Miguel Cardosa

A writer. A liar. An abuser of drugs, of people, of facts, and reality. A charming son of a bitch, whose mouth can outrun his conscience.

[kuwentista]

[miguelcardosa]

kuwentista​:

pretty ↳ Episode 408; Good Trouble

[miguelcardosa]

katiewright​:

everything was on the correct hanger, organized by cast member, sorted by color, ready to be pulled at a moment’s notice. she liked doing the camera tests, almost more than shooting the films, because it was the last chance to change everything before they were tied into three copies of the same outfit. which wasn’t to say she didn’t like that part— it just wasn’t her favorite. 

the door burst open, ruining the negative thought before it had a chance to take root and throw her off balance as the intruder pulled at loose pieces hanging from her racks. “oh shoot, no i—” there’s an immediate panic in her voice, hands up as though the surrender will prevent her wardrobe from being harmed any more. “i think you have the wrong room.”

"No, no, no! It is the Wright room! See, see?" He gleams back at her as he points to her own sign, proud and hopeless for all the wrong reasons. "The W! It is for winning! I won you, right cat! The W! Upside down! It is M! It is me! Miguel! It is all there! It is a sign!" Big grin, as if he is God's favorite, a god made in his own image instead of vice versa, with arms wide open and coming closer to a parish of one. "You and your angel hands! They are mine! Look, look!" Both of his hands have taken just one of hers, manipulating the two fingers in the air. "Look at them! They love it! You are doing the scissoring! Much practice! I see it! I love it! What do they want to do the snip snip to first, scissor girl? Tell me, tell me!"

[miguelcardosa]

@katiewright​

Wright, Katie. Those were the words on the door. Wardrobe beneath it. The name has filtered through his head, said by someone else reading off of a piece of paper, whether that belonged to the 365 film held very little bearing. Miguel was already inside, feather boa around his waist, tied over the beach shorts labeled 'Mamma Mia,' combing through the rest of the treasures hanging up.

"This, this, this! Yes, yes! You are the right cat!" he greets her without introduction, pulling out what he's found: the loose string that once belonged as a basic belt, now held up in the air, anointed by Miguel's two hands. "It is everything!" Perfect for all the cast to wear. Perfect for all the crew to wear! "Come, come, come! Tie me up! Anywhere! Everywhere! I love it!"

[kuwentista]

gael and his pretty curls… ↳ Episode 102; Good Trouble

[miguelcardosa]

Headcanon List

Basics

Full Name: Miguel Cardosa

--Formerly Known As: Rodrigo Álvarez Cardosa

Birthday: May 23

Age: 31

Zodiac Sign: Gemini

Religion: Catholic

–Religious Level (1-10): 7! Much God! I love it!

Birthplace: Fortalez, Brazil

Current Residence: Los Angeles, California

Height: 6’ 2″

Hair Color: Dark brown

Eye Color: Dark brown

Sexuality: All the sexual!

Love/Romantic Preference: All the romantic!

Relationship Status: Bachelor for Lyfe

Languages Known: Portuguese, Spanish, English (70% proficiency), gibberish (100% proficiency)

Details

Car: All the cars!!! Look at them run! All of the cars are his! /// Miguel will just steal a ride or a bike. He doesn’t.... own... anything... or have insurance... .or even a legitimate license. It’s fine.

Phone: iPhone 11 Pro in forest green (belonged to a cancelled contract) UPDATE: lost it. UPDATE: found a purple iPhone 12 mini in a purse!!!! A miracle!!! Look look look at the tiny talk box! UPDATE: found the iPhone 11 Pro!!! It changed colors!!! It is now gold!!! Another miracle!!! kkkk!!

Music Genres: Dance/electronica. Deep bass. House. Notable artist: Tove Lo

Wardrobe: Trashwear. Long tank tops, shorts, skinny jeans with holes in them, fishnet top, no top, hot priest look, sandals, no sandals, white tennis shoes with hot pink trim, light up sneakers, shirts with rips in the back of them

Estimated Net Worth: ????? Could be 0! Could be millions! Who knows! Swings constantly and it all centers on what he steals and what he blows.

Ransom Value: Your love! It is all that he needs! kkkk

Bloodlines + Connections

Lola Esparza | Former love of his life!/Baby mama

Desi Esparza | Daughter | Frequently forgotten!

Tomas de Visser | Toemoss!!!! | Husband!! has it in writing in his stomach!

Julian Santiago | The very very very angry one!!!! I love it! Loves the knives! Loves the fists!

Claudia Marshall | Spice Girl!!!! Look at her!!! Look at her and her cinnamontografee!!!

Eloise Bardot | Coca Cola Girl!!! All the fizz!!

Micah Bates | Mr. Boom boom!!!

Rowan Young | The Paper Boy!!!! | Customer

Zoe Marshall | Baby cat!!! 

and some brothers and sisters or maybe one sister and one brother and some parents. who’s to say!

Levels

Drinking (1-10): 9! Love the drinking! All the drinking!

Swearing: 2! Surprisingly, he only says dirty shit and that’s... it weirdly.

Smoking status: Tobacco? 1. Smoking drugs? 10!

Drugs: 10! Love the drugs! All the drugs!

Cooking proficiency: 1. Pot is an ingredient not a tool :/

Intelligence: 5. Idiot, but also... smarter than you would give him credit for. But still an idiot.

Emotional/Social Intelligence: 7. Charismatic! But doesn’t understand no!

Creativity: 10! Panda twerking mastermind

Temper: 1??? I’ve never seen Miguel mad before. Very happy-go-lucky. Take away his drugs though and.... I think he would be a very bad man. I don’t trust him.

Filmography (incomplete) || * indicates secretly stolen

Get Him to the Greek (2010)

Limitless (2011)

After.Life (2019) *

Jennifer’s Body (2020) *

[miguelcardosa]

God made a masterpiece (God made a masterpiece) You're in a league all by yourself And I got a fantasy (I got a fantasy) Get into bed with me (get into bed with me) Promise you that we'll rule the world Sexy motherfucker (sexy mother) I'm lookin' at you (I'm lookin' at you) Why don't you go ahead and move on up (you better move up now) Make that space for two (bang bang)

[miguelcardosa]

tomas-visser​:

“I– ..I’m giving you confusion,” Tomas sighed, rubbing his temple that was starting to bring along a throbbing pain. “Just- open the door.” Hoping to all high hells that Miguel would listen and stop making a ruckus from the window. He did his beat to completely ignore Miguel’s cries, often masking as a need for help for absolute nonsense instead.

He folded his arms standing in front of the main door, glancing around to make sure no one was staring at the embarrassment that ensued by this household. A quiet, calm neighbourhood, or cul de sac, for this time of the day. It still seemed weird for Miguel to buy a house here much less live here. Guess that’s why he’s rarely at this one, and probably why he lost the keys.

Tomas jumped slightly at the knocks from the inside, not exactly expecting it to come by, “what-..?” He blinked one, two times, processing what the other was asking. Was he.. asking him to follow the knock knock joke? Or give him one? Both are ridiculous. Yet he complied, folded arms tightening with tension, “uh- who’s.. there?” That’s how the joke goes, right?

Miguel's toes curled against the jelly soles in bottled excitement, nerves sparking across the railing of the veins, clumps of dissolved white powder floating throughout. He stared at the door as if he was addressing it and it alone, bright smile blinding the vision as he listened to it talk back to him. "It is me! Miguel!” Immediate answer, why wouldn’t it be! “You are a very, very beautiful door! Look at you! You cannot! Your eyes! You have none! I hate it!" he whined as he fell forward against it, flattening himself against it with cheek pressed to the frosted glass panel, reminding him of the figure outside. "Toemoss! I see you! You and your beautiful eyes! Give them to me!" The cheek was replaced with the forehead, brim of the nose hitting against the smooth surface with it to look out at the foggy shape.

"Who is there, who?" he asked back with quizzical smile, eyeball peering over, close to the blurred surface as if he had suddenly remembered the game at all. "Tell me, tell me! Speak the French to me! It is me! Your angel cake boy! I have missed you! Come, come, come! Come to the beautiful door! Close, close, close! I need you!"

[miguelcardosa]

tomas-visser​:

He’s mine. How hard was that to understand? How hard was it to say it out loud? Somehow it felt almost harder than telling Juno he didn’t know how to share him, he didn’t want to share him. And here they were, Tomas lacking the courage to confront the situation constantly hanging in limbo when Miguel refused to listen to subtlety or reason. “I’m not walking out on him. Just.. nevermind,” he sighed softly to the void for no one to hear. Mostly focused on being assaulted within the next second, “I’m pretty sure that’s not Brazil, no that’s just your tongue. Please don’t do that..” he’s shaking because it was gross, and he was caught off guard. Also because Miguel was heavy.

Tomas gave him the push up the moment Miguel had found purchase into through the window. Wincing as he heard the crash, perhaps to pushed up way too hard. “Uh.. you okay..?” Tomas hesitantly asked but frowned the moment long arms stick out of the windows grasping the air for his own. “…Paris room?” He questioned the air between them before shaking the thought off for more pressing situations, “uh no thank you.. you could just– open the front door.” Tomas was already backing away without waiting for a reply and instead finding his way to the safer, less painful and awkward entrance, just waiting for the other man to open up. Paris room still bugging him as it showed through his furrowed brows.

"Yes, yes, yes! The room of the Paris! Your face! I see it! You are under me! You are giving me the face! You are giving soft!" he called back down to Tomas while his foot still remained on the shattered glass, the photo that was hidden behind another one with the Dutch boy's smile gleaming up. Another boy! The angel boy! He was there, too! Under the sole of the mix-matched jelly shoe.

"Toemoss!" His body was leaning out over the sill, nearly at the tipping point of landing flat on his face outside, hands opening and closing for the actor to reach up, only to watch as he moved away. "You are leaving me! I am doing the hanging!" His body went limp, arms lying like slugs against the outside walls with black curls covering his face before being thrown back in the quick snatch up again, seeing the figure become smaller in his movements away. Out of sight. Out of mind.

"Knock knock!" his voice finally came after minutes went by, rapping his knuckles against the door as though it was the other that had to open up. "Come, come, come! Do the knock knock, Toemoss! It is a joke! You will love it! I have seen it! The vision! It is here!" he exclaimed, back against the solid door, flimsy photo scratched by broken glass in his hands, ready to show at a moment’s notice.

[miguelcardosa]

tomas-visser​:

“Not our Juno either..” he was tempted to say my Juno, but he didn’t belong to anyone, “we’re not just-.. sharing him.” Saying that already felt wrong like he’s some kind of item to be passed around. Yet Miguel didn’t see any wrong to it at all. “No it’s not, I’ve never even been th- hey!” The shiver ran up his spine in the disgust as he wiggled out of his hold, stumbling a few steps back to make a safe distance between them, trying to clean out any left over evidence of a tongue ever in his ear with the hem of his shirt, face grimacing with the feeling and even the thought of the feeling. Though even then he felt bad for the overreaction, was it am overreaction? “sorry-.. um, please don’t do that..”

Miguel just had.. a grotesque way with words twisting into innuendos that constantly made Tomas uncomfortable. Though Tomas tried not to let it show, the occasional involuntary squirm or wince, “no mounting, or top, or bottoming– please.” A quiet muttering plea, too soft to hear, before he raised his voice louder, “just get in.” He felt the weight on his thigh, the other on his hands before he pushed Miguel up, hoping he grabbed onto the window as he gave him the push to go inside. “You got it?”

The world donated a fraction of its time to Miguel, donated or tossed aimlessly into a trashcan called the void, but in either light, whether rose-tinted or unflatteringly fluorescent, the man from Brazil's lips circled, puckered up as if to suck in the information that passed out of Tomas. Not our Juno! No sharing! "No, no, no! Toemoss! What are these words! What is this that is being said? Why is your tongue doing the flips like this? He is always ours! You cannot walk out on us like this! Your legs! Where would they take you? Where Judas lost his boots! Never! Wrap them around me! You will forever be here! With us!" There was as little successful communication that came from that as the reaction Tomas gave towards Miguel's mouth near his ear, the sudden knee-jerk reaction of flying off, only for the instigator to beam and clap his hands once. "Yes, yes, yes! You felt it! You felt the power of Brasil! The special tingle! Look, look! You are shaking! I love it!"

Hands gripped onto the sill of the window before the pane of glass was slid to the side, opening gap large enough to fit him. "Toemoss!" he called out, the push sending his head through. "We are coming!" And then there was the crash, the sound of the rest of him in the room, picture frame cracked apart, now lying in pieces on the floor. Shattered glass! Nature’s doorbell! Wild curls were soon seen again, bouncing in the quickness to look down at fellow accomplice with gleaming teeth. "It is your turn, Toemoss! I will make you come!" he promised, hanging out, hands outstretched, grabbing onto the air in rapid speed for the chef to accept. "Take me, take me! Come, come, come! I will give you anything! Everything! I need my Toemoss! He needs me! Come to the Paris room with me!"

[miguelcardosa]

tomas-visser​:

Tomas only gave him a strange stare in reply to that claim, half believing it, half knowing it’s bullshit but.. just how fucking rich are you?? It’s been this long here and yet Tomas still found it hard to comprehend the wealth some of these people have. Somewhere it wouldn’t seem completely out of the realm that Miguel Cardosa wouldn’t have 360 houses to his name. “No I didn’t you’re just–” he cuts himself off with a frustrated sigh and a pinch to the bridge of his nose, letting Miguel push him to wherever he needed him.

“He’s not yours,” it came out as a very soft mutter disguised in a breath of laughter, he’s definitely not ours. Perhaps it was out of spite, of the irrational jealousy that still lingered, but he hoped Miguel’s zealousness just overlooks it and never heard it at all. “That’s because I’m not from Brazil at all-” Brazil would probably eat him alive. Tomas looked up at the window slightly above his height, probably the reason why Miguel needed him here, someone taller to get into his house which- of course he lost the keys to. Tomas could easily reach it with a stretch of his arms to push it open it if isn’t locked. “That’s not needed..” he simply reached up, hand pushing against the glass that easily gave in to the pressure - not locked. “I can get you up in there,” Tomas bent lower, patting his knee, an easy step and push could get him back inside. No further bullshitting, just help Miguel and call it a day.

"Yes, yes, yes! Not my Juno! Our Juno! I love it! Sharing! It is the way of love! You hit the fly!" he praised senselessly, as was Miguel's modus operandi, smile of splendor unraveling across his face for one chef. It stayed in place, the mention of a home so lost to time by his splintered, rose-colored memory keeping it alive. "Toemoss! Brasil! It is there! Inside of you! Always a piece with you! Forever! I will show you!" he teased, slingshot movement of the head, swinging in a tilt with tongue pointed out, hard dab at the other's ear from behind before kissing noises filtered down in the canal.

His favorite! Hands massaging into his shoulders before Tomas was able to twist into freedom, watching his hand pat his knee next, beckoning him to climb him. It left the writer to press his palms together, fingers steepling, tips to his lips as he thought over everything, a breeze passing between his ears in the beat of silence before it was shattered by his widening mouth. "Yes, yes, yes! I will mount you! Toemoss! I love it!" he beamed as his foot raised, finding purchase on where he was directed. "You are the bottom! I am the top! Beauty! It is you! Only you can take me to Heaven! You and your angel cake face!"

[miguelcardosa]

tomas-visser​:

The perplexed look on his face was hard to hide as he stared at the house, something just felt off, “this wasn’t your last place we met..” he dare glanced back to Miguel, “how many houses to you have?” The wealth around here is scary sometimes. “No- I’m not, I don’t have one,” but he was off to his antics pulling something out of his bag - who knows what else he had in there, Tomas simply stared at the broken glasses in his hand. Out of courtesy, pocketing it away for now even though Miguel decided to put it on, “careful.. don’t let it cut you.” It was impossible to not give him the warning.

He winced slightly at the outburst of clarity regarding Juno, “what- do you mean? Juno’s fine..” he stood firmly on that, knowing where he left Juno safe and sound, or as safe and sound as going to Prometheus to work could be. “He doesn’t need us,” he doesn’t need you. But Tomas was already here, and if Miguel needed genuine help was he really one to say no? “So.. you lost your keys?”

"All the houses! One for every day! The 360!" Was the lie too aggressive? Too large? Too incorrect in every which way? Never! Look at that gleaming smile, a thousand rows of sparkling white just dancing in the sunlight. Tomas' warning only showed that the care was still there, that their connection was stronger than ever, that no doubt could ever come between them and tear them apart. "Toemoss! You saved me! My life! It is yours! See, see? No cut! Because of you! You and your magic words! I love it! We have to go! Come, come, come!"

So quickly everything was washed over as both his hands took hold of his arms from behind, pushing him along, crushing the makeshift monocle in the process with a heavy crunch. "Our Juno needs us! Always! How is he ours without us! You are buying a cat thinking it is a bunny! You are speaking the non-words, Toemoss! The sense that's non! That is the French in you! Where is the Brazil! Take me in, Toemoss!" The tip of his tongue was bitten, out of sight for the one he was guiding along, stopping only at the window at the side of the house. The very one that would be the key to their entrance point. "Yes, yes, yes! The keys! Gone! Forever! I will pick you up! It is the only way! Step on me, Toemoss!"

[miguelcardosa]

caylabarker​:

Her resignation letter was the hardest thing Cayla had ever tried to write.

On one hand, there was a part of Cayla that wanted to hurt Miguel, and the keen narrative sense developed over the past year told her that this would be the perfect time to strike. The season finale, if you will.

Life wasn’t a TV show, though, of that Cayla had become keenly aware. Now, hours into trying to write this stupid letter, it had dawned on her that nothing she wrote would ever be able to reach him through the haze of drugs and stupidity. Why should it? Nothing, not her devotion or love, had before. It ached, knowing that he would accept her hatred with the same apathy he had accepted her affection.

There would be no sense in flinging insults that wouldn’t land, in the end. Although she doubted very much that Miguel would bother to report her, she couldn’t be sure if he even read his own e-mails since she’d stopped doing it for him. Nothing could jeopardize her job with the Cancellation department, not even her own futile revenge.

Begrudgingly, Cayla set about editing. Frowning down at her laptop screen, she mumbled, “How do you tell someone politely that they’d be lucky if they choked to death on their own vomit because you’re going to be their boss one day?”

It had been too quiet. Not his Cayla! This wasn't like her! Even on that day where she had trouble waking up, gargling little breaths still counted as noise. Obliviousness wouldn't have been so easy to soak into his veins if it wasn't the secret ingredient that laced his drugs, going hand-in-hand, creating the perfect storm of blissful ignorance and complete negligence. Miguel was the walking definition of it, even as he slipped into the room, shoes off at the threshold to poke around silently on the pads of his feet, assistant in his crosshairs until striking.

"Choke me!" he greeted, arms wrapped tightly around her from behind, chin pressed to her shoulder before face leaped up to kiss her temple. "It is very, very point! On the point! Yes, yes, yes," he went on, bits and pieces of her conversations filtering in, the tumblr posts he stole from her making their dent on his already impaled mind. "The death! Who is it for? Tell me, tell me! It is killing me, Cayla! You are giving me the death!"

Wide grin illuminated, eyes sparkling at her until shifting nosily to the screen, only one thing catching his eyes. "It is me! Miguel!" he beamed, tapping wildly at his e-mail in the To field as if he had been bestowed a great honor. "What are all the other words! Too much! All the letters! Read to me, my Cayla!"

[miguelcardosa]

tomas-visser​:

“What’s sticky– I can’t hear you either,” he pinched the bridge of his nose as he squeezed his eyes shut from the grinding pain of Miguel’s yelling and bass-y music. Quickly flailing at the hands that reached out for Tomas’ face, not wanting to fall into that whole thing again, instincts aware of what every encounter with Miguel had been nothing but misfortunes, also very uncomfortable with the way he spoke about his lips. Just.. get it over and done with. He could easily just walk away, easily just turn his back and leave as he did in the past, he didn’t even resolve that last parting between them.

He stared and blinked at Miguel dancing to his own music in his head, trying to hold a hand on Miguel’s chest to keep them at a distance. “Yes my help, wait- why is this a bad place– after Juno??” That had to be the triggering word that piqued his interest from the slew of words that spilled, nothing else mattered until Juno was brought into this. “I don’t even want to know what that means.. What are you trying to do here– is this another place of yours?” He wouldn’t put it out of the realm that Miguel would own more than one house.

Was this his place? The thought hadn't occurred to Miguel just yet, but what was a deed? Taxes? Utilities? All of which were not in his name but could have been! The same! "Yes, yes, yes! It is mine! It is the house of the day! The house of the Mondays! How did you know? You are a Sherlock, Toemoss! Where is your eye glass?! You need it! I have it!" All it took was for Miguel to dig through one of his pockets, nearly losing a small baggie in the process, to pull a pair of glasses out. Black-rimmed, circular lenses, engraved with the initials F.C.B. on one of the bows--the most expensive part of them to an overall cheap product. Much surprise! Their value was cut in half from his hands, snapping them in two to place one on Tomas and keeping the other, balancing it in place atop his eye like a deformed monocle.

"Juno!" he suddenly relapsed, a clap of the hands that sent the lens rolling off of his face and onto the driveway with a small crack. "You are the Scooby, Toemoss! We have to sniff the clues! They are all inside! Come, come, come! Our Juno! He needs you. The keys! They ran away! The window will be your friend! It loves you! It is waiting for you to come inside it!"

[miguelcardosa]

tomas-visser​:

Of course he was okay, he sounded more than okay, Tomas expression dripping with disappointment that he’d still believe Miguel when he called for help. He folded his arms, only taking a few steps forward with a curt nod to him, looking over the house they both stood before, “I already did, -you shouldn’t play that so loudly..” The obnoxious sound timing in his ears in a bad way that made his teeth grind. 

He was afraid that the neighbours would start to come out, or worse the house’s owner, was this considered trespassing? Maybe. Tomas gingerly took one step back again, to get away from private property and from Miguel’s embrace, “I’m only here because you said you needed help,” he prefixed the expectations Miguel might have considering their last encounter, “what’s wrong? Why are we here?”

"I cannot hear you! Your mouth! It is very, very soft! What is it saying, Toemoss? No, no, no! I can read! Write me your love notes, lips of Toemoss! The sticky notes!" Was the music loud enough to drown the chef out? No. Did it give him reason to put his hands on either side of his cheeks to deliver the threatened kiss? Yes, yes, yes! How was it his fault that the rock with little holes in it was playing the music? Forgot that he had paired to it many, many moons ago at a party he was most certainly not invited to, but how could that be? The mail! It hated him! It was not the hostess that did!

The step Tomas took was followed in on, making it invalid as soon as it happened, leaving Miguel's body to shimmy to the music that continued to play in the background until it finally ended with nothing else to take its place. Why would that stop his movements, though? When there was an endless playlist whirling in his mind? "I need the help! Yes, yes, yes! All the help! Your help! Toemoss! We are here! It is the bad place! There is a dungeon. Many whips. Much chains. I have seen it! They are after our Juno! One swallow does not make a summer! But you are here! I am here! We can do many swallows!"

[miguelcardosa]

tomas-visser​:

@miguelcardosa​ Tomas was done. He hasn’t seen Miguel since the last incident, a desperation for a promise that most certainly wouldn’t come to fruition. Only raising regret and shame and everything in between. He has actively avoided the writer, after everything that had imploded around the oblivious man, and especially now that things had calm down, everything was good between Juno and him. Perhaps it was wishful thinking that he thought he could avoided Miguel forever. The troubling text message seem to steer Tomas otherwise, as much as he was annoying, Tomas couldn’t find it in him to look away when the call for help came that he was dying or something. A quick word with Juno - he couldn’t keep anything from him ever again, promises made to just make sure death wasn’t a consequence on the table and he’ll turn back home. 

Wherever Miguel dropped his location pin, it wasn’t familiar, it wasn’t Miguel’s place but seem along the same vicinity, one of those fancy houses. “Miguel?” Tomas felt like biting back his tongue calling out to him, begrudgingly continuing, “you okay?”

Much time! Where has it all gone? Where has his Toemoss been hiding? There was only one way left to grab his attention and bring him forward, back into his life.

its me!!! Miguel!!! kkkk!! Come come or I will do the die!!!! :((((((

And the message was sent, pinged off of a satellite so far away to come back thousands of miles just to land into the chef's phone. Truly, a waste of modern-day communication. Somewhere in the distance, the scientist responsible regretted their life's work while Miguel's snapchat added a hand around his throat. He would show him the filter when he arrived. See, see Toemoss! It is the Choke Me Daddy snap snap! I love it! The thought bubbled away as soon as it arrived, rarely ever did one of them take root, thrown on the endless pile of dissolving neurons, resting peacefully in their escape from him.

Miguel?

The iPhone's speakers filled as much as the air as its little electronic lungs could, all expelled by Miguel's playlist that came with the borrowed device.

Won't you call out my name? "Call out my name, Toemoss!" Like a cockroach coming out of the woodwork, the last insect living as the bane of existence, he jumped out from the edge of the house as the song danced on. Call out my name, and I'll be on my way. "You called! I am here! You are here! I love it! It is fate! I have missed you and your beautiful face. Look at it! It is screaming to me, Toemoss! Kiss, kiss, kiss! Why is it so very, very lonely? Give me your face!"

[miguelcardosa]

tomas-visser‌:

Only mine, Tomas desperately clung onto the little words, hoping to find the truth in them, and then suddenly feeling the overwhelming selfish guilt for even thinking that, he can’t own Juno. “Yours..” it came off as a shaky sigh, all of him would belong to Juno, and Juno only - he could have all of him. But yet the lips that pressed onto his skin felt wrong, a cold shiver sending him writhing away from the affection by a degree, lolling his head away from him. He let go of the shirt when his hand was guided yet again, underneath what he just held onto. Going up, and up. Nails lightly raking skin trying to find something to grab onto before he slipped out of control, “no.. I can’t-” Tomas choked on his own words, in a literal sense with the numbness and a moral sense where none of this feels right. Is this Juno? If not where is he, weighing out which was better - fighting it or giving in to believe whatever being fed to him.

Miguel played by make-believe, an illusion of what commitment might look like swaying right beside him. It was in Tomas' words, the love he held for Juno shakily dispensed against the Brazilian. It was eaten up as if it was meant for him, the idealistic vision of love taken in like a plaything that'd eventually suffer at the hands of his wanderlust. A hand climbed up dampening flesh, numbing trails left behind by nails, only for the illusion to gain a hairline crack. "'No, no, you can, you can, you have to. For me,'" the adopted voice urged, followed by the weight of the top being taken off Miguel's shoulders, freeing him. It was enough to sever the ties of balance, slinking to the floor and pulling the chef to join him, arm around him to keep him close like an oversized teddy bear. "Fluffy Toemoss," he murmured lazily against the back of his neck.

[miguelcardosa]

tomas-visser‌:

That’s all he wanted, forgiveness. But deep down he knew he selfishly wanted more, he just didn’t deserve it. The way he acts, and overthinks and doubts, he could see the exhaustion in Juno’s face. He didn’t deserve more. But for now, he just desperately wanted to believe that forgiveness. He couldn’t exactly feel other starting to invade onto him, but he could feel the heaviness, the heat, it was uncomfortable. But somehow those words just keep trying to pull him in, pull him to say yes.

Just for me, a kiss Juno didn’t share with Miguel or with anyone else, Tomas almost wanted to believe it. Tomas wanted it. “my Juno..” he couldn’t stop the swelling desire with the tricks his mind was playing on him. He let the hand guide him to wherever, suddenly feeling a fabric to grab onto. He couldn’t find the energy to lift and simply tugged at it, trying to be obedient, trying to please, trying to make all of this end, “please–”

"'Only yours,'" the answer came out as a low purr, energy winding down, caressed by southern hospitality. Miguel's mind was cloaked by the ketamine's fog, almost believing in its own impression of Juno, to find himself slipping into the role too closely for reality to truly appreciate it. It all seemed right in a town built on make-believe. "'Mine.'" It could have been barely heard, muffled by the way the face tilted into Tomas' neck, kissing the crook of it where the shoulder began. Laziness in the movement of his lips, mouth open to just press against his skin, breathing while his hand helped guide Tomas' underneath the fabric. "'Take it off of me. You are making your Juno too hot,'" he went on, grinning against him as the feeling of fingertips were drawn up his chest.