ᴍɪᴄʜᴀᴇʟ ❛ ɢᴏᴏʙ ❜ ʏᴀɢᴏᴏʙɪᴀɴ
michael yagoobian is based on goob from meet the robinsons. he is a 26 year old human, little league coach, and uses he/him pronouns. he has no powers.
penned by HARPER
reflection
face claim: deaken bluman sexuality: (closeted) homosexual height: 6'0 eye color: hazel hair color: dark brown piercings: n/a tattoos: n/a
attitude
positive traits: obedient, disciplined, introverted, soft-spoken, patient, athletic, perceptive negative traits: overthinking, antisocial, cowardly, pessimistic, uncommunicative, believes everyone is against him likes: baseball, black and white films, using traditional fountain pen and parchment paper to doodle, high top converse, being alone, the library, old books with worn pages, the smell of sage, flannel, dark denim, instrumentals dislikes: big crowds, drawn out conversations, talking about family, bright lights, talking to strangers, horror movies, drinking, going out of his comfort zone phobias: paranoia hobbies: coaching little league baseball, going to the batting cages, doodling on park benches, going on walks at night with his headphones in, collecting bottle caps and vintage coins, spending a lot of time alone aesthetic: the quite whispers you hear when you walk into a library, the sound of a wooden bat hitting the sole of a cleat to remove the dirt from it, the smell of popcorn at a baseball game, the scratching of a pen tip against aged paper, black ink, the words of edgar allen poe, the steam coming off a cup of hot coffee
relations
mother: n/a father: n/a sibling(s): n/a pet(s): n/a
headcanons
a large sweater, worn and grey, filled with holes in peculiar spots and smelling like a mix of dust and ever-lingering fabric softener that brings goob and ever-lasting sense of comfort.
goob is the moment where the sun has long set over the mountains and is now out of view, the cool briskness of the evening has settled over the earth and the creatures of the night have found their posts, singing their concerto. despite the peace it should all bring there is a lingering shadow that is a constant reminder that one is never truly alone in the darkness.
a worn baseball glove, well loved with faded leather and splintering laces, hardly any use in an actual game but sentimental and more valuable than anything else.
goob is constantly wincing at physical contact, disturbed by displays of wild and gleeful emotions, and uncomfortable with conversations involving himself or his life or… well, conversations in general.
he is incredibly opinionated, and doesn't really take the consideration of others into account when sharing those opinions. the world is a dark and bleak place, so why should he bother trying to conform to this happy go-lucky candor everyone expects from a stranger they've never met ??
on the rare occasion that goob is enraged, it is not just a simple display of anger. it is explosive, like that of a tsunami building up in the middle of the ocean and, all of the sudden, hurling at the shore at a drop of a hat. uncontrolled, unrestrained.
stacks of books left in the sorting room of a library, unsorted and endowed with years of supposed torture from oiled fingers flipping through pages, tearing them out, marked up with ink that was smeared by seemingly frustrated palms, covered in dust and cob webs… while one may call them well-loved, those who understand know the books and their stories were left abandoned solely because a select few could understand them.
goob does not think he is capable of loving or being loved, as he spent his entire youth being unwanted and unselected in an orphange. he was once envious of the kids around him who were able to have found families but, eventually, came to realize that it was his own fault that no one wanted him. he doesn't see that fact changing in his adulthood.
