#moral stories for kids
Into the Spider-Verse is, undoubtedly, a Miles Morales movie, yet I can’t help but feel sympathy for Peter B. Parker and relate to him more than to Miles as the twenty something kid that I am. The moral of the story the movie presents is there, and it’s Miles’ moral, but Peter’s character story and arc is also there and it’s maybe sadder than you think in that funny, light movie, but so important to me.
Gen Z and Millennials can definitely relate to the older Peter, even if he’s 38 years old. He’s tired, he’s done, he just wants some rest, he resents his responsibilities, he’s screwed up more times than he remembers, he’s not much of a fan of kids, he doesn’t even care about proper spelling (”There's always a bypass key, a virus key, a who-cares key, I can never remember so I just call it a goober.”). Honestly, mood. And I’m only in college, people.
See, there is this moment in the movie that is supposed to serve as a comedic moment: Miles tries to say “with great power comes great responsibility” but Peter abruptly cuts him off, almost screaming “don’t you dare finish that sentence, don’t do it!”. Then he follows with “I’m sick of it.” And then he says “My advice? Go back to being a regular kid.”
Peter still tries to live by the words of his uncle, but where at the beginning they were his motivation and something that gave his life meaning, now they’re a resented responsibility drawing a circle he can’t break out from. He’s been slowly losing his passion for being Spider-Man, just putting the suit on because he feels like he has to. He even says that Mary Jane scared him by her wanting kids. He’s scared to move on and to be something else, something more than just Spider-Man. There's also the reason of him not wanting to see his kid go what he's gone through, and that being a parentless family, but that's half of the problem.
When you get a close up
you can see the determination on his face, but there are also a broken nose, bags under his eyes, the hair he doesn’t even care to pull back, the gray skin, the scruff, a few wrinkles even, and... sadness. He’s genuinely sad, he’s depressed, and so done with everything. But he’s not one to quit. He’s still living by Ben’s words.
Those words have become his curse because he lost his way somewhere along his life, because he overdid it with understanding the words. It’s like with Titanic where they were supposed to have women on the lifeboats first, and then men, but they just let the women step into the lifeboats because they didn’t understand the command. That being said, instead of being just a motivation and inspiration, Ben’s words became something he can’t let go of, almost like a drug, like a sick addiction, and maybe he does see it, maybe he doesn’t, but it’s there, and it’s determining his life. He can’t help but loathe them. He doesn’t allow himself to be something else but these words. He is those words, nothing else.
There’s a moment in the movie where Aunt May tells him, “you look tired.” And he genuinely replies, “I am tired.” I may or may not have shed a tear, because that was the perfect reflection of how he felt and how lost he was. He was tired of being who he was and still pursued that path. Sounds relatable? Because it is.
Things happen, movie ends, and while Miles’ moral of the story is that everyone can wear a mask and nobody’s ever ready to be a hero, that they just grow into it, and all you need is that little spark, Peter B. Parker learns that the words he’s lived by aren’t what should make his life sad, broken, and resentful. He learns that he’s just a person like any other, not just words. Thanks to the little journey with Miles he learns over again that being Spider-Man is supposed to be fun and a responsibility among other things, not only a responsibility determining his day-to-day life 24/7. Peter learns that being a hero does require a lot of sacrifice, but it’s just a part of who he is, and that he has the right to be happy.
I don’t know what you got out of the movie, but in my opinion, Peter B. Parker teaches you in this movie that you have the right to be happy. You have the right to live a good life despite one or more responsibilities that set up your daily basis, whether it’s a job or a problem you’ve had for a while. You can still be happy.
I stepped out of the movie theater thinking, “goddammit, why don’t people remember that you can still be happy nowadays? Why do people determine their lives by only the bad things? Why are we like this? Why am I like this?” And honestly? Despite all the bullsh*t, all the crap, and all the small or big problems, I deserve some happiness, man. And so do you.
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The moral of the story. (Insp.)
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Daddy long legs tucks rocket princess into bed :)
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The messy imperfection of Greg screaming that he needs Steven and that’s why he shouldn’t go back, goddd. Everyone just needs a blanket and a hug right now. There’s Steven, worried he’ll never be able to forgive himself if the Gems die and he could have saved them, and literally everyone else working so hard to try and make sure that’s exactly what happens because they’re all guilt-ridden messes.
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Ducktales giving kids an amazing story. Great plots, good morals, and now inclusion (the wheelchaired woodchuck and Violet’s parents). And one of the best remakes ever.
And for everyone who grew up watching 90’s afternoon cartoons, we’re getting all of that and the awesome surprise of great cameos and characters from other 90’s Disney cartoons.
Darkwing Duck. My favourite cameo.
Goof Troop Goofy, PJ, and the amazing nod to teenage Max and Roxanne from A Goofy Movie.
Don Karnage from Tailspin.
The Three Caballeros.
The original Ducktales outfits in the Quack Pack episode.
Also the nod to the Quack Pack series.
And Gene the Genie from Ducktales the Movie.
There’s so much more I haven’t listed and we should expect a lot more. Like Daisy Duck finally making an appearance in Ducktales. Goofy and Daisy being the first Mickey Mouse clubhouse characters to ever make an appearance in Ducktales, unless you count watermelon Mickey (voice by the actual Mickey Mouse VA). Also, Gosalyn from Darkwing Duck, more Tailspin characters, and Chip n Dale Rescue Rangers. I can’t wait.
There’s also this amazing reference to the actual Camp Woodchuck Kitchen at Disneyland Tokyo.
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Thesis: Star Wars is the moral antithesis of Harry Potter.
I’ve been haunted by this thought for awhile—imagine if the Jedi Order acted the same way about the Force as Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic act about magic. The political, philosophical, and moral worldviews of George Lucas (pro-immigration, pro-diversity) and J. K. Rowling (exclusionist and isolationist) are on display.
In Star Wars, what is the name for people who are not Force sensitive? There isn’t one. They’re sentient people, fully imagined, despite lacking the ability to manipulate the Force. The entire concept of a “muggle” as an amorphous dehumanized threat who do not deserve the assistance of magic is something extremely revealing.
The Ministry’s Statue of Secrecy is a bizarre form of austerity where the have-nots (muggles) are set free to suffer without any guilt or concern of those who have (wizards). It’s justified loosely by the thought that wizards will be swarmed, robbed, and killed by the muggles. They consider muggles both lesser and dangerous, even the “good guys.”
The Jedi Order’s mandate on the other hand is to keep the peace and protect the rights of sentients across the galaxy. There may be concerns that they may be kidnapped and used for their powers, but they are trusted to be able to extricate themselves and that danger is considered less important than the good that the Jedi could facilitate.
Honestly the entire Wizarding World is isolated and broken out into ethnic groups. There is little to any communication or concern of the wizards of the UK with the people (wizards AND muggles) of the rest of the world. There is instantaneous magical transportation—there is no excuse for this isolation. The diversity of species on the Jedi Council and among the Jedi is completely different.
In terms of the narrative, Harry discovers without any particular effort of his own that he is nature’s nobility and is swept away to a life of privilege in the most exclusive school. His life is afterward dedicated to policing his community and upholding the systems of power that hide and restrict magic.
Anakin uses his powers to help others, and then is too swept away to a life of privilege at the center of the galaxy. The fundamental difference is what the Temple teaches: Jedi are raised and trained to help all others, not just other human Jedi. They are externally focused, compassionate, and dedicated—their lives to making the galaxy a more peaceful place.
The Jedi Temple just does not function like Hogwarts. Imagine if it did—imagine if the Jedi were just trained to use their Force sensitivity to create a lifestyle full of selfish, bourgeois comforts. Imagine if they had no concern for the galaxy at large, and thought that the discovery of their privileged lifestyle was worse than preventable genocide.
Palpatine manipulates the Jedi into being part of the force that upholds corrupt systems of power like Aurors, and this is remarkable because it is so different than what their core beliefs allow. They are trying to uphold peace and remain compassionate and helpful, but are killed for their efforts. Their goal still always extended beyond trying to police rogue dark-siders and hide the existence of the Force.
There’s like a million other things to say but I’ll stop here. Both of these media properties are aimed at 10-12-year-olds. Based on the interviews with Lucas that I’ve read, he was extremely conscious of the moral lessons taught and intentional about his philosophy of openness. I can’t say I’ve ever seen the same from Rowling.
Preemptive edit: the situation is more complicated than one short, rambling tumblr post will allow. This is not a perfect take and doesn't pretend to have taken all nuances into account. It is just something I noticed and wanted to share on my prequel-positive and jedi-positive blog.
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Lance singing: They say, that when your life is over. You will see the happiest of times. Maybe this is all an illusion. Created by my dying mind. Do i care if you are no longer with me? Do i care that i will die alone? All i care is i see you besides me. Now and until i die.
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Sora, standing above the fading bodies of Organization XIII after all his party members died: We did it...we won...but at what cost...?
The Game: *sparkles* LVL up! AP boost! Learned Second Chance! Max HP! Lear
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Don't trust the tech kids
There's a group of kids at my school (me included) who do AV (audio-visual/lights and sound) for the school, and because my school has a nice auditorium that we rent out, one of us has to be there every time, so technically we're employed by the school (and we get paid). This means on Saturdays where we get hired for these jobs, we can sometimes convince the custodians to give us the master key. Now, we do so much for the school and we help the janitors 24/7 so they trust us right? They shouldn't. A few months ago, we took down all the measurements for the master key (opens every door in the school) and we copied the pattern, then one of the other technicians made a 3d printed copy of said key. It worked, so now we have access to every room in the school, including the security office to disable the cameras. Now, we have key blanks that we're going to cut to make proper metal keys, and we'll have perfect copies of the master key for the rest of our time there, and nobody knows it. At first we thought it was illegal, but we got access to the boards policy on keys and found out that it's more of a grey area, and since we're employed by the school, we can't actually get in trouble for it. Moral of the story, don't ever trust the tech kids. We're too smart for our own good.
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👉👈 am I allowed to ask to hear more about why there's no fatal flaws in tma because it's making my brain go whrrr
mostly bcos like, Classically, a fatal flaw is one flaw within an otherwise p much perfectly heroic/favored-by-fate person, that they cannot/will not change, and that is the root cause of their tragic downfall
jon doesn't fit the classic greek hero archetype, like, at ALL (he'd have to be... an entirely different person tbh), and his downfall was not like, he fucked up as a person in one specific way (often like, a Moral Lesson way); it was about a conglomeration of events, of causes and effects, and him making difficult & limited choices with limited information.
like, i'm not saying jon has no flaws! it is in fact the plural of flaws that stops there being a Fatal One. also that they are smaller, that they are not the sole ultimate cause of his (or the world's) destruction, and that he does in fact, several times throughout the series, recognize some of his own flaws and actively work to change them, in ways that actually alter his path (his choice to trust people, for example, DOES change his arc. as does his choice to stop killing avatars. etc etc.)
like, a greek tragedy has a fairly specific formula? and it IS formulaic. tma doesn't fit that, bcos it's a much more modern story with modern nuances and a very different way of looking at the world than the ancient greeks had.
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little bumps in the road (pt. 23)
Previously on LBitR...
Lena doesn’t even get a full second to process the full impact of Alex’s words. Almost the second after Lena’s eyes register the Supergirl sigil on that little screen, all lights in the bunker go out with a deafening boom.
The pager-like device still showing the sigil casts an eerie glow on Alex’s face, and its green hue is far too reminiscent of Kryptonite for Lena to keep looking at it.
“That can’t be good,” the agent mutters grimly.
Lena is inclined to agree, but doesn’t respond beyond a curt nod Alex probably can’t even see. Her eyes are glued to where she knows the door of her cell is, even if she can’t see a foot past her own nose.
Her mind conjures up an image of Lex emerging from the shadows in the corridor, laughing madly, face illuminated by green, teeth in his shark-like grin gleaming in the sickly, radioactive glow of Kryptonite.
He’s not there, of course. They wait with bated breath in the darkness, expecting something—anything—to happen, enveloped by a panic neither of them dares voice.
“Lena?” Alex tries, but Lena waves her off.
“Shush,” she hisses. They can’t see anything, so Lena closes her eyes and concentrates on listening, trying to focus on the sounds—or lack thereof.
She doesn’t really know what she’s listening for, exactly. Maybe the lights will just come back on. Maybe the whole bunker will get blown up. Maybe, any minute now, they’ll hear the distinctive clicking of Lex’s expensive leather shoes from the corridor as he approaches with a pep to his step.
Alex holds her breath—Lena can hear her sharp intake followed by nothing at all, and she almost tells her not to bother, except she suddenly does hear something.
There’s a muted click, right above their heads, followed by moments of something that sounds a lot like radio static—electronic hissing and cutting out, intermittent and exasperating.
Then, there’s something else. The static fades, and is almost immediately replaced by a thud-and-click, and then…
There’s music, coming through what Lena now knows are hidden speakers, concealed in the ceiling.
She turns to Alex. “Can you hear—” Lena begins, only to cut herself short as the hairs on her arms stand. The wave of goosebumps is a symptom of the chill that suddenly overtakes her as Lena recognizes the opening notes that come before Frank Sinatra’s distinctive voice.
And now, the end is near… And so I face the final curtain…
“Motherfucker,” Lena hisses, knocking her forehead against the glass with a little more force than is perhaps warranted.
The moment she does, however, there’s a louder, much more ominous-sounding hiss. Lena’s eyes snap open and upwards in search of the source, but she can’t locate it.
Until she see’s Alex’s panicked look in the low light of her device, as a thick fog descends around the agent.
“What the hell—” Alex begins to say, but it prompts a fit of coughing; within seconds, the gas in her cell is so thick Lena can barely see her.
“Alex!” Lena shouts, slamming the barrier between them with her good fist repeatedly, feeling the bones in her hand ache as they thud uselessly against inches of reinforced glass. “Alex!”
It’s too late, of course. The gas is thick as smoke in the other cell, swirling menacingly in the glow of Alex’s device, and it just keeps coming, saturating the space. It’s already hard to see, but now Lena can barely make out just how hard Alex fights to stay conscious.
“No, no, no!”
Lena’s screams reverberate in the small space, her hand still slamming uselessly against the barrier. Alex suddenly slaps her hand onto the glass—its impact echoes above Lena’s screams, above the song that gets progressively louder to taunt them through the speakers above.
“Lena!” Alex gasps through a cough, her voice already wavering as she struggles to keep her eyes open. “Lena—”
Lena mirrors her position, splaying her own palm over Alex’s on the other side of the glass. Before she can say anything, Alex’s eyes flutter closed despite her best efforts, and her hand slips away, squeaking and leaving a faint trail of sweat as she falls limply to the floor.
Barely seconds after Alex’s body thuds onto the ground, there’s another hiss, and Lena recognizes it immediately as the distinctive sound of her cell door sliding open a few feet away.
She almost wishes Lex had come to the cell in person, if only so she could punch him, even with her non-dominant hand. Lena wants to claw at his face, make him hurt, bleed. She wants him to suffer.
Of course, he’s not there. He’s probably cackling to himself behind an array of screens, sitting back on some stupidly expensive high-backed chair as he watches his deranged machinations unfold.
There’s nothing at Lena’s cell door, not even lights. Lena has to take a long moment before she goes—she tries to look through the glass, tries to see if Alex is even breathing on the other side, but the gas has grown so dense Lena can’t even see her anymore.
My Way grows louder and louder, straining the tinny speakers and Lena’s ears all at once as she tries to follow the wall of her cell to the door, hands outstretched to the darkness when she turns into the corridor, retracing the steps she took when she had been escorted here.
There’s a faint, barely noticeable light at the end of the pitch-black corridor. It blinks in a familiar hue of green, and it makes Lena want to turn the other way around and run.
She doesn’t, of course. Trying would be futile.
The damn song keeps playing as Lena slowly, painstakingly makes her way down the corridor toward the light. It builds, then it ends, only to begin again, set on a loop. The memories of Lex raging against Superman at the dinner table while Sinatra played in the background at Luthor Manor are seared in Lena’s memory, and it’s like Lex knows it. He probably does.
Lex had always been dramatic. Lena briefly wonders if he would have been able to curb his homicidal impulses had he gone into theatre or something.
The thought does a bit too much of a good job in distracting her, because after what feels like a whole mile of walking in the darkness, Lena’s finally reached the source of the eerie green glow that has been guiding her hesitant steps. When she sees it, Lena has to swallow against the bile rising in her throat.
It’s a Lexosuit.
It’s an empty one, waiting there for her like some kind of robot awaiting orders, and Lena wants to scream; she wants to yell and kick at the abominable contraption.
“If you think I’m putting that on,” she says, loud, clear, and determined, because she knows her brother can hear her, “you are fucking mistaken.”
The empty suit’s visor lights up, and Lex’s voice comes through, clear as crystal.
“Well, why not?” he says, sounding endlessly amused. Lena wipes at errant tears that escape her control and run down her cheeks; she’s not sure if Lex can see her, but if he does, she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
He laughs, ominous and gleeful all at once. “Come on, Lena. I wanted you to have more than a front-row seat this time.”
Lena can practically hear his widening grin; it makes her grit her teeth, jaw clenching painfully at the cheerful tone of his voice. “Killing Supergirl is now a fully immersive experience!”
Lena clenches her good fist at her side, trying her best not to reel back and punch the suit out of blinding hot fury. She needs to save that punch for her brother’s face.
“You’re out of your goddamn mind, Lex,” she says instead, injecting as much confidence as she can, even as she feels her legs begin to tremble as the suit begins to seemingly disintegrate before her eyes.
“Now, Lena, that’s just hurtful,” Lex’s voice comes through, still clear as day, as the Kryptonite-powered nanites that make up the suit begin to envelop Lena’s body from her feet up.
Lena can’t move, she can’t even flinch; she is frozen in the spot as the nanites shroud her body like a living swarm. She’s biting her bottom lip until it bleeds, trying to concentrate on her mental boxes, on the sound of Kara’s voice, of the worry in her eyes. The reconstructed visor envelops her head entirely, and Lex’s voice rings through hear ears.
“You’re just going to have to trust me, Lena.”
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fans: why is it called villainous nights, there's nothing 'villainous' about it, the characters or the syndicate!
lovestruck: *introduces Renzei season 2*
lovestruck: *reveals Renzei is a double agent*
lovestruck: *reveals the Syndicate isn't morally pure*
fans: WHAT THE FUCK havVE YOU doNE!!!!!!!!!?
fans: this is bAD WRITING!!!
fans: FUCK RENZEI, FUCK THIS PLOT!
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Moral of the Story: Always make friends with gangsters, kids. Life will get incredibly easier as a result.
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this is how i hold a pen
it frightens a lot of people
my first grade teacher mrs. mccreary would get so mad every time she saw me and jammed one of these things on my pencil and i snatched it off the second she turned around
they now look like this which is terrifying
like fingers in prison
anyway i always snatched those dumb grips off and continued holding my pen like a neanderthal and this is my handwriting now
i also drew this
the moral of the story kids is when they try to put a dumb grip on your pencil tell em where they can put it instead
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i volunteer in the cat room at a cat cafe, right? so there was this group that came in, parents and their kids. so these kids were toddlers, and if that wasnt bad enough, they were running around and screaming, scaring all the cats!!
so, after playing on her ipad for a little, the ringleader kid was shining a laser pointer in the cats eyes ?? one of the cats went and clawed her and she just YELLED. but im like “hey maybe dont do that and you wont get hurt” and she swats at me! im like “o..k???” so i go to the parents like “hey can you control your kids” but.. they !! didnt do anything !!!!!! then the kid runs around with the laser for a little.
i go to her parents again, and they still dont do anything and no authority could be found, like the owner? gone. my manager? gone. older volunteers? g-o-n-e GONE. so i was kinda stuck.
so the kid eventually trips, and it makes the loudest noise, all the cats run away, i almost had a heart attack, it wasnt fun. so i stepped in just.. yoinked the thing out of her hand. it was THEN that the mother finally said something to her, and then she looked at me and got really mad at me for taking the lazer pointer from her kid like ????? lmao fuck you too.
they left immediately after but on the way out, remember how i said this kid had an ipad? yeah she dropped it and the screen broke and i was so happy like yes !!! karma !!!
moral of the story: control your fucking kids, especially around animals or youll pay for it
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A very belated Moulin Rouge headcanon...
So I was lying on the floor watching Moulin Rouge (as one does when one has a multitude of final exams to study for). And so my stupid sentimental self is looking at Satine’s dress for One Day I’ll Fly Away, and it’s pretty much an exact model for Tessa’s dress from ACI. And so at first I was thinking that at was kind of a bummer that she changed it. It was sort of cool that Tessa and Scott were throwing out real Satine and Christian vibes. So I was thinking about why they would change it so much. And I kind of figured that it was probably because they were portraying an interpretation of Moulin Rouge, rather than the actual exact plot line. But then I was like:
It’s because it’s not the story of Satine and Christian, it’s the story of Tessa and Scott.
I know that probably seems super stupid and obvious and has probably already been discussed thousands of times, but it really hit me hard (like most things having to do with Tessa and Scott).
Welp, that’s enough internet for one evening :)
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one thing I will always appreciate about Princess Tutu is that every episode begins by immediately presenting some moral dilemma thought experiment like “is it possible to preserve peace through violent means?” and the soft ballet music of the opening credits plays while you mentally process it
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🖋Tattooed🖋 : 15 - 30
previous // next
I like how this idea came to me at two in the morning and it’s not even that great🙃 Moral of story: go to bed early kids
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