Miguel Cardosa

A muse. A liar. A thief. An abuser of drugs, of people, of facts, and reality. A charming son of a bitch, whose mouth can outrun his conscience. It's him! It's Miguel! kkkk!

[miguelxcardosa]

ryder-ashtonf​:

"Yes no die for Poldark,” god he was getting a headache conversing with Miguel, watching him pull out some glasses that he probably stole from some poor soul. “Sure they are,” he muttered unamused. The report couldn’t even come until this was settled, so it was practically useless until they find Poldark. Ashton frowned at him and his antics, swatting away the grabby hands. “We literally can’t go grey even if I wanted to,” growing old and growing grey, what a privilege that would be. “I’m not bonding with him, sorry to burst your bubble, the DIA won’t approve of that, now just– where is he right now?”

"No gray? No, no, no! My eyes! They have seen it! Trust them, my pup pup. They see the truth!" The magnified pupils were drawn exactly opposite to Ash's, showing them off to him, as if brown irises could show a lying tinge to them upon closer inspection. The swatting of the hands was only a temporary game, one where Miguel thought the objective was to grab onto the hands that wanted him gone before giving a leap back, restoring a sense of personal space to be ruined all over again in due time. "The die-ay will say no?" he asked curiously with a pondering face slapped on him, hand holding to his chin with complete disregard for Ash's main concern. "Let me see, let me see! I need more eyes!" Another pair of glasses was taken out, this time a black rimmed set that looked remarkably like the other muse's, but that could not be the case! He found them hiding in a soldier's pocket, talking to a very, very short blonde girl! They were placed over the lenses that were already balanced on his nose, adding one more layer of fuzz to the mix. "Day-ah! You are here!" he greeted, as if the same man was the organization embodied, attempting to clasp his face but missing, having him clap instead. "Say yes to the sun boy! He is very, very lonely! I never see him smile! I hate it! Where did you take it? Give him the smile and I will give you the Poldark!"

[miguelxcardosa]

ryder-ashtonf​:

"Is there a receipt with that.” Ashton said it coldly, knowing nothing to would through to this idiot. He grimaced at the gross way Miguel was acting, leaning as far back as he could, “it’s just a fruit, you can find it at one of the tables- it doesn’t matter.” What matters is the result of suffering through Miguel Cardosa for one night, and Ashton was reaching his limit. “It’s him..” He wasn’t even sure how Poldark managed to con everyone into believing he was an impersonator. “Fuck, okay, so he didn’t die, he’s here, great. whoopee. And you’re saying someone’s after him.” He sighed pinching the bridge of his nose, hissing under his breath in a low voice, “sure you can write the report, but it’s far from over. I need to know who and why and stop it. Enough muses and artists have gone missing.”

With an attention span that flattered a gnat, there was no telling what Ashton meant when he mentioned strange things. A receipt! A fruit! Where could it all be from? What did it all mean? That was not for Miguel to know! As the younger muse spoke, leaning away, he chose to follow in. "No die! Much life! All the life!" he agreed, barely a part of the conversation, too preoccupied. His hand was slipping into the pocket that was staring at him, pulling out the glasses that had been tucked inside of it. "These are mine, my pup pup! The report! It cannot write without them! The words! They are coming!" he went on while they were put on, everything blurring in an instant in magnification. "I see, I see." Miguel's hands patted his face, feeling for his hair to take the strands individually. "You are turning gray, sun boy! Too much worry. I hate it! We will save the dead artist! No death for him! He will be the living artist when we are done! He will be ours! Our bond! It is in the report. The dee-uh will do the stamp stamp. All the yeses from them!"

[miguelxcardosa]

tomasdevisser​:

“Nothing exotic, Paris, now just leave it.” His voice shook slightly, wanting to simple forget it all, and here Miguel was dredging through the hurt for the giggles. He narrowed his gaze at the child on the floor causing more and more commotion amongst these higher upper class guest, some in disgust, some appreciating this new experimental performative art that must’ve been part of the gallery. “No, you really don’t,” he quickly closed the opening before Miguel had any ideas of coming in, washing his hands once more, “uh, I don’t know, someone over there?” He dried his hands and handed Miguel two plates of petits, pointing in whatever direction into the crowd, “some guy over there in a blue suit said he was hungry.”

"Oui, oui, oui! J'adore! C'est magnifique! Vous parlez le français, Toemoss! Tu es un amoureux! Je sais, je sais!" For something off about his words, the accent was oddly well-done. Years in and out of the Parisian scene allowed him to imitate it, something about it much desired by him until he had hit upon his Brazilian phase. It was like riding a bike, and then taking that bike and crashing it into a wall. Easy! The plates were taken, one for each palm, balanced with a little playful wobble in front of the chef with glee. "Beauty! Look at them! They are so very, very tiny! He needs more, Toemoss! You are being a hard bread with these funny baby cakes! Where is their mama?"

[miguelxcardosa]

ryder-ashtonf​:

"You? You’re basically washing sin with sin,” it’s as if you open up a dictionary definition of sin and Miguel’s face would be there. “The what? The fruit?” There was simply no way of decoding Miguel 90% I’d the times. Instead just making educated guesses, learning enough of his language to figure things out. And honestly when he thought i got it down, it gets weirder and weirder. “Hey-” he groaned at the actions invading his personal space again, having to remind himself that he was close with getting something, “my stars are not with you.” But finally something was coming, “Poldark? The impersonator or the real deal? He didn’t actually die, did he?” The DIA had their own suspicions.

"Yes, yes, yes! Me! It is the way! The only way! I am your favorite sin, my pup pup!" Of course he wasn't, but Miguel could not hear any other truth but his own. It did not matter what Ashton had to say on the matter, already dancing onto the next point of discussion with confusing questions! "What is the fruit? I do not understand the barks! Woof woof!" A tongue stuck out, long and just a hair away from lapping its intended target, purposely leaving the fellow muse unscathed this time. He was in one of his moods! He could have cut the tongue! So very, very sad! Miguel's eyes were closed, pretending to concentrate on his made-up visions, nothing but a game to play. "They are both! The darkest of poles! You see, sun boy! You see he is alive! A miracle! I love it. Did you know he did not do the die? I did! I will write the happy report. The dee-uh will be so very, very happy!"

[miguelxcardosa]

claudiamrshall​:

“i know you can’t stop.” the hate that seeps into her voice wells from somewhere so deep in her soul she’s convinced it’s part of what’s kept her so easily human after all this time. she can look at him, and still see red. “one day you’ll fuck up.” and she didn’t know that she would be the one to be there, but by some mercy he would finally stop torturing everyone. “it’s never been us.” the only thing he’s ever added to her life is injury, that some how they kept running into each other at the perfect moment for him to drive the knife in a little bit deeper and then run to the next person. “we’re not the same.” and they never would be. for the distinct reasoning that she still felt. still remembered why he tied her to the underworld and never let her change. “you can go on and be sad. i’m not changing.”

While Claudia was talking, Miguel's brain seemed to fizzle, changing stations mid-way as if his skull was configured the same way a television from the 60s was. A bunch of tubes, rabbit ears, reception always on the fuzzy side. Cool Girl was flicked on automatically, overlaying on top of the words that she spoke, eventually drowning her out while he was left swaying his head back and forth to the tune that only played for him. "I'mma cool girl, I'mmaI’mma cool girl, ice cold, I roll my eyes at you, boy.--This is you! You are the cool girl, pomegranate girl! So very, very cold. I am the boy! Your eyes! I see them roll! I feel it. Our song! How can we be wrong if the Tove Lo knows!"

[miguelxcardosa]

tomasdevisser​:

Tomas’ face scrunched in confusion as it usually would with Miguel. Not an angel to protect him, he could be certain about that. “No, it’s not– it’s no one here, in this country,” he hoped not, “so it doesn’t matter, just drop it.” His voice strained minutely to a frustration at feeling his heart clench in a pain he thought he long let go of, adding a simple plea remembering to be polite, “please.” He stared at the mess on the floor, contemplating his response to it and his first instinct was to mutter to himself, “sorry guess you’ll die here..” He turned around and went back to work but yet after a few minutes his own instinct wouldn’t let him stay there. Sighing he went forward grabbing onto an arm and pulled him up to his feet before quickly trying back away into his safe spot again, “there, now please, we got people to feed..”

"Exotic! Where are they from, Toemoss? Tell me, tell me! I am dropped! The floor! She is my favorite!" Whether Miguel was intentionally being difficult or that it came naturally to him from ignorance was anyone's guess; a compulsive liar never reveals his tricks. The mutter went unheard, leaving him to bide his time by doing the same movements a child would do with a sheet of snow, angels made from the swiping of arms and legs with no shame to the Muse. He was perfectly content to lounge where he laid, but found himself smiling up at the helping face that eventually came to his aid. "My life! It is yours! I owe you all of it," he broke in once again with his chin resting atop Tomas' shoulder before the chef swiftly took shelter at his station. "Who is mine to feed, my Toemoss?"

[miguelxcardosa]

ryder-ashtonf​:

"I’m not praying to you, shut up,” he’d pray to whatever forces of will that could rid Ashton of this man, muse, creature of torture, whatever. The only saving grace was whatever useful information that may leave Miguel’s mouth, to make up for this slightly painful interaction. Patience wearing thin as Miguel took his own sweet time, acting up his antics. He didn’t have time to fuck around if there was going to be an actual kidnapping or theft happening. This was a knowledge Ashton was privy to, they had records of Miguel’s artists but they change so much its hard to keep up, to even validate the truth in them. Ashton let out an exasperated sigh, “you hardly gave me anything useful, until you do, not breaking your arm is enough. If there’s nothing else, I’m gonna go.”

"My pup pup! Let me in! Let the power of Miguel come in you! I will wash away all the sin! All of them! Everywhere! There is no place they can hide from me!" Sparkling teeth never looked so blasphemous before, strong enough to bite into any forbidden fruit that laid nearby. Ashton seemed entirely unaffected, not swayed in the slightest, a threat to leave him making the smile fall to a pout, still playful in nature. "You are crying the pitangas," Miguel cooed, telling Ashton in his own way that he was simply whining about not receiving anything of use. "I know, I know! I have thought, my pup pup! Many, many thoughts! Too much! Help me see the visions! Your stars! They want to talk to you, sun boy! You never call!" Hands flew to Ashton's temples, thumbs stretching out to close his eyes along with his own, that winding grin returning. "Yes, yes, yes! I see, I see. Mmm! It is the dead artist! I love it. Look at his pretty face. They will take the dead artist! I hate it!"

[miguelxcardosa]

tomasdevisser​:

Tomas actually paused to turn back around as Miguel fell onto the ground, people staring at the embarrassing ruckus, and he had the restraint his instinct to go back and help him up, knowing if he did, he’d get sucked back into that mess. “It’s not your concern who hurt me,” the hurt flashed across his eyes but he swung around towards the table, his staff glanced sympathetically at him but knew better than to fan the flames. Worse having some of his staff from Paris that knew what happened. “I’m not on the menu.. sorry,” he sighed as he dried his hands, the sight Miguel was making was ridiculous, laughable, he’d be amused if he wasn’t at the receiving end of it. “Can you.. get up? –please? People are staring..”

Miguel's lips parted, a gaping mouth that almost looked aghast at the implication that Tomas did not concern him. Toemoss De Virgin mattered very, very much! "No, no, no! It is me! Miguel! An angel! Your angel! I am sent here to protect my Toemoss! Tell me, tell me. It will be our secret! Was it my pup pup? He did not mean it! He is all bite no bark!" He grinned in his usual cheery way, the phrase butchered and yet fitting by coincidence; he had the straining feeling to his shoulder to prove it, and the pain only produced a desire for more. By the time the chef's question had landed in his brain enough to process it, the Muse had wiggled against the floor absentmindedly as if staying still was a herculean task. His barefeet smacked against each other one final time from the twisting of his ankles. "I have fallen for you, Toemoss! I cannot get up! It is all your fault! You will have to help me or I will die here!" he informed as he wiggled his toes at him.

[miguelxcardosa]

ryder-ashtonf​:

"Yes you can. If not, cry somewhere else,” Miguel’s exaggerated declarations wear off really quickly after awhile, this time simply shrugging over his shoulder like dropping a wet sponge on him - a little gross and inconvenient, But ultimately harmless. The stress and frustration was getting to him, only feeling the creases when it was tapped upon, trying to swat it away. Until Miguel continued did he growl, “stop.” He wiped off the spit over his sleeve, grimacing trying to think how much more he’d tolerate. Case in point as he listened on for Miguel to give him bullshit. “Miguel I swear to fucking god.” Playing this game with him was always a gamble, a waste of time or a nugget of gold. “Already yours.. which artist? Someone you bonded to this time?”

"Grrrr," Miguel mimicked the tone before his tongue stuck out at the corner of his mouth, bitten by his own teeth. There was nothing innocent about him, but somehow the antics were absurd enough to never come close to maliciousness. From the way his head tilted back and forth like a King Cobra to the way his eyes glimmered with amusement, though, there wasn't an ounce of him that should have been trusted. "You are praying! I love it! I will answer all of them! All of the fucking for you!" he teased, a face ripe for a good punch after the hands could part from any prayer Miguel had left to his name. The expression soon shifted to one of contemplation, mulling over the words that were brought back to him before his own palms were pressed together, folded knuckles under his chin as he considered the idea that he knew the thief as one of his own. How did the pup pup know what Miguel did not! "Mmm! Yes! Yes, yes, yes. My artist!" he lied with another smile. "The bond! It is too strong! I can feel them! Their thoughts! They are all mine! It is how I know! I am giving so very, very much to you! What will you give me to say thank you?"

[miguelxcardosa]

claudiamrshall​:

“fucking stop—” she did want to rip his heart out. given half as many people, and a sure fire promise that it would be enough to kill him she might have done it too. payment for at least one slight. instead she settled for ripping her hand out of his grasp. retracting back into her personal space. he always wanted people desperately close, skin to skin, even if it was a hit. her only defense was the opposite. “i don’t know anyone here.” a lie, so obvious in structure that she would have to be called on it had the recipient been anyone else. “why don’t you go make a new friend. introduce me later.”

Her hand was wrenched out of his, leaving only the memory of her touch behind on his chest. The feeling in combination to the anger kindling in her eyes was enough to make him laugh again, always so tickled by her actions. "I cannot stop! Never! Go, go, go! Always! Always for you, pomegranate girl! You keep me up day and night." A lie for a lie, hers coming to him in equal blatancy; the only difference came in the delivery. Miguel was all smiles, ignorant to how much she wanted to strike him on the spot. "Me! You know me! I know you! No one knows you like I do, pomegranate girl. It is always you and me! Forever!” he reminded with glee and unknown threat alike as he slipped to her side, side of his arm brushing her shoulder. “I would die without you! My soul would be so very, very sad. Yours and mine are one! We are the same!”

[miguelxcardosa]

ryder-ashtonf​:

"Not with me, enjoy the night somewhere else,” Ashton sighed, contemplating how much he should be humouring Miguel, and how much he could afford to lose by lit breaking his arm out in the open at the fancy party. “I don’t know, I’m sure there’s like, chocolate pudding at the dessert table. You could go get some.” Maybe that’ll be enough of a distraction away. His unamused frown only deepened the moment it was mentioned, “why do you think I’m bolado.” But yet again, just as Ashton was on his last thread, Miguel delivered. Or as much as Miguel could deliver. “A thief? Solo job or a group heist?” That much he knew, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious to know what Miguel might know. “Do you know what’s being stolen?”

"Only with you! I cannot enjoy anything without you! You will make me cry!" he pouted, lower lip puffed out while the sparkle in the eyes retained itself, slowly breaking back into the mouth with a winding grin. "You are bolado! You are, you are! I see it! Right here!" Miguel's fingertip began tapping at Ashton's forehead, the skin between the brows that so often had been the target of a headshot, now was being treated as though it was the window to a new toy store, grubby-pawed toddler seeing its first plaything with desire in their heart. The same finger dug further in, attempting to smooth the lines that had formed before Miguel withdrew only to lick the tip to his own skin, then drawing it back over the forehead as if that would do a better trick. "Yes, yes, yes! I know what is going to be taken," he answered, beaming before shifting closer, cupping his ear to start the reveal of a secret too big for the walls to overhear. The Muse was drawn in, lips barely a hair away from the lobe before he spoke. "It is your heart! I am here to take it!" Miguel's teeth chomped forward for only the hearing to absorb, capturing nothing and producing a gleaming grin before he could laugh. "No, no, no! I cannot steal, my pup pup! It is mine already! It is a person! A very, very special person! Guess, guess, guess!"

[miguelxcardosa]

tomasdevisser​:

“I won’t be drowning any goose..” this is the point where nothing made any sense anymore. Tomas nervously glanced around at a few of the lingering glances that were drawn by the commotion Miguel was creating. He hated the attention, quickly trying to smile to diffuse the situation while his voice was low and warned, “no one, I’m not going to tell you.” No one needed to hear about his lost love and everything that he probably did wrong but even then, it never really caused him to be the way he is. Perhaps it broke because he’s the way he is. “I don’t need to be fixed,” Tomas reiterated, he had to believe his sexuality wasn’t a problem, finding relief and solace as he closed in the gap towards the table and went around behind it, washing his hands before anything else, “please stay out of the staff area, and pick a dessert if you want..”

Tomas had wriggled free from Miguel's hold, flinging all of his body weight around him to try to get to his pants, only to fall to the ground the moment his support was gone. He laid there, back against the floor, arms flying up like a heartbroken cockroach. "My Toemoss! I hate it! Who is this head of a catfish? Tell me, tell me! Do not leave me to find them! Who has hurt you! I will find them! They will pay the duck!" His head flung to the side, looking over at him with black curls acting like a pillow, hands opening and closing in the air as if beckoning him to come back to him. "I pick you, Toemoss! Be my dessert! Feed me! I will make all this pain go away! I promise! My heart is crossed and death has hope!"

[miguelxcardosa]

magnus-servus​:

Magnus’s eyes went wide. “No. There is no way that we were ever involved. I would have remembered someone of your…. personality.” He wasn’t sure though. He had some dark times with some festive people. But he was certain he’d remember someone with Miguel’s demeanor. Even in his younger years he would have been offput but how up front Miguel was. But maybe under a full moon while under Bacchus’s blessing, perhaps there might have been a situation where he would have been in a similar crowd as Miguel if he also worshipped Bacchus, but he wasn’t sure how they would have been intimate.

"You do, you do! I can tell, my trojan! I feel it! Feel me, feel you!" Miguel's hands went to either side of Magnus' cheeks as his forehead stay connected to his, eyes staring deeply into the other's as if it would only be a matter of time before telepathy would kick in. "The drinks! They robbed you! I know, I know! I am buried deep inside of you. Then and now! Always and forever!" He grinned, lips brushing over his intentionally before going on. "There is a spot on your thigh! Let me see, let me see! You have to prove it is you! I do not remember now! I need the proof!" he teased before his tongue flew to the corner of his mouth.

[miguelxcardosa]

ryder-ashtonf‌:

"No.” Ashton ended it there and then with a deadpan expression in comparison to Miguel’s cartoony ones. He’ll have Miguel right here have a broken arm that is. Ashton had to resist but his tolerance for his shenanigans is only that much. “Don’t eat some devil bread, that’s a bad idea,” or maybe do. Ashton wanted to push Miguel off of him before he dare kiss him anywhere else but he seemed happy enough to bounce around in and out of his personal space. He finally shoved him painfully away in a frustrated huff, “whatever pudding you have, I’m not sitting on it, look, why not you just.. go enjoy the night or something.”

The result of Ashton shoving Miguel away could only last so long, pushed back for a moment before his hands flew in the air, laughing. The sound of his hands clapping above his head tangled in that same laugh, a barking kind that degenerated into the normal hiss that curled behind the teeth. "I am, I am! I have all the joy! Here! With you! I love it. What pudding is there! Tell me, tell me. What do you think, my pup pup?" They were his own words being flung back at him, and yet the translation was still lost, the attention disorder rearing its head and colliding with his unchecked flirtations. "Don't be bolado! I hate it! Your lips! Look at them be sad! No, no, no!" he pouted before gradually regaining that grin, swaying his body closer again. "I have a secret. You will be so very, very happy. Your lips! They will stop crying!" Inching closer, palms up teasingly, he moved to the side of his face, tipping up to his ear. "There is a thief. Hiding! Sneaky, sneaky. They are the saint of the hollow wood!"

[miguelxcardosa]

tomasdevisser‌:

He tried to squirm away from the hold, his face flushing even more the moment it was brought up, “I won’t explode I-” then Tomas felt the wet tongue on his skin which was absolutely too, close. He staggered backwards almost bumping into others, people and art, he felt the gross shiver down his spine, feeling violated of some sort, yet nobody seemed to notice nor care. “Okay/ I’m sorry I have to… go back to work..” Tomas already started to make his way to the dessert table, hoping to seek refuge there. “I don’t like anything, does that make sense?”

"No, no, no! You are taking my heart with you, Toemoss!" he whined as his body became limp, clinging to the chef with his arms wrapped around his waist. His chin slapped against the ribcage, looking up at him with a wide grin, eyes glinting curiously. "You do not like to drown the goose?" he asked, an idea that did not compute, reflecting in his irises as if the very words Tomas spoke washed over him but not a single one of them was absorbed. "My Toemoss! Who ate you so very, very badly? I hate it! I will fix you! I know it! Come, come, come. No, no! I will come to you," he teased with a hissing laugh behind his teeth, body sinking down.

[miguelxcardosa]

elliot-rothschild‌:

It was almost instantaneous - he approached, too near for comfort, presence and scent overwhelming, a gleam in his eye as his hand slipped into the confines of Elliot’s pocket. Elliot jerked back, his hand reaching out to grasp the other man’s wrist, squeezing it painfully in warning. 

His whole body was tense, his gaze as sharp as his tone as he bit off. “I’d like for you to get your hands off me, right now.” He felt more than he saw Mac there, his body poised, ready for the take-down. “Trust me, you don’t want to wait until Mac loses his patience over there.” He jerked his head over to his bodyguard, his voice rock steady. 

Miguel's tongue peeked out from between his teeth, a sound like a snake spilling forth from an illuminated face as the pain trickled in. His body swayed in response, the type of movement one gets when listening to nostalgic music in an empty living room, the comfort of it all, being washed up in a feeling that he wanted more and more of. "No hands, no hands, child of Roths!" he played as his palms raised as best they could, even with one being confined by Elliot, before his lips moved closer. "Your hand! Look, look. It is keeping us together! Very bad. It loves me. I love it," he went on before dipping his head down, pecking a quick kiss to the knuckles before his postured bounced back, standing upright before a single thing could be done. "He is a filet! I love him. I want him! I want you! Give me both. I cannot choose!"

[miguelxcardosa]

emme-fitzgerald‌:

Her first instinct was to rear back, snarl, how dare he even try to touch her, eyes flashing and teeth bared, a dark anger coiling up inside of her. Yet no flicker of such emotions showed on her face, Emme’s expression perfectly, undeniably pleasant. Dangerously so.

“Well, of course, I must pay you in return.” Emme’s tone remained even, her smile polite, even as her fingers clutched at her purse which felt decidedly lighter than it did earlier. Yet any accusations might only chase him away. “And I thank you kindly for the compliment.” Her throat practically burned from the words she was uttering, but she managed to keep her manner light, a touch charming. “My name is Emme Fitzgerald, as that identification card you’re…holding suggests. I take it you’re…Cardosa?”

Her I.D. was threaded through his fingers, seesawing in between each digit like a trained act at a party, done so without even a single glance. All his attention was on her, eyes never once leaving her with their entertained glint spiking them. Every word she dropped only fed him, stuffing him fully when the last one was uttered.

"My name! You know it!" he beamed, already brushing past the knowledge that he was the one to give it to her. It had nothing to do with it. It was a sign from above. A blessing. "What does it taste like? Let me taste it! It sounds so very, very good from you," he went on without missing a beat, leaning in closer. "It is my pay! One kiss, Cardosa girl. One kiss and I will be yours forever! We are the fairy tale! Happy ending only!"