#’family’ child soldiers who he then murders each time they inevitably break past the abuse and refuse to participate in genocide????

[blorbofrommyshows]

has Disney ever gotten darker than the owl house?

Like? “I’m starting to think you make those things just to destroy them. You have fun with it. Admit it!” the implications of this line. kind of cannot believe this was in there like holy christ.

[unfaed]

𝖼𝗁𝖺 𝖾𝗎𝗇𝗐𝗈𝗈, 𝖼𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾, 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 ( 𝟤𝟩 + 𝟤𝟩𝟢 ) 𝗂𝗅𝗅𝗒𝗋𝗂𝖺𝗇 ― cauldron save you. it seems 𝗶𝗺 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗷𝘂𝗻 has finally made it to the capital, the general of armies from the spring court is said to be intuitive and is said to describe themselves with 𝖻𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗂𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝖺𝗄 𝗌𝗈𝗂𝗅 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾𝖿𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽, 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗅𝗍, 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗐𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 and with all of this in mind their short fused nature always seems to get them into trouble. may the mother hold them as they navigate this unthinkable time.

you were never a child.     you never had a family,     not really.     between your father pitting you and your brothers between each other,     and his abuse,     calling them family is a poor choice of words.     you are a steel hardened warrior by the time your father dies          :          &     perhaps it is the lack of tears that incriminate you,     the void of sympathy in your eyes as you stare into his casket          ―          but his death is partly pinned upon you,     and your younger brother,     by your older brother.     did you kill him?          no.          his death was too gentle,     too kind for a man like him,     to have been done at the hands of his sons.          did you wish you had killed him?          yes.

his presence no longer chains you,     no longer forces loyalty to a group that was just as bad as he.     your brother's constant fury,     words spat at you painting you a murderer,     pushes you further away and so,     you leave.     large,     scarred wings spread and he vanishes in the midst of the night.     without a word,     but a soft kiss to your mother's temple.     a wordless goodbye.

you are without a home,     a nomad,     for a few years.     you are a mercenary,     a hunter for those with the coin to pay,     but you are wounded by those who betrayed you.     a false lead,     an ambush,     yet they all lay dead.     worst than your current state,     hand pressed against side to stop the bleeding.     resting against a tree within the spring court,     you are found by a pair.     molten eyes are alert,     and your fingers never far from your sword.     a mother and her daughter.     you regard them as threats,     but it is only moments later,     that the young girl is sitting to your side,     flowers in hand to weave through your hair.     the first act of kindness,     and it makes you uncomfortable,     more so than when she presses ointment into your wound.     a healer.

it takes months,     before she convinces you to move to her home.     months of connecting,     of breaking down a layer of walls,     but you inevitably fall for the kind woman.     and you call her your home,     call wherever she is your home.     

you now inherit the title of general,     through fear and strength alone.     your wings are larger than most,     and you've often used them to protect in the past          :          the scars that littered them are signs of won battles,     through thick and thin,     survived far worse than soldiers of spring.     you've won them endless fights,     and you are rewarded for it.