#gonzalo thought

[mlmgtenjoyer]

Marxism-Leninism-Maoism, Gonzalo Thought explained

MLM-GT is the modern science of communism. That means that it is for the liberation of the working class by giving over control of the economy to the working class through collective, democratic ownership of their workplaces.

MLM-GT is anti-imperialist. It supports the right of nations to self-determination, including colonized people such as indigenous nations and the New Afrikan nation

MLM-GT is revolutionary. The military strategy of the working class is the three phase Protracted People's War.

MLM-GT is anti-bureaucratic. Our goal is cultural revolution, the continuous unleashing of the youth against the bureaucracy to keep the revolution on the right track and accountable to the people. In order to prevent the army from ending the cultural revolution early, as happened in China, the party must be militarized. Every party member must be prepared to be a member of the people's army.

Dare to struggle, dare to win.

[demonpoetlilith]

a marxian analysis of haibane renmei

haibane renmei is my favorite show. it's rather difficult to summarize. a literalist summation would say it's a somewhat rightist (ultra-centralist) commune fantasy in a purgatory. the show displays somewhat of a materialist conception of psychology given it's about learning to lean on relationships in a world of unknowns. Guri seemingly possesses a strange isolationist ethnocracy economy, with a mix of state capitalist & socialist characteristics, without a clear state or bourgeoisie (although it visually resembles the market form). ABe states the show is his religious views, displaying an existentialist agnosticism. the setting oddly resembles early versions of the myth of the Garden of Eden. the haibane can easily be interpreted as a migrant labor force within Glie, seemingly subjected to a state union, taking that perspective i'd suggest it's a utopian socialist fantasy for arts worker in a society who's Left failed to get off the ground. the meta angle to this is it's stated to representation ABe's finding salvation during his student years, this perspective can be interpreted as characterizing the alienation of the student non-class with all their endless dreams, devoid of knowledge of how capitalism's totalitarianism twists the life of labor. it's hard to say the nature of their national question, while Glie exchanges materials with the outside the contact is restricted, with the people possessing a metaphysical fear of breaking the emigration taboo, the odd exception being how the haibane renmei seemingly prepare the isolated haibane to move past beyond the town psychologically. all this can easily be interpreted as metaphor for the alienation of the youth under capitalism & the need for support in that struggle. under modern conditions this is especially poignant due to sharp cost of living-job requirement contradiction. interestingly the show's most visible class struggle is between the haibane & the backwards, arbitrary & totalitarian government

[porcelanitaa]

me when I remember my fictional crush has a canonical love interest:

[sakuraszn]

— APOLOGY ! ₊ ⊹

Imagine you and Miles got into this big fight and you being petty, decide to hang up in his face and block him. As time past, more or so an hour, you're chilling on your bed mindlessly scrolling through social media you suddenly hear music blasting outside of your apartment and as you get up off your bed and make your way to the window to see what all that commotion was about, it was none other than your boyfriend Miles Morales, holding a jukebox and standing beside Ganke, who had a big "I'm sorry" poster in his hands.

“can you come down and talk to me, ma?!! I’m sorry!!” he yelled out as the slow R&B music fills the streets of New York with its loud melody.

As the events unfold before you, you notice concerned bystanders murmuring.

It was hard to contain your laughter as you were taken aback by his efforts to humiliate himself in order to win your favor back.

© sakuraszn ! xx

[kokoronbain]

Hello, hope u feel good!-

So remember about you asking me about redesign swap!goldy? So here's the full deisgn in chibi and and a name reveal ^^

Also one question, I wanna know what's your thoughts about the new lm3 Ghost design I made-

Anyway have a good day and stay safe ^^/💕

Yay thanks!

Holà, Señor Dorado! 👋😊

Geez, now it makes me want to design for good Olivia (aka Roleswap!Paloma)-

Now for your dear new designs, here my opinion like I did last time:

Goob

So cute as usual!

Even cuter with oversided clothes for him!! 😭😭

Hammer

Very badass and... mysterious, if I must say? 👀✨

Oozer

OH GEEZ HE IS HANDSOME AND CHARMING AS EVER NOW!!!

He got my little heart! 😩💗💗💗

Slinker

More elegant than ever! Love the details in design, specially his earring!

Trapper

Cute! I really love his haircut and flower 🥰 I've noticed he has triangle on his eyes. I wonder why, hmm...🤔

Aaand that's all I want to say! 😄 Keep up with your art, dear and have a great day too!! 🩷

[vriskarlmarx]

Genuine question, are you a maoist?

nah

ive read several things by him and i think there are significant things to be learnt from mao zedong thought as well as the experience of china but no i am certainly not a maoist

[brbzonedout]

master list

Into/across the spider-verse

Percy Jackson and The Olympians

[milesgmorales]

crazy that they canonized miles g morales

[pearlescent-soda]

🐾//Three Diablos Language Headcanons:

A series of headcanons I forgot to post on my 3,000th re-watch of the 13-minute animated short. I quickly realized that if those three little kittens began to speak, they would probably know more languages than Puss himself. All three are multilingual to some degree, but their ability to speak certain languages are different for various reasons. Sometimes it's a lack of practice... Sometimes it's a deliberate exclusion.

---

Based loosely on the proficiency guidelines set up by the American Council on the Teaching of Foreign Languages.

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Literary References: -'The Vain Little Mouse' -'The Lion and the Thorn' -'The Lion and the Mouse'

TW: Mild Violence (Briefly Mentioned) and Past Abuse (Briefly Mentioned)

---

⚔️Gonzalo:

Cat = Superior. He's semi-familiar with this language, his upbringing saw him link up with every street critter that wasn't a cat. Truthfully, he'd sooner go to ask a rat for directions than he would a cat. It was because he started roaming the streets more in his adolescence that he got a chance to actually practice using it... When he wasn't guarding Princess Alessandra that is, aka, neglecting his duties in favor of hanging out with other tomcats and strays for... God knows what.

English = Distinguished. The official languages of Bellagamba are Italian and English, so he had no choice but to learn it, Princess' orders. One small issue, though, Gonzalo doesn't like authority figures and he most certainly doesn't like being told what to do, he listens to the royal family and his siblings to a greater degree, but everyone else is liable to receive an eye roll, a hiss, and a handful of claws to the face in that order. Need proof? Look no further than his battered and bruised English tutor who just. Wouldn't. Give. Up. No matter how many rotten apples he gave her or snakes he put in her shoes. Eventually, after a two-month long period of self-reflection, he started to regret his harsh treatment of her and very reluctantly gave in to her benign demands during her vocal lessons and even began to enjoy them a little. Well, it seems like the tenacious teacher has earned some of the troubled youth's respect.

French = Intermediate Mid. He knew words essential to his survival like 'food', 'water', 'money', and 'kill'. Learning it was never really on his agenda while under 'The Whisperer', but he still kept several key phrases and lots of foul language.

Italian = Distinguished. Perfetto! No tutor required, not with Alessandra next to him, who, in his opinion, was a much better teacher than the high-strung fools she usually brought in to teach him. He can be heard speaking this language often with everyone he comes across in Bellagamba first before using any English.

Spanish = Nope. After his short time with Puss, he was more than willing to learn how to speak Spanish, an enthusiasm that dwindled significantly over the years. He associates Spanish with Puss and Puss with every negative trait he can conjure up... He hasn't visited them in years! He never came back to Bellagamba, only his crappy store-bought gift cards did. And what were they written in? Words that resembled Spanish. Hell, half the time the words were totally illegible, and the paper was smeared with ink, cheap cologne, and spoiled milk. At this point, Gonzalo is now fully convinced that Puss has to be absolutely plastered in order to remember them, so if a card from Puss makes its way to him first, it's going straight into the trash. Safe to say he's not interested in learning anymore.

🌸Perla:

Cat > Distinguished. Learned from an old alley queen before her peaceful demise in the comfort of her empty apple crate. But don't expect her to use it around humans EVER, she's trying to keep a professional appearance while not undercover, and humans have such 'undignified' reactions. 'Aaw' and 'ooh' are common responses to her rather benign meows, and as teenager, she finds it embarrassing to no end.

English > Distinguished. Unlike the uncouth Gonzalo and absent-minded Timoteo, she was more than willing to learn English and took to it as quick as a bear dashes to a full honey pot. She was singing, writing, and reading in English around them, and they followed suit in their language development, well... Gonzalo did at least, Timoteo is not quite there yet.

French > Superior. She translated a lot of the mad ramblings of 'The Whisperer' to Gonzalo and Timoteo, so much so that they soon got the gist of what he was saying before she had a chance to translate. She says that's she's moved on from her time as a henchman, but if one looks closely at her when someone speaks it, her fur is standing on end and her breathing briefly quickens.

Italian > Advanced Mid. Timoteo was tutoring her at night while Alessandra had her during the day, it was kind of embarrassing for the very much independent Perla, but she knew it would be crucial to know.

Spanish > Novice Mid. She doesn't have many people to practice with and wanting to sincerely learn was only a recent thought after a rather embarrassing introduction in Spain. All she did was stop a cat burglar from victimizing an innocent mouse and now said mouse has acquired quite an unhealthy obsession with her... and she only speaks Spanish. The mouse shows up every now and then to confess her love to the bewildered feline, something about a 'pretty voice' and a 'pretty face'. Perla would be lying if she said that one of her sole motivators for learning wasn't to decipher what the lovestruck rodent was rambling about.

🐞Sir Timoteo Montenegro III:

Cat x Distinguished. His earliest memories are of lazing his days away in a modest pet store, and now he knows nearly all domesticated animal languages there are to know. Animals sitting in display cases and kennels all day have nothing but time to talk and Timoteo had nothing to do but listen.

English x Novice? He's got simple words and phrases memorized but it's unclear if he's actually understanding what's being said or if he's just copying his brother and sister. And while this supposed mimicry isn't exactly exclusive to English, it raises more flags because he has so much trouble speaking it.

French x Intermediate Low. He's got enough basic knowledge about this language; he wasn't really paying too much attention to his 'tutor'. He did, however, take notice when a spiked flail was coming his way courtesy of 'The Whisperer' himself. He's memorized the names of French desserts like Mille-feuille, eclairs, palmiers, and whatever else Perla read to him from the hideout's lackluster library.

Italian x Distinguished. Hmph, and Alessandra says she doesn't have any favorites, she keeps this little guy close to her at all times. Maybe it's a strategical move, he is the most unassuming Diablo, but still fierce if the situation calls for it... or maybe it's because she's afraid he'll eat the contents of his own wallet and chew on the brim of his hat newly repaired hat.

Spanish x Superior. A Spanish lion of royal descent and an Italian soldier with feline features becoming friends was unexpected, but Timoteo taking that thorn out of his paw was the probably the best idea he's ever had. It took two entire kingdom's several weeks to try and heal their prince's ailment while it only took a little cat twenty seconds. Bellagamba got itself a new allied power while Timoteo got a big, no, monumental older brother and an unwitting Spanish teacher.

[moonfurthetemmie]

Would Deimos still live in the manor after all of this (considering Deimos find a way to get rid of the eldritch thingy without killing anyone)or would he be like “finally I can leave this place” and went back to his place. Now that I think about it what would happen to Gonzalo and Petruccio anyway

Sorry this feels so random , got curious

bestie I always love talking about my blorbos. Never apologize for it

Deimos would 100% grab Phobos and drag him back to their castle, with the intention of never setting foot in Petruccio and Gonzalo’s MV ever again. And after everything, I doubt Phobos wants to stay, either.

Some people may be welcome to visit, though. And by some I mostly just mean the people who helped Deimos deal with. All of that. So Antonio, Sortino, and Francisco. Maybe Lodovico and Beatrice, too, but Deimos doesn’t care as long as they don’t mess with shit too much.

Isabella miiiight be allowed on occasion, but it’s a big maybe. Definitely not without someone else from the manor that Deimos trusts.

Gonzalo and Petruccio meanwhile are going to be having The worst time of their lives. They’ve spent over a hundred years listening to Yighraru and doing whatever it said. They probably still don’t entirely understand just how horrific some of the things they did were.

Murder bad, yes. Sacrificial murder isn’t that much worse, though. Right?

And they’re uncertain about pretty much all of the literal torture they put people through. Psychologically and psychically. Yeah okay what they did to Bella was kind messed up, but Sforza’s fine. …what do you mean ‘no’???

Gonzalo is especially struggling, having been so young when it got him. He spent the last third roughly of his childhood having his mind, morals, and sanity warped into something that Yighraru could easily use to accomplish its goals. Some of this feels even more normal to him than it does to Petruccio.

Petruccio can help some but they’re both going to need a lot of help. And honestly he’s more moral support than anything. He doesn’t understand why the others are acting like everything they did was a crime against humanity, either.

They might stay in the manor, but it depends.

Are they even welcome to stay? (And can you blame anyone if the answer is no?)

Are they just. Still there? Or are some of their housemates trying to help them? (Bella might be willing, having seen the horrors herself, but she needs a lot of help too. Not to mention what they did to her.)

Can they find somewhere else to go?

They’ll probably prefer to stay for a while, since they don’t have anywhere, but eventually they’ll decide that just being there is too much, and they want to leave and never think about it again!

But they still don’t know where to go. It doesn’t help that everyone knows who they are, in their MV.

They could go to Deimos and Phobos’ MV, but the chances of running into one or both of them are too high. For all the shit they did, they really did care about those two. They can’t bear to face them now.

Not even to thank Deimos for helping all of them.

[ironcapricorn]

Navigating the Labyrinth: Gonzalo Lira's (Coach Red Pill) Legacy and the Concerns of an Independent Thinker

As a fellow American, I want to give my respects to Lira's family and friends. RIP to him as well. We are approaching some strange times in the US and across the world, and while this blog is mainly for self-development I want to bring a moments attention to this. These are my thoughts and reflections after watching this man on Youtube and my own concerns for all Americans. The US Constitution allows for us each day to be able to have the privilege of self development, and I think it is important to recognize what this all means...

In the vast expanse of online discourse, few figures have sparked as much controversy and intrigue as Gonzalo Lira, widely known as Youtube sensation, Coach Red Pill. As an independent thinker who stands outside the bounds of traditional party affiliations, I found myself resonating with some of Lira's insights on heterosexual relationship dynamics and life lessons. However, the complexities surrounding his politics and the alleged failure of the U.S. government to rescue him from Ukraine have given rise to concerns that transcend political lines. This blog post aims to unravel the enigma of Gonzalo Lira, exploring facets beyond my personal agreement or disagreement with his views.

Gonzalo Lira: A Tapestry of Ideas and Controversies

As someone who values diverse perspectives, I appreciate the multifaceted nature of Coach Red Pill's content. Beyond discussions on relationships and life advice, Lira's online presence was marked by politically charged commentary that traversed unconventional terrain. My independent stance allows me to navigate the controversies surrounding him without being tethered to the polarized dynamics of mainstream politics.

Beyond the Online Persona: Gonzalo Lira's Personal and Political Journey

Delving into Lira's background reveals a life shaped by experiences in various countries, contributing to the mosaic of his worldview. While my agreement with some of his insights is tempered by disagreements with certain political perspectives, it is crucial to recognize the complex interplay between the personal and the political in his narrative. The journey of Coach Red Pill extends beyond the confines of online debates, offering a glimpse into the broader canvas of his life.

The Concerns: A Citizen's Perspective

Regardless of party affiliation, the reported failure of the U.S. government to intervene in Lira's situation in Ukraine raises red flags that transcend political divides. As an independent thinker, I am deeply concerned about the potential vulnerability of American citizens abroad and the role our government plays in ensuring their safety. This incident prompts us to question the accountability of those in power, fostering a sense of responsibility that goes beyond party lines.

Navigating the Controversies: A Nuanced Approach

Coach Red Pill's legacy is characterized by both admiration and critique, highlighting the intricacies of his influence. As an independent thinker, I recognize the importance of engaging with nuanced perspectives and acknowledging the gray areas that exist within the realm of online discourse. The controversies surrounding Lira underscore the delicate balance between individual freedom of expression and the societal responsibilities that come with it.

Reflections of an Independent Thinker

In reflecting on Gonzalo Lira's legacy and the concerns raised by his life's narrative, my independent stance allows me to navigate the labyrinth of ideas and controversies without succumbing to the polarizing forces of party politics. The reported failures in ensuring the safety of an American citizen abroad transcend party lines, urging us to collectively demand accountability and transparency from those entrusted with the welfare of citizens. As we contemplate the legacy of Coach Red Pill, let us do so with an independent and critical perspective, recognizing the broader implications for the principles that should bind us together as a society.

[gutsygremlin]

Upon my second watch I was staring at that AOC sticker in prowler miles’ room getting ready to bet on my last bottle of zoloft that that is not only a good kid but a hero to his universe. Like I just know it. I just know we ain’t got nothing to be scared of but the prowler mantle

[lqveharrington]

Movie Night | M.M.

summary: you and miles having a movie date night <3

pairing: earth 1610!miles morales x fem!reader

warnings: (not proof read !!) making out, loads of fluff, no use of y/n, mama rio scolding the shit outta her son toward the end (trust me, it could’ve been more)

————

“I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair. I hate the way you drive my car. I hate it when you stare. I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind. I hate you so much that it makes me sick..." The Morales’ television played 10 Things I Hate About You for the young couple watching the movie. You were watching intently, head resting atop of Miles’ chest while messing with the loose string on his shirt. Miles, on the other hand, chose to watch you and pay no attention to the movie you so desperately wanted to watch.

He had been watching you for most of the film, only returning his attention back to the movie when you flashed your eyes up at him.

“Miles, I can feel your stare.” You sigh, adjusting your head to rest your chin on his chest, staring back up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, mi vida.” He rubbed your back, “¿No se me permite mirar a mi hermosa amor?”

You scrunch your nose at the loss of understanding a different language. “Miles,” You gently smack his chest, “I understood amor.”

Miles squeezed your waist, “You’re adorable, you know that?’

Grumbling, you look at the screen again, hiding your red cheeks. “Just watch the movie, Morales.”

“Are we back on last name basis again? I thought we were past that.” He shifted to see your faux pouty face. “Aw.”

“Shut up.” You scoot up and bury your head in his neck, refusing to meet his eyes.

He let out a soft laugh, leaning his head back, “Why’re you hiding, mami?”

“You are so insufferable.” Your voice came out muffled. “You and your many, many nicknames.”

“You love my nicknames for you.” Miles continued to rub your back. “And you know I never say anything bad about you in Spanish.”

“What did you say then?”

He chuckled at you, “I said, Am I not allowed to look at my beautiful love?”

You push up on your elbows at the words, “You romanticist.”

“You love me.” He gave you a small smirk, cupping your cheek.

“Do I?” You melt into his hand. He raised his eyebrow at you.

“You know what? Yeah, I do.”

Miles gently brought your face closer to his, pulling you into a soft, needed kiss. You smile into his kiss, moving in sync with his own motions. The movie playing faded into white noise as you both made out, somehow switching positions, moving Miles on top of you.

“Miles,” You separated for a brief moment, needing to breathe. “What time is it?”

“Time is relative.” He pecked your lips, “So, it doesn’t really matter.”

“Ha ha.” You rolled your eyes but ended up being lip locked with your boyfriend again.

He had you trapped with his body, one hand by the curve of your waist and the other now by your neck. You, in a similar way, had your hands interlocked behind his neck pulling him impossibly closer.

However, the both of you being preoccupied, you didn’t realize that Miles’ parents had gotten home from their date night.

“MILES GONZALO MORALES. ¡SERA MEJOR BÁJATE DE ELLA, JOVEN!” Rio shoved her bag into a chair, hands on her hips.

“Shit!” Miles fell to the floor, accidently taking you down with him.

“Hey! Don’t use that language here.” Jeff scolded his son.

You stared at Miles and you both knew what was going to happen.

“We’re screwed.”

————

© lqveharrington — all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms.

[motherlvr]

hi:D can you do miles!42 with a reader who doesn't really like getting told "watch who ur talking to" or smth bc most fics abt miles!42 is like that and nooo i won't ever let a man say that to me😭 and they like, know how to defend themself so they're pretty independent if thats alr ofc!

ngl i loved writing this, tysm for the req!

wc: 2.1k

pairing: E-42 Miles Morales x Strong, Independent! f! reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, kind of rivalry tbh, cursing, Miles is mean in this one, but gets character development, reader knows how to fight, baddie ong, reader doesn't take miles' bs

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"You gotta be shitting me." Mumbling under your breath, your eye involuntarily twitched. You glared at Miles like it was his fault for putting you in this situation.

Your glare was reciprocated as he said, "I ain't happy about it either, princesa." You hated when he called you that. It rolled off his tongue with such distaste. "Yeah? Glad we got that in common then." You snipped, irritated.

Miles Gonzalo Morales was a dick. To put it kindly.

He was a stuck-up, close-minded dick. It's like his sole purpose in life was to irk you. The two of you have never been on good terms. He tested your patience every waking moment.

But unfortunately for both of you, your Spanish teacher paired you up as partners for a major project. It would count for a good portion of your grade, so not doing it wasn't an option for you. You had less than two weeks to finish the project, and you weren't going to waste it.

You'd much prefer to do the project alone. One thing you've learned is: if you want something done correctly, do it yourself. And to never put it solely in the hands of a man. But the project was a requirement for the class, so you had no place to argue about it.

Thankfully, today was just a planning day. So it wouldn't be as painful, you hoped.

You showed him a plan you had thought about within only a few minutes and asked, "Thoughts?" He took a short glance at it and told you, "That's trash." A vein almost popped out of your head. You snapped, "You got any better ideas then?"

"Yea, anythin' other than that." He told you mindlessly. You had half a mind to make his braided head become real familiar with the cold surface of his desk. Around ten minutes later, he had finally come up with something. It wasn't that great, but at least he was semi-cooperative. You took one look at his plan and decided to turn the tables on him. You said, "You couldn't have come up with anything better? Shit's worse than my idea."

You could see him grip his pencil just a bit tighter, no doubt irritated by now. "Nah, watch your mouth." He told you, and you were unsure of how serious he was being. "Watch my mouth? You needa watch how when you turn around, one of your precious braids will be gone." You said as you made a snipping motion with your fingers. He protectively grabbed onto his braids, "Yo chill, ma."

As Spanish class progressed, everything only went downhill from there. He always seemed to hate every idea you had or had something to say. He groaned, "Woman, I swear. Your ideas are shit." Your former hopes of a peaceful partnership were long gone.

His choice of words alone irked you as you replied, "See, that's what you're not gonna call me. And if we're gonna be partners, you need to act decent for once. Get it together, Morales." You set clear boundaries as you pointed a finger at him. Surprisingly, he obliged. He looked like he made a revelation as he shook his head. "Nah, you right. That was outta line." The moment was oddly tranquil until he opened his mouth again. "I meant: I swear, your ideas are fucking terrible."

From that point further, the hopes of having a normal, mature, conversation were fleeting. The majority of the class was spent bickering rather than working on the task at hand.

You were one of the very few people that tested him. You gave him a challenge, while most people wouldn't utter a single complaint.

Eventually, at the end of the class, the two of you finally landed on an idea to carry out. A true miracle.

The next week in Spanish class passed and the days were cutting it closer and closer to the deadline. But there was still much work to be done. So, begrudgingly, you both had to work on it out of school. After Spanish, you were packing up your things when you asked him, "My place or yours?" His response was immediate. "My place. I'll give you my address. Come over after school, 'ight?" He said, writing down his address and handing it to you.

You accepted it and said, "Alright. Are your parents good with me coming over?" You questioned if he even had the decency to check first. Although you couldn't stand him most of the time, you didn't want to intrude on his family. He shrugged it off, "Yeah my ma's good with it. Already told her."

He wasn't about to tell you that his mother demanded the project was done at his house so she could keep a keen eye on the both of you.

You were dreading the final bell of the day. Spending more time than legally required with Miles wasn't your ideal image of fun. As the school day ended, you walked over to Miles' house.

Knocking on the door, it was soon opened by no one other than Miles' mother. She was expecting you, as a smile adorned her face. You greeted her, "¡Hola, Señora Morales! Gracias por invitarme a tu casa." (Hi, Mrs. Morales! Thank you for inviting me to your house.)

She widened her eyes at you, "¡Claro! ¿Cómo estás?" (of course, how are you?) She asked you with a sweet smile. You replied and reciprocated a smile, "Bien, ¿usted?" (good, you?) To which she responded, "Muy bien, gracias." (very good, thank you) As you put down your things, you noticed Miles was standing only a few feet away. His mother pulled Miles to the side and whispered, "She speaks Spanish, I like her." Not wanting to give away that she was a loud whisperer, you concealed a small laugh. It's a wonder how Miles turned out like that. His mother's wonderful. You knew she raised him better.

After his mother was done speaking to him, Miles led you to his room. His mother called out, "¡Deja la puerta abierta!" (leave the door open!) "Si, mami." He said back in an unusually nice tone.

You previously believed Miles Morales was a universal dick. But you soon realized you were somewhat wrong. He was a dick. To everyone except his mother, it seemed.

As you both settled down to start working on the project, you grinned at him like you had just found out a Federal-level secret. "You're such a momma's boy." You said.

His head whipped to you like you knew something you shouldn't. "No one would believe you." He said. You teased, "Oh, everyone would. Trust."

This was the most civil conversation the both of you have ever held within your whole history of knowing Miles. The afternoon was sprinkled with light-hearted jokes here and there, and it wasn't as painful as you initially believed. Needless to say, being forcibly confined in a space with Miles went much smoother than you could've ever anticipated. The project was progressing for once. And so was your relationship with Miles.

A few days later, you were in a better mood than regular. Within the past few days, Miles has been more tolerable. Maybe even likable. Apparently, you were in too good of a mood. You must've appeared too approachable today.

As you were walking in the hallways of school to your next class, a guy you didn't recognize slung an arm around your shoulders and said, "Hey, what's good jit?" You immediately pushed his arm off. He reeked of an excessive usage of cologne. You winced at his stench. "Don't call me that." You assertively said. But he only took it as a challenge. He said with a wink, "You tryna play hard to get? Alright, I'll play along."

"I'm not 'playing hard to get'," You mocked with air quotations. Dumbing it down, you continued, "I don't want you." Could a girl make it any more obvious?

Your words went straight over his oversized head. He said with a disgusting smirk, "I can change your mind." Your face visibly grimaced at his desperate attempt, "Not even baby Jesus could change my mind."

He was starting to get agitated at this point, "Nah, why you trippin', girl?" he said. You immediately retorted, "Why can't you take a damn hint?"

"C'mon, I know you want me. Gimme a chance." He said. You were sick and tired of this interaction, so you just decided to walk away. Turning your back, you tried to escape this conversation. But he grabbed your hand to prevent you from leaving. "Aye, where you goin'?"

You tried to be patient. And where did patience get you? Nowhere. In your mind, this guy was way too testosterone-deficient to be talking tough to you. There was nothing worse than a teenage boy. More importantly, a boy that didn't know what 'no' means.

And in an instant, the sound of a slap resounded throughout the hallway.

He looked like he was about to start crying. Holding his cheek in pain, he sneered, "Fuck you, bitch. You ain't shit anyway. I ain't even want you." But as you tried to walk away once again, he placed a tight grip on your shoulder to prevent you from escaping.

Miles was skipping class and wandering in the hallways when he saw you. From your body language, he could tell you were uncomfortable. His eyes glanced toward the guy's grip on your shoulder, and Miles suddenly understood the situation. He could see where this was heading. Or at least, he believed he did. Miles was about to intervene when within the blink of an eye, you had flipped the guy on his back and onto the floor.

You told the boy on the floor, "Don't try that shit again. With me or any other woman, got it?" Groaning in agony, the guy whimpered in response, and you took it as a 'yes'.

The guy was no André the Giant, but it impressed the hell out of Miles nonetheless. Since when could you do that? He questioned himself. Miles had to prevent his jaw from dropping. He was suddenly glad he never pushed you that far. You walked away unbothered as if nothing had happened. He gained a newfound respect for you. But that would have to stay unspoken.

Once Spanish class rolled around, you realized it was the second to last day you had to finish the project, so you were working extra diligently in Spanish class. You told Miles, "Alright, I finished decorating it. What do you think?" showing him the project. Not that you cared what he thought, but it would make this whole process much easier if he wouldn't shit on your every move. You've had your daily dose of asshole for the day. Almost an overdose, really.

A few moments passed by where he stared at the project, and then back to you. Fully expecting Miles to be his usual asshole self, you said, "Spit it out. What is it?" You waved your hand in front of his face. He swatted your hand away and replied, "I ain't gonna hold you, it's a pretty solid project so far."

You raised a brow at him, and suspiciously asked, "Really?" This was the first time he didn't have any retort to say. "Yeah, I think you're great, ma." He said. You cheekily grinned at him as he tried to correct himself, "I meant, great at the project. Yeah. The project." He almost stumbled on his words. He never did that. He was always collected. What was up with him? It was definitely a sudden change, but you weren't complaining.

There was only a small portion of the project left to do by the end of the class, so Miles suggested finishing it at his house.

This time after school, the both of you walked together to his house. As you worked on the project in his room, you noticed he wasn't getting much done. It seemed like he was in his head, whatever goes on in there. As you glanced up, he locked eyes with you. You hadn't a clue what he was thinking.

You originally would've preferred to do the project yourself, but if you had to have a partner, you believed the work should be divided equally. You weren't going to carry the whole project on your back.

"Why're you slacking, Miles? Our time is limited, y'know." "Ion know. Mind's elsewhere." He shrugged. It was subtle, but you noticed his glance travel to your lips. You grinned and took the opportunity to tease, "What, you want a kiss or somethin'?" You said it mainly as a joke. Sure, maybe you liked the way he gave you a challenge everyday. You wouldn't blatantly admit it, but it was refreshing to be with someone that actually cared about their work. But much to your surprise, he ran his hand over the back of his braids and said. "Shi, maybe it would motivate me. You feel me?"

Not expecting him to agree, you said, "I mean, alright. If you get off your ass, maybe I'll give you one." You tried to say as casually as you could. But you couldn't deny the fact that you were growing fond of him. You were internally conflicted as you wanted to hate him, but couldn't. In reality, it was far from hate.

Miles couldn't exactly pinpoint the moment his detest for you faded away and was replaced with something different. An emotion he rarely felt. Seeing you singlehandedly take on a guy was only fueling it for him. He quickly started working harder on his part. You mentally praised yourself. After a few silent moments, he spoke up, "Yo, I'm basically finished."

He was bullshitting, and you knew it. As you looked at his part of the project, he still had a good chunk to finish. But you caved and moved closer to him. Holding a hand to his face, you peppered a light kiss to the corner of his mouth, just barely avoiding his mouth.

As usual, he had something to say, "Don't play, mami." He resisted the urge to press his lips to yours until they were numb. You simply smiled at him and replied, "Yeah? Keep workin' and you'll earn a real one."

Immediately, Miles got right back to working on his part of the project without another complaint. You've never seen him work so studiously.

Pleased to say, with your motivation, Miles was more productive that day than all the other days combined.

------------

taglist! please lmk if u want to be added 🫶

@l5byrinth @iamspooderman

[tainted-liquor]

⟡'Big Ass Attitude ☆ [21.10.23] - ft. Earth42 Miles G. Morales

☆彡 Ingredients: sugar, kisses, n a lil bit of smiles!

"Mamita, date prisa! Vamos a llegar tarde!" Miles called from downstairs, struggling to make his tie look normal. You groaned, adding the finishing touches to your makeup and gently gracing the shimmery silver brush across your nose and cupid bow. "Uh, yeah, Miles! I can't beat my face any faster," you groaned, throwing your brush back into its drawer with a little more force than you'd like to admit. "Please don't start, lil' girl," Miles replied, his low and slightly irritated voice filling your ears as he made his way up the steps and into your room. He leaned against the door frame as he looked you up and down, analyzing your beautiful red dress before turning his attention to his white collar.

"Oh sure, I won't start! Miles, get the fuck out of my room," You huffed, raising yourself from your ivory desk chair and making your way over to Miles. He gave you a sharp glare, eying you up and down with his mismatched emerald green and deep hazel eyes. "What did I just say?" he warned, rolling his eyes ever so slightly before stepping aside, giving you full access to the black-rimmed mirror on your bedroom door. "Mhm, whatever you say Gonzalo!" you muttered, nodding your head with faux compliance as you smoothed out the smooth and shiny fabric of your red dress. "Where'd you say we were going again love?" You asked, doing a half-turn in the mirror to see what your dress looked like from all angles.

Miles chuckled lowly at your usual snide remarks. It's not that he didn’t care, you just always wanted the last word and he thought it was funny. The way you’d stop him mid-sentence, pressing an unwavering finger to your lips as an indication for him to stop talking. He never got bored of the way you’d grab whatever it was you wanted, eagerly gesturing to whatever the new item of interest was before asking, no, telling him that you were gonna get this one. IT worked out perfectly, with Miles being fine with virtually anything while you dragged him along with you for every bumpy ride you had in store.

The red glittery material twinkled under your room's industrial white lighting, casting soft red highlights on the warm white of your bedroom walls. You fluffed out your curls, leaning on one leg as you gave yourself a final look through the reflective glass. While waiting for Miles to answer, you eyed him through the mirror, watching as his eyes became transfixed on your dress. He watched as the shimmery fabric found purchase on every ounce of skin it could find, highlighting every beautiful imperfection in its shiny path. Dear god, he won.

"Well damn, you wanna borrow it next?" you chuckled, turning around to face him before grabbing your bag from off your vanity desk. He cleared his throat, snapping his eyes shut before letting out a half-amused sigh. "I got tickets to this fancy-ass theater from my coach...something about MVP," he shrugged, holding your upper waist like the most precious gem in the world. To Miles, you were nothing short of something carved and molded from angels; their gentle and heavenly hands spent years perfecting their craft to give birth to the most gorgeous model to ever walk the clouds above. You were too beautiful to walk the heavens, so here you breathe, blessing the world with your beauty.

"You ready to go? We got like 35 minutes, 'n I still wanna watch out for traffic” He reminded, putting away most of the makeup you left open on top of your maple oak vanity. "Yeah, c’mon,” you nodded, quickly shoving your perfume, lipgloss, house keys, and phone into your small handbag. You gasped when you reached the car, earning a soft and concerned glare from your boyfriend. His beautiful face glowed under the soft glare of the moonlight and New York neons, properly illuminating the depth in each of his facial features. “¿Qué pasa, qué necesitas?” He queried, instantly turning around to see what was wrong. 

You looked up at him, deep black irises shining and glittering under the ghostly hue of ‘spotlight’, placing your delicate hands on either side of Miles’s shoulders. “I left my bracelet in the house…can you get it for me pleaseee~?” You whined, leaving a soft trail of delicate kisses along the side of his jaw and right next to his lips, barely ghosting his now-prominent dimple as a love struck smile creeped up on his face. He nodded drunkenly, eyes filled with nothing but adoration as he ran back in the cozy apartment to look for your glimmering rose-gold bracelet. He made quick work of tearing up the entire house, not stopping until he came across the gorgeous piece of jewelry then darting back out the door. Everyone else may know Miles to be a stoic and quiet young man, but that well-kept façade always seemed to crumble when faced by you.

“Thank you, boo!” You chirped, climbing into the passenger seat of Miles’s all black Tesla, courtesy of his uncle for his 17th birthday. The seats were ice cold, creating a numbing clash against the body heat of your skin as you felt goosebumps grow across every inch of your uncovered skin. This didn’t go unnoticed by Miles, who wasted no time in taking off his suit jacket and draping the soft silk across your shoulders in a heartbeat. “¿Estás bien?” He questioned, quickly starting up his car to jumpstart the heat as he reached to connect his phone to the car radio. You nodded, quickly smacking his hand away as you connected your phone to the speaker system instead.

“I give you my jacket…and you smack my hand?” He chuckled, giving you a small eye roll as he used one hand to guide himself out the crammed parking spot. You nodded, smiling at him brightly as you let the bass of ‘Not My Job’ by Flo fill the empty space of Miles’s car. “You always play like…CD osama or something-“

“DD Osama, love” he sniggered, biting back a louder laugh that threatened to leave his lips. You rolled your eyes, gently smacking the nape of his neck as he giggled louder. “Miles shut up you know what I meant” you scoffed, pretending to be annoyed and leaning against the passenger door, watching the city pass you by as your boyfriend broke into a fit of laughter. “Yes ma’am,” he corrected, using his free hand to hold the back of your seat's headrest, gently patting the plush leather to the rhythm of your playlist as you talked his ear off about your plans for the future. “And then, I wanna go into theatrical arts. We should buy a cute lil house for the two of us when we graduate! I’ll decorate it, and it’ll be soooo fuckin’ cute,” you rambled, scanning Miles’s features every now and again to check that he was really listening, and he was.

He clung to every word like a mother clinging onto her energetic baby; filled with pride and joy as her beautiful baby girl scoped out the world around her and mapped her way through the fog. He nodded along, keeping his eyes on the road but still sparing you attentive glances while you ranted about your sudden surge of baby fever and hopes for your future. It hadn't even occurred to you that the bumpy and traffic-clad ride was now long over, with you and Miles having found a spot in the parking lot over 15 minutes ago. Miles was leant over the cushioned arm rest, one hand supporting his head while his other wrist rested on his arm. “Oh shit, Miles, why didn’t you tell me we were here?” You gasped, quickly grabbing your things as Miles ran to open your car door.

“Sorry. Didn’t wanna interrupt you” He beamed, taking your hand in his as he led you out of the ink-stained vehicle and closing the door behind you. You lead Miles forward to the entrance, almost like you had been to the unfamiliar establishment before while your boyfriend followed closely behind you. He chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder while he mumbled dangerously close to your ear. 

“I’ll let you know next time. I love you”

Taglist !♡

@ashsostrange @chessbox @janaeby @faeriesoiree333 @fivestardior @an1bara @bachirasegoist @milesnanana77 @niaurluv @sp1derw1re @ban-al3x @we-loveebony @kae2kaee @dxrlingcc

[kombuuuu]

Miles (42) getting into his first real fight with Mrs. Morales when she says she doesn’t like his s/o.

“Miles, I just-”

“You told me you wanted me to put myself out there and make friends. Mama, I’ve found so much more than just a friend. I got someone who makes me happy, someone who loves me. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Of course it is, mijo. I just don’t-”

“I am happy. They make me happy. If you don’t like that then…deal with it. I’ve fallen in love, ma. I know that for sure.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Dad would’ve thought differently.”

“That’s not fair.”

“You’re right, it’s not.”

“Miles! Where are you going!”

“Out.”

“No, don’t you dare open that door, Gonzalo.”

He paused, fingertips barely brushing the doorknob before taking a quick breath and continuing.

“I’ll be back tomorrow.”

He pulled the door open, ignoring the calls of his Mother as he rushed down the stairs. Not willing to face the possibility of either her wrath or her worry. He didn’t quite know which one was worse.

He knew bringing up his dad was a low blow. How it was unfair on his Ma. But he couldn’t help it. He was right. If his dad was here, he’d be encouraging Miles in finally finding someone who brings him happiness like you do.

He’d be telling stories of how smitten he was with Rio, and would fawn over the prospect of young love. Would tell Miles how lifelong partners run in the family, how it’s not just some high-school sweetheart, it’s something to cherish and let blossom into something forever. Something to never let go of, if you had the choice.

Miles felt a quick tear drop down his cheek, and in his rush to get to you, he hadn’t even noticed his crying.

He was hurt. Not only from the thoughts of his father, but from fighting with his Ma, too. He hated it, not usually willing to leave fights on unhappy endings, but this was just something else.

He didn’t want to think of you as something negative. You weren’t that. You were so good to him. Too good for him. And he needed Rio to realise that he wasn’t naïve when it came to you, he knew your ins and outs almost better than he knew his own.

And you knew him.

But she couldn’t see that.

So when he knocked on your door, and you opened it before the sixtieth second, he wasn’t surprised.

You worriedly wiped the stray tears of his cheeks and kissed them away and he melted into you. You gathered him in your arms, letting his taller form slump over you in what could be considered a hug, and ushered him into your apartment. Not pushing him to talk to you, but listening when he did

You kissed his woes away, and dragged his focus from the depths of his mind to the finger scratching at his scalp. Light and sweet, just like you were to him.

He let you hold him, and shuffled his hands into your shirt, feeling the warmth of your back spread over his fingertips.

Bumps rose on every shiver your touch brought him, and you soothed them out. Swiping soft hands over rough skin and tearing the discomfort out of his bones, molding him like clay in the heat of your palm.

He wonders how you could be so in love with him. How you could look at him as if he hung the stars solely to lead a path of light from him to you. How you could cherish him in any such ways as you already do, when he’s the one crying. He’s the one seeking comfort and a body to hold.

How could you think caring for him is the greatest act you could commit?

And then he tells you he loves you, mumbled and incoherent.

And you whispered it back, with feverish admiration.