"most people carry superpowers they don’t realize they have. mine just happen to be useless trivia and accidentally falling for people who smile at me."
name: marlowe elise reyes
age: twenty-four
dob: april 3rd
gender: cisfemale
sexuality: heterosexual
hometown: morro bay, california
neighborhood: downtown
occupation: employee at the comic vault
personality: warmhearted, imaginative, loyal, socially awkward, overthinker, avoids confrontation
tw: illness marlowe reyes grew up in a coastal california town that always felt too loud and too sharp around her edges. she found refuge early in life between the bright pages of comic books, where heroes were complicated, messy, and hopeful. much like she secretly hoped she could be. at fourteen, when her parents divorced, her father moved them to windsor bay. marlowe arrived awkward, hurting, and quietly scared. not just of change, but of the symptoms she'd begun to notice; tremors in her hands, sudden fatigue, blurred vision she couldn't explain. her official multiple sclerosis diagnosis came a year later. she remembers the day clearly. the sterile office. the long explanation full of medical words. the fear she didn't know how to name. But she also remembers what came after; the adaptations, the learning, the people who didn't treat her like she was breakable. windsor bay became the first place where marlowe didn't feel like a puzzle that needed solving. she started working at the comic vault as a teen, slowly becoming part of the store's foundation. on good days, she moved easily around the shop. on rough flare days, she used her teal collapsible cane (decorated with fandom stickers, naturally) or worked the counter where she could sit. the shop always made space for her needs, no questions asked. that's what made it home. now twenty-four, marlowe still lives above player two arcade, surrounded by comic stacks, plushies, and half-finished sketches for the graphic novel she hopes to publish one day. she uses her cane whenever her legs feel unreliable or the fatigue hits hard, other days, she walks without it. she jokes that she has "dlc mobility options" because humor has always been her first line of defense. marlowe is soft-spoken but passionate, anxious but brave in her own quiet ways. she listens deeply. she apologizes too much. she gets flustered when someone cute compliments her hair. and she has a stubborn streak that only comes out when someone underestimates her, especially about her disability. in a town filled with long-standing legacies and dark secrets, marlowe is the kind of person who offers gentleness without being asked. she's not trying to be a hero. but somehow, in her own unassuming way, she is one.
drinks iced matcha year-round, even in the dead of winter
owns 27 graphic tees but somehow wears the same four on rotation
every crush she's ever had was sparked by someone asking her, "what comic should i start with?"
has a surprisingly good singing voice but won't sing in front of anyone except her cat, doodle
writes long, emotional letters she never sends
sketches original characters in the margins of receipts, napkins, and café paper cups
loves thunderstorms, she says they make windsor bay feel like a fantasy novel
playlist
wanted connections
the fellow nerd
someone who comes into the comic vault often enough that the two of them have an ongoing, chaotic fandom debate running. maybe they bonded over x-men lore, who the best robin is, or which anime has the worst ending. they're her comfort person in the shop.
the unintentional crush
someone who is warm, kind, and attractive in a way that scrambles marlowe's brain. they asked her for a comic recommendation once and she's been doomed ever since. this can be mutual or very one-sided, either works beautifully.
the "stop pretending you're fine" friend
this person has known marlowe long enough to see through the "i'm okay! just tired!" act she uses on hard ms days. they nudge her to sit. carry heavy boxes for her, and bring her snacks or fun ice packs. she loves them for it but also wants to melt into the floor from embarrassment.
the platonic soulmate
the person who knows her panic spirals, knows her comfort snacks, and knows doodle hates strangers. they bring her to oceanside park on flare days. this is her deepest, most grounding non-romantic bond.
the "why are you using a cane? you're so young" problem person
not cruel, just ignorant. they ask invasive or awkward questions about her ms. this connection gives marlowe space to advocate for herself, get flustered, and grow more confident could develop into friendship or stay prickly.
