#novelty stationary

[holmesoldfellow]

"Sherlock Holmes Writing Set" (Stuart Hall Co. Inc, 1946)

[knickknackoftheday]

paper airplane thumbtacks

[starmoonsunlight]

[moondirti]

8. VICES

CHAPTER EIGHT OF ANIMALIC | MIGUEL O'HARA X F!READER

↼ chapter seven / chapter nine ⇀

summary: a shower, a training session, and a blowjob

explicit (18+) | 5.8k words warnings: enemies to lovers, training arcs, unhinged smut, dubious consent, it's rough guys, blowjobs, handjobs, miguel o'hara is a strict (asshole) mentor, throat-fucking, choking, mentions of infidelity, mentions of starvation, homelessness notes: well. hope y'all still respect me after reading this

The cell doesn’t last long. 

You don’t know what you expected; the terms of your deal weren’t exactly negotiated in full. As a matter of fact, they hadn’t been discussed at all. You’d assumed Miguel agreed based on his reticence – as you’ve come to anticipate from him, a non-answer always means you have a point he’d rather not appreciate. But he’d added little else after the figurative pouring of your soul, his back turning towards you instead, fixing his hands on his waist. And it had stayed that way, up until you were escorted back to the laser enclosure, still as much a prisoner as anybody else.

So, perhaps you were wrong. You convinced yourself that it was okay, that you didn’t have any hope for your own redemption. You weren’t his problem to deal with anymore, not since you agreed to go home. He probably couldn’t see the potential in you, anyway. A string of excuses drawn upon one common line – self-degradation. Tamping yet another pipe dream destined to leave you evermore downtrodden. And that was okay. 

That is, until you were roused from sleep by the scarlet spider much later. It’d been light, a rest on the verge of consciousness, contorted into the most compressed position possible to make use of limited space. In truth, you’d been thankful for it – to be granted a break from the fruitless struggle and, finally, some cue towards your fate. But he led you away from the anomaly imprisonment sector – opposite from the go-home machine you thought would be your adjudicator.

Now, you’re here.

“Was ordered to pull something together from a spare recovery room,” Reilly crosses his arms, giving an approving nod to nothing at all. “‘Course s’not the biggest – not meant to be used for extended periods of time, but I could manage if I were you.” 

You don’t let yourself harbour a reaction, not before he leaves you to your own devices.  

Because, well – it’s perfect.

There’s not much to compare it to, naturally. You’d grown accustomed to sharing a dormitory back at college, cramped in shoebox square footage with your roommate. Then, when your earth had gone to shit, there were no houses left to revel in. The past year since your miraculous escape have found you homeless, huddled under awnings or atop park benches, and by that point, discomfort had found a permanent friend in you. 

Yet–

White asymmetric panelling hems the studio, broken up only by a triangular window that peeks out onto Nueva York’s cityscape. On your right, the wall recesses in to form a bed nook, where fitted sheets hug a thick mattress, two feather pillows stacked at one end. Opposite it hovers a multi-purpose desk, niche’s carrying reusable utensils, bowls, a lamp and a small first-aid kit. 

And it’s all you could want. Gorgeous. Not conventionally so, no; it’s plain and lacklustre with an air of futuristic frigidness. But it’s clean, and comes equipped with an air conditioning system that puts you in control of the temperature you sleep in. It’s a stationary point for you to return to,  no matter the day’s drag – a place to call yours if not home. 

Not to mention, there’s a flat door towards the back, too plain to have caught your attention until you actively look for it. It has no handle, opened with a slight push that releases a latch, and swings outwards. Given the size of the corner, you’re forced to take a step back – which, a more ungrateful version of yourself would’ve marked as a con, but you’re too caught up in the novelty of what you’re led into.

A bathroom. A private, unrestricted bathroom – with a toilet and a sink and a fucking shower. You’re unable to repress the grin that stretches your cheeks, absolutely ecstatic with the – however temporary – development. No more sneaking into gyms to use their bath facilities, fortunes splurged on soap over dinner. You can wash yourself whenever you see fit, not have to feel guilty about deluding expensive memberships or your own hunger. 

(Small blessings; that still-pious part of you succumbs to the sign. You’re being rewarded. You’re on the right track.) 

Immediately, you schedule your night. A shower, first – partly for your excitement, majorly for the necessity. You doubt there are laundry machines nearby, if there’s any at all, so soaking your clothes in the sink should have to do the trick. You have no others, and to ask for more would be testing the grace you’ve been granted so far. Besides, the sheets look sterile – to lay in them bare can’t be the worst option.

Wiggling your fingers, you plug the drain to fill the basin. The garments you shuck off quickly settle there too, crumpled in a way that only exposes all their worn-down qualities. Jagged rips in your jeans, caked gore on your shirt. It’s instinct to turn away once the grime bleeds into the water, dying the once-clear pool with the unsavoury colour of your recent exploits. Harder, however, is trying to ignore the dried slick on your panties, bashfully tucking them underneath everything else. 

Engrossed by the chore, you’re almost taken by surprise by the flash of your reflection in the half-body mirror. It comes suddenly, a shape in your peripheral that looks like it’s in the wrong place. An apparition in a horror flick – darkened, wrapped in bandages and dirt and set with heavy eyes from days of unrest. Your heart rate spikes, stuttering rapidly even as you realise that it is, indeed, you. 

Or – you and Wraith. Both, existing simultaneously. 

Because it is the image you’ve become familiar with. The slope of your cheeks, the curve at your waist. It’s off putting seeing her again after some time; you don’t think you’ve spared a glance for more than half a second since the day of the gala, when you’d sat crouched in front of yourself, swiping gloss on puckered lips. But it’s those same lips that purse back at you now, unchanged. You recognise it all so quickly.

None of it resonates. 

An ugly bruise mars your temple, a yellowing one at your ribs. Your skin is littered with silver scars, or purple, depending on recency, like the two points at your neck where fangs have made their mark. Stark, white gauze circles each arm, one below your shoulder, the other above your wrist. And you’re… less, than you had been – evidence found around your cheekbones, or across your collar. Your flesh sinks into the hollow planes behind bone. When was the last time you’d eaten? 

Wraith. This haunted, cursed figure. 

You breathe through the discouragement. You tell yourself that it’s okay, the words quickly becoming a new mantra. You won’t go as far as to say it’s ambition – but the new sense of purpose that courses through you works to drown it out. You have something to work towards, no longer an aimless soul wandering uncharted realms. Whatever happened, whatever happens – all of it doesn’t matter now that you’re finally setting things straight. 

Your enthusiasm is enough to tide you over, at least, and when you step in the shower, the final dregs of hatred drip away.

White noise accompanies the cleanse. You’re suspended, surrounded by the pitter patter of water splattering down on the tiled floor. It’s overwhelming – the system has been pre-programmed to a common preference, but you find that it’s too cold for you, turning it up to one that singes your exposed form instead. Your lungs tighten, unaccustomed to the steam that quickly replaces oxygen. Hair plasters to your ears. It’s good, though, an appreciated racket. You look for soap and can  focus only on that, the buzz of guilt that constantly occupies you drowned out in favour for more menial tasks.

Of course, that really only leaves room for one train of thought.

You wonder what he’s doing right now. Has he retired for the night, back to a warm home with a partner already drowsy, cushioned in their shared bed? He seems like a family man, the type to have a galley kitchen that breaks open to a dining room, four chairs tucked beneath glossy oak. One supplanted by a high chair, maybe, meant for a squealing babe; because he’s a dad, for sure. You’ve never known Miguel to be tender, but that’s towards you and your criminal disposition. There’s a sort of careful consideration he harbours – like stopping mid sentence, that moniker, Wraith, on his tongue, and opting for something less loathsome when you grimace. You imagine it honed in a gentler setting, fostered by children he adores. 

And his spouse– 

You squeeze a generous dollop of shampoo on your palm, working it into your scalp. 

What is his type, anyway? Dedicated individuals who prioritise discipline over all else? Certainly, he wouldn’t be married to another spider-person, not when their relationship jeopardises his mission’s motto. Someone homegrown, then, a childhood sweetheart who knew him before he became all that. Who continued to love every inch of him as sinew stretched to brawn, the civilian he once was falling out like a baby tooth, fangs spouting in its stead. Unconditionally, or something along the lines. 

You recognise the notion, how important it is for a hero like him. To be tasked with responsibilities beyond human ability, one has to become more. A martyr, a villain when need be. You don’t exactly blame his vendetta against you, but you’ve come to resent the man regardless. Doubtlessly, the sentiment is felt by others he’s put in their place.

So, someone who sees past all that. Miguel O’Hara, as he is behind the mask.

The provided bar of soap is small enough to wrap your hand around. You flip it a few times, lathering it until suds form. It’s unscented, so you imagine what it could be. Patchouli springs up, the most immediate smell in your memory. You have to squash it down, alongside the ache that gnaws your core.

Sulphur, pungent and sickening as it permeates your earth’s atmosphere. 

Ichor and its metallic aftermath, clinging to your tongue. 

The catalogue presented in the last year isn’t exactly pleasant. You push beyond it, settling on a vague cloud that accompanied your college roommate. Her lavender lotion, of which she bought in bulk. You’d smear it over your knuckles and knees prior to class, comforted by the balsamic undernotes. Light, fresh. Your peers would gravitate towards you, divinely feminine, resting their heads on your shoulder when lectures droned on for too long. 

(And you’re aware of how dead they all are, blown to ash because of you. 

You’ll ask for lavender products, perhaps, when you’re sent back.) 

Is it a prerequisite to being a hero – to be loved by someone from before, who sees you for who you are? You have no one, and you’re afraid of what it means for your salvation. The right thing, in your case, is eternal solitude. When it comes down to it, would you be able to accept that? 

Your gut sinks; the answer you come up with is selfish still. No. 

There’s a long way to go until that changes.

(Your skin prickles. The water sprays right through you.

You wait until you phase back in.)

With nothing left to do, you rinse off. You can feel the rot begin to grow on the sanctuary you’ve built, and with hope to return, you can’t have it destroyed just yet. 

Your room is cold when you exit, recycled air nipping your balmy skin. The towel – found folded under the sink for resident convenience – is shorter than you would like, barely enough to wrap around your bust. That is to say, it’s utterly useless at preserving heat. It occurs to you to stand in place and drip-dry, but going to bed damp is asking for a sickness that’ll knock you off course. 

You’re about to check the heater when you notice something strange, lumped by the entrance. 

For all intents and purposes, it looks like a trash bag. Slouched in a teardrop shape, tied off with an expert knot. The colouring is off though – not the plain charcoal you’d expect, but grungier, stroked with a varicoloured grain. It seems to shift, too, flicking between textures; red, yellow, grey with little inked words, as if cut straight from a newspaper. 

It’s so distinctive that you can discern who it’s from; a spider-person expressed in much the same manner. Hobie. 

It’d do well to approach it with hesitation. After all, you have no business with him. The most you’ve exchanged was a thanks, after he’d defended your plea the first time you’d been captured by the spider society. It seems so long ago now, but you recall the comfort his stance had provided, already scared out of your wits by the hoard of stylised people who claimed they were like you. He’d been the only one to see that. 

Sighing, you tear through the side, nails too soft to undo the top. The contents are remarkably plain. Leggings. T-shirts. Packs of underwear and a hairbrush. Long socks, meant for the boots he’d also thrown in. The only article that reflects his personal way of dress is a cardigan, patches haphazardly attached with yarn. In one slouchy pocket, a piece of parchment sticks out. 

(A housewarming gift. Figured you’d need it. 

– HB.)

And it doesn’t feel like charity, as opposed to Ben’s escorting you here. Rather, his genuinity registers through the scrawled handwriting; prompting a tired, thankful smile. 

You do need it. Not just the clothes, but the reminder that you’re not as alone as you might feel.

“You’re late.” 

His voice cracks the silence you’d been walking in up to this point, pitched with an irritation seemingly etched into his being. It takes you off guard – not for its husky quality, that which you’ve grown relatively accustomed to, nor his sudden appearance. No. It’s how he stands when he says it; brashly centre-stage, taking up half of the gym with presence alone. His eyebrow is quirked, lips pursed in an inquisitive line, and you have to cycle over the day’s happenings to land on the invariable conclusion that he, in fact, did not set a schedule for you to follow in the first place. 

“Wasn’t aware there was anything to be early to,” You hesitate, lingering at a bench near the doorway, keeping an eye on him as you lay your things down. The water bottle you’d pilfered from the cafeteria crinkles under your tense grip, condensation licking a frosty trail down your fingers. 

“Would I let you prance around HQ on your own?” 

“That’s being hopeful, but no.” Miguel makes no indication of where to stand, so you continue to amble awkwardly in his perimeter. “Just– A heads up would’ve been nice.”

“And were we given a heads up when The Spider showed up on Earth-15?” He pushes, maintaining the line of questioning that starts to itch at you. You shake your head, doing your best not to tip your chin downwards – with your hands wringing the fabric of your sweats, you already feel like a child, caught elbows deep in a figurative cookie jar. 

Tension plucks at the strings tethered to the both of you. He waits for you to come up with a retort, then sighs when you fail to.

“Part of being a hero is adjusting. Security isn’t in the books for them.” From the lesson, you hang on to his choice of language. Them. Not us. Again, you’re excluded, but it occurs to you that he seems to exclude himself too. “You didn’t expect me today. What were you going to do had that been the case?” 

To exercise sounds beyond stupid, even though your attire and location announce it as the truth. It felt the most logical place to start when you’d woken up this morning, but Miguel is verging on philosophical now, and that’s something you hadn’t planned on at all. You don’t tell him that, though, because it would be asking to be sent home.

“To strengthen my stamina.” 

“What for, exactly?” 

“If I’m going to go back to that wasteland of a world, then I need the power to tough it out.” You’re getting real sick of how incompetent he’s making you sound. “Transportation is entirely contingent on how far I can walk.” 

“Huh. That’s… dumb.” He says, arms crossing over his chest. They’re thick, built like tree trunks, with muscles bulging along their lengths instead of bark. How hypocritical, you think, repressing the shiver that crawls up your spine – it’s clear he works out himself. You’re only as dumb at the way he looks today; clad in those same grey sweats, a compression top sculpting every bit of him. Out of uniform –  like he’d been using the equipment before you got here. 

(Or, he’s dedicated the entire day to training you.) 

“If you have a better idea–”

“Think a few jumping jacks will make you a hero?” A smirk edges his lips.

Your stomach lurches – whether in anger or a more mortifying emotion, you don’t know. “Can you stop with the questions, big guy?” 

He cocks his head, countenance straightening to one more serious. It terrifies you a little, the carmine in his eye, how fast it glints, sharpened with a daring edge. “Okay, then.” Miguel’s stature slacks, an open invitation. “Show me what you’re made of.” 

You regret speaking up at all. 

“Like, on the treadmill, or…?” 

“Pin me down.” He adds, as if it’s the most normal command in the world. Granted, his mind is probably not as far gone as yours. “Three seconds, and you’ll have proved your point.” 

“That’s not–” Fair skids on your tongue. His potential reaction is simple to imagine (‘nothing is fair’), and it’s obnoxious at best. You’ve had your fill of the condescending jabs, wedged to a corner where you don’t belong, ineptitude assumed of you. If his intentions are to keep you there until you give up, then you won’t let them come to fruition.

He starts to shrug, but the dismissal is interrupted by your clumsy resolve. You collide into his abdomen, channelling all your energy into the impact, arms in an arch. It’s made to grapple him by the waist, leverage in overpowering him to the floor. The odds are stacked against you, though. Miguel – twice your size – anchors himself in half the time, hard as stone against the onslaught. And your stance isn’t wide enough, feet positioned in a way that robs you of the necessary stability.

Perhaps carelessly, you press on, pouring everything into your attempt. The sheer force behind your manoeuvre is palpable; you are a spider-person, after all, and your enhanced strength would be enough to put the average human to their grave. But your opponent is far from that – he’s the pinnacle of what you preach, the resistance he musters now an attestation to the fact. 

“Torpe.” 

Your ribs burn with exertion, body still recovering from the injuries you’ve accumulated as of late. In a fluid motion that belies his size, Miguel retaliates, seeing the futility in your struggle. His hands clamp down on your shoulders, warm and vaguely comforting for the second before he flips you off of him. You’re propelled backwards, his shove sending shockwaves through your frame. Your bones rattle when you smack against the wall. 

“That hurt,” You hiss, scrambling to a stand. 

“In case you didn’t know, grace is a prerequisite for this little spider-club.” He ribs, calling to your quip at the quarry. It would be enough to set you off on anyone else, but the humour isn’t lost on you. Not with him. 

“Did you just make a joke?” You start to pace circles around him, assessing the best angle of attack. His head turns to track you, forehead marked with lines from his lifted expression. “As I live and breathe. Miguel O’Hara made a fucking joke.”

“Symptom of imminent victory.” 

“Cocky bastard,” 

“You gonna keep talking?” 

“I recall asking you to stop the questions.” You run up behind him, hoping your footsteps are light enough to not call any attention to your advancement. It isn’t very successful – he catches on quick, pivoting to confront you head on. You’re ready for it though, ducking under his reach to slip to the other side. His back is open, the opportunity presenting itself, and you spring onto his broad back with little contemplation. 

Your arms instinctively wind around his neck, securing your hold, legs thrashing to follow suit. Transformed into a glorified backpack, you stubbornly cling onto him as he attempts to shake you off. 

“¡Qué mierda haces?”

With half your face buried in his hair, you don’t respond, focusing instead on using your weight to throw him off kilter. Or, you want to focus on it. 

But he smells like patchouli, the robust aroma laced in every lock. It’s potent, much more than usual; without the sweat that usually dilutes it, you’re hit full force with every idiosyncrasy. Damp soil, freshly turned earth – rich, like the verdant undergrowth of a forest. You’ve never noticed the touch of leather underlying his cologne, nor its nuanced spice. Now, they worm their way through your rationale, parasitic, eating away at tissue until they find a blooming incurve to settle in. 

Your gut; broiling in that specific way it does when he’s around. It sinks to your core, right where you’re pressed against him, stimulated by the frantic motions of his body. Miguel hooks onto your calves, prying them off, and it’s innocent enough to only make your sudden desire worse. 

“Get. Off." He emphasises, authority compounded into every syllable. His jerks steer you in various directions, spurring nausea that blends in with your desperation. The mix courses through your bloodstream, sickening and, along with your headlessness, allows the slightest weakness to seep into your stance – a crucial opening that he seizes without hesitation.

Your vision swims as you’re capsized, thrown off course and onto the unyielding embrace of the ground. Pain shoots down your spine, the oxygen knocked out of your lungs dissipating into air. It takes you longer than necessary to realise what had happened, gasping for breath until you land on the reality that he had just used your lust against you. But of course, he doesn’t know that. To him, you’d just faltered – a rookie mistake for the rookie you are. 

It’s harmless, then, when he straddles your chest upon impact, knees touching the ground on either side of your head. Pinned in place – a mounted butterfly, captured in the perennial moment of your shameful sin – you’re convinced you’ll die like this. Miguel’s crotch under your nose, rubbing your thighs together to rid yourself of the nagging pressure between them. Wanton for nothing, wanton for him.

And it’s not the first time, a bank of memories coming available at the familiar arrangement. When he’d finally detained you on 15, groyne cleaving your ass while he undid your restraints. That damned kiss, exploring the plush lips that currently curl with a complacent sneer. They’d been so soft, the impression of his fangs just barely grazing past. And how good those had felt, too; your arteries swollen, bloated with venom injected into your neck. Lethargic for hours afterward, unable to do anything to sate the response he’d triggered.

Now, you’re not as powerless. He’s on top of you, doused in some fragrance from heaven, blessed with a robustness you’re sure extends to every appendage. If he is married, how high would fucking him be on your list of transgressions? Surely, it can’t be your worst, though you hope you’re above it at this point. 

(But, if he wants this too–)

You look up at him, mouth parted. It isn’t a request so much as it is an assessment, tallying every suggestive hint he gives. There is none. Instead, he does much the same, catching your scrutiny before promptly looking away to calculate his options on an adjacent wall. 

(The logical part of you can already sense how dreadful this’ll turn out. You’re not thinking straight. 

You hope he succumbs to your debasement.) 

Your hips buck involuntarily, a rip release effect to your rising need. He takes it as a plea to get off; that which he defers to, dismounting your chest. 

No.

You stop him, left hand clamping down on his thigh. Slowly, he sits back, tipping his weight forward, onto the curve where your clavicle plunges to your throat. You can hardly move, diaphragm pinching in a bid for breath, and it’s okay for as long as he stays where he is. 

(Apollo, meet Dionysus.)

It’s gradual – deliberate – when your fingers meander on their trek to his waistband. You skim over his hips, pelvis protruding to border his V-line – which holds prominence, even under the layers of his sweats and boxers. Miguel does nothing; gives no shiver in encouragement, nor an order to stop. He just looks down on you, dissecting the fervour with which you touch him; a woman crazed. 

His shirt is stubborn in rolling up, elastic and tight against his form. You want to feel the way his flesh heats, defined abdomen rolling in eventual pleasure, but it’s a privilege you don’t have in this setting. You’re only able to pull it out from underneath his pants, allowing a sliver of skin to be exposed to your gluttonous gaze. Bronzed, gorgeously brown in contrast to the desaturated colours he’s chosen to don. Drool pools behind your tonsils.

The cords of his waistband unlace when you tug it with your pointer, hinged at the middle. Miguel makes a sound, the beginnings of a growl rolling up his throat. It’s to tease yourself, you want to say – because the fuzz of his happy trail leads down to a darkened bush, and the brief flash will forever be seared into your mind’s eye. Goodness fuck, if your yearning were any worse, that would have been enough to tip you over the edge. It’s been so long since you’ve wanted anything this bad. 

Pining wreaks a foreign mess on your systems. Toes curl within your boots. Lashes quiver with every ruminative blink. Your new panties are doubtlessly ruined, generic cotton soaked through with slick; you’d been so ashamed of it just last night, washing your previous pair in the sink. Now, all you can consider is how expertly he’d test you, calloused thumb running over your clit until he witnesses just how wet you can get. 

(Is it the length for which you’ve gone without this, deprived of your favourite vice? Before you’d discovered the stars, you’d pursued your most carnal desires, jumping from one hookup to the next. 

You didn’t suppose you'd missed it this much.) 

Maybe that’s why you go for him, out of anyone else. Because he’s immediate, the most prominent presence in your life. A convenient outlet, for all your bad blood. He doesn’t stop you, either, his pinky instead grazing your wrist, almost pushing for you to reach in.

If you do, things’ll change. When they had just settled. 

Your dynamic seemed okay to morph into what you needed it to be: mentor, and mentee. But this– 

This is so fucked. You would rather be anywhere else if not seated on his lap, and that’s a level of dysfunction you should be unsure about. Would he even let this progress? Beyond a one time thing, so that it doesn’t become a fixture you’ll always regret? 

(Does it matter?)

You dip into his boxers. 

(So, it is your lechery that negates your need for consideration. Call it thirst, or self-sabotage.)

Shit.

He’s thick, fucking pulsing on your palm, dry and heavy enough to cause considerable trouble when fishing him out. You’re at an adverse angle, twisting your arm to grip the base. Miguel’s hiss thins to a whispered curse, a muddle of Spanish and English that loses legibility as he shifts to help you. Hand swooping next to yours, he cups his balls, hoisting them out of the suffocating fabric. His cock follows suit, slapping his tummy upon release. 

It’s–

Angry. A blossoming shade of purple that grows more vibrant the lower you go, guided by two fat veins that branch along his frenulum. Huge, too – not the longest you’ve had in your mouth, but stocky enough for you to worry about it regardless. You run your nail up its length, doing the maths in your head. 

“Intimidated?” He says. It doesn’t register as proud as he probably intends for it to be, voice too  hoarse, broken by some unspoken lust. 

“Cocky bastard,” You murmur, holding your arm above you in the meantime. He takes a second to understand what your extended hand is for, bowed in a reverent-like appeal. And, even when he does, he pauses, gathering the saliva around his teeth. “Take that as a double entendre.”

He doesn’t laugh, spitting onto your palm, watching as you smear the natural lube around his mushroomed head. It melds with his pre-spend – that which pearls at the tip – forming a pearlescent marker for where your caress travels. Above the glans, rounding to coat down the body, and running out before you reach the root. 

It’s enough, though. Enough to provide momentum to your motions, jacking him off above your face. Up to this point, Miguel has eased his mass off of you, balanced on his haunches – but your ministrations have him losing that awareness, leaning further and further until he all but sits on your neck. His fingers latch onto your head, cradling your jaw in a similar fashion to how he treated your whiplash, each thumb at a cheekbone – waiting for the opportune moment to plunge into your mouth. 

It comes with the hypoxia, his choking straddle clotting the oxygen meant for your brain. What you can see – him mostly, meaty thighs and a lean torso, with a face that screws up with controlled precision – spots as secondary to black vision, your eyes bulging at the edges, struck with stationary blood. It’s opposite to smoke inhalation, that scratchy condition that only grew more uncomfortable the more you coughed. This is debilitating, the last dreg of stimulants you need to embrace your drunk efforts. You’re drowned in a pool where nothing matters except what’ll pull you out – life vest, a buoy, the hefty cock tapping your bottom lip. 

You unhinge your jaw the widest it can go, accounting for teeth and all. Hollow cheeks accommodate his size when he drives in, but your lips still stretch, aching at the corners where thin skin threatens to rip. Immediately, your tongue laps over the dense intrusion, mapping out the patches where he seems most sensitive. Below the head, along the ridge. Right between his veins, if you press down hard enough. Your usher more of it in, stuffing your gullet full of him. 

How does he manage to smell good here, too? Muskier, still, a heady ambrosia of masculinity.

His balls slap your chin, stopping you from swallowing any more. Miguel doesn’t take too favourably to that, however, bending your head to parallel his pelvis and pushing. Your neck aches, spinal plates prodding at where it inclines – the combination of that, the choking, and the swollen head that spears your tonsils makes for a deadly combination. You’ve been doing your damnedest not to gag, clenching your thumb in a fist, but the sound erupts from you regardless. A lewd, wet gluck – tears pool upon your lashes, caught by the thumbs still guiding your face. 

And Miguel groans.

“Mmmf–,”  His hips withdraw, giving you an instant’s respite, before snapping back forward. “Se siente tan bien.” 

“Hnmghh,” You attempt to reply. 

“Filthy fucking girl. So– mierda, always so goddamn stubborn,” He continues, accent curling with a raspy quality, smouldering at its core. “Never listens, never rests.”

You’re unsurprised to hear that what he really feels for you, exposed in this crude confessional, is just more indignation. 

(Does it matter? Does it really? 

He’s fucking your throat like cumming down it will reaffix the spiderverse.)

The gags drop rhythm, snowballing to become a chorus of the most salacious whines you can make, punched in tandem to his thrusts. Saliva coats your lips, bubbling when he withdraws, welcoming him back with the sight of you wrecked, glazed in salty liquids from multitudinous sources. 

You lose yourself to it, squeezing your eyes shut until he urges you to open them back up again, brushing the corner where your skin burns from crying. His brows are pinched, canyons of deliberation formed between them, regarding your debauched expression with something more than the base measures exchanged in the past half hour. 

He pulls out with a pop. You clasp around his dick’s circumference – rubbing over the tip, where his hole leaks a steady flow of prespend – and question him with a keen. You can’t exactly manage anything else.

“Where do you want it?” 

You frown, leading him back into your mouth. Where else?

It isn’t much longer until he carries out the promise. 

The sequence of events is more organised than anything else that’s happened today. You’ve come to recognise it, an expert in unravelling. He jostles your head back onto the floor, stabilising you for when his rear lifts, slanting his cock ninety degrees downward to ram straight into your mouth. You wince, incisors accidentally skimming the surface, which only prompts him deeper in. Your nose squishes onto the coarse hairs of his groyne, soaked with drool, and his balls tighten under your mandible, leaden in an indication of what’s to come. 

You want it, so bad you can hardly gulp in precious breath. Your pupils roll behind your lids. You want, you want.

And finally – for the first time, over the entirety of your relationship – Miguel O’Hara gives that to you. Readily.

He cums. Hard. In throbbing spurts that coat your oesophagus, your molars, the back of your tongue. It’s sweltering, viscous and thick enough to choke you again – you cough up the excess that doesn’t quite fit, sinuses screeching with the overexertion. You can’t gulp, not when he’s still buried in you, so you do your best not to suffocate as he rides through his orgasm. Rope after rope, until he releases you, excess drops splattering onto your nose.

Then, he tucks his softening dick back into his pants and moves off of you.

You swallow, left with a weeping cunt and a swift sobering up.

Miguel proffers a helping hand, meant to lift you off the floor. Swatting it away, you clamber onto your own, unsteady feet, collecting your abandoned things from the bench, and bolt out the door.

What the fuck did you just do?

chapter nine

find a position visual here

follow @moondirti-archive and turn on post notifs to be alerted of future updates!

[fox-guardian]

i wish there had been a reason to bring up jon's odd collection that he has according to mr writerman sims like. it's less boring than stamp collecting but i want to know more. what does he have. is it buttons? sewing buttons of varying colors and textures, accumulated from the spare button baggies on new clothing over the years?? is it letter openers? is it old-man-esque smoking pipes? does he collect bones? dolls of the monster high variety? small ceramic cats from antique malls? novelty mugs and other such dishware? belts? weird secondhand shoes he bought just to have that don't even fit him most of the time? kazoos? as many possible copies of the same book but each is a different variation either by cover or edited content? classic horror movies he's never watched all on VHS? repurposed candle jars full of stationary and sewing gear because they're colorful and jingle when he shakes them? what does he have.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Once Upon a Time 1

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You don’t mind working evenings during the week. In the hour before closing time, it’s pretty slow. There isn’t much for you to do much follow the tune of the instrumental jazz and lean on the counter behind your till. Management is hidden in the back office so you don’t even need to pretend to work.

So it is that you’re startled at the unexpected figure strutting around the table of stationary and novelties across from the checkout. You stand straight as you smile at the man, not letting it falter as you recognise him. You brace yourself and swallow as your mouth runs dry. He’s been here almost every day this week; at least, when you’ve been in.

“Oh, uh,” you don’t notice anything in his hands aside from his cell phone, “Mr. Pine isn’t here, sir. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t reply until he’s at the counter. His blue eyes bore into you as he rests his hand against the edge, gripping his phone tight. A small furrow scrunches between his brows.

“I didn’t ask,” he smiles.

“Well, er, sorry, I thought…” you chew your lip nervously. Each time he’s been in, he’s asked for the store owner. You assume he knows him. And he’s of the demographic who likes to make a fuss when he doesn’t get what he wants. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“You shouldn’t have,” he agrees, still grinning.

You squirm and run your fingertips over the keyboard. “Well, is there anything I can help you find? We’re closing up soon–”

“You’re trying to get me to leave?” He challenges.

“Not at all,” you croak. “Sorry, sir.”

“Andy,” he pulls his hand away, instead crossing his arms and leaning his elbows on the counter. He reads your name tag, “it’s fine. I was just looking around. Figure a book might help keep me busy.” 

He has a very intense way of watching you. Very on the point. He speaks directly to you, but you’re more the type to focus above someone or past them.

“Do you have a favourite genre?” You prompt. It’s easiest to talk about work and you have a dozen suggestions.

“Not really. You know, I work a lot and I never really had a chance to read much outside of deposition records,” he shrugs and raises his eyebrows, “don’t make my mistakes. Don’t waste your life working overtime. Enjoy the small things. Like books, you’re never gonna find a fairytale in real life.”

You feel a bit bad for him but try not to show it. You don’t want to insult it and he seems to pendulum between amiable and unapproachable. You nod and put on your customer service smile.

“Oh, thanks, I guess you’re probably right,” you eke out, “do you like thrillers? They’re pretty popular and we’re having a special.”

“Hm, I suppose that’s somewhere to start,” he rubs his beard, the hand clutching his phone against the counter as he leans on the same elbow, “what do you read?”

You give your usual answer, vague and not entirely false, “fantasy, mostly.”

“Like The Hobbit or whatever?” He wonders.

“Sure, I’ve read that,” you say.

“My wife– ex, now, she was a Tolkien fan,” his lips slant, “twenty years, no kids. Got nothing to show for it.” He pushes himself straight, “I’m sorry, you caught me on a bad night. I, whatever you suggest, I’ll take it. I need something to get my mind off of… everything.”

“Oh, sure, well, we have our best sellers down here,” you point over the counter and the racks between each till, “Conrad’s always a good choice.”

He hums and backs up. He peruses the books silently as you twiddle your fingers impatiently. You’ve had awkward encounters with customers before, almost daily, but something about him is a bit too cringe for you. You hate to even think like that. You feel mean. He’s just going through some things. And who isn't?

He plucks up a book and comes back to your till. He lays it down and slides his phone into his pants pocket, then reaches under his jacket. He takes out his wallet and pauses as he unfolds it, “wait, do you get commission? I could grab a few more.”

“Um, no,” you login and scan the barcode on the book, “but there’s a survey on you receipt. If you fill that out, I get credit for that.”

“Oh, sure, a survey,” he agrees as he slides out a card.

“And did you have our rewards card?” You ask.

He shakes his head, “what’s that?”

Great. You peek at the time in the corner of the till screen. It’s getting close to closing.

“So, for purchases you collect points. Kinda like air miles. When you buy items that are part of a promotion, you receive double, and for prestige members, there are triple point days. You can collect points to earn store credit.”

He nods and considers it. He tilts his head as his cheek dimples, “so, that costs money?”

“Yes, twenty-five dollars for paperback level and forty for prestige.”

He weighs the options. You expect the amounts to deter him like most customers. He taps his card on the counter, “you know what, I’ll do the forty. I’m looking to get into reading so I’ll be back for sure.”

“Oh, uh, right, okay,” you say with surprise, “I’ll just get you registered.”

You reach past the till and grab one of the cards displayed behind it. You scan it and go through the whole routine; name, phone number, email. You get all his info in and offer him a bag before you turn the debit machine towards him. He taps his card and the approval chirps loudly.

“Great, so, if you wanna do the survey,” you say as his receipt prints out, “you can scan this QR code and it will direct you straight to the survey.” You tear off the receipt and circle at the bottom, “my employee number is here, you’ll have to enter that and the transaction ID.”

You fold the receipt and hand it over. He takes it and looks it over with a squint. He raises his chin and gives a half-smile, “um, this QR thing? How do I… I’m sorry, I’m a bit slow. Could you show me?”

You want to say no. You want to point to the clock and tell him to have a good day but he’s actually going to do the survey. You need a good review.

“Sure, um, I’ll show you. Just on your phone,” you step closer as he digs his hand in his pants pocket, “let me see the receipt.”

“Thank you so much,” he says, “you’re so patient with me.”

[yawujin]

hihihi I actually love your writing so much thank you for giving me a hearty meal

could I request dv3 boys with a reader who absolutely LOVES Sanrio like!!! so much!!!!! thank you for your time !!!!

hii thanks anon!! <3 i had an idea just like this so thank you for your request!!!

request | v3 boys x reader that loves everything sanrio

type | react , light hearted , non killing game , fluff , gender neutral reader

shuichi saihara ♡

often takes nap on your bed that has sanrio plushies everywhere

when he asks you to lend him a pen and later notices that it has a cinnamoroll design all over it

he finds it cute so it's okay lol

he bought you an enamel pin with kuromi on it so you could pin it to your shirts

just a thoughtful little gift

but also because he wanted you to match with the pin he wears from the detective agency he works for hehe

rantaro amami ♡

when he goes on his travels he often finds these little souvenier shops that sell bootleg versions of sanrio merchandise

he buys some of these so you can expand your collection

even though you both know they're fake

it's all for the novelty of it

and bc he likes to see you laugh and smile

"i can tell it's fake because hello kitty has her bow on the wrong ear" he grins while handing a minifigure over to you

K1B0/kiibo ♡

after you showed him what sanrio was, he too, found himself really liking the brand

whenever you invited him over; he sat atop your bed, hugging a plush close to his chest while you two talked

you offered to give him one of your plushies

"really!? i don't want to take something that's yours..."

you insist!

but only because he looks absolutely adorable while holding onto a my melody plush

korekiyo shinguji ♡

finds the difference in your guys' aesthetics fascinating

you two are basically the embodiment of all black s/o x all pink s/o

if there is a holiday rolling around and he can give you a gift you can bet that he'll buy you a shiny piece of jewelry that has a sanrio character on it

"this cutesy look really suits you, my dear." he says while you greet him, wearing a top with pompompurin on it

kaito momota ♡

you two went to a sanrio store once and he found this notebook that had the little twin stars inside of a rocket ship on the front cover

he loved it

you found it funny because he had said:

"this stuff might be a little too childish for me" before walking in

kaito, sweetie, you're really just a big child 😭

gonta gokuhara ♡

likes it when you wear those headbands that look like the top of the character's head (click here for reference if you don't know what i'm talking about)

he likes it bc it reminds him of antennas

also enjoys taking naps on your bed, resting his cute face on the soft blanket you purchased from a sanrio store <3

likes it when you decorate his album full of pictures of bugs with little sanrio character stickers

ryoma hoshi ♡

when you show him all the characters and ask which is his favorite he chooses chococat

DUHH OFC HE WOULD IT'S RYOMA

you also have the all black x all pink dynamic with him

you placed a few sanrio pins onto his jacket and he wore it with pride

everytime he's out and about and sees anything sanrio related he is instantly reminded of you

kokichi ouma ♡

"you really like this stuff, (Y/N)? it's a little too childish don't ya think?"

sanrio has no age limit silly kokichi

luckily for you, however, that was just one of his lies

his favorite thing about you is when you incorporate sanrio character inspired looks into your outfits (ie: all pastel blue and white clothing for cinnamoroll and red bows for hello kitty)

don't take his teasing so personally

he thinks you look super adorable

would definitely write 'kokichi ouma was here' onto your sanrio stationary just to mess with you

[scatteredraysofhope]

Intro post 🦝

hiiiii 〜 ˚ ⟡ . 💚

It's me Aditi!

I'm sooo happy you're here ^^

I mean what are the chances you'd find me!? I think it's pretty amazing!

Soo here's a bit about me ⤵

I'm a 18yo Animation student ✰

☘ Art is sort of my escape. I love painting watcolor and acrylic, drawing and even doing crafts sometimes!

☘ I also love reading books! I even like journaling and writing bad poetry sometimes :P

☘ Some of my favorite things:

♡Studio Ghibli, Disney, Winne the Pooh, The Little Prince, Inside Out

♡The Owl House, Bee and Puppycat, Hilda, Over the Garden Wall

♡Rainy days, Sunsets, Late nights, Fall season, Warm bakeries, Cheesecake, Lofi and classical music, Colecting novelty stationary, Books and graphic novels.

Im cronicly addicted to Tumblr, Pintrest and Spotify.

 🆆🅴🅱🅲🅾🅼🅸🅲🆂

Lackadaisy, Heartstopper, Humor me

🅽🅴🆃🅵🅻🅸🆇 🆂🅴🆁🅸🅴🆂/🆂🅷🅾🆆🆂

Anne with an E, Heartstopper, The Good Place, The Babysitters Club, The Middle, Andi Mack

🅱🅾🅾🅺🆂

♡Flowers for Algernon, The perks of being a wallflower, Watership down, The Fault in Our Stars, Everything Everything, Out of my Mind, Solitaire, Radio Silence

🅼🆄🆂🅸🅲 🅰🆁🆃🅸🆂🆃🆂

♡Aurora, Cavetown, Girl in Red, Mxmtoon, Chloe Moriondo, Melanie Martinez, Angéle, Beetlebug, Mia Stegner, Pomme, Conan Gray, Mitski, Lana Del Rey, Billie Eilish, Olivia Rodrigo, Madilyn mei ♡

I post mostly positive silly and wholesome posts <3, And often vents about social anxiety and mental illness. Also I think I might actually be selectively mute and Im probably autistic. You can filter those if you'd like using the tag #tw.vent ^^

I don't really bother tagging anything except my own art (#crazy painting mouse) cause I'm impossibly forgetfull😅. Anyway here are some of my favorite people ♡

Also if you wanna be friends please dm me!! I love meeting and talking to new people. Plus I don't have many friends in rl so you'll mean a lot to me. <333

Hope you stick along for the ride,

Adiee <3

My Pinterest ♡

My Spotify ♡

My Art Insta ✄

A picrew im working on

Important links:

You feel like shit: An interactive self-care guide

Alice Oseman Audio Books

Fun Picrews:

Fuzzy Worm Maker

Bright's Picrew Maker

hope you have a lovely day,

byeeeeeeeeeeeeee <3

Anxiety Pixle Art by @fafameow and adhd creature by @ice-cappuccino

[theluckywizard]

Unusual OC Asks

Thanks for the tag @oxygenforthewicked! I will tag @nirikeehan, @delicatefade, @monocytogenes, @rowanisawriter, @samseabxrn, @warpedlegacy

Rose Alsatia Trevelyan (she/her) | Garrett Hawke (he/him)

Seasoning: Cardamom | Black Pepper

Weather: Flurries on a clearish winter day | Sunny, cloudless, pleasantly hot

Color(s): Violet and cornflower blue | blue gray and blood red

Sky: Peachy dawn through wispy clouds | clear as shit blue sky

House Plant: Hens and chicks | Sansevieria

Weapon: Shortbow | Longsword and shield

Subject: Orlesian | Debate (lol is that a class?)

Social Media: Hunting forums LOL, a facebook she doesn't use | Tiktok and Reddit

Make-up Product: Blush | nail polish

Candy: Those fancy hard fruit candies that come in a tin | giant pixie stick

Fear: loss of innocence | losing those closest to him because of something he did or did not do

Ice cube shape: Cylinders | Novelty ice cubes shaped like skulls

Method of long-distance travel: Horse | Dragon 😎

Art Style: Maxfield Parrish-ish, neo-classical | Gesturey cartoons

Mythological Creature: Selkie | Cerberus

Piece of Stationary: Hot pressed paper | Whatever scrap he can find

Celestial Body: Yellow Dwarf Star | Comet

[galadrieljones]

wip whenever

thanks for the tag, @roguelioness ^_^

The next update for afterglow has been a bit slow going, but I've made a lot of progress. I really hope to have it done this week. No promises of course. But I'm working on it!! Here's a snippet:

They walked until they found a parking lot, with a gift shop and convenience store. The door was locked, so they parked the bike and climbed in a window, which Daryl pried open with a piece of discarded rebar. There was one walker inside, a young woman, zip-tied to an aluminum shelving unit behind the counter. She had written a note on a pad of souvenir stationary, with a picture of the National Forest logo at the top. Her note said: I got bit by one of the children at the shelter. I didn't know what to do so I left her there. She's secure. I am sick now, and I think I may be dying. If you find me here, please don't let me get anybody else sick. -Eliza

Daryl took care of it, and together they dug a shallow grave out back and laid her to rest. Beth marked her gravesite with a novelty coffee mug and looked upon it sadly. The whole ordeal took about an hour, and then they went back inside.

They cleared the place, rack by rack, found a small stash of dried goods in a duffel bag. Eliza must have been sleeping there, as a kind of nest. She seemed to have been alone. There were many books and melted candles, and the books, which had been scavenged from a nearby library, were all romance novels. Beth tidied up and made them a new bed using blankets and clothing. 

"She was a romantic," said Beth. She put the stack of romance novels by the door. She wanted to place them on the grave, in the morning. "I wonder why she was all alone."

tagback for @roguelioness. New tags for @thevikingwoman @sasusc @im-immortal @gneebee @pipergirl17 @mistressheroine and anyone else who'd like to share. Please tag me if you do! ❤️

[mariatesstruther]

miller family travel tendencies

based off of @hypnotisedfireflies latest advent chapter! 🫶🏾 you’ve been going off this month friend, major kudos

tommy: food-driven schedule, literally will try anything from anywhere as long as it’s not moving, a good travel buddy in that he’s down for anything but also doesn’t mind sitting with the bags when someone needs to stay back. carries sarah and/or maria’s purse a lot

joel: kinda lazy in that he loves staying in and enjoying the hotel rooms, only hs a few specific sites he wants to see for tess and sarah, is invested in trying the local coffees wherever they are, alwys ends up carrying tess’s shoes

tess: will find a local who also speaks english to show her/them a good time, never has a map but somehow never gets lost, loses track of time easily. likes to buy new shoes depending on what she needs at the time (ex: will buy sneakers because her boots hurt, or sandals because she forgot to pack them, or new boots because she thinks they’re cute)

maria: has a color-coded itinerary that took 2 weeks pre-trip to make, takes lots of pictures, always comes in clutch with the right meds when someone has a headache or is carsick, likes to find local places to dance at and candy/toy-shops for kevin to explore, usually gets too burnt out from maintaining the schedule by the end of the trip and fucks off with tess or chills in the hotel with tommy

sarah: following the food like tommy, also always taking pictures, likes buying novelty stationary from the places she visits, records her favorite parts of her trips in her journal, takes goofy selfies with joel every plane ride

[sisterdivinium]

Wide awake in the deep night, Suzanne, stationary, stared at the ceiling. She breathed slowly — the Lord listened.

She had never had need of a priest; the markings on skin and soul were as keys to the sky and her confessions had been constant for years. This was no different.

Pride had been her preferred sin, even in shame, so to seek counsel for another, a novelty, still frightened her.

But Jillian Salvius stirred beside her, sleepily draping an arm across her naked body, warm skin on skin — and Mother Superion's prayer fell from God to her in a kiss.

[shallowseeker]

Thinking about the SPN finale ghosts again, and how it echoes through each member of TFW.

(I think about this a lot. But it was all spawned by @angelcasendgame's additions to this post about how Sam really likes books). And...my recent pajamas obsession.

I went looking for this, and sadly, it isn't a meta so much as it is a collection of unrelated motif-thoughts. :(

Cas stuff

Cas almost never wears sleepwear, but when he does it's the dark dad robe of failed familial protector. He's the specter of always-working-dad. When he's not that, he's the homeless veteran, veteran-turned minimum-wage-civilian, or veteran-as-mental-patient. (images from smiledean)

In the finale, Cas (and his parallel) were both positioned as sentries of the door. Cas is the barrier-shield to protect the house.

Cas almost never sleeps and rarely wears pajamas. Instead, he's usually depicted in full-military or working/office "gear." Cas is, symbolically, the overworked father, "always working, even drained," as the finale drains the dad.

As motif of working father, he only is shown resting when he's dying or severely weakened--"ill." He rests only when he's dying or dead. As is his "duty."

He's always trying to protect them, even when he's failing miserably at it. Ironically, other family members resent his protection as much as they appreciate its security.

The finale-dad (Lyle Crowther) dies in front of an open door, when his back is turned, just as Cas literally dies in front of the door to another world.

Cas's deepest wants (12x19 The Future) were depicted as Sam running in a field of freedom and Dean being (ahem, very close) relieved, thankful, and free of burdens. (He perceives Dean's "distress," and he knows that he "adds to it," but he does not fully understand it.)

Cas patrols the bunker like a guard, and in his downtime, he indulges in the escapist fantasy of Saturday Evening Post + TV.

In his dreamscape, he sits at the table watching TV, notably not performing any sort of duty or chore as he basks inside the hearth of home (kitchen).

He often lectures Jack from this position at the kitchen table. (And sometimes from within Jack's room as well).

Dean stuff

Dean likes to nest, and he crows happily about that when they first find the Bunker. He quickly decorates his room, finds a "homey" gray robe, finds the shower and sings its water pressure praises, and takes over the kitchen. Other people don the dead guy robe. First is Chuck, who apes the "performing Dean" and overfocuses on his porn collection. (This is how Chuck sees Dean, after all--purely in a surface-level, sexual sense.) Other wearers include Mary and Jack, both of whom Dean wraps in gray robes as he welcomes them into the kitchen to eat a hardy meal of bacon and/or burgers. (images from TheFamilyBusiness.com)

Dean (borrowing from @scoobydoodean) is the hearth of the home, the heart.

(He's even referred to as "Tin Man" in 9x03 Slumber Party.)

He's the one in the family who wears the male version of the Dead Parent, "dead guy" robe -> dressing gown, in the form of the gray MoL robe. This robe is like the gray duster of his finale counterpart, the horrified warrior-caretaker.

He also wears cute, silly pajamas as the series goes on, revealing more of his actual personality in stark contrast to the sexy Malboro Man Chuck wanted to portray him as.

In later seasons, Dean wears hot dog pants, novelty socks, Scooby Doo boxers, and the lavender Scooby-Doo outfit (Dickens-style "dad" dressing shirt + nightcap).

In 14x10, Nihilism, Dean's dreamscape depicts him retired and waiting for his family to come home. Even at his failing roadhouse (Rocky's Bar in 14x10 Nihilism), he wants to provide rest and nourishment--drink and merriment.

When trouble comes to him, he can even help out as a distinguished warrior from his stable, stationary position.

Importantly, in his dreamscape, Dean does not brave the storm outside. (Pamela does that for him.)

Dean longs to be the safe harbor, the stop on the road, a destination to return to.

He embodies the warmth of the kitchen.

Likewise, he too delivers mentorship to Jack from the kitchen.

Occasionally, he enters Jack's bedroom and is the first member of TFW to be shown siting on Jack's bed as he mentors.

Sadly, in the finale, after the shield falls, the caretaker-warrior can only flee to higher ground as the hearth is breached.

Eventually, the caretaker falls, too, and is rendered mute as the tongue is brutally ripped out. (Just as Dean "cannot speak" in 15x19's script, as Jack disappears.)

Sam stuff

Sam is typically up early, wearing running gear or soft, modern pajamas. To my knowledge, I never saw him wearing a robe, but I'm happy to be corrected.

Sam yearns for safety, but he enjoys the academic rigor of "brainiac" career living.

He is usually positioned inside the library, surrounded by books, even in Gadreel's mindscape (9x09 Holy Terror).

Sam seems to genuinely love pouring over ancient books, examining the minutiae of cases, and throwing his weight towards a cause/career.

(Prone to perfectionism, Sam can be a little obsessive when it comes to filing literature, exercising, and "clean" eating.)

To Jack, Sam usually delivers mentorship from the quiet of the library, though occasionally comes into his room to attempt to give him pep talks.

Thus, Sam is the keeper of the books, the historian, the legacy.

Witchcraft is a natural outcropping of Sam's Solomonari-like thirst for knowledge.

And yet, his ghost-in-the-finale is shown cowering under the bed, yearning for safety, and so afraid of the loss of the loved ones that have always protected him (Cas and Dean). It's as Chuck coos in 12x09 The Trap, "You think Dean n' Cas are gonna come charging through that door just in the nick of time. You still think you can win."

As the shield is destroyed and the hearth is breached, the war spreads to the bedroom, creaking open the door. This is the safest space. (The symbolic nursery.)

Notably, Sam wears distinctly modern pajamas at all times, usually a simple tee + tracksuit bottoms. NEVER old-style or retro button-ups and never a nightgown over it.

Even his hoodie in the final, speaks of a "modern teenager," free to take on the world and live freely in the garden (field) of the Earth.

Jack stuff

Jack wears Cas's overcoat, because he's under Cas's protection, and a MoL robe because he's under the Winchesters' (specifically, Dean's) care.

Like Sam, Jack often wears the garb of a modern teenager around the house. On occasion, unlike Sam, he has a (vintage-ish) set of pajamas in gray and blue, as well as a little apron he wears in the kitchen.

Jack is triparted chimera of all three of his father-figures, from their best selves (courage, heart, knowledge) to their worst shadow selves (tyrant-god/frankincense, sacred executioner "the law"/myrrh, and martyr-king/gold).

Jack is typically shown inhabiting the domains of the other three (kitchen, battlefield, inside cars, the library), but he's often shown in his own bedroom.

Often, he is shown associated with family fun (family game night, Connect-four, Mouse trap), just as the younger boy in blue from the finale (Brady Crowther) is depicted playing checkers with his brother.

Jack dons the MoL nightgown after coming back from the dead, and thereafter is depicted in old-style blue/gray, "little boy," button-up pajamas, representing the responsibility of the angel/God he has always been expected to grow into.

But if we take Byzantium at face value, Jack just wants to be small--to shirk the insurmountable duty and destiny he was (seemingly) born into. Not a child or a boy, "just me."

He longs for the little moments, like fishing or spending time together.

His Heaven was a simple roadtrip--being together.

Somewhat paradoxically, he ALSO wants powers and strength to be able to protect everyone.

Unlike Sam, Jack is not cloaked solely in modernity but as Son of Heaven (red blood, blue sky).

He is veritable HEIR to Heaven, and as such, he is not actually free to inhabit the garden of the Earth.

He cannot escape his Heavenly father's "robe," that of God.

[ratsoh-writes]

UPDATED FAVORITE'S/general info LIST

**Favorites list**

Favorite color:

Favorite food:

Favorite item/gift:

Hobbies:

Favorite flower:

Favorite music:

Best friend(s):

Age:

Birthday:

Height:

Sans

Favorite color: sky blue

Favorite food: Hotdogs and monster energy drinks

Favorite item/gift: He loves getting gag gifts like buzz rings or whoopie cushions but also loves any sort of science pun t-shirt!

Hobbies: astromony, puns and riddles, the wordcross, stargazing, videogames (sometimes), pranks, instrumental music, playing his trumpet

Favorite flower: echo flowers

Favorite music: jazz and instrumentals

Best friend(s): lens pluto G oak

Age: 65

Birthday: January 28

Height: 5'3

Papyrus

Favorite color: Cherry red

Favorite food: spaghetti and garlic bread!

Favorite item/gift: hotwheels are one of his favorite things to get, but he also likes collectibles of his favorite metal bands or comic book heroes!

Hobbies: hotwheels, Marvel, DC, any superhero really, fencing, jogging, DIY, puzzles, escape rooms

Favorite flower: sunflowers

Favorite music: heavy metal and screamo

Best friend(s): star Jupiter lilac willow

Age: 49

Birthday: may 22

Height: 6'5

Star

Favorite color: mustard yellow

Favorite food: tacos, cinnamon rolls and tuna fish sandwiches

Favorite item/gift: he'll treasure anything a friend gets him cause he's just like that, but he LOVES really cringy pun tshirts. the ones that make his brother gag. star also likes getting bright and goofy tights or socks.

Hobbies: sparring, jogging, volleyball, training dogs, trampoline parks, raves, sketching (on the down low)

Favorite flower: bluebells

Favorite music: rave

Best friend(s): lilac jupiter papyrus sparks

Age: 60

Birthday: march 25

Height: 5'4

Honey

Favorite color: brick red

Favorite food: also cinnamon rolls, and mozzarella sticks

Favorite item/gift: he loves receiving any sort of figurine or trinket related to his latest obsession. honey is real nerdy, so cater to that and you're good! also nice kitchen supplies

Hobbies: learning new languages, romance novels, Spanish and Korean soap operas, Nintendo video games, baking, dungeons and dragons

Favorite flower: lilac

Favorite music: video game soundtracks

Best friend(s): salt basil

Age: 44

Birthday: march 2

Height: 6'3

Red

Favorite color: pastel yellow

Favorite food: hamburgers and barbeque

Favorite item/gift: star trek junk. nuff said

Hobbies: STAR TREK, fishing, trying new drinks, window shopping and taking apart and fixing up cars

Favorite flower: iris

Favorite music: country and alternative

Best friend(s): oak orion rust

Age: 66

Birthday: january 10

Height: 5'3

Edge

Favorite color: silver

Favorite food: lasagna and red wine

Favorite item/gift: he actually collects novelty pens and has a stationary addiction so anything like that is good

Hobbies: collecting pens, NASCAR, debate club, fencing, trying new French and Italian recipes, playing with his cat doomfanger, visiting animal shelters

Favorite flower: red roses

Favorite music: country and alternative

Best friend(s): rhythm sugar noir

Age: 43

Birthday: august 30

Height: 6'5

Mal

Favorite color: silver and gold

Favorite food: burritos and tres leches cake

Favorite item/gift: he loves receiving pretty polished stones or interesting shells and beads he can add to his jewelry

Hobbies: making jewelry, watercolor, gossiping, playing piano, knife throwing, clothes shopping

Favorite flower: yellow carnations

Favorite music: rap and piano covers

Best friend(s): wine lord

Age: 60

Birthday: july 4

Height: 5'0

Cash

Favorite color: neon orange

Favorite food: super spicy pizza

Favorite item/gift: gag gifts like glitter bombs, hideous clothing or hot sauce

Hobbies: collecting concerning amounts of salsas that could kill a child, pranks, parkour, money and budget managing, urban exploring

Favorite flower: thistle

Favorite music: musicals

Best friend(s): bruiser cricket coffee

Age: 51

Birthday: april 3

Height: 6'0

Oak

Favorite color: grass green

Favorite food: really big sandwiches

Favorite item/gift: just get him snacks and he'll love you forever. or notebooks.

Hobbies: taking care of his chickens, baking, fishing, nature walks, naps (lol), playing his trumpet

Favorite flower: echo flowers

Favorite music: jazz and instrumentals

Best friend(s): sans red rust basil

Age: 75

Birthday: january 28

Height: 6'4

Willow

Favorite color: tan or cream

Favorite food: fresh bread of course. he likes savory rolls best like mozzarella basil bread

Favorite item/gift: craft supplies! willow burns through those like no ones business

Hobbies: anything crafty; sewing, knitting, beading, clay etc.. he also plays the ukulele and loves baking of course.

Favorite flower: sunflowers

Favorite music: heavy metal and screamo

Best friend(s): noir papyrus basil

Age: 59

Birthday: may 22

Height: 8'0

Charm

Favorite color: black

Favorite food: chocolate cake and shrimp cocktails

Favorite item/gift: goofy cake toppers and eyeshadow palates

Hobbies: he loves makeup, cake decorating, hanging out with his niece, clubbing, drinking contests, pranks, gymnastics and biochemistry

Favorite flower: pink pam pams

Favorite music: Eurodance

Best friend(s): butch, sparks, salt taffy pudding

Age: 66

Birthday: may 8

Height: 5'1

Sugar

Favorite color: pastel pink and purple

Favorite food: red velvet and strawberry cake, strawberries, smoothies

Favorite item/gift: LACE, hes always running out of it when hes making new styles of dresses. also flowers

Hobbies: flower arrangements, dress making, sewing, romance novels, making smoothies, dancing, clubbing

Favorite flower: pink and white roses

Favorite music: swing

Best friend(s): rhythm pepper salt pudding taffy

Age: 52

Birthday: febuary 14

Height: 6'1

Lord

Favorite color: royal blue

Favorite food: veggie platters and carrot soup

Favorite item/gift: old history books and lawn ornaments

Hobbies: hes a total history nerd but likes ww1 and ww2 best, gardening, weightlifting, used book stores, gossiping, cleaning (no really)

Favorite flower: jasmine

Favorite music: blues

Best friend(s): wine mal

Age: 60

Birthday: september 14

Height: 5'0

Mutt

Favorite color: olive green

Favorite food: veggie wraps and coffee

Favorite item/gift: general animal supplies (bedding, canned food, etc..),

Hobbies: rehabilitating animals, writing novels, late night walks, bar fights (lol), boxing, stargazing

Favorite flower: dahlia

Favorite music: jazz and rap

Best friend(s): peaches coffee

Age: 53

Birthday: november 12

Height: 6'6

Wine

Favorite color: gold

Favorite food: KFC, almond or cherry ice cream, champagne

Favorite item/gift: getting vintage candles is always a good bet. he likes conspiracy books too

Hobbies: conspiracy theories, history channel, collecting vintage brooches, gossiping, bribery and blackmail, teaching high school age kids, clothes shopping, snooping

Favorite flower: white peony

Favorite music: classical

Best friend(s): mal lord harpy

Age: 64

Birthday: july 11

Height: 5'5

Coffee

Favorite color: peach

Favorite food: cookie themed ice cream, pumpkin spice lattes

Favorite item/gift: any sort of art supplies. he burns through them too fast

Hobbies: ART. he does it all, painting, charcoals, markers, digital. he also does a bit of woodworking and sewing too. loves worldbuilding games

Favorite flower: pink peony

Favorite music: video game soundtracks

Best friend(s): mutt slim

Age: 50

Birthday: march 5

Height: 6'0

Pop

Favorite color: periwinkle

Favorite food: fruit! fruit popsicles specifically. also honeycomb

Favorite item/gift: fruit and good shoes

Hobbies: urban exploring, breakdancing, soap making, collecting cool stuff he found outside, being a vent goblin, breaking the laws of physics

Favorite flower: daisy

Favorite music: hip hop

Best friend(s): pluto tempo stitches

Age: 52

Birthday: april 1

Height: 4'11

Rhythm

Favorite color: powder blue

Favorite food: waffles with fruit piled on top. pineapple

Favorite item/gift: cute shoes and scarves

Hobbies: dancing of course! he can do almost every style. raves, meeting new people, music concerts

Favorite flower: periwinkle

Favorite music: hip hop and salsa

Best friend(s): edge sugar vibrato crow

Age: 45

Birthday: august 9

Height: 6'4

Pluto

Favorite color: royal purple

Favorite food: burritos and hot chocolate

Favorite item/gift: rocks, fossils, crystals fluffy blankets

Hobbies: archeology, geology, astronomy, robotics, inventing new appliances, Disney movies

Favorite flower: allium

Favorite music: soothing asmr

Best friend(s): pop sans G lens

Age: 67

Birthday: september 7

Height: 4'7

Jupiter

Favorite color: royal purple

Favorite food: pancakes and protein shakes

Favorite item/gift: sunglasses and sports equipment

Hobbies: most sports in general but the favorites are rugby swimming and shotput. weightlifting hiking bench pressing people, card games

Favorite flower: clover

Favorite music: dance pop and indie

Best friend(s): papyrus lilac star

Age: 49

Birthday: july 29

Height: 6'5

G

Favorite color: mustard yellow

Favorite food: energy drinks and chicken nuggets

Favorite item/gift: he can be pretty hard to gift as he has very specific tastes, but he does collect old records

Hobbies: collecting music records, working on his bike, biology studies, first person shooter games,

Favorite flower: aster

Favorite music: rap

Best friend(s): sans lens pluto orion atlas

Age: 80

Birthday: january 1

Height: 5'9

Green

Favorite color: white

Favorite food: chai tea, fancy biscuits

Favorite item/gift: tea packets or cute succulents!

Hobbies: anatomy, his potted succulents, calligraphy, opera, playing piano

Favorite flower: aster

Favorite music: classical

Best friend(s): boss ace

Age: 79

Birthday: january 28

Height: 6'9

Peaches

Favorite color: apple red

Favorite food: pie!!!!

Favorite item/gift: pie lol, or any homemade food

Hobbies: tending his orchid, cooking, wrestling, photography, bird watching

Favorite flower: apple blossom

Favorite music: country

Best friend(s): mutt cider ram quill gears compass

Age: 51

Birthday: october 13

Height: 5'5

Rancher

Favorite color: Jean blue

Favorite food: eggs!

Favorite item/gift: good sturdy jeans and ammunition

Hobbies: hunting, tending his animals, wrestling, cooking, cliff jumping

Favorite flower: peach blossom

Favorite music: country

Best friend(s): barley ram pitch maple gears compass

Age: 46

Birthday: september 20

Height: 6'6

Snipe

Favorite color: heather grey

Favorite food: hamburgers coffee and tamales

Favorite item/gift: exotic plants, cigarettes and ammunition

Hobbies: shooting, collecting vintage guns, gardening, naps (lol), pranks

Favorite flower: white lilies

Favorite music: mariachi

Best friend(s): charm

Age: 58

Birthday: december 30

Height: 5'6

Bruiser

Favorite color: electric blue

Favorite food: tiramisu, pho

Favorite item/gift: running shoes and suspenders

Hobbies: collecting suspenders, running, parkour, pranks, reverse robbing criminals, street fights, basketball

Favorite flower: petunia

Favorite music: electric swing

Best friend(s): cricket cash G atlas

Age: 45

Birthday: july 25

Height: 6'7

Butch

Favorite color: black

Favorite food: cheesy fries, barbeque, vodka

Favorite item/gift: nice alcohol and scrap metal

Hobbies: blacksmithing, street fights, wrestling, kickboxing, weightlifting

Favorite flower: daffodils

Favorite music: indie rock

Best friend(s): charm

Age: 60

Birthday: may 6

Height: 5'9

Boss

Favorite color: navy blue

Favorite food: fancy teas and cheeses

Favorite item/gift: fancy cheese, chains and gloves

Hobbies: fencing, tea making, sewing, sparring, opera, shopping

Favorite flower: black lilies

Favorite music: classic rock

Best friend(s): green captain

Age: 50

Birthday: november 8

Height: 6'9

Ace

Favorite color: seashell pink

Favorite food: milkshakes and nachos

Favorite item/gift: any makeup item or colored contacts

Hobbies: makeup and disguises, detective work, poisons, gossiping, pranks, escape rooms

Favorite flower: wisteria

Favorite music: alternative and indie

Best friend(s): green

Age: 53

Birthday: febuary 13

Height: 5'5

Slim

Favorite color: neon yellow

Favorite food: French fries and tacos

Favorite item/gift: anime figurines, new video games, or stickers

Hobbies: anime and manga, coding, any sort of videogame, spyware, trap and techno music

Favorite flower: cockscomb

Favorite music: techno and game soundtracks

Best friend(s): coffee

Age: 48

Birthday: febuary 24

Height: 6'6

Rust

Favorite color: pastel yellow

Favorite food: bbq ribs

Favorite item/gift: large wood pieces and star trek stuff

Hobbies: star trek, woodworking fishing, crafts with his kiddos, secretly feeding the wild deer behind basils back

Favorite flower: iris

Favorite music: country and alternative

Best friend(s): red oak basil

Age: 76

Birthday: january 10

Height: 6'4

Noir

Favorite color: dark brown

Favorite food: angel hair pasta

Favorite item/gift: interestingly shaped pasta, old books, yoga mats

Hobbies: yoga, reading (everything) oil painting, cooking, gossip

Favorite flower: red roses

Favorite music: country and alternative

Best friend(s): willow edge basil

Age: 53

Birthday: august 30

Height: 8'0

Lilac

Favorite color: electric blue

Favorite food: cinnamon rolls and egg salad sandwiches

Favorite item/gift: shorts, frisbees and candies

Hobbies: ultimate frisbee, swimming, yoga, trying new drinks, jogging, sketching

Favorite flower: bluebells

Favorite music: dance pop

Best friend(s): star Jupiter papyrus

Age: 70

Birthday: march 25

Height: 6'6

Basil

Favorite color: mint

Favorite food: also cinnamon rolls and baby tomatoes

Favorite item/gift: vegetable seeds for his garden and new manga

Hobbies: reading manga and romance novels, baking, his garden, shooting the wild deer that eat his tomatoes in the bum with his bb gun

Favorite flower: lilac

Favorite music: kpop

Best friend(s): willow honey noir, tinker

Age: 54

Birthday: march 2

Height: 7'9

Gears

Favorite color: emerald green

Favorite food: stuffed mushrooms and anything with soy sauce

Favorite item/gift: pillows, shiny baubles like beads and cute planters!

Hobbies: urban exploring, dating sims, hiking, whittling

Favorite flower: buttercup

Favorite music: folk and indie

Best friend(s): quill peaches rancher stitches

Age: 49

Birthday: may 3

Height: 4'5

Compass

Favorite color: cinnamon

Favorite food: fish and chips, sometimes pringles

Favorite item/gift: molding clay, acrylic paints, glazes and acessories for his iguanas

Hobbies: hiking, pottery, horseback riding, dance video games, wrestling

Favorite flower: hyacinth

Favorite music: folk and country

Best friend(s): rancher alden peaches

Age: 42

Birthday: febuary 26

Height: 6'0

Sparks

Favorite color: aquamarine

Favorite food: slurpees or freezes, kettle corn

Favorite item/gift: movie posters and scripts, colorful leggings, goofy sunglasses

Hobbies: acting, raves, techo and electric swing music, parkour, gymnastics,

Favorite flower: bird of paradise

Favorite music: electric and rave

Best friend(s): star charm sugar lush

Age: 59

Birthday: december 7

Height: 5'4

Salt

Favorite color: blush pink

Favorite food: honeybuns and ladyfingers

Favorite item/gift: makeup palates, candies, soft hoodies

Hobbies: makeup art, shopping, romance novels, comedian shows, drink mixing

Favorite flower: honeysuckle

Favorite music: grunge

Best friend(s): honey charm pepper sugar

Age: 50

Birthday: may 18

Height: 6'3

Lush

Favorite color: velvet red

Favorite food: sweet and sour chicken

Favorite item/gift: anything homemade or sentimental, he's hard to buy for

Hobbies: boxing, boat rides, music concerts, budgeting

Favorite flower: orchids

Favorite music: hard rock

Best friend(s): sparks

Age: 63

Birthday: october 31

Height: 5'6

Pepper

Favorite color: white

Favorite food: spicy sushi and ginger

Favorite item/gift: custom jewelry, gloves, heels, and homemade food

Hobbies: fashion, hairstyling, nail art, swordplay

Favorite flower: veronica

Favorite music: pop

Best friend(s): sugar ollivander edge taffy pudding

Age: 51

Birthday: october 29

Height: 6'9

Orion

Favorite color: black

Favorite food: captain crunch and fruit loops

Favorite item/gift: art books, baseballs, accessories for his pet snake

Hobbies: tattoo art, sketching, baseball, deinking contests, costume parties

Favorite flower: pansy

Favorite music: any type of rock

Best friend(s): red G

Age: 60

Birthday: august 22

Height: 5'5

Atlas

Favorite color: ruby red

Favorite food: red wine and risotto

Favorite item/gift: sudoku books, model airplanes, star wars collectables

Hobbies: star wars, mathematics, putting together model kits, parkour,

Favorite flower: snowdrop

Favorite music: classical and screamo

Best friend(s): G bruiser

Age: 52

Birthday: august 2

Height: 6'7

Cider

Favorite color: wine purple

Favorite food: grapes and wine

Favorite item/gift: strategy board games, country music cds

Hobbies: country music, axe throwing, tending his quails, board games, jet skis

Favorite flower: tiger lily

Favorite music: country

Best friend(s): peaches ram moose harpy

Age: 50

Birthday: may 26

Height: 5'6

Barley

Favorite color: bright orange

Favorite food: beer and apple cider

Favorite item/gift: DnD accessories, guitar picks

Hobbies: playing the guitar and violin, singing, song writing, drink mixing, DnD

Favorite flower: violet

Favorite music: pop and pop rock

Best friend(s): rancher roost maple sails

Age: 42

Birthday: june 8

Height: 6'3

Ram

Favorite color: green

Favorite food: meat pies and beer

Favorite item/gift: blankets, pocket knives

Hobbies: dirt bikes, hunting and trapping, pranks, guns

Favorite flower: dandelion

Favorite music: country

Best friend(s): peaches rancher cider moose

Age: 49

Birthday: june 27

Height: 5'4

Pitch

Favorite color: cream

Favorite food: cheese and crackers

Favorite item/gift: BOOKS

Hobbies: READING, animals, horseback riding, hiking, dirt bikes

Favorite flower: daisy

Favorite music: country and swing

Best friend(s): rancher maple

Age: 40

Birthday: october 16

Height: 6'5

Moose

Favorite color: blueberry blue

Favorite food: blackberries and trout

Favorite item/gift: notebooks, vegetable seeds, good shoes

Hobbies: writing short stories, mythology, tending animals, gardening, hiking, his radio

Favorite flower: forget me nots

Favorite music: soft rock and country

Best friend(s): fisher peaches roost ram partner

Age: 64

Birthday: august 18

Height: 6'0

Maple

Favorite color: new wood brown

Favorite food: huckleberry cobbler and wild strawberries

Favorite item/gift: good wood for carving, power tools, whittling knives

Hobbies: carpentry, monopoly and other board games, hiking, war movies

Favorite flower: forget me nots

Favorite music: soft rock

Best friend(s): pitch sails rancher barley roost rowdy

Age: 53

Birthday: september 10

Height: 7'6

Fisher

Favorite color: royal purple

Favorite food: crab, lobster, crawfish

Favorite item/gift: tarot card decks and pretty hippie acessories

Hobbies: fishing, stargazing, astronomy, Astrology, tarot cards, palm reading and fortune telling.

Favorite flower: bird of paradise

Favorite music: indie

Best friend(s): hook sails moose finn papaya

Age: 60

Birthday: september 7

Height: 5'6

Jasper

Favorite color: neon green

Favorite food: energy drinks

Favorite item/gift: touristy gifts, travel books, paintball ammunition

Hobbies: rollercoasters, amusement parks, paintball, fishing, distance swimming

Favorite flower: zinna

Favorite music: pop and dance pop

Best friend(s): sails finn maple

Age: 25

Birthday: june 12

Height: 6'1

Finn

Favorite color: orange

Favorite food: lemonade and lemon sweets

Favorite item/gift: lemon candies, frisbees

Hobbies: horror books, playing frisbee, whittling, swimming, surfing

Favorite flower: sweet peas

Favorite music: hula and instrumental

Best friend(s): jasper, fisher, mango hook papaya

Age: 59

Birthday: january 2

Height: 5'6

Sails

Favorite color: sage green

Favorite food: orange juice and orange sweets

Favorite item/gift: essential oils, pretty beads, twine, weed

Hobbies: jewelry making, weed, sunbathing, his pet dog, making perfumes and incense

Favorite flower: pink cats

Favorite music: dubstep

Best friend(s): jasper fisher maple papaya

Age: 27

Birthday: june 30

Height: 6'6

Hook

Favorite color: copper

Favorite food: anything coconut

Favorite item/gift: renaissance books and art, coconut flavored candies

Hobbies: art from the renaissance and history, boxing, diving, surfing, knife throwing, astronomy

Favorite flower: cherry blossoms

Favorite music: shanty

Best friend(s): fisher, finn, roost silex

Age: 58

Birthday: october 22

Height: 5'7

Captain

Favorite color: ocean blue

Favorite food: wine, hot chocolate and fancy pasta

Favorite item/gift: leather, wax seals, feather pens

Hobbies: mapmaking, calligraphy, diving, wrestling, knife throwing, collecting wax stamp seals

Favorite flower: yellow roses

Favorite music: shanty and folk

Best friend(s): boss, hook silex

Age: 30

Birthday: november 8

Height: 6'8

Lens

Favorite color: grass green

Favorite food: potato chips

Favorite item/gift: animal slippers, blown glass trinkets

Hobbies: collecting blown glass art, chemistry and physics, bugs, watercolor

Favorite flowers: hyacinth

Favorite music: folk and indie

Best friend(s): sans Pluto G

Age: 69

Birthday: april 5

Height: 5'2

Cricket

Favorite color: neon purple

Favorite food: macaroons

Favorite item/gift: macaroons and spray paint cans

Hobbies: basketball, spray paint, fixing cars, fighting, parkour, sculpting

Favorite flower: petunias

Favorite music: soft rock or orchestra

Best friend(s): bruiser cash

Age: 49

Birthday: may 8

Height: 5'11

Quill

Favorite color: pastel purple

Favorite food: corn on the cob and corn bread

Favorite item/gift: stuffed animals, card decks

Hobbies: playing his violin, arcade claw games, gacha games, card games, fantsy novels

Favorite flower: fairy roses

Favorite music: kpop

Best friend(s): gears peaches harpy

Age: 59

Birthday: may 1

Height: 4'10

Crow

Favorite color: silver

Favorite food: mixed nuts

Favorite item/gift: trail mixes, stationary

Hobbies: collecting cute stationary, archery, playing darts and pool. reality tv shows

Favorite flower: lotus flower

Favorite music: electronica

Best friend(s): vibrato tempo rhythm

Age: 51

Birthday: april 9

Height: 5'11

Tempo

Favorite color: royal purple

Favorite food: sour gummy worms

Favorite item/gift: shiny keychains and meme tshirts

Hobbies: music in any form, song writing and composing, instruments, painting, VR games, his pet ferret

Favorite flower: cactus blooms

Favorite music: all of it, but especially movie soundtracks and orchestra

Best friend(s): pop rhythm crow stitches

Age: 50

Birthday: march 3

Height: 5'4

Vibrato

Favorite color: hot pink

Favorite food: strawberry cake.

Favorite item/gift: feather boas, glitter

Hobbies: singing, karaoke, being with friends, playing instruments, drink mixing, watching sparring matches

Favorite flower: hot pink tulips

Favorite music: all of it, but especially pop rock

Best friend(s): mango, crow, rhythm, stitches

Age: 29

Birthday: april 20

Height: 6'8

Helios

Favorite color: moon blue

Favorite food: sour straws and warhead candies

Favorite item/gift: snail supplies, dbz merch

Hobbies: dragon ball z, combat, raising snails

Favorite flower: moondrops

Favorite music: heavy metal

Best friend(s): artemis

Age: 44

Birthday: july 17

Height: 5'0

Artemis

Favorite color: sun yellow

Favorite food: herby chicken breast

Favorite item/gift: fantasy novels, snail jewelry

Hobbies: raising snails and plants, reading

Favorite flower: sunflowers

Favorite music: heavy metal

Best friend(s): Helios

Age: 36

Birthday: october 4

Height: 6'0

Roost

Favorite color: earthy cool brown

Favorite food: paella

Favorite item/gift: cheese, flowers wine

Hobbies: floral arrangements, hunting flirting, soccer

Favorite flower: morning glories

Favorite music: country

Best friend(s): arwin, barley hook, hilda, shield partner

Age: 53

Birthday: june 30

Height: 5'4

Harpy

Favorite color: wine purple

Favorite food: pita bread and wine

Favorite item/gift: old weapons, fine wine

Hobbies: wine tasting, shopping, combat

Favorite flower: ivy

Favorite music: jazz

Best friend(s): barin, cider, quill wine

Age: 42

Birthday: november 6

Height: 6'9

Mango

Favorite color: fire red

Favorite food: shrimp cocktails and ginger beer

Favorite item/gift: nail accessories and fishing equipment

Hobbies: zumba, fishing, swimming, raising koi fish

Favorite flower: hibiscus

Favorite music: techno and rave

Best friend(s): finn vibrato

Age: 62

Birthday: april 23

Height: 4'11

Papaya

Favorite color: turquoise

Favorite food: haystacks and tropical fruit

Favorite item/gift: bowling shoes, bath acessories

Hobbies: bowling shopping swimming

Favorite flower: orange poppies

Favorite music: folk

Best friend(s): finn sails fisher

Age: 36

Birthday: september 16

Height: 6'3

Alden

Favorite color: gold and purple

Favorite food: watercress sandwiches and sparkling wine

Favorite item/gift: crystals, card decks

Hobbies: sculpting, playing the harp, comedy shows

Favorite flower: gold roses

Favorite music: opera

Best friend(s): Tempo, compass, pepper

Age: 68

Birthday: december 11

Height: 5'5

Ollivander

Favorite color: emerald green

Favorite food: puff pastries and croissants

Favorite item/gift: tapestries and robes, batman

Hobbies: collecting art and antiques, DC comics and movies

Favorite flower: moon drops

Favorite music: opera

Best friend(s): pepper, lush, wine

Age: 60

Birthday: january 2

Height: 6'6

Barin

Favorite color: gold

Favorite food: boar meat and mead

Favorite item/gift: musicians, beer, telescopes

Hobbies: All of it

Favorite flower: dandelions

Favorite music: classic rock and country

Best friend(s): moose, maple, harpy thistle yarrow

Age: 71

Birthday: march 14

Height: 5'10

Arwin

Favorite color: sky blue

Favorite food: honeycomb and ale

Favorite item/gift: murder mystery books, honey treats

Hobbies: dancing, partying, true crime

Favorite flower: honeysuckle

Favorite music: rave, techno, dance pop

Best friend(s): roost maple barley thistle yarrow

Age: 59

Birthday: august 5

Height: 6'8

Sir

Favorite color: crimson

Favorite food: all of it

Favorite item/gift: fine china sets, feather pens

Hobbies: calligraphy dancing boxing hosting

Favorite flower: dark red roses

Favorite music: grunge

Best friend(s): butler charm

Age: 68

Birthday: october 23

Height: 5'4

Weasel

Favorite color: orange

Favorite food: napoleon ice cream

Favorite item/gift: scrap glass and sea glass, old porcelain dolls, comic books

Hobbies: making sun catchers, gossiping, card tricks, soap operas

Favorite flower: daisies

Favorite music: punk and country

Best friend(s): pesto flambe gold

Age: 52

Birthday: october 13

Height: 6'2

Butler

Favorite color: cream

Favorite food: wine and cheesecake

Favorite item/gift: floral fabric, vintage guns, wine

Hobbies: rock concerts, shooting range, making floral arrangements

Favorite flower: lavender

Favorite music: punk rock

Best friend(s): sir wine

Age: 68

Birthday: december 4

Height: 5'5

Gold

Favorite color: black

Favorite food: fried tomatoes and cream cheese frosting

Favorite item/gift: icing pipes, collars and chokers, eyeshadow palettes, lace

Hobbies: making accessories, pastry art, goth fashion, fruit carving

Favorite flower: black lilies

Favorite music: classical

Best friend(s): weasel pesto

Age: 49

Birthday: october 31

Height: 6'1

Flambé

Favorite color: red

Favorite food: cucumber slices, greek salad

Favorite item/gift: bath salts, dried herbs, jewelry, nail polish, perfumes

Hobbies: nail art, dancing, pole dancing, spa days

Favorite flower: poppies

Favorite music: generic pop

Best friend(s): sir, mal, weasel

Age: 55

Birthday: july 9

Height: 5'3

Pesto

Favorite color: powder blue

Favorite food: margarita pizza, pesto

Favorite item/gift: cooking utensils, vintage pins, ammunition

Hobbies: gardening, cooking, shooting range, thrift shopping

Favorite flower: forget me nots

Favorite music: pop and poprock

Best friend(s): weasel gold sir

Age: 54

Birthday: june 7

Height: 6'5

Hilda

Favorite color: blood red

Favorite food: craft beer and hotdogs

Favorite item/gift: drafting paper, horse accessories, wrestling masks

Hobbies: wrestling, horseback riding, architectural design

Favorite flower: dandelions

Favorite music: punk rock

Best friend(s): shield, roost, rancher

Age: 66

Birthday: may 9

Height: 5'6

Saga

Favorite color: white

Favorite food: cheese and crackers

Favorite item/gift: books, horse accessories, pearl jewelry

Hobbies: horseback riding, Victorian fashion, filing, reading

Favorite flower: day lilies

Favorite music: classical

Best friend(s): zen harpy

Age: 63

Birthday: april 8

Height: 6'6

Zen

Favorite color: bronze

Favorite food: honey glazed pears and goat milk

Favorite item/gift: mead, cheese, bird feeders, cool driftwood

Hobbies: birdwatching, the texts of mother magic, playing the lute, harp and fiddle

Favorite flower: apple blossoms

Favorite music: insturmentals

Best friend(s): saga

Age: 67

Birthday: febuary 25

Height: 5'0

Shield

Favorite color: royal purple

Favorite food: craft beer and nachos

Favorite item/gift: shooter video games, weirdly shaped gourds, patriotic tshirts

Hobbies: sparring, first person shooter games, swimming, gourd art

Favorite flower: daffodils

Favorite music: rave and techno

Best friend(s): hilda, roost

Age: 35

Birthday: april 18

Height: 6'1

Partner

Favorite color: blue, just blue

Favorite food: garlic bread and fancy bread rolls

Favorite item/gift: leather goods, hats, buckles, axes

Hobbies: axe throwing, riding, exploring, horror stories

Favorite flower: clovers

Favorite music: country

Best friend(s): cider moose

Age: 68

Birthday: august 23

Height: 5'7

Rowdy

Favorite color: sunny yellow

Favorite food: parsnip soup and orange juice

Favorite item/gift: animal anatomy books, bandanas, livestock breed catalogues

Hobbies: anatomy, comedy podcasts, line dancing

Favorite flower: orange tree blossoms

Favorite music: pop or country

Best friend(s): maple

Age: 27

Birthday: june 1

Height: 6'4

Stitches

Favorite color: neon pink

Favorite food: corn dogs and marshmallows

Favorite item/gift: super hero gifts and comics, cartoon gifts, squishmallows, vintage cartoon dvds, toy instruments, cookie jars

Hobbies: playing the keyboard, voice acting, watching cartoons, thrift shopping

Favorite flower: rainbow roses

Favorite music: disco

Best friend(s): pop tempo vibrato gears

Age: 40

Birthday: may 7

Height: 4'8

Tinker

Favorite color: dark purple

Favorite food: jello and boba tea

Favorite item/gift: yarn, knitting and crochet hooks, brooches, rag dolls, records, vintage fabric

Hobbies: crochet, knitting sewing daydreaming

Favorite flower: violets

Favorite music: jazz

Best friend(s): basil

Age: 40

Birthday: may 7

Height: 5'11

Pearl

Favorite color: coral pink

Favorite food: chicken nuggets and fancy chocolates

Favorite item/gift: fine jewelry, seashells, head accessories, old movies

Hobbies: watching black and white movies, watching jousts and spars, floral arrangements, shopping

Favorite flower: lily pad flowers

Favorite music: swing

Best friend(s): pudding

Age: 50

Birthday: november 4

Height: 6'0 long, stands upright at 5'6

Silex

Favorite color: silver

Favorite food: sushi and alcohol

Favorite item/gift: food, weird surface trinkets

Hobbies: jousting hunting racing exploring watching spars

Favorite flower: jasmine

Favorite music: electro swing

Best friend(s): hook captain yarrow

Age: 44

Birthday: september 9

Height: 7'3 long, stands upright at 6'2

Taffy

Favorite color: black

Favorite food: truffles and grape soda

Favorite item/gift: horror movies, cute aprons, leg warmers, stuffed bunnies, fancy wrapping paper

Hobbies: baking and candy making, watching horror movies, clubbing, taste testing

Favorite flower: fairy roses

Favorite music: dance pop

Best friend(s): charm pepper sugar

Age: 60

Birthday: may 24

Height: 5'0

Pudding

Favorite color: lime green

Favorite food: rock candy and orange soda

Favorite item/gift: crystals, headbands, bandanas, mary jane shoes, bodybuilding magazines

Hobbies: dancing, dance video games, watching spars

Favorite flower: tulips

Favorite music: kpop

Best friend(s): charm pepper sugar pearl

Age: 39

Birthday: febuary 17

Height: 6'0

Thistle

Favorite color: navy blue

Favorite food: baked potatoes with tuna and herbal tea

Favorite item/gift: fluffy bedding, toad and newt decor, candles, minecraft gifts

Hobbies: playing minecraft, decorating, making cleaning potions

Favorite flower: echo flowers

Favorite music: goth music

Best friend(s): barin arwin Age: 58 Birthday: febuary 24 Height: 5'8

Yarrow

Favorite color: blood red

Favorite food: clams mussels and herbal tea

Favorite item/gift: horror movies, satchels, travel souvenirs, spiderman comics, bitty sized clothes

Hobbies: watching horror movies, rock climbing, exploring, swimming, making potions

Favorite flower: red roses

Favorite music: goth music

Best friend(s): arwin barin silex, Age:49, Birthday: october 7, Height: 6'10

[for-my-mind-to-run-around-free]

It's back to school time again and I just realised why I am struggling so much more with the transition than I ever did in my life.

When i was starting a school year in primary or even secondary school, I'd be really excited and motivated. New stationary, new school supplies, books, uniform... the preparation of it all made me really excited to start school and motivated while slowly switching my mind from holiday mode to school mode. The first week of school, I'd be super motivated to do all the work because during the holidays I'd be so understimulated that I would crave any type of situmulation. Especially with the novelty of a new year, I couldn't wait to get going.

And every year, we'd have a slow start, where there'd be no real lessons and work to do for the first few days or even the week. That would drop my momentum instantly, and when the real work strated, I'd be sturggling with my ADHD, but no longer with the transition aspect of it. Plus, it was always easy enough that I didn't really need to transition into a full proper work mode like i do this year.

As school got harder though, I needed to actually pay more attention, do more work, and actually stay concentrated on a subject for longer than 30 mins to understand what the fuck is going on because damn when you combine series, trig stuff, weird e's and complex numbers with each other it should still make sense. (i still don't know how, but apparently it will at some point...)

when we have a week off, It takes me a week to get back into the school work flow, and i always just thought that was normal. Like you a have a week of holiday and a transition week of small amounts of school work. When I am no longer allowed to do that because there is just THAT much work, I fall behind. Last spring was the first time I realised that, and right now, that's what I am struggling with the most.

I have to retake an exam and the exam is the day before school officially starts. I am really struggling to switch off the holiday mode and go into work mode. There is no new stationary, books or uniform this year either because I am actually too old for it all. I am finally old enough to have to try and figure it out all on my own... and I don't know how to.

I don't know what to do... or how to do it

[kingthunder]

unusual OC associations, bg3 edition

Lucky ✨🎵

(swords bard/fighter)

Seasoning: ginger and cinnamon and black pepper, spice with no heat

Weather: 72F/22C, not hot and not cold bc this bitch likes to be comfy

Color: red (the custom soles of his boots and his lacy underwear)

Sky: blue skies with enough white fluffy clouds that the sun isn't glaring—again, he likes to be comfy

Magical power: cockblocking (counterspell, hypnotic pattern, hold person, etc)

Houseplant: they all died

Weapon: being a lying liar who lies

Subject: history, but like the drunk history version of it

Social media: unfortunately he'd probably be making tiktoks

Makeup product: eyeliner and lip balm. adventuring is hell for chapped lips

Candy: chocolate, the sweeter the better

Fear: giant spiders, being forgotten

Ice cube shape: novelty ice cube tray shaped like stars

Method of long distance travel: in this setting he's walking like everyone else but if you put him irl he'd probably sweet talk his friends with cars into taking him places

Art style: bold colors and messy lines

Mythological creature: phoenix

Piece of stationary: he's scribbling shit down on old receipts

Emojis: ✨🎵🔥😏🫦🎸🧀🏳️‍🌈

Celestial body: jupiter because he's a puffed up gasbag 😂

I was tagged in this by @autumnlassitude ty! ❤️Idk which of my bg3 mutuals are into this kind of thing, so I'm copping out and tagging anyone who sees this and wants to do it; please tag me back if you do so I can see your little guys (gender neutral).