#miles morales suspended

[venusbloo]

Review: Miles Morales Suspended by Jason Reynolds & Zeke Pena

Book: Miles Morales Suspended  Author: Jason Reynolds, Zeke Pena (illustrator)  Pages: 320  Source: Library  Publisher: Atheneum/Caitlyn Dlouhy Books  Genre: Fantasy, Sci-fi, Young Adult  Publication Date: May 2, 2023  Goodreads Summary:  Miles Morales is still just your average teenager. He has unexpectedly become totally obsessed with poetry and can never seem to do much more than…

[quirkycatsfatstacks]

Review: Miles Morales Suspended: A Spider-Man Novel

Writer: Jason ReynoldsArtist: Zeke PeñaPublisher: Atheneum/Caitlyn Dlouhy BooksReleased: May 2, 2023Received: NetGalley Goodreads | More Marvel Books Book Summary: Miles Morales is not your typical teenager. He’s been juggling his superpowers with normal teenage aspects for a while, and it still hasn’t gotten any easier. Unfortunately, being a teen and a hero is tough, especially if you want…

[milimeters-morales]

a little game that Miles has is that whenever he gets the urge to sleep a certain way, like in a hole underground, he tries to figure out which spider does that and then researches that spider

[ramp-it-up]

Source: IG • @jasonreynolds83 This one is different.

May 2nd.

Shouts to the genius @zpvisual

[moralesmilesanhour]

The Spider Within: A Spiderverse Story (2024) // Miles Morales: Suspended by Jason Reynolds

[venuscrashed]

Prowler Miles Morales x Quiet reader

18 + blogs DNI

pt 2

Start:

At the beginning of school he didn’t really notice you, or at least payed attention. He didn’t really care, just trying to survive school without trouble.

But something about you was…alluring.

You didn’t talk nor listen to anyone. You were just there being in your own little bubble, not caring about the world.

It wasn’t until you were loud did you get his attention. No, not loud in the sense of screaming. But loud as in you bashed a kids head into the table.

Class had been going on for about 20 minutes now but it was torture. The kid behind you decided to mess with you. He was pulling your hair, clothes, taking your work and you tried your best to stop him but it just didn’t work. It wasn’t until you he stole your backpack did you get triggered.

You looked at him, staring at him as a way to tell him stop. He only looked back amused. “What?” He asked, “You gonna say something?”

You laughed, this idiot. You turned around full now. He was about to say something but before he could you grabbed his head and slammed down into the desk in-front of him. The noise echoed through the classroom, catching the attention of every student, including the teacher.

The teacher stood up and walked over to both of your desks. As part of their job they sent you to the office and took the kid to the nurse.

You were suspended.

That was the first time Miles payed attention to you.

He learned your name and quickly took a liking to you.

While you were suspended, Miles was stalking you in his Prowler costume. He made note of your everyday schedule, learning you favorite stores, hobbies, favorite places, etc.

He knew where you’d be and it was only by coincidence that he met you at the park. Right?

He went up to you and introduced himself. Hoping to be friends. You, of course, agreed.

Confession:

It took a while for you guys to start dating. Him being as emotional as a wall and all. But that didn’t stop him from catching feelings first.

He only noticed his feelings after you backed him up in a fight with some kid from your school.

Miles had no idea how to confess. He asked his mom what to do. He was so desperate he asked his uncle even!

After a while of thinking he just confessed to you outside of your window.

It was cold and windy and you were absolutely bored. You were just unsuspended and wee already at school for a week but that still didn’t stop your parents from ungrounding you. You had no phone or tv and no motivation to do anything. You were laying in your bed contemplating life until you heard a noise from your window.

You lifted your head, it was Miles. Miles, your only friend and reason to escape this boredom. Reluctantly, you got up from bed and opens your window.

“[Name].”

You hummed in response.

Miles was unusually hesitant. You couldn’t really tell but you could have sworn he was blushing. “[Name], I…” He took a deep breath before making eye contact, “I like you.”

Your eyes widened, you stared at him in shock, you couldn’t believe this. He was staring at you waiting for you to process this.

After a couple of minutes he asked a question. “Will you go out with me?”

You shook your head yes and that’s all he needed before he kissed you.

“[Name]-“ your mom walked in.

Dating:

You got grounded longer.

Although, your parents finally met Miles and somewhat approves if your relationship.

Miles is clingy. He’s always by your side or at least watching you from afar.

If anyone bothers you, he steps in and starts to talk back. You may have to hold him back if they get to personal.

He’s pretty quiet to but more vocal than you.

He does the talking for the both of you, talking for you in conversations with him and others.

If someone comments about how your quiet he’s already punching them.

If you ever get in trouble he’ll always try’s to take the blame.

When he introduces you to his mom and uncle he’s telling them everything about you, even when you leave.

“And [Name] looks good in purple, especially in winter time and-“

“Miles, I just wanted to know what their favorite color was not their whole life story.”

This man has his are wrapped around you all the time.

He likes to just lay there and watch a movie with you in his arms.

Sometimes he’ll listen to music with you and just tell you random stuff in his mind.

Overall he’s protective and quiet with you.

[yeagerfate]

YELLOW MORNINGS

Summary: Your parents make you ride on the bus on the first day at your new highschool. You soon realize that this bus is full of both kids you’re scared of and want to be friends with. Who’s on it, and what are they like? + Headcanons on what they’re like in school.

Warnings: None. This is fluff and slight crack! Also, reader is a minor in this and Miguel’s is platonic since he’s a grown ass adult and reader’s 15. (Every other character in this is assumed to be either 15 or 16.) Additionally, the sketchbook thing mentioned in Miles’ is a true story. That actually happened at my school LMFAO

Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Miles Morales (Earth-1610), Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar, and Gabriela O’Hara gets her own little feature in Miguel’s.

Notes: I’m a bit nervous for how this’ll go, but I’m excited for its reception, since I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone write this before. Anyways, thank you guys so much for all the love on my posts. From the bottom of my heart it means so so much to me. I have always loved writing, but it’s a hobby I’m really shy about. Your support really helps me come out of my shell more, which is greatly appreciated. You all are awesome and I love being in this fandom so much. It is so so much fun!

MIGUEL O’HARA

is the angry bus driver that beeps at you four times despite you walking towards the bus in his direct line of sight. He says “good morning” to you in a gruff, tired voice and tells you to just sit down and not cause trouble. As you walk in the aisle of the bus, you can see his daughter in the front seat right behind his, wearing the school uniform for the private elementary school down the street from your high school. She’s sipping on apple juice while holding a bag of chocolate chip mini muffins, staring out the window blankly. When he drops you off at the high school, he tells you to stay out of trouble. The questioning look you give him makes him sigh exasperatedly before telling you to have a good day. Maybe he isn’t so bad?

MILES MORALES

Is staring at the black sketchbook in his hands thoughtfully before he makes eye contact with you. He smiles politely and waves at you, but doesn’t say anything else. When you sit with him, he places the sketchbook on his lap and asks your name. He seems grateful for your presence and tells you it’s been ages since someone new has been assigned to this particular bus. Suddenly, he asks you for your schedule, and is elated when he sees you have biology class together. Though, he lets out a pitiful sigh when he sees who you have for Algebra II. “Good luck with her,” Miles says. “She took away my sketchbook last year because she thought it was a phone.” Miles is always asking you to go to his basketball games on the weekends. He’ll even give you his jersey to wear to cheer him on. Also, if you ever need help on homework, he’s your guy. Especially if it’s math related.

HOBIE BROWN

Has his expensive looking Sony headphones on, and his foot is bouncing to the beat of the song he’s listening to. He nods at you, and waves you over once he sees that all the other seats are taken. You are taken aback by his eccentric fashion style. He asks if you’re new. When you say yes, he tells you which teachers to specifically avoid. The next day, he brings in his earbuds so you both can listen to his music. Hobie is always snacking on the bus, and makes sure to bring you some food too, even if you already have some. Gets yelled at by Miguel for not sitting in his seat (He’s just tall. He does sit.) Even though he’s pretty much always a respectful student, he repeatedly arrives on the bus with detention slips for shadow boxing. Also got suspended for a week for piercing people’s noses in the bathrooms during third period. Oh well!

GWEN STACY

Is quietly scrolling on her phone before she makes eye contact with you. She’s the only other girl in the back of the bus, so you decide to sit with her. Gwen seems shy, so you are the one to make conversation. You quickly find out that she’s a catcher on the softball team and is in a band with Hobie, the kid in the seat next to yours. Gwen informs you of all of the school’s drama from the year before, including the time she got an ISS for giving girls ibuprofen for their period cramps. Regardless of this, she tells you, “I still have it in my bag. If you need it, just ask.” She also sends you the quizlets she makes for the Spanish class you have together. Frequently, Gwen gives you gum, but it is a silent exchange as to prevent the other students from asking for it as well. She is a very generous person.

PAVITR PRABHAKAR

Is fiddling with his bright school bag before he insists that you sit with him. He is a talker, and tells you all about himself. He urges you to join theatre for the winter musical, which is apparently “The best school event of the year!”. Pavitr is very involved with the school, and is the president of the theatre club, the secretary of the choir club, and is starting a culture club this year. He tells you to sit with him at lunch kindly. Though, his pleasant rant is interrupted when he tells you to avoid the lunch lady whose name is Linda. His reasoning is that, “She argued with me over chai tea.” which you laugh boisterously at. Although Pavitr has a somewhat ingenuous spirit, he forges your mother’s signature on a detention slip you got for going to the bathroom despite your English teacher’s hard “No.” He’s always going out of his way to help you!

WHAT IS IT LIKE TO BE FRIENDS WITH THEM?

Miles is known as one of the best players on the basketball team. Even though he doesn’t bounce it in the hallways, teachers are always telling him to put the basketball in his hands away, which irritates him to no end. Although teachers adore him, they always have to tell him to turn his phone off because it’s always buzzing from Snapchat notifications. He trades food with people at lunch and is on the Robotics team. Miles is one of the only two in the friend group who hasn’t gotten a detention. Is the only boy in your P.E. class who doesn’t treat it like the olympics and makes sure everyone has a good time. Cried once on FaceTime with you because out of stress he drew a dick on his AP Calc packet and forgot to erase it before turning it in. Unironically, Miles will play mermaids with you in the pool.

Hobie has both girls and boys fawning over him all the time, and people are constantly asking for his number. Never pays attention in class but passes. Hobie’s a “C’s get degrees” type of person, regardless of how well he does in school. For school spirit week, instead of bringing a backpack, he brings a Walmart shopping cart. Makes people laugh in class, but does it respectfully to not piss off the teacher. Teachers get sick of how often you pair up with each other for group projects but he tells them you’re a package deal and that you can’t be separated. Once you get your driver’s license, you make him check your parking jobs. He proceeds to ask you who gave you your license. Grew from 5’9 to 6’5 in the span of a school year and was always asking when second lunch was.

Gwen wasn’t on the bus last year, so she was introduced to the friend group because of her role on the theatre’s stage crew. It’s how she met Pavitr, who played the leading role in the Spring musical. To her dismay, her hydro-flask always falls off her desk, which makes such a loud clang she almost cries. Gwen’s locker is messy, with little magnets all over it. Has the best handwriting you’ve ever seen. Says random Disney bully quotes like, “I’ll kick you into next week if ya don’t give me your lunch!” when she sees you in the hallway. When she gets partnered up with you for a lab, she makes sure you finish before everyone else so you can just chill. Gwen always gets you a snack at the vending machine before any class you have together. She paints your nails in the back of the class.

Pavitr is a straight A student. People think he’s stuck in 2016 because he still wears those bands that you slap on your wrist. Gives people haircuts during break time, and wants to become a hairdresser when he’s older. During a fire drill he got yelled at because he stopped, dropped, and rolled for no reason. Tears fall from his eyes frequently because he holds in coughs in class. Jokingly put in a quote from the Lorax for his senior quote when he was on the yearbook team but forgot to take it out. His senior quote is, “Let it grow.” Pav fake falls in class but nobody suspects a thing because they think he’s innocent. He screamed with you when he saw a spider. Gets out of getting in trouble for being late because he got everyone Starbucks. (He got you a cake pop)

[tossawary]

Still in love with the fact that "Into the Spider-Verse" had Miles facing down the question of: "Can someone like him BE Spider-Man?" (Yes!) And then "Across the Spider-Verse" followed up with Miles facing down the question of: "Is there a specific way that you have to do being Spider-Man?" (And presumably "Beyond the Spider-Verse" will finish answering this.)

Because it definitely seems to be a point of conflict for legacy characters, not only to face pushback for whether they're allowed to step into the shoes at all, but to then face pushback for how they walk forward. If it's too similiar, then they get accused of copying and being boring. If it's too different, then it's accused of being too radical and unfaithful. They are constantly being compared to the original (to be fair, this is unavoidable with legacy characters, and I don't think comparison is inherently bad) and there often seems to be no way for them to "win" acceptance. There sometimes seems to be a general lack of compassion from audiences and an unwillingness to suspend disbelief in order to give them an honest chance.

Why does Miles Morales' Spider-Man need to follow the exact same life events and story beats as Peter Parker's Spider-Man? He's not Peter Parker. They had different pasts. They have different presents. Miles Morales deserves to explore a different way of being Spider-Man and new narratives. It's all so meta and so cool.

[helloitsghost]

Pest in the Side

Merry New Year and Happy Squealing Santa 2023 for @alexielve :D sorry it’s so late😭

Image ID:

A digital illustration depicting Miles Morales, Peter B Parker, and Mayday Parker from Into The SpiderVerse. Miles is suspended upside down from his webs. Peter is on the right, and Mayday is strapped to Peter by a baby carrier. Peter is tickling Miles on the armpit and Mayday on her foot while calling a friend explaining how he is tickling them to “teach them a lesson”. (Not shown) Miles and Mayday were bothering Peter repeatedly for attention so Peter retaliated. Miles is suspended in the air in hysterics trying to apologize to Peter through his laughter. And Mayday is giggling as her father tickles her foot.

Image Caption:

Peter: “Oh yeah don’t mix the kids, had to teach em a lesson.”

Miles: “EEEK- P-PETER I-IM SOREHEHEEHHEE AHAHAAH!”

I prob will reblog with a color update as I’m super happy with how it looks and it’s my first time drawing spiderverse :3

Special thanks to @squealing-santa and @hypahticklish for hosting!

[parisiterileymoon]

Miles morales x male reader (one sided)

Inspired by the end of “suspended” by Jason Reynolds. It’s so good go read it!

C/W:unrequited love, crushing on a straight guy, Miles x Alicia, angst with no happy ending, mild sexual references

~~

You’ve had a bad day. There’s no denying it. After a bad day, the next logical step is to see your best friend/supercrush, miles morales. It is usually frowned upon to walk into somone else’s dorm unannounced but Miles and Ganke had dubbed you an unofficial third roommate. You arrived at the door and opened it only to see something mortifying. Alicia kissing Miles. And Miles kissing Alicia. And Alicia kissing miles. And hands where hands shouldn’t be. His hands were all over here. All. Over. Her. Your vision went blurry and you backed out of the room. “I TOLD YOU TO LOCK THE DOOR!” You heard Alicia shout, followed by the sound of miles hitting the floor. You were hyperventilating a little. You looked around slinked to the ground. Tears welled up in your eyes as you stared at the closed door. Miles came out and sat on the floor next to you. “Sorry you had to see that, man.” He clears his throat. “Look (___), I know you got a thing for me.” You look at him with a deer in headlights look. “I’m sorry.” You didn’t know why you were apologizing. “It’s ok, you can’t control how who you catch feelings for.” He looks at you sympathetically. “I know. It just feels bad. Knowing that…no matter how hard you try you can never be with the person you’re in love with. It hurts.” Miles looks like he’s about to cry as a tear falls down your cheek. “You’re in love with me?” You can’t tell if he’s disgusted, flattered, or he just feels bad for you. “I said too much” he nods in agreement. “Yeah. I think you have.” You stand and begin to walk away, only to turn around to give him a chance to say something. He just walks back into his room to apologize to Alicia. You turn around and head to your room.

You’ve had a bad day.

~~

Hah suffer/j anyway if you see anything wrong with this plz let me know, I’m always looking to improve:)

[prismuffin]

Hello! I hope youre doing well, could I request a one-shot for Miles Morales.

-Miles just starts to attend Visions and Reader immediately takes him under their wing (bonus if reader is taller). And they like to fluster him and get him out of troubling situation, standing up for him when others that about him.

-eventually Miles asks why Reader was so nice from the beginning and without even hesitating their like "You're cute and akward, just my type" or something along those lines?

A/n: OOO I LOVE THIS IDEA!!! Reader is also depicted to be taller than Miles!! I literally changed the title like 3 times istg I have no clue what to name this so it has two titles

Protection / Confession

Miles Morales x gn!reader

( summary: you'd taken a liking to the new kid, Miles, and decided to take him under your wing )

Warnings?: some light bullying, reader having mad w rizz

!-!more under the cut!-!

You were a very well known person in Visions Academy. Not only for your high IQ but also for your kind and charming personality. You were chill and not as stuck up as some people in Visions, you were a breath of fresh air. Specifically the breath Miles needed when he felt like he was drowning in stress and expectations. You had told him he shouldn’t worry about what others are thinking and that he should just do his own thing at his own pace and man did he need to hear that. You showed him around school and the dorms and even let him sit with you and your friends during lunch. You were technically his first friend in Vision and you made him think that staying wouldn’t be too bad. Obviously he immediately took a liking to you and luckily you seemed to do the same for him, though he isn’t really sure why. Hell, the first time you ever met Miles he was attempting to smooth talk a hall monitor so that he didn't get in trouble for dashing through the halls. He wasn't very convincing though and you had decided to step in to save the day, and it’s been history ever since.

Every now and then Miles would find himself in trouble and almost every time, you were there to pull him out of it. Like now, where Miles finds himself cornered in a hallway with two high schoolers that look like they shouldn’t be in high school anymore. He let out a nervous chuckle as he stared up at the two guys. “Hey, maybe we can just talk this one out?” He smiles nervously and one of the guys scoffed “Not a chance.” The guy reeled his fist back and Miles closed his eyes and braced for pain but instead he felt nothing. He peaked out of one eyes and saw you standing there with the guys fist in your hand. “Hey let’s not resort to violence guys, it’s not cool.” You raised your brow at them as they both hesitated on what to do next. “Or do you want me to go get a supervisor and tell them about what’s happening here?” You continued. Both guys glanced at each other and Miles couldn’t help but smirk at the situation. “I’m sure you’d get suspended for this, maybe even expelled,” you shook your head and tsked. “You guys should know Visions has no tolerance when it comes to violence.” Miles watched as the guy who was going to punch him ripped his hand from yours before glaring and storming away, his friend following right after him. You watched them both disappear down the hallways before turning your attention to Miles, who was crouched on the ground watching the guys walk away.

You cleared your throat and his eyes immediately shot to yours. A sheepish smile graced his face and your stoic expression turned into a smirk as you nose laughed and shook your head at him. You held out your hand for him to take, which he did, and you lifted him off the ground. "So, mind telling me what you did this time?" You asked, looking down at Miles who was scratching the side of his head and looking to the side. "Not really.." You hummed and placed your hand on his head, leaning down to his height. Realistically you weren't that much taller than Miles but you loved to act like he was so much shorter than you. "How many more times are you gonna pick a fight with guys two times your size." "I wasn't picking a fight!" His eyebrows furrowed, "and they weren't two times my size!" He removed your hand from his head but didn't let go of it afterwards.

He bit the inside of his lip and started messing with your fingers, his expression softening. "Sorry," he mumbled and you blinked for a moment as his words rendered in your brain. "For what?" He shrugged and smiled though there wasn't any emotion behind it. His eyes darted around for a second before he sighed. "I just- you're always getting me out of stuff like that." He chuckled and quickly let go of your hand as if he just realized he'd been holding it. "oh.." You thought for a moment before smiling.

"Miles." He looked up at you, "It's fine man, you don't have to apologize or anything." "But doesn't it get annoying?" You shook your head, "Miles, it's fine I swear I don't mind helping you and sticking up for you whenever people talk about you," You gestured with your head towards the direction the two guys went, "or when they try and get physical with you." Miles couldn't help but smile at your words. "You don't think I could handle them?" Miles raised an eyebrow with a smirk on his face and you laughed. "Even if I thought you could," You grabbed his chin, "I wouldn't be able to live with myself if your pretty face got all scratched up." You talked in a baby voice and chuckled as Miles' eyes widened. "Pretty?" He spoke loud and quick as if what he said just shot out of his mouth. You let go of his chin, "oh yeah why do you think I've been protecting you so much?" You stood up straight and stretched, "You were so cute when I first saw you, standing there all awkward like you are now." You rested your head on your arms and looked at him through the corner of your eye. "The first time I ever saw you my first thought was about how you looked like my type." You smirked and dropped your arms, turning fully towards him. "Then I saw you in the hallway that day trying to talk yourself out of a referral and I just had to help out." You stuck your hands in your pocket as you watched Miles process everything in his brain. He watched your every move with wide eyes and after a beat of silence you just sighed with a smile and started walking down the hallway. "Wait!" You heard Miles scurrying up to you. "So this- Are you- I'm-" He stopped talking and took a shaky breath. "Did you just confess to me? Was that a confession?" He asked and you shrugged. "Do you want it to be?" Another silence fell over the both of you. "..Yeah..." He said and your smile grew. "Then yes, it was a confession." He smiled at you, "I guess that this means it's my turn to confess now?" You nodded, "Yes, that would be ideal."

----!----

Thanks for reading! Have a great day/night!!

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Masterlist

[asterkallium]

what is the pale blue dot?

Pale Blue Dot is a photograph of Earth taken on February 14, 1990, by the Voyager 1 space probe from an unprecedented distance of approximately 6 billion kilometers (3.7 billion miles, 40.5 AU), as part of that day's Family Portrait series of images of the Solar System.

In the photograph, Earth's apparent size is less than a pixel; the planet appears as a tiny dot against the vastness of space, among bands of sunlight reflected by the camera. Commissioned by NASA and resulting from the advocacy of astronomer and author Carl Sagan, the photograph was interpreted in Sagan's 1994 book, Pale Blue Dot, as representing humanity's minuscule and ephemeral place amidst the cosmos.

Carl Sagan comments on what he sees as the greater significance of the photograph, writing:

From this distant vantage point, the Earth might not seem of any particular interest. But for us, it's different. Consider again that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there – on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam. The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves. The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand. It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.

Earthrise is a photograph of Earth and part of the Moon's surface that was taken from lunar orbit by astronaut William Anders on December 24, 1968, during the Apollo 8 mission. Fifty years to the day after taking the photo, William Anders observed, "We set out to explore the moon and instead discovered the Earth."

[moralesmilesanhour]

what you're searching for.

summary: Margo goes to a shitty poetry slam and gets more out of it than she expects. wc: 4.9k warnings: alcohol consumption, and it's like very VERY lightly implied that they had an Adult Sleepover if you get my meaning. Nothing really too suggestive in here I promise. One singular reference to a tiktok. a/n: this took me a whole ass week but I'm very proud of where my writing style is going! somewhat inspired by the film 'Love Jones'. If you enjoyed this pls feel free to leave your thoughts or your favorite line if you have one! EDIT: OH MY GOD I FORGOT TO ADD: the first poem is actually taken from the Junior novel 'Miles Morales: Suspended' by Jason Reynolds! The poem at the end is mine though lmao I'm not the best poet

Margo can’t stand poetry.

Someone gets up in front of you with a piece of paper clutched in their hands, and recites what is simultaneously the most vague and the most painfully obvious string of fragmented sentences you’ve ever heard as if they’d just touched your soul.

It’s not rapping, not preaching, but the ugly middle child standing between them. Some odd bastardization of music for people who thought they were too smart for either of the first two, but weren't brave enough to just give speeches.

Speeches, at least, are coherent, specific, and can be scrutinized.

So far, sitting in the front row of the bar that her classmate Zoe had invited her to for poetry night, no one has changed her mind. 

Tonight’s performances consisted of an assembly line of men (and a couple of women) in vintage sweaters ranting about their exes to the rhythm of bongo drums, or some mildly relevant social issue that none had the lexicon to really say anything in stanzas that hasn’t already been said. She had heard nothing yet that sounded much more profound than an Instagram post.

Although, one girl had come up and recited a short poem about her late mother that Margo thought was quite sweet, and the least tortuous to sit through.

The crowd erupted in snaps again for a poet with long braided dreads and an ankh tattoo whose words she had tuned out. The host took the mic and announced the final (thank god) participant:

“Now this next one I had to practically drag over here to get him to share his beautiful poetry with us tonight. Everyone, please give a warm welcome to one of my close friends and colleagues, Miles Morales!”

A lanky young man–Margo suspects about six feet even, given the way he’s towering over the host–awkwardly shuffles over to the center of the stage, offering the crowd a tight-lipped smile. 

He’s in a plain green sweater with the sleeves hastily rolled up to his elbows and a bomber jacket tied around his waist. As soon as he’s handed the microphone, it seems to dawn on him that there’s no turning back, and his body visibly tenses. 

He clearly just got here, and for once Margo doesn’t know what to expect.

Squinting beneath the bright spotlight, he clears his throat and speaks into the mic. 

“Um, hi.”

A few scattered ‘hi’s from the crowd.

There’s something bright and sweet in the tone of his voice that makes him sound a little boyish, and she wonders what he could possibly have under his sleeve that warranted him getting dragged up here last minute.

He takes a deep breath.

“It’s said

That nobody

Is ever more

Than ten feet

From a spider.”

Miles began the poem carefully, like he was confessing something. 

“They be everywhere you and me are.”

A few members of the crowd laugh, others shudder at the thought and frown. 

“And even though

We see them only

When they big enough to see, or when

They move,

Like a cursor

Across the blank white

Page of a wall…”

His voice loses some of its airiness in exchange for confidence as he recites the rest of the poem, and Margo realizes that he isn’t reading off of anything. 

Either he’s improvising, or he has it entirely memorized.

“Or when we trip

The web-like wire

Of a booby trap

Or when they

Fang our flesh

We should probably

Assume most

Just be right there…”

Miles paused and looked somewhere far beyond the crowd, lifting his arm to point to the back of the room. Then he repeated:

“Right there,

Right here,”

He gestures toward the front row, where his eyes land directly on Margo. It’s not so close to the stage that she can tell for sure, but she thinks she sees a hint of a smile cross his lips.

“Looking at us,

Looking over them.”

Silence. 

His arm falls limply to his side as his eyes frantically scan the audience, searching for some kind of response. 

Then, someone begins to clap. Then another. Then another. WIthin moments, the entire room erupts in applause, causing a shy smile to spread across the young man’s face.

“Uh, thank you!” he says, surprised at the positive reception, before shrinking into himself again and leaving the stage the same way he came.

The host returns and takes the mic from him.

“Miles Morales, everybody!”

-

After the poetry slam, Margo insisted that Zoe take her to the sushi place across the street. It had a bar sitting off to the side, one with significantly less poets. The decorative lights hung directly above the shelf filled with glass bottles and shrouded them in cherry red.

Zoe takes a sip of her sherry and leans in.

“Sooo, how was it?”

“It was a’ight.”

The light-skinned girl’s lips pull into a pout. “Seriously?”

“Hey, I told you poetry wasn’t my thing,” Margo pauses, then amends, “I liked the last guy, though. Breath of fuckin’ fresh air.”

“Right? His style really caught my attention, subtle.”

“Glad you liked it.”

Zoe’s eyes widened as she glanced just beyond Margo’s shoulder.

When Margo turned towards the familiar voice and froze. 

The poet in question was standing just inches away, a friendly smile gracing his features. His jacket is no longer around his waist, neatly folded over his arm like an expensive coat. He is with the excitable darker-skinned man who’d just hosted the event, and a man the shade of sandalwood standing just behind him.

They’re both wearing the same type of muted cardigan as Miles, but they’ve got actual coats.

“Y’all were in the front, right?” Miles asks the both of them, though he’s only looking at Margo.

She nods wordlessly. Zoe picks up the slack.

“M-hm, you were great up there! You’ve really never shown anyone your work ‘till tonight?”

Miles snorts at the wording of the phrase. ‘His work’.

“I wrote that poem in high school,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Wasn’t supposed to be anything serious, but my roommate…” 

He gives the dark-skinned man a dirty look. 

“...swiped my journal and found it. Told me I should read it out loud somewhere.”

Margo examines Miles’ face and imagines him as a baby-faced high-schooler, sitting in the back of the classroom with a protective arm around the beat-up red composition notebook he’s writing in. He stuffs it in his bag as soon as he’s done, because he has just poured his heart out onto that page, and his crush’s name is in there. Maybe there are tiny doodles of her in the margins.

“Yo,” the sandalwood-colored man claps Miles on the shoulder. “We about to hit up Tiff’s place, you coming?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Miles nods dismissively. “I’ll catch up with y’all.”

The two other men give each other a knowing look before brushing past him.

“Alright man, catch you later then.”

Once she finally regains the ability to speak, Margo remarks, “You were the only performance I really liked, if I’m being honest.”

“Is that so?” 

“Oh yeah, this one hates poetry,” Zoe places a hand on Margo’s shoulder and laughs. “Tried to change her mind by bringing her over here, but no dice.”

Miles raised an eyebrow. “What made mine so different?”

“Hm, I dunno…” Margo’s eyes float over his form before making their way back up to his face. “Your delivery, I guess.”

Safe to say, he looks amusedly unconvinced.

“My…delivery.”

She catches herself and quickly adds, “I-I mean, it also kinda felt like everyone else was trying too hard. So.”

He tilts his head at the remark.

“Are you just saying that to flatter me?”

.“I don’t flatter people. Too close to lying.”

“That sounds like half a poem already. Maybe you should go up there next week.”

She gives him a lopsided smile.

“Only if you’re there. I need something to actually look forward to.”

His tongue darts out and passes over his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“Margo.”

Miles hums, softly repeating the name before inching his way over to the counter where he leans his hip on it.

“Pretty. Can I buy you a drink, Margo?”

She doesn’t think her name is all that pretty, but he makes it sound that way.

“Knock yourself out.”

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Zoe teases as she rises from her seat. “I’m gonna go order us some sushi.”

Miles takes the stool to Margo’s left as he waits on their drinks, his long legs never needing to leave the ground to do so.

He has a funny way of sitting, hands folded neatly in front of him with his back just a few degrees off from being perfectly straight. As if you needed to look distinguished at a sushi bar.

Church boy, Margo guessed. That, or his daddy’s a military man.

It’s adorable either way.

“You in school?” she asked.

“Yup. Princeton.”

Her eyes lit up.

“Oh shit, me too! I’ve never seen you on campus, though. What’s your major?”

“Physics. You?”

“Comp Sci. Been coding since I was in middle school, so…”

Margo remembers the echoing ‘click-clack’ of her keyboard as she sat in an empty computer lab for hours on end after school because she preferred it to her parents’ house.

The bartender hands Miles two glasses of white wine, and he sets the second glass in front of Margo, his warm eyes still focused on her. 

She’s intrigued by how clear they are - no trace of suspicion or calculation behind them. Just the warmth.

“So, where you from? My folks are over in Brooklyn.”

“Georgia.”

Miles’ brows jump to his hairline.

“Damn. What brought you all the way up here?”

To get as far away as possible. 

“Well, it’s Princeton,” she says beneath a forced laugh.

“Yeah, but you got, like, eight different HBCUs over there. How’d Princeton win you over?”

Margo breaks eye contact to stare into her drink.

“Needed a change of pace.”

When she looks up to gauge Miles’ reaction, skepticism is written all over his face. But he doesn’t push it further.

“That’s fair. Princeton’s got a cutting-edge quantum physics program that I’m aiming for. Had to beg my parents to come here,” he grins proudly, “but here I am.”

Margo is silent for a moment.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks suddenly, beckoning Miles to lean in.

“Yeah?”

Grinning, she half-whispers, “I’m actually here on a scholarship.”

He gives her an odd look. 

“Why’d you say it like that? Nothin’ wrong with getting a full ride. The opposite, actually.”

“Some people might feel otherwise. You’re like, the second person I’ve told other than my parents.”

“And why me?” Miles chuckles. “My poetry was just that good?”

“I just…Hm.”

Margo leans back and takes a contemplative sip of her wine, watching him over the rim of her glass. 

Why did she just tell him that?

“I guess I just sorta felt like telling you.”

Margo cautiously sets the wine back down. She figures if she’s not careful, he’ll have her full government name and social security number by the end of the night.

“Y’know, I actually get that a lot,” Miles laughs. “One time, I had this lady I was standing in line with at Target turn around and just start telling me stories about her dead son and how much she misses him. And it’s like, I’m sorry for your loss, but we’re in Target right now and I literally do not know you.”

“Wait, people just go up to you and…tell you shit?”

“Yup. There was this other time at church, too. Just as service ends and I’m about to get up and leave, this short old dude–Dominican, I think–stops me and starts telling me about his entire life. I’m talking start to finish! Apparently I reminded him of his nephew that died in the military or something.”

“Jesus.”

A crease forms between Margo’s brows. She wishes she could say she didn’t understand the old man at church or the lady at Target, but she does. No, it’s not the poetry. It’s got nothing to do with words. 

It’s the way that Miles looks at people. 

Like he already knows all of your secrets, but you’re not worried because they’re safe with him, so might as well tell them. It’s a merciful sort of gaze; you get the impression that he won’t judge you. You might even tell him more after his friendly ‘boy-next-door’ voice coaxes them out of you. The thought unsettles her because she had done just that.

“You ever had a girlfriend before?” She asks, all of a sudden.

Miles shrugs, “Yeah, in tenth grade, then again freshman year. Didn’t really work out.”

“Why not?”

His brows furrow gently for just a second, as if he’s still trying to figure out the answer to that.

“I…don’t know, actually. It goes well the first few months and then…”

“It fizzles out?”

“I get ghosted. Something about how they’re ‘not ready’. Understandable, I guess, but you don’t have to ghost me, y’know?”

He awkwardly examines his fingers, then his glass. 

Margo feels a bit guilty for suddenly bringing up his exes when they’d just met. Would they end up the same way? She saw herself there too, being in a relationship for six months before his weird pastor’s eyes get to be a bit too much and she takes off.

“Yikes, sorry I asked.”

“It’s no problem,” a smile starts to return to his face. “Onto better things, right?”

“Right.”

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“You ever been in a relationship before?”

Margo smiles awkwardly and messes with one of her fingernails.

“Well…not exactly.”

Miles’ eyes widen.

“Never?”

“I mean, guys offer, and then we talk for a little bit, but then…”

“They flake out on you.”

“Pretty much.”

“Damn shame,” he says with a bit of sharpness to his voice. “Not even a first date?”

“Nope, just ‘Read at 4:15’.”

“You know what I think it is?”

Just as he asks this, his knee brushes against her thigh. Margo isn’t sure if it’s an accident, but it distracts her nonetheless.

“What?”

“You’re too smart for them, I can tell. It scares ‘em.” But it doesn’t scare me, is the suggestion.

He smiles then, the kind that shows the whiteness of his teeth on every vowel. It’s wide enough that a dimple comes out of hiding on his left cheek, and she suddenly wants to tell him everything again. She takes another sip of wine.

“So! What’d I miss?”

Zoe finally returns from ordering their sushi at the front with an expectant grin. Miles still hasn’t taken his eyes off of her friend, while she is staring at him like a string of code, which, if you know Margo, is better than nothing.

“You didn’t miss much,” says Margo. “We were just talkin’ about our majors. School stuff.”

Miles checks his phone and lets out a low whistle.

“Well, it was lovely meeting y’all, but I gotta bounce. After getting dragged onstage, I get to be dragged over to a house party, too.”

Just as he rises from his seat, he stops and points at her.

“Before I go, though, d’you mind giving me your digits? I’d love to talk about, uh…computer science…over lunch.”

She snorts, “Who still says ‘digits’?” but hands him her phone anyway. 

It couldn’t hurt to try. 

“Sure.”

His eyes light up as if he wasn’t expecting her to say yes as he saves his number as ‘poetry slam guy’ in her phone, then hands it back.

“Cool,” Miles begins his walk towards the entrance backwards, holding eye contact for just a little longer before turning around. “G’night!”

“Goodnight!” the two women call out in unison as he leaves.

Margo looks to her left at the now-empty bar stool. The glass of wine Miles left on the counter is full, completely untouched.

It’s still on her mind as she's sitting in her single dorm room, re-writing her lecture notes on cyber security in a meticulous neat print that could almost pass for a font.

Every few minutes her pen stops because she’s distracted by the sound of clinking glass in boxes downstairs, or because she pauses to stare at the white wall in front of her that brings to mind one of the lines of Miles’ poem. 

There might be a spider that I can’t see sitting ten feet away from me right this second, she muses to herself. The thought gives her an idea, and the perfect excuse to call him without seeming too desperate.

Margo unlocks her phone and scrolls through her contacts. She smiles to herself at the contact name Miles chose. Did he think she’d forget his name that easily? 

His voice soon filters through the speaker.

“Hey, you didn’t throw out my number!”

“Yup, lucky you.” she replies. “I wanted to ask you a question? About your poem the other night.”

“What about it?”

“See, I was thinking about that first line. Are we really never more than ten feet away from a spider? Like, at any given moment?”

There’s a moment of silence from Miles before he asks:

“You…called me just to ask me that?”

“What? It’s a very pressing issue! There’s probably one in the corner  of my room as we speak!”

“Alright, I’ll humor you,” Miles laughs. “That’s actually a myth from the 90s. Your distance from the nearest spider really depends on where you’re at, so if you’re in a spot with hella bugs, you’re more likely to see one. You’re probably fine.”

“Now wait just a minute!” Margo gasps dramatically. “So you lied to all those poor folks in there?”

“Sure did. Played ‘em all like a fiddle.”

“Terrible.”

“So, why’d you really call? You don’t sound as concerned about spiders as you say you are, if I’m being honest.”

So much for an excuse.

“Don’t nothing get past you, huh?”

This earns a burst of laughter from Miles’ end.

“You’re a worse liar than me, I wouldn’t recommend making it a habit.”

“Ugh, fine,” Margo admits,  “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You could hear my voice in real life, you know. Offer’s still on the table, and I’m free today.”

Their second conversation, and already a lunch date? But as she’s reminded of what his voice sounds like, she quickly realizes that just the voice is not enough. 

Still, she tries to sound casual and makes a non-committal noise.

“Better than being cooped up in my room all day.”

“Great! Where you wanna go?”

Margo shrugs as if he can see her on the other end.

“Wherever you wanna go.”

“Ah, the ‘wherever you wanna go’ paradox,” he chuckles. “Okay, well–lemme ask you this then. Do you like eating with or without music?”

There’s a beat of silence as she considers.

“Hm…is the music good?”

“I’d never subject anyone to a place that plays shit music. Promise.”

“Music, then.”

“Cool, what time works for you?”

“How does two sound? I’ll catch you in front of the Engineering Library.”

“Bet. See you in an hour, then!”

-

The place Miles chose had a live band playing at the front.

A bass player, a keyboard pianist, a saxophonist, and a few background vocalists on occasion. All are propelled forward by the rapid-fire snare of the drummer. It’s jazz - the easy, conversational kind you hear in the background of 90s romantic comedies where the love interest wears nothing but dark lip liner and filled-in brows with a bit of smokey eyeshadow in the crease.

This is the look that Margo has decided to go for as she sits across from Miles at a mahogany table positioned ideally by the window.

It was all she could do other than frantically adjust the braided 'fro-hawk sitting atop her head and spin around in a mist of ‘Champagne Toast’ before bolting out the door.

She doubts he can even smell it right now through the curry and garlic.

“Figured out what you want yet?” Miles asks as he looks over his menu at Margo.

“Eh, I dunno,” she replies, running her index finger down her own menu. “I’m tryin’ not to blow half my paycheck on pasta right now.”

Miles gives her a strange look, then it clicks.

“Oh! Lunch is on me,” he laughs. “Your bank account’s safe for now.”

Her head snaps up.

“You should’ve mentioned that! I thought we were going half and half this whole time, I had my whole budget for the week planned out.”

Margo has to hold back an ugly cackle at the look of horror on Miles’ face right after she says this.

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that.”

With this new information in mind, she orders a bowl of chicken alfredo with a glass of lemonade that she sips on as the band seamlessly transitions into a cover of Solange’s ‘Cranes in the Sky’.

“So, Margo,” Miles rests his chin on his knuckles and squints his eyes comically. 

“If that is your real name.”

Margo giggles, and plays along.

“It’s not, it’s my alter-ego for when I go on top-secret missions.”

“Is it short for something? Or just Margo?”

“Hm,” she puts on an affected, ‘action movie’ voice, “If I tell you, I might have to kill you.”

“It’s worse ways to die out there.”

Margo looks around her as if to make sure no one’s listening, then leans in.

“It’s short for Marguerite.”

Miles snaps his fingers.

“I knew it!”

“What? You think I look like a Marguerite? Seriously?”

“No, but you got a lil’ country twang in your voice. Ain’t no way in hell Margo wasn’t short for something.”

“Man, alright,” she laughed. 

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” he winked, “I like ‘em country.”

“Boy, don’t give me that! You look like you’d pass out at the sight of a jar of pig’s feet.”

“Hey now, I got family in South Carolina. I used to go down there and see about ten of those every summer.”

“Fine, but you were still raised a Northerner. I could hear the Brooklyn from a mile away.”

Miles removed his hand from under his chin to clutch his chest.

“Ugh, I feel like I’m caught between two worlds!”

The reference to one of the more choice lines from the poetry slam makes Margo snort and let out a loud guffaw, which she quickly muffles with the palm of her hand.

“Why would you remind me of that!”

Miles is soon infected by the fit of laughter and has to put all his strength into not doubling over at the table and drawing attention.

“This nigga said,” he wheezed, “ ‘I keep doing the Achy Breaky to Suavemente!’ “

“I thought I was the only one who thought that shit sucked,” Margo sighed as she wiped a tear from her eye. “But I didn’t wanna be mean ‘cuz I’m not like, half Puerto Rican, or anything like that.”

“Well I am, and that whole poem felt like a microaggression. And I knew that guy!” He starts gesturing wildly with his hands at the outrage, which Margo finds hilarious. 

“He's like, one-eighth Boricua. His last name is fuckin’ Schwartz!” Miles scoffs, “He don’t know shit about no damn ‘Suavemente’. Bet he looked it up.”

“You should write your own poem, then. ‘Take up space’, as they say.”

“Hell no,” he said. “I left that behind in high school. The other night was an exception, remember?”

“Look, I’m not one to encourage more people to become poets, but you never know. Something might inspire you.”

Miles calms down and gives her a meaningful look.

“Maybe.”

The rest of the conversation saw Miles slyly gathering intel through bites of roasted chicken. He’d quickly learned from their meeting at the bar that his line of questioning with Margo ought to be less direct.

He even hit her with the ‘what’s your sign’ question, though Biggie would’ve advised against it (Margo was a Libra, he was a Leo). He didn’t actually care for astrology, but Margo wasted no time in proclaiming that she couldn’t stand Scorpios because they were ‘too nosy’. 

Miles’ only error was asking if she’d ever dated–correction–spoken to one, and her eyes hardened with suspicion again. He quickly elected to change the subject.

“Okay, totally random question, but humor me. How do you like your eggs?”

Margo blinks twice.

“What?”

“You heard me. You can tell a lot about a person by what kinda eggs they like, true shit.”

“Alright, fine. I like ‘em fried, with the crispy edges. What that say about me?”

“I dunno, but when I find out it’ll all make sense.”

Margo laughs.

“Okay, well, how do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled, fluffy,” A childish grin spread across Miles’ lips. “And seasoned with Adobo to make ‘em all orange.”

“Never had ‘em like that before.”

“Maybe I could make some for you sometime, if you’d let me.”

“Maybe.”

She remembers his promise a month later when she wakes up to the aroma of the seasoning and hears the pop of frying oil, letting out a sigh of relief at the realization that Miles is still there.

His back is facing her when she enters the kitchen, the morning light illuminating a tattoo she had never seen before. 

It’s a spider with sprawling legs that cascade all the way down the expanse of skin, the movement of his shoulder blades bringing them partially to life. She hadn’t noticed it in the dark, and he was not one to walk around in anything revealing enough for it to have ever seen daylight. It’s faded, which means he’s likely had it for years.

He’s only twenty-one, she thinks. Did he get it in high school?

Amusement creeps onto Margo’s face at the image of Miles sneaking around the house, darting in and out of the bathroom to clean it without his hawk-eyed mother or straight-edged father taking notice. Picturing this, it’s suddenly much easier to believe that their son would have to beg and plead for them to send him a measly forty-six miles away for school, even for an Ivy League. 

Miles doesn’t turn around yet, but Margo catches the way he stops, tilting his head playfully and placing a hand on his hip.

“Man, I can’t believe I’mma have to eat this whole thing of scrambled eggs all by myself, with the ones I just fried! How sad.” “You’re not very funny,” Margo says with a smile, pulling out a chair from beneath the dining table.

He switches the stove off, then does a dramatic spin to face her with fake surprise on his face.

“Oh! Where’d you come from? I didn’t see you there.”

He turns back around to grab two plates–ceramic ones, not the stack of styrofoam ones–from one of the cupboards to serve the eggs in, starting with fried.

Margo watches him silently. The tiny, squint-or-you-might-miss-it gold chain around his neck catches the light as he moves, and she remembers feeling the cold metal brush across her lips.

“The fried ones, are they–”

“Crispy at the edges?” he finishes, with a smile in his voice. “Yes ma’am!”

“You could really be a detective, can’t get nothing past you.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“See?”

The two burst into laughter, and the ink on Miles’ back does also. His poem was accurate, in a way. For the past five weeks, Margo has been no more than ten feet away from a spider.

They have a brief and quiet breakfast, wherein Margo finally asks to try the scrambled eggs and is delighted by the burst of flavor added by the Adobo. They aren’t too dry or too soggy the way they tend to be in restaurants - just fluffy, as promised. She thinks it might be time to finally start taking Miles at his word as she watches his back again while he’s washing dishes.

Once he is fully dressed and about to leave, Miles stops suddenly, as if he’s forgotten something. He reaches into the left pocket of his jacket and pulls out a neatly-folded sheet of paper, nervously running his other hand through the short dreads sitting atop his head.

“Before I leave, I, uh…I took your advice and wrote a lil’ something.”

He hands it to Margo, who takes it gingerly. 

“Well, good for you.”

“It’s been a while, so it’s kinda rough, but hopefully the sentiment is there.”

Miles plants a quick kiss on her cheek, and she smiles easily for once as opposed to the usual raised eyebrow.

“I’ll be sure to let you know if it is.”

Some time after he leaves, she finally sits down to read it while sipping on a cup of tea, because coffee wreaks havoc on her nerves. His handwriting is strange, overly graphic as if it’s the title card of a cartoon, but she reads it.

I know you don't like poetry 

but you said you liked mine,

and the way you sip your wine

has set my pen to paper,

so I hope 

you'll make another exception. 

You've already claimed

half of my sketchbook 

because I just can't get your eyes right.

I always make ‘em too soft,

or too round.

They don't pierce through me,

like they did when

you stared at me over your glass,

eyes narrowed.

When you search my face

and pick me apart,

I'd like to know what it is 

you're always searching for.

[katiebug586]

Honestly, it's criminal how underrated Pelswick is. As a cartoon created by a disabled cartoonist, it's incredible how pro-disability and anti-ableist it is. The entire moral of Pelswick is essentially 'Treat me like you would a normal person, you weirdos', with it not afraid to delve into the inherent issue with infantilizing disabled people and how some people act all righteous but are really just being performative.

I re-watched "Hear No Evil, PC No Evil" last night (Yes, the PC does indeed stand for 'politically correct') and I don't think it stuck with me that much when I first watched it a couple years ago, but wow. The plot is basically that Pelswick's dad is seeing a supposedly multi-ethnic woman named "Spagna", who turns out to be one of the most infantilizing characters I think I've ever seen on TV. She refuses to see Pelswick as a kid who happens to use a wheelchair, instead acting as if he's helpless and needs everything done for him because he's such a 'poor, helpless' boy. She ends up accidentally 'Sigmund Freuding' herself into calling Pelswick the C-word when he rightfully tells her off for treating him like he's some kind of fucking charity case, then loses her shit because how dare she say the c-word, (like yeah, you shouldn't, but there's a couple of other things you need to work on first, lady) and scrubs her mouth with a soap she conveniently has on hand and leaves the house sobbing. Pelswick's dad immediately says he's breaking up with her after she leaves. Not for the c-word comment, I don't think, but "have you ever seen somebody so PC in all your life?".

I vaguely remember there being another episode where Pelswick got suspended because he refused to make his ventriloquist dummy or whatever they were with a wheelchair because gasp! he sees himself as himself, and doesn't base his whole character and personality on being paralyzed. There was another where he couldn't go on a school field trip to go camping because of his wheelchair, even though Pelswick does snidely remark that he's the only kid who couldn't accidentally get paralyzed.

Not ALL of the episodes involve Pelswick being infantilized though, there's plenty of episodes that revolve around him being a kid and doing dumb kid shit without his wheelchair being brought into question other than it just being there, which I think adds to the point I was trying to make with the three episodes I mention. However, when the subject/issue DOES come up, Pelswick doesn't just nod his head and take it, he ends up giving out various clapbacks (sometimes with the help/vague advice of his guardian angel, Mr. Jimmy) to them. And more likely than not, these people end up outing themselves as being ableist shitheads anyway.

Pelswick does need some aid/help, his house has an elevator installed so he can get to the second floor, and a ramp he can use instead of steps, but that's miles better than just assuming he needs everything done for him.

Anyway, if you enjoy good disabled representation and want a recommendation, watch Pelswick.

[mintaikk]

My school's library app has a section on banned books, and I want to list some of the books that were banned in other schools and why I think they were banned

Skippyjon jones -You know, the children's book about a weird dog cat think? Yeah, that was banned. I'm assuming it's because the dog/cat thing is Mexican

Miles Morales: Suspended (Jason Reynolds) -Miles is black

Rick (Alex Gino) -Rick is LGBT so obvious no :(

Perfect Mexican Daughter - The girl is Mexican

I Am Jazz (Jessica Herthel, Jazz Jennings) - it teaches kids about trans people, which is an OBVIOUS no no 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️ (heard about this girl before and I think her book is adorable. It's a picture book and a good way to teach young kids about the existence of trans people)

Anne Frank's diary -Nazis, I assume, but honestly probbaly Jewish people as well. God forbid history

The Rebellious Life or Mrs. Rosa Parks (Jeanne Theoharris) -She made white people look bad

The Magic Fish (Trung Le Ngyuen) -The kid is Asian. Ya know, I'm starting to see a pattern of the books their banning

Ban This Book (Alan Gratz) -About a 4th grade black girl fighting book bannings. Can't give those kids ideas 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️

All Are Welcome (Alexandra Penfold) - a literal children's picture book with short poems on accepting people of different backgrounds. I'm not making this up. That was banned

And Tango Makes Three (Justin Richardson, Peter Parnell) -NO I LOVE THESE TWO PENGUINS NOO!!!! It's about REAL LIFE PENGUINS at the Central Zoo Park who were gay and adopted a daughter at a zoo. It's a picture book and a children's book. Jesus Christ, book bans

Hood Feminism (Mikki Kendall) -A book about black feminism. Was banned for obvious reasons

There's more but there's literally hundreds of books there. I'll probably renlog later when I feel like looking again

[amaiguri]

Amaiguri's Tumblr Intro

How's it going? <3

My name is Belle aka. Amaiguri. I'm a narrative designer and game writer but in my spare time... I also make Things TM -- I write fantasy fiction, I make YouTube videos, I draw, and bumble through arts-n-crafts! And worldbuilding is like frosting to me; I love trying to create plausible cultures in fantastical settings! Like, yes, take me to a fantasy land with beaked dragon-like fire elementals and continents suspended a mile into the air by stone pillars but then tell me what they eat and show me the etymology of their languages. I wanna know how those languages relate to politics and power and morality and in-universe storytelling! <3 <3 <3

Admittedly, I don't know what I'm doing here cuz I'm fleeing Twitter... Please educate me on Tumblr culture -- I am fascinated. I feel like I understand Tumblr culture as well as I understand Japan: Through cultural artifacts rather than through actually being here.

I'll probably focus my Tumblr blog on writing and Worldbuilding -- especially for this fantasy, community Worldbuilding project I founded, called Yssaia. (Besides, I need a new place to host all the images O_O)

So, yeah, come be my friend! I like friends and it's harder to make those as an Adult TM now. (I'm over 21, if that's the sort of thing that worries you.) If I do something that makes you die inside, understandable.

But yeah, please say "Hi!" if I sound cool and you wanna be my writer/worldbuilding buddy!