Backstory: you are living back at home (as an adult) for a while to save money
Before you get the front door open, a familiar laugh meets your ears. It can’t be? He was just here yesterday!
Entering the house you close the door behind you and head to the kitchen. Inside you find your mother, kid sister and Max at the dinner table.
“Hey honey, want some coco?” Your mom asks with a warm smile.
“It’s delicious,” Max grins. He relaxes further in the chair, “best hot cocoa I’ve ever had.”
“Oh stop.” You mom beams.
“I mean it, really, you should open a cafe!” He rests a hand on her shoulder and they both laugh.
With a sigh you head to the counter, “I can make it.”
A month ago your mom made the mistake of inviting Max in, now it’s like he lives here. Avoiding him on the outside was already near impossible but now that he was hanging out with your family, you were never going to get rid of him. It didn’t help that they adored him to pieces.
As you make a cup, you hear him make a joke. It’s not even funny but your sister and mom are laughing like it’s the best joke they’ve ever heard.
You take your finished cocoa and head to the living room. As you enter, you feel Max behind you. Turning around you see him leaning against the door frame.
“So, you, me, dinner?”
“No Max.”
He sighs dramatically, “is it the vampire thing or the vampire business guy thing?” He crooks a brow.
As you stare at him, you realize you’re not even sure of the answer anymore. Max Phillips had a reputation, the ultimate bad boys of bad boys. Plus, he could be a real asshole, a charming one, but still and asshole.
His ego was through the roof, he thought very highly of himself and not only was he a vampire but he turned others into vampires, sometimes against their will.
So Max was a walking red flag. You promised yourself you were done with bad boys at this age. But to say you don’t entertain the idea of giving into Max’s advances would be a lie.
Plus, he has been on very good behavior over the last two months…
AKA: I’ve been creating this for months and finally feel ready to post it!
In lieu of a story this week, you guys get the world’s most chaotic headcanon list for almost all of the characters I write for. I didn’t add Oberyn or Tovar to the list because it was too late when I watched their respective medias. Oops. Anyway, enjoy my creative bullshit, my projection of my issues onto fictional characters, and my place to hold all my little quirks for characters.
Warnings: Some angst sprinkled throughout and of course some language. Also, this is a very long document! 15 google docs pages! Holy crap!
Din Djarin:
Din has a box aboard the Crest called a Before Box. Each foundling gets one, and they typically put things from their prior lives in the boxes. It’s made of beskar, so it survived the Crest’s explosion. In Din’s is his first helmet, his old robes from the day of the attack, a mythosaur plushie from his rescuer, and his very first blaster.
Din didn’t know pronouns and separate gender were a thing until he left the covert. Mando’a is a gender neutral language and all Mandalorians are equal regardless of gender, so seeing men and women treated differently and with different words was a surprise to Din.
Din can count on one hand the amount of people he trusts with his life. Surprisingly, Peli is at the top of that list.
He doesn’t know it, but Din has a sister. She was a newborn baby when Aq Ventina was attacked, and he always assumed she died. She didn’t die, and she’s now a lovely farmer on some peaceful water planet.
Din’s favorite color is teal.
To him it isn’t important, but one of his legs isn’t real. His left leg was bitten off by some monster on his very first bounty hunt. The prosthetic is made of beskar.
Din loves music. Sometimes he’ll sit in cantinas with a band for longer than he technically has to just so that he can listen to music.
Din went back to Arvala-7 after he gave Grogu to Luke. He didn’t stay for long. In fact, all he wanted to do was go find the dead body of the Mudhorn he’d killed and take a small bone from it. He ended up with one of its teeth and he put it in his Before Box.
More often than not, Din sleeps on the floor of the Crest. His bunk makes his back hurt.
Din’s pretty decent at sewing.
Every so often, Din visits Boba and Fennec so he can relax.
When he isn’t on the Crest or some other ship, Din has very odd sleeping preferences. He likes lots of pillows, at least three blankets, and some kind of ambient noise. He also prefers space to stretch out, but won’t complain if he has to sleep in close quarters.
He has a bedroom in Boba’s palace. It’s got everything he wants, including windows with dividers up against them so he can have the sunlight without the risk of someone seeing his face.
Din always sleeps in the same position. On his left side with his legs bent a bit and his arms up, so his arms are covering his face and his hands are in his hair. He also burrows in the blankets. It’s all just a security measure so if someone walks in, they won’t see his face.
After Grogu was taken by Luke, Din started to become more active with the foundlings. He’s the covert’s beroya and he’s allowed to leave, so the foundlings love to hear his stories about the outside.
Din can name a lot of planets. Like. A lot of them.
Din knows at least a tiny bit of most languages. He can say hello in every one he knows, but he’s sloppy with just about every language aside from Basic. Even Mando’a. He sometimes trips up his pronunciation or sentence structure.
Din is very very ticklish.
The last person to hug Din was Paz. They’re similar in age and grew up together in the covert. They shared a room, and they hugged each other on the day Din left to be the covert’s beroya, because they didn’t know when they’d see each other again.
Din’s close with most of the covert members, and they’re all as good as family, but Paz is the person he’s closest with.
Din’s poor back is in pain almost every day. He knows it’s from his less than ideal career and sleeping conditions, but he isn’t exactly going to change any time soon.
There is no force on this planet or any other that will ever convince me Din isn’t a cuddler.
When he was little, Din hated veggies, and his mother would always chastise him when he left them on his plate. She told him that if he ate his vegetables first, he could have dessert, but only if he ate the veggies first. Ever since then, even when she was dead and he was a bounty hunter, he always always eats his vegetables first.
Din snorts when he laughs. And I’m not talking small snorts either.
Occasionally, Din will lapse into mute spells, not talking to anyone, even if he has to. When this happens, he’ll hole himself up in Peli’s shop until he’s ready to leave because she’s the only one he knows who knows Tusken sign language. She won’t tell him, but she likes having him around and knowing he’s safe and well taken care of.
Din loves listening to thunderstorms when he’s sleeping in the Crest.
Din is the kind of person who sneezes like ten times in a row. But they’re all kitten sneezes! Even so, they sound hysterical when he can’t remove his helmet.
Din’s diet consists of super easy and basic things like soup, ration blocks, and the occasional space equivalent of a hot pocket.
I don’t care that it isn’t possible timeline wise. Din has met all five members of the Bad Batch at some point in his travels, however, he met them all separately, and hasn’t been able to put two and two together and realize they’re all one squad.
Marcus Moreno:
Marcus is lactose intolerant. Not severely, but just enough to make him hesitant before eating dairy products.
Marcus wasn’t able to fully mourn his wife for almost three months. He held himself together for Missy, and finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and drove to his mothers house so he could process every emotion he’d been suppressing. He was there for a little over two weeks in varying states of mourning while Missy stayed with a family friend.
Marcus still has his wisdom teeth. At this point, he’ll probably die with them.
Marcus was and will forever be an avid Doctor Who fan. His favorite Doctor is 11, but he was absolutely delighted when they announced 13, and she’s his very close second favorite.
Marcus can knit really well.
He never chose a hero name because he never intended to be a hero full time. So when the time came to introduce himself to the city, he just used his real legal name because he couldn’t think of anything else.
Marcus’s favorite fictional superhero is Superman. Don’t tell Miracle Guy though, because MG gets his inspiration from Superman, and whenever anyone says Superman is their favorite, he gets a big head about it.
Good lord does Marcus get sick easily. And it’s always super bad. He passed out once in the CVS parking lot once because he had pneumonia. Thankfully, this was before his wife passed away, so he didn’t face plant the asphalt.
Marcus has his own office, he just doesn’t ever use it. He prefers to know exactly what’s going on at all times, so he works in the information room.
Marcus’s reflexes are incredible. Despite that, he’s a very heavy sleeper. He’s slept through thunderstorms, earthquakes, villain attacks, and plenty more.
Marcus is a renaissance faire kind of guy. He loves going every year, and will put Missy on his shoulders so she can see the jousts better.
Before she passed, Marcus’s wife gave him a teddy bear with a recording of her heartbeat and her saying ‘I love you.’ Whenever Marcus is sad, he’ll listen to the recording.
Marcus lost his wife to cancer. It’s made him paranoid about his and Missy’s health.
Marcus is very adamant that in the Moreno household, we read the books before we watch the movies.
His dedication to this rule made him read each and every single Game of Thrones book. He actually enjoyed them once he was able to pass the 400 page mark of book 1.
Marcus’s vision is atrocious. I’m talking he’s well over 20/400 in both eyes, and can barely see six inches in front of his own face without contacts or glasses.
He snores. A lot.
Marcus wanted to be an elementary school teacher when he was growing up. Then, his powers became a thing and he only had one career path that he could take.
Marcus is big on ‘fuck gender.’ Once, after some asshat made sexist comments about female heroes, Marcus wore a leather skirt, his usual button up and leather jacket, and absolutely killer blood red high heels to some big hero event. He also got Ms. Vox to do his makeup. Pictures from that event were headline news for three months.
Marcus met his late wife when she spilled coffee all over him on her first day of work at a coffee shop.
Marcus is a 50/50 split between a Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
He often eats the same things Missy does for breakfast. On the weekends, she has two Eggo waffles with Nutella on them, so that’s what Marcus eats too. He likes to make his into a sandwich though, and he always insists they eat a fruit.
Marcus will often send Missy completely ridiculous YouTube videos in the middle of the day. Including but not limited to: Mothman YMCA parody, every single Potter Puppet Pals, lots of otter videos, and vine compilations.
Marcus’s favorite TV show is Friends. He watches it with Missy all the time, and they quote it to each other whenever they can.
When Marcus is working out at Heroics headquarters, he listens to Twenty One Pilots’ ‘Trench’ album.
Once, while drunk, Miracle Guy dared Marcus to shave with one of his swords. Needless to say, Marcus still has that scar from where he almost slit his own throat on accident.
Marcus and Missy use Steven Universe as a way to talk about and better understand mental health. It works surprisingly well.
Ever since he was little, Marcus has had horrible chronic nosebleeds. No doctor ever found a cause, and they mellowed as he aged, so he only gets one every month or so.
Max Phillips:
Max will put up a huge cold front upon meeting anyone for the first time. But just wait, because that cold exterior will melt away with time and he will become the clingiest, neediest bitch eVER.
When he first turned, he did his best to only feed off of small animals. He never wanted to kill any people.
Animals hate him. With a passion. The only exception is cats. Which he’s allergic to.
Max’s eyes are actually red. They’re just a very very deep red that gets passed off as brown a lot.
Despite the fact that he can’t really die, Max is very cautious with his safety. He can still get hurt, and he hates it.
In his free time, Max reads a lot of YA fiction.
Sunlight won’t outright kill him, but it hurts like a bitch. Same with other vampire things. He can have garlic, sure, but it makes his throat swell like he’s allergic. He can totally touch holy items, they just give him second-degree burns.
Speaking of vampire things, Max has a whole notebook full of experiments he did when he first turned. He figured out all his powers, all his weaknesses, his limits, and all of it is kept in a small black notebook he carries everywhere.
Max doesn’t sleep. He uses the extra time to get work done super fast. He enjoys having weekends off.
Before he got turned, Max was battling Lyme disease and then Post-Treatment Lyme Disease Syndrome. It was hell, and he frequently wished for someone to put him out of his misery.
Max is a huge fan of musical theater. His favorite show is School of Rock.
For those of you who remember this chaotic mess, Max was an avid viewer of Unus Annus.
Max can smell illness from a mile away. He uses this skill often around the office to catch outbreaks of colds or the flu.
Sometimes, when he’s exhausted, Max will lay in bed and close his eyes. He doesn’t sleep, but he’ll relax in bed and try to rest his body.
Max has a very specific morning routine. He likes to sit on the front porch with a warm cup of blood, because he can’t have coffee, and listen to ‘The Amazing Devil’ songs while he watches the sun rise. Once the sun is up, he has to go in, but he likes to watch it rise before it starts to shine really bright and burn him.
Max is self conscious of his fangs. He’s always worried that they’re out when they shouldn’t be, and that he’ll be outed and have to leave the city.
To Max, the worst part about being a vampire is that he can’t cry.
Before he was turned, Max was severely dyslexic. Somehow, being turned fixed his dyslexia, and he’s oddly grateful.
Max cannot get drunk. That isn’t for lack of trying though.
Max loves horror games. He doesn’t think they’re scary, mostly just thrill-inducing. His favorites are the Resident Evil series of games because they span everything, from pure horror to more of an adventure game. He loves it all, especially the storytelling. Plus, the graphics are amazing.
Despite being a creature of darkness, Max is a very loving person, it’s just the outer shell that’s a complete bastard. Work your way under that, and you end up with a goofy college kid who really just likes kisses and cuddles.
Max sleeps with a Pillow Pet. It’s shaped like a dog. He named it Henry. (Much debate happened in college about whether Henry is named after Henry Cavill, Max’s secret celebrity crush. He will deny it until the day he dies again)
As a joke, one of Max’s vampire friends got him all five ‘Vladimir Tod’ books. He’ll never admit it, but he’s read all of them and thinks they’re hilarious.
Max is oddly glad that certain things about vampires aren’t true. For example, he does show up in mirrors and he can have his photo taken.
Max is left handed.
Max likes to play drinking games at local bars with college kids. He’s the fucking boss at beer pong because hey. Can’t get drunk.
Max’s bed doesn’t look like a bed. It looks like a bird’s nest made of pillows and blankets. It’s all because Max is a very physically cold person, and he very much likes being cocooned in his bed.
Max used to have a ridiculous sweet tooth. Now, because all food tastes like sawdust to him, Max likes to buy bags of candy and just smell them before sharing them with his human friends.
Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales:
Frankie is the only one of the boys who knows French because it was his language class in high school. He’s completely fluent and when the boys used to do stupid shit on missions, he’d chew them out in rapid fire French because he can say whatever he wants and not have the boys give him shit for it.
Frankie eats the same thing for breakfast every day. A bagel with a little bit of peanut butter. Oh, and at least three cups of coffee.
He is a complete slut for chicken nuggets.
Frankie has a very peculiar way of determining whether someone is worth a second date or not if he’s on the fence about it. He’ll ask them to guess his full first name to see if they pay attention, because he introduces himself as “Francisco but just call me Frankie.” Most people fail, because what the hell is Frankie even short for? Some people guess Francis, and he’s gotten Franklin once or twice. He gave in and went on a second date with someone who got it wrong exactly once, and that was because she said ‘Dr. Frank-N-Furter’ and he laughed for five minutes straight.
Frankie is prone to horrible, debilitating chronic migraines.
Sometimes I headcanon Frankie as trans.
In the trans headcanon, Frankie’s dead name is Francesca, and Santi helped him come out to his family and transition. There still exist junior prom photos of Frankie in a stunning dress, and then the next year in a handsome tux at senior prom.
I always headcanon Frankie as pansexual.
One of his favorite parts of going to the grocery store is admiring those shitty display cakes that are mostly frosting and chemicals. He also loves the lobster tank.
Frankie’s safe spaces are aquariums and bookstores.
Frankie’s love language is physical touch. If he doesn’t get hugs once every few days, it’s noticeable. He’s all sullen and quiet until someone asks him what’s wrong. Benny usually notices first. Sometimes, if it’s been a really long time without comforting contact, Frankie will stretch out on the couch or floor and Benny will lay on top of him. It’s deep pressure therapy, except that deep pressure is a squirmy best friend and not the usual weighted blanket.
Unlike Max, Frankie makes absolutely no effort to hide how clingy and/or needy he is.
Once, on a mission, a boulder fell and crushed Frankie’s foot and ankle. Thanks to his sturdy boots he wasn’t permanently disabled, but the rock was heavy as hell and there was a brief moment where they thought they’d have to do a field amputation. He needed three surgeries to fix the damage, and even years later that ankle still gives him trouble. He wears a brace for it sometimes.
Frankie got the name Catfish because he and Santi went skinny dipping in a lake in Louisiana during one spring break during high school, and Frankie got bit twice by a catfish. Once on the toe (he stuck his foot into a catfish hole, what did he expect?) and once on the dick. Santi laughed for ten minutes straight and called Frankie ‘Catfish’ for three weeks in a row after that. Once that story got around to the Miller boys, he was dubbed Catfish for the duration of his life. (Yes I know he probably got the nickname because of his facial hair, but shh, let me have my fun)
Frankie loves all his mission partners, but he’s closest with Benny. No one knows why. (Frankie knows why. He won’t tell anyone.)
For real, the reason Benny and Frankie are so close is because they were in a relationship at one point. It started as Benny exploring his sexuality, and then Frankie admitting he had a small crush on Benny, and then boom. Secret relationship. It only lasted a year (ish) but neither have forgotten and they’re still very very close to each other.
Frankie grew up in a huge and mildly problematic family. He was one of seven kids, and his parents were divorced.
Frankie’s a twin. He’s the younger one, and his twin sister is his best friend (aside from the boys).
Out of everyone on this headcanon list, Frankie’s the one with the most prominent and well cared for curls. Get his hair long enough and give it a good wash, and he’ll have those thick springy curls that are super fun to tug on and watch them bounce.
Frankie mourned Tom the longest.
Frankie’s favorite movie, hands down no questions at all, is How to Train Your Dragon. Specifically the second one.
Frankie’s sense of balance is somehow both impeccable and a goddamn horror show. He’s super stable and pretty steady when he has to be, but any other time, and he will constantly be tripping over his own two feet and dropping things and running into the corners of cabinets.
It isn’t odd to find Frankie with one or two band-aids and bruises on his body. He likes the fun character band-aids that are technically for kids. Let the man have Hello Kitty band-aids goddammit!
Frankie only has one phobia. Needles.
Frankie is the oldest of the boys after Tom died. Tom was older than him by two years, but Frankie’s got nine months on Santi, four years on Will, and six years on Benny. They tease the shit out of him and all routinely call him old. He joins in when his back aches.
Frankie’s a textbook Hufflepuff.
Frankie listens to My Chemical Romance when he exercises.
Frankie’s favorite fruit, if not his favorite food ever, is raspberries. He can, will, and has eaten three pounds of raspberries in one sitting. He was camping with the boys, and he threw them up half an hour later.
Frankie doesn’t complain about anything. If he starts telling the boys he’s in a little bit of pain, they immediately translate that into ‘Fish is actively dying.’
When the Boys were active duty, their team had no field medic, so Frankie was not only their pilot, but also their medic. He’s incredibly skilled when it comes to medicine, and could probably go to school to become a nurse if he wanted to.
Frankie hates being called Francisco. To him, it’s too formal and not a name that suits him. Not even Tom called him that, and that’s saying something, because Tom always used full names.
Frankie listens to ASMR videos to help him fall asleep.
Frankie always carries a small mass-market sized book when he goes on missions. Usually, it’s a fantasy novel like Game of Thrones or some sort of classic like the Hobbit, and he reads whatever he brought to help him fall asleep. Of course, this progressed into him reading an entire Witcher book to Benny on a long mission when Benny couldn’t sleep, but he likes Benny and he likes the book, so he won’t complain.
You cannot convince me that Frankie wasn’t the king of illegal and semi-legal drag racing when he was in his early twenties.
Upon realizing he had enough friends to be the Ghostbusters for Halloween, Frankie spent three years convincing his friends to go to a costume party with him as the Ghostbusters. Was Benny sad he couldn’t be a Ghostbuster? A little. Was he hella stoked to be the secretary? Yes he was. Did Frankie nearly piss himself laughing when Benny put the wig on? You bet he did.
Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels:
Some of the younger statesman agents (like Tequila) call Jack ‘Old Man.’ He doesn’t mind. This progressed into Tequila calling him Dad as a joke, and now literally anyone ten years younger than him calls him Dad for serious. Does he mind? Not really.
Jack’s nickname from Ginger is Casanova because of how overly flirty he is.
Jack’s favorite song is ‘Why’d you come in here looking like that’ closely followed by ‘9 to 5.’ Can you tell he just really likes Dolly Parton?
Jack has been fatally injured seven times. Four head shots, one lung shot, and two cases of poisoning.
When he gets drunk, Jack will try and do stupid stunts with his lasso. He gave himself a black eye once because he pulled a chair into his face.
Jack grew up on a ranch, and when his father passed away, he inherited it
Because of the ranch, Jack is an expert horseback rider. He used to compete professionally in rodeos before he became a Statesman agent.
He has plenty of animals, but his favorite are the cows! The cows don’t do much except look cute, and his favorite is Bella, who greets him every night when he comes home from work.
Jack loves old music. Catch him early in the morning dancing to whatever is playing on the 50’s station on the radio. He’s a huge goof about it too. Using the dirty spatula as a microphone and slipping around in his socks until he’s tripping and falling onto the floor. What a dork.
When he learned his wife was pregnant, he cried. A lot.
His wife wanted a baby boy because she wanted him to look like Jack. Jack wanted a baby girl to spoil absolutely rotten. Neither of them knew, but his wife was pregnant with twins, a boy and a girl. They only knew about the boy.
Jack is magic in the kitchen. He can cook just about anything, and will regularly try and replicate intricate and difficult dishes because they look cool. He is, however, entirely hopeless at baking.
Once, Jack got into a very heated argument about Frankenstein with Ginger. They were both tipsy and he’s incredibly passionate about Frankenstein, which resulted in an argument that was 90% him just going on and on about how Victor Frankenstein was the real monster.
Jack has questionable taste in movies. If he had his way, he’d watch The Man From Uncle every fucking day.
Jack and Ginger are actually pretty close. They act like annoying same age cousins who are super close and also don’t like each other but hang out at every family function because everyone else completely sucks and they only mildly suck.
Jack’s relationship with Tequila is rocky because of the generation gap, but he genuinely cares for the younger agent, and Tequila absolutely sees Jack as a super chill parental figure.
Jack’s entire family lives in Tennessee. His ranch is out there, but for work purposes, he also has an apartment in Kentucky, New York, and California. His favorite place to reside is the Tennessee ranch. It’s the one with the most roots for him and there’s a Tennessee Statesman office, so his commute isn’t horrible.
Aside from the ranch and the apartments, Jack technically has one more house. Located in the middle of goddamn nowhere Virginia, he owns land and a small farmhouse where he was going to retire and raise his kids.
Jack has a very odd skill. He’s able to fall asleep in the bathtub. He takes baths for his aching muscles (age isn’t kind to him) and more often than not, he’ll drift off or fully fall asleep.
Jack is the worst bed partner. He kicks and wiggles and talks in his sleep. Anyone who’s ever shared a bed with him has woken up with at least one bruise that Jack apologized for.
Jack would’ve been the very first agent to ever celebrate their 50th birthday with Statesman. Champ took over when he was 54, and most other agents die or retire before they reach 50. Jack was the closest before he got meat grinded. He was 45.
In true cowboy fashion, Jack can play a few instruments. The typical ones, like guitar, are expected, and he’s not half bad on the banjo. However, he can also play the fiddle. He can play the fiddle extremely well. He likes to play Cotton Eyed Joe and Timber relentlessly just to piss Ginger off.
Jack’s favorite pool activity is laying on a pool float and reading. Give him a sappy romance novel and a pair of sunglasses and he’s good for the afternoon. Just make sure to check on him every so often and remind him to put on some damn sunscreen, because he will forget.
As a ‘training exercise,’ Ginger made Jack play horror games while filming his reactions and counting his BPM. Somewhere in the Statesman archives exists a disc with Jack’s frantic screaming and violently swearing as he played Poppy Playtime. He fell off the couch trying to play the game, and made Ginger swear to burn the damn disc. In the background, you can absolutely hear Tequila and Ginger losing their shit. Tequila watches it when he misses Jack. It makes him happy.
Ezra:
Ezra straight up legally adopted Cee once the events of the film were over.
I have said this multiple times, but I can finally elaborate! Ezra’s an orphan, and he was orphaned at a young age, about six. So he became a ward of the state. They took his surname and gave him a number. He was and still is Ezra 4053. His living conditions were complete shit. He was constantly sick, usually abused by the caregivers, and never had a full meal until the day he turned 18 and became a prospector.
Ezra has two books that mean more to him than everything else he owns combined. One is an old book of poems, and the other is a journal he fills with his own poetry.
Ezra smells like cloves.
He doesn’t remember, but his mother used to have a big furry cat that was named Starlight. Starlight was Ezra’s best friend before she died of old age when he was five.
Ezra’s parents died in a vehicle accident. He was in the vehicle when it crashed. He was the only survivor.
Ezra’s more of an audiobook person, and he likes to listen to them while prospecting.
Post-amputation, Ezra gets horrible phantom limb pain. Cee found a solution. She’ll sit on his bed and describe, in very vivid detail, what she’s doing to his missing hand. Sometimes she holds it, sometimes she paints his nails, and once she braided a friendship bracelet onto it. It really helps remind Ezra there’s nothing there.
Ezra likes to have physical photos of events. His memory is horrible due to the Green, so he likes to have evidence that events happen. Cee helps him date the photos, and even puts little captions on them.
The blonde streak in Ezra’s hair is natural. It used to be super faded and hard to see, but became sharper and more prominent as he got older.
After the Green, Ezra needs to sleep with a machine that helps regulate his breathing because of all the damage he did to his lungs.
Ezra’s a side and belly sleeper, and he physically cannot fall asleep if he’s on his back.
Ezra is extremely claustrophobic.
Ezra likes to try new hobbies to see if any will stick. So far, he’s only had a few that have lasted. Those are flower pressing, embroidery, reading, and the most recent one is painting.
If Ezra were to have a dog, it would be a greyhound.
Ezra’s favorite color is yellow.
Surprisingly, Ezra hates coffee. He prefers tea, especially citrusy teas.
Ezra fears almost nothing. He isn’t scared of blood or pain or heights or anything else. The only thing he won’t do is bugs. If it has more than four legs, it’s a huge no and he might run away screaming. He may or may not have been a giant baby when a spider got into his pod once. Cee had to escort said spider outside because no matter how scared of them he is, Ezra doesn’t want to kill anything that didn’t try to kill him first.
Ezra runs warm. I’m talking this man is practically a walking furnace.
Ezra doesn’t know, but the thing that relaxes him most, especially on jobs, is some form of oral fixation. If he can, he’ll chew/suck on his fingers because that calms him the most. If he can’t, or if Cee catches him with half his index finger in his mouth, he gets to have a piece of hard candy or a rubbery toy on a necklace to chew or suck on.
Before he became a prospector, Ezra wanted to be a prosthetics mechanic. He thinks it’s ironic that that was his dream job and now here he is, in need of a prosthetic himself.
Ezra’s great grandmother was a luthier, and he grew up surrounded by her music and her skill. Everyone in his family used to joke that he inherited her steady hands because he used to show off his nearly flawless carving work. Now, after the loss of his family and one of his hands, he almost wants to pick up his great grandmother’s old job and retire to become a luthier like her.
Ezra has no idea how the hell bath bombs work but he loves them so goddamn much.
Ezra is an oversized sweaters kind of man. Cee ties his right sleeve into a knot so it doesn’t flop around and annoy him. Do they have matching holiday sweaters? Yes they do!
Bonus: Ezra is still mad they took Prospect off of Netflix. So is Dewey. Dewey is verymad.
Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey:
Everyone expects Dio’s favorite movie to be some bloody horror show, but it isn’t. His favorite movie is the Addams Family Values. His favorite character is Morticia.
Dio is deathly allergic to peanuts.
For three Halloweens in a row, Dio was Beetlejuice. He dyed his hair green instead of buying a wig all three times.
Dio is the youngest of four kids. He was originally one of two boys, but his older brother came out as trans, so now he’s the only boy. The kids are, in order, Everly, Vivianne, Brynn, and then Dio.
Dio’s got a really sensitive stomach and some mild to moderate digestion issues.
He also needs glasses. Badly. But will he ever wear them? Absolutely not they ruin his vibe.
Dio has never owned a car and he has no driver’s license.
When Dio gets drunk, he’s a completely different person. He will not shut his mouth and is usually pretty happy. It’s the only time anyone outside of his family can ever see him smile genuinely.
Dio grew up on Percy Jackson, which progressed into a really big Greek Mythology obsession. He knows every popular myth and a fair amount of the obscure ones. His favorite myth is the myth of Hades and Persephone. (Duh)
Dio hasn’t seen a dentist in a decade. Why? Because they terrify him.
The first time he dyed his hair, it wasn’t black. It was electric blue and he wore that color for a while. He only started doing black after he’d exhausted every other color he wanted to try.
Dio still has a bunch of stuffed animals. He sleeps with one, a stuffed deer he named Doe.
Dio feeds all the stray cats that live around his apartment. He named them all and if he notices any of them are young or pregnant, he’ll do his best to catch them and take them somewhere safe.
Dio’s not close with his dad, but he is very close with his mom.
While he always paints his fingernails black, Dio likes to paint his toenails funky colors. No one’s ever gonna see, so why does it matter?
Dio’s very good with babies, which shocks a lot of people. But he grew up with three older sisters who all loved to play dolls and house and all that, and he didn’t hate it. He actually took a parenting class in high school, and all three of his sisters have a hilarious photo of Dio wearing a pregnancy belly.
Dio didn’t start the whole goth thing until he moved out. Before that, he was really full of life with his colorful hair and innocent smile. His mother suspects it’s because he isn’t around family anymore, because he always becomes that smiley kid again when he’s with his sisters.
Dio’s got three face piercings that aren’t in his ears. He has snake bites, and those rings are black. But he’s also got a silver tongue piercing.
He shaves his legs. It’s purely for comfort when he sleeps.
Dio used to have long hair, and he always tied it back with scrunchies he borrowed from his sisters.
Dio doesn’t drink enough water, but he does make up for it by chewing on ice all day long.
Whenever he walks around the city, he’ll listen to Green Day.
Dio watches Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune every night.
The only person who’s ever allowed to call Dio ‘Shane’ is his mother. His oldest sister tried once and he wrestled her for ten minutes straight.
Dio’s favorite color isn’t black. It’s actually navy.
Dio didn’t pick ‘Dio’ as his nickname. It was given to him by one of the people who joined his cult as a way to worship him as a god, and he just sort of embraced it until it became his name. Even so, he does still feel uncomfortable going around calling himself ‘God’ all the time. It’s one of the reasons he hasn’t changed his name legally.
Don’t ask why, but Dio is a master at ballroom dancing.
(Spicey Warning) Everyone assumes Dio’s a top and loves to dominate in bed. In actuality, Dio is 100% a bottom and a huge brat.
Dio’s dream job is nurse. Not a doctor. Nurse. Especially before moving out and living on his own, he desperately wanted to help people, but now, that plan is down the drain. He still hopes there’s a way for him to afford/get into a good school to make his way toward his dream though.
Dio’s favorite animal of all time is the sea turtle.
Javier Peña:
Javier has perfected the art of ‘only one bed.’ 90% of the time he’ll take the couch or something, but when it’s Steve, they’re close enough to share the bed without it feeling too awkward.
He doesn’t eat breakfast. Or lunch really. Dinner is also iffy. He eats when he can, it doesn’t matter if it’s a mealtime or not.
He’ll threaten your life if you take and/or touch his coffee. He drinks it at all hours of the day, and it’s his second worst habit.
Once, someone (Steve) tried to instate a rule that Javier couldn’t have coffee between noon and midnight because that much caffeine wasn’t healthy. He found a loophole within two days. That loophole was caffeinated tea.
On Sundays, Javier will sit in front of a tiny radio and listen to football scores from Texas. He did it once on a stakeout with Steve, who’s from California, and their respective teams were playing each other. That stakeout almost ended in a fistfight.
Javier would rather die than admit it, but he’s a cat person.
Because he grew up in rural Texas and then spent a whole decade (?) doing car chases in Colombia, Javier drives like a maniac. Speed limits? Who cares! He learned to drive on back roads and dirt paths where the speed limit was whatever your car could feasibly do, and his reckless driving was only reinforced during his time in Colombia! What I’m saying is, Steve will never get in another car with Javier unless Javi is the passenger. Ever.
Javier can ride horses like nobody’s business. He’s also pretty decent at rodeo, but was never good enough to compete.
Javier had five sisters. Three older and two younger.
Whenever anyone finds a baby while working, they call Javier. He has a natural affinity for babies. He holds them and sings in Spanish and generally keeps them calm until the professionals arrive.
Javier has no clue where the nickname ‘Javi’ came from. Was it his sisters? Was it his coworkers? Was it Steve? He doesn’t remember, and he really doesn’t care.
Javier was hospitalized four times during his time in Colombia.
He once jumped into a burning building to get trapped sex workers out.
Javier treats everyone equally. He’s courteous and forgiving right up until you’ve proven yourself a giant asshole. Until then, he’s got those precious southern manners and he ain’t afraid to use them.
Javier’s got a huge soft spot for younger, eager eyed agents. He still remembers when he was like that, and he’ll try to preserve that innocence as long as he can.
Every single time he plays, Javier wins Monopoly by a wide margin.
While he doesn’t want kids of his own, Javier loves being the fun uncle Javi.
Javier’s a cold pizza kind of person.
When Javier was little, he used to practice crochet and knitting with his sisters. Every blanket he keeps in his apartment in Columbia is handmade, and he crochets an ass ton of stuff for Steve’s baby.
Javier is technically deaf. Because of all the explosions and gunshots, Javier’s hearing is abysmal, and if he cared enough to see a doctor, he’d get told he should probably be using hearing aids.
When he was little, Javier had these thick as shit Coke bottle glasses that he despised with a passion. As soon as they became safe, he started to use contacts instead of glasses.
Javier likes to go to local farmer’s markets on the weekends. He really likes fresh produce.
Maxwell Lord:
Max still sleeps with a teddy bear. Deep down, he knows that it’s a sign of trauma because he had most of his comforts taken when he was too young, but he doesn’t care. The bear’s name is Jo.
Max loves the Fourth of July solely for the fireworks.
In the beginning, Max did his best to seem human to all of his clients and customers. He never wanted to be like the fake salesmen on TV.
Alistair was born of a one night stand, and the woman involved hates Max’s guts. He does his best to ignore her.
Max looks almost nothing like his dad, and everything like his mom.
In high school, Max was bullied for his features, specifically his nose. It took him a decade and a half to finally accept his image.
Max has a cat. She’s a fluffy, spoiled, and entirely gorgeous white cat named Duchess.
Max never really learned how to communicate or process his feelings. He’s prone to outbursts, and can often be described as childish due to his lack of grasp on his emotions.
On a happier note, Max’s favorite ice cream flavor is Neapolitan.
Max’s handwriting has two modes. It’s either beautifully legible cursive or unreadable chicken scratch, and there is no in between.
Max loves to garden. He specifically likes to weed. There’s just something oddly relaxing about pulling out the weeds to him.
Max likes to play single man card games. Solitaire is his jam.
As polished as Max may look on TV, he doesn’t look like that every day. In fact, usually when he’s home, he’s in pyjamas.
Max gets the worst bedheads.
He can’t really tell, but Max is a tiny bit red/green colorblind.
Max is a giant lightweight.
Max actually likes Hawaiian pizza.
Sleeping in the same bed as Max is damn near impossible. He sleeps like a cat, all sprawled out in positions that cannot possibly be comfortable.
Max’s spring allergies are the absolute worst. I’m talking constantly congested, sneezing six or seven times in a row, and red rimmed eyes nearly every day.
Social cues are Max’s worst goddamn enemy. He doesn’t understand them! He has to literally train himself to recognize social cues and how to respond to them so people don’t think he’s an idiot.
Pretty early on, Max had to learn how to alter his own clothes out of necessity. Now, he doesn’t even need to think about it when he has anything that doesn’t fit, he just plops down at his sewing machine and fixes it himself, no fuss no muss.
Max’s only phobia is the doctor and/or medical settings.
Someone get this poor man a decent sleep schedule. Max routinely stays up until well past midnight, even when he has to be at the office super early. He just can’t turn his brain off so he can’t sleep until he literally works himself into a state of pure exhaustion.
Max still sleeps with a nightlight.
Max has a huge collection of classic novels that he prides himself on owning. Technically though, he has two collections. One is on display in his office, and all those books are in English and they’re all fancy and beautiful. The other one is a less put together shelf that’s hidden in his home of the exact same books, only in Spanish. That collection is his ragtag, fifty cent, none of them match, some are literally falling apart, book collection. He used to use his pocket money to buy books, and that old shelf of Spanish classics is full of books he bought himself when he was a child learning English.
Max has to literally fight for time with his son. Alistair’s mother thinks he’s a horrible influence, so he has to fight her tooth and nail for more than a weekend every other week.
Max runs warm. He always has and he always will. He used to give the school nurse a fright because he’d come to school with what was technically very close to a fever, but no, that’s just his regular body temperature.
The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.
“This is bull.”
You hummed, looking around the parking lot.
“I hate this!”
Rolling your eyes, you found your parking spot and pulled in, finally turning to face the complaining vampire in your backseat. “Do you ever stop complaining?”
Max huffed, crossing his arms and sighing. “I don’t like Halloween.”
“Yes I know,” you promised, unbuckling your seatbelt. “You told me about eighty seven times while we were driving.”
“It’s a stupid ass holiday,” Max continued, but he sat up and began to climb out of your backseat all the same. “Humans don’t get it.”
You smiled, handing Max his coat. It wasn’t particularly chilly out, but the sun was still setting and you couldn’t risk the burns. He took the coat and slung it over his shoulders, handing you your hat. You put it on, adjusting your sunglasses and winking to Max. He grinned, peeking one of his fangs out.
“Freaks headed to the freak show,” Max said cheerfully, putting his arm around your shoulders as you began to enter the park. “Let’s go have some fun.”
Truthfully, spending your Halloween at a theme park wasn’t your idea of fun either. You’d much rather be at your small townhouse, doing your Samhain rituals in the backyard while Max made dinner. But one of your close friends had two extra tickets and you had a boyfriend and no real plans. It was an impromptu and unexpected date night.
“Should we keep a cringe counter?” Max asked, already giving the side eye to a ridiculously stereotypical vampire.
You laughed, handing the ticket booth employee your tickets. “Hush,” you murmured.
Max rolled his eyes, but shut up until you were in the park. You’d been to Universal a few times in your youth, but it had been a good few years since you’d been. “Do you want to ride anything?” You asked. “Or do some haunted houses?”
“We live in a haunted house,” Max pointed out. “But sure. Whatever you want to do.”
You took Max’s hand, feeling the chill from his fingertips race up your arm. No matter how many heat sigils you traced into the skin of his back, he was still cold as a midwinter day, but you didn’t mind all too much. “Let’s look around,” you decided. “See if anything catches our eyes.”
Max nodded, looking at a few people wandering around. “There are those scare actors here, right?”
“Scare zones,” you said. “There are a handful. Between your life and mine, I’m sure we can handle it.”
“There’s a corn maze,” Max noticed, pointing to a path labeled with a few different attractions. “I want to do that at some point tonight.”
You looked over. “Of course,” you said. “That looks like fun.”
“But first we need to eat,” Max added, and you grinned.
“Yes we do.”
You ended up eating at one of the small food stands set up. You got yourself a sandwich, sitting with Max on a low wall while he drank from his water bottle. Every so often, you’d wave your hand as if you were swatting bugs away, but in reality, you were casting minuscule spells. Using the full moon in the sky to recharge the spell jars hidden in your bag, carefully making sure both yours and Max’s glamours were still active, just in case anything spooked you and you dropped into your real forms. But the biggest, the one that made sweat gather under your hat, was refilling Max’s bottle as he drank. You had learned the transfer spell ages ago, but never in a million years imagined you’d be transferring your blood into a water bottle for your boyfriend.
“Stop that,” Max said firmly while you were in the middle casting.
“Stop what?” You asked, putting your hand down and taking another bite of your food. The broken concentration fizzed in the air, causing your head to spin ever so slightly.
Max huffed. “Refilling me. If I need your blood, I’ll ask.”
Smiling, you nodded. “Of course. Just trying to make sure we’re both okay for tonight. Not much privacy in a theme park.”
“I’m sure we’ll find a way,” Max purred, smiling at you when you made a face.
“Quit teasing in public,” you said, your smile infecting your words. “C’mon. I saw a haunted house I wanted to do that I think you’ll like too.”
Max dutifully followed you as you led him down a few paths, eventually finding the haunted house you wanted to participate in.
“Really?” He asked, seeing the vibrant greens and purples and reds. “A Beetlejuice themed haunted house?”
“No vampires, no witches,” you explained. “Plus, I love this movie!”
With one final sigh, Max allowed you to tug him into the line. “I’m only doing this because I love you,” he reminded you as you eagerly began to wait. “This movie was never my favorite.”
“So what is your favorite Halloween movie?” You asked, purely curious.
“Hocus Pocus.”
“I’m sorry?” The answer was so certain and so unexpected that it took you a minute to process what the hell Max had just said. “It is not!”
Max nodded. “Is too,” he retaliated. “I loved it when I was in high school.”
You couldn’t help but laugh. Max Phillips, your hardcore vampire boyfriend who hated anything childish or ridiculous, was saying his favorite Halloween movie was a kid’s film from the 90’s. “I bet you love Halloweentown too,” you said.
“What’s Halloweentown?” Max asked genuinely, his eyes going wide the same cute way they always did when he was actually curious.
You gasped happily. “Oh! It’s this god awful Disney film from the late 90’s. We’ve got to watch it tonight!”
Max’s smile made your belly warm as he put his arms around you and pulled you close. “If you say so,” he murmured into your hat.
The wait for the haunted house wasn’t much longer, and it was genuinely fun. Even Max smiled once or twice as you walked through. But it wasn’t terribly scary, which was good. Although between Max’s senses and your litany of spells, you doubted anything would truly scare you tonight.
“That was fun!” You decided as you walked out of the haunted house. “Really cute!”
Max chuckled, putting an arm over your shoulders and gently steering you away from the house. “It wasn’t so bad,” he admitted. “Wanna ride some stuff, play some of those shitty games, and then hit the corn maze before heading out?”
“Yeah,” you said, reaching up and rubbing an embroidered sigil on your hat’s brim. You wiped your warm thumbs across Max’s cheeks, smiling when he scrunched his face up. “You need to warm up,” you said, tucking your still tingling hands into your pockets.
Max stuck his tongue out at you. “Okay mom,” he said, voice tinged with amused annoyance. “Where to first?”
In the end, you two rode a few tame rides, the Ferris wheel being both of your favorites, mostly because Max could feed off of you while you were at the top. You toppled off the ride weak kneed and grinning, Max’s smug smile definitely making the teenaged ride attendant think you two had fucked at the top of the Ferris wheel.
“Rigged games?” Max asked, gesturing to a path that would lead you to the games.
“Yeah!” You said happily. “I could always use a new stuffed animal.”
You two began to head down the path, which just so happened to be a scare zone. You gripped Max’s hand tight, your magic creeping up your back as screams echoed around you. The zone was just outside a haunted house themed like a hospital, so all the scarers were medical themed. You sensed one coming before they scared you, and when the zombified nurse popped out at you, both you and Max feigned fright before watching the nurse slide off to go find someone else to spook.
“Well that was fun,” Max said when you left the zone, looking at the games to play. “Still good?”
“Our glamours are getting shaky,” you realized, fishing out the charm necklace that supported your spell. “Don’t go all bloodsucking bastard on me please. I can’t hide it.”
Max nodded. “I’ll do my best,” he promised, taking your hands. “C’mon. I smell cider. You need to drink something. Keep your strength up.”
Max bought you a cup of warm cider that you sipped gratefully while he led you around, asking about various games.
“Rigged beyond my power,” you decided for most of them. “Half of these are physically impossible, even for me and you.”
“What about that one?” Max asked, gesturing to a simple game. Land a coin on the pedestal, win a prize. Seemed easy enough.
“Physics isn’t on your side,” you said. “But yeah I could fake that.”
Max smiled. “Gotta lose a bit,” he said, fishing five dollars out of his pocket. “Make it seem legit.”
The game attendant handed Max a small cup of quarters, and Max took one. “Here goes nothing,” he said, winking at you. Of course, he failed miserably, but you expected that. His next few tries were also failures, but he was getting closer, sometimes with your help.
“Stop wasting magic,” Max warned you under his breath as he wasted another coin. “You’re running low.”
“Am not,” you muttered. Truthfully, you were, but you had enough to last you the night. You were sure of it.
Max flipped another coin, and just to prove him wrong, you spun your wrist, tracing a luck sigil in the air and activating the luck jar in your bag. The coin spun through the air, and you blew out as if out of breath, casting the spell into the wind. Two seconds later, the coin was landing perfectly face up on the pedestal.
“Congrats!” The attendant said happily. “Go ahead and pick a prize.”
Behind you, Max glared at you as you cheerfully told the attendant you wanted the little witch cat stuffed animal. You hugged the stuffie tight as you walked away, happily smiling into the black fur.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Max chastised as you walked. “You’re putting yourself at risk.”
“I won’t run out of magic,” you promised, breathing in deeply as you passed a cart selling warm funnel cake. “I burned a Samhain candle this morning to keep me up, and I’ve got moon water in my bag. I made sure to pack extra jars to keep me level all night, and there’s a full moon tonight. I can always do more under a full moon. Tonight, when we get back, we’ll watch a movie and I’ll do my rituals. Sounds good?”
Max huffed. “Earlier, you told me you didn’t have enough for our glamours. Please just be careful,” he said, pressing a warm kiss to your cheek. “Let’s go find that corn maze. It’s getting late.”
You yawned, nodding. “I love corn mazes,” you admitted as you walked, one hand holding the witch cat and the other holding Max’s hand. “I’m really good at them.”
“I bet,” Max said. “You’ve always been good at navigation.”
“It’s all part of the charm,” you said in a sing-song voice.
There was a pretty short line in front of the maze, and you happily got tickets and began to walk through the paths. It was getting darker by the second, and you gripped Max tight so you didn’t lose him. Far off screams echoed out, and every so often the corn would rustle. You knew there were scarers in the maze, but your spells were wearing too low to sense them.
“Two people up ahead,” Max murmured. “Scarers, by the smell of them.”
You nodded, but even with the warning, when the two people popped up, both holding chainsaws and laughing maniacally, you yelped anyway. They came running at you, and your mind kicked into gear much too fast. You took off, running as fast as you could, aided by your magic. It was only when you stopped to breathe that you realized you were alone. 100% alone. Max was gone.
“Max!” You yelled, frantically tucking the witch cat into your bag and beginning to wander, hoping your feet took you back to your boyfriend. “Max!”
A rustle in the corn spooked you, causing you to turn and put your hands up. “Max?” You asked softly, creeping backwards, just in case. “Is that you?” Panic magic coursed through your veins, and you were sure your eyes were glowing right now, the way they always did when your magic hit ten.
No response, and the rustling stopped, so you put your hands down, took a breath, and kept walking. Your sunglasses, which had been shoved down into a side pocket in your bag, were out again, hiding the vibrant purple glow of your eyes. You couldn’t do anything about the shine at your skin where your veins sat, the gentle purple shimmer illuminating under your shirt. All you could do was hope.
Eventually, you found someone. A close-by set of footsteps echoed behind you, and you turned, seeing a man dressed as a scarecrow standing shock still behind you, his arms out. You could hear his shallow breaths and his heart beating in his chest, and you began to walk backwards, keeping an eye on him the entire time. Which was probably why you didn’t notice the second scarer behind you.
Screeching as you unexpectedly collided with the second scarecrow, magic exploded off your body, sending purple ripples through the air and rustling the corn dangerously, smoke pouring out of your hands as you unknowingly cast a distraction spell. Neither scarecrow had the time to even comprehend what was happening before you were running again, taking twists and turns before finally, finally, you ran straight into a very familiar set of arms.
“Max!” You sobbed, holding your boyfriend tight. “Max!”
Max held you close, protectively wrapping you in his arms. “Hey, I’m here,” he soothed. “I saw your magic and came as fast as I could. Are you okay?”
You shook your head, still crying, the pearlescent purple tears staining Max’s shirt. “I wanna go home,” you said weakly. “Feel like ‘m gonna puke.”
“I know,” Max said, tipping your sunglasses up to reveal your eyes. “Oh honey you’re all purple. You must be exhausted. C’mon.” He draped his coat over you, hiding the bright shine of your veins and setting your glasses over your eyes again. You breathed a shaking breath out as Max scooped you into a bridal carry and began to navigate out of the maze.
“Hey!”
Max turned, and you peeped an eye open to see one of the scarers running towards you.
“Are y’all okay?” The scarer asked, lifting their mask. “One of our smoke machines and light sets went haywire out here. Surprised it didn’t set part of the field on fire. We’re evacuating this part of the maze until we can fix the issue.”
Max nodded. “Yeah, we heard it,” he said. “Gave my partner one hell of a scare.”
The scarer made a sympathetic face. “I see,” they said. “Here, take this.” They dug a glowing necklace out of their pocket and handed it to Max. “This’ll keep the other scarers off you until you exit.”
Max hung the necklace off your neck, the glowing purple lights helping hide your natural shine.
You eventually made it out of the maze, not really noticing until you were in the car, your hat pulled off and laid across the car’s dashboard. Max cranked the heater, handing you your water bottle. “Drink,” he murmured. “It’ll help.”
The moon water did help, calming your fried nerves and dialing your glow down until it was no more than a faint shimmer pulsing with your heartbeat. You did your best not to pass out on Max as he drove home, but the lack of magic in your body made you feel like complete shit, and you power napped all the way home.
“Bedtime,” Max murmured as he pulled into the driveway, waking you up. “C’mon, let’s head in.”
“But you’ve gotta watch Halloweentown,” you insisted sleepily, allowing Max to help you to your feet and aid you in walking into the house. You hung your hat by the door, yawning widely and kicking your shoes off.
Max chuckled. “Alright,” he said. “We’ll watch the movie. Then you can do your rituals after, okay?”
You nodded. “Okay,” you agreed sleepily.
It took some finagling, but ten minutes later, you were snuggled up in one of Max’s shirts and your old pj bottoms, Max beside you on the couch in similar attire. You watched as he cued up the movie, snuggling up against him and letting your eyes flutter shut. The exhaustion was worked into your very bones, and you knew Max didn’t mind when you held him close as you fell asleep.
True to his word, Max woke you for your midnight rituals, gently shaking your shoulder and handing you your hat. You smiled, slightly rejuvenated, the nap having given you just enough magic back to lay your things across the table on the back deck, casting the magic that would complete the rituals and bless you and your magic until Yule.
When you wandered back inside, fully yourself again, you saw Max waiting for you on the couch. “Feeling better?”
“Much,” you said, taking your hat off and plopping down on the couch. “Ready for bed.”
Max smiled. “Long day,” he said, pulling you against him. “Let’s just sleep here.”
“Watching shitty Halloween movies?” You added hopefully, and Max laughed.
“Of course,” he said, kissing your forehead. “Hocus Pocus?”
You nodded, glad that, at the end of the crazy day, you had Max to hold you and comfort you through it all.
