#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

[angel-cryptid]

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

[pearlescent-soda]

🐾//The Three Diablos General Headcanons

Ideas that have been collecting dust in my brain for the past two - three weeks that I finally got around to editing/ posting. Enjoy!

---

TW: Child/ Animal Abuse and Child/ Animal Death

The recently crowned Queen Alessandra Belagomba took the longest out the palace inhabitants to warm up to 'The Three Diablos'. After all, they were henchmen for the conman who literally snatched her kingdom's crown jewel from her head and now they're her personal guards. Of course, she was going to be skeptical of three notorious, deeply feared thieves being in charge of her life, while 'The Three Diablos' thought it was going to take nine lifetimes for them to gain any semblance of trust from her. When in reality, it only took about a year, and while Alessandra honestly hated to admit it, they are three of the best, most magnificent bodyguards she’s ever had. They've thwarted a ludicrous amount of assassination attempts and maniacal schemes in and out of her own court that after fifteen she stopped counting. It was becoming obvious to her their redemptions weren't a ploy to get back at her after all, they genuinely wanted to be better and she grew to love them for it.

Puss was the worst at staying in contact, he sent them each letters at an excruciatingly infrequent rate prior to his scuffle with Death, probably two to three times a year at the most. Now, there's a castle servant delivering letters to them every week and by the end of the month it's like Christmas with how many gifts that spindly, overworked messenger delivers to their quarters. They don't exactly know what brought on the sudden change of heart, Puss left a lot of explicit details out, but they're certainly not complaining.

While they might be hometown heroes, their heroism isn't exclusive to Belagomba, they go wherever their royal highness goes whether it be the nearby San Ricardo, the not-so-nearby Poison Apple, or the true to its name Far Far Away.

They're not biological siblings, they're three orphaned strays that got lucky and found each other... And then 'The Whisperer' found them and treated them like utter crap. He treated all his 'employed' henchmen like they were slaves because with nowhere else to go, what could they do? Go back to the cramped alleyways and diseased cesspits they were born in? Nope! The Three Diablos earned their title by becoming the best of the best out of all his destitute critters so they could stay in his favor indefinitely and it worked out well for them... Well... Until Uncle Puss arrived that is.

In the very, very early days of their new careers, like the first two months, they had troubles adjusting to their new life in the castle, their less than fortunate upbringings on the streets and under the Whisperer being made apparent. They wouldn't eat all their food opting to hide it under their beds instead of finishing it, they had an extreme dislike for being touched by humans, and then there were the school lessons, those were a doozy. They're smart kitties, truly they are, they flew through every subject thrown their way, arithmetic, art, reading, finance, but those speech lessons were a beast to get through. Going from 'Meow' to 'Hola' took a lot of patience from their tutors and plenty of sleepless nights for all involved that ultimately resulted in three somewhat well-spoken kittens.

As strays/ henchmen/ heroes/ personal bodyguards they've all had encounters with death from a young age, however, their personal accounts on meeting 'Death' vary greatly. The three for the life of one another just cannot agree on what he looks like or how he acts. Sometimes he's a gentle voice that lulls one to sleep and other times he's a psychotic, hulking beast determined on tearing one’s soul from their body through brute force.

[brbzonedout]

master list

Into/across the spider-verse

Percy Jackson and The Olympians

[milesgmorales]

crazy that they canonized miles g morales

[moonfurthetemmie]

there was a conversation happening in The Discord Server about consensual cannibalism, which eventually derailed from its original context in real-life to the blorbos from our heads

Eventually, a question was asked: Are there any guardians/spirits who’d eat another guardian?

And I could think of a handful of JMV/DINTIS OCs from AUs I haven’t shared here...

...then I realized that Gonzalo and Petruccio probably would. with each other's consent.

double check the tags before you read please

rambling and brainstorming

I wasn’t sure at first whether it would be some contrived ritual for their Lord, or their own thing that had nothing to do with Yighraru

But I think it would more likely be the latter. Some form of “We will never truly be apart; we’ll always have a piece of each other with us.”

And it’s probably been happening for a while, by the present day. Several years, I think. They might not even remember when or how it started.

I’m still working out some details, but I think it'd be a regular every week/every other week thing. possibly. I'm also imagining specifically before they turn in for the night, which consequently gives them time to regenerate before the morning.

Since guardians/spirits can’t get sick, there’d be no consequences for them if they ate raw meat, so they could theoretically just take bites out of each other.

And I think they probably do? But do they do it like that all the time? Or would they cut pieces off sometimes? If they do, how much? Would they prepare it? How much of that depends on Sortino not being anywhere near the kitchen?

Although, I think, unfortunately for the mental state of everyone else, it would be a thing they do in private but not something they take drastic measures to hide. So if someone found out (or, worse, saw something), they wouldn’t really care. They might even think it’s funny to see how they react

So if they do cut pieces off and want it prepared, they might ask Sortino to do it. They likely wouldn’t outright tell him what the mystery meat is, but the whole thing would be weird enough that he would probably be afraid to ask.

They just…brought these cuts of meat and asked him to make something with them. They’re so fresh, they’re still warm and bloody. One is specifically for Gonzalo and the other for Petruccio. They might be limping slightly. They might have suspicious bandages. They’re definitely acting a little odder than usual. It’s pretty late and most if not all of the others are asleep.

He doesn’t want to know. He pretends they keep hunting wild boars or something and are just being particular because they're already kind of insane. He might be the only one they make an effort to hide it from, but only because they think he’d stop helping if he knew. And his cooking is so good :((

The age-old question: WHY??

It’s possible, I think, that since they spent almost all of Petruccio’s childhood (and most of Gonzalo’s) relying on the villagers for food, there was a period of time where they didn’t eat very well. They could scavenge stuff from the remains of the village, but not for 8+ years. Some things would go bad faster than they could find and eat it.

And it probably didn’t occur to them that it would happen, until they started having trouble finding anything. So they had to learn how to hunt almost entirely on their own (aside from maybe getting some tips from the occasional traveler), and while they were hungry.

There may have been a point where they were hungry enough to eat just about anything.

Most likely, Petruccio couldn’t bear to see Gonzalo so miserable and hungry, and since they can easily regenerate, offered to let Gonzalo take a few bites from him. Gonzalo didn’t want to hurt him, but he was so hungry that he said he’d do it if Petruccio did the same to him. So it wasn’t just him getting something to eat and Petruccio getting hurt and continuing to starve. Petruccio didn’t like the idea of it, but decided that making sure Gonzalo ate something was more important.

It sustained them for a few more days. But eventually they were hungry again. And Gonzalo had a tentative suggestion.

Between them (mainly Gonzalo) being so young, and their minds and sanity being warped by the rings, they were kind of starting to like the taste. But I think it continued mainly because they got curious how different various areas of their bodies would taste; like different cuts of meat from the same animal. Bacon isn't quite the same as a pork chop, and those aren't quite like pork spare ribs, but it all comes from pigs. Chicken breast isn't quite the same as chicken wings. Etc.

Over time they got used to the feeling of literally having bites taken out of them and didn’t do more than wince, so it could've slowly become more of a regular thing.

And I think eventually it did turn into a bizarre and horrifying form of "we'll always have a piece of each other with us" and it did become a regular thing, even once they were able to regularly and reliably feed themselves and didn't have to go hungry.

If that is what happened, then they almost definitely won't have remembered how it started, because they've been doing it for over a fucking century. Petruccio's a bit more likely to remember, being older when it happened, but still.

"Moon why are you making them do this"

horror au

Also I want to see what happens if and when they snap out of it and get some goddamn therapy. the more fucked up stuff i pile on the more angst we get in recovery.

I'm especially curious to see if they'd actually stop the cannibalism entirely.

They both agree to it, they make sure not to grievously injure each other, they aren't getting sick from it.

I feel like it might somewhat depend on who their therapist is (they are a bonded pair. do not separate. attempting to will severely negatively affect the recovery process) and whether or not they even bother mentioning it.

It's been going for so long that I don't think they'd see any reason to stop, beyond deciding they don't feel like doing it anymore. If their therapist was like 'oh my god what the fuck' and harped on it being Very Bad, they'd probably stop eventually, but it'd probably take a lot of convincing because of aforementioned reasoning. What's the problem? They're not seriously hurting each other.

Whatever therapist they get is almost definitely going to be quite horrified by it regardless. But as I said; it's entirely consensual, they're not seriously harmed, and they can't get sick from it. Plus they just regenerate any parts of their body that get removed. Someone may decide that it's probably okay, even if it still freaks them out. And probably comes in to the next session with a bunch of resources to go over with the two to make sure they're being as safe as possible.

"wow you got deep into that"

IRL cannibalism is terrifying. But it's awesome in fiction. Excellent plot device, great way to make things more horrifying, can be a metaphor for a lot of stuff.

Consensual cannibalism (IRL) is in a particularly weird place in my brain where it's like. Okay. That's horrifying. but if it is totally consensual, and measures are taken to make sure it's as safe as possible, then...?

Consensual cannibalism in fiction is really fun to play with, for above mentioned reasons; especially the metaphor thing. also adding regeneration like Gonzalo and Petruccio's makes it a little more interesting. Is it less horrific because they're not slowly killing each other, or more horrific because they can theoretically do it forever?

[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

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

"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.