#THIS IS WHY YOU HAVE TO PAY ATTENTION IN SCHOOL

[rosiewitchescottage]

We have a 14 year girl whose mother died shortly after her birth. Her father married again. We don't find out how long after it was that he died. But given Queen Grimhild's character, it's not hard to guess that she had a 'magical' hand in it.

She got The Power of being sole ruler. Playing 'mother' to another woman's daughter was clearly not on her list.

What age was Snow White relegated to 'Scullery Maid' status? My guess is that it was when puberty hit, and it was clear that she was going to be a stunningly beautiful woman with the sweetest nature.

Grimhild wants two things, the power of being Queen and to be regarded as the most beautiful woman around.

I doubt that she wants to remarry, that would mean sharing power, after all. But she doesn't want to see any other woman getting so much as admired.

The 1937 Disney Snow White appears to be set in Medieval Europe, so we can assume that when Snow White got to 14, her father would have been sorting out a marriage for her.

With him out of the way, Grimhild can make sure that Snow White is seen by no one but servants and animals.

Snow White is lonely, and that's a serious state to be in. At the wishing well, what does she ask for? She longs for someone to love her and speak kindly to her.

If that isn't enough to make us want to pull her into a hug, then I don't know.

Is Prince Florian the 'stalker' that Rachel Zeglar accused him of being? Well I don't see it through the same 'modern' lense. I'm an old fashioned girl and glad of it. I'll say that he is not.

If Snow White's 14, I'd guess that he's about 16, so it's likely that his father is planning a marriage for him.

We don't know how many beautiful girls have been introduced to him. But clearly, there's something about this singing scullery maid that's caught his attention beside her being so beautiful.

My guess is that it's her wanting something as simple as a kind word. He doesn't know that she's actually a princess. And there's not a sign that she's self pitying. She's wistful, but in telling the birds about the power of the wishing well, she clearly believes that it will work.

After this scene, we don't encounter him again until he finds Snow White in the glass coffin.

So what does this tell us that he's been doing in the meantime? Clearly he's been looking for her!

And for a young man of his time, who probably has girls lining up for his attention, to do that, he must surely be planning to offer her marriage.

If he just wanted to 'play around' then why spend so much time looking for this one girl?

Now there's the question of how a Prince could offer marriage to a scullery maid.

But maybe he's been able to find out who she really is. Let's face it. The news of Snow White's birth won't have been kept quiet. Maybe there was talk between Florian's father and Snow White's Father of them one day forming a marriage alliance?

Then Snow White's father remarries and when he mysteriously dies, the agreement is conveniently forgotten.

People are going to have wondered where a king's daughter vanished to. Maybe Grimhild spun a yarn about her being away at school?

Has Florian been getting questions asked in out of the way places, and gossip has revealed what actually happened to Snow White?

So now he knows that there's no barrier to him offering marriage if he can find her, if she's alive. And if she's dead, he can pay respects at her grave.

Is that romantic, or is it stalking? I suppose it depends on how you see it. And on how the thing is being conducted.

Looking for a missing person is hardly stalking, surely?

One major mistake people make when looking at Snow White is assuming that they were trying to create a Disney Princess role model for little girls to emulate, when actually they were just trying their darndest to create an animated character that audiences would care about.

When we see pure and innocent Snow White being mistreated by her stepmother and later driven into exile, it's supposed to activate parental instincts that make us want to protect her. It shouldn't matter if she doesn't do anything to save herself, because she shouldn't have to. We're supposed to feel the injustice of it, feel sad and angry that she's treated this way, fear that she's going to come to harm. We're not supposed to want to be her, we're supposed to love her, and want to see her get the love she deserves, so we remain invested for the entire runtime of this 80-minute cartoon that they're afraid audiences won't sit through. That's what mattered to the story while they were making it, so applying Disney Princess expectations is ridiculous.

[myclovernew]

player 333 (myung-gi) x fem!reader

⟢ pairing: myung-gi x fem!reader (basically replacing junhee as player 222 sorry jo yuri my queen)

⟢ fluff but a little steamy near the end...

⟢ word count: 4k

⟢ a/n: hai everyone this is my first ever fic here on tumblr and i haven't written anything in over four years so i apologize if the writing is terrible LOL

the annoyingly cheerful music blaring at what felt like 7 in the morning woke me up. the last thing i could remember before falling asleep was getting into a white semi-van driven by a man in a red hoodie whose face i couldn't quite make out. so where in the hell was i now?

blinking a couple times before rubbing one eye, i slowly slid up to the point where i could feel the cold, metal backboard of the bed you were in through the thin polyester jacket i had on. that's when i realized i was in a completely different outfit than the one i had on the night before. looking around, i noticed others slowly waking, everyone in the same outfit as mine with only a slight difference. you were all numbered, and my number was 222.

a guy who was in the bed directly in front of mine started waking up at that moment, mumbling something incoherent to himself and then letting out a huge sigh. the number on the back of his jacket was 333. only when he turned slightly to his left is when i realized; i'd recognize that side profile anywhere.

"lee my-" before i could even finish calling out his name, the speaker sent out feedback indicating the start of something unknown. everyone was awake at this point, walking towards the center pool of people.

that's when an alarm went off, and an automatic door let in a group of eerily mysterious people dressed in pink jumpsuits, their faces covered by black masks with either squares or circles painted on them in white.

"i would like to extend a hearty welcome to all of you," one of the square guards started. i was watching from the foot of my bed, trying to scan the crowd to navigate that piece of shit. i can't believe that asshole is here too, i thought to myself while half paying attention to whatever the square guy is saying.

"everyone here will participate in six different games over six days." games? what are we in, grade school? "those who win all six games will receive a handsome cash prize."

now that's what i wanted to hear. when that salesman looking guy approached me a week ago, he had me play a game of ddakji, which i was a natural at. so of course i beat him on the first round. he gave me 100,000 won as a prize and a rustic brown business card with only a number on the back. i debated on calling the ominous number for days on end, but the final straw was having all 58 of my calls to that asshole myung-gi ignored. he had "borrowed" 500,000 won from me to kickstart a stock he was investing in and just never paid me back. a couple of weeks after was when i found out his dumbass had led a bunch of his stream viewers to invest in the wrong coin, causing a lot of not-so-happy, middle aged men struggling to make ends meet to go after him.

anyway, i was determined to make him pay.

a couple of people from the huge crowd started yelling out remarks, demanding for answers.

"what happened to my clothes?" "did you kidnap us?" "why are you wearing a mask?" "show your face!"

then one person started asking for their phone, insisting that they had to check the crypto market.

"player 333, lee myung-gi," the square guard had declared. my head immediately snapped up, eyes glued to the screen that had just turned on. a video of myung-gi started playing and it was him being embarrassingly bad at the same game of ddakji i had played with the salesman. i couldn't help but laugh to myself as hundreds of people watched him get slapped, how humiliating.

"current debt levels, 1.8 billion won." oh you had to be joking.

that made the measly 500,000 won he owed me look like nothing. no wonder he was ignoring my calls, the loser had absolutely no means of paying me back, let alone getting rid of his own debt.

i lost sight of myung-gi when the guards had us line up and sign what looked like a consent form to play the games. it seemed a bit excessive, but i guess they had to keep it all professional. we then had our photos taken before being led up multiple flights of pink, maze-like stairs.

all at once, three giant doors opened up to a large, sand-filled area. the guards instructed us to go in and stand behind the red line drawn on the ground. at the very end of the field was an enlarged cartoonish doll. what could we possibly be doing here?

i looked around for myung-gi again, hoping to catch him by surprise when he saw my face afters months of ignoring me.

"the first game is red light, green light," a woman's voice iterated through the speakers. red light, green light? i hadn't played that since i was a kid. "cross the finish line before the five minutes are up. if you do, you pass."

this honestly felt like a joke. why were we getting paid to play children's games?

"everyone!" i squinted my eyes to see a middle-aged man, his number being 456, run to the middle of the crowd. "everyone, pay attention!" he was waving his arms like a mad man to try and get everyone to listen to him.

"this is not just a game!" what?

"if you lose, you die!" there's no way that was true. did he mean get eliminated? they wouldn't really kill us, would they? i looked around to watch everyone else's expressions. some started visibly shaking, others shaking their heads in pure disbelief.

at that moment, the robotic doll turned around and put her hand up to her eyes.

"let the game begin."

the first "red light, green light" was said and everyone began to move. as soon as the doll stopped to look around, i stayed as still as possible. the man from earlier was still yelling at everyone to freeze, and something in me started to believe in what he was saying about the game. as i froze in place, i scanned the people around me. 239, 009, 176, 028, and 333. found you.

the next "red light, green light" played and i ran towards myung-gi. he might've been a crypto bro who practically lived at the pc cafe, but damn he was a fast runner. the next couple of "red light, green light's" went off and i was just about a feet behind him now. that's when a loud "bang" echoed throughout the hall. a gun shot. more gun shots sounded, followed by ear-piercing screams. stay still, stay still, i thought to myself.

then it went silent. everyone who was still alive was frozen in their places, not even moving when the doll said "red light, green light." my eyes focused on myung-gi. he was breathing so heavily i could hear him.

"red light, green light." the man from earlier, player 456, was the only one to move as he ran past all of us. "red light, green light." he moved a bit further, with his back facing us.

"the doll detects motion," he yelled out as he had one hand behind his back, moving it around to prove what he was saying was true. so as long as the doll couldn't physically see me moving, i would be fine.

"we're running out of time. we have to move!" shit.

"red light, green light." everyone moved then, finding someone bigger than them to hide behind. i was still behind myung-gi, who i admit was shorter than most guys here, but then again so was i. we were almost by the finish line, with a little less than a minute left.

"red light, green light." we moved again in a synced matter. but just as the doll was about to turn her head, myung-gi tripped on someone's foot. he's going to die, i thought. without thinking, i put out my arm, and grasped onto the back of his jacket.

"don't. move," i whisper-yelled, my teeth gritting against each other. myung-gi didn't make a sound.

"red light, green light," i let go and he regained his balance, the two of us crossing the finish line. i bent over, my hands resting on my knees as i tried to breathe normally again.

"y/n?" myung-gi questioned. i looked back up to him, scanning his face. as much as he was confused as to why i was here, he also looked relieved to see a familiar face.

"aren't you going to thank me?" i retorted. i did just save his life.

"oh, yeah," he said, his hand reaching the back of his head, "thank you. seriously." i sighed and gave him a slight nod. frankly, i was too exhausted and too desperate to get out of this place to even demand for my money back from him right now. he opened his mouth again, like he had something to say, but got quickly distracted by the ceiling of the arena slowly closing in. the game was over.

the guards had us all walk back into the room we woke up in. it was eerily quiet; people were scared for their lives. i just wanted to go home. i didn't even care about the money anymore. why would any of this even matter if i didn't make it out alive?

everyone made it back inside as the guards followed behind the last couple of players, stopping in front of the door they first walked out of. some of the players ran down to the middle of the floor and started kneeling to the ground, rubbing their hands profusely, begging to be saved.

"we are not trying to hurt you. we are only presenting you with an opportunity," the square guard declared.

"clause three of the consent form!" i turned around to look at the player that yelled this out. it was the same man that was helping everyone in the last game, player 456. "the games may be terminated upon a majority vote. correct?"

oh thank god. we actually had a chance at getting out of here before they had us all killed.

that's when the room went dim, and a golden piggy bank was slowly let down from the ceiling. even i was mesmerized, my eyes glued to the stacks of money falling into it. the guard then explained there was a sum of 9.1 billion won in the bank, and if we all wanted to leave now, it would be split by all current players. murmurs erupted, some people wanting to stay and play more games for the sum to rise, while others still wanted to leave.

"now, let's begin the vote."

the guards started calling out player numbers, starting from the last number, 456. the first vote was an X. each player received a tag with either an X or an O, indicating what they had voted for.

"player 333." i watched as myung-gi emerged from the crowd, and walked towards the buttons. i swear to god.

the sound of the button went off and so did a flash of blue light. he picked O.

he barely even made it through the first game without my help, yet he wanted to stay and continue playing? i scoffed to myself, he really did only care about himself.

"player 222." it was finally my turn. i walked up to the voting stand, confident in my answer. i hit the X button and received my tag. walking back to the group of other X voters, i looked over at myung-gi standing on the opposite side who was also watching me from afar. i narrowed my eyes and made a face full of utter disgust and disappointment, then looked away. in that moment, i regretted saving him at all.

the voting ended shortly, the O's winning by one point. we really had to stay and play another game. it was absurd to me, all these people being blinded by the money after seeing firsthand how one wrong move could literally get you killed.

food service happened after the voting and each person was given a meal. i walked back to my bed and opened up the metal box to find a layer of white rice, topped with an egg, sausage, and picked radish. it honestly wasn't bad at all. i was eating peacefully before myung-gi walked up, holding out his box of food and resting his arms on the foot of my bed.

"you want the radish? i know it's your favorite," i looked up at him, mid-chew of a mouthful of rice and egg. the radish was my favorite, but i was surprised he remembered that at all. without saying anything back, because i was still mad at him, i took the pieces of radish out of his box and put it in mine.

"are you mad at me?" i looked up from my food again. he could not be serious. we were making eye contact now, but the purple-ish, blue ring forming around his left eye caught my attention.

"what happened to your eye?" i asked, ignoring his initial question. i don't even know why i brought it up, i could care less about this asshole.

"don't worry about it." say less! i went back to eating my food, myung-gi still hovering, waiting for the answer to his question. i gave him a "what?" look with a shoulder shrug and seems like he took that for an answer because he turned back around and started walking away without saying another word.

i looked toward his direction ever so often after finishing up my meal. he really was a loser and didn't have anyone else here, not even someone to team up with. he sat straight up on his bed, poking at the rice with his spoon. a couple of hours passed by, and it was soon bedtime. the lights in the room dimmed and everyone was in their beds by this point. i pulled the thin cotton blanket over me and readjusted my pillow so it was leaning a bit against the bed board. i lay there on my back with my hands intertwined across my chest, closed my eyes and desperately tried to fall asleep. but it was one of those nights where your eyes were sleeping, and your body wasn't. hours passed and i was still awake. i tried turning to my side, readjusting my pillow again, but nothing worked. at a loss, i just kept my eyes open and stared at the bottom of the bed above mine.

the older gentleman to my right was snoring like there was no tomorrow, and a woman in her mid-20s to my left kept turning around every 5 minutes. even if i did manage to fall asleep, i probably would've woken up because of one or the other. that's when i heard someone nearby talking, or it was more of a loud whisper. i sat right up on my bed to figure out where the noise was coming from, only to see the source was right in front of me.

myung-gi was talking... but to himself? i slowly peeled the blanket off of myself and threw both legs over the edge of my bed. i stepped on my shoes without properly putting them on, and walked towards his bed, making sure not to make anymore noise that could wake up anyone else. i watched as myung-gi continued to blurt out sentences and random words in his sleep, but i couldn't quite make out what he was actually saying. his eyes were fully closed, but his eyebrows were at a slight furrow with sweat beading on his forehead. he looked like he was burning up. without even realizing, i reached my hand out to his forehead, hovering just an inch above it. i didn't even need to make contact with his skin to know he had a fever. i retracted my hand and bent down to my feet to fully put on my shoes before walking over to the door that led to the restroom. a guard was standing by the door and it took me a good 10 minutes for him to let me use the restroom, finally convincing him by saying it was that time of the month.

i grabbed a long piece of a paper towel, folded it, and let it run under the cold water for a bit. i walked back out the door without the guard noticing the paper towel in my hand and made it back to myung-gi, who was thankfully still asleep. i reached out my arms to place the towel on his forehead, but before i could take them back, myung-gi's hand wrapped around my left wrist. his eyes were slightly open, but i couldn't quite tell if he was actually awake or not.

"stay," he croaked, his voice coming out raspy. i stood there unsure what to do and his grasp still on my arm. "please."

well it's not like i could fall asleep anyway. i used my feet to take off my shoes and climbed into his bed, using his arm as a pillow. i cautiously turned to slightly face him, but myung-gi looked like he had already fallen back asleep. i turned back around, closed my eyes, and without even knowing it, fell asleep right then.

i felt warmer than usual as i started waking up to the same music that played when i first got here. eyes still closed, i turned over to my right side and felt even warmer. it was a nice feeling and i wanted to stay here just for a couple more minutes.

the chatter from the people around me woke me up. vision still blurry, i blinked profusely to make sure i wasn't hallucinating. i was looking straight at myung-gi, our faces almost an inch apart. his eyes were still closed and i could even hear his heartbeat; we were that close. we were also under the same blanket now, not knowing how i even got to that position considering he was hogging the thing when i first laid down.

i didn't know what to do. i didn't want to move now because then he'd wake up and i'd have to confront him. i just kept looking at his face, focusing on the bruise from yesterday, which was now a little darker in color. he didn't look like he still had a fever, but something in me wanted to check anyway. i freed my left arm from my own grip and slowly raised it up to his forehead, but before i could even check, myung-gi opened his eyes. i quickly dropped my hand and closed my eyes, pretending like i had never even woken.

fuck, fuck, fuck, shit, shit, shit.

then i heard him starting to laugh, myung-gi was laughing at me. i peeked one eye open and he started to laugh even harder. now i felt myself heating up. guards please take me now, just take me now. as i was about to say something, myung-gi used the blanket to cover me entirely and pulled me in even closer.

"what the fuck are you do-" i tried to get out, but my voice got muffled by the blanket as he brought me in even closer. oh my god i thought i was going to explode.

"you hiding something under that blanket?" a voice questioned from outside. i took that as my queue to stay as silent as possible.

"no, why would i be?" myung-gi answered back.

"don't talk back to me, fucker. unless you want a matching black eye." oh, so this must've been the person that beat the shit out of myung-gi yesterday. myung-gi didn't respond this time, but i could feel his arm around me loosen as the footsteps got further away. i reached for the rim of the blanket and pulled it back down enough for my face to show. that was a bad idea, because i was just about touching his chest now.

"if you wanted a hug you could've just said so," he said sarcastically, a one-sided grin forming on his face as he looked down at me.

"in your dreams," i said, all flustered. i quickly pushed myself away before he could pull anything else and practically stumbled out of the bed. i didn't even look back as i put on my shoes and walked out to regroup with the rest of the players.

they had us get into groups of five for the second game, making it a game based on team effort. i teamed up with four older guys, one of them being player 456 from earlier. i was glad i didn't end up with myung-gi this game, because honestly i didn't know how to face him after last night. but i still found myself glancing over at him throughout the game to make sure he was still alive.

we both got through the second game, but it was still silence between us. i didn't go up to him and neither did he try and talk to me. i couldn't fall asleep that night either, but i didn't dare get out of my bed.

the next game came around quickly. i stuck with the group i had made during the previous game, and we quickly got the hang of this new game. we were placed onto a merry-go-round like platform and spun around until the music stopped. the speaker would blurt out a number and the same amount of people would need to run and find a room to stay in. if the room had more or less people than the number that was said, you would die. as a group of 5, we got through teams of 3 and 6 pretty easily. but then the speaker called out 2. i looked up as everyone paired up, and i had no one. my mind went fuzzy, everyone was running around screaming and looking for their friends. i felt like i was going to faint until i felt someone grab onto my wrist and started to drag me off the platform. i picked up on the pace and ran like my life depended on it, because it did.

we ran into a purple room and shut the door. my back was pinned to the wall as myung-gi still held onto my wrist. we were both trying to catch our breath, but then he leaned in closer. my body froze and we were only inches apart again. i was looking into his eyes, then panned down to his lips, just to trace back up to his eyes again. the door clicked shut and we were stuck in here. together.

in that moment, i felt his lips touch mine. i closed my eyes as i let myself melt into the kiss. he let go of my wrist and positioned one hand at my waist while the other creeped up the back of my neck. i could feel my shirt fleeting as his fingertips made contact with my skin ever so lightly. my hands made their way up his chest as i gripped onto his shirt and pulled him in even closer, deepening the kiss and eliciting a whiny moan from him. i wanted this to go on forever.

the door made another clicking sound, letting us know we could go back out. i loosened my grip before myung-gi could get his hand up any higher under my shirt.

"we have to," i let out, mid-kiss, "go." we both came to a stop then, realizing we had to go back out onto the platform. i quickly straightened up my shirt with my hands and reached up to myung-gi's hair which was looking all disheveled now to smooth it back out into his natural middle part.

"we're not done yet," he whispered into my ear as we walked out the door, parting ways once again.

that's when i knew i'd be getting a good night's sleep tonight.

[metanarrates]

Hello. Sorry if this a stupid question u can ignore if u want.

How can someone get better at media analysis? Besides obviously reading a lot.

Im asking this bc im in a point where im aware of my own lack of tools to analyze stories, but i don't know where to get them or how to get better in general. How did you learn to analyze media? There's any specific book, essay, author, etc that you recommend? Somewhere to start?

I'm asking you because you are genuinely the person who has the best takes on this site. Thank you for you work!

it sounds like a cop-out answer but it's always felt like a skill I acquired mostly thru reading a ton, and by paying a lot of attention in high school literature classes. because of that I can't promise that I'm necessarily equipped to be a good teacher or that i know good resources. HOWEVER! let me run some potential advice to you based on the shit i get a lot of mileage out of

first off, a lot of literary analysis is about pattern recognition! not just pattern recognition in-text, but out-of-text as well. how does this work relate to its genre? real-world history? does it have parallels between real-life situations? that kind of thing.

which is a big concept to just describe off the bat, so let me break it down further!

in literature, there is the concept of something called literary devices - they are some of the basic building blocks in how a story is delivered mechanically and via subtext. have you ever heard of a motif? that is a literary device. it's a pattern established in the text in order to further the storytelling! and here is a list of a ton of common literary devices - I'd recommend reading the article. it breaks down a lot of commonly used ones in prose and poetry and explains their usage.

personally, I don't find all the literary devices I've learned about in school to be the most useful to my analytical hobbies online. motifs, themes, and metaphors are useful and dissecting them can bring a lot to the table, but a lot of other devices are mostly like fun bonus trivia for me to notice when reading. however, memorizing those terms and trying to notice them in the things you read does have a distinct benefit - it encourages you to start noticing patterns, and to start thinking of the mechanical way a story is built. sure, thinking about how the prose is constructed might not help you understand the story much more, but it does make you start thinking about how things like prose contribute to the greater feeling of a piece, or how the formatting of a piece contributes to its overall narrative. you'll start developing this habit of picking out little things about a text, which is useful.

other forms of in-text pattern recognition can be about things like characterization! how does a character react to a certain situation? is it consistent with how they usually behave? what might that tell you about how they think? do they have tells that show when they're not being trustworthy? does their viewpoint always match what is happening on screen? what ideas do they have about how the world works? how are they influenced by other people in their lives? by social contexts that might exist? by situations that have affected them? (on that note, how do situations affect other situations?)

another one is just straight-up noticing themes in a work. is there a certain idea that keeps getting brought up? what is the work trying to say about that idea? if it's being brought up often, it's probably worth paying attention to!

that goes for any pattern, actually. if you notice something, it's worth thinking about why it might be there. try considering things like potential subtext, or what a technique might be trying to convey to a reader. even if you can't explain why every element of a text is there, you'll often gain something by trying to think about why something exists in a story.

^ sometimes the answer to that question is not always "because it's intentional" or even "because it was a good choice for the storytelling." authors frequently make choices that suck shit (I am a known complainer about choices that suck shit.) that's also worth thinking about. english classes won't encourage this line of thinking, because they're trying to get you to approach texts with intentional thought instead of writing them off. I appreciate that goal, genuinely, but I do think it hampers people's enthusiasm for analysis if they're not also being encouraged to analyze why they think something doesn't work well in a story. sometimes something sucks and it makes new students mad if they're not allowed to talk about it sucking! I'll get into that later - knowing how and why something doesn't work is also a valuable skill. being an informed and analytical hater will get you far in life.

so that's in-work literary analysis. id also recommend annotating your pages/pdfs or keeping a notebook if you want to close-read a work. keeping track of your thoughts while reading even if they're not "clever" or whatever encourages you to pay attention to a text and to draw patterns. it's very useful!

now, for out-of-work literary analysis! it's worth synthesizing something within its context. what social settings did this work come from? was it commenting on something in real life? is it responding to some aspects of history or current events? how does it relate to its genre? does it deviate from genre trends, commentate on them, or overall conform to its genre? where did the literary techniques it's using come from - does it have any big stylistic influences? is it referencing any other texts?

and if you don't know the answer to a bunch of these questions and want to know, RESEARCH IS YOUR FRIEND! look up historical events and social movements if you're reading a work from a place or time you're not familiar with. if you don't know much about a genre, look into what are considered common genre elements! see if you can find anyone talking about artistic movements, or read the texts that a work might be referencing! all of these things will give you a far more holistic view of a work.

as for your own personal reaction to & understanding of a work... so I've given the advice before that it's good to think about your own personal reactions to a story, and what you enjoy or dislike about it. while this is true that a lot of this is a baseline jumping-off point on how I personally conduct analysis, it's incomplete advice. you should not just be thinking about what you enjoy or dislike - you should also be thinking about why it works or doesn't work for you. if you've gotten a better grasp on story mechanics by practicing the types of pattern recognition i recognized above, you can start digging into how those storytelling techniques have affected you. did you enjoy this part of a story? what made it work well? what techniques built tension, or delivered well on conflict? what about if you thought it sucked? what aspects of storytelling might have failed?

sometimes the answer to this is highly subjective and personal. I'm slightly romance-averse because I am aromantic, so a lot of romance plots will simply bore me or actively annoy me. I try not to let that personal taste factor too much into serious critiques, though of course I will talk about why I find something boring and lament it wasn't done better lol. we're only human. just be aware of those personal taste quirks and factor them into analysis because it will help you be a bit more objective lol

but if it's not fully influenced by personal taste, you should get in the habit of building little theses about why a story affected you in a certain way. for example, "I felt bored and tired at this point in a plot, which may be due to poor pacing & handling of conflict." or "I felt excited at this point in the plot, because established tensions continued to get more complex and captured my interest." or "I liked this plot point because it iterated on an established theme in a way that brought interesting angles to how the story handled the theme." again, it's just a good way to think about how and why storytelling functions.

uh let's see what else. analysis is a collaborative activity! you can learn a lot from seeing how other people analyze! if you enjoy something a lot, try looking into scholarly articles on it, or youtube videos, or essays online! develop opinions also about how THOSE articles and essays etc conduct analysis, and why you might think those analyses are correct or incorrect! sometimes analyses suck shit and developing a counterargument will help you think harder about the topic in question! think about audience reactions and how those are created by the text! talk to friends! send asks to meta blogs you really like maybe sometimes

find angles of analysis that interest and excite you! if you're interested in feminist lenses on a work, or racial lenses, or philosophical lenses, look into how people conduct those sort of analyses on other works. (eg. search feminist analysis of hamlet, or something similar so you can learn how that style of analysis generally functions) and then try applying those lenses to the story you're looking at. a lot of analysts have a toolkit of lenses they tend to cycle through when approaching a new text - it might not be a bad idea to acquire a few favored lenses of your own.

also, most of my advice is literary advice, since you can broadly apply many skills you learn in literary analysis to any other form of storytelling, but if you're looking at another medium, like a game or cartoon, maybe look up some stuff about things like ludonarrative storytelling or visual storytelling! familiarizing yourself with the specific techniques common to a certain medium will only help you get better at understanding what you're seeing.

above all else, approach everything with intellectual curiosity and sincerity. even if you're sincerely curious about why something sucks, letting yourself gain information and potentially learning something new or being humbled in the process will help you grow. it's okay to not have all the answers, or to just be flat-out wrong sometimes. continuing to practice is a valuable intellectual pursuit even if it can mean feeling a tad stupid sometimes. don't be scared to ask questions. get comfortable sometimes with the fact that the answer you'll arrive at after a lot of thought and effort will be "I don't fully know." sometimes you don't know and that can be valuable in its own right!

thank you for the ask, and I hope you find this helpful!

[lennadanvers]

Pure Imagination: sitting on top of his amp

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female!Reader

Practice makes perfect. That’s what people say. Eddie thinks practice makes thinks automatic. Boring. He kinda likes the thrill of not being sure if he has what it takes to make it right- he’s used to feeling uncomfortable, on the brink of being not enough.

The rest of Corroded Coffin, on the other hand, enjoy knowing that their next performance will always be the best. And Eddie may think it’s boring to play the same song twenty times in one afternoon, but he loves his friends too much to bail on them.

Besides, now that he can play all the songs even while asleep, he can put his attention somewhere else. To hell with Jeff’s cue. His hands will do what they have to do, right on beat. Meanwhile, his head can focus on more stimulating thoughts.

Like you.

Eddie loves a good audience. And there is no better audience than you. He’d know. You were there once, at the talent show.

He was far less experienced than now. He loved playing the guitar just as much, though. You were in the third or fourth row, not that far from him. Eddie was nervous. You were laughing with your friend, but not at him. When he stepped on stage, you stopped talking and started paying attention. The smile was most likely the remnants of whatever had made you laugh earlier, but Eddie likes to lie to himself and believe it was for him.

When he started playing, you didn’t look away from him once. He supposes it would’ve defeated the purpose of a show, but still. His fingers felt your eyes. His arm. His neck, his cheeks. Eddie hoped you’d think the blush was because of the heat from the lights and not because of you. To this day, he’s a little ashamed you saw him with the buzz cut.

He doesn’t regret it, though, because you made him feel important.

Eddie wants to return the favor. That’s why he plays looking at the amp. It’s easy to picture you there. Back in high school, he noticed you like to sit on furniture. The art class tables, the kitchen counter at someone’s house party… And his amp, hopefully.

He starts playing and the beat paints you there. You’re sitting crisscross, hands on your knees. Eddie improvises a little and your fingers follow, little taps that echo his heartbeat. He shakes his hair and you laugh, and he’s happy. Truly, really happy. Who cares if he’s trapped in a dark garage. Who cares if no one will really appreciate his art when they play at the Hideout. Eddie, for once, doesn’t give a crap.

He can still pretend you’ll catch his guitar pick. He can convince himself you’ll keep it in your wallet for good luck, or that you’ll make it into a necklace. Eddie can convince himself you’ll keep a piece of his music hanging next to your heart. It’s easy to believe a part of him will always be warm, on top of your skin, under your t-shirt in a space that is exclusively yours.

It feels natural to be exclusively yours. His music is. His inspiration, too.

If Gareth wants to play another million times the same song they already perfected, great. Amazing. Eddie will happily take any chance to play for you.

A/N: me?? Posting Pure Imagination again?? Who is this diva?! Sabrina said "short and sweet" so that's what I did. I won't let this series die- instead I'll drag the suffering for as long as possible (that is to say it's taking longer than expected to finish). Anyway, hope you like it! If you want me to add you to the taglist, just comment or send an ask.

Btw, I used dividers for the first time to introduce a new series (The Heartbreak Chronicles, in case you want to check it out), and I was thinking maybe I should find a divider for this one too. Maybe something Alice in Wonderland related? Or just Eddie in general? Pls let me know if you have any suggestions.

Masterlist here

Taglist: @whataboutbibi , @hellfirenacht , @daisyridleyss

[itendtothinkalot]

beomgyu!spiderman au (part 2)

summary: just a few scenarios of how it would be like having beomgyu!spiderman as ur bf

genre: fluff

characters: beomgyu!spiderman x f!reader

words: 3.5

a/n: i wasn't done

warnings: danger! knives! guns!

part 1!

Your boyfriend was Spider-Man. The Spider-Man. The one who kept your little town safe, who swung through the streets like a silent guardian, leaving behind ripples of hope. The one who, despite the weight of a city on his shoulders, always stopped to lend a hand to anyone who needed it.

Just the other day, your grandma couldn’t stop talking about him.

“Oh, what a fine young man,” she said, eyes sparkling as she recounted the story for the third time. “He helped me cross the road and even carried my groceries all the way home!”

You had laughed softly then, a knowing kind of laugh. Because you knew the truth. You knew he wasn’t just helping some random sweet old lady—he had helped her because she was your grandma.

But the thought lingered longer than you expected. There was something deeply personal about knowing that Spider-Man, the hero everyone adored, was yours. That he went out of his way for the people you loved. That even in the midst of saving the world—or at least this small corner of it—he still remembered the little things.

It warmed your heart, but it ached too. How could one person carry so much? The city adored Spider-Man, but they didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t see the bruises he came home with or the weight he carried in the slump of his shoulders when no one was watching. They didn’t hear the way his voice cracked when he confessed how hard it was to keep everyone safe—how much he wished he could do more.

“You’re doing fine,” you murmured against Beomgyu’s neck, your voice low, trying to be supportive.. “You have to stop thinking that you owe the world everything. You don’t, Gyu. You really don’t.” Your arms tightened around him slightly, hoping that this small gesture, this closeness, could carry what words couldn’t.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body held itself too tightly, like a coiled spring. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper.

“I almost got Soobin hurt the other day.”

You froze, pulling back just enough to look at him. “What?”

He wasn’t meeting your eyes. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the wall behind you, as though staring into some memory he couldn’t shake. “Someone was following me. I–I didn’t even know. I don’t know how I didn’t know, but I didn’t—”

“Don’t you have those tingles? Like, when something bad’s about to happen?” Your voice rose slightly, more out of disbelief than anger. “What’s it called again?”

“Spidey senses,” he said quietly, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.

“Right.”

He nodded, exhaling shakily. “Which is why this freaked me out so much. They followed me. Back to school.”

You felt your stomach drop. “Our school?”

He sighed, his hand coming up to drag down his face. “It was the day of the test. I guess my anxiety just… I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t even realize they’d been trailing me until it was too late. And then…” His voice cracked, and for a moment, you thought he might stop altogether.

“And then what, Gyu?” you pressed, your own heart racing now.

“Soobin,” he said, his voice trembling. “He was there. He was just…waving down to me, you know? Trying to make sure no one else saw me. But they did see him. They saw him.”

Your breath hitched as you imagined the scene. Soobin, his usual warm and carefree self, unknowingly stepping into danger just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“God, Gyu…” You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. He finally looked at you then, his dark eyes full of guilt, fear, and something raw you couldn’t quite name.

“I can’t let that happen again,” he said firmly, though his voice wavered. “I can’t let someone I care about get hurt because of me. Because of this.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hand tightening. “No one got hurt. Soobin’s fine. You’re fine. But, Gyu, you can’t keep carrying this on your own. You don’t have to. Please…”

He didn’t respond, but the way his hand clung to yours told you everything. For now, it would have to be enough. But in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over—not for him, not for either of you.

—

Beomgyu, the neighborhood’s ever-friendly superhero, had always been the happy-go-lucky guy at school—the one who cracked jokes even during exams and smiled at everyone in the halls. But lately, everything felt heavier. The shadows felt closer, and the weight of his secret life seemed to press down on him more than ever. No one really noticed the change, not at school, not in the streets where he swung between buildings. But he felt it.

Lost in thought, replaying every close call, every mistake, Beomgyu didn’t even notice the bird heading straight for him until—

“AUUUGH!”

The collision sent him tumbling through the air, momentum completely lost. He flailed helplessly before crashing down five levels and landing, with an undignified thud, in a dumpster.

“Dang,” he groaned, clutching his ribs as he tried to sit up. The stench was an assault on his senses, but at least the garbage had cushioned his fall. Small blessings, right?

He barely had a second to regain his bearings before he froze, realizing he wasn’t alone. Two figures loomed over him, their faces obscured by ski masks. Guns peeked out from behind their backs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” one of them muttered, staring down at the very superhero who had been tailing them for weeks.

Beomgyu blinked up at them, then sighed. “What a night,” he muttered before pulling on a smirk under his mask. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Are we heading to some kind of costume party, fellas? I wasn’t invited—kind of hurtful, honestly.”

The guy on the left swore under his breath, visibly rattled as he yanked a gun from behind his back and aimed it at Beomgyu.

“Ooh, wrong move there, buddy.” Beomgyu didn’t even flinch. A second later, a sharp thwip echoed through the alley as his web shooter activated, yanking the gun from the man’s grip and sending it clattering to the ground. In a single, fluid motion, Beomgyu swung up and ensnared the guy in a sticky cocoon of webbing.

“C’mon,” he teased, landing lightly on the ground. “We could’ve gone to the party together. I’ve got a killer mask, and I hear ski masks are making a comeback.”

“He’s fucking with us,” the second guy growled, pulling his gun and advancing.

Beomgyu tilted his head. “I mean, yeah. What’s the point of doing this gig if I can’t have a little fun?”

The second guy lunged, but Beomgyu was faster. Another flick of his wrist sent a web shooting out, pinning the man’s arm to the nearest wall. He struggled, growling like a trapped animal, but it was no use.

“Pro tip,” Beomgyu said, perching casually on a nearby railing. “If you’re going to pull off some shady back-alley operation, maybe avoid the guy who just fell out of the sky. Statistically, probably not your night.”

Both men glared daggers at him, though their predicament made it more comical than intimidating.

“Anyway,” Beomgyu continued, hopping down and dusting himself off, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have homework to procrastinate on, so…” He shot another web, this time connecting the two robbers together like a makeshift package. “Consider this a group bonding exercise. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

As the distant sound of police sirens began to echo through the alley, Beomgyu gave them a mock salute before swinging away, muttering to himself.

“God, I need to start watching out for birds.”

—

Your head rested heavily on the table in your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp doing little to soothe the mounting frustration. The math homework in front of you blurred together into incomprehensible scribbles. You groaned aloud. Where was your genius boyfriend when you needed him? He’d promised to help with at least half of these impossible questions.

A sharp knock on your apartment window jolted you upright, a scream escaping your lips. It wasn’t a small sound either—it was the full-on, “I’m being murdered” kind of scream. To be fair, you lived on the 14th floor, and unexpected visitors weren’t exactly common.

When you turned, your heart still racing, there he was. Red and blue spandex clinging to him like a second skin, mask slightly crooked, and an unapologetic grin plastered beneath it. You sighed, pressing a hand to your chest.

“Geez, Gyu,” you said, walking over to unlock the window. “You need to start giving me some warning. I could’ve died from a heart attack.”

He slipped inside with practiced ease, his suit slightly scuffed but still intact. “Sorry,” he chuckled, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll work on my window etiquette.”

As he adjusted his gloves, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Y’know…” you began, leaning against your desk and giving him an exaggerated once-over, “I kinda get why girls like this whole superhero thing.”

“Oh?” he teased, pulling off one glove and flexing his fingers. “And why’s that?”

“Well, you can kinda see everything,” you said with a wicked grin, poking at the firm outline of his abs. “Like, literally everything.”

Beomgyu groaned, swatting your hand away. “Great. I gotta talk to Mr. Kang about some suit upgrades. Hopefully, that includes censorship.”

“Even from me?” you teased.

“Especially from you,” he quipped before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. His lips lingered for a moment longer than usual, his way of apologizing for being late.

“Sorry,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I kinda swung into a bird, fell into a dumpster, and got two guys arrested. You know, just another Tuesday.”

“What?” you asked, wide-eyed and incredulous. “You swung into a bird?”

“It’s a long story,” he laughed, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Anyway, which page are you on?”

“Uh…” you trailed off, a bit sheepishly. “Still the second page.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Second? You’ve been at this for hours.”

You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Math isn’t exactly my strong suit. It’s yours.”

“Alright, alright.” He grinned, pulling out the chair beside you and plopping down with an exaggerated groan. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

As he adjusted himself to get comfortable, Beomgyu tugged at his mask, lifting it ever so slowly. Your eyes were glued to him, watching as the fabric revealed his face inch by inch. His messy, shaggy hair flopped into his eyes, the slight sheen of sweat only making him look more effortlessly perfect.

You hated to admit it, but every time Beomgyu pulled off that mask, something inside you… shifted. Maybe it was the way his sharp features softened when he smiled at you. Or the way his hair always seemed to look even better messy. Whatever it was, it made your heart do cartwheels.

He caught you staring, of course, his lips quirking into a knowing smile. “What?” he asked, leaning in closer.

“Nothing,” you lied, quickly turning back to your textbook. “Just… hurry up and help me before I fail this assignment.”

“Sure, sure.” Beomgyu chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “But you’re staring at me like I’m the homework you’re trying to solve.”

You flushed, shoving him lightly. “Shut up and teach me algebra, Spider-Boy.”

—

It had barely been ten minutes since school started, but the routine was already in full swing. You and Soobin had a well-rehearsed system for dealing with Beomgyu's inevitable late arrivals, thanks to his extracurricular Spider-Man responsibilities.

You called yourselves Team Spider-Man. It wasn’t a title you chose willingly, but you had to admit it had a nice ring to it. Unfortunately, being the newest member came with its fair share of grievances—like finding out Soobin had been in on the secret way before you.

“So, let me get this straight. This idiot knew before me?” you had demanded, months ago, glaring at both of them like they were the absolute bane of your existence.

“Well, I was at home waiting for him, and… my aunt let him in,” Beomgyu had explained with a wince. “I climbed on the ceiling, and he saw me. What was I supposed to do, pretend I wasn’t there?”

Needless to say, you weren’t over it.

Now, as you sat in class with Soobin, the two of you brainstorming yet another excuse for Beomgyu’s tardiness, the absurdity of the situation almost made you laugh. Almost.

“So,” Soobin began, tapping his pencil against his desk, “diarrhoea excuse? We haven’t used that one in a while.”

You shot him a look. “Seriously? He’s my boyfriend now, Soobin. My reputation is kind of on the line here too, you know.”

“Oh, please,” Soobin snorted. “As if anything could tarnish his already perfect reputation.”

You hated to admit it, but he had a point. Beomgyu wasn’t just well-liked—he was practically a school legend. Teachers adored him. Students gravitated toward him. Even the custodian always waved at him with a fond smile. It was infuriating. (You just didn’t want to admit that you had to share him with well, everyone else.)

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement outside the classroom window. There he was, crouched behind a tree in his unmistakable red and blue suit, though the white gym shirt thrown on top of it was… new.

Your phone buzzed.

Beomgyu: Friday, send message. You: What? Beomgyu: Don’t send message. Send message. Beomgyu: DAMN IT FRIDAY. Beomgyu: I mean send message—I forgot pants. I have no pants. Send message.

You stared at the screen, barely holding back a laugh.

You: You don’t have an extra pair of pants?

Soobin: Well, this does tie in nicely with the diarrhoea excuse.

You snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

Beomgyu: Wait, wait, wait! Are you saying the teachers think I’ve had diarrhoea this whole time? Is that why Mrs. Lee asked if I was okay two nights ago at the store?

Soobin: That’s why Mrs. Lee probably bought you a whole bottle of Pedialyte. You: Just stay put. I’ll grab you some pants. Beomgyu: You’re the best. Also, don’t let Soobin talk to the teachers anymore.

You sighed, glancing at Soobin, who was now snickering into his notebook. Sometimes, being part of Team Spider-Man felt more like babysitting a group of overgrown toddlers.

—

The three of you were crammed into the corner booth of the diner you occasionally visited, the one with sticky menus and the best milkshakes in town. The warm hum of conversation and clatter of dishes filled the air, but none of it distracted you from Soobin’s next words.

“Hey,” Soobin started, far too casually, as he leaned back in his seat. “Isn’t that the guy you said was cute?” He gestured—not subtly—toward the waiter, the one you had offhandedly mentioned finding attractive months ago, long before Beomgyu was even a consideration in your love life.

Your heart dropped. “What?” You shot Soobin a warning look, kicking him lightly under the table. “No. Absolutely not.”

“No, you definitely did!” Soobin grinned, ignoring the daggers you were shooting at him. “I remember it clearly because he was carrying that JJK keychain on his–”

“Choi Soobin.” Your voice was low, a deadly whisper, as you glared at him, teeth gritted.

Beomgyu, who had been happily sipping his milkshake until that very moment, set it down with deliberate slowness. His lips twitched, the kind of expression that meant trouble. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “So…” he drawled, voice teasing but edged with curiosity. “The waiter, huh?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This was before we started dating!” You said defensively, looking up at Beomgyu with wide eyes. “Way before. Ancient history. Irrelevant.”

Beomgyu tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And where was I during all this?”

“How would I know?!” You threw your hands up.

Soobin, who was clearly having the time of his life, leaned in conspiratorially, voice just low enough to sound like he was helping. “It was the day you were over at Mr. Kang’s office.”

Beomgyu’s brows shot up in mock realization, and you immediately regretted ever confiding in Soobin about anything.

“Mr. Kang’s office, huh?” Beomgyu repeated, turning his gaze back to you. “So while I was working on tech to save the city, you were out here scouting waiters?”

“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands again, your cheeks burning. “It wasn’t like that!”

Beomgyu smirked, reaching over to flick a fry at Soobin, who was now laughing so hard he nearly fell out of the booth. “Remind me to block this guy’s number,” Beomgyu teased.

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled, hiding your face behind the menu.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Beomgyu said, leaning closer, his voice dropping low just for you, “I’m cuter.”

You peeked out from behind the menu, your lips twitching despite your best efforts to stay annoyed. “Debatable.”

—

Beomgyu was excited. It had been days—no, weeks—since he’d had time alone with you. Between school and his Spider-Man duties, quality time with you had become rare. Especially since Soobin was usually a third wheel, even on your study dates.

He swung through the city, doing a final sweep before heading to your house. “Well, isn’t Seoul just so safe today, all thanks to me,” he muttered to himself, breaking into a little moonwalk mid-swing.

But he spoke too soon.

A chilling scream echoed in his ears.

A scream too close to home.

A scream from near your apartment.

“BEOM–GYUAAA!”

His blood ran cold.

Without wasting another second, he swung towards the sound, heart pounding in his chest. As he neared, the scene came into view—you, clutching your bag, screaming as you struggled against a thief.

His heart dropped.

He never expected to see you in harm’s way. A wave of guilt and terror swept over him, gnawing at his insides. He felt terrible.

Beomgyu's heart raced as he swung toward the sound of your voice. The scream—your scream—kept echoing in his head, shaking him to his core. He'd handled countless situations like this before, but this was different. This was you.

The thief yanked at your bag, his grip tightening as you refused to let go. Beomgyu could see the fear in your eyes, even from a distance, and his blood boiled. But fear wasn’t an option now. He had to act quickly—and smartly.

Clinging to the side of the building just above the alleyway, Beomgyu scanned the situation. The thief was armed, a glinting knife in his free hand. Too close for comfort. One wrong move and—no, don’t think about that, he told himself.

“Hey, buddy,” Beomgyu called out, voice steady but sharp, “how about you pick on someone your own size?”

The thief froze, glancing around wildly until he spotted Beomgyu perched above him. “What the–”

Before the thief could finish, Beomgyu leapt down, landing behind him. His sudden appearance startled the man enough to loosen his grip on your bag. You took the chance to stumble back, clutching it tightly to your chest.

“Stay back,” Beomgyu said, his voice low and commanding as he positioned himself between you and the thief. “Unless you wanna find out how this web feels up your ass.”

The thief lunged with the knife, but Beomgyu was faster. With a flick of his wrist, a web shot out, sticking the knife to the wall. The thief panicked, trying to run, but Beomgyu had already shot another web, trapping him against a lamppost.

“Okay, now you just hang tight, buddy” Beomgyu said, brushing his hands off dramatically. “Police will be here any minute. And by the way, knives? Seriously?”

With the danger neutralized, Beomgyu turned to you, his voice laced with worry, even through the mask. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head, though your hands trembled, and tears pooled in your eyes as the adrenaline coursing through your body began to subside. “I-I’m fine,” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, his shoulders visibly relaxing now that he knew you were unharmed. He stepped closer, his gloved hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, his usual playful tone replaced by something tender. He leaned in slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours.

You sniffled, a faint smile breaking through the tears as you raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure…you’re gonna kiss me in public, Mr. Spider-Man?”

Beomgyu froze, his masked face tilting in realization. “Oh. Right.” He quickly straightened up, clearing his throat. “You’re safe, citizen! You may now go home!” he announced dramatically, his hands moving to his hips in mock superhero fashion.

“Thank you, Mr. Spider-Man,” you replied, unable to hold back your laughter, though your voice still wavered with lingering emotion.

Beomgyu winked—or at least you thought he did—before muttering under his breath as he turned to leave, “You're not gonna let this go, aren't you?

You shook your head.

-

part 1!

[mysticstronomy]

DID LIFE BEGIN IN DEEP SPACE??

Blog#467

Saturday, January 4th, 2025.

Welcome back,

Life, for all its complexities, has a simple commonality: It spreads. Plants, animals and bacteria have colonized almost every nook and cranny of our world.

But why stop there? Some scientists speculate that biological matter may have proliferated across the cosmos itself, transported from planet to planet on wayward lumps of rock and ice. This idea is known as panspermia, and it carries a profound implication: Life on Earth may not have originated on our planet.

In theory, panspermia is fairly simple. Astronomers know that impacts from comets or asteroids on planets will sometimes eject debris with enough force to catapult rocks into space. Some of those space rocks will, in turn, crash into other worlds. A few rare meteorites on Earth are known to have come from Mars, likely in this fashion.

“You can imagine small astronauts sitting inside this rock, surviving the journey,” says Avi Loeb, an astrophysicist at Harvard University and director of the school’s Institute for Theory and Computation. “Microbes could potentially move from one planet to another, from Mars to Earth, from Earth to Venus.”

(You may recognize Loeb’s name from his recent book Extraterrestrial: The First Sign of Intelligent Life Beyond Earth, which garnered headlines and criticism from astronomers for its claim that our solar system was recently visited by extraterrestrials.)

Loeb has authored a number of papers probing the mechanics of panspermia, looking at, among other things, how the size and speed of space objects might affect their likelihood of transferring life. While Loeb still thinks it’s more likely that life originated on Earth, he says his work has failed to rule out the possibility that it came from somewhere else in space.

Meanwhile, recent experiments have suggested that earthly organisms can survive in space, at least for a little while. Experiments aboard the EXPOSE-E facility at the International Space Station have subjected bacteria, lichens and plant seeds to the extreme cold and radiation of space for anywhere from a few days to over a year. Some bacteria and other organisms were able to survive the journey, including tardigrades, ultra-hardy animals found everywhere from Arctic ice to the deep ocean.

If an asteroid or comet is large enough, microbes could be frozen deep within, Loeb says.

That could protect them from radiation and the extreme temperatures that turn meteors into fireballs. After they explode onto the surface of a new world, these extraterrestrial colonists could begin to thrive.

In other solar systems, panspermia could be even more likely to occur than in our own. For example, the seven tightly packed planets of the TRAPPIST-1 system, discovered in 2016, might be ideal for life to planet-hop. If we find life there one day, Loeb says, we should pay attention to whether it all looks suspiciously similar. He thinks two neighboring planets with similar biological systems would be a sure sign that life had traveled between them at some point.

Originally published on https://www.astronomy.com

COMING UP!!

(Wednesday, January 8th, 2025)

"DID LIFE CAME FROM STARS??"

[cigarettesaftersae]

i'll like you - 06 iykyk

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: reo mikage x f!reader | contains : fluff, angst, jealousy, academic rivals, fake dating

Plotting down your wooden seat, nothing stresses you more than the thought of Yuna, and how her avoidance is extreme to the eye. How were you to cope with the silence that was once filled with Yuna’s joyful laughter? And her smile larger than a rainbow, oh her eyes brighter than the sun. Maybe holding her hand and saying sorry will help? Maybe, but her avoidance is nakedly mean. As if her skin is demonic to your angelic skin. And her skin, demonic, lays in hell with friends, Naomi. “What’s with the gloomy face?” Reo sits across from you, Nagi on his phone playing video games like the usual bum he is. A sigh first leaves your lips, “Nothing”

“What a gloomy response”

“So what” You lay your head down looking off to the side

“It’s such a hassle being gloomy” Nagi’s aloof words carry nothing but annoyance to your ears, really what did you see in him?

“Really? Maybe I should sit around all day and play on phone like ya,” You bark back, still laying down your head

“Play animal crossing, not Minecraft”

“Thanks”

“Come on, let’s go eat. You can’t just strave. If you’re gonna apologize to Yuna, you need food” You lift your head up from your warm arms. You could just lay back in the warmth whilst the cold around you waves by, let dust lay inch by inch on you, even let the bugs bite you. But you lift your head up from your warm arms to see Reo, welcomed with a smile larger than a rainbow. “Fine, but remember you said you’re buying my lunches.”

The thought that Reo’s skin would be alien to you is found untrue. I thank you Reo, forever. I miss you my love

Your appetite didn’t empathize with your belly. Sitting across from the dynamic duo, you lazily fidgeted with a plastic fork, pushing the food around your plate without actually eating. Meanwhile, the sound of gunfire and shouting emanated from Nagi’s phone, his focus entirely absorbed in his game. His own meal sat untouched, abandoned in favor of his screen.

Suddenly, the fork was whisked from your fingers, stolen by a flash of purple hair. Your full attention snapped to Reo, confusion evident on your face. What was he doing?

“Open up, ahh,” Reo said, his tone playfully insistent as he held the fork out toward you, a morsel of food perched at its tip.

“I can feed myself,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes at him.

“But you aren’t,” he countered smoothly. “Eat. I did pay for it, after all.”

You hesitated, torn between annoyance and the strange warmth of his persistent kindness. Eventually, with a soft sigh, you relented, opening your mouth and swallowing the food he offered. His smug grin didn’t go unnoticed, but you chose to ignore it.

“So,” you began cautiously, your gaze dropping back to your plate, “when are we announcing… us to the school?”

“It’s only been a week since all the commotion,” Reo said thoughtfully, leaning back slightly. “Today might be a good chance.”

“Yeah… I agree,” you murmured, straightening your posture. You straighten your back, being gloomy wasn’t ever your identify. Even so, why did Reo’s presence carry blessings to you? Something you can’t answer, so you leave it to the absence of Yuna.

“You should meet my mom formally, then,” you said suddenly.

“Already?” Reo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah. We have to start with her. She’s a bit of a… yapper, so news will travel fast, and she’s my mom she knows everything” you explained. “Unless you have practice?”

“I can come after practice,” Reo replied quickly, his eagerness catching you off guard. “It’ll be shorter today.”

“Alright, then I’ll wait on the bleachers,” you said nonchalantly.

“You’re going to watch me practice?” Reo asked, his lips curling into a teasing smirk.

“I’ll be recording you to make fun of you with my mom,” you quipped, matching his smirk.

Reo chuckled, leaning closer. “Maybe you’ll be impressed instead of making fun of me. Especially with Nagi—he has mad skills.”

“All he does is play video games,” you deadpanned.

“She’s right,” Nagi chimed in without looking up from his phone, his voice as flat as ever.

Reo groaned, shaking his head in mock defeat. “No faith in me, huh?”

“Guess we’ll have to see.” You shrugged

“Choo choo train”

“Give me back my fork—”

“Nope, I’ll be feeding you now on”

Once stepped inside the classroom Mira encounters you, she’s been a trustworthy friend for the past few days. Maybe it was her cool charisma, or the assuring little light her eyes give. She’s the girl you’d believe your mom might’ve been in her prime days. Trustworthy yes, but quite the chatter box in terms of much secretive stuff. Something you truly didn’t mind till fallout with Yuna.

“Oh, hey Mira,” With smile you welcome her back

“Hey,” she replied, her voice carrying an edge of concern. “Came to check up on you... with everything that’s been going on.”

You glanced away, “Oh thanks. I’ve been okay.”

“I noticed you’ve been hanging out with the Mikage kid. And Nagi too,” she added, her tone bordering on curious.

“Yeah, uh, I guess we’re kinda friends now,” you admitted, scratching the back of

your neck.

Mira tilted her head, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You still like Mikage?”

“Huh—oh, right, I—” you stammered, feeling heat creep up your neck.

“We’re together, actually. Isn’t that right, my love?”

The sudden, confident voice from behind made you freeze. You turned to find Reo standing there, his signature smirk firmly in place. Arm wrapped around your shoulder, his unexpected declaration sent a jolt of shock through you, followed by a fluttering you weren’t quite ready to name. Butterflies? No. Definitely not.

This was supposed to happen tomorrow. Why was he announcing it now?

Your bewilderment mirrored the wide-eyed stares of your classmates. Every single gaze was fixed on the two of you, their curiosity palpable. Mira’s jaw had practically dropped, and you could almost hear her thoughts racing.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Nagi, already seated and unbothered, tapping away at his phone. Of course, he knew. Nothing phased him, it seemed.

“Oh— Reo, we weren’t supposed to tell anyone till tomorrow” You portray a romantic act back to Reo. You almost spit out a darling, but that’ll make you two sound old.

“Ahh what’s the difference, today, tomorrow? I’ll still be with you”

A collective “aww” rippled through the classroom at his words, and you could only force a wide, fixed smile until the teacher finally walked in, cutting the moment short.

“Alright, back to your seats. Mikage,” the teacher said, his tone exasperated as he gestured for Reo to move.

“Mmm, could we change seats, perhaps?” Reo replied, his tone light but entirely too smug.

“What—just go back to your seat,” you hissed under your breath, trying to push him away. But Reo simply grinned at you, that flashy smile stopping your protest in its tracks.

Turning back to the teacher, Reo asked, “Don’t you think a change would do us all some good?”

“Don’t cause such a commotion, Mikage. Just sit down,” the teacher sighed.

But Reo wasn’t done. With a confident stride, he leaned in and whispered something to the teacher. The whole class watched, captivated, as you buried your face in your hands. You didn’t need to hear to know what was happening—common sense told you Reo was baiting the teacher with his signature move: dirty money.

The teacher sighed heavily, his resolve crumbling. “Alright, I suppose it’s been a while since we had a seating change. Choose wherever you’d like.”

Cheers erupted around the room, and you groaned internally as Reo pulled out the chair right next to yours, sliding into it with a triumphant smile.

“Looks like we’re seatmates now,” he said, settling in as though it had always been his spot.

You deadpanned at him, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “Lucky me.”

At natural instincts, you look around for Yuna, her seat dripped behind Naomi. You weren’t jealous no, anger no, hurt? Yes. Out of all people Yuna could’ve look forward to, it was a two-face bitch. Given the situation though, you couldn’t do anything now. And you only have yourself to blame.

You clicked the stop button on your phone, ending the recording of Reo’s practice. You had been hoping to capture something embarrassing—maybe a fumbled kick or an awkward stumble—but, to your dismay, Reo had been good. Annoyingly good. A part of you hated to admit it, but watching him out there had been... a little impressive.

As the team wrapped up, Reo walked over to you, his strides confident, his skin glistening with sweat. He lifted his shirt to wipe his face, casually revealing a well-defined body. You caught yourself staring a second too long before quickly looking away, but not before he noticed.

“Got a little drool here,” he teased, pointing to the corner of his mouth with a smirk.

“Maybe it’s from your contagious sweat,” you shot back, scrunching your nose as if the thought disgusted you.

Reo laughed, leaning on the railing of the bleachers as he tilted his head to meet your gaze. “Contagious, huh? Must be powerful if it’s got you zoning out like that.”

“Please,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you stuffed your phone into your bag. “I was trying to figure out how someone as flashy as you managed to survive on a team sport.”

“Flashy and effective,” he countered, flashing you a grin that could rival the sun. “You got it all on video, didn’t you?”

“Unfortunately,” you muttered, standing up to leave. “Don’t worry, I’ll find something to make fun of later.”

Reo grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder, falling into step beside you. “Keep dreaming. I’m flawless on and off the field.”

You rolled your eyes again, but a small, unbidden smile tugged at your lips. “Sure, Mikage. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Let me hit the showers and we’ll head off.”

Walking side by side with Reo, you couldn’t help but feel like this whole charade was something out of a cheesy rom-com. Off to introduce your new boyfriend to your mom—how wonderful this would sound to her. As you approached the gates of your house, your attention was drawn to a small, neatly wrapped box resting on the porch. Its delicate ribbon and meticulous presentation made it stand out.

“Huh… We didn’t have any deliveries scheduled,” you murmured, narrowing your eyes at the unexpected package.

“I ordered that,” Reo chimed in casually, his hands stuffed into his pockets.

You turned to him, confused. “You ordered something? For who?”

“For your mom,” he said with a proud smile.

You stared at him, half-suspicious and half-exasperated. “Ordered? What is it? A bomb?”

Reo rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed by your dramatics. “No, silly, it’s a necklace.”

“A necklace. How much exactly?”

Reo let out a slightly nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh… $7,000. I wanted to make sure I made a good first impression. Oh, and I threw in a coupon for jewelry at Mikage Corporation—plus a discount on another necklace. It'll bring it down from 1000 to 300 or less.”

“Reo!” you exclaimed, your voice a mix of shock and exasperation.

“What?!” he shot back defensively.

“It’s a first impression for my fake boyfriend! And she already knows who you are! Seven thousand—are you kidding me?”

Reo’s eyes widened, his expression caught somewhere between confusion and indignation. “Okay, but—she doesn’t know me like that. First impressions are important, you know! Oh I also order in so diamond rings for her, a side of chocolate from one the most expensive brands out there”

“No,” you said flatly, shoving the box with the lavish necklace back into his hands.

Reo scrunched his eyebrows, pouting like a child denied candy. “Why not?”

“My mom and I buy from garage sales, not Pandora or wherever you shop,” you replied, your tone sharp but truthful.

Reo opened his mouth, probably ready with another dramatic rebuttal, but before he could speak, the front door swung open. There stood your mom, her curious eyes flickering between the two of you.

“O-oh, hey, Mom!” you stammered, nervousness bubbling up as you attempted a casual smile. “This is, uh—”

“I’m Reo Mikage,” Reo interrupted, stepping forward with a dazzling smile. He gave her a respectful bow, oozing politeness.

Your mom squinted at him, a thoughtful expression spreading across her face. “I think I’ve heard of you before…”

Reo’s smile brightened, his confidence soaring. “You have?” he asked eagerly, clearly relishing the recognition.

You chime in “Probably on the news or something.”

“No, I don’t watch the news.” She waved dismissively, her gaze shifting toward you, her grin widening. “It was from my daughter. She talks about you a lot.”

Your heart dropped, panic flashing across your face. “Then that must’ve been the news I was talking about!” you blurted out, desperate to redirect the conversation.

Your mom’s teasing smirk said it all—she wasn’t buying it. You knew deep down that she was playing with you, using every little thing you’d vented about to her over the months. Maybe spilling all your frustrations about Reo to her hadn’t been the smartest move after all.

“Well come in, come in.”

Once settled down in your living room, the warm tea in your hands worked wonders, its calming aroma and heat dissolving some of the tension that had built up. Across the modest wooden coffee table, your mom sat with an amused smile, her sharp eyes darting between you and Reo. Meanwhile, Reo’s tall frame seemed almost too large for your cozy living room. His long legs were tucked awkwardly, his usual self-assured aura slightly muted in the presence of your mom.

The conversation was light at first—updates on your mom’s hobbies, her garden, and her recent bargain finds at garage sales. But you were careful, very careful, to steer away from mentioning the true nature of your and Reo’s relationship.

“So,” your mom began, her tone casual but with an unmistakable edge of curiosity, “how did you two meet?”

You froze slightly, gripping your cup just a bit tighter. Reo, ever the smooth talker, leaned forward with a charming smile. “We actually met through some mutual friends. It wasn’t anything planned, but, well, sometimes things just work out perfectly.”

Your mom raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical but entertained. “Perfectly, huh? You’ve got some stories to share, I bet.”

“Oh, plenty,” Reo said with a soft laugh. “But most of them make me look bad, so I’ll save those for another day.”

You glanced at him, your eyes silently pleading for him not to overdo it. Reo seemed to sense it, his hand brushing against yours briefly on the couch as if to reassure you.

“Well,” your mom said, her tone shifting to something more teasing, “you seem to get along pretty well. Must be serious if you’re bringing him home, sweetheart.”

You let out a nervous laugh, feeling the tea in your stomach churn slightly. “Mom, it’s not—”

“She’s been great,” Reo interrupted smoothly, cutting off your attempt to defuse the situation. “Honestly, I’m really lucky.”

Your gaze lingered on him, his profile seemingly untouched by nerves or uncertainty. The casual confidence in his tone and the soft smile playing on his lips—it was so natural, almost too convincing.

Was it just part of the charade? Or did he mean it?

You swallowed, your thoughts racing. Maybe he was just playing his part perfectly. After all, Reo Mikage was nothing if not composed under pressure. But the way his eyes flickered toward you as he spoke, softening for just a fraction of a second—it felt... real.

Your mom’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. “Well, if you’re lucky, then I hope you’re not taking that for granted.” Her sharp tone cut through the moment, her teasing grin making it clear she wasn’t letting him off easy.

“Of course not,” Reo said smoothly, turning his full attention to her. “I wouldn’t dare. I know how special she is.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Whether it was rehearsed or genuine, the sincerity in his words was enough to make your cheeks warm.

Your mom chuckled, clearly amused by his quick responses. “Alright, Mr. Smooth Talker. You’ve passed the first round. Let’s see how you hold up for the rest of the visit.”

Reo grinned, undeterred. “I’ll do my best.”

You looked away, trying to focus on anything but him. Your thoughts were betraying you, stirring emotions you hadn’t anticipated. If he was this convincing, how much of it was an act? And more importantly—how much of you was starting to hope it wasn’t?

.

.

.

[beelanddiavolosimp-blog]

HIHIIIIIIII!!! Anyway love your work and could I possibly request the demon brothers reacting to a Female MC who is absolutely obsessed with reading Romantasy? (Romance and Fantasy) please and thank you!! (oh and maybe she simps for a lot of book men who is like similar to the brother you would be writing about)

I feel like that's almost everyone in the obey me fandom 😭 but of course and thank you!

The brothers reaction to an MC who loves reading romantic fantasy

Lucifer

He loves any form of literature finding it beautiful. Though he never looked much into romance he thought he wouldn't need it so why read it? He watches you as you read wondering why you keep smiling. He asks after a bit of silence. Once you tell him what it is he gets intrigued. He now reads them with you finding it both exciting and romantic. He absolutely loves when you also tell him that you like certain characters because they remind you of him makes him proud of himself.

Mammon

He couldn't care less about books. He hates them from school already. So when he finds you reading one he immediately asks about it and what makes it so special. After you explained he looked even more confused. "Ya read romance? Why? I'm right here?" He says and you have to remind him that you're always thinking of him in these scenarios so he doesn't get too pouty about it

Levi

He knows about fanfiction from his animes but doesn't read much normal books that aren't for school or a manga. He knows about the genres too since there are some similar ones in anime descriptions. He looked up the book you were reading when you two hung out together and saw the description. He wasn't judging but it was pretty adorable to him you liked Romance of any kind. He plays a lot of romance animes for you not saying how he knew you liked the genre. He gets flustered when you state you like characters that remind you of him. He definitely liked the comment though.

Satan

Of course he knew about romantic fantasy. He knew of all the romance genres. He liked how you enjoyed a bit of adventure and not just some plain old romance. He recommends and gives you all the fantasy romance he owns which is a lot for a human. When you confess you think of him for most of the characters he has a light hue to his cheeks and then laughs a bit. "That's cute MC I can't wait to give you even more recommendations" he grins

Asmos

He honestly reads with you. When he's bored he will look over your shoulder and read. He will make some comments here and there about what the character did wrong and right, etc. He doesn't mind romance but is more of a dark romance lover himself. When you state that some of the characters remind you of him he now either judges the characters or fawns over them as well.

Beel

He knew you liked reading but didn't know exactly what. He read a few pages of a book you left out and smiled to himself. He actually enjoyed the genre as well. He now reads the books you are done with and talks to you about them kinda like a book group of two. When you say that some characters you love remind you of him he just says the same thing with a smile. So cute.

Belphie

He knows you read because he gets irritated with it. It's taking your attention away from him! He doesn't tell you to stop though just rest himself on you and waits till you are done reading to pay him more attention. He doesn't care what you are reading just wants you to himself. He does however enjoy that the characters you like sound like him so hey at least he got some attention.

[jjscrybaby]

A request for JJ!!

I was thinking something kinda angst. So JJ hates the reader and she hates him. They both think each other has a great life and is jealous. But maybe one day on her usual bike ride around the cut, y/n sees JJ’s dad get aggressive with him and realises how JJ’s life is hard. But she doesn’t go to help because she was scared. Feeling bad that she didn’t help she wonders around and she goes home late which results in an argument with her mom. At that time JJ was doing a delivery with Pope and hears and sees everything and when y/n is outside walking around trying to calm herself down and distract from the pain she accidentally bumps into JJ and they have a talk.

jj maybank x fem!reader | hurt & comfort | (luke maybank being an ass, reader’s mom is also an ass, overall just bad parents!)

not proofread and written at 6am so my bad if there’s any mistakes 🤗

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

One of the main differences between you and JJ were your social status’. JJ came from the Cut, he grew up catching his own food, roaming the streets at the age of seven without a care in the world, stealing just to get by. You grew up on Figure Eight, you never had to lift a finger, your parents never had to worry about where their next pay check was coming from. He was jealous.

JJ grew up with freedom, with a group of friends he called his family, he never had to worry about grades or being perfect because no one cared if he was. You grew up with snobby rich kids as the only people you could hang out with, your mom dictated everything you did down to the clothes you’d wear to the mall, you felt embarrassed to even leave the house if your hair was slightly greasy. You were jealous.

You’d known JJ Maybank since you were a kid, you went to the same Elementary school and then over the years you’d see each other at parties or at the club where he worked. There wasn’t ever something that happened that gave you both a reason to hate the other, you just did.

Something your parents were definitely not aware of was the route you’d take on your weekly bike ride. You needed an escape from the ‘perfect’ life, so at least once a week you’d take your little pink bicycle and you’d ride around the Cut. You weren’t sure what it was that drew you to it in the first place, especially after the horror stories you’d grown up hearing, but you always felt calm when you rode around with your AirPods in.

It was about six o’clock, you were supposed to be home for dinner in an hour because your father had some clients coming over and you were wanted as well. You were about to head back home when the sound of yelling caught your attention. You turned round the corner, standing still at the end of the street.

“You smell like a damn bar!” It was JJ. You didn’t know he lived here, but then again why would you? You weren’t friends. There was an older man stumbling after him, following the blonde down the porch steps.

“Ain’t that rich comin’ from you?” The man, who you assumed was non other than Luke Maybank, snorted.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” JJ scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned to look at his dad.

“Means you ain’t better than me, kid. It’s in your blood, you’re a Maybank,” Luke mocked.

You could see JJ shake his head, a scowl on his face that was hiding the hurt he felt. “I’m nothin’ like you. And I never will be.”

“Say whatever you want, don’t make it true,” Luke shrugged, taking a sip from the beer that you hadn’t noticed was in his hand. “Where the fuck you goin’, anyways? Ain’t been home in weeks.”

Weeks? You had heard the stories about Luke, the robberies and the bar fights, but you didn’t think he’d treat his own son like this. He spoke to him as if he was a stranger, as if he couldn’t care less about him.

“Yeah, and I shouldn’t have bothered coming back at all,” JJ stated, turning to continue walking away. Luke grabbed his arm, yanking him back and holding him in place. “Get the fuck off me, man!”

“Gotta show some respect, Jay!” Luke yelled, making you flinch.

Why were the neighbours not coming out? Why hadn’t anyone done something about this? You felt sick, and you felt even worse when you got on your bike and rode away before you had to see how this ended.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

“You alright?” JJ hated that question, especially when he knew why it was being asked. The shiner that he sported now. Pope looked at him sympathetically, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m fine. Ready to get some good tips,” JJ shrugged, taking the grocery bags from his hands. “Who orders food at eight o’clock?”

“Rich people,” Pope muttered. “Don’t lose any of that shit.“

“Yeah, yeah.”

JJ walked to your house, he knew it was yours from the last name above the slip of paper Pope had given him. He was starting to walk up the driveway when he heard the noise coming from the open front door.

“I told you to be here by seven! It’s half past!” Your mother exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air.

“I— I got held up, I’m sorry.” He’d never heard you sound so small. Usually, when the two of you got at each other’s throats at a Kegger, you’d stand your ground without a care in the world. It was one of the only things he respected about you.

“Held up with what?” Your mom scoffed. He could see through the cracks in the bushes that she was shaking her head, looking disappointed.

“It’s just dinner, mom. I don’t need to be here,” you tried to argue.

“Well, I’ve already told the Henderson’s that you aren’t home. So, therefore, you will not be home. Don’t come back until they’re gone,” she stated.

“What? Mom. I haven’t got anywhere to go,” you exclaimed, voice wavering.

The door closed in your face and you let out a shaky sigh. You’d been preoccupied, feeling guilty for not sticking up for JJ, so you’d gotten home a little later than planned. Was it really that big of a deal? Tears fell as you wandered back down your driveway, trying to think of where the hell you can go.

“Uh, hey.” You flinched in shock, turning to see JJ lurking by the bushes with two grocery bags.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked quietly.

“Delivery,” he explained.

“Right, well, I can’t take it,” you muttered. “Just go knock.”

“Wait there.” You weren’t sure why you did what he said, but it wasn’t like you had anything better to do. You stood and waited, watching as he left the bags on your front door step and knocked before coming back; he didn’t even wait for a tip. “C’mon.”

The two of you walked through Figure Eight in silence, him puffing on his vape every now and then whilst you tried not to burst into tears. “I saw you and your dad, earlier.”

“What?” He turned to look at you in confusion.

“Outside your house.”

“Why were you outside my house?” He asked.

“I wasn’t, I just happened to be going past,” you explained. You bit your nails before speaking again, letting out a quiet sigh. “He’s an ass.”

Surprisingly, JJ let out a chuckle. He nodded his head. “Yeah, he is. So is your mom.” You giggled, agreeing with him. “Guess we both have shitty parents, huh?”

“Seems like it,” you shrugged. “Never thought we’d have something in common.”

“You know, my friend, John B, his house is sorta the hangout for kids with shitty parents. Did you want to… you could come over, until you can go back home,” JJ offered. He sounded anxious, as if he was asking you on a date.

You found yourself nodding your head, shyly smiling at him. “Yeah, just until I can go back home.”

You didn’t go home, instead you spent the night chatting shit about your mom with JJ whilst he rambled about his dad. You ended the night in his bed, laid on his chest as the two of you shared a joint. You didn’t feel so jealous anymore, and you were certain he didn’t either.

[thunder-opossum]

Hey so I kinda went on a rant abt religion (how I was taught it in not good ways/religious trama) so um be warned.

I've never fainted b4. I've been knocked out for surgery and stuff

But like years ago I was forced to go to church for my youngest sisters first communion. My plan to avoid it was to sleep in, which didn't work and just meant i didn't have time to eat anything for breakfast.

So when I was in the church, the hellish combo of terrible period cramps, low blood sugar, anxiety, and kneeling made me start to feel faint. Like my vision actually started swirling and darkening. I would have passed out seconds later if my dad didn't realize I was breathing real funky (i was too shy to say that i literally couldn't brethe). He made me stop kneeling and took me outside, driving me home and then went back to church. Anyways love religious trama.

Going to church (we didn't go often) and like weekend religion classes was not good for me. So much anxiety and stress and I couldn't sit still. I would be nearly breaking down. It was just such a terrible environment for me. We literally did tests and you bet your ass i guessed all the answers bc I never payed attention or did the homework like wtf. What elementary schooler/middle schooler wants to do that.

We got to do fun crafts sometimes, religious themed ofc but I just did whatever I want, purposefully excluding religion. It was so old school that there were green chalboa4ds and old tvs that were rolled in to play vhs.

I hated it so bad. Being forced to pay attention under such scrutiny. Foreced to interact with people. Forced to learn something I didn't want to.

I remember crying a few times from being overwhelmed both at church and in the classes. It sucked and I know people had it worse but it just clashed with my mindset and behavior. It messed with my hime life. I hatted all of it, not to mention having to wear dresses. Did I forget i

To mention i have terrible sensory issues that were another big part of why it was terrible??? Loud noise, crowded space, literally the feeling of my own skin. Guhh i wanna cry.

You can teach your kids religion! But for the love of everything don't make them sit through things kids can't handle. Read them stories, put on educational shows (i was a veggie tales kid) put them in fun groups focused on activities rather than sitting and listening.

Woah 3 rants in a day. ..

To be clear, I am not hating on the Christian religion. I'm expressing my feelings about how it was presented to me. I don't blame my parents, I kinda do, but not fully, they were just trying to get us involved in religion, yes, there were many fun and interesting programs that involved themes of religion that I mostly enjoyed and still think of fondly, but those were so much different from the ones I'm talking about here.

[thebongomediaempire]

If you don't vote Democrat in November, you'll regret it... IMMEDIATELY.

[mae-dwrites]

Tom and Jack are brothers - mainly DPxMLB (can be DPxDCxMLB)

It was clear from the moment Jack was born that he was Gina’s son, no one could doubt that overzealous nature, and while Tom didn't have the same level of entustatsum as his mother and brother it didn't mean he wasn't an excitable person either. Truly Roland had no idea how he didn't die living with them, the man didn't realize how much he was like them nor really saw how much Jack would go on to be like him in some ways.

One thing was for certain the boys loved their parents, the Fenton luck and sanguine as well as the Dupain passion and vigor were ever-present in the household growing up. Gina loved her boys very much, they were the only reason she stuck in one place for so long. However, she was able to convince Roland to take them all over the U.S. and Europe.

Jack went on to have a passion for inventing and ghosts, both of which Roland looked down upon but Gina was his biggest supporter followed by Tom. Tom ended up enjoying baking with his father. (Jack tended to forget a meal or two when he got too into his work. So it worked out.)

Jack would move out (taking his mother’s maiden name) and go to college in Wisconsin and meet Vlad and Maddie and fall in love and all that! Tom though opens a bakery a few years of baking for some personal events and such, and meets Sabine who moved to Paris to go to school, they fall in love and she takes business courses to help better run the bakery. Roland does his…thing and he never approved of Jack’s hobbies either, “that's not what job a family man takes on” or something, he of course doesn't try to contact him. He gets to be a grumpy old man in (guilty) peace.

Tom and Jack have never missed anything, they're best friends and each other’s biggest supporters. Best man, holiday’s, etc. So of course they make sure their kids have plenty of meetings despite being an ocean away. They couldn't have been happier that their kids were so close in age, which meant they wouldn't struggle to connect.

It was quick to be seen none of the kids showed signs of the Dupain shape, oh well maybe they’d still get the strength? Or perhaps the Fenton luck would just be much stronger. To say where the kids got their size from was an understatement, and to say very amusing to their wives and mother.

Marinette loved her cousins and didn't like how it was only every so often she got to see them. And her aunt and uncle were very cool, and reminded her of Nonna Gina. It was fun to see Uncle Jack lift her papa up, he was the only person she’d ever seen who could pick up her papa.

Jazz and Danny loved the Dupain-Chengs, they seemed to help level their parents out and they actually set aside their ghost obsession to just be a family. Not to mention they made the best food, going to their home was the best, you never got attacked by the food!

Jazz, Marinette, and Danny were as thick as thieves as their dads were, they were a unit. Which meant Marinette had called Jazz and Danny after she had taken the earrings off, and Danny had called Marinette to tell her about how he was dealing with his powers after dying.

And the next time the Fenton’s came to the Dupain-Cheng’s maybe Marinette and Danny hugged a little longer and a little tighter than usual, and Jazz spent her time glued to the younger girl’s side.

[brittlebutch]

i really do still routinely forget how old i am. i have finally moved past the impulse-answer of still being a teenager, but now i seem to be stuck at like '22' and then i get jumpscared by the 'you are 27 years old' that finally clicks in a second later.

[seilon]

love when this is referred to as the gifted kid website. shockingly my mental disorders made me mentally disordered and school never really vibed with that so. couldn’t be me

[pynkhues]

https://x.com/getawaybitch28/status/1809345991503438096

This is interesting

This show honestly has such a great attention to detail. Like, I know they've obviously got the books there to guide them creatively across the board, but they've really done such a great job of folding these longer term plot points in.

[guinevereslancelot]

decided to leave my job and i'm gonna fr gonna cryyyyy