#my mother was a superhero. and I was a fool

[naneki-maid]

I remember as a child my friend asked me once about my father, and I remember thinking to myself: Father? I never felt that I needed one, my family never felt incomplete. My mother filled every gap within me. For this reason, though there were not many to mention, I hated every man she brought home. What could they offer but heartache and wounds that would never heal? And indeed they always did.

[morallyinept]

Heyday Hero - A Valentine's Story - Mature!Marcus Moreno

This is a story set in the Heyday Hero Universe. You might wanna read that one first if you haven't already.

Summary: Marcus pulls out all the stops to make your first Valentine's Day together really super!

Pairing: Mature!Marcus Moreno x Mature/CurvyF!Reader (No name of reader. It’s you, bub. However Reader is of a similar age to Marcus, who I have made 52 in this story, and Reader is more on the curvier side in body type. Otherwise a blank slate. Images for aesthetic, no reference to Reader.)

Word Count: 7.2k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: Both Marcus & Reader have REAL bodies, and very real middle age spread/coming to terms with ageing & feeling obsolete.

Explicit: Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M & F receiving/fingering - Marcus has superpower hands⚡️/lots of kissing/schmaltzy romance/Marcus doesn't fuck, he makes love/all the flowers and pancake mush you can swallow/Marcus being the perfect, romantic fool

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine's Day, lovelies! 🥰 I just had to revisit these two love birds on this heart day. Love you all so much! 😘

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

HEYDAY HERO <- Main Story

Enjoy! 🖤

The early morning Austin sun casts a warm glow over Marcus's garden as he ambles among the clusters of vibrant blooms swaying gently in the Texan breeze. 

Clipping blush peonies with thoughtful precision, his mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Missy and you; the two women in his life showering him with more love in abundance than he could ever wish for. 

Fragrant petals whisper to him in the gentle flurry, carrying the promise of a special day he’s woken up to. A day that, for so long, had seemed so mundane - another day ending in a Y. So pointlessly lonely. Just ordinary in his solace without a partner to share the topical mushiness with, even if it was rife with capitalist sentiment sponsored by the fat cats at Hallmark. 

Lost in contemplation as he prunes and snips at stems, Marcus's thoughts are a blend of affection and giddy anticipation, and he can’t wait to see his daughter smile as she inhales in the perfumed fragrance of the florals he’s chosen just for her.

Despite the lack of a romantic partner since the passing of his wife and Missy's mother, his Valentine’s Days since were about showering Missy with love and appreciation, something that she initially resisted, stomping into her unruly teens and it being branded “uncool” to spend time with her father fussing over her as she was reaching maturity.

But he still upheld that tradition nonetheless.

Now a headstrong woman in her thirties, she could appreciate that effort and often sought it out willingly as she would snuggle in closer to him when watching a movie together after a hard day of fighting the world’s enemies and threats, and he would smile as she fell asleep snoring into the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and subsequently leaving a patch of drool on it.

But as much as the superhero father-daughter duo loved one another, Marcus missed the companionship of a partner he could shower with hopelessly romantic sentiment and love of a more intimate kind.

That was until he met you.  

Over the course of the last six months, yours and Marcus’s relationship has bloomed and flourished, much like his garden, evolving into a softly hedonistic timeline woven with shared experiences, laughter, and genuine affection. 

Despite the exciting journey you’re both on, you both carry unspoken anxieties that occasionally cast shadows on the picturesque canvas of your budding romance.

Your dates were a delightfully regular mix of adventures - whether exploring museums, cozying up at home with a homemade dinner and a classic movie, or exploring the wonderland of nature.

And Marcus still can’t get your first meeting out of his mind. The date that solidified it all for him.

He was mesmerised by you, and still is, fearing some days he’ll wake up and realise it’s all been some wondrous dream where he subconsciously created and crafted you from the moulds of his inert loneliness. 

He glances over to the sun loungers by the pool, and his cock pulls tight in his jeans, remembering the two of you sat in one together, listening to your words as you read from your book to him, only a few days ago as the sun set into a fiery orange sky.

He can smell the scent of your skin again now as the tepid heat warmed it as he had you in his arms, basking in the dying rays as he buried himself inside of you from behind. His nose running tracks against the back of your neck as his fingers drew circles on your clit, bringing you to soaring heights without ever leaving the ground.

With the book discarded to the patio, his big hands were resting and stroking on the crinkles of your tummy skin as he whispered how beautiful you are, nipping on your earlobe as the sky blushed above you, an expansive voyeur to your lovemaking.

The gentle, yet enthusiastic, pace of your relationship allows you to savour each moment, creating a foundation of tentative understanding and trust. Yet, as the seasons change, the passage of time invokes subtle insecurities that bleed in uninvited.

It’s human nature, he supposes. Marcus, a retired superhero, whose body had once effortlessly defied gravity, now finds himself grappling with the harsh realities of ageing. The occasional ache and stiffness serve as reminders of the physical toll his heroic past has taken on him.

You, too, are confronted with your own insecurities when you stand in front of the mirror, naked after a shower, and notice things aren't as supple or as perky as they used to be. The mirage of eternal youth begins to dissipate, sands falling in the glass, replaced by the acknowledgement of lines that trace the stories of your laughter, and the gradual changes of a sinking gravity that comes with the eventual movement of time.

As the months towards his retirement from the Heroics had unfolded, Marcus began to notice the subtle changes in his body - the creaky echoes of years spent in the pursuit of justice. The once effortless movements that defined his superhero heydays were now accompanied by a quiet reminder of the toll taken on his physical form. 

Morning stiffness became a familiar companion as Marcus greeted the dawn - a stiffness of a different, less exciting kind.

The pops in his joints were like a cacophony of irritating reminders, a natural clicking chorus that played out, despite him being an unwilling conductor, as he rose from his bed. Aches manifested in areas that once bore the brunt of intense physical exertion.

His shoulders, which had once easily carried the weight of the world, now bore the imprints of past struggles. Welted, faded scars of times when he came close to exchanging his life so others could live, adorned him. White, little lines of jagged lightning against the golden skin that you would run your fingers or tongue over, bringing about a sensual healing in the layers of his marred epidermis with your explorative and worshipping ministrations.  

On some days, Marcus found himself pausing to stretch, a conscious effort to ease the tightness that settled into his muscles. The warm-up routine, once a prelude to high-flying acrobatic adventures, now became a ritual to navigate the nuances of a body shaped by years of gritty heroism.

Yet, despite the stark, physical reminders of ageing, Marcus approached each day with resilience and a quiet acceptance. The aches were not signals of defeat but rather markers of a life well-lived, a testament to the now grey hero who had faced challenges head-on and emerged with stories of grandeur etched into the fabric of his being. 

Observant and empathetic, you stood by Marcus's side as he navigated these physical aches and pains on the mornings you woke up together.

Your gentle massages and understanding glances spoke volumes, creating a space where the vulnerabilities of ageing became threads that wove you both closer together. 

He thinks back to the way your hands glide over his body and soon distract him from the aches to another ache weighing heavy between his legs. The more pleasant vareity of morning stiffness.

His ears are soon filled with your gasps and moans as he zones out under the morning sun, thinking back to mornings waking with you wrapped around him as he slipped inside you and worked you both out. 

In that tranquil corner of the garden, surrounded by the coveted peace of nature, Marcus confronts the uncertainties, but the happiness he feels quells any of that self-doubt in an instance. 

The kitchen, the epicentre of Marcus’s world now, soon becomes a hub of activity as Marcus sets about creating a special morning feast on the day of San Valentín.

The aroma of homemade pancakes fills the air, mingling with the scents of freshly brewed coffee and tarte fruity berries. The vase of peonies adorns the table, adding a touch of colour to the special breakfast spread he’s prepared all morning with love and care.

As Missy enters the kitchen, hair damp and bedraggled, the mild surprise melting away the sleep in her battered eyes, Marcus can't help but beam.

"Happy Valentine's Day, kiddo," he says, presenting her with the hand-cut bouquet.

Missy's eyes light up with unbridled joy as she accepts the vase of flowers with a kiss on the side of his fuzzy face. "Dad, these are beautiful. Thank you."

“Only the best for my muñeca. Sit, I made you some breakfast.” (Doll.)

“You’re not having breakfast with your lovely lady?”

“We’re spending the rest of the day together. I've made plans.” His eyes light up as he says it, pouring out hot coffee.

"Sneaky." Missy smirks.

“This morning is just for you and me.”

“Makes a change not to see you two half-naked and draped all over each other. You know, these walls are paper thin.”

“Shut up.” Marcus says, evidently blushing. 

“I ought to file a complaint, I’m sure it violates some building code… loud noises.”

“Or you could just stay at your place?” He suggests with a grin.

“Pffft. That’ll never happen.”

In the days leading up to Missy and you meeting for the first time - which was inevitable really considering how often your paths had almost crossed with Missy using her key at any God given time of day - Marcus hadn’t been able to shake a lingering sense of angst. He found himself caught in the crossroads of two important relationships intermingling in his life, and the fear of you both not getting along tugged at the edges of his erratic thoughts. 

As he’d prepared the house for your official get-together, Marcus couldn't help but second guess his decision. What if you didn't hit it off? The worry gnawed at him, the uncertainty of your connection becoming a lead weight on his broad shoulders and making him feel somewhat nauseous at the prospect of facing a choice.

He tried to distract himself with preparations, arranging a small dinner, which soon became over the top due to the stress-cooking that ensued, and ensuring the atmosphere was comfortable. 

But every now and then, a wave of anxiety washed over him despite Missy reminding him that he was worrying over nothing. 

If she makes you this goofy, Dad, then I already love her… Missy'd remarked as he clattered about clumsily with pans. 

When the hour finally arrived, Marcus did his best to hide his apprehension despite his squally gut. As Missy and you exchanged greetings, he observed your interactions with a hopeful, yet anxious, heart.

The initial moments were filled with small talk, and Marcus found himself holding his breath, waiting for a sign that you were connecting, and shucking in deep breaths of oxygen when you subtly reminded him to breathe, observing him turn a shade of purple and giving his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

Of course, Marcus needn't have worried - Missy and you got on like a house on fire.

Laughter began to flow naturally, and conversations unfolded effortlessly. The tension in Marcus's shoulders eased as he witnessed his daughter and new partner finding common ground, especially in teasing him, it appeared.

Marcus smirks as he places a plate under Missy’s nose. 

“Heart-shaped, chocolate chip pancakes? You trying to woo me, Dad?”

“Just showing the love for my amazing daughter.” 

“Why, what are you after?” Smiling, she pours the raspberry syrup over the stack.

“Nothing. Just want you to know how special you are to me is all.” He mumbles quietly with pink cheeks frazzling under his thick rimmed specs.

"Your love is causing me to gain five pounds." She muses.

“What’s that?” He asks, nodding over to the skin on her shoulder now revealed as she ties back her hair.

She glances down at the rather large and angry bruise and back at her father’s concerned eyes. 

“I can handle it, Dad.” She reminds him as he visibly tenses. 

“I know. But I’m always going to worry. Even if you are a Moreno badass.” 

She laughs and then sighs, pulling her cardigan on and covering up the bruise. “Comes with the territory, right?"

He nods, sadly. "It does."

Missy picks up her fork to dig in and then hesitates. "Did you... did you ever have those days when you thought about throwing in the towel?”

Marcus nods again. “All the time.”

As Marcus reminisces about his past, memories of battles lost and wounds endured flood his mind like unwelcome guests crashing a solemn reunion. There were moments etched in his memory with the vividness of fresh lacerations - times when victory had slipped through his fingers like sand, leaving behind scars that ran deeper than mere flesh and bone.

“How did you keep going? How did you… find the strength?” She sighs and Marcus can only helplessly observe the features of her own face, young, but carrying that weight of the world is starting to age her quicker than he would like.

He remembers the deafening roar of explosions echoing in the night as he fought valiantly against insurmountable odds, only to find himself battered and broken, his spirit and pride bruised more than his body.

There were battles where the enemy's strength seemed limitless, where every blow landed with the force of a freight train, threatening to crush his resolve beneath its weight.

In the aftermath of defeat, Marcus found himself questioning everything he had once believed in. The wounds he bore were not just physical; they were a reflection of the doubts and insecurities that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness.

He considered putting away his katanas many, many times, walking away from the life of a hero and leaving behind the chaos and destruction that seemed to follow in his wake.

But even in the darkest moments of despair, a flicker of hope remained - a stubborn ember that refused to be extinguished. It was the memory of those he had sworn to protect, the faces of innocence that haunted his dreams and whispered words of encouragement in the depths of his despair mid-fight.

Marcus leans over the counter on his arms and pinches a raspberry from Missy’s plate. 

“For you. I wanted to make the world a better place for you to grow up in. Safe.”

Missy smiles like a dim bulb about to burn out as she eats. “You did a pretty good job of that, Dad. I've had some big shoes to fill.”

He smiles, running his tongue around the raspberry pips now lodged in his teeth. 

“You’re doing great, kiddo.”

He reaches for another raspberry and she bats his hand away as he chuckles. 

“You know, you’re the only man who's ever gotten me flowers…” She says a few minutes later, eyeing the fluffy heads with a slight dip on her face, and Marcus can’t help but furrow his brow in unison.

Missy looks up at her father with twinkly eyes that mirror the melting chips in the pancakes. “I love you. You know that, right?” 

“Te quiero mucho, mucho.” (I love you very, very much.) He nods as they eat together. 

“I should get going-” Missy states after she finishes her plate, which only seems to be after a few hefty shovels.

“No, stay.”

“As much as I love being a third wheel, it’s Valentine’s Day.” She reminds him. 

“Hey.” Marcus takes her elbow gently. “You know this is your home, you're always welcome here, no matter what. I always want you here.”

“I know. But you guys should do the whole love thing today. Alone.” 

“What about you?” He asks, concerned at the thought of Missy sitting alone in her apartment on the most love-filled day of the year. 

“I’ll be fine.” She assures with a tight smile. “Might see if Miss Starlight or Renegade wanna hang. We can all be lonely and miserable together.” She snorts. 

A thoughtful pause follows before Marcus tentatively broaches the idea. "Have you ever thought about giving online dating a try? You know, like the dating app profile you made for me? I hear it’s all the rage these days."

Missy raises an eyebrow, a playful grin forming on her face, "Dad, are you suggesting I join the world of swipes and emojis? Because that ship has long sailed. I’m knee deep in dilfs on the regular." She grins.

Marcus chuckles nervously, "I have no idea what any of that means.”

“Probably best.”

“Well, I mean, it's one way to meet people. You might find someone who appreciates your eloquent wit and charm."

“Don’t forget the potty mouth.”

“That too,” he smiles. “I know what it’s like. Being the world’s hero leaves you somewhat… lonely. I don't want that for you.”

Missy nods contemplating. “I’ve been giving it some thought.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, you two seem really happy together. I guess I miss having that sometimes.”

Marcus, feigning surprise, replies, "Really? Well, I guess you can thank your old man for staying on top of the trends and leading by example."

Missy rolls her eyes playfully, "Oh, I will, Dad. You're my dating app guru now."

“Hardly.” He scoffs.

“This is true, you lucked out on round one. You didn’t get to kiss any gnarly toads or do the walk of shame.”

“The walk of shame?”

“I'll tell you about it when you’re older some day,” Missy quips with a grin. 

There’s always a subtle restlessness, a physical awareness that manifests in the anticipation of your next meeting.

The memory of your kiss lingers on his lips, he can still taste you long after you're gone, and the mere thought of your touch again sparks a warmth that courses through his veins, burning him up from the inside.

His body has changed so much, and yet you make Marcus feel like he’s young and nubile again when the butterflies begin to flap around, and that tingle surges deliciously down the length of his cock.  

With a sense of heady excitement and a touch of mystery, Marcus decided to plan a special surprise for you for Valentine’s Day.

One that he hopes you won’t forget in a hurry. 

He arrives at your place, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, and the breath torn from his lungs as he beholds you opening the door with that gorgeous smile just for him. 

Every time he has the chance to see you again, whether for a planned date or an unexpected visit, Marcus feels a powerful surge run through him, making his fingers crackle with a pulsing intensity that makes them buzz almost uncontrollably. He doesn't bother shaking the feeling away anymore, instead he revels in it.

The moments leading up to your regular reunions are filled with a blend of eagerness and a touch of nervous anticipation, as if each meeting holds the promise of uncovering something new and extraordinary.

In those stolen glances and shared moments, Marcus discovers that missing someone can be a beautiful ache, a testament to the depth of his feelings for you, absent hearts and all that spiel. 

An ache that is soon satiated when you open the door and smile at him like he’s the only man in the world. 

His lips find yours almost instantly as you grasp onto his broad shoulders in the doorway, the pair of you almost toppling through in your desperate haste. The soft groans that escape him makes your blood throb inside your veins.

His tongue slips into the comforting home of your mouth, and you feel it over every nerve ending in your body, tingly and visceral. And not just from his crackly fingertips.

“Hey you,” you eventually manage to sigh into his plush mouth, feeling the silk of his greying beard smoothing against your cheeks. 

“Hey, mi Dulzura…” (Hey, my Sweetness) he murmurs dreamily as he plants delicate kisses along your jawline and inhales the scent of your perfume. It’s the vanilla and jasmine one he likes so much when he can smell it lingering on his pillows. 

He’s all hands and enthusiastic smooches the moment he sees you. Unable to abnegate himself away from the basic needs of touch and affection that you give back to him in equal abundance.

You can't get enough of one another. 

You feel his large hands squeeze your hips gently, and your body flares as he pulls you in closer to him, crushed right up against his stacked, warm chest as he kisses you more with a heated groan. 

Reluctantly pulling away he suggests, "How about we go on a little adventure today? I've got something special planned."

“You spoil me, Mr Moreno.” You cluck, running your hands over the soft leather jacket adorning his arms. 

“Always,” he confirms with a grin. “You look great, so beautiful,” he says, eyeing your tight jeans and pretty floral shirt combo. 

“As do you, you scrub up well.” You marvel at the jeans, leather jacket and green t-shirt he’s casually adorned in, pulling tight in all the right places. You stroke over the soft swell of his tummy as you lean in for another kiss.

He pulls something silken out of his pocket and you glance at it with raised eyebrows. “May I?”

“Kinky shenanigans planned on my doorstep?” You query as you allow him to blindfold you. “The neighbours will love that…” You giggle.

“Even better,” he whispers into your ear salaciously. 

“You hound.” You swipe out playfully to him, but miss when you can’t see anything at all now.

“Woof.” He growls, pausing to nip on your lobe and revelling in your desperate whine in response.

After a short drive through town, Marcus finally pulls up. "Trust me, you're going to love this," he assures as he guides you out of the car.

He carefully leads you along a path, each step heightening the sense of anticipation. As you walk blindly, his arm around your waist, and your hand holding tightly onto his other, you can feel his own sense of excitement as it buzzes into your skin with those pleasant tingles and crackles.

“Just a little further.” He assures as he pushes open a door and you step through to inhale a moistness in the air; a balmy heat that’s different from the outside that settles into your pores. 

“Where are we?” You question with a jaunty, excitable tinkle. For a moment, the smell reminds you of a swimming pool.

“Just wait…” You can hear him grinning. 

When you reach your destination, Marcus removes the blindfold, unveiling the breathtaking scene of the Austin botanical garden before you.

The vibrant colours, the fragrant blossoms, and the serene atmosphere creates a picturesque display that leaves you in absolute awe.

You’re surrounded by flowers in abundance, the scent of them driving you wild as they all scramble to make you smell their perfumes first. You’re even more stunned to find it all completely empty.

"Welcome to the botanical garden.” Marcus says, tucking the blindfold into his leather jacket pocket. “It’s one of my favourite places.” 

“Wow!” You smile, turning a full three-sixty as you take it all in. “You know, I’ve always been meaning to come here. I don’t know why I haven’t before…”

“I thought we could spend the day here," Marcus announces with a grin. “Look,” he points over to a small set up of a picnic on a grassy area under an intricate arch of purple orchids in the shape of a heart.

“Looks like a giant purple heart emoji.” You smile at him. 

He nods, eyebrows wiggling above his specs.

“You really know how to romance a girl,” you smile, stroking under his chin. 

“I booked this place out just for us.” His hands slide down your lower back pulling you into him. “We’re completely alone…”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We have the whole day here, if we want.”

“I want. Very much.” You nod and pull him forward by his lapels for a deep kiss. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you smile, cupping his cheeks and gliding your nose over his. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi Dulzura. Feliz Día del Corazón.” (My Sweetness. Happy Heart Day.)

He kisses you, gently nipping onto your lips as you wrap your arms around the back of his neck. 

The air is filled with the sweet fragrance of blooming flowers as you stroll together along lush pathways, surrounded by an array of captivating plant life.

The Orchid Pavilion, the base for your picnic, is adorned with hanging baskets of intricate orchids, showcasing a kaleidoscope of colours - from delicate pastels to vibrant hues. 

After eating together, an array of home baked, sweet treats Marcus had prepared himself, you wander through a section adorned with curtains of exotic orchids, and Marcus can't contain his enthusiasm as he takes on the role of your personal tour guide.

A role he takes very seriously, much to your amusement. 

"Did you know orchids have a fascinating way of attracting pollinators? Some mimic the appearance and scent of certain insects to lure them in. It's nature's way of flirting, I suppose." He rambles excitedly.

You chuckle, finding Marcus's nerdy fascination endearing. "Flirting through flowers, who would've thought? Tell me more, Mr. Botanist."

You continue your fascinating journey, hand in hand, and Marcus points out a cluster of carnivorous plants. 

"These are pitcher plants. They have specialised leaves that form a pitcher-like structure to trap insects. It's like having a tiny garden predator."

“Have you got these in your garden?” You query, peering into their tube-like structures, like tiny trumpets in the grasses. He has so many of his own plants it's hard to remember them all.

“No. I do have a Venus Fly Trap though. She’s very bitey.” He nips on your neck making you yelp as he walks you forward. 

“Ah. Audrey II, of course.” You smirk. 

“Of course.” He muses. 

As you reach a serene pond surrounded by water lilies, Marcus shares another tidbit. 

"Water lilies close their flowers at night and reopen in the morning, and they…. what?” He stops to look at you quizzically, noting the expression spreading over your face. “W-why are you looking at me like that?”

You shake your head smiling, all teeth bared at him. “You're so sexy when you geek out.”

He blushes beet red and smirks. “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until we get to the cacti garden. I will be insufferable.”

"Hot." You chuckle.

You meander through a section dedicated to succulents and cacti, where the desert's resilience takes centre stage. The ground is adorned with various prickly shapes and sizes, from the elegant arms of Saguaro cacti to the whimsical arrangements of succulents that seem to defy gravity as their spiky tendrils reach towards the sky. 

The sun bathes this arid landscape in a warm glow through the high glass ceilings, casting shadows that play on the pebbly, sandy ground like a dance of desert spirits conjured by mystical forces.

“You were right, it’s pretty awesome.” You say. 

“Not as awesome as you,” he whispers, kissing you again. 

A serpentine path leads you to the Aquatic Garden, where more water lilies float gracefully on the surface of a tranquil pond. Golden Koi Carp glide beneath the water, adding a splash of movement as you both sit by it chatting. 

The reflections of the surrounding greenery dance on the water, creating a mirror-like effect that seems to amplify the selection of plant species all around you. You dip your fingers into the pool, the fish swimming curiously around at a safe distance, and Marcus watches with a smile that makes his cheeks ache. 

“You like butterflies?” He asks you. 

You nod, smiling as he takes your hand and leads you to the Butterfly Conservatory, a whimsical space alive with fluttering colours of Black Swallowtails, Red Admirals and Cloudless Sulphurs.

Thousands of butterflies dance around, their delicate wings creating a haze of hues that add an extra layer of enchantment to the garden that stuns you into silent giggles at such a place.

“I wish I could fly sometimes.” You smile as the butterflies flit around, some landing on your sleeves as you admire their delicacy with a splendid awe.

You bring your arm closer to your face, your nose wrinkling in delight as the tiny butterfly shows off its wings just for you. 

“Funny you should mention that.” Marcus teases.

You eye him carefully. “What do you mean?”

“I have something else planned for you today. If you’re up for it?”

“I’m always up for it.” You smirk.

“Come on.” He takes you by the hand once more and leads you towards a garden that’s outside and full of roses in every shade of pink and red that exists on the colour scale. 

“This is stunning,” you say, slowing down as you take them all in.

Akin to being lost in the Queen of Heart’s gardens, it takes you a few minutes of wandering back through the maze of rose bushes, interwoven with clusters of pale lavender hydrangeas, to find Marcus handling some belts and clips near a device you’ve never seen before. 

“Is that what I think it is?” You question with wide eyes as you notice the large contraption hovering just a few inches above the grass, whirring silently.

It has two large circular fans and belts that lead from it to Marcus’s waist as he clips himself securely into it.

“You wanna fly?” He queries and you nod enthusiastically, feeling a surge zap through you and your toes tingle in your shoes. 

You feel him navigate a similar belt around your waist, willingly holding your arms out. He runs his nose against your neck as he does it, and you hear him groan in satisfaction as he inhales.

“Mouth watering...” He murmurs as he kisses your skin and your feel it pulse in your core as you clench around nothing. 

You watch as he clips your belt into his and tugs against it.

“Are you ready?” Marcus asks you as you step closer to him.

“No.” You giggle.

“Do you trust me?” He questions with a serious face, thumb stroking down your cheek.

You nod looking into his deep, cocoa eyes. “With my life.”

Marcus smiles at that, wrapping his hands around your waist. “I’ve got you. You’re safe, okay?"

"Okay." You nod, smiling.

"You’re not afraid of heights, are you?

“Bit late to ask me that now,” you chuckle, and so does he. "Are you going to run me through the pre-flight safety checks?"

Marcus smirks. "Hold onto me. That's it."

"Well, shit." You cling onto him as the whirring starts to get faster, the blades of grass blown out into flat circles, and you can feel the belt cinch tighter around your waist as it lifts you both off the ground. 

“Oh my God!” You clutch onto him tighter and he chuckles softly. “This is really happening!”

“Let’s go see the city.” Marcus smiles, placing a kiss on your head. 

Once a soft breeze, the wind grows more ferocious around you, your body becoming free from the reassuring surface of the world.

The wonder in your eyes grows to questionable proportions, and you’re soon completely bewildered at the fact that you're really flying.

He tips forward in a smooth motion so you’re both lying horizontal in the air when the device reaches the desired altitude.

“You ready?”

You nod eagerly as he propels forward with a simple push of his upper body, steering, as you both zoom off towards the Austin city skyline, your giggly gasps ringing in his ears.

Your eyes meet his in wonder as you grip onto him tightly. “Marcus! We’re flying!”

You feel like you’re shouting over the wind whipping against you, eyes wide and gleaming at the sight of the city approaching in a block chart of colour and twinkles of lights. 

It feels colder, but being crushed against his body keeps you warm enough. You’re too exhilarated to feel any change in body temperature. 

You brave yourself to look at the sky above sinking into an inky twilight of orange and cerise hues as the sun sets. 

“Welcome to my world,” Marcus says, nuzzling into you.

You feel his grip lessen and glance at him with alarm, but the look in his eyes convinces you he’s not going to let you fall.

He simply reaches for your hand with one of his, and you drop subtly beneath him, the belt keeping you close as he takes your other hand and you’re spread out beneath, back against his chest, arms wide as they can go as he holds them out parallel with his.

“Oh shit!” You gasp as he flies you both faster, curving and twisting around the breadth of the skyscrapers; your giddy reflection in the mirrors of the glass windows ara a blur as you pass. 

You don’t notice when he lets go of your hands, his arms around your waist instead as your own arms stay out in front of you as you rip through the air. 

“Better than the butterflies?” You hear him call.

“So much better than the butterflies!” You laugh, almost hysterically, as he loops back towards the botanical garden, after a few more laps around the city. 

As soon as you’re back on the ground in the rose garden, a wave of adrenaline surges through you, and you lunge at him with shaky limbs, almost knocking him off balance.

A melody of gasps and breathy pants puff out of your mouths as you kiss frantically through tinctured groans. The whimper in the back of his throat conveying more than words ever need to about his desire for you in this moment. 

Marcus unclips the belts, yanking them off of the both of you with a fumbling fervour, glued at the mouth with you. Clumsy kisses, teeth clashing against one anothers in your mutual haste, as you push his leather jacket down over his shoulders and his fingers eagerly untuck your shirt from your jeans. 

“That was incredible,” you gasp into his mouth, unzipping his jeans. 

“You’re incredible,” he groans as you take his swollen cock in your hand, squeezing and stroking gently as you lavish kisses over his bronzed neck. 

“Oh God,” Marcus moans.

Subtle flicks of your tongue leave him gasping, his hands running through your windswept hair as you make tracks over his chest littered with sparse, greying hairs as you both tumble to the grass and push his t-shirt up further. 

Tasting all the way down his sternum and lingering over the soft paunch of his tummy, a place you always nuzzle against, he glances down at you with a bashful smile.

Then a gentle nibble on his hips before your tongue wanders into the small, neatly trimmed thatch of hairs around the back of this thick, weeping cock. 

“Oh, please…” he whines biting down on his lip. 

You lick up from the base of him, your eyes transfixed on his as he gasps, watching you run up the full length of him to kiss the top of his leaking head gently. You stroke his thighs and he parts them further making room for you as you settle into making out with his cock. 

You’ve mastered the art of taking your time with him, enjoying the sounds that flutter out of his mouth as you take him deeper and deeper. Those unbridled whimpers as you suck fill your ears, and you swear you’ve never heard a more perfect sound escape him. 

It's when you take him all the way down is when he loses his calm, polite composure. 

“Fuck!” Marcus gasps, his head lolling back. “Mm, just like that…” 

You smirk to yourself as you feel fingers knotting in your hair and subtly tugging on it.

“Yeah… so fucking good. Oh my God… Yes.” He pants.

You let him have free reign over your body too, as he buries two fingers inside you and licks you to orgasm. His favourite place is between your legs, his second is a garden. When the two collide, it's even better.

“Marcus, please…” you pant, words tumbling from your mouth as your legs shake.

“Tell me, tell me what you want, mi Dulzura.”

“I want you inside me.”

“Right here?” You feel his buzzing fingers plunger deeper, stroking on that spot that makes your thighs shake harder as you feel the tingles ramp up. “You want me filling you up, hmm?” 

“Yeah.” You pant as he circles your clit. The heavy throb undeniable on it from the crackling in the tip of his thumb.

“That feel good?” He smirks.

You fist the grass, tearing blades from it that stick to your palms as you grasp his face, fingernails digging into his skull behind his ears as your exhale and puff into his face. 

“Oh my God, yes, Marcus!”

His glasses dig into your cheeks as you strain and wail, your breath fogging them up a little.

“Come for me. Come all over my fingers, come on.” He chants watching you, foreheads crushed together as he zaps and strokes harder inside you. 

“Come, mi Dulzura. ¡Dios mío, eres tan malditamente hermosa!” (My God, you're so damn beautiful!)

The Spanish whispers send you over the edge. “M-Marcus!” You cry out, squeezing around his fingers as your whole body shakes; tingles flooding all over and making you feel like you’re still flying, all the way up there in the pale lilac sky above you as your eyes roll back into it.

You feel him kissing over your neck, humming softly muffled words of praise and desire into your skin as your slick coats his fingers just like he wanted.

"So fucking perfect for me," Marcus croons.

“I need you.” You whisper. 

“God, I need you, too.”

His large, perfectly sculpted nose crushes into the side of your jaw as he fills you; your gasps and whines echoing around the rose garden as he slides into your utterly drenched pussy.

He loves how the stretch of you around his cock brings you to orgasm almost right away; a few gentle thrusts as you adjust to his thickness, and you’re shuddering for him, coating him in your slick before he plunders deeper with that gentle, rhythmic pounding.

He loves how you're completely insatiable for one another, despite the ravishes of age rendering your bones heavier, your paces slower.

Despite it all, you still embark on a journey of a healthy sexual appetite, even if you both have to navigate it with a little more preparedness sometimes; it still rocks your world.

He still has it, and so do you. 

“You feel so good,” You whisper to him as he nuzzles into your face. The wind of his hips into yours, hits you at the perfect angle, again and again. 

“We feel so good together,” he breathes with a smile. “Fuck, I can’t get enough of you. I don't think I’ll ever stop getting enough of you.” 

You kiss him again as he thrusts a little harder, a little faster. 

The vulnerabilities of being so exposed, so spread before him like this, revealing all the parts about yourself you’ve scrutinised scathingly in the mirror with abhorrence, fade away.

It’s all those wrinkled, stretched, sagged parts of you that he worships with his crackly fingers and tongue. He spends time appreciating them, fawning over them and lavishing them with the attention they so thoroughly deserve as he rolls with you so you’re on top now.

How you watch as your less-than-perky breasts tumble into his face as he pulls them out of your bra, but he licks and suckles at them as his cock notches against your hole and he groans out as you sit on him fully. Running his tongue around those stiff pebbles unabashed, sucking them into his mouth as you grind on him. 

“Come for me…” Marcus pants as he watches that dreamy glaze settle into your eyes as you ride him; that glittery feeling about ready to burst out of your pores as he pushes up with his hips to meet you. “Need to feel you soak me.” 

“Oh shit, I’m coming!” You shake on top of him, gasping. Head thrown back as you rock and grinning as you see stars explode across the sky above you. 

Yeah. Marcus Moreno has still got it.

“That’s it, like that. Fuck, I’m gonna come too! Fuck! Fuuuck!”

Marcus stiffens, his whole body tenses as his hips jerk, and he fills you up. Floods you until he's dripping warm and pearly out of you, all over his soft belly, as you lean upwards to kiss him some more.

Afterwards, as you both lay in the grass half dressed and satiated from the highs of flying and your lovemaking, Marcus reaches up above you both, plucking a single, red rose from the bush and hands it to you. 

You sniff the fragrant petals and smile at him with glittery eyes that wander over his face looking back at you. You run the rose head gently over his cheek and he smiles, and you think you've never seen anything more beautiful in your life.

The way he’s looking at you right now literally renders you mute and unable to breathe. 

But he's a tempest under that sweet smile.

He’s felt it for a while now, that tether between you becoming tighter, knotting into something unbreakable and deepening, but he finds himself grappling with a gnawing worry - one that whispers doubts in the quiet moments of contemplation.

He fears the weight of those three simple words that are on the cusp of his tongue: I love you. 

It wasn't that he doubted the sincerity of his emotions; rather, it was the fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of how those words might alter the delicate balance of your relationship.

Is it too soon? Is it too much? Is it foolish at his age to even begin to allow himself the same giddy excitement he felt when he was much younger? Would uttering those words irrevocably change the dynamic between you, shifting the fragile equilibrium you had both carefully cultivated?

There's also the fear of rejection, of laying his heart bare only to have it met with silence or crippling hesitation. What if you might not feel the same way yet, or even at all? That his declaration of love might drive a wedge between you rather than bring you closer together causes a reaction within him that makes him physically tense.

“I can feel your heartbeat speeding up,” you say, regarding him quizzically with your hand already resting on his chest. Little fluttery pulses thrum under your fingertips.

Looking at you gazing up at him, a mixture of awe and concern, Marcus knows he has all he’s ever wanted and needed right here in his arms, and he can't deny the truth that simmers beneath the surface of his hesitations. 

He loves you with a fierceness that defies logic - defies gravity, even. A love that transcends the boundaries of time and space. And as he grapples with his fears, he knows deep down that the only way forward is to take a leap of faith, to trust in the strength of your forged connection that grows stronger between you every day. 

He decides he has to be bold. To be brave.

To be heroic. 

“I love you. I-I’m in love with you.” Marcus says softly, wrinkled almond eyes swimming with a mix of euphoria and worry. “Be my Valentine?”

You reach for him, stroking your fingers in the soft silk of his greying jawline. 

“También te quiero, Marcus.” You say, before he grazes his lips across yours. (I love you too, Marcus.)

“You learned some Spanish.” He whispers in awe, pulling his smile wide and eyes glistening behind the lenses of his specs.

“I figured I should. After all, I wanna understand all the special things you whisper in my ear.” 

“Sólo las cosas más especiales, y sucias, para ti, mi amor…” (Only the most special, and dirty, things for you, my love.)

“Yeah, I’m not fluent.” You chuckle as he kisses you, pulling you over fully onto his body where he crushes you against him. 

“Yet,” he smiles, as he sucks your bottom lip into this mouth for a deep kiss. 

“So, are we flying home, or…?” You ask.

“You’re an adrenaline junkie now,  hmm?” 

“What can I say, you’ve taken me to new heights, Mr Moreno. I might become addicted.”

“I already am.” Marcus says, nuzzling into you. 

“We should go soon, someone might find us?”

He shakes his head. “I told you, we have the whole place to ourselves, for a little while longer anyway. What do you want to do?”

You smile at him, devilishly.

“Make me fly again…” You whisper, as you feel his re-hardened cock dipping into your sticky folds. 

You push back as he slips fully inside you, hips bucking up to fill you full of him once more, and Marcus does exactly what you ask of him; he lets you fly. 

Thank you so much for enjoying this story! I'd love to know your thoughts and would really appreciate a re-blog too so others can enjoy some Mature!Marcus Moreno. Isn't he just dreamy? Happy Valentine's Day! 🖤😘

MAIN MASTERLIST | MARCUS MORENO MASTERLIST

[nothingtherefornow]

About Evil teenagers antagonists in Miraculous

I currently wonder how can some fans still want a redemption for somoene like Chloé who willingly hurt people just because that's was her definition of "fun".

Why not accept Chloé as somoene evil ? Just because she's 14 years old ? Just because Gabriel was worst than her doesn't take away the fact that Chloé is a truly bad person who has the potential to become as evil, if not worse than Gabriel while growing up.

Even in real life, adults are not the only ones who are capable of cruelty and crimes. If only adults were capable of monstrosity, I wouldn't have 14-year-olds killing each other with callache nikoffs in the drug trafficking districts of my city. we wouldn't have young people beating up little ones and pushing others to suicide and absolutely not regretting their actions. And we wouldn't have stories to raise eyebrows about kids capable of committing murder and acts of torture without necessarily having been abused in their lives.

To me, anyone who loves to make others suffer for their own sick pleasure (and their victims are people who objectively don't deserve such cruelty) has serious mental issues and can be a danger to others.

Both Chloé and Lila love to make others people suffer or don't care about hurting innocents, and they certainly don't feel any empathy for anyone, or in Chloé's case, no longer feel any empathy (she may have felt sympathy and empathy for Adrien at some point, like during the episode Felix in season 3, but that's definitly no longer the case as soon as Adrien asked her to stop being a biatch). Maybe Lila may feel a form of attachment toward her mothers, yet that doesn't stop her from manipulating them and fooling them in a way that's pretty cruel if you dig deeper in Lila's scale of truancy and imposterization.

I know that technically when a 14 year old kid behaves like Lila and Chloé we could say to ourselves that it is unfair to give them no chance and to condemn them when they are only 14-15 years old and could change for the better if they could be guided on the right path.

But Miraculouse is a show in which the superheroes with the fate of the world in their hands are 14 year old kids. And as such in this fictitious reality, other 14 year olds are perfectly likely to become real cruel and threatening villains i without any scruples, especialy if they are influenced by the wickedness of an adult supervillain.

And I believe that Gabriel's evilness only made Chloé's and Lila's wickedness worse.

He put those two girls in positions of power where they could hurt others and act according to their darkest and Manichean impulses. And Lila and Chloé would only want more taste of that power to crush others. And you know how power easilly corrupt the most greedy hearts.

On several occasions, Gabriel even approved of Lila and Chloe's horrible plans and actions. He has encouraged Lila on numerous occasions to "get rid of" Marinette, thus giving the impression that he supports Lila's jealousy, and during collusion he will have the nerve to say that Chloé's ideas, which consist literally ruining the academic future of your classmates and putting your pregnant teacher in jail for no good reason are good ideas. Having a rich adult in a position to approve of their actions in this way will only have given Lila and Chloe the feeling that their acts of cruelty and malice are justified, and thus reinforced their evil nature.

On several occasions we have seen Chloe and Lila voluntarily let themselves be akumatized, and worse than that, we have seen them plan to be akumatized (Chloe in Penalteam, and Lila in Revelation) and not for understandable reasons like that of a desperate Jalil brainwashed by lies on social media. Because Lila and Chloe have only ever been motivated by their narcicism, their ego, and their desire to get revenge on people they hate for the most pettiest, vain and selfish reasons possible.

Lila and Chloé may be kids, but they are evil teenagers, because they would gladly become supervillain if that means getting what they want. And what they want is anything but noble. For their selfish goals, Lila and Chloé were willing to endanger the city they live in and all its inhabitants. I don't even know if I can still call Lila and Chloé kids or teenagers, with how far they're willing to go and hurt people for the sake of their ambitions.

Although there's still the possibility that Lila may be an adult with a youngfull appearance or a hormonal abnormality making her look like a teenager when she could be an adult. But that would risk making her a pedophile so I don't think the show will go that far ^^ At most they could give her the same as Théo Barbot

But an antagonist adult would be needed then to balance an antagonist teenager supervillain.

Good thing we still have Tomoe Tsurugi then

It's tragic that Chloé and Lila wickedness and evilness could be due to serious mental issues or Chloé's bad upbringing, and the show may have decided that it's more important to protect others from the harm Chloé and Lila can cause rather than to prioritize "helping" them with their issues. Both Marinette and Adrien proposed another path for Chloé to chose, one that could have helped her heal from the emotional and mental wounds her mother's abandonment and neglect. Chloé instead chose Hawkmoth's/Monarch

Ladybug offered Lila her friendship, and Adrien also offered Lila to be there for her as long as she didn't hurt those he loved. Yet both Lila and Chloe voluntarily chose to continue committing bad deeds and hurting others, regardless of the fact that someone reached out to them and offered them another path to get love, acknowledgement and recognition from people. Adrien and Marinette don't have to sacrifice their mental health for people who wish them harm, so I understand very well that it wasn't and won't be their priority to help Chloé and Lila find potential redemption. And especially when Lila and Chloe seem determined to refuse to change and continue to cling to their wickedness.

It should be the adults responsabilities to deal with Chloé and Lila issues, and unfortunatelly the adults in Miraculous are pretty lousy and incompetents. It's very tragic when we don't know that one kid is a psychopath, and if another has always gotten away with his narcissistic behavior disorder and nothing had ever been done to help them deal with that issue, that only leaves the opportunity for the seed of evil in these kids to germinate and flourish, and then reach the level of nastiness that is more often found in adults.

[oh-austin]

hello love! an instagram au request - austin & y/n having twins? love your work so much 😘

twin babies au !

liked by yourinstagram, zendaya and 63,299 others

austinbutler women are out of this world 🤍 the mother of my children

view all comments

ashleytisdale a superhero 🫶🏼🫶🏼

austinbutler she’s one strong woman

yourinstagram 💪🏼

austinfan1 I’m so happy for them 😩

austinfan3 they make each other so happy 🥹

florencepugh glowing!!

austinfan4 children????????

austinfan7 what is he tryna tell us?

tomholland1996 any day now!! congratulations to you both

zendaya sending baby presents as we speak!!! 🫶🏽

yourinstagram love to you both!

austinfan8 y/n looks ethereal

austinfan10 she is woman hear her roar

yourinstagram thank you both x 🦁

austinfan13 AUSTIN ISNT SLICK IM STILL ON THE TWIN THEORY, CANT FOOL ME

austinbutler 🤐

liked by austinfan16 and 5378 others

deuxmoi Reports that Y/N L/N has gone into labour at California Memorial Hospital! Congratulations to her and her partner, Austin Butler.

view all comments

austinfan16 omgomgomgomg

austinfan21 it’s happening, it’s actually happening- Austin Butler is gonna be a dilf for REAL 😭

austinfan24 I’m losing it !!!!!!

austinfan28 austin and y/n are actually having a baby I’m freaking

austinfan29 is this real life 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

austinfan32 ❤️❤️❤️❤️

liked by austinbutler, annasophiarobb and 23,920 others

yourinstagram double the love, austin and i are very happy to announce the arrival of our little loves: hudson and nina

view all comments

austinfan36 HUDSON AND NINA 😖💗💗💗💗

austinfan37 y/n.. did you name your kids after book characters????

yourinstagram maybe 🤫🤫🤫

florencepugh congratulations!! they are just precious!!

austinbutler thank you miss flo 😉

austinfan42 HAHAHA AUSTIN STOP WERE CELEBRATING A BIRTH HERE

austinfan44 y/n definitely keeps him up to date on the gossip, even when heavily pregnant

vanessahudgens they look so sweet!! congratulations

austinfan45 v and y/n being friends is a powermove on their behalf

austinfan47 still reeling over the fact they have KIDS NOW

austinfan51 that one fan account who had the twins theory is probably SO happy right now

austinfan53 I am very happy in fact 🥹🥹🥹🥹

austinbutler you, nina and hud are my biggest achievements- love you mamas ❤️

[scifimagpie]

Writeblr intro

Last Updated: Mar 2024 So, I realised I hadn't actually written one of these, and I had to fix it!

Name: Magpie, or Shelle, or Michelle.

Pronouns: she/her or xe/xer/xis.

Who: both a writer and an editor!

The Writing: I’ve been publishing since 2011, and I have a bunch of free and paid anthologies I’ve organized, but these are my most important/favourite works.

Except for The Meaning Wars series, all of my books are set in Canada!  

The Meaning Wars (complete; And The Stars Will Sing, The Stolen: Two Short Stories, The Meaning Wars, Poe’s Outlaws, A Jade’s Trick, The Meaning Wars Complete Omnibus)

Similar to: Becky Chambers’ A Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet and Ruthanna Emrys’ A Half-Built Garden

Vibes: Space opera! Found family! Mature (30s) protagonists! Best friends! Sapphic and queer m/f romance elements! Friendly space raptors! Space pirates! A beach episode! Antifascism! Colonization (and inequality issues)! Fighting stuff with democracy and direct action!  

The Underlighters (Book 1 of The Nightmare Cycle; Book 2, Monsters and Fools, is complete and in edits. Book 3, The Foundling City, is a current WIP!)

Similar to: Jean DuPrau’s The City of Ember, Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere, the Fallout series

Vibes: Coming of age/new adult themes. Spooky monsters. Post-apocalyptic. The importance and warmth of community. Friendship. Struggling with teen problems. Polyamory. Nightmares. Mental health issues. Trauma. Hope. Recycling.

After The Garden (Book 1 of the Memory Bearers Saga; Book 2, Within the Tempest, is also one of my WIPs)

Similar to: Margaret Atwood’s Oryx and Crake, The Wachowski sisters’ Sense-8, the Fallout series

Vibes: Found family. Gentle romance. Polyamory (m/f/m). Superpowers without superheroes. Sinister cults and religious extremism. Reincarnation. An alternate future. Adorable giant spiders. Silk-weaving and fiber arts. Post-collapse societal reorganization and politics.

The Loved, The Lost, The Dreaming: A Horror Anthology includes an alternate-ending version of The Underlighters, the novella A Shot of Vodka, and a dozen or so genre-crossing short stories. All of them have spooky elements.

Similar to: Neil Gaiman’s Smoke and Mirrors, Roald Dahl’s Skin and Other Stories (this is not an endorsement of antisemite Roald Dahl; I am antifascist)

Vibes: Underground living. Spooky dolls. Abandoned houses. Queerness. Sinister fey. Nightmares. Lovecraftian eeriness. Here be monsters.

Bad Things That Happen To Girls (Book 1 of the Memory Bearers Saga; Book 2, Within the Tempest, is also one of my WIPs) Possibly my most underrated work, this New Adultish story is a standalone novella about trauma and what happens when life breaks down.

Similar to: Emily Danforth’sThe Miseducation of Cameron Post and Miriam Toews’ A Complicated Kindness

Vibes: Broken family. Abusive mother. Being queer in a small city. Religious trauma. Forbidden cross-cultural love. Teen heartbreak. Coming-of-age. Sisters.

The Hell series (Unpublished WIPs; Dark as Hell, Uncharted Hell, Hope in Hell)

Similar to: Assassin’s Creed: Black Flag, Andrej Sapkowski’s The Witcher series

Vibes: Grumpy/sunshine romance! Mature protagonists! Queer f/m romance! Thriller elements! Immortal pirate! Marxist/anti-billionaire politics—with a billionaire protag! Lovecraftian ocean horror! Historical fantasy elements! Lots and lots of boat stuff!

Prairie Weather Trilogy (Unpublished but complete, in submission; Chinook Phase, Tornado Warning, Brushfire)

Similar to: Douglas Couplands’ Jpod,Nick Sagan’s Idlewild trilogy (without the sci fi stuff), Love Actually, Heartstoppers

Vibes: Aggressively Canadian! Found family! Cozy academia! University! Set in the early 2010s! Queer romance! Ensemble cast! Aggressively queer, diverse, and inclusive! Coming-of-Age/New Adult issues! Friendship! Drama! Sex work-positivity!             

The Editing: I've been a professional freelance editor since 2013, with Top-Rated status on Upwork (a freelancing website) and several hundred books under my belt. (I don't know how many things I've worked on at this point. I've lost count!) Primarily into sci fi, fantasy, horror, and literature (and associated subgenres); enthusiastic about #ownvoices and all kinds of diversity/marginalised representation in fiction.

You don’t have to go through Upwork unless you want to; DM me if you’re looking for an editor who’s knowledgeable, enthusiastic, and gentle. I’m also budget-friendly!

Age: in my 30s.

Queer?: yes. Also poly! Happily married to two people; also have a girlfriend. Not looking for more partners.

Disabled?: yes.

Languages: English mostly, but some conversational Spanish (rusty), scraps of French, tiny bits of German and Irish. All my writing is in English, though.

Location: Southern Alberta, Canada. (Texas + Kansas + Colorado = Alberta, more or less.)

Other hobbies: Knitting, making jewelry, playing Dungeons and Dragons (and other tabletop games), singing, reading (obviously), learning stuff; playing cello, clarinet, and violin

Interests: Jewelry, gems, metalworking, fiber arts, queer issues and social justice, environmentalism, drinking quite a lot of tea (usually black; I like an assam, Ceylon, or breakfast blends, though Golden Snail absolutely slaps when I’m in the mood for it, and I love Earl Grey Cream as well)

Other internet profiles: *Website * Mailing list * Magpie Editing * Amazon * Tumblr * Mastodon *Facebook * Medium * Twitter  * OG Blog* Instagram * Paypal.me * Ko-fi

[justonemorechapternicercy]

Happy Birthday to my sweet little sibling 💙 @unbeknownstunknown I wish you all the best. I know you are going through a hard time, but you are loved, you are supported, and we are all so proud of you! I love you, sweetie! ❤️

He loved that man the moment he saw him. He was not a man then, just a young teenager, his slight shoulders carrying way too much, making him seem like somebody out of the legends. Like a hero of old, but better.

He loved him.

His black, messy hair reminded him of the darkest night, like the unending darkness in the Underworld. His eyes were the sea, not just the color, but the way it mirrored his soul; untamed, unpredictable, wild… Mesmerizing. If Nico didn’t know he was a demigod, he would have thought Percy was a siren, born to trap poor, unsuspecting fools, and devour them alive. He still might have been one.

Nobody could look away from the shining beacon he was. He grabbed everybody’s attention; no god, monster, mortal, or demigod was spared his unconscious spell.

Nico felt nervous around him. Thankfully, he didn’t become a stuttering mess, but he had to admit - the first impression he made, wasn’t the most stellar performance.

It was the behavior of a little kid, having his first crush on a real-life superhero.

Their interactions didn’t become easier, as time went by either.

Bianca left.

Percy promised.

Bianca died.

Nico left.

But Percy didn’t stop searching. And Nico didn’t stop loving. It was true: love and hate… they weren’t that far from each other. They weren’t the opposite of each other; they were each other’s complements.

He wanted to prove himself. He wanted to show Percy he could be there, standing next to him, side by side, be it in a battle, or at the altar. He might have been just a kid-

But he knew what he wanted.

Who he wanted.

He practiced. He traveled around the world, learning languages, fighting styles, and ways to help. Not his father - he should have never strayed away from Persephone, he was the reason Maria di Angelo died -, not the gods - they killed his mother. They killed his sister. They stole his life. -, not the demigods - they were hypocrites, easily turning on each other for a little bit of glory, for a little bit of recognition. Nico despised them. He wanted to kill them - but Percy.

The only person worth fighting for.

He killed monsters that were threatening Sally Jackson’s life. He gave clues on how to win. He fought. He suffered. He helped.

And Percy looked.

Nobody noticed that each look lingered just for a moment too long. Not the little mortal bitch who wanted to become part of something bigger so much that she willingly gave up on ever getting together with Percy. Not Athena’s spawn, the blond slut who had moon eyes for each heros of the camp, wanting to get closer to the gods and to eternal glory just by offering herself up to the traitorous asshole, to the punk whore, and now to Percy.

Nico’s Percy.

There were others. There were always others, anywhere Percy went. But Percy looked back, the ocean meeting with the abyss, the loyalty meeting with the obsession.

Nico always loved when their gazes touched, lingered.

He loved it even more when the pieces of his puzzle fell into their places, just like he planned.

Nobody had seen it coming. Nobody, except the Moirai, but kept their mouth shut. They loved when something unexpected happened; it made their boring, monotonous lives more entertaining.

The traitor had died. Nico made sure he got what he deserved in the afterlife - nobody who looked at Percy like that could get Elysium.

The war was won. They were praised, Hades was very smug about it. And Percy? Percy refused godhood.

He collapsed, instead. Into Nico’s waiting, protective, loving arms.

The smile on Nico’s face could have chilled the blood or ichor in anybody’s veins, as he stroked the back of the weeping older boy. Percy was clinging to him like he was the only one who could keep him sane, who could keep him together.

Nico wanted him just like that. Completely crushed. Depending on Nico. Ready to be remade.

It would have been really hard for Nico not to let his delighted smile out, as Percy leaned on him, on the only person who kept him alive because he wanted to keep Percy alive. Not the big hero. Not the son of Poseidon. Just Percy. The Percy, who kept clinging on him, begging him not to leave, not to run away ever again. Or if he did, only do it with Percy.

Nico had no trouble agreeing. He would never leave Percy’s side, never again.

“I won’t leave you, Percy,” he promised, whispering into the technically younger demigod’s ears.

He could feel the air on his neck as Percy breathed out, “Stay with me.”

“I’m staying.” And nobody could make him leave, ever again. Not his father, who wanted to make him his successor now that he was recognized by the Olympians. Not those fuckers, who should have died before the war ended. (They might still die before the night ends.) Not Camp Half-Blood, that could turn their back on their own in a heartbeat. And especially not the beings who wanted a piece of Percy Jackson.

Percy was his. Only his.

It was not as difficult to make Percy his. To make Percy trust Nico, to let him in, to believe him to be a good, loyal friend. The funny thing was, that Bianca’s death, the trauma, and the running away after it, made Percy even more trusting. He trusted Nico, when he said he wanted to forgive the past, and be friends. Because Percy wanted that. He wanted Nico just as much, as Nico wanted him. Only Nico was more honest to himself - about his plans, his needs, his obsession, and his possession.

Tiny touches bonding them together ever since that night at the fire escape. A tap on the shoulder. A little bite of the offered cake. A bumping of shoulders. A pretended falling asleep on Percy’s lap… They were torturous, but effective, as Percy opened up a little bit more after each touch. The little touch-starved Sea Prince… So easy to manipulate. So easy to gain his trust. So easy to make him Nico’s.

“Can I stay?” Percy sniffled, his body relaxing in Nico’s arms.

The other demigod bit back his first reaction.

“You can stay. Or, we can both leave, if you want to. Japan is classic. Mexico is exciting. The Philippines have delicious chocolate. Alaska is okay this time of the year - and most importantly, no god could bother us there.”

Percy pulled away from Nico. Not completely, their arms still held them close together, but his searching eyes met with Nico’s steady ones.

“Are you sure about it?”

“That I want you with me? That I can take us away from the craziness of our parents, and start a new life somewhere else? Yes.” He gave Percy a smile he hoped was calming and kind, a smile that made the Sea Prince feel safe with him.

“But…”

Nico had answers for each and every one of his concerns. Percy didn’t even need to voice them. “You deserve to have some time for yourself. It is your reward from the gods, and a reward from CHB for saving them. And as for your mother? She is doing okay now. Estelle and Paul will keep her company, a normal, non-lethal one,” he said sweetly as if he really just wanted to calm Percy down, and not to sever his last link to New York. He knew all about Percy’s insecurities, after all.

It wasn’t like Sally Blofis deserved her son. She could have her “normal” husband and “normal” daughter, and leave Nico’s Percy alone.

“I… You are right,” Percy sighed. Nico could hear the heartbreak in that sigh. Good.

“We can leave now, while the others are celebrating. Nobody would notice it. We could even hold a little mourning for the deceased,” Nico offered. He wanted nothing more than to just dance on those idiots’ graves, and fuck on Castellan’s, but he knew Percy still cared.

That was one of the most delicious things in Percy. That he cared.

“You… you sure I am not a bother?” His Percy asked.

The younger demigod squeezed Percy’s arms, not painfully, just to register the feeling. “No. Never.”

And he meant it.

Percy was his, after all.

A moment silence. Two. Three.

Then, “Okay.”

One word, but it meant the world to Nico.

He would still raze the Olyumpus to the ground, so nobody could bother them anymore, ever. He would still kill all of those who dared to want to claim Percy as theirs.

But then he would go home, back to Percy’s waiting arms.

Nico could feel Percy’s heartbeat against his chest, his own silent, almost corpse-like. Percy’s heart was beating only for him.

He pulled the older boy back, making the slightly smaller young adult lay his head on Nico’s shoulder.

“You can relax now,” Nico promised. And Percy did just that.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Heroes

It was a sweltering afternoon when I decided to kill my friends. 

I was waiting for them at the back gate to our school, idly flipping through the news as I lounged against the wall. 

It was the same as usual. The 'Vile Villain', Lord Subjugator, had begun causing chaos in the city, and our resident superhero trio, the Rangers, had to step in and save the day. Lame.

Call me odd, but I'd never liked supers. They were always so self-righteous, pretending to be so morally superior and perfect. They acted as though their vigilante justice was a gift rather than a pain in the ass, and that we all ought to kiss their feet.

Jeannine popped up in the corner of my vision, and I greeted her with a smile. But her normally sunny face was set in a frown. I turned to quiet Cel and broad, athletic Vic, who were equally solemn. "Guys? What's going on?"

Jean sighed. "Perhaps it's best to tell you at your place. I think you're going to need a seat for this," she admitted.

What had happened? Had they been expelled? Had Mrs Leo found out about the chalk incident? Had someone's parents died? "Okay," I said, patting her on the arm reassuringly.

The walk home passed in disturbing silence. Vic twitched at every little move, Cel sulked and Jean strode on with grim determination. 

I had known these guys since we were in diapers. We kept no secrets between ourselves. I knew them like the back of my hand, and I knew of nothing that could have them so spooked.

I led my best friends into the house, only to find my parents staring at me sternly. "Alright, what the hell's going on?" 

My mother, still beautiful in her fifth decade, shook her head sadly. "There's something important you need to know, Mara," she said.

"We're the Rangers!" Cel blurted the words out, and I stared at her in blank shock.

"Is this a joke? You're kidding me, right?" I gave her an incredulous smile and turned back to my mother. "What's the actual news?"

My mother's lips quirked downwards. "We're the Rangers. Well, to be precise, they're the Rangers and your father and I are their auxiliaries."

Misunderstanding my expression, she added, "That means we help out when they need extra manpower."

I didn't move, but I could feel anger bubbling in my chest, thick as molasses. They had to be pulling my leg. My parents, my best friends, were all supers? I waited for them to stop joking.

"Mara," my father said patronisingly, "it was for your own good. If you knew when you were younger, you'd only feel jealous that they had things you didn't. And it would make you a target! We were just trying to keep you safe."

For my own good, I thought. Like I didn't know well enough to decide for myself. Like I was some sort of child or pet, to be coddled and lied to. I could see it now, how my parents always deferred to them, how my friends were always babying me. Had they only befriended me because of my parents? Were they the children my parents always wanted?

I met Jean's gaze and forced a smile. "So, you must be Yellow Ranger, then?" The words practically choked me with their false friendliness. I wanted to scream at them, to curse them out. How long had they known? Had I been nothing but a pet to them this whole time? Was my whole life a lie?

Still I forced a sickeningly sweet smile when Jean nodded enthusiastically. "Cos I'm sunny and cheerful, you know? And Cel's blue cos she's the calm one. And of course that makes Vic the Red, cos he's passionate." She heaved a sigh of relief. 

"I'm so glad you're taking this well," Vic told me. He had the softest heart; how could he have betrayed me like this? Where had his empathy gone? "Your father was afraid you wouldn't be sensible. But we know you. You're so understanding." 

Understanding? Yes, I understood. I understood they had lied to me. Sensible? The only sensible response was to scream my lungs out. But I held my ground. They saw me as a fool, a pet they kept around out of… What, pity? Amusement? To affirm their egos?

And now I supposed they expected me to fawn over them. Even as the rage in my chest built to a steaming, broiling cauldron, I smiled. "So," I said, feigning awe, "Why'd you decide to tell me now?"

Cel grasped my forearms. Her fingers burned with falsehoods, but I matched her expression like the pet they thought I was. "Because we found the Subjugator's hideout, and we're going to stop him tomorrow. And you know, we were kinda hoping you'd celebrate with us. Bake us a cake, since your food's so good. I just want you to be a part of our festivities, even though you're not a super like us."

A super like them. There it was again, the damn supers thinking themselves superior to me.

Did they think I was a good dog, to run about at their feet, adore them, play fetch and roll over? Well, they were about to find out that this dog was all bite and no bark. 

No, this dog wasn't going to give them a warning bark at all. This dog would play nice until it sunk its teeth into their traitorous super flesh. "Of course! But I'm curious: Where's his hideout? Surely it must have been really well hidden?" 

My mother laughed. "Can you believe it was hidden in plain sight all along? Right in the skyscraper over there. He's listed under Evil Inc. It was like he was waving himself right under our noses." She shook her head. "Honestly, I'm embarrassed that we didn't see it sooner. Even a normie would have been able to catch him."

Normie. The word sent a paroxysm of pure lividity through my veins, like a shot of adrenaline. Of course supers had a degrading nickname for the people they supposedly protected. I let out a hollow laugh, bile rising at the back of my throat. I'll kill you all, I promised myself. I'll make you pay for your lies.

But I went into the kitchen like a good little girl and began taking out the ingredients for a cake. "Why don't you guys go and plan your big event? I'll just be here baking. I'm sure it was a pain to keep everything from me all those years ago," I said casually, even as my hands itched for the knife lying tantalisingly within reach. 

"Oh, it's not all that hard for us supers to hide things, what with our x-ray vision and invisibility powers," my mother said cheerily. "Maybe someday your father can take you flying! Now, wouldn't that be fun?"

Her words hit me like a metal slug to the chest. Of course I couldn't kill a super, let alone five of them. They had super-speed, super-strength, super-whatever. Anything I could do, they could do better. If I wanted to take them down (and gods I did, I wanted them to know they weren't the all powerful nigh-gods they thought they were), I had to be smart.

I took out my sieve and placed it on a metal bowl. In went two hundred grams of flour and a teaspoon of baking powder, a recipe repeated into muscle memory. Preheated the oven to a hundred eighty. Quietly, bitterly, I tapped the sieve. It thwacked satisfyingly but failed to drown out the excited voices just outside my door.

I knew what they thought. I was just a normie, what could I contribute? No, better to simply give me a minor chore to look cute on the news when they discovered me. That was the truth. I was just one little toy dog to trot out for the press to coo over, one more example of the stellar kindness of the supers. I slapped the sieve with renewed fury.

So the press wouldn't help me. They were too busy kissing the ass of my lying traitors. The police? No, they were worse than useless. They were grateful that the supers were doing their job for them. I couldn't do it on my own, of course. So that left just one thing.

Lord Subjugator. He would help me. And I didn't care if he was a genocidal psychopath with a fetish for mass enslavement, so long as he brought those bastards down. They thought I was harmless, that lying to me didn't matter? They thought I was a toy to take out of my box and put back in as they pleased, a little diversion from their 'true' lives. They would be proven wrong.

I pulled two eggs out of the fridge. I knew where he was. I could look for him. I smashed their shells against another bowl, picturing my parents' heads shattering, their selfish super brains leaking out. 

I didn't bother bringing out the electric whisk. I had too much pent up resentment, poured into the whirring of my whisk like it was another ingredient.

No, I didn't care about good or evil, law or chaos. I just hated them for lying to me. I added in the milk, and the butter. The mixture turned a frothy yellow. Melted Yellow Ranger, I thought vindictively, and folded in the flour. 

It was done, and all too fast. I poured the batter into an oiled pan. That went into the oven. 17 minutes.

Outside, I heard them discussing their responses to the press. The idea of introducing me to them. Discussing me within earshot, as though I weren't intelligent enough to understand. I dumped the bowls, whisk and spatula into the basin and began scrubbing them. 

"Smells wonderful," my father said, ruffling my hair. I resisted the urge to snap at him. "We ordered some pizza, come eat with us when you're done." He began to walk out of the room, then turned around. "You know, most kids dream of being friends with the Rangers. I know it's a big shock, but you should be more grateful, Mara sweetie. We're doing a great service to the city."

I didn't want to be friends with the Rangers. I wanted to be friends with Vic, Cel and Jean. I didn't want to be in their shadow, pattering after them and offering up baked treats. I wanted to be their equal. But I didn't say that either, only continued scrubbing the bowl.

There was a veiled warning there, however. I had to be more convincing. I plastered on a grin. As the final bowl was doused in water, I heard the doorbell ring. It was the pizza, of course. The very idea of eating with those traitors made me want to hurl, but I forced myself out of my little kitchen-sanctum. 

Settling down in a corner of my dining room, I had never felt so much like a stranger in my own home. The pizza tasted empty, like soggy cardboard. The buzz of my traitor-friends' voices scratched at my ears. 

Barely forcing down two pieces of pizza, I dashed for the cake when it was done, grateful to be free from the inane lies of those bastards, who persisted in pretending they had not betrayed me. It hurt, a hollow gnawing anger-sorrow that made me feel cold, alone and helpless.

I wanted to grab the cake with my bare hands, to feel the burn, to imagine the pain was theirs and not mine. But I put on my gloves and emptied the tin onto a cooling rack.

"Mum, Dad, guys," I said, the words sour and rotten on my tongue, "I'm gonna take a walk while the cake rests. See y'all later." 

And then I was out the door. The evening gust of wind was cooling on my face. It whipped my clothes, tossed my hair about, and blew away my sorrows. 

I wanted to be picked up and carried away by it, to leave these liars who wore my beloved family's faces and ate at my table. I didn't know what they got out of lying to me my whole life. Now that they were out of sight, the rage in my veins had congealed to loss. 

Nonetheless, my grief changed nothing. They, those bastards who thought themselves the arbiters of my life, had to go. I pulled out my bike, a reminder of all the great moments my friends-who-were-never-my-friends had with me. 

Tears welled up in my eyes as I rode down the street, headed for the building where the Subjugator resided. I wanted to run back into the arms of my parents, to confide in my friends. But they were dead to me. "Dead, and six feet under," I told myself, and nearly believed it.

I mean, what was I supposed to do? Roll over like a good dog and spend the rest of my days at their heels, forever lesser than them? No, I wasn't that sort. I was the star student, the winner of competitions, the perfect kid. I was better than them. I was the best, and if I wasn't, I would be. The idea of everyone around me being supers; the idea of them being better than I could ever be; I couldn't deal with it. I just could not.

So I pedalled faster, pumping my legs, swerving around curbs, ignoring red lights and cars with reckless abandon. A part of me wondered if I could just die here, flying down the streets to betray those who betrayed me. I couldn't close my eyes and pretend nothing had changed, but perhaps I could close my eyes permanently. 

I didn't, in case you were wondering. I made it all the way to the home of Evil Inc. and parked my bike with a sense of resignation. 

The skyscraper hung ominously above me as I walked into the lobby. A bored receptionist raised an eyebrow as I went by, but said nothing. Apparently she wasn't paid enough to stop suspicious teenagers in their school uniforms. 

I stared at the directory, scrolling until I found Evil Inc on the list. #66-6. Of course it was, I thought, stifling a laugh. 

The lifts were arranged neatly, and opened with sleek smoothness. Their innards were lined with mirrors, creating a dozen clones of me still in a greying school uniform. We stood together in silent solidarity as the lift glid up, arms crossed, ever so slightly hunched in anxiety.

When the doors opened, I reluctantly left my mirror images behind. It had been comforting to see them by my side, the friends I never had, the ones who wouldn't leave me. But they did, as all friends were wont to do.

As I stood in the lobby of Evil Inc., looking at the glossy signs, I realised my mother was right on one account: How the hell had anyone missed this?

It screamed evil genius with an temerity that almost amounted to insanity. The jet black linoleum floor, with its streaks of blood red, was by far the worst offender, though the metal inventions, often spiky and threatening, gave it a run for its money. I would have been scared, or at least intimidated, but the overall effect was too frivolous.

"Hello? Anybody in here? I've got some information that-"

"Shut!" The Subjugator walked out, waving a long finger at me. He looked exactly like a stereotypical villain, with slicked back dark hair and a monocle. The overall effect was surprisingly handsome, in a lanky, well dressed way. "I know what you're here for, Mara, daughter of the Ranger Auxiliaries. You understand, don't you?"

I paused, thinking through all that I knew of him. Then it occurred to me. "Yes," I said, "I think I understand. This- This whole evil thing, it's just a facade. You're like me. You hate the supers." The curling smile on his lips told me all I needed. "Was it the press who made up all the crap about you, or the supers?"

He shrugged. "Whoever made it up, they made sure to make me as vile as possible. They'll make one out of you too, when they find out you've defected." He gestured. "Come in, child of the supers. Come in and leave your sadness behind. This is a place of revenge, not regret."

I followed right on his heels. The inner rooms of Evil Inc abandoned all pretence at villainy, adopting a bland, beige palette. "What made you do this?" I meant: Who betrayed you?

"Your father did, of course," the Subjugator said. "I was trying to analyse the genetics of the supers, work out what made them different. So I took his samples, us being the best of friends, and mine, as controls." He snorted. "Some controls they were. It took a while to realise that my machine was working just fine, and your father had ruined my experiment with his faulty super genes! Of course, he and his precious hero friends silenced me and threw my life's work away in the name of 'the greater good', to protect their identities. Truth is, they think a super's life is worth more than a normal person's."

Thinking back to their treatment of me, I nodded. "We're just dogs to them. Roll over, sit and beg for them. That's all they think us capable of doing."

The Subjugator smiled again. "You truly are a kindred spirit. Let me show you around. Perhaps I shall find myself in need of an assistant." 

I gave him a hopeful grin in return. "I was wondering something. If you knew who the Rangers were all along, why haven't you stopped them yet?"

He paused just before the door, turning around with a confused expression. "I don't know who the Rangers truly are. Why would you say that- Unless?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

I nodded. "My closest friends, believe it or not. Celia Naretza, Jeannine Vera, and Victor Lee. Blue, Yellow and Red respectively."

The look of sympathy that came over his face told me that I had chosen the right confidante. "So those closest to your heart are supers, then? I can only imagine how much it must sting, to be trapped in their shadow." He rested a hand on my shoulder. "I bet they told you because they thought you insignificant. We'll prove them wrong. Completely, utterly wrong."

The sudden ferocity in his gaze startled me, but it kindled a kindred fury within my chest, rewarming the sluggish loathing that had settled on my ride out. "Bet," I said, and grabbed his other hand to shake it.

The Subjugator nodded. "In that case, call me Dale," he told me. "That's my true name."

"You already know who I am, Dale," I said, mostly just to try the name out. Its plainess sounded odd on such an audacious man. "So are we going in there?" I put my hand on the door handle that led even deeper into Evil Inc.

"Of course," he said, opening the door to reveal yet another bland hallway. "I'll bring you straight to my invention room. You can tell me about the Rangers there."

The invention room turned out to be dominated by a laser, with various tools scattered about. It was huge, practically the size of my school gym, but possessed only a single chair. I perched on it while Dale made us tea with a small, well used boiler in the corner of the room. "I know coffee is more typical, but I've never gotten accustomed to the bitterness," he confided, sliding a chipped cup over to me. "So, tell me, little Mara, who are the Rangers?"

"They're my classmates," I began, not willing to call those traitors friends, "and are all in the 10th Grade of Bleugarde Secondary. Victor is on the basketball team, Celia plays the flute in the school band, and Jeannine is a member of the theatre club. They do decently in school, but I've always gotten higher than them. We met when I was 4 years old. My family had just moved into the house in between Jeannine's and Vic's, with Celia's just across the street. We all started 1st grade together." I caught myself abbreviating Victor's name and swallowed. I had been closest to him, after all. His betrayal stung the most.

"Their parents? Pets? Anything we could use against them?" Dale scribbled a few notes on a scrap of paper and looked up. "Personal information is good and all, but I'm going to need their weaknesses."

I paused, thinking. "Victor's dad lost his job recently, and Celia's mother cheated on her husband a couple years back, so they're divorced. Apart from that? Nothing. They're a pretty normal bunch, if you don't know about their powers. In any case, I doubt you've got enough time to stop them before they attack tomorrow."

He froze. "They're attacking tomorrow? And you didn't see fit to tell me earlier?" His voice cracked, though with horror or rage, I was not sure.

"I- I thought you already knew," I said, instantly defensive. "You said you knew why I came, so I thought you knew about it all." Was I already going to lose him, so soon? 

He sighed. "I suppose that was my mistake. At least we found out now, rather than tomorrow morning. As it stands, our timeline has just been shortened significantly. I hope you're as smart as you claim, because this stuff isn't for fools." He didn't sound particularly angry with me, only resigned. "If they're attacking first thing tomorrow, there's no time to recall my staff, not without alerting them. Which leaves just you and me. Never thought I'd be leading an attack on the Rangers alongside a fifteen year old."

I coughed awkwardly. "I'm only 13. I skipped two years, took the placement test early. My mother always said it was good of the others to look after me. I had thought it was because they were older, but I suppose it was truly because they were supers and I wasn't." I hated them for that too. I would have rather been mercilessly picked on than be sheltered by those who thought less of me.

Dale shook his head ruefully. "This is a disaster. An absolute disaster, but we shall make the best of it." He put his cup down and walked over to the laser. "This is honestly all you'll need to know about. It's my second best work— The first, of course, being the one I was never allowed to publish." We shared a moment of bitter silence in the name of everything the supers had destroyed. "I call her Athena. She's quite simple, honestly. An honest-to-badness disintegration ray. Voice activated. Just say 'execute', wait a minute for it to power up, then say b-e-g-i-n. Works best if you yell, of course." 

I watched, fascinated, as the laser slowly whirred to life. It was so subtle, I would hardly have realised it was activated had he not told me of it. "That's one quiet machine," I told him. "It's amazing."

Dale grinned at me, the expression handsome enough to make me blush. "I know," he said, sighing in delight. "I thought about flashiness, but there's just style in having it this way. It autotargets supers, too!"

He regarded his inventions with the pride of a father. "In my earlier prototypes, it heated up a great deal. A little liquid cooling, piped to the air conditioning vents outside, fixed that. My secretary always said she knew when I power it up, because we end up paying a fortune in electrical fees." 

"Wait, how did you get the money to fund all this?" It did not appear as though a poor inventor could possibly finance such hefty equipment and an office in the central business district. "Are you rich?"

"Rich? Heavens, no. I'm afraid the truth is rather more dreary. I sell my inventions to munitions companies. This darling is one of the few I kept for myself. It would have made a fortune, but I cannot bear to part with it. Perhaps, when I invent something greater, I will find it within me to sell my precious away." He rested his hand on my shoulder. "So, Mara, what do you make of this? Of the scourge of Metropolis?"

I shrugged. "You're cool. Cooler than I thought some crusty old dude holed up in his office making lasers would be." I giggled at his feigned outrage. "And it's nice to have a friend who I know isn't a super."

"It is, isn't it? I can't stand how well they blend in with us proper folk. That's why I kept my genetics test around. All of my employees take it, so I can root out all the supers," he told me. 

I nodded my approval. "Thank goodness for that. I can't imagine-" My words were cut off as the door slammed open, revealing my traitor family and friends, accompanied by a horde of armed police. Dale thrust me behind him, as though he wanted to protect me from them.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. Supers," Dale said, reverting to his facade of the over-the-top villain. "How can I help you?"

"You can start by returning my daughter, you bastard. Don't drag her into our feud," my father snarled. 

"I came here of my own will! I'm not some dog for you to control, and I won't spend the rest of my life waiting on you and the Rangers!" The words escaped my mouth in a yell, far more whiny than I would have liked. "You'll have to drag my cold, dead corpse home."

"Why?" Victor still looked bewildered. "What did we do wrong?"

"Wrong?" I practically shrieked the words. "You're supers! You lied to me, this whole time. Was any of it ever real? Was I just some fucking pet to you? Did you even care about me?"

Celia wept. "No, Mars, we never meant to hurt you. Mum told me I had to keep everything under wraps, and your parents said not to tell you. Please, come back to us."

For a moment, I almost believed them. "Don't ever call me Mars again. You aren't my friends. You aren't anything except a bunch of traitorous supers. Dale's my friend now." I grabbed his hand and stepped shoulder to shoulder with him. Well, it was more shoulder to chest, but the thought was what counted.

"Are you insane? Kid, get back! What if they shoot?" Dale pulled me in closer, trying to get me behind him.

"Then we die, together. I'm done being their pet. I am my own person, and I will not cow to them," I told him. "Kill me or leave me be!"

The police deferred to my parents, who looked increasingly distraught. Of course they did. The PR fallout from this would be terrible. My father shook his head sadly. "Mara, did we not pay you enough attention? Is that what this is? A cry for help? We've tolerated enough selfishness from you. Come home, now." The force put into his voice made me flinch, but I stood my ground.

"No. You heard me. I'd rather die." I lifted my chin. "Kill me or leave me be."

"This is all your fault, Dale. You corrupted her," my mother snarled, her mascara streaking down her face. "You let me daughter go, this instant."

Dale, bless his heart, shook his head. "She's not some toy. She's a person, and people belong together, not surrounded by your kind."

My mother's eyes went wide, as though she had been shot. I could see the murder in her eyes, and threw myself in front of Dale as she grabbed the nearest gun. But I had forgotten: Supers had super speed and super aim.

He never stood a chance, toppling to the floor like a ragdoll, with me clutching him in my arms. "You killed him," I whispered, staring at the hole in his forehead in disbelief. "You killed him. He was my friend!" All friends left me, I had thought earlier, and Dale was no different. We had a million futures together, as friends, as student and mentor, as partners, and it was all gone in the blink of an eyes. 

"You." I stumbled to my feet, the last pieces of my plan falling into place. "This is all your fault. You supers are a blight on humanity. All of you." My lips quirked into a smile. "Begin."

"What?" Jeannine shook her head. "You've gone bonkers, Mara. We're people just like yo-" Athena's laser sliced through her, swift, silent and deadly. Her severed head fell like a stone, and the laser instantly moved on the Victor. He had no time to register his death either, the only mercy I was willing to give him. 

It came as a pleasant shock to watch Athena decimate the bastards who had turned my life upside down. One by one, they fell, with only my mother seeing her death come at her. She died looking as betrayed as I felt. I took two steps forward, until I stared at the police. "Scram, before I decide to point my laser at your lot."

They didn't wait a second, fleeing like the cowards they were. "Good," I murmured, once they had left. "I didn't know how to train it on them anyways." I turned to Dale and smoothed back a stray hair. "I'm sorry, my friend. You don't deserve to die alongside super scum. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

I took a deep breath. "The world will come to rue the day it angered The Bitterness, and the supers will quake in their lycra suits. For I will exact my revenge, and it shall be long and agonizing."

I strode out to the glass window. It had a wonderful view of Metropolis, the sprawling city of the supers. I opened the window, letting the wind run through my messy, bloodsoaked hair. I inhaled the breeze. Then I screamed.

"Down with the supers!"

[leewritestoomuch]

Hi

so here's my Request:Senku(Superhero from another planet) Saves Reader but some lil fluff and...more angst!

btw do you making headcanon?

Hi! Yes, I do write headcanons. If you’ve got any, you can send them in. And thank you for the request.

Superhero!Senku x gender neutral!Reader

If y’all have ever seen Big Hero 6, y’all know how they aren’t actually superhuman but they’re geniuses who created crazy tech and became “super” heroes. That’s how I’m handling this.

I don’t this is exactly what you were thinking, but I felt this might write better. I hope you don’t mind.

WARNINGS: Ryusui. (Also death, but not him)

“What do they call them again?” Your roommate asks from the kitchen as she coats all the dishes oil to clean them. As you watch her pick up a strangely shaped sponge she’d made herself, soaking it in the oil, and and washing the dishes over, you click your tongue and sit up a bit.

“Humans.” You chime. “And did you know they wash their dishes in something they call soap? I hear it’s less greasy.”

“And how do you know this?” She asks, throwing the dishes in a basket that sits on the table in front of you.

“I got into contact with one.” You say, shrugging, but she drops the dish she’s washing. You flinch when it slams down onto and shatters against the metallic floor, knowing she’ll reprimand you like a mother. Here mothers leave their child when they’re young, so sometimes the less mature ones get mothered by an older friend. At least, that was your case, and to your understanding, it’s not uncommon.

“They’re real?” She asks, turning around to face you. “I thought they were some sort of long tale our mothers tell us when we’re 6 before they leave.”

“Nope, they’re real.”

“Are you getting bullied by those kids down the street again? You know they’re in 3rd school. They’re just bored. Probably have nothing better to do that humiliate you by pretending to be some human.” She sighs, rolling her eyes as she begins to pick up the shards of the plate.

“They’re not nearly smart enough to be him.” You chuckle, shaking your head. From her perspective, you look like some lovesick fool as you smile and stare off.

“He’s smart? Hmm, I heard the humans weren’t all that smart. Is he cute?” She snorts, finishing up the dishes.

“I haven’t ever seen him.”

“Then how do you know he’s real?”

“Those neighborhood brats don’t know the theory of relativity from a Hargaw.” You shake your head, looking out the window.

“They know what a Hargaw is, so I think they would. You can’t mistake a theory for a rodent.” She raises an eyebrow as she walks over to pick up the basket and put it outside to dry quicker.

“You get my point.” You groan, laying your head on the table below you.

“I don’t see the point you were trying to make, no.”

…

You had never thought you’d meet the human you fell hopelessly in love with, if you were being honest. Now, as you run onto a spaceship meant for anybody below the age of 40, you think about how wishing to meet him might have doomed your planet. They always told you to be careful what you wish for. It was a superstition, you knew that.

And even now, you could call it a coincidence, but you can’t help but feel guilty. You get what you wanted, but lots of people will die. The meteors in the area break through the barrier your friend had told you about, which Senku called an atmosphere. Now you understand meteors and comets are the name for those rocks. He said they’re debris from space, and they do damage.

When one big enough to destroy a planet is hurling towards your home planet, you can’t help but remind yourself of the terms. You like what he taught you, but you wish his teachings could save people, but you, nor him, even knew this was coming.

When the spaceship got to the infamous planet called Earth, yours crashed in the middle of a freezing forest. It was colder than you’ve ever felt and the forest seemed nearly endless. It seemed hopeless, but your phone had even better service to contact Senku.

You were cold, wet from the snow, and everybody on your ship had died from the impact. How you were alive, you didn’t know.

It took about a day or so, you think since you’re not too familiar with Earth days, but Senku showed up in a small plane.

“You look different than I imagined.” You say chuckling, still shivering violently.

“We can talk later, you’re gonna freeze out here.” He says quickly, gesturing for you to get in the plane. Just then, you notice a man behind the wheel in the front. He looks back and meets eyes with you, winking at you from below his unnecessarily large hat. You don’t give much of a reaction, just a small wave as you hop up into the plane.

When the plane takes off, Senku begins to talk. “So Y/N, why are you here? You didn’t fill me in.”

“You remember those things you talked about. Uh… metaphors?”

“Meteors, but yes.”

“A giant one hit my planet.”

…

Time passes and Senku has been helping you deal with guilt. And he even told you about how his planet, some years ago, was turned to stone. And how they lost a lot. It’s been helping, but you think about your friend often, since you don’t know where she is.

He’s been trying to convince you to help him build a Time Machine, despite your lack of knowledge over that kind of thing. You convince him to build a suit like iron man, however. And eventually he perfects it.

He doesn’t understand your fascination with Iron Man, but he doesn’t mind the attention. And the challenge was fun, anyways.

Somehow you convince him to go hiking. How? He doesn’t know.

“We didn’t have mountains on my planet.” You say, watching your steps in your new hiking boots he got you as you step on dirt and rock.

“This isn’t a mountain, it’s a hill.” He corrects flatly.

“Oh, it’s a big hill.” You say, looking around, fascinated.

“Yeah, hills can get pretty big,” He says, “but to be a mountain, the landform has to reach 1,000 feet.”

You nod, a little lost because you barely understand what a feet is. You begin to hum as you look around at your surroundings before you gasp.

“Did you bring the iron man suit?”

“Sort of. I have Friday on like speed dial practically. Her device is attached to my wrist.” He says, holding up his wrist to show the black bracelet, the red dot glowing. “The suit is nearby.”

“So it’s in the… car?” You say, forgetting the word for a moment but getting it within mere seconds. He smiles.

Neither of you are paying attention, but the ground below you both cracks. And soon, your conversation is cut short by a free fall. You can’t look back to see it, but you know soon you’ll hit the ground below. And you can’t find him, though you hope he didn’t fall. It all happened so quick, you don’t know.

The wind whistles loudly, roaring in your ears as it pushes at you. Then, instead of ground, you feel cold metal grab you from the air, landing back on the ground safely.

“I told you hiking was a bad idea.” He says as he puts you done. He doesn’t say much, or cling to you out of relief that he saved you, but you can tell by his eyes he’s relieved. And he was definitely scared. He quickly decides you’re both going home.

I feel like the writing got worse as I went, but I really hope you liked it. It’s a different take on the request, so I hope you didn’t mind!

[lightdusk96]

Number 7

For the first few of my entries on Complete Monsters, we’ll explore the worlds of superhero comics for the most despicable villains I have seen.

Now, I know what you’re thinking, and no, The Joker won’t show up here. Because I found two people who are actually WORSE than him. And we’ll focus on the first one here.

The most evil person in Marvel Comics, the embodiment of oppression and tyranny, the counter to the pure moral paragon that is Captain America...

The Red Skull.

Do I even have to go into detail why he’s evil? He’s a freaking Nazi! One handpicked and trained by Adolf himself, even!

He’s one of the very few people who will make even the most prideful villains work together to stop, not only because he’s that much of a threat, but because they just hate him that damn much.

(WARNING, THHE FOLLOWING SECTIONS ARE NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART. DISCRETION IS ADVISED.)

Murder, torture, unethical experimentation on human subjects, if there’s a war crime you can think of, he’s done it.

Can’t kill his nemesis Captain America? Why, he’ll just dress up people as him and kill them from sheer spite!

He once graverobbed Charles Xavier's (Leader of the X-Men, powerful telepath) dead body and stole his brain to take his powers. He planted his consciousness inside Captain America’s body and took it over to not just survive, but to use it to hurt and kill people. He also tried to implant his brain into the unborn baby of Captain America’s lover Sharon Carter, but it failed, resulting in Sharon losing the baby.

Taking over the countries of Latveria and Genosha for a brief period of time each, where he made life for the Latverians and the mutants living there respectively a living hell, with concentration camps and all the delightful things his kind do.

And he’s a scumbag in his personal life too. After emotionally and physically abusing a woman while he was in hiding, he had her give birth to his child. The mother died giving birth to his daughter, Sinthea. And the bastard proceeds to spit on the dead woman’s corpse and then try to DROWN HIS INFANT DAUGHTER TO DEATH. Because he wanted a son.

For God’s sake, he’s so vile that even JOKER refused to work with him!

TOO EVIL. FOR J O K E R

Unlike many villains, who lose their “edge”, their threat level, as it were, The Red Skull does not. His status as... well, a Nazi, instantly puts people in-universe and in real life on edge. Because they know exactly what he is. And so does he. When it comes to bad, the Red Skull is in a class all by himself.

“His eyes, unfathomably empty, devoid of all compassion... all humanity... No one has eyes like that... no one! All these months I've lived in a fool's paradise, refusing to believe his claim to be the real Red Skull, refusing to believe that my greatest enemy had found a way to cheat death... but he has. The Red Skull lives... God help us all.”

[senadimell]

Many unformulated thoughts about The Scarlet Pimpernel, but one key point about the core relationship that was really striking to me:

It was never Percy’s intelligence that Marguerite was attracted to. It was the fact that he was utterly devoted to her.

So there’s a line in the book that says something to the effect of “she’d never been in love before and didn’t think it was something that would happen to her. She figured she was just not a person capable of loving.” But then Percy shows up and adores her, and she doesn’t necessarily reciprocate right away, but she enjoys being loved and goes along with things.

Importantly, Marguerite is established as extremely intelligent from the beginning. Percy is...not. Even before he leans into foppish shallowness, people are willing to believe he’s not sharp. There’s a discussion of his mother and Sir Percy inheriting ‘madness’ that suggests people are willing to believe he has an intellectual disability, though obviously there’s different terminology being used given the time period.

While Percy turns out to be an intellectual match for his wife, it’s not his intelligence that Marguerite falls in love with. She doesn’t bemoan how clever he used to be—she laments how he used to love her.

This is important.

Marguerite thinks he cannot comprehend how she was entrapped into betraying people to death, and while at least some of this belief in his slow-mindedness may have developed after the fact, it was still rooted in a sincere belief that he was unable to comprehend the situation that she was in, and his inability to understand broke his love for her because he believes her to be a murderer. However, while she does grow disillusioned with his foolish behavior and apparent lack of intellect, she’s not mourning the intelligent man who courted her. She’s mourning a man, perhaps a simple man, but an honest one who she thought she could grow to love.

As for Percy, his falling-out with Marguerite happens because he had to find out how about her role in an execution from other people, and then when he turned to her for an explanation, she offered none. He loved her and he hoped for some emotional intimacy or confidence in return, but instead, she closed herself off and he’s hurt and offended.

Then it all goes downhill, because as he closes himself off and cultivates an overly foolish reputation, she starts to hurt him in the hopes that it will provoke some emotional reaction. If he can’t love her, maybe he can hate her (which is cruel, ridiculous logic but pretty human). Percy responds to this by hiding every scrap of emotion and never rising to the bait, always allowing her to make a fool of him, and never fighting back, and in private, he goes to the aid of French nobility without even dreaming of confiding in his wife. Meanwhile, she snipes at him and secretly despairs until she is truly trapped and finds herself utterly without confidante.

Why does this matter? Because the Scarlet Pimpernel is a romantic superhero that all the women love. If someone falls in love with Superman while being a-okay trashing Clark Kent, it’s going to be hard to accept that love as genuine. It’s really important to the story that Marguerite falls in love with Percy again before she ever realizes he’s the Scarlet Pimpernel and before she realizes how clever he actually is.

“Rather did I speak of a time when you loved me still! and I...oh! I was vain and frivolous; your wealth and position allured me: I married you, hoping in my heart that your great love for me would beget in me a love for you...but, alas!”

and then, later on:

The lazy, good-natured face looked strangely altered. Marguerite, excited as she was, could see that the eyes were no longer languid, the mouth no longer good humored and inane. A curious look of intense passion seemed to glow from beneath his drooping lids, the mouth was tightly closed, the lips compressed, as if the will alone held that surging passion in check.

Marguerite Blakeney was, above all, a woman, with all a woman’s fascinating foibles, all a woman’s most lovable sins. She knew in a moment that for the past few months she had been mistake: that this man who stood here before her, cold as a statue, when her musical voice struck upon his ear, loved her, as he had loved her a year ago: that his passion might have been dormant, but that it was there, as strong, as intense, as overwhelming, as when first her lips met his in one long, maddening kiss. Pride had kept him from her, and, woman-like, she meant to win back that conquest from which had been hers before. Suddenly it seemed to her that the only happiness life could every hold for her again would be in feeling that man’s kiss once more upon her lips.

Percy does happen to be the intellectual equal to his wife. But that’s not how he wooed her. 

I guess the really important thing to me here is that Marguerite was really awful to Percy, and she realizes it and regrets it, and tries to make amends before she ever realizes her husband is a dashing superhero. Heck, she asks for help protecting her brother and believes he'll be able to make things okay even before learning of his secret identity. She’s willing to love him even when he’s still slow Sir Percy Blakeney. It’s not his intellect or lack thereof that offends her, but their total lack of emotional intimacy (that started with her), and she’s willing to overcome the gulf between them by being vulnerable first.

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

I just reached 700 followers, which is insane, and I wanted to do something special. So I've decided to do a celebration writing challenge! Below are some song lyrics from my top 10 favorite albums as prompts and a list of the Top Gun: Maverick pilots.

If you would like to participate in the challenge, please send me an ask with the prompt and the pilot you would like to go with it, write up a fic with at least 700 words, and submit it back to my blog by January 14, 2023. 

You can write whatever you would like! Reader insert, an OC of your own design (extra unimportant point if Ronnie makes an appearance lol), or the pilot x another pilot! If you follow me you know I love a good AU, so you wanna slap your characters in a universe with werewolves/knights in shining armor/superheroes? Feel free!

I’ll leave this post up for about a week for people to claim the prompts that they want, I will be adding this post to my blog navigation for the week, and will be crossing the prompts out when they get claimed (so please look at the original post to see which ones are available!!). I just appreciate you all so much and would love to inspire you all just a bit. Love you lots <3 can't wait to see what everyone writes!

Song Selection from The Hard Deck Jukebox:

HARDLOVE, NEEDTOBREATHE - “Doing our own thing never seem to find the time / We’ve been going downtown, making reservations / But maybe we just slow down / See where it can take us” — Let’s Stay Home Tonight

The Human Condition, Jon Bellion - “There’s bones in my closet, but you hang stuff anyway / And if you have nightmares, we’ll dance on the bed / I know that you love me, love me / Even when I lose my head” — Guillotine

Sunset on Summerville, Madds Buckley - “Oh babe, your motives are clear / You just wanna watch me struggle / And you always say, grinning ear to ear / That my frustrated face is adorable” — Scotch Tape and Cellophane @indynerdgirl

Wasteland, Baby!, Hozier - “My heart is thrilled by the still of your hand / It’s how I know now that you understand” — No Plan

ABBA Gold, ABBA - “And I know what you mean when you give me a flash of that smile / But girl, you’re only a child / Well, I can dance with you honey, if you think it’s funny” — Does Your Mother Know That You’re Out

Georgica Pond, JONNYSWIM - “I’m gonna go to bed dreamin’ that you’re still happy / That I’m still the girl that you loved from that party / We’ll go to bed early, just set the coffee, just say goodnight instead” — Say Goodnight Instead

Midnights, Taylor Swift - “All they keep asking me / Is if I’m gonna be your bride / The only kind of girl they see  / Is a one night or a wife” — Lavender Haze @newlibrary

Freya Ridings, Freya Ridings - “Standing on the platform, watching you go / It’s like no other pain that I’ve ever known / To love someone so much, to have no control / You said, “I wanna see the world.” and I said, “Go.” — Lost Without You @blue-aconite

The Civil Wars, The Civil Wars - “All your acting, your thin disguise / All your perfectly delivered lines / They don’t fool me / You’ve been lonely too long” — Dust to Dust

Find Me, Joseph Solomon - “She’s the calm, she’s the storm / I’m a fool on her shores / Oh I know, I know she’ll roll, she’ll roll away / With every intention of coming back for more” — The Ocean @ahopelessromanticwritersworld

Our Distinguished Pilots:

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Natasha "Phoenix" Trace

Javy "Coyote" Machado

Reuben "Payback" Fitch

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Bonus: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson

just adding my top gun taglist in case of you would like to participate:

@oneirataxia-girl @arrthurpendragon @pasta88love @theforevermorereject @sqrlgrl22 @townley-29 @alittlelostalittlefound @fenderenderender @chaoticassidy @capswife @marrianena @luckyladycreator2 @fulla02 @fangirlofallthings22 @dempy @imagineyneyjr @blue-aconite @commxnderwolffe @darkestbeforethedawn16 @sopheeg @mizzy-pop @loveforaugust @hope-love-equality2 @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @onlyheretowastetime @supernaturaldawning @frenchtoastix @oneelleandaneye @agentminnesota187 @smoothdogsgirl @indynerdgirl @newlibrary

[jerzwriter]

Newlywed Games with Bree - Halloween Edition - Tobias & Casey

Old-school-ish fandom members remember these! I completely redid mine since I had a different FC last Halloween, and I was at the beginning stages of creating an HC for Tobias & Casey - I didn't even know if they were endgame! Can you imagine? So, they needed a redo (so do Ethan & Kaycee, I'll be working on that next!) Thank you again to @jamespotterthefirst for this magnificent template that inspired so much creativity!

Their "interview" takes place just after their first Halloween together. So they're dating for about 7 months, but the two fools were in love a good 3 months before that. By this time next year, they're engaged with a baby on the way. They moved fast. lol

More below break...

Tobias loved Halloween as a kid, mostly because of the free candy and the legendary parties his mother would throw. Momma Vivian was very, very extra about his costumes. But his mom's costumes were not as much fun once he started school. Fortunately, his dad (Charles) stepped in and asked his wife to tone it down. Tobias was then able to simply be his favorite superhero or ballplayer, and Vivian no longer had to call in favors from her friends from Broadway.

As a tween/teen, he would get into trouble on mischief night (I know, you're shocked!) In his later teens & college, he'd plan an attention-grabbing costume in advance, hitting up local bars where he took home many best costume prizes and usually a pretty fellow contestant as well. This only amplified when he hit med school and got Ethan on board. Though most of those antics were behind him once he became an attending, he still loved a good Halloween party and a good costume.

Casey grew up with parents who doted on her and made a full event out of Halloween each year. It wasn’t just about the day but the hayrides, corn mazes, and pumpkin carving parties that led up to it.

Her love for the holiday carried on into her college years and beyond. There has never been a year where she did not have a costume, and on most, she had 2 or 3. One was usually a fun/tamer choice for daytime, and another racier option for the parties she attended and sometimes hosted. Dating Casey meant you’d have a couple's costume. It was not up for debate.

These two are a match made in Halloween Heaven. Unfortunately, the first year they knew each other, Casey had broken up with him before Halloween, so they didn't spend it together (I have a fic coming up about that). The following year, they went all out. They had a couple's costume ready, and they had numerous parties to attend, but they only made it to one... you can imagine why. In year three, they were weeks away from their wedding (though secretly married) and had a baby on the way, but they still celebrated. Then after that, it was always a big family affair.

Favorite Song: (Tobias laughs) C: What’s so funny? T: Nothing, It’s just that I went 36 years of my life not realizing that I never really lived until I saw you doing the Time Warp. C: Hmm. (Grins) But it’s the pelvic thrust that really drives you insane? T: No comment. C: And let me guess, your favorite Halloween song is... Ghostbusters? T: (Shocked) How did you know? C: Please, I caught you prancing around the bedroom pretending you were Ray Parker, Jr. T: What can I say? Bustin’ makes me feel good. (They fall into a fit of giggles.)

Favorite Movie? T: Don’t say it. C: The Nightmare… T: I said don’t say it… C: The Nightmare Before Christmas. T: Yes. Christmas. It’s a Christmas movie Case. C: Tell that to Jack the Pumpkin King. T: I’d have to talk to myself since that’s what you have me dressing up as this year, Sally. And I say, it's a Christmas movie. C: And what are you dressing up for? HALLOWEEN! You just proved my point! So what’s your favorite? T: Ha! Clearly, I win because you don’t know my answer. C: It’s the Adams Family. T: Wait! How…. C: It could be because you always want to roleplay Gomez and Morticia. T: Hey, Gomez is my man! We have a lot in common. C: Such as? T: We both know what we’ve got, and we appreciate it! (He winks and pulls her close, trailing kisses up her arms.) C: (Laughing) And I don’t even have to speak French!

Favorite Candy?

C: (Immediately screams) Kit-Kat!!! T: Then why do you always steal my Butterfingers? C: Because they’re equally delicious. T: Then share your Kit-Kats with me! C: No.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FUNNY COSTUME ON YOUR PARTNER?

(Casey flips over a picture of Tobias dressed as Prince.) T: OK, you need to tell me what is funny about Prince. C: There is nothing funny about him, but you dressed as him... that’s a whole other story. T: You told me I was sexy, we ... you know what we did... for hours. Now it's funny? C: It's funny in a very sexy way. T: Whatever. (Shakes his head and flips over a picture of Casey dressed as Elle Woods.) C: Now, what’s funny about Elle Woods! T: (Picks photo up, leers at it lecherously with a lecherous grin on his face) Not a damn thing. C: (Smacks his shoulder to bring his attention away from the picture.) So why did you pick it? T: It’s just funny to think of you in law school.

C: I can't really disagree with you on that. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE HOT COSTUME ON YOUR GIRL/BOYFRIEND?

(Tobias tries to flip his picture of Casey over first, but she beats him, dropping a photo of him dressed as a shirtless baseball player.)

T: Wait, this was the year before we were dating. C: I know. T: But we were at that party together... I knew you were checking me out. C: I was not checking you out. T: Casey, we're together now. You can admit it.

C: OK, I was not checking you out... much... until you took your damn shirt off.

T: (Chuckles) Pretty irresistible, right?

C: You're an ass. Of course, YOU were all over me that night, and you didn't even know it was me.

T: I knew it was you. But I had to pretend I didn't know it was you because you weren't talking to me at the time. C: But I knew it was you. That makes no sense. T: Can we get back to how hot I looked shirtless. C: No. T: Ok, so let's talk about how jealous you were of that nurse who was flirting with me. C: I was not! T: Were too. What was her name again? C: (Instantly) Sophia. And I was not jealous. T: Which is why you recalled her name instantaneously. Sorry, Case, you just should have gone out with me sooner. C: (Appears annoyed but laughs.) Yeah, we probably missed out on a hell of a good time that night. T: I’m sure. At least you eventually came to your senses. C: (Swatted at him and laughed) So what do you have to share? T: (Flips a photo of Casey dressed as a very sexy angel.) C: T!!! (She grabs the photo). That wasn’t a Halloween costume!! T: Oh? Do you mean our roleplay costumes don’t count? Damn it. (He laughs.) C: You know damn well they don’t! (Raises her eyebrow at him.) Because I know damn well you have some others you liked more than this one. T: Yeah (grins), but I’m not sharing them. (Both laugh) WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE COUPLE’S COSTUME THAT YOU HAVE WORN WITH YOUR BOY/GIRLFRIEND?

(Tobias tries to flip his first, but Casey wins again.) T: Damn it! C: That’s the thing about youth; we’re quicker! T: I’ll remind you about how dissatisfied you are with your old man's moves later. What have we got here? (He picks up the picture). C: T, we’ve gotten dressed up together once; we haven’t been together too long, remember? T: And whose fault is that? (Grins) C: That’s why I was so anxious to go first, now I have shown the world our amazing Beetlejuice & Lydia costume, and we’re done here. T: Yes, it’s amazing, but no, we’re not done. C: We’re not? T: No. (He flips a photo of them dressed as Aladin & Jasmine.) C: Oh my God! I forgot about this! T: You lie like the rug we were sitting on. C: It’s a carpet, T! I just didn’t think of it because it wasn’t Halloween. We were just cheering the kids in peds up. It was so nice of you to offer to be Alladin after Raf got sick and couldn’t come. (She kisses his cheek.) T: Yeah, I’m just that kind of guy. Do you know what my favorite part of this picture is? C: The cute little therapy dog on my lap? T: No. He was a nuisance. I was thinking positioning. C: (Smirks.) Really? T: Don’t act all innocent! Look at that hand action going on there. And in front of the children, Casey! I'm disappointed in you! C: It was nothing inappropriate! I was holding on because we were on a magic carpet ride and… T: Heh, heh, heh… C: Well, we did start dating shortly after this. T: Yep. POSITIONING.

Monster Mash or Thriller?

In Unison: Thriller. T: If there were any question, we’d have to break up on the spot. (She hits him.)

Apple Treats or Pumpkin Treats?

C: Pumpkin! (Simultaneously) T: Apple! C: That’s only because you’ve never tried pumpkin. T: And I never will. C: Yes, you will. T: How? C: Food play. T: (Shrugs shoulders) OK, maybe I’ll like it. (Casey laughs)

Fruit Candy or Chocolate Candy?

In Unison: Chocolate. T: Again, if there were a question, we’d have to split. C: You’re so full of it. T: What? I have standards!

Trick or Treat, or Hand Out Candy?

C: Both. T: I’ve never handed out candy before. But I have been informed that I like it now. C: Damn right you do. T: You see.

Horror Movies or Kid-Friendly Movies?

C: If I had to pick, kid-friendly. T: Casey hates horror films. C: I HATE them. T: That’s what I just said. C: I was emphasizing. T: OK (he rolls his eyes)

Creepy Costumes or Cute Costumes?

T: I can go either way. They both won prizes for me in the past. C: Hmmm. T: What? C: Prizes. (In air quotes.) T: (Lifts her hand and kisses it.) Long before I met you, dear. And like you never had "prizes" of your own. C: Next!

On your partner: Sexy or Funny Costume?

T: Heh, heh. C: His answer is sexy. T: And yours? C: It has to be sexy, baby. You’re sexy in everything. T: So, if I got a Fred Flintstone costume, you’d… C: Let you go all caveman. T: (Smiles and shakes head). God, I love her.

Perma All: @a-crepusculo @aishwarya26 @animesuck3r @annfg8 @annoyingmillenialnewbie @bex-la-get @binny1985 @bluebelle08 @bluerosesbloom @cariantha @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @danijimenezv @different4strawberry @differenttyphoonwerewolf @doriopenheartt @fayeswiftie @forallthatitsworth @genevievemd @inlocusmads @jamespotterthefirst @jennieausten @kingliam2019 @liaromancewriter @lilypills @lucy-268 @mainstreetreaderr @mysticalgalaxysstuff @ofmischiefandmedicine @onikalover @openheartforeverinmyheart @peonierose @peonyblossom @potionsprefect @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @schnitzelbutterfingers @secretaryunpaid @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @toadfrog26 @trappedinfanfiction @uneravine @youlookappropriate @zahrachoices @jerzwriter-reblogs-asks @openheartheadcanons

Tobias Only: @icecoffee90

[artzychic27]

How about some Phineas and Ferb incorrect quotes?

Ivan: Nah. I don’t want nothin’.

Chloé: Okay! Chop chop, fellas! Time’s a wasting-

Ivan: But I am reminded of a song. I waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaant… Nothin’.

—

Alix: *During Zombizou* Hey. Where’s Nathaniel?

—

Nathaniel: *Hides behind a tree as Austin A runs by; sighs* …

Austin A: *Appears out of nowhere* Thwart me, Nathaniel the Artist.

—

Nathaniel: Hey. What’d I miss?

Marinette: Oh! There you are, Nathaniel.

—

Andre Bourgeois: Aren’t you a little young to be superheroes?

Ladybug: Yes. Yes, we are.

—

Shadow Moth: *Slow clapping* Well, well, well, Ladybug and Chat Noir. What are you doing here?

Chat Noir: That depends. Why are you slow-clapping?

Shadow Moth: I don't know. I thought it would make my entrance more dramatic. And it totally worked.

Chat Noir: *To Ladybug* You know, he's right. It WAS more dramatic.

—

Luka: I got life-size molds of ALL my friends.

Adrien: I'm not sure how I feel about that.

—

Ismael: Mother always told me if all the other kids are jumpin' off a cliff, I should, too.

Cosette: Your mother said THAT?

Ismael: She was not a nurturer. Let's go!

—

Marinette: Do you usually have coffee with your dad's sworn enemies' daughters?

Adrien: No, just girls whose roofs I've flown off of.

Marinette: Oh, see, now I feel special.

Adrien: Yeah, I don't just fly off any roof, you know.

Marinette: Of course not.

Adrien: I've got standards.

—

Sabine: *muffled* Okay, I'll see you at feh.

Marinette: You'll see me at 'five'?

Sabine: No, feh.

Marinette: 'Four'?

Sabine: Feh!

Marinette: 'Feh'?

Sabine: Yeah, feh.

Marinette: *confused* Okay... I'll see you at... feh.

—

Adrien: *wearing Luka’s clothes* I look like the sea threw up on me!

—

Alix: *Walks in with Nathaniel wearing a cone around his neck* Hi, guys!

Kim: Hi, Alix. What's with the satellite-dish?

Alix: It's a protective collar. The doctor says Nath needs to wear it for the rest of the day. I still don't know how he scratched himself up so much.

Nathaniel: *Flashbacks to when he was fighting Austin A on top of a building and then fell off the roof into a pile of sand paper*

—

Nathalie: Watcha doin'?

Shadow Moth: ‘Watcha doin'? What does it look like to you? I'm building an evil empire. My own very fortress of eviltude.

Nathalie: Aren't you a little old to be building a fort?

Shadow Moth: No. No, I'm not. Shut up.

—

Austin A: Back story time! You see, Nathaniel the Artist, when I was boy my mother would never let me swim in public pools.

*Flashback back to Austin as a child standing with his mother near a public pool; he looks at her longingly*

Mrs. Armbruster: No.

*back to reality*

Nathaniel: …

Austin A: … What? That's it! You know, not every back story has to have some big, in-depth spiel, Mr. High Expectations.

—

Ivan: *during a city blackout* What 'cha doo-in'?

Ismael: Reshma? Your voice sounds horrible.

Ivan: Fooled ya! It's me, Ivan. And my voice isn't horrible, it's raspy. You gotta spend hours screaming in a closet to get it like this. Hours!

—

Chloé: Oh! This stupid fence! Why do we even have a fence here?! Dad, tear down this fence!

[daz4i]

okay but you got me thinkiing about akechi was suppose to be the hero/protag

my main reasoning is like joker is our trickster archetype which typically more likely then not take the villain role

(even going back to p4 adachi the jester arcana)

so if joker is our trickster? what does that make akechi🤔? well he IS assoitated with heroes an awfully lot

also

i would say overconfidece is a big akechi moment

ok you just unlocked a topic i am incapable of being normal about so sorry in advance for possible unhingedness (<-has a whole video essay planned about characters who are/think they are/want to be heroes but can’t do it in the story they’re forced to be a part of)

akechi’s prince persona is all about being a hero, robin hood is even designed to look like a common old school superhero, his whole theming being around heroes, whatever the fuck is happening in proof of justice certainly serves to hammer this point home: goro’s rebellion is about being a hero of justice

but that’s what it is, unfortunately - rebellion. he knows the cards he’s been dealt won’t allow him to be one, so at least in a place like the metaverse he’s allowed to live that dream his mother gave him. he has to go against society and its expectations of him in order to do it. (i’d say shido’s work requiring him to use mostly loki is another way for shido to kill remnants of akechi’s mother inside him if you wanna get very metaphorical with it)

but if we go to the meaning of protagonist, then i do firmly believe goro’s a wildcard (i mean that part’s p much confirmed in the game) and my personal hc is he was supposed to have a velvet room but yaldy prevented him from entering it, tho that part’s not backed up by anything just smth i like to think about hehe

there’s even the line in his theme song, no more what ifs, “my story will be starring me just like yours” - he is still, at the end of the day, the hero of his own story, just like his inner, younger rebellion wishes for

i think that while goro wishes to be a hero - or at least, his younger self wished for, i think at this point he knows it’s unrealistic - in a story with him as the protagonist he’d be forced to be an anti hero if anything. there’s no version of his story where the audience will see his actions and say “yeah this is heroic, selfless and just” no matter how they’ll be framed. even on a meta-textual level goro can never get what he wants 😔

but this is why i think we can’t judge him through heroic terms or standards. i also won’t call overconfidence his weakness bc i think his confidence is at least 85% fake and more of a survival thing at this point of his life lol (if he’s not confident in his plan, he virtually has nothing else to live for)

BUT TO GO BACK TO AN EARLIER TOPIC THAT I GOT OFF OF, SORRY ABOUT THAT, i want to see him go through the fool’s journey so bad. he may not be a clear slate but like,, neither are most persona protags honestly (most prominent example imo are the p3 protags). you can also read his emptiness - the sin of his scrapped palace, but also how he’s always putting on masks and there’s not much behind them anymore - as the blank slate of him being the fool. either way i think he deserves to go through this journey, i think it can be really interesting to see too

like. the game really insists that he and joker are the same except that joker has bonds and goro doesn’t, so i really want to know what goro with bonds would be like; would he be more of a classic hero? would he use robin hood more than loki (or throw them both away altogether, if we assume he has a velvet room)? would he be someone else altogether, removing his masks, at least for a bit?

idk. i did start rambling there, so sorry about that hehe. but yes many thoughts head full

[anthrcpophagi]

SUMMER of JULY 1990. Camp Ameewagan, Catskills, NY, USA

The night air is cool, a bit too cool for a summer night in the Catskills. Maren knows it’s an omen of something bad to come, but she’s determined to make the best of this summer. Maybe even make a friend. Luke was nice, and she hadn't done the bad thing in a while, not since Penny Wilson. And if she started getting the urge she could run off and sneak back into the girls’ cabin before anything could go wrong. It sounded like a fool-proof plan, or at least she wanted to convince herself that it did.

The sticks and dead leaves crunch beneath her sneakers, a graveyard of summer scattered across the forest floor as autumn slowly creeps upon them. She follows Luke, following his scent more than his body. The night is dark and all they have is a little kerosene lantern Luke stole from the storage shack. But he smells like cedar and bubblegum, like sweat and excitement, and she follows it like a shark with blood in the water.

His tent sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the trees and flora. It’s nothing fancy, but Luke’s smile would make one believe otherwise. His pace quickens as he nears the tent and Maren hurries along after him. She watches as Luke holds open the tent flap for her, ushering her in like a true gentleman. He’d probably seen his father do the same for his mother and he knew it was only fair to respect a lady. Maren had never truly known respect, but she bows her head in thanks and slips into the makeshift hideaway.

He follows her in and as soon as the flap closes, he turns on the lantern, almost as though he timed it to perfection. The light wasn’t very bright, a dull flame that flickered on its last breath, but it was enough to illuminate the patterns on the walls of the tent. The outer layer was a ratty blue tarp that he'd probably stolen from the storage shack, too. But the interior had more personality. The inner layer was a mixture of old Superman bedsheets and Batman beach towels draped over a metal skeleton of what she could only assume used to be a much more sophisticated tent than this. He beamed as she took in the sight of his secret hideout, the light just bright enough to reflect off the edges of his features, rounded cherubic cheeks and a smile with missing teeth. The innocent cheeks of youth, the timestamps of age. It was contagious and Maren actually smiles back at him.

“I like you, Maren. I never shown anyone else this place before.”

She knows it’s a compliment so she nods and smiles gratefully, but there’s a churning in her stomach, a seed of dread bubbling up from her molten core. She doesn’t pay attention to what he says as he rambles on about his summer so far and the things he plans to do between the end of camp and next year’s camper orientation. It’s only when he mentions his father that she tunes back in, like a radio signal, a part of her desperate and eager to live vicariously through someone with two, loving parents.

“My Dad’s gonna teach me to ride a horse next summer. Says I’m not tall enough now, but I should be come next year. He'll get me boots and everythin'.” His smile is wide and it’s obvious he’s waiting for some kind of validation from Maren, but all she can imagine is her own father teaching her to ride a horse. This faceless spectral in her memories holding her hands as she clutched the reins. “Because I’m gonna be a park ranger. Gonna ride horses and protect the animals and forest.”

Maren blinks, and her confusion must be clear enough because he continues. “Like a superhero of the woods. Makin' sure people are camping right, and the animals are safe from hunters and poachers. You know what poachers are?”

She shakes her head.

“They’re people who hunt animals for bad reasons. They kill the innocent animals because they want to, not ‘cause they need to, like the cavemen used’ta.”

“Poachers are bad guys?” She asks as she watches Luke grab a lukewarm Sprite can from his little blue cooler. How long it’s been stashed out here she couldn’t tell, but she could tell by the dripping water that clung to the can that it’d been long enough.

He cracks open the can of soda and brings it to his lips. He takes a sip, carbonated water dribbling down his chin before he wipes it off with the back of his hand. Maren cringes, but he must not see it because he holds out his hand and offers her a sip, ever the gentleman. She shakes her head again, but all she can focus on is the rising warmth in her chest, a gnawing sensation that she couldn’t quite place. She knows she should leave, that she should get back to the girls’ cabin before her counselor notices.

“I should get back. I don’t wanna get in trouble.” The tarp beneath them crinkles as she moves toward the exit, desperate to slip away before the monster inside of her gets too loud.

But Luke grabs her arm and the look on his face is pure and beautiful and his eyes are too sparkly for her to say no.

“Please stay. Just a little longer.”

Maren doesn’t fight against his hold, not that she needed to. Luke Vanderwall was a gentleman, after all, and his grasp on her was gentle, but pleading. She doesn’t sit back down on the tarp, but she doesn’t continue her trajectory to the outside either. Instead, she watches as he rips open a bag of Doritos and offers her a Dorito from his stash of snacks, his fingertips caked in cheese dust and dirt.

Her nose tickled with the overwhelming mixture of aromas. She could smell his sweat and the wet dirt beneath them. She could smell the cheese and citrus scent of the Sprite can, emptied and cast aside. She could hear his heart pounding, the blood of a nervous child pumping as he speaks to a girl he likes.

Maren retreats back into the tent, letting the flap seal the two kids inside once more. As he holds his hand out, Maren knows it’s coming, something bad. Something really bad and she knows she should run and leave now before the bad thing happens, but Luke stares at her with his sparkly eyes and red cheeks and she clenches her fists with defiance. But it doesn’t last long.

In the blink of an eye, she leans forward and wraps her mouth around the triangular chip, a gesture that might’ve been sweet if not for the sweat on her brow and the way her lips enveloped his fingers as well. She bites down, and she doesn’t know if the crack she hears is the corn chip or his bones, but his cry of pain makes her think the latter.

He tries to pull back his hand, scared of the pain but not necessarily of Maren, but her jaw is locked and there's no escaping fate now. Not for either of them. He should be scared of Maren. But there’s hardly any time for the fear to grow because without any further hesitation she’s on top of him, legs straddling his little body as she devours his fingers one by one, moving from wrist to forearm to shoulder until all that was left was the Dorito crumbs on the tarp floor and an eerie silence that felt deafening.

She’d done it again. Just like before, with Penny, but now she was old enough to remember, old enough to know it was wrong. She knows she should feel bad, should cry or scream but all she can do is smile, little giggles bubbling out from her bloodied lips as she feels the adrenaline rush through her. She feels light, like a feather floating down from the heavens, but she knows the feeling won’t last forever.

Come morning, everyone will be looking for little Luke Vanderwall and they’ll never find him. Because she hadn't left anything to find, devouring him bones and all. The camp will shut down early, the parents will be called to come rescue their children, and Mama would know exactly why and what happened. And she will be so mad.

[anthrcpophagi-moved]

📼

Send 📼 to see an early childhood memory of my muse’s

SUMMER of JULY 1990. Camp Ameewagan, Catskills, NY, USA

The night air is cool, a bit too cool for a summer night in the Catskills. Maren knows it’s an omen of something bad to come, but she’s determined to make the best of this summer. Maybe even make a friend. Luke was nice, and she hadn't done the bad thing in a while, not since Penny Wilson. And if she started getting the urge she could run off and sneak back into the girls’ cabin before anything could go wrong. It sounded like a fool-proof plan, or at least she wanted to convince herself that it did.

The sticks and dead leaves crunch beneath her sneakers, a graveyard of summer scattered across the forest floor as autumn slowly creeps upon them. She follows Luke, following his scent more than his body. The night is dark and all they have is a little kerosene lantern Luke stole from the storage shack. But he smells like cedar and bubblegum, like sweat and excitement, and she follows it like a shark with blood in the water.

His tent sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of the trees and flora. It’s nothing fancy, but Luke’s smile would make one believe otherwise. His pace quickens as he nears the tent and Maren hurries along after him. She watches as Luke holds open the tent flap for her, ushering her in like a true gentleman. He’d probably seen his father do the same for his mother and he knew it was only fair to respect a lady. Maren had never truly known respect, but she bows her head in thanks and slips into the makeshift hideaway.

He follows her in and as soon as the flap closes, he turns on the lantern, almost as though he timed it to perfection. The light wasn’t very bright, a dull flame that flickered on its last breath, but it was enough to illuminate the patterns on the walls of the tent. The outer layer was a ratty blue tarp that he'd probably stolen from the storage shack, too. But the interior had more personality. The inner layer was a mixture of old Superman bedsheets and Batman beach towels draped over a metal skeleton of what she could only assume used to be a much more sophisticated tent than this. He beamed as she took in the sight of his secret hideout, the light just bright enough to reflect off the edges of his features, rounded cherubic cheeks and a smile with missing teeth. The innocent cheeks of youth, the timestamps of age. It was contagious and Maren actually smiles back at him.

“I like you, Maren. I never shown anyone else this place before.”

She knows it’s a compliment so she nods and smiles gratefully, but there’s a churning in her stomach, a seed of dread bubbling up from her molten core. She doesn’t pay attention to what he says as he rambles on about his summer so far and the things he plans to do between the end of camp and next year’s camper orientation. It’s only when he mentions his father that she tunes back in, like a radio signal, a part of her desperate and eager to live vicariously through someone with two, loving parents.

“My Dad’s gonna teach me to ride a horse next summer. Says I’m not tall enough now, but I should be come next year. He'll get me boots and everythin'.” His smile is wide and it’s obvious he’s waiting for some kind of validation from Maren, but all she can imagine is her own father teaching her to ride a horse. This faceless spectral in her memories holding her hands as she clutched the reins. “Because I’m gonna be a park ranger. Gonna ride horses and protect the animals and forest.”

Maren blinks, and her confusion must be clear enough because he continues. “Like a superhero of the woods. Makin' sure people are camping right, and the animals are safe from hunters and poachers. You know what poachers are?”

She shakes her head.

“They’re people who hunt animals for bad reasons. They kill the innocent animals because they want to, not ‘cause they need to, like the cavemen used’ta.”

“Poachers are bad guys?” She asks as she watches Luke grab a lukewarm Sprite can from his little blue cooler. How long it’s been stashed out here she couldn’t tell, but she could tell by the dripping water that clung to the can that it’d been long enough.

He cracks open the can of soda and brings it to his lips. He takes a sip, carbonated water dribbling down his chin before he wipes it off with the back of his hand. Maren cringes, but he must not see it because he holds out his hand and offers her a sip, ever the gentleman. She shakes her head again, but all she can focus on is the rising warmth in her chest, a gnawing sensation that she couldn’t quite place. She knows she should leave, that she should get back to the girls’ cabin before her counselor notices.

“I should get back. I don’t wanna get in trouble.” The tarp beneath them crinkles as she moves toward the exit, desperate to slip away before the monster inside of her gets too loud.

But Luke grabs her arm and the look on his face is pure and beautiful and his eyes are too sparkly for her to say no.

“Please stay. Just a little longer.”

Maren doesn’t fight against his hold, not that she needed to. Luke Vanderwall was a gentleman, after all, and his grasp on her was gentle, but pleading. She doesn’t sit back down on the tarp, but she doesn’t continue her trajectory to the outside either. Instead, she watches as he rips open a bag of Doritos and offers her a Dorito from his stash of snacks, his fingertips caked in cheese dust and dirt.

Her nose tickled with the overwhelming mixture of aromas. She could smell his sweat and the wet dirt beneath them. She could smell the cheese and citrus scent of the Sprite can, emptied and cast aside. She could hear his heart pounding, the blood of a nervous child pumping as he speaks to a girl he likes.

Maren retreats back into the tent, letting the flap seal the two kids inside once more. As he holds his hand out, Maren knows it’s coming, something bad. Something really bad and she knows she should run and leave now before the bad thing happens, but Luke stares at her with his sparkly eyes and red cheeks and she clenches her fists with defiance. But it doesn’t last long.

In the blink of an eye, she leans forward and wraps her mouth around the triangular chip, a gesture that might’ve been sweet if not for the sweat on her brow and the way her lips enveloped his fingers as well. She bites down, and she doesn’t know if the crack she hears is the corn chip or his bones, but his cry of pain makes her think the latter.

He tries to pull back his hand, scared of the pain but not necessarily of Maren, but her jaw is locked and there's no escaping fate now. Not for either of them. He should be scared of Maren. But there’s hardly any time for the fear to grow because without any further hesitation she’s on top of him, legs straddling his little body as she devours his fingers one by one, moving from wrist to forearm to shoulder until all that was left was the Dorito crumbs on the tarp floor and an eerie silence that felt deafening.

She’d done it again. Just like before, with Penny, but now she was old enough to remember, old enough to know it was wrong. She knows she should feel bad, should cry or scream but all she can do is smile, little giggles bubbling out from her bloodied lips as she feels the adrenaline rush through her. She feels light, like a feather floating down from the heavens, but she knows the feeling won’t last forever.

Come morning, everyone will be looking for little Luke Vanderwall and they’ll never find him. Because she hadn't left anything to find, devouring him bones and all. The camp will shut down early, the parents will be called to come rescue their children, and Mama would know exactly why and what happened. And she will be so mad.