#nypd blue

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/GN! Reader

Word Count: 1,942

Warnings: Shane gets injured once, but this is fluff.

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell@star-wars-hell​

A/N: I forgot Shane’s story takes place in 2001. Oops. Enjoy a modern AU? Oh, and reader is an actor who plays a female lead, but the story itself is still gender neutral and uses GN language for the reader.

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given by the new and improved @writer-wednesday​​!

Living in New York City was not as glamorous and glitzy as many people assumed. You worked three jobs, two to support you and one to chase your dreams. By day you were either a bookstore clerk or a waiter, and by night you worked your ass off at a small theater just off Broadway, desperately clawing your way up the ladder and hoping you could catch a break one day. 

Today wasn’t that day, but you were still hopeful. 

Sighing, you rearranged the small collection of glass trinkets you kept on your side table, trying to fix the ones that had fallen as the train went by, rattling the windows and shaking all your things. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, seeing another crack in a small clay pot. “I’ll fix it later.” 

That was how your life operated. Under a very strange ‘fix it later’ policy. Your lack of a relationship? Fix it later. The absence of a clean place to live? Later. The fact that you hadn’t seen your family in years? Very later. 

“On in fifteen!” 

The one thing you couldn’t ever save for later was your job. The nightlife of New York City was where you thrived, throwing your every emotion bare onto a stage for all to see. And now, that night life was singing your name. 

Standing and adjusting your shirt, you stretched your shoulders before practically prancing out into the wings, your eagerness for the show burning in your chest as you slipped your shoes on. After literal years of scraping money together and bargain after bargain, the theater had finally been able to access the rights to Moulin Rouge. And you, by some miracle of grace, were playing the sparkling diamond herself. 

Situating yourself on the swing, you crossed your legs, adjusted your dress, and did your best to look very dainty as the crew raised you up as carefully as possible. The music changed, and you were slowly lowered down, singing the entire time. 

The show was an old favorite of yours, and you knew it by heart. Knew every breath and move and knew just how to execute them perfectly. 

By the time the intermission rolled around, you were burning off the last of your show adrenaline, the eagerness pumping through your veins finally beginning to fade into practiced professionalism. 

“Thanks,” you said to the assistant who handed you a water bottle, taking a sip of water and sighing. “How’re we doing?” 

“Doing amazing,” one of your coworkers said. “You’re practically glowing.” 

“All part of the charm,” you said happily, twirling around and grinning. As you turned, you noticed a flash of movement above you, and you couldn’t help yourself as you cast your gaze to the catwalk. 

You squinted, attempting to see what your periphery had just noticed. After a second, you caught it, seeing a lithe figure lounging amidst the lights, his feet swinging over thirty feet of nothingness. You tipped your head. From where you were, you could see him, but no one in the audience nor anyone on stage could due to the lights. Plus, no one was crazy enough to climb up there. The catwalks were so rickety that even the tech people were hesitant to shimmy their way up there. 

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a stray,” you said softly, nudging your coworker. She looked up, following your eyes, and grinned. 

“That’s Shane,” she said. “He’s probably hiding again. Don’t pay him any mind.” 

“Hiding?” You mused, half to yourself. “Interesting.” 

All throughout your time backstage, you watched Shane. He was very interesting to watch, with his curled up form and perfectly at-ease face. He sang along, smiling and laughing at the show. One leg was always dangling over the edge, but the other stayed tucked to his chest, his arms pillowing his head as he leaned ever so slightly over the catwalk bar to get a better look at the show. 

Finally, when it all ended and you’d practically sung yourself silent, you climbed silently up to the catwalk. Your shoes were off, the tights on your feet muffling your gentle steps. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, settling beside Shane and watching guests depart the theater. The poor thing nearly jumped out of his skin, scrambling away and almost falling. You caught him, gripping his jacket rather tight so he didn’t topple overboard. 

“Scared the fuck outta me,” he groaned, chest heaving. “Shit. Has anyone ever told you you’re silent as the fucking grave?” 

You smiled proudly. “Sometimes.” 

“They should tell you more often,” Shane said. “And no.” 

“No?” 

Shane looked down, across the stage. “No penny for my thoughts.” 

You chuckled. “I was only trying to break the ice,” you said. “I’ve never seen you here before. I’m (F/N).” 

Shane held up a playbill, the cover page crinkled and warped. “I know,” he said. “I’m Shane.” 

Pointing to your coworker who’d told you about him, you grinned at Shane. “I know.” 

That was it for your conversation. You bid Shane good night, advising him to leave before the doors locked up. He nodded, standing and walking the opposite direction you were, humming a show tune the entire time. 

You wiped your makeup off quickly, hurrying home before the city grew too dangerous. It was an art you’d perfected, shutting and locking your door and windows just as the clock struck midnight. Falling into bed, you groaned, hoarse voice clawing at your throat. 

The night, and the days following it, were incredibly boring. You worked and worked and worked, occasionally checking the catwalk every night for Shane, but never seeing him. Finally, one day, as you were walking from the diner to the theater, you saw him. He was sitting on a step, three girls around him. They all looked similar, and when you waved to Shane, the girls whistled and crowed happily, ruffling Shane’s hair and causing him to duck away from them. 

“Coming to the theater tonight?” You asked, smiling. “We miss you!” 

Shane shrugged. “We’ll see!” He called back. You laughed, crossing the street and sitting on the steps with Shane and the women. The three women all smiled at you. 

“Did Shane make a friend?” One of them asked. 

“Finally!” Another one said happily. “About damn time.” 

Shane groaned. “(F/N),” he said. “These are my sisters. Everly, Vivianne, and Brynn.” 

You nodded to each of them in turn. “Have you heard Shane’s favorite way to scare the shit out of the theater workers?” You asked. 

Everly’s face lit up. “No,” she said slowly. “Do tell.” 

Smiling, you opened your mouth to tell them all how reckless their little brother was with his safety when you felt his hand on your shoulder. 

“I will pay you to keep quiet,” Shane insisted. 

“How much?” 

Shane dug through his pockets, going through five of them before he triumphantly handed you a penny. You grinned, slipping the penny into your own pocket. “You have bought my silence,” you decided. 

That was how your relationship worked for months as you performed. Every evening you noticed Shane was present in the theater, you would join him up on the catwalk, exchanging pennies. With every penny passed between you, you would share your stories. It was sweet, and soon you had a mason jar full of pennies from Shane sitting between your makeup brushes and bobby pins. 

One balmy summer evening, you were just finishing up your night routine, deciding you were simply going to spend the night at the theater. It was too dark for you to travel home, and you were desperate for a night by yourself, watching all the shitty movies you kept at the theater. The box of VHS tapes was practically calling your name. 

And then you heard knocking on your window. 

Jumping nearly three feet in the air, you scooped up a baseball bat and slowly approached the window. Pushing the curtain back ever so slightly, you instantly dropped the bat and rushed to open the window. Standing on the fire escape, looking exhausted and hurt and holding his heaving chest, was Shane. 

“Shane?” You said, pushing your curtains aside and allowing Shane to topple in, still clutching his ribs. “What happened?” 

“Jus’ need a second,” Shane said, his voice strained. He stumbled, practically crashing onto your threadbare couch. You rushed forward, desperate to catch him and ease him into a more comfortable position. 

“This isn’t a second, Shane,” you said slowly, seeing his labored breathing. “What happened?” 

Shane breathed out, the breath stuttering in his lungs. “Got jumped on my way home from work,” he said slowly. “Couple’a assholes who I owed some money decided they’d try and beat it out of me. Had to come somewhere safe.” 

Pausing in your collection of a first aid kit, you stopped, focusing all your attention on Shane. “Is that why you spend so much time in the theater?” You asked. “Because it’s safe?” 

“Mostly,” Shane said, voice strained. “Kinda like the company too.” 

You chuckled, continuing in your collecting. “Let me see,” you said. “Your ribs,” you added quickly. 

Shane lifted his shirt, showing you a small splattering of bruises and a few scrapes. 

“Could be worse,” you decided. “Let me tell you, I had a coworker once, he worked on sets, and his stupid ass tripped over something, we never did find out what, and he went slamming face first into a pile of wood. Needed like. Eight stitches on his nose. It was horrible.” As you spoke, you cleaned the scrapes, gently rubbing a disinfectant into them before plastering a few bandages across Shane’s ribs. All you had were cutesy children’s bandages, but Shane didn’t protest. He simply slid his shirt back on and tried to stand up. 

“Sit down!” You snapped once you saw him wobbling. “Christ, sit!” 

Shane sat, a bit stunned as you pressed a water bottle and some peanut butter crackers into his hands. “I’m allergic to peanuts,” he said slowly, still watching you with wide eyes. 

You took the crackers, replacing them with a granola bar. “Just eat something,” you said. “You’re all wobbly and that’s never a good sign.” You sat in front of your tiny little dressing room TV and began to sort through your VHS tapes. “Wanna watch a movie?” 

Shane peered over your shoulder as you found an appropriate movie and slotted it into the TV. “What is going on?” He asked as you sat beside him. 

“I’m keeping you here,” you mumbled, snuggling up to Shane and tucking yourself under his arm. “Now shush. I like this one.” 

“What if I want to leave?” Shane asked. “What if I have to leave?” 

You pointed to a small monitor on your table, which showed grainy live footage of the theater’s exits. “Those thugs won’t quit,” you murmured. “You’re spending the night, unless you want me to tell your sisters why you ended up in the hospital. Plus,” you added, reaching over Shane and picking up a wayward penny off the floor. “Here.” 

That shut Shane up. He huffed, taking a bite of his granola bar and hunkering down to watch your movie with you. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him rubbing the penny a few times before he slid it into his pocket. 

“Is this Robots?” He asked, his blinks growing longer and longer. “This is a kids movie.” 

“Yes. Shush.” 

Shane chuckled, hugging you close and sighing. “Thanks,” he said softly, dropping a gentle kiss on top of your head. “For keeping me safe.” 

You grinned, entire body warming. “That’s what the theater is for.”

Pairing: Shane ‘Dio’ Morrissey/GN! Vampire Reader

Word Count: 1,888

Warnings: blood, but that’s it this is all fluff

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell@star-wars-hell​

A/N: This is a part two to my previous Shane one shot, Between Old Friends and New Lovers. It isn’t a requirement to read it, but it does help.

The prompt for this week’s Writer Wednesday was given, as always, by the lovely @autumnleaves1991-blog​, and the masterlists are created by @clydesducktape.

“Babe?” 

“Hm?” 

Shane rolled over in your bed, yawning and snuggling up to you. “Why don’t you ever leave the house?” 

You chuckled, running your fingers through Shane’s mess of hair. “You know why, my love,” you breathed, kissing his forehead. “I can’t risk anyone finding out about me and what I am.” 

Shane pouted. “You won’t even leave for me?” He pushed quietly, and you smiled. 

“Maybe I will,” you said. “If your offer intrigues me.” 

“Really?” Shane sat up so fast he almost upended you, and you laughed, holding him close so he didn’t spill out of your bed. 

“Of course,” you promised. “But not today. Today I only wish to rest here with you.” 

Shane smiled, burying himself under the thick blankets once more. You could tell he was tired, his skin dappled in bruises and bite marks letting you know just how much he needed to rest. “I think we can do that,” he said. “I don’t have to leave for a while.” 

You held him close, reveling in his warmth and his heart beating under your palms. His life, all sprawled out in your bed, ready to offer himself to you. There was nothing you could possibly love more. 

A week later, you got a call. 

“Your Grace?” 

“Yes Camille?” You said, sighing and looking over your paperwork again. The day had been long, and it seemed the day was perfectly content with dragging into the night as well. “Did you find everything alright?” 

“Yes, Your Grace,” Camille said. “I have all the groceries. But I was calling to say I ran into the Lord Dio while I was out.” 

“Camille,” you said lightly, twirling the phone cord around your finger and smiling. “You can call him Shane.” 

“Apologies,” Camille said quickly. “He asked about this weekend. Asked if you were free.” 

Your dead heart began to flutter, your unbreathing chest filling with hope. “I am,” you said, not bothering to check your calendar. “Tell him I’ll meet him at the manor on Saturday.” 

Camille chuckled into the phone. “Shall I cancel your appointments on Saturday while I’m at it?” She asked. 

You smiled. “Yes please Camille,” you said. “Thank you.” 

The wait for Saturday was agonizing. On Saturday, you eagerly waited by the door, pacing back and forth across the hall. Shane was to pick you up at two, and you would spend the hour and a half drive into the city together, although you had hinted that Shane didn’t need to drive you. You had your methods. 

A knock at the door startled you, and you jumped, opening it instantly and embracing Shane tight. He laughed, spinning you around and lifting you off your feet. “Excited?“ he asked with a smile. 

“You have no idea,” you said happily. “I haven’t been on a date since, well, ever.” 

“You haven’t been on a date in over a century?” Shane asked, looking genuinely surprised. “Well I better make this one memorable.” 

You giggled, leaning against his arm. “As long as I’m with you, my love, I will be content.” 

Shane smiled. “I guess we better get going then,” he said. “Come on.” 

You followed Shane to the car, slipping your sunglasses on and rubbing your wrists to ensure you were still wearing your gloves. He opened the passenger door for you, and you looked over the rim of your glasses at him. “Such a gentleman,” you purred. “However will I survive this date with you Shane Morrissey?” 

Shane climbed into the driver’s seat and twirled his keys around his finger. “You may not,” he said humorously, starting the car. “I may just seduce you to death.” 

“Wouldn’t that be impressive,” you mused. “Seducing me to a second death. Camille would be mad.” 

“Would she?” Shane asked, beginning the long drive down your driveway. 

You nodded, adjusting your hat so it blocked the sun from warming your skin. “She’d need a new job,” you said. “And the job market isn’t exactly kind to the former staff of vampires.” 

Shane chuckled. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t be,” he agreed. 

The drive into the city was very calm. You and Shane talked, swapping stories. It was interesting to get a glimpse into Shane’s perfectly mostly mundane human life as he complained about his job. You regaled him with tales of being a Duke/Duchess, and he sighed longingly as you finished. 

“Is it easy?” He asked. “Being a Duke?” 

“Lord above, absolutely not,” you said quickly. “Especially now, at the turn of the century. With everything changing, being what could be considered old royalty is hard, even if I am a vampire.” 

Shane shrugged. “Didn’t consider that,” he mumbled. “Times are changing.” 

“It’s especially jarring to watch it,” you added. “I mean, I was born in 1831. I watched this nation change and grow, and I was forced to change with it. It’s been-“ 

“Hard,” Shane finished for you, his voice somber. “But you’ve done it alone for almost a century.” 

You nodded. “I have,” you said softly. “Now I have Camille, and of course I’ve got you. You and her are my lights. The reason I haven’t stopped and let my estate fall to ruin.” 

Shane smiled, reaching across the console to take your hand. “You’ll have me for as long as I can stay by your side,” he said softly, and you felt your chest swell. 

“Thank you,” you breathed. 

Shane thumbed over your knuckles. “You’re very welcome.” 

Finally, you entered the city. Watching in complete rapture, you smiled as building after building passed you, a thousand cars all around, making so much noise and providing so many colors. 

“Enjoying New York City?” Shane asked with an amused grin. 

You nodded. “It’s so bright!” 

Shane chuckled. “It’s a city. It’s always bright.” 

“Always?” You asked eagerly. 

“Always,” Shane confirmed. “But we won’t be going to New York City proper.” 

“What?” 

Shane smiled. “New York City is split into two sections,” he said. “Well, kind of. Aside from streets and shit, there’s New York City proper, like Broadway and Times Square. Then there’s the tamer parts, which is where we’re going.” 

You nodded, content to watch the city go by around you as Shane drove. 

Some time later, Shane finally stopped the car outside a small strip of stores, gently nudging you. “We’re here.” 

Climbing out of the car, you did your best to contain your childlike wonder to something a bit more appropriate for someone your age. Shane smiled, taking your hand. “Come on.” 

He led you down the street, ducking down a dim alleyway and looking around. You looked as well, seeing chairs and tables and strings of lights everywhere. Finally, you reached a storefront, and Shane pulled the door open. “After you.” 

You entered the store, immediately feeling the breath leave your chest. The store was a small rustic bookshop, packed floor to ceiling with haphazardly stacked books on crooked wooden shelves. In every few corners, you saw plush armchairs or small wire tables with thin chairs around them. Signs hung down from the ceiling, showing you where the different genres of books were, and the lights hanging around the space gave everything the feel of glowing. 

“What do you think?” Shane asked. “Not bad for a first official date, hm?”

You nodded, almost tearful. “Yeah,” you breathed. “It’s. Oh, Shane, it’s perfect.” 

Shane gently pulled your glasses off, tucking them into his jacket pocket and putting an arm over your shoulder. “Shall we?” 

The pair of you must’ve spent hours in the store, happily browsing and eagerly showing each other your finds. You grabbed a new vintage copy of Dracula for your personal library, and Shane was able to grab you a complete first edition set of the Chronicles of Narnia. You climbed on top of a box to nab a beautiful book of poetry for Shane, and he just barely managed to catch you as you toppled off your makeshift stool. Eventually, the pair of you curled up in one of the armchairs, you settled in Shane’s lap while he read his book of Greek poetry to you. 

“Never wade through the pretty ripples of perpetually flowing rivers, until you have looked at their lovely waters, and prayed to them, and washed your hands in the pale enchanting water,” Shane read softly, leaning his head against yours. “Are you asleep?” 

“Maybe,” you breathed, cracking an eye open and smiling softly. “Don’t we have to get going soon?” 

“Like, half an hour ago,” Shane murmured. “Do you want to go? We can go back to your estate, but my apartment isn’t far by.” 

You thought for a second. “Yours,” you decided finally. “Don’t wanna drive all the way home.” 

Shane chuckled, shutting his book and putting it into his bag. “Give me two seconds,” he said softly, kissing your forehead and standing, leaving you curled up in the teal velvet armchair. 

Eventually, Shane came back, easing you up and into the car. The sun had sunk below the skyline, the final few days shining dimly through the buildings, but it was mostly dark as Shane drove you to his apartment. 

“Well,” he said as he unlocked the door. “It isn’t much, but this is home.” 

You were too exhausted to really look at the apartment, but you decided it was cozy as you snuggled yourself up on the couch and yawned widely. 

“Such a fearsome creature of the night,” Shane teased as he scooped you up and carried you to his bedroom. 

Sticking your tongue out at him, you began to wiggle out of your clothes as soon as you were on the bed, ditching the leather jacket and hat in favor of wrapping yourself in thick blankets and yawning again. 

Shane walked away, coming back after a while with a shot glass. “Here.” 

You took it carelessly, sipping the mystery liquid and immediately swallowing down the contents. Blood, warm and fresh, and it was only when you were done that you realized where Shane had gotten the blood. “Shane Morrissey!” You scolded, grabbing his wrist and turning it over, exposing the fresh bandage. “Don’t do that!” 

Shane shrugged, crawling into bed with you. “I called Camille,” he said softly. “She knows you’re staying with me.” 

You pouted, cuddling up to Shane all the same. “Mad at you,” you decided with a huff. 

“I know,” Shane promised you. “I know. Get some rest,” he added. 

“Read to me?” You asked softly, and Shane chuckled, reaching over you to grab a book left on his nightstand. 

“Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth.” Shane shifted and began to stroke through your hair, urging you to sleep. “Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet, when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.” 

You hummed softly, feeling the gentle wash of sleep overtaking you as Shane held you and promised you eternal safety wrapped in his arms.

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. 
• Three words for you. Star. Wars. Nerd.