#miguel sa

[oldcountrybear1955]

Miguel Sa - Photographed by David Velez

[murcielagatito]

miguel would be turning in his grave if he knew yall werent putting him in the cuntiest outfits imaginable. he needs to be dressed in haute couture. he needs two layer minimum of the latest fashion. he would be so happy in multilayered techwear i just know it. he would be so happy in the mugatu sweater

[demi-pixellated]

all grown

[punkeropercyjackson]

The Atsv x Reader tags are literally over half Miguel noncon and d*ddy shit but y'all think Ghostpunk is problematic because 'Hobie would be taking advantage of Gwen when she's in a really vulnerable position to him' and that Punkflower shouldn't be a thing because Miles' 15 and Hobie's 17 and 'basically his older brother'..........

[recordum]

[oluin]

[delfindakila]

ROGER SAN MIGUEL Pag-aani, oleo sa kambas, 2022 #artPH

[del-tintero-al-papel]

El cuervo sabe

El cuervo no sabe,

de letras,

de palabras,

de nombres.

No sabe de historia,

ni de obras de arte.

Pero el cuervo sabe.

De los insectos,

animales y bestias,

que pueblan los bosques.

De las aves emplumadas,

que surcan los cielos.

Sabe, incluso,

De las criaturas

de escaso pelaje.

Que inventan maneras

de cubrir sus cuerpos.

Que crean formas

de surcar los mares,

e incluso el cielo abierto.

El cuervo sabe.

De cosas brillantes,

y de oscuros secretos.

Sabe,

de las cosas que no sabe.

Y de cuando aventurarse,

y cuando guardarse,

de los caminos inciertos.

El cuervo sabe.

Esta obra está bajo una Licencia Creative Commons Atribución-NoComercial-CompartirIgual 4.0 Internacional.

[romances-not-tragedies]

ang bantay ko'y tala, ang tanod ko'y bituin

Summary: Miguel contemplates on the price he has to pay for his decision, and longs for a time free of complications.

Title and story inspired by this song.

**********

Miguel lay on the bed, willing for sleep to come to him. Yet his mind was still wired from his blistering conversation with the Manila police lieutenant and the Island detective. He had made it clear to them that he did not trust them for his own reasons.

He wished that he had a choice, one that did not involve stepping out of his hiding place and be killed before fulfilling what he had set himself to do.

He also wished that he was not stuck with a private detective who liked to appear as interesting as a piedra de China and a police lieutenant who hated his kind--and whose parentage he had suspected and tried to confirm since that fateful day in Cebu more than a decade ago.

Except he had been stuck between a rock and a hard place. He had to choose between two evils.

The silver lining in this ordeal, however, was that they had him sheltered in a room above a small restaurant. A migrant from Guangdong brought this quaint building once he had sufficient funds from hawking chicken mami in the streets. Despite the difference between their cultures--the owner from a Cantonese-speaking province and Miguel was mostly fluent in Hokkien--they had struck up a quick friendship. The owner had picked up on his distrust with authority and conversed with him after the Island detective and the police lieutenant had left earlier that night.

"You are not at ease, young man," the former teacher from Guangdong noted as they shared dinner. "You are suspicious of them." He meant both Jo Gar and Lieutenant Sadi Ratan.

Miguel nodded at him. "It is not that I am not grateful for their rescuing me from death. I am, but I suspect that my boss demanded them to find me and they would have me turned over to him. After my friend..." Miguel trailed, at loss for words as the pain of his friend's disappearance had stabbed him in the heart once more and how the police bungled up the investigation, causing his anger to flare in his heart once more. "My friend is lost, and I suspect it is because of my boss."

The owner had only nodded.

"Of course, you know of Lieutenant Ratan's reputation," Miguel pointed out. "He hates us. And I cannot trust Jo Gar despite his reputation."

"Oh dear, it is hard to decide what to do," the owner had only commented, his brows furrowing at the thought. "But what choice do you have, young man? If you want to find out who did it and keep your life with you, you have to deal with them regardless of what you feel, just as how they have to deal with you despite their opinions."

Miguel had nodded wearily. "It is never easy."

"Not easy, but who knows what the payback will be?"

"Goodness me, is this a quid pro quo?"

The owner shook his head. "Just being practical, young man."

The older of them had a point. It didn't matter what he or they felt with one another. And he had to do what needed to be done.

Yet it was not the only price he had to pay. He also had to pay the heavy price of leaving his family and friends behind.

Tears pricked behind his eyelids. It hurt his heart to stay away from his family and friends, but he had to. He could not risk them being caught in the whirling storm that the Thorntons were capable of. They could snap their fingers and--BAM! your life would be over. No, if any punishment would fall, it should fall on Miguel.

He sat up on the bed, let his tears fall. But he cried silently, not wanting anyone, not the owner, to see him crying. He did not want them to know the pain beating on him because he decided to do what was right.

He missed his home. He missed his family. He missed his friends. He missed the life he'd had before entering Thornton's real estate firm. He missed the life when Raul was still present in his life. Raul's absence had grown more pronounced as time went by, as opposed to what people blather about time healing all wounds.

(It was bullshit.)

And above all, he missed the carefree days when he could sleep knowing that he was secure, that he had nothing to worry about. That he was surrounded by his loving family and friends. And he missed his mother so much.

He thought about his mother, who would always sing him and his siblings to sleep. Her soft voice would waft within the room, a comfort when any of her children were upset or sick. She would sing songs in her native Cebuano, songs of love and assurances that everything would be alright, and some that would make them smile or laugh. Sometimes she would just hum the music of a song she'd known.

No wonder even his father would stop what he was doing and listen to her sing.

No wonder he fell in love with her back then and was still in love with her.

He wished that his mother would be by his side, let him cry on her shoulder to let out all the pain in his heart. She might not fully understand, but she would know when one of her own was suffering. He wanted to hear her sing her songs once more until he slept.

It's alright, anak, she would assure him if she were here with him, I am right here.

Tell us what is bothering you, anak. Let us help you.

I cannot, Ina. I cannot. But I will once it is all over.

He would have to face this alone. It was his price to pay, and it could cost his life.

But if he ever came out of the ordeal alive, he would make up to them for the rash decisions he had made, for the pain it had caused them. And maybe, just maybe, have a life that would let him be in peace in his waking hours, like how his mother's lullaby gave him peace in his sleep.

[uitzinnigmp3]

okay. final thoughts

[oldcountrybear1955]

Fucking Young! Online September 2023 - Miguel Sa - Photographed by Szymon Stepniak

[iobartach]

@veldinstar // continued from: x

There was no way to sugar-coat it; he was utterly on his own, a true solo act. He didn't need confirmation from one of DreadZone's longest tenured competitors to confirm the same conclusion that he had naturally come to by himself. But, as chafing as the response received was, the input was appreciated.

Especially when it helped to confirm his standing within Vox's illegal bloodsport.

"Wouldn't be the first time." Self-sufficient to a fault, he takes the news in stride, as bleak in facial expression as he was in tone. If he was to be no more than an expendable asset in a deadly game of chance and skill, then he'll carry that designation through to the very end-- to where he had his talons wrapped firmly around Gleeman's throat.

Letting his attention linger on that end goal for a minute, a furrow of brows indicates the curdling of his earlier felt gratitude, souring further as expressed amusement is met with a cold stare. The only man that had attempted to kill Miguel previously had inadvertently created a monster. To his fellow gladiators that may feel inspired... or enticed... to attempt the same? He'd show them no mercy.

"If you get in my way? You'll be lucky if I let you live long enough to regret it."

[demi-pixellated]

Spin, Spin the bottle

[gingus-doon]

broke: "yandere" (abusive) miguel o'hara

woke: sensitive & tasteful exploration of miguel's emotional issues that doesn't make him a rapist or literal abuser & treats him + the reader as people

bespoke: THE SECOND ONE BUT BUTCH MIGUEL O'HARA INSPIRED BY OBSESIÓN AVENTURA BARK BARK AROOOARF ARF B

[ahaaaoootblooded]

i know in the philippines we don't get to watch american newyork broadway or whatever but listen. you are all missing out on walang aray. my life has changed permanently

[gme-news]

GINEBRA WALANG PAKIALAM SA PAG AMOK NI JAMAAL FRANKLIN

via IFTTT