nod and look towards him again. "Easily," you say with a smile nearly forced. "There are plenty of places on Earth where the rain would fall so quickly that the ground can't absorb it quick enough—even in the desert. I think they were still called flash floods."

"Would it rain like that everywhere?"

"Oh no, not everywhere," you say, tapping a finger to your chin. "Lots of places didn't get so much rain that it washed everything away. There were forests and jungles, meadows and mountains—have you ever even seen a tree?"

"A tree?"

The blonde looks utterly befuddled by the word, though there's a thin veil of... recognition? He doesn't offer anything besides a look of genuine interest as that expression fades away, and you're not sure if you had simply misread him, and merely nod.

"A tree. It's tall and full of bright green leaves usually—Earth had all sorts, some were so huge you couldn't see the top, others grew fruit like apples and oranges."

You take a moment or so before glancing down towards your feet. There isn't even a tuft of grass, a sprig of green; dead or alive, there isn't an inch of plant growth to be found.

"Trees and grass... and bushes and flowers—never thought I'd be this desperate to even just see weeds or some cactuses."

Vash blinks, looking both as if he understands and doesn't at the same time, but before he can say anything the ground suddenly starts to shake beneath your feet. Not hard; it feels like a gentle rumbling as opposed to anything else, but fear rolls down your spine all the same.

"What-" you say, trying desperately to figure out if the shaking is coming from something large moving outside of what you can see within the valley of the gorge. "What is that? An earthquake?"

"Earthquake?" Vash sounds too amused, but lays a hand on your shoulder to steady you—perhaps more emotionally than physical. "That's just a sand-worm. Big one, I bet. They don't tend to surface in rocky places so I don't think we need to worry about anything."

A dozen questions immediately surface about nearly every word that came out of the man's mouth, but you shove them down so as to nod in silent acceptance of his answer. The rumbling continues for at least a minute before eventually calming down, leaving the ground beneath your feet still once more.

Vash removes his hand from your shoulder and adjusts himself, flashing a grin that looks almost stupidly energetic on his face.

"See? Nothing to worry about."

You simply remain silent, brows furrowing just enough over your downturned eyes that the stress must have looked obvious enough; your traveling partner quickly makes a noise to get your attention and gestures widely with his hands as he talks.

"Look, we're way too small to be considered any kind of good eating to a sand-worm like that—those things mostly eat tiny bug that live deep in the dunes out in the open sea anyway."

What?

"Sea?" The confusion grabbed you so quickly that there wasn't a moment to be concerned over the horrible way Vash had described such a monstrous thing—humans were too small? You narrow your eyes at him and tilt your head to the side. "What do you mean sea?"

He meets your confusion with some of his own, echoing the expression across your face.

"I mean... the open sand," he explains with a useless wave of his hand out towards the end of the gorge the two of you had entered from, where the sand dunes rolled on for miles upon miles. "No town for days, just dunes and stuff."

"That's...a desert."

Vash only looks more confused as you try to clarify his choice of words. It leaves you wondering if, perhaps, there's been a defined shift in what he means from your use of the language.

"A sea is a large body of water," you finally explain, uselessly trying to conjure up flashes of memories in your mind as if that would help you describe it perfectly into words he could connect with. "Like, huge. They're hundreds of miles wide at the smallest and deeper than anyone could ever swim. They have dolphins and whales and squids—"

"Are you sure you're not making some of those words up?" Vash asks with a chuckle, but you ignore him in favor of trying to finish your thoughts.

"—and we'd have huge ships that could sail across them, sometimes people would spend vacations on fancy cruises or— or scientists would find all sorts of new animals we never knew existed! They were huge and deep and filled with water and not sand—"

As your words turn less explanatory and more frantic, you swear that the world starts to shake just a little bit. Or maybe that's just you shaking, brain unable to wrap around the fact that this never-ending desert is not home, it's not Earth, and you are far, far away from anything even remotely familiar to you.

To this, Vash finally seems to take a step towards you, face empty of humor and instead filled with a look of soft concern.

"Hey hey hey—" his hands fall on your shoulders just hard enough that the pressure snaps your mind out of its whirlwind of worry. "Don't start thinking too much about it. I promise I don't think you're lying, not at all."

Your eyes meet his own for several long seconds. Even through the tint of his glasses, you can't help but feel comforted by the soft blue-green of the man's eyes, mirroring a perfectly clear sky and filled with an assurance so strong you couldn't help but feel calmed at least a little.

"...I miss it," the words gently mumble past your lips. "All of it. Earth."

"There's nothing wrong for someone to miss home," he whispers in return, soft tone nearly lost in the wind blowing through the gorge and whistling its lonely reminders. "And I'll do everything I can to make sure you go back to it, okay?"

Your face bounces with a nod after a few seconds, temporarily comforted from the anxiety biting at the edges of fragile thoughts.

"Please," you say, gentle and firm, "Don't make promises you can't keep."

Vash is silent for a moment. At first you think he's going to say nothing and merely change the subject or hurry the two of you to keep moving before the day turns too hot—but instead, the grip of his hands on your shoulders grow tight and hard, just short of uncomfortable.

"Don't worry." The words are simple, and there's a smile on his face. "I won't."

It's a painful, honest smile.

[crimeronan]

youtube shorts is recommending me anti-trans accounts doing street interviews in portland like "omg omg ongggg kitkat look look look we made algyrythm so good. look look ❗️❗️❗️ you live here, yes?? 🥳 we know where you live?? 👉👈 you like local content?? 🥺 you like portland?? 👉👈 you want see portland???? 🥺🥺🥺 HERE PORTLAND POSTER!!! 😄" like. damn dude i actually feel kinda bad that you tried so hard. like you actually did pick up maybe one-half of a topic i like to watch videos about. it's like when a little kid tries to pick flowers for their mom and gives her an allergic reaction instead. i'm sitting here like wow. is this really what portland videos are?? is it seriously all just viral conservative clickbait and longform videos about fake meme polycules???

.....should i have a fucking youtube account where i post about being in an actual portland polycule????

[xyl4-4444]

Well here's a Rosier ref sheet cuz' I havent revealed them till' now

This is the demon that brought cambions like Leiah to life btw...

BONUS!!!!

Rosier doodles why not..

[necrotic-nephilim]

Any ships you don’t like in the batfam fandom that is popular?

OOOH this is such a fun question because I have quite a few

StephCass - i'll be honest this is one of those ships where the fandom ruined it for me. because 2000s StephCass is an elite dynamic, they care for each other so deeply. but the fandom has been intent on defanging and purifying this ship. i don't know *why* but StephCass seems most popular with the anti-Batcest crowd who get very mad if you compare it to ships they deem Batcest. i have an entire meta commentary on this in my drafts I'll likely never post discussing why the only reason StephCass gets the pass for not being Batcest ties directly into misogyny (because the women of the Batfam need to exist as love interests first, not family members so Steph was never going to truly get to exist as a "full" Batfam member so long as she could remain a viable love interest for Tim, and the same can apply to Babs, Helena, and even Cass in some cases) and that just sours me to it. like if i want yuri in Batfam i think there are far more interesting/fucked up ships for Steph like Babs/Steph or Helena/Steph. and when it comes to what i'd actually like to see in canon, i don't want to see Steph relegated to love interest of a Batfamily member, even if it's queer. let her date and exist outside of Gotham the way every other Batfam member gets to, DC *please*.

Bruce/Selina - i can't fully articulate why this ship isn't my thing, it just isn't. i think i just can't conceivably agree with Selina letting go of so many of her fundamental morals and beliefs for the sake of a man, even one she loves such as Bruce. ironically, i think that's one of the few things Gotham War got right about these two. the only canon love interest i like for Bruce is Zatanna and i mourn we'll never get much of that.

JayRoy - i will admit when i was newer to DC the first comics i picked up for Jason were all New-52 and i shipped this. but now that i'm a pre-Flashpoint truther and i've actually read well-written Roy Harper comics, i only see the flaws in this ship. ngl if ppl were actually fun and interesting with it, playing with the idea of Roy knowing Jason as Robin and still seeing him as just Dick's little brother who's gone a little mental, it *could* be fun. but this Red Hood & the Outlaws (2011) and Red Hood/Arsenal (2015) dynamic *butchers* the fuck out of Roy and strips him of everything interesting. and even as a Batfamily stan, my number one pet peeve is when other DC characters get *butchered* in a Batfamily character's book just for the sake of propping up the Bat as some kind of savior. free Roy Harper from this mans.

Bruce/Oliver - we could be here all day if i listed all the Bruce ships i don't like, but i figure this one has to be included. because oh my god either the people shipping this *really* don't understand Oliver Queen or they just hate his ass because why would you subject Oliver to this man. he can't *stand* Bruce. i really hate the popular BruOliie shipping dynamic of like "oh they were boarding school besties" because if you want that, you *should* like Bruce/Zatanna, not these two. Oliver just always gets butchered in these fics and i won't stand for it.

Tim/Bernard - the ESSAYS i could write on this ship and why i dislike it. the fucking *fear* DC (and most popular media tbh) has with depicting queer relationships as anything other than totally perfect and cute for fear of accusations of homophobia has stripped this ship of *any* real grit. Bernard is a non-character in Tim Drake: Robin, he exists to cheer Tim on and prop him up and just be The Boyfriend. we occasionally get glimpses of an interesting character with really interesting trauma and nothing is *done* with it bc at the end of the day, Tim and Bernard must be perfect and cute. what's fun about Tim is he is the *worst* boyfriend alive. that boy is *ass* at dating. all of his relationships are rich with conflict and yet the moment he dates a guy suddenly all of his flaws vanish? i hate it. i mourn what this could've been if we kept messy Tim Drake and had a Bernard who was actually informed by his trauma. DC please let gays be messy again. also of all of Tim's 90s/00s friends to bring back as a love interest, Bernard Dowd was just a *bizarre* fucking choice. Sebastian Ives was *right* there come on now.

Any Crossover Ship - look if crossovers are your cup of tea i'm happy for you but oh my god if i have to see that little green ghost boy or that ladybug girl in the Batfam one more time i think i may explode. i have a lot of thoughts on *why* i think specifically Danny Phantom and Miraculous Ladybug get crossed over as often as they do with the Batfam, but i don't think anyone wants to year that. my only exception to this is Jason/Bucky Barnes, but it *has* to be comics!Bucky. like. Judd Winick's Jason and Ed Brubaker's Bucky would hatefuck and that i wish to see it. any other crossover ship (especially the Peter Parker ones that seem to be rising in popularity) just do *not* do it for me.

honestly besides that i don't think i dislike many ships. (aside from being super opinionated on Bruce ships, but that's mostly bc ppl will use him to butcher the character they ship him with) there are some ships i'm neutral to because i simply do not know enough to have an opinion (like Dick/Wally). i guess the only Batcest ship i'm not particular to is Bruce/Damian, but I wouldn't say that one is popular nor would i say i dislike it, just that it's not my cup of tea. most Batcest ships click for me in one way or another because i like their Weird dnyamics. i guess i could also say i dislike most ships that have come out of Young Justice (tv) because. oh my *god* why were those group of characters put together on a team. it's baffling. but even then it's not disliking those ships, it's moreso disliking that show's depiction of those characters so. everything is really dependant on the canon context for me!

[kyouka-supremacy]

Mmmhh...

[angeltism]

> go into arcane season 1 tag

> posts tagged as arcane season 2 that talk about shit that happens in s2

[freakwiththeknifecollection]

Yeah, you should only create for yourself, but if I'm putting it out there I would like to know that I'm not just endlessly shouting into the void

[heffrondriving]

soooo. that new big time rush album huh

[duthea]

just saw some ugly thing pop up and tell me i got a "tumblr badge" or something, calling the post i just made "content", and now it's telling me to enable it, but i can't find any way to disable it in my settings... if i just ignore it will it go away on its own? i don't want to see this shit

[princesspeach5]

twitter adding a massive amount of completely random (and often negative or upsetting) tweets to the for you page and removing the context for why relevant tweets are there and instagram actually removing posts from your feed after you've seen them so it can say "you're all caught up" and show you posts from people you don't follow have rendered both almost unusable

[mathmusicreading]

Blog(ger) Shift

I am, so weird and bad about original posting and about reblogging and about saving things on Tumblr and that's why my blog has been mostly inactive or the lurking consumer type. But I don't want my fears about putting myself out there, being seen and known, articulating myself well vs. having been told my whole life I'm too wordy and opinionated vs. not managing to articulate myself well enough to justify being verbose and passionate, etc. to continue to control me so much.

So for my new specific-interest sideblog that I'm not locking, I hope it being themed will help me with making more original posts and reblogging, and I'm publicizing that here to push myself and also welcome interaction.

RIP to my other public specific-interest sideblog and the fandom sideblog I took over for someone that I didn't take further and to my private sideblogs that were meant to make me reblog and save and say stuff because they would be personal and just for me. I still would like to make those happen and reblogging and posting things that matter to me here, and oh my heart for the content ideas I haven't been working on, but they're pipedreams with how I'm (not) managing my life and I keep kicking those cans down the road.

To the person who I developed a real relationship with as a beta but who by now I probably count as having disappeared on with how long it's been and my not coming back to explicitly say I still can't help and don't know when I can, I am so sorry. I'm being a coward languishing in hoping I can tell you soon that I can get back into beta-ing for you and talking, but that's turned into me not talking to you because I'm waiting to be able to say something positive. Hopefully my vaguing here can help push me into talking to you, or at least this is here for you to read if you happen to see it; and I want you to know you absolutely can talk to me, can call me out, and if you're so gracious as to still want to be friends with me and just chat despite my dropping being your beta, I'm here for you and still want to be your friend even if I don't know if I'll have the spoons to be a good one and I know my saying that preemptively isn't apology or justification enough.

Honest assessment, I'm going to curse and say my living situation and work have both become even more of a shitshow, and with those things in mind I can't begin to imagine handling a real project until basically literally a year from now.

Which segues back into the main topic of this post. My goal isn't to have my new sideblog be like an active mainblog nor to abandon this blog—people interested in that blog can and should still interact with me here given how primary vs. secondary blogs on Tumblr work, and in terms of using that blog to help make me be a better Tumblr user, I think I should make certain original posts here and reblog them there as opposed to them being original there. With my mental-emotional and time resources, I want that blog to be "active" for a given definition of active, but really I think I should see my objective as "clear out tabs and likes and photos and lists and notes and drafts, etc. from the last four months" by saving stuff there, as opposed to my goal being the original posts I want to make there, and actually my long-term goal should be to use that momentum to do the same for older digital and physical storage that hasn't been lost or stolen. In my failure to be an interesting person, do I at least manage to be fascinating as a basket-case? Ha. But, also, as expressed above the Read More, the exercise of my danmei/Chinese sideblog is supposed to be a foray into me allowing myself to be an interesting person.

[jessisnotnormal]

Chapter 1: Favour

Masterlist

“You sure you’ve got everything?” Jada asked, hurrying round the living room to pick up some last-minute items. “Make sure you give her a bottle with her tea. They’re in the fridge at the back, remember to warm it up first, won’t you?”

            “I’m not a complete idiot, you know,” Jim responded with a laugh. “I do have a vague idea what I’m doing. I help my sister with her baby all the time.”

            “You’ll phone me if anything happens, won’t you?”

            He rolled his eyes teasingly. “Yes, Jada. Now if you don’t hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

            “All right, all right,” she sighed, crouching down to where Emily was playing on the floor. She scooped her daughter up into her arms, planting a kiss in her soft curls. “See you tomorrow, baby. I’ll miss you.”

            Emily gave a little squeal, flashing her a cheeky grin as Jada put her back onto the floor and turned to address Jim again. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Phone me if you need anything.”

            “Stop worrying!” Jim laughed, stepping around Emily to push Jada towards the door. “You’re supposed to have fun. Everything here is under control.”

            “See you tomorrow, Izzy!” Jada called up the stairs as they reached the hallway, hoping her other housemate could hear her.

            Her fears proved unfounded, however, when Izzy's face appeared out of her bedroom doorway. “Have fun!” she called back, waving. “I expect some exciting stories when you return!”

            Jada was unsure what kind of exciting adventures Izzy expected her to have at Ubi’s New Year’s party, but she nodded anyway, turning and heading out into the cold December evening. The last December evening, she realised with a nostalgic twinge as she climbed into her car. The last evening of 2015.

            She reversed out of the driveway, pausing only to hit the start button on her Satnav before she set off. It had been five months since she’d last seen Ubi, when he’d moved out of his student accommodation in the summer and got himself a new place with a friend. The drive would take her forty-five minutes, her Satnav informed her, so she had planned to stay overnight and come home the next morning. However, it would be the longest time she’d spent away from Emily since bringing her home from the hospital eight months ago, and Jada only hoped she could last the night.

            The house was not what Jada had been expecting for a third-year university student with no job. It looked as though it had been built in the Victorian era, with great bay windows and a small wooden porch, and was nestled on the edge of a country park. Despite having donned her best outfit—a red bodycon dress complete with heels she’d not seen for so long she’d had to clear the dust off them—she couldn’t help but feel massively underdressed for such an elegant setting.

            She was soon reassured, however, by the sight of Ubi, who opened the front door wearing a fairly smart-casual shirt and skinny jeans as she was locking her car.

            “Jesus Christ, Ubi,” she began as she made her way onto the porch. “Who’d you have to kill to end up in a place like this?”

            Ubi grinned, taking her coat as she stepped inside. “Nothing to do with me. Morgo’s the one who deals with all the shady stuff. I just stand to the side and look innocent.”

            “Innocent? You?” Jada laughed. “You’re not that good an actor.”

            His smile widened. “Maybe that’s just what I want you to think.” He gestured for her to follow him into the living room, which was full of incredible antique-looking furniture to match the house’s grand exterior.

            “Fucking hell, Ubi, is your friend loaded?” she gaped, but he only chuckled. “What the hell did you have to do for him to let you stay here?”

            “Oh, you know, just the usual. Gotta help him reap the souls of the chosen, etcetera,” Ubi joked, causing Jada to smack him lightly on the arm. “You’re actually here early for once. Morgo’s gone out to get some extra drinks, so guess who gets to help me set up?”

            “Aren’t I lucky?” she replied sarcastically.

            Before long, other people had started to arrive, some of whom Jada recognised from her brief time at university, though most of them she had never seen before. The official start to the party was signalled by the music beginning to play, and soon drinks were being handed round as darkness began to fall.

            It was around midnight when Jada stumbled into the kitchen, drink in hand, to find Ubi leaning against the counter and discussing something in a hushed voice with another man. The two of them looked up as she entered.

            “Jada, come over here,” Ubi called, gesturing to her. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

            Jada did as she was told. “All right, but you better not be trying to set me up with anybody. I swear, I’ve had enough of that from Izzy.”

            Ubi laughed, shaking his head, while the stranger gave a small smile of amusement.

            “No, no, it’s nothing like that,” Ubi assured her. “I just wanted to introduce you to Morgo. Morgo, this is Jada Thorburn.”

            He gestured between them, and the man named Morgo offered his hand.

            “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Ubi has told me so much about you already.”

            Jada snorted. “Nothing bad, I hope?”

            Morgo had an unusual air about him. He regarded her with an unreadable expression, though she couldn’t help but feel slightly unsettled as his eyes appeared to almost look through her. They were partly obscured by his unruly hair, which fell in brown curls across them so that she was only able to see them when he wished her to. He seemed to belong perfectly in the surroundings of such an old and obscure house, but looked positively out of place amongst the people within the current setting. Even his clothes looked wrong; his too-large shirt and rolled up jeans looked as though they must have been borrowed off somebody else.

            “You were in his drama class, yes? A budding actress?”

            Jada nodded. “Had to drop out last year, though.”

            “Oh really? May I ask why?”

            “Had a baby,” she replied, shrugging. “She was premature, so it just seemed easier to quit and focus on her at the time.”

            “A shame,” Morgo shook his head. “I imagine her father is looking after her now?”

            “Nah, my mate is. We live together, so he helps me out when I need it.”

            “Ah, I see.” Morgo nodded thoughtfully, and Jada began to wonder just how much information he was gleaning from her.

            From the living room, one of the guests could be heard shouting above the music. “Ten minutes ‘til midnight!”

            “I’m going back in there,” Ubi announced, swigging the last of his drink before picking up another. “Anybody coming?”

            “Nah,” Jada responded, while Morgo just shook his head. “I’ll be in in a bit though.”

            “All right, see you later, then,” Ubi bid them farewell, before heading back into the party.

            Morgo took a sip of his drink, wrinkling his nose at the taste. “I have a favour to ask of you,” he said after regaining his composure.

            Jada frowned. “What kind of favour?”

            “I need you to trust me.”

            Her frowned deepened, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “No offense, but that seems kind of a shifty thing to say.”

            He chuckled, almost taking another sip from his can before he pulled it away from his lips hastily. “You’re staying here until tomorrow, correct?”

            Jada was starting to wonder if that was such a good idea. “…Yeah?”

            “Good, I will be able to explain more then.” He gave her a broad smile. “For now you should just enjoy the party, I suppose.”

            Now it was Jada’s turn to drink, though she continued to frown at him over the top of the glass. “You’re a bit odd, you, aren’t you?”

            Again, Morgo chuckled. “I imagine so. Ubi seems to believe so, at any rate.”

            “You sure you can’t tell me whatever this ‘favour’ is now?”

            He sighed, waving his hand vaguely. “It would take too long, too many people around.”

            She nodded in neither agreement or approval, screwing her mouth up. “Right. Well, I’m gonna go back in there now. See you some other time.”

            “Of course,” Morgo nodded, though there was a small smile playing on his lips. “Some other time.”

            She made her way back into the living room, re-joining Ubi as the image of Big Ben on the laptop screen began to count down. Why neither Ubi nor Morgo had invested in a TV for the place she couldn’t understand, but that thought was soon pushed aside as the clock began to chime. Suddenly, the sky exploded in a burst of colour, the lights on the London Eye mimicking the fireworks in their own colourful sequence as 2016 burst onto the screen. Jada wished that one day she could see the show in person, perhaps when Emily was bigger and could appreciate it properly.

            She’d had to watch last year’s countdown from her hospital room, keeping her headphones turned low so that it wouldn’t startle Emily. They’d been able to hear it even without the headphones, though, through the window, and Jada could still remember the flashes of colour dancing across the incubator where her one-day-old daughter lay. She’d been so sensitive to loud noises back then; she’d opened her little mouth to croak a protest, though there’d been no cry. She was too little to cry, the nurses had said.

            Jada found herself crying now, watching the fireworks flash onscreen and reflecting on just how much her life had changed in the past year. When Ubi spotted her across the small crowd huddled round his laptop, his face grew concerned, at first. But after she’d explained her very legitimate reasons to him, he’d only shook his head with a smile and decided it was probably time she went to bed.

            The rest of the guests were just beginning to disband as she settled into the spare room, all thoughts of the party already leaving her as she fell into unconsciousness.

            When morning came, complete with a chorus of birdsong and sunlight filtering through the curtains and falling across her face, Jada wished it would piss off. She squinted at the traitorous gap in the fabric, before hauling the covers over her head with a groan. It had been so long since she last got the chance to go out, she’d almost forgotten hangovers existed.

            Eventually, she’d managed to pluck up the courage to face the infernal sun, changing into her spare clothes before heading downstairs to see what the breakfast situation looked like in The Manor.

            She wouldn’t have been surprised to find a professional cook slaving away in the kitchen, but instead she was greeted by Ubi’s ever-cheerful grin as he scrambled some eggs, while Morgo seemed thoroughly invested in the newspaper he held before him.

            “Morning,” Ubi greeted her, prompting Morgo to look up and give her a nod. “How d’you like your eggs?”

            She returned Morgo’s nod with a small smile, before replying. “Uh, scrambled, I guess.”

            “You were right,” Ubi grinned, turning to Morgo and depositing the eggs onto his plate.

            Morgo simply raised his eyebrows at his housemate, before returning his gaze to the paper. “Of course.”

            Jada stretched, sitting opposite Morgo at their small wooden table and rubbing her forehead.

            “Ubi, will you get the remedy I prepared from the cupboard above the sink, please?” Morgo requested, still not looking up.

            Ubi did as he was asked, handing a small black vial to his friend, who in turn held it out for Jada.

            “Take that. It’ll stop the pounding in your head.”

            Jada thanked him, taking the vial and popping the cork out of it. Immediately she was hit with the smell, which she could only guess was the scent of some kind of offal. “Ugh, what is it?”

            “Just a few herbs, really. I’d say it won’t taste as bad as it smells, but…” She thought he smirked, “Probably best to down it in one.”

            She glanced to Ubi, who gave her a reassuring smile. After sighing in resignation, she tilted her head back, trying not to think about the horrific sludge that was passing over her tongue. She spluttered when she finished, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

            “I hope those eggs are nearly done,” she croaked.

            She’d earnt a smile from Morgo, while Ubi chuckled, turning back to his pan. “Just a minute.”

            Morgo’s gaze remained on her, and after a moment he folded his paper up and set it down, intertwining his hands over it. “What time do you expect to be back home, then?”

            “I told Jim I’d be back as soon as I could,” she replied. “Didn’t want to be away too long.”

            “Of course. And are you planning to drive yourself?”

            She nodded. “’Soon as I can.”

            Morgo turned to glance at Ubi, who seemed to be watching them out of the corner of his eye. “Well I’m glad you gave no solid timeframe. That will make things much easier for us, I imagine.”

            Jada frowned, her headache worsening. “You what?”

            Morgo was back to leaning on the table again, his gaze becoming intense. “You’re adopted.”

            Jada snorted at the absurdity of the comment. “You know, I’m really glad you felt the need to tell me that. I’d have had no idea otherwise,” she retorted sarcastically. She caught Ubi’s smirk, though Morgo seemed unamused, so she added, “D’you think I don’t know that?”

            “Did you never wonder who your parents were?”

            “No.”

            The two seemed surprised at her answer.

            “Why not?” Morgo asked.

            She shrugged. “They didn’t want me; why should I waste a single thought on them? Life doesn’t really work like in the films, you know.”

            Morgo’s expression softened. “Your mother did want you. She cared about you very much.”

            She felt her eyebrows raise in challenge. “And you would know?”

            His eyes dropped, his fingernail beginning to scratch at the paper underneath his hands. “I didn’t know her very well. Not at all, really. I only met her once, in passing. The day I saved your life.”

            Jada scoffed again. “You what?”

            Morgo’s eyes returned to her face, his words suddenly coming very fast. “Your mother was killed in a fire. She was staying in an inn in the capital, and you were with her. We were trying to keep an eye on things, to make sure everything was all right. When I saw the blaze I knew I had to go in, that I had to do something. It was too late for your mother, and I’m sorry for that, but then I found you. She’d doused your crib in water, it seemed, which gave me just enough time to get you out. Naturally, I couldn’t keep you here with us, though Ubi tried to argue with me. So we found a nice orphanage for you-”

            “Orphanage?” she interrupted. “What is this, the Victorian era? It’s called an adoption centre.”

            “My apologies-”

            “And what am I, anyway? Fucking Harry Potter? My parents were killed, but you managed to save me in the nick of time? Yeah right, and the next one.”

            Wearing a quizzical expression, Morgo turned to Ubi, who shrugged. “She doesn’t believe you, basically. I told you it would have been easier to keep her with us.”

            “I can’t believe you’re buying into this shit, too,” Jada scowled. “Is this some sort of stupid joke?”

            “No, no,” Morgo said. “I promise you I’m completely serious. I saved your life, gave you to the authorities in this world to be properly adopted, and then Ubi’s been keeping an eye on you recently, until now.”

            “'In this world'?” she repeated. "What are you actually fucking talking about?"

            Morgo sighed in exasperation, rubbing his brows. “You were born in Albion, which is in a separate world to this one. Now, if you’d just co-operate, we’d get through this much faster and then you can go on your merry way.”

            Jada crossed her arms, still scowling, but said nothing.

            “Very good. Now, since I saved your life, you could say you owe me a favour.” Jada wasn't sure she agreed, but Morgo was looking at her expectantly, seemingly waiting for her retort. When none came, he sighed again. “What do you know of the Arthurian legends?”

            A moment passed, before he gave a sound of frustration. “You can talk now.”

            “I did a few projects on them in high school,” she replied with a bitter shrug. “But I don’t see what this has to do with anything.”

            “Well you wouldn’t, would you?” Morgo retorted.

            Ubi snickered, causing the two of them to look back over towards him, still scrambling some more eggs.

            Morgo turned back to her first. “How did they end, the legends?”

            Jada sighed. “Arthur’s killed by Mordred, at the Battle of Camlann.”

            “Not killed, mortally wounded,” Morgo corrected.

            “Fine. Arthur is mortally wounded by Mordred at the Battle of Camlann. Because the distinction is so important.”

            “It is,” Morgo countered. “‘Mortally wounded’ implies that Arthur was not yet dead when he was taken to Avalon.”

            “So?”

            “So, I need you to make sure he doesn’t die.”

            What little patience of Jada’s remained now vanished. “And how the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

            “You need to find a way to heal him. Luckily for you, I know just the right way. But you’ll have to use magic, of course.”

            “Magic? You realise that all of this makes absolutely no sense, right?” She turned to Ubi for help. “Is he on something?”

            “Nope,” Ubi replied. “Magic is real. You might not have realised, but you come from a long line of magic users, dating back for more than four hundred years.”

            Jada changed her focus. “Are you on something?”

            He grinned. “Nope. I’m surprised you haven’t noticed anything yet.”

            “She’d have had no need to,” Morgo interjected, calling Jada’s attention back to him. “But now you do. I’m sending you to study under Merlin. You’ll learn the basics of magic there, but after that you’ll have to move on to a more difficult school of study.”

            Jada laughed. “Oh yeah? And will I be going to Atlantis for dinner, as well?”

            Morgo seemed unamused, so she changed her tone as she rose from the table. “Look, I don’t know what the hell you’re on about, but I am not going to Camelot to learn how to use magic to save a fictional king, all right? Sorry to disappoint, but I’m busy.”

            She turned on her heel, ready to head out the door, pick up her keys, and never return to this house again. Behind her she heard Morgo rise, his chair scraping against the tiles.

            “Morgo, we can’t make her,” Ubi said. “If she doesn’t want to, there’s nothing we can do.”

            She was in the hallway now, about to retrieve her coat from the rack that Ubi had hung it on as the kitchen door behind her swung open again. She was grateful she’d thought to move her bag with the rest of her belongings by the door already. A smooth escape would have been so much more difficult otherwise.

            She bent to pick it up, purposely paying no heed to the figure behind her as she did so, until he said something that she did not expect.

            “Swefe nu.”

            Before Jada could turn to even frown at him, she felt her legs buckle beneath her as the floor rushed to meet her. The last thing she heard before unconsciousness took her was Ubi’s voice of indignation:

            “Morgo!”

Chapter 2 ->

[piningpercussionist]

(ooc)

I want you all to know that if I had the energy for it. There are so many posts stored in my drafts I long to queue... but neglected to preemptively tag, despite knowing I am Like This....

Anyway, there is a slight chance the queue might run out tomorrow unless I can get more responses in there-- I am,, tired,,

[neo-shitty]

spring day never latches on to a permanent face. it takes the form of the people i miss whom i have no way of reconnecting with. ever since i read that message in my inbox, it has taken the form of you, kesya.