#miguel tbt

[ducktales-wco-oo]

“I dunno, Marq… as much as I really do wanna be your bodyguard, I don’t wanna ask you to buy me a whole outfit for it. This shit is expensive. Also, I’m pretty sure this suit is too small.” Miguel steps out of the dressing room, a nervous, almost apologetic grin on his face.

“What do you think?”

-   ✩   「   @peachpitocs  」   ✩

「 ☆ 」    ❝  Marquel.  ❞  He corrects, tone not holding as much bite as it would if Marquel were informing anyone else about what he prefers to be called. More quickly firm— feathers ruffling a bit to make it clear it WON’T be happening again —before plumage settles and he slips back into an appreciative smile at the sight before him. Miguel didn’t mean anything by it. How could he know about the hang-ups that Marquel has about shortening his name, or the sense of interchangeability it makes him feel. Foolish as he knows it is, considering how vastly different he and his similarly-named brothers are. But with a mother that can’t even be bothered to call him by his correct name, let alone remember that it’s even in the mix, it’s no wonder he’s protective of one of the few things that makes him FEEL different.

Marcus... Marius... and Marquel.

One of those things is not like the other.

❝  Aaaaaaaaanyways—  ❞  He drawls with a laugh, a finger pressed into his cheek as he coyly tilts his head,  ❝  Who said you’re asking me to do anything? I’m offering to buy you some dope-ass threads, because I like you and I want to.  ❞  Fluttering long lashes through impishly lidded eyes, he saunters forward, steps slow and measured as he approaches the adorably apologetic man,  ❝  And because my bodyguard needs to look just as good as I do... Or at least, close~  ❞  He teases, circling around Miguel as if he were a predator sizing up a choice cut of meat. 

❝  As for what I think... I think—  ❞  Dragging a finger along Miguel’s shoulders as he passes behind him, grazing the feathers on the back of the larger man’s neck, he hums at the way the tight fabric clings to his soon-to-be-bodyguard. Miguel wasn’t kidding when he said it was too small. Brow quirked, he halts in front of Miguel, snickering as he walks two fingers up Miguel’s chest,   ❝  —you’re right. This suit is way too small. I’m pretty sure if you tried to kick someone’s ass, it’d rip right off of ya. So, yeah... Not great for a bodyguard.  ❞  

Smirk gaining a bit of mischief to match the glitter in his eyes, Marquel abruptly pushes Miguel back into the dressing room, the door shutting behind them. Marquel never has been one for sharing what he’s deemed his and should Miguel agree to his request, he’s not about to let the rest of the high-end store be witness to it. Resting his back against the door— as if his lithe form could ever successfully block anything —Marquel tilts his head and playfully asks,  ❝  What d’ya wanna bet it just- rips right off when you flex?  ❞  

From the look on Marquel’s face, he wouldn’t be upset by that AT ALL.   「 ☆ 」 

[neonwebs]

"Of course, all the turtles are great, but obviously Raphael is the best."

[spidxrguin]

WHICH TRAGIC CHARACTER FROM ANCIENT GREEK LITERATURE ARE YOU?

cassandra

you are cassandra from the trojan women by euripides and agamemnon by aeschylus. people have tried to silence you one too many times, but you are resilient. your own dignity and agency have always come first, but at a great cost. you know yourself and your inner strength, but that won't ever stop you from feeling completely alone in the world. sometimes simply enduring the pain won't be enough, no matter how hard you want it to be. above all, you must never lose your unwavering hope in mankind, even as the world forsakes you. it is what keeps you human.

[bloggossipboy]

#Tbt Diego Miguel by Jeff Segenreich 

#TBT: Atualizando nossa tag #tbt vamos voltar para Março de 2020 com o modelo Diego Miguel pelas lentes de Jeff Segenreich para a revista digital Victor Magazine. Fotos: models.com ● Siga o GB nas redes sociais: ●● Facebook Page | Twitter | Tumblr | Pinterest | Instagram ●●

[taughtdefense-a]

A conversation between @taughtranquility / @recurrere / Miguel Diaz, & Ethan Wilson, circa 4x05. This is canon for Ethan & my Miguel. Just imagine Miguel is sitting next to Ethan instead of Jeremiah, & Ethan instead of Johnny. Nadia & myself may reblog. This is part one. | Part two is here.

Miguel sits down next to Ethan, looking at the taller boy in concern. Ethan has his earplugs in his ears, but his sunglasses are off for the moment. The case is sitting on the ground next to him. They're both sitting outside of Miguel's apartment, with their backs pressed against the wall next to the Diaz's apartment door. After causing two incidences, Ethan had abruptly abandoned Miyagi-Do practice early in a hurry. Miguel took it upon himself to go after his best friend, to make sure he was okay. It's something Ethan silently appreciates. He'd have done the same for Miguel, or Icarus, or Hawk.

"Hey, Eth."

Ethan doesn't mind the nickname; Miguel is one of the people who can use it whenever he wants. Emma, Talia, Hawk, Charlie & Sam are the others. His parents, too, obviously. Ethan even gave Robby permission to use the nickname, too. Ethan has no interest in being within a ten mile radius of his ex-best friend anymore.

"...Hey." Is what Ethan mumbles instead. His voice is weak.

"Are you okay?"

The brunet scoffs lightly, crossing his arms over his chest. Like a light switch, his look of guilt is replaced with frustration. "Christ." He grumbles in exasperation, dragging a hand down his face. "Everyone keeps asking me that. I’m okay. Really."

"You don’t have to do that, dude." Miguel begins quietly.

"Do what?" Ethan responds, keeping his tone flat, pretending like he doesn't know what Miguel is referring to. He's not stupid. Miguel knows he isn't. Still, though, the other boy sighs softly. This version of Ethan isn't the same one Miguel knows like the back of his hand. Understandably, he's concerned. Sometimes, he wishes his best friend didn't close himself off, like he's doing right now. Distance himself emotionally. It's something Miguel noticed he's been doing a lot, lately. It's some type of defense mechanism.

"Lie to me, so I don’t have to worry about you. You lashed out at Sensei LaRusso, dude. You hurt Icarus during sparring, too. Even though neither of those things are something you’d ever do if you weren’t hurting. I'm just... All of us are worried about you."

"I’ll apologize to both of them later." He laughs weakly, pushing a hand through his hair. The laugh sounds more like a sob. Miguel's heart breaks in his chest. He didn't realize how badly Ethan was hurting until this very second. He had a feeling that it was bad, but he didn't understand. It makes him angry. Angry at Robby, angry at Cobra Kai, & Kreese, & that new Sensei, Terry Silver. "I didn’t mean to hurt Icarus." Ethan whispers, his voice so small and so unlike him. It makes Miguel want to hug him. "I just seem to keep fucking up."

Ethan sighs heavily, looking away from Miguel. His shoulders tremble with a sob he forces back. Miguel flinches. "I hate myself for getting so attached to people so quickly. I fucking hate the karate war. It’s only making everything worse."

"Icarus will be fine." He responds gently, placing a hand on Ethan's shoulder. Ethan still doesn't look at Miguel. "He’s tough. Emma & Charlie already forgave you for accidentally hurting their husband, I just know it. I'm sure he did, too. And you’re hurting. It’s normal for someone to lash out like that when they’re hurting. ...Robby hurt you by joining Cobra Kai, didn't he?"

Ethan's next exhale dies somewhere in his chest, & he still refuses to make eye contact with Miguel, who doesn't look away from him. It looks like Ethan's been sucker-punched in the gut. He reaches up to fiddle absentmindedly with the earplugs in his ears. Miguel knows that that's a nervous habit. "...Yeah. I told him I was in his corner, and… and then he just spits in my face. Like that didn’t mean anything to him. Like… I don’t know. Like I... like I don’t mean anything to him." There are tears in Ethan’s eyes. He doesn’t blink them away. "…I fucking hate him."

Oh. ...Oh.

Miguel doesn't look away from Ethan, simply absorbing his words. As soon as he says he hates Robby, it seems like something clicks in his head - like a missing puzzle piece finally found its home. Ethan doesn't want to read his mind, fearing that the truth will crush him, so he doesn't. He gently bumps Ethan’s shoulder with his arm. The other boy doesn't look over at him, but he does blink rapidly, trying to make the tears go away by sheer force of will. It doesn't work. A few tears slip down Ethan's face. He makes no move to wipe them away.

"I don’t think you really mean that." Miguel murmurs, keeping his tone as soothing as he can manage. "And I don’t think Robby's fully himself, anymore. It’s something Cobra Kai does. It turns you into some dark, empty version of yourself. Look at what I did to Robby during the first All Valley. During the school fight, too." Ethan sighs softly, grimacing. He remembers both incidents vividly. Sometimes he wishes he didn't. Miguel still feels so incredibly guilty over that. "If I could take everything back, I would. I know that he & I haven’t ever seen eye to eye with each other, but… you can’t give up on him. I won't let you."

[felinoir-a]

cudi: it’s a right of passage for spiders to be slapped around by the cat

me: can you even be a spider if you don’t have the claw marks to prove it?

[decimatlas]

‘ what’s the point of planning? we’re doomed, anyways. ’ ( julia to miguel/spiderman LOL)

❛ You’re dooming us already, huh? ❜ Miguel places the streamers down for a moment, fleeting question of how the hell he got roped into this entering his mind. The answer, of course, is standing right in front of him. He’s almost entirely sure Julia could ask him to do anything, and he’d comply at the drop of a hat. It’s a funny thing — he possesses power far beyond human understanding, yet… well, she is far more powerful than him, no? She must be. After all, she has him hanging streamers in a gymnasium on a Saturday afternoon. ❛ We still have… ❜ A quick glance at the clock. ❛ Two hours. Maybe some other parents will show. ❜ Though, in all honesty? It’s looking grim.

[igglemouse]

Song of the Day! #TBT

Oh! A song I'm sure everyone has heard!

No Frida tomorrow! Like I mentioned was a little sick so it was a pause but hopefully I'll start posting episode 6 this weekend!

Art distills sensations and embodies it with enhanced meaning. ~ Miguel de Unamuno

[my-burnt-city]

Tbt(ish) to Thursday 5th June 2014. The time is some time in the evening, the place is Temple Studios, and I'm starting off with a very chaotic Grocer loop courtesy of Conor Doyle.....

The line on the cast board that would ordinarily say who we might have playing the Grocer tonight is curiously blank. I have a theory, so once I am inside, I head straight for the grocery store, where my suspicions are confirmed - Grocer Doyle.

Conor Grocer is EXCELLENT. His interaction with Romola - "we're the same, you and I" curiously loaded with a whole bunch of meaning - followed by his orange-eating - OH MY GOODNESS HIS ORANGE-EATING, NO ONE EATS ORANGES LIKE THAT, CONOR. Practising his lines furiously for his Drugstore Girl interaction and eating his orange even more furiously. From the background music, there's no way in hell this lasted any less than at least 8 minutes. That's a PRETTY LONG time to be watching an adult man demolish citrus like an overgrown 5 year old.

Drugstore. Opening doors with wrists because sticky orange fingers. Napkins. Grocery store. Hand-cleaning. Orange peel disposing. Script-page hiding. Drugstore Girl. Lemonade. As the Drugstore Girl leaves, he takes a large sip of lemonade and then instantly, without even appearing to consider it, he opens his mouth and lets the whole lot tumble straight back into the glass. Now, I feel like there's usually a 1:1 at this point, but Conor seems to 1:1 out of the normal order. I guess he just polishes tins of peas until it is time for the hoedown. It's the sort of thing he'd do (not least because it is in The Script). And then it is off to the hoedown, picking up a waistcoat and cowboy hat on the way through the saddlery. I watch Eugene dancing with the Barman and trying to hassle the Drugstore Girl. However, the lights are right in my face so when we get to the fight, I realise he's already gone and I didn't even see him leave. I follow the Drugstore Girl through the saddlery - she drifts back to the drugstore without the usual interaction, I drift back to the grocery store, and there's Eugene. When I originally arrived in the grocery store, there was already an audience member in place, and that's who is now taken off for the 1:1. And so I drift over to the window to watch Miguel and Faye dance until they emerge.

And then, where other Grocers have gone to the drugstore to act out the strange scene with the Drugstore Girl until she collapses in the phone booth, Conor decides it's time for another 1:1, and this time it's my turn. And so in we go, where everything proceeds precisely as it had the time I was taken into the back room by a previous Grocer, until we get to page 2 of the script and now Eugene is telling me the story not of how Eugene Green dreamed of being a star but of how the little boy was all alone and the world was a lump of rotten wood. I am terribly aware that he is extremely sad and on the verge of tears the whole time. Thankfully we get to the sad hug before it gets *too* much to bear, but still!

And now the 1:1 is over and Eugene is changing back into his Eugene outfit (which he basically had on under his Grocer outfit), and off we go through the studio gates. We move through the secretary's office, where Alice is already firmly in place, and he leaves his script on the desk behind her as he slips through to the corridor. Although this seems like a very sensible thing to have done, I really don't recall ever having seen it happen before!

AND THEN. STAIRS. Reaching his arms forward to clutch the bannisters, swinging his feet down several steps all at once, repeating until reaching the turn in the staircase, revolving 180°, hopping to the side until he is facing the next set of stairs, and then repeating, ALL THE WAY down to studio 2. Of all the magical and beautiful and devastating and shocking and wonderful and horrible and terrifying and incredible things I've seen in this building over the months, I am filled with an awesome fear that this, long term, might be the only thing I end up remembering. And you know what? I'm not entirely not okay with that.

We head to the birthday tent, where Eugene manages to remove his clothes without too much drama. He then takes the red sparkly dress and puts it on. This appears to be going relatively according to plan, until he starts to stuff a scarf in his chest for padding and realises there's something missing. (It is impossible to tell if this is something that Conor or Eugene has forgotten.) He takes the dress off, puts the bra on (properly, mind!), then puts the dress back on, and starts stuffing effectively this time. He then lies on his back across the table, seizes his own feet at terrifically uncomfortable-looking angles, and slips his be-socked feet into the Dolores shoes.

The others arrive for the party. Carl Harrison Frankie, who has a terrific hyena laugh, mocks Eugene's tiny cake mercilessly, and the party happens as the party happens. The whole time, I am very aware that I have also seen Conor play Frankie more than once, and I do come to realise that once Frankie's been through the studio a little more, he'll end up in the same position Eugene is in now. That knowledge still doesn't make me feel particularly empathetic towards him, as he continues to be rude to Eugene pretty much every time he opens his mouth.

Anyway! The party draws to its ignoble close, and then Alice is there and the casting offer for the Grocer happens. Then Eugene and his faithful followers head off across studio 2 back towards the staircase when suddenly, my eye is caught:

THE DOOR TO STUDIO 8 IS WIDE FUCKING OPEN.

And I know how this works, I know in my head that this is a Fool trap and not an opportunity for extended rummaging, but in the moment my heart just wants to look inside the room and do said rummaging, so without even thinking about it, I abandon Eugene, head in, and go straight to the desk. The first thing I find is a letter, infuriatingly at page 4. I'm turning the pages, trying to find the first page so I know who it's to or the last page so I know who it's from, and I'm aware there's another audience member in the room too, and then I'm still page-turning but I'm also aware the other audience member has just been sent out by a Greig Cooke Fool, who is looking extremely clown-like and locking the door firmly. It turns out being locked unexpectedly in a room with a clown is quite alarming, even if it's only half-unexpectedly and even if it's not like it's a clown I've never met before. He sends me through the curtain and encourages me to sit on the bed, so far so familiar. He then gently pushes me down so I'm lying on the bed and offers me the white woolly horse to cuddle. He then gets extremely close to me as he starts stroking my face and hair and telling me the grandmother's story and I start getting FEROCIOUS deja vu. Then he finds the white string (wool), which is even more awkward when you're lying down than when you're sitting up, and he takes the little horse away from me and we follow the string through the door.

We start the journey down to the basement hand-in-hand which is a nice start, but I guess I give off an aura or something because we're about halfway down the ramp when suddenly I am firmly embraced and we continue all the way down until we reach the horse. When we turn around, we're RIGHT NEXT to it, which does somehow make me jump, but we don't start running yet, we simply move away from its prone body and look around the darkness as suddenly Stanford's voice echoes out unexpectedly in the distance, reciting the gypsy boy bit. This is terrifying, and now we're running frantically back up the ramp to the trailer. I have my mask returned to me, and I'm sent out into the night again. This is the only time I see the Fool all night; due to sitting awkwardly on the steps of studio 2, I won't even see him at the finale later.

This has been quite the start to the evening, and I now need to take a little time to pull myself together before deciding where to go next...

[sopalgbtqia]

#tbt Para olhar pelo retrovisor interno. Lembrar e agradecer ao pequeno Miguel. Se esse garoto não tivesse aguentado firme tudo o que lhe caiu em cima, eu não estaria aqui com vocês.

Se hoje eu caminho de cabeça erguida, foi por ele ter sobrevivido. Um menino que ouviu de todo lado que ser gay era ser a maior desonra, o maior pecado, o maior dos erros, a ser corrigido até com a morte.

Passou toda a infância a ver somente pessoas lgbtqia+ sendo representadas como ridículas, doentes, predadoras, taradas. Nas conversas, na mídia, nos dedos apontados, ele se notava como aberração.

Miguelito se negou e se odiou. Se armarizou.

De início nem se compreendia. Criado para ser o que não era. O inconcebível. Ser o que ele já era e sempre foi agredia as expectativas que lhes foram depositadas. Os monstros eram os outros.

Como em toda casa, a dele era a da sagrada família de bem, puro-sangue heterossexual, onde mácula era inadmissível até em pensamento.

Mas com as pedradas diárias de ofensas indiretas, fiscalizações constantes, cobranças de comportamento, molduras impostas, olhares desconfiados e fulminantes, meu pequeno x-man engrossou o couro. Esmagado nas entranhas, criou proteções e camuflagens possíveis para a trajetória.

Se faltasse a ele tanto talento mutante, aqui talvez eu faltasse. Eu perduro porque ele, lá atrás, sem nem um milionésimo do que sei hoje, do que sou hoje, persistiu. Suportou. Vingou.

Se ainda insisto em repassar confiança e consciência, com alma colorida, desenvolvi a coragem com ele, que ainda na inocência de se perceber no exato, sabia que o tiro era no alvo tatuado no próprio corpo. E seguiu mesmo assim, driblando os gigantes, sorrindo e cantando na avalanche.

Valeu, meu pirraia. Esse viajante do futuro te deixa esse bilhete dentro de um gibi ao lado da tua cama. Tu és muito marvel.

#orgulholgbt #orgulholgbtqia #pridelgbtqia #junho #gaypride #orgulhogay #orgulho #pride #pride🌈 #pridemonth #lgbtpride #lgbtcommunity

[elrincondenorbert]

Probando coche 🤣🤣 #tbt #tenerife #tenerifeisland #canaryislands #islascanarias #canarias #canariasviva #canariasgrafias #canarias_life #canariashoy #tenerifelicidad #instatenerife #instacanarias #instalagomera #latituddevida #soyyo #norbert (en Castillo San Miguel) https://www.instagram.com/p/Coc-fkDLnZV/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[neonwebs]

"I'm tired of my disappointment not being taken seriously. From now on, I'm just gonna start booing people. I'm gonna start throwing tomatoes. I think it'll have greater impact."

[dirtygaga]

Daydreaming about these days☁️✨, take me back to San Miggie🍸🎉. ---------------------------------------------------------- #SanMiguelDeAllende #Queretaro #Cousins #Friends #TBT #Archive #TakeMeBack (at San Miguel Allende) https://www.instagram.com/p/CnVkMgQrYDR/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[menschpeter]

«El alma es un manantial que solo se revela en lágrimas.» "The soul is a spring that is only revealed in tears." -Miguel de Unamuno, "Niebla" 🦉 . . . . . . . . . . #portraitpainting #oilpaint #oilpainting #oilpainter #oilpaintings #oilpaints #oilportrait #oilonlinen #contemporaryart #oilpaintingart #tbt #contemporaryartist #contemporarypainting #contemporarypainter #contemporarypaintings #contemporary_art #contemporarypainters #contemporaryfigurativeart #contemporaryoilpainting #artgallery #figurativeart #figurativepainting #figurativeoilpainting #lifestyle #conocimiento #universe #vintage #quotesaboutlife #philosophie https://www.instagram.com/p/CmiYZaGtYeP/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[alimmorais]

🦐 #tbt #saomigueldosmilagres #summer (em São Miguel dos Milagres - Maceió) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cl9csA2uDsW/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[macompanhiaboa]

TBT sonolento e de bucho cheio do dia... (em Barra de São Miguel) https://www.instagram.com/p/Clo58QNJM_x7emv_OwfDUSoKuzA4NV6kb1-fl80/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=