#jneph writes

[morgsdrew]

blog warning for triggering content !!

beware of mention of death, eating disorder, drugs, murder, grooming, abuse, depression, suicide, and more related things.

morgan drew / carnival created by @jnephrite .

BRIEF CHARACTER SUMMARY — harley & ivy’s adopted kid . parents murdered by the joker in front of her did serious damage to morgan .

after the incident , she got some weird abilities (fourth wall breaking) she couldn’t explain and practically made harley quinn to take her in and help her get back to the joker .

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW / INTERACT — i won’t do novella roleplay on my carnival account i will on this account. morgan’s lore will follow her original lore in JACEVERSE but with the mix of my interactions here (so technically, she’s still in jaceverse but with a little tiny changes).

main ship is superboy (kon- el) / conner kent but is open to other ships (like oc x oc). currently in a relationship with @conner-kent-central

don’t also refer to her as carnival @shecarnionmyval since the account is for MORGAN DREW (civilian identity) .

MORE UNDER THE CUT.

JACEVERSE (CANON IN JACEVERSE):

@dr-harleen-official (harley quinn, mom/mentor),, @conner-kent-central / @souperboi (kon-el, boyfriend),, @solaninne (ani karadeniz, ex gf/bff),, @cottoncandysuckerpunch ncandysuckerpunch (cori, bff),, @nathangivre (nathan givré, teammate/ex situationship),, @pewpewtodd (jason todd, childhood friend/brother figure),, @vicenovirtues es (vice elroy, brother figure),, @th3edenc1ub (annoyance, dad figure),, @stephsinaya (she hates her),, !!

BBFS (CONNECTIONS IN TUMBLR RP):

@dr-pamela-isley (mom/mentor),, @jacynkaplanbrake (love interest/ex-bf/baby daddy),, @vvultur3 (friend),, @ladylightningrod (mentor),, @th3edenc1ub (dad figure),, @drakes-robin (close friends since 13/occasional ally),, @oscine-bird (childhood friend),, @alisinwndrlnd (older sister figure),, @alessia-knox (schoolmate/friend),, @docjulocke (therapist),, @speedylight-years (ally),, @spirk-lover-93 (mother in law… sort of),, !!

FILES (LINKS):

CARRD,, LORE DOCS,, !!

MORON FIRST KISS / FINDING OUT ABOUT JACYN,, THE BREAK UP,, MORON NEW YEAR’S KISS,, IT’S A BOY,, THE REVEAL,, MADE UP !!

[jnephrite]

memories bring back, memories bring back you.

(memories by maroon five) — warning: none.

She was never a quiet person. 

At least, that’s what we know of her but she doesn’t know that. 

Delphi was taught and trained until she couldn't breathe to remain and move quietly unless they asked otherwise. Delphi never talked as much as she used to. But she never knew that. All she knew was that all her life she wasn’t loud.

Morgan, however, was never a quiet person. Even for a thief. She was loud and performative. She loved it when eyes were on her. 

Now, Delphi was quiet. It felt familiar to climb up a building, breaking a lock of a window. Breaking in a house wasn’t taught— Delphi was taught to assassinate outside to instill fear in others— so breaking in this place was too easy. Like she was born to do so.

It wasn’t even hard to break free of the Cave’s hold.

Now she found herself standing in a room that was filled with teenage paraphernalias and plants, the only light in the room was coming from outside, peeking through the small crack of the ajar door. She wasn’t even supposed to be here, she was going against orders.

It’s okay, they won’t know, we told Delphi.

We’ve kept this secret from her for so long. Afraid that we’d lose our control over her as a vessel if we tell. Some of us didn’t agree, so the rest of us drowned those voices away. But some things are never meant to be contained for so long.

Delphi heard those voices. We had no choice but to tell who he was. Where he was.

Now Delphi stood in the middle of Morgan Drew’s old room. A typical teenage girl’s room. 

But in the middle was a crib. A crib. Look, we pushed. Delphi tilted her head to the side and stared for a moment. Not talking. Not entirely looking. There were voices outside though. Harley’s. Ivy’s. Delphi lifted her feet, not making a sound and closing the door fully.

It was dark but we could see. Which means she could.

Delphi walked towards the crib and there he was. A baby. Frowning in his sleep like he was thinking of something unpleasant. We cooed. It’s been so long since we’ve seen him.

We waited for a response from Delphi. Her breath hitched. For a moment we felt Morgan.

Delphi reached for her wraps around her eyes, revealing the familiar orange and blue. She let it fall on the wooden ground and stared at the sleeping baby.

Morgan reached for him. Delphi hesitated before she let herself go. We didn’t even need to control her. We shouldn’t control her. We like the power it gives but we aren’t monsters— yes, we are— no, we aren’t.

She touched the forehead, rubbing her finger on the crease, soothing away the frown on the baby’s face. “Liva,” Delphi said. There was a part of us that cheered— Morgan must have remembered, right?

We wished it was simple. But Morgan would never call Lee by his full name.

Delphi retracted her hand back when Lee opened his eyes. He didn’t cry. He stared and gave her a gummy smile and babbled. We went quiet inside her head once more. Lee remembered his mother.

Delphi gasped. She must’ve loved the silence. She couldn’t even get that in the Cave where she needed to be isolated. 

“Oh,” she mumbled, caressing Lee’s chubby cheeks again before her eyes darkened.

Oh, we repeated. She remembered. Delphi looked to the side. A picture of the clown with dart marks was on the wall. She pulled back from Lee and she clutched the edge of the crib. Delphi remembered that her purpose wasn’t to serve The Syndicate. 

It was never about The Syndicate.

It was revenge on this man.

She always had the itch to kill that could never be satisfy despite the amount of people she had assassinated for The Syndicate. Delphi remembered why it never disappeared. 

She had been killing the wrong person. And Lee just reminded her that.

It’s not an order from The Syndicate, we warned.

Kill him, Mags— who is Mags?— we said.

“Keep you safe,” she murmured, voice still raspy from the lack of talking especially in English, leaning down to kiss Lee’s forehead. No, she doesn’t remember. But Delphi felt like it was the right thing to do. “Where is he?”

Arkham, we replied in an instant. Dead— The Joker— Don’t do it, The Syndicate will be not pleased— kill him— he’s dead— no— Mags— she’s not Mags—

Lee made a sound of protest, a whine coming out of his throat when he saw his mother pull away. Delphi doesn’t waver. Our voices drowned away the noises Lee made in his crib— he knew she was leaving. It’s not like we could stop her anyway. 

Delphi was trained to be quiet but she was also trained to be ruthless, one that never stops until her mission is fulfilled. And with the recent flickering memories in the head of hers, Delphi never had the urge this strong to kill someone before.

[morgsdrew]

last night, we planned a ball / you never showed up at all / i feel a brand new heartache coming on.

(brand new heartache by the everly brothers) — notes: baby talk + i took advantage of conner mun’s hiatus to make angst soooo not my fault /j

Morgan sat on the wooden porch of the Kent farmhouse, watching some people walk by, listening to the animals in the barn, or the chirping from the birds that flew by. She held her phone tightly as her leg bounced in anticipation.

She subconsciously traced shapes on her belly as if it was a way for her to calm her nerves as she stared straight ahead— hoping to see Conner’s truck come to view down the gravel driveway.

She had been in Smallville for weeks now. And it had been the most peace she’d been at ever since she was thirteen. Until today though.

It was 1:15 pm. The second trimester ultrasound appointment is at 2 pm. But she had been waiting outside since after lunch. She was never patient. But for him she was willing to be. ( Or is this just the fear of losing someone again? )

Swiping her phone open, checking at the messages. Or the lack thereof. Last message was her reminding him of her second ultrasound appointment— and her first appointment in Kansas— but it was left on delivered.

“Come on, pretty boy,” she grumbled. She looked away from her phone for a moment then looked back, like that would somehow, magically make Conner text her back.

She heard the door open behind her, Morgan wrapped Conner’s flannel— one she definitely didn’t steal this time— around her more as she glanced through her shoulder to see Martha peeking out.

“You should get inside, honey, it’s getting chilly out there,” she said softly.

Morgan didn’t reply immediately. She had a feeling— or at least Chat has a feeling— that Martha knew where Conner was. But of course, she didn’t ask. She didn’t push. It was up to them to tell her anyway. She was just thankful for how nice Martha and Jonathan were to her.

“It’s okay, I’ll wait a little longer here,” Morgan whispered.

You’re being stupid Mags— no, she is learning to wait. This is good— he is gonna stand her up— did he not do that before?-- Oh like when he didn’t attend her ballet reci— GUYS! Let’s not—

“At least put on another jacket,” Conner’s mother said, handing Morgan her own thick jacket. Morgan took it without a protest and slipped it on. “He’ll come, dear.”

She noticed the hesitation in Martha’s voice.

When Martha returned back inside, Morgan whispered, “I hope he does.”

By 1:45 pm, Morgan stood up, feeling stupid. She couldn’t wait any longer.

When will she learn that believing promises would just leave her heartbroken? She went back inside and asked Martha for directions to the clinic, rejecting the old woman’s offer to drive her there.

You need to learn how to accept help— I did. But it ended up with me being stood up, Morgan shot back to the taunting voices in her head. Morgan was never the type to hope, really. But she thought… with how good Conner was to her, he’d be different. “You knew better,” she chided herself.

Morgan told herself that she was disappointed and angry because Smallville is new to her and she doesn’t— she wasn’t so sure where to go and she relied too much on Conner to guide her. Not because Conner had left her alone to deal with this despite saying he’d be there.

***

It's not that Morgan hates hospitals. But ever since she woke up from her deep sleep in a white, sterile, and somber room with the strong smell of alcohol, she had been uneasy in spaces like these. And last time she was in a clinic, she at least had Jacyn with her. Jacyn will never stood you up— omg move on– just saying— and Conner would nev— okay, GUYS quiet!--

Now she’s alone as she laid there, shivering at the cool gel on her belly under the bright fluorescent lights. The voices quiet down when the technician showed her child through the screen. He was already bigger than she last saw him.

Her heart swelled. Morgan thinks he’s beautiful and she loves him already.

“—its a boy! Congratulations!” Morgan heard the doctor say when she tuned back in. Tears pricked her eyes, not sure if it was because this was feeling more real and real or because she couldn’t help but think how alone— with no hand to hold onto this time— she was in this moment despite how beautiful it was.

And she already knew the gender long ago— Our fault— our bad— whoopsie!— woaaaaah look!— and she was looking forward to seeing his reaction instead. She tried blinked the tears away before they could fall, she had gone through so much and this isn’t something she should cry about. But a stray tear managed to escape— tears of joy, she decided to call it instead.

It was over quickly, Morgan found herself standing by the exit of the clinic, staring at the sonogram in her hands with trembling hands, in a call with her Harley and Ivy who was back in Gotham.

She doesn’t need anyone and she was stupid for being terrified of going on her own when she knew she was capable of handling this. She had always handled things on her own. And maybe she shouldn’t be angry with him. This isn’t his responsibility to prioritise.

He still should've said a heads up— maybe he’s out being a SUPER— girl wha—

Morgan just hoped Conner had a good explanation as she stepped out of the clinic, heart heavy.

tag list: @vicenovirtues @thelivingbed @raphyo @loudmakercollective @conner-kent-central

[morgsdrew]

smallest man who ever lived — morcyn lyrics break down.

note: i was listened to ttpd & the bridge of this song reminds me of @jacynkaplanbrake and @morgsdrew !!

i literally wrote this on discord so it’s messy !!

And I don't even want you back, I just want to know / If rusting my sparkling summer was the goal / And I don't miss what we had, but could someone give / A message to the smallest man who ever lived?

i added this part because of and i don’t even want you back i just want to know / and i don’t miss what we had part especially rn with morgan who maybe still struggles to let go not because she still wants him but because there are still lingering questions left unanswered on why the fell apart… and like considering jacyn’s actions post break up or even pre break up, she wondered if any of it was real

Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? / Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?

referring to jacyn being jester who was under the wing of the joker for a brief moment. the joker who most likely wants morgan dead and vice versa. and like … these two could hurt each other physically bc of their alter egos…. crazy….

I would've died for your sins / Instead, I just died inside

morgan who doesn’t care about his crimes because she’d be a hypocrite to hate him for it. she’d be with him regardless what happens (WELL obviously excluding SOME crimes…….) but yeah the instead i just died inside part works well too because morgan always claims she had given him multiple chances to jo avail and she’s TIRED

And you deserve prison, but you won't get time / You'll slide into inboxes and slip through the bars

atp with jacyn’s crimes… if he wasn’t a minor, he might just deserve prison LMAO… morgan being aware of this…..

You crashed my party and your rental car / You said normal girls were boring

okay i interpret this as jacyn crashing into her life and ruining it in some way and normal girls were boring referencing how they would always say they match each other’s freaks smh

You kicked out the stage lights / But you're still performing

pretending it says i kicked out the stage lights but you’re still performing as a reference to their break up: morgan initiates break up but he’s still kinda there in her point of view? ORRR based on the meaning in the song, stage lights as in morgan giving all her love and attention to him and jacyn kicking them means he pushed it away intentionally or unintentionally and took her for granted

And in plain sight you hid / But you are what you did / And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive / The smallest man who ever lived

and in plain sight you hid could be morgan refusing to see the signs / his bad actions even though it was OBVIOUS. actions tell you who you TRULY are !! morgan talking about his constant mistakes !! and like she always says to herself she might never forgive him for what he did

THERE COULD BE MORE BUT YES. this for now…

[morgsdrew]

i’d take that bomb in your head and disarm it / believe in one thing, i won’t go away

(forever winter by taylor swift. a character study) — warning: overdose & suicide attempt.

The first thing she heard was beeping sounds. It was constantly repeating, pulling her out of her unconsciousness. It was quiet aside from the heart monitor and Morgan forgot what it felt like to have your mind clear and silent.

It was nice—

But as soon as she took note of that, she heard Chat again, slowly getting louder as if they were getting pulled back to her again.

She stirred. Her whole body felt heavy but Morgan forced her eyes to open, wincing and squinting at the fluorescent lighting that she knew she didn’t have in her bedroom. Morgan opened her mouth to speak but the feeling of being disoriented and her mouth feeling dry made her pause.

She blinked a couple of times, eyes seeing unfamiliar white walls instead of pink and her fingers twitched against the white sheets that felt less soft than her blanket. What happened—what did she do?

A faint memory of what she did lingered in her mind. Her eyes closed again, a groan escaping her lips. Fuck.

This was her first time experiencing this and she ... really wasn't having a good time. Chat excitedly chattering again wasn't helping at all. But she did catch one name in the midst of their non-stop talking. Conner?

Morgan blinked again until she could hold her eyes open to stare at the blank wall in front of her. She remembered what she was feeling before downing everything the bottle contained and falling asleep, deeply.

Loneliness.

She had always hated being left alone. Being alone keeps them too loud, it was all she could hear. And the fact that she couldn’t walk when she was alone, couldn’t climb up buildings, couldn’t be Carnival—her only form of escape—was the final push.

She was alone. And she felt trapped, it was so hard to breathe. And empty and heavy, like gravity forcing her down. Everything was slipping away from her hands. She wished she can control everything like Fish seemed to be good at.

And she threw away the prescription that was supposed to help her. They barely did anyway.

Her sleeping pills were just there for nights her nightmares got too rough. That night, it stopped working for her. Without thinking clearly—always acting so impulsively—she took another, then two more, next thing she knew, her eyes closed with nothing left in the bottle.

She wished she could say that she did it with the intention to make those people who care for her to be scared. To seem like she was in control. Being seen as a manipulator was better than being seen as weak.

Morgan doesn’t want to die. She just wanted her mind to rest and her heart to feel full again. Morgan should’ve known something wasn’t right when Chat had gone silent.

She turned her head to the side, looking at the monitor and at the IV attached on her arm and Morgan itched to take it off.

Chat’s loud again. Because even in this hospital room, she was still alone. And Morgan hated herself for hoping she was never saved.

[morgsdrew]

DEATH DOESN’T DISCRIMINATE, BETWEEN THE SINNERS AND THE SAINTS, IT TAKES AND IT TAKES AND IT TAKES.

(Wait For It, Hamilton) — warning: descriptive murder & violence, and multiple mention of death.

13 is the number of death. The unlucky number.

Coincidentally, Morgan’s luck began to diminish as death began to loom over her at the age 13. But she was never the target. Death seemed to enjoy seeing a child witness direct or indirect deaths of her loved ones, snapping his fingers and taking their breaths away before her.

First was her nanay and táta. It was brutal, they died on a friday when she was 13. She was only 13, a 13-year-old shouldn’t be seeing so much blood. A 13-year old should be worrying about her first day of high school, not sitting between her parents, her new shoes soaked in their blood.

The same year, her friend died. She was in the orphanage, watching the news. He saw his face— his hair that was once red like hers was dyed black, but it was Jason’s face regardless— on the screen; Billionaire Philanthropist’s adopted son, dead. She was only 13 and she already felt so alone.

Everyone’s gone but Death himself.

13 is the number of death. It must be her number.

Because she was 13 when she snapped back to reality up blood in her hands. 

Morgan began to hyperventilate, the blue knife clattering on the ground— where did that come from?— as she stared at the body before her.

“Morgan!” she heard a voice called out but it was drowned by the multiple whispers in her head— she doesn’t understand it, they’re talking a lot, all over each other— and the fact that her hands were red and wet.

She wished she didn't remember. But she remembered it clearly.  

It was one of Fish Mooney’s goons, cornering her and Harley by some alley, demanding for the heirloom Fish was after.

Morgan survived purely by instinct and Harley’s huge hammer. She wasn’t sure what was going on, Chat— the whispers, the eyes, you, the reader—wanted her to fight and help Harley. But then one of the goons had slipped Harley and Morgan was cornered. The guy loomed over her— like how Death does, like how the clown did—

FIGHT—FIGHT—FIGHT—FIGHT BACK— The voices were loud, for the first time, they all agreed on something.

This man works for Fish Mooney, he wasn’t probably above harming a child. Morgan acted on impulse when he got too close, fear in her veins and Morgan rarely feels afraid nowadays. When he grabbed her arm, the guy’s face changed until his lips were red, his skin was bleached, his hair was green…

Morgan began to hyperventilate. It was him. Here. Again. Before the clown could do anything, Morgan wordlessly raised her arm, gripping her knife— wait, where did that come from?— and slit his throat.

When she saw red, Chat stopped. Morgan was surprised by the silence so Morgan didn’t stop. As the clown stumbled back, choking on his own blood, she lunged and plunged her blade into his skin. Not once. Not twice. All her anger was released with every push of the knife and it…

It felt freeing. To end him. Because that meant she’d be freeing the people he had killed too.

Chat quieted down. Is this how to make it stop talking? (Is this why she does this again? Is this why she takes and she takes and she takes?)

Until with a blink of her eyes, the clown wasn’t the one bleeding on the alley floor. 

And Morgan staggered backwards. She was only 13 when she caused a man to bleed out. Her eyes widened in fear of what she just did, she let out a strangled gasp, the knife clattering on the ground.

As she stood there, Morgan realised there was no guilt pooling in her stomach. No, it was more of a... 

“Morgan!” she heard Harley call out to her again.

… Disappointment.

Chat returned to her head. Ecstatic, amazed, terrified, and worried. And Morgan was disappointed because it was just a guy, it wasn’t him. The clown was still alive out there, Morgan didn’t kill him. She no longer felt free.

“Morga— oh my god,” Harley said. Morgan turned to her with an unreadable expression. “Oh god, did you—“ she shook her head and approached the redhead, concerned etched on her face. “Morgan, are you okay? What happe—“

She was only 13. A 13-year-old like her should be worrying about her upcoming recital, not thinking about how annoyed she was that it wasn’t the Joker that was on the floor, that it wasn’t the Joker’s blood in her hands.

Death no longer loomed over, no longer making her witness his powers. No, Death took her hands, guided her at age 13, and had her do his work for him.

[morgsdrew]

ÓNEIRA GLYKÁ / όνειρα γλυκά

(sweet dreams) — warning: violence.

Everyone dreams.

And Morgan Drew wasn’t an exception to this.

She could never be an exception to this. Morgan doesn’t just dream, she gets nightmares. Every Time her eyes closed, darkness would engulf her briefly but then her vision would contort into her fears, her past, her possible future.

It’s either she wakes up with a gasp or she wakes up crying, sitting upright on her bed, limbs tangled up in her sheets.

No matter who she’s with as she sleeps— her boyfriend, her mothers, Lucy, even her baby hyena— Morgan’s could never be peaceful.

In those dreams, she sees him. The man in the purple suit and bright green hair. His laughter rang in her ears alongside the whispers of her audience even if she was unconscious.

She hated his smile. It was too wide. Too red. And in her dreams, he was smiling as the knife plunged down and pierced through her parents’ skin. And Morgan felt like she was 13 again. It was gruesome but she couldn’t look away in the dream. Just like when she couldn’t look away when it happened to her.

She didn’t look away so he thought it would be funny if he pierced the knife through her eye.

But before the blade hits, Morgan was in his place.

She hated this part.

Morgan was in his place.

She was holding the knife. Her knife. It was blue and diamond shaped. Made just for her by the audience. It was blue until it wasn’t. It was red.

Like the blood on her hands.

Her hands were twitching as she stared down at her victims. They deserved it— you’re a killer just like him!— eh, they were annoying— I am hungry— they deserved it, they work for him— but maybe they needed the money; for their family?— that’s so sad— guys, I really am hungry— shut up! shut up! the audience chanted. Morgan could no longer figure out which thoughts were hers. Was she guilty? Did she like it?

She doesn’t hate it anymore.

She couldn’t control what happened next. Her grip on her knife would always tighten in the dream. She’d raise her hands, she’ll hear his laughters, her parents, Harley—

Before the knife hits, Morgan would always wake. Either with a gasp or screaming and crying. Depending on how visual it was.

But what was always constant was her thinking if she was still human after waking up.

[morgsdrew]

fuck

oh fuck i— oh gods— shit— can’t do this.

no i can’t have it. im— what was that?