There is an unnamed show where the protagonists are glorified by the plot while doing horrible stuff with only like meta jokes about how fucked up it is/ not a lot of real thought put in by the creators. Because that show is aware of it, they address it pretty poorly and then go back on it immediately like... and that comes off as that show being okay with killing a group of people even if one of the siblings is a member of that group of people.
The Wittebanes’ have a similar relationship to that one in that show and they are the worst codependent sibling duo ever and the show knows it and that’s a huge part of Philip’s story. Philip’s a horrible person and doesn’t care about the bodily autonomy of his sibling while also putting his brother an a pedestal. He doesn’t care that his brother is a witch or made that choice for himself, it’s all about Philip and his needs. His crusade against innocent people for the supposed harm they did to him and his brother (under the guise of religion/his mission/”these people are bad”) is horrible and the Owl House is like all in on that. No sympathy for Philip. Ultimately it’s only a tragedy because of the people Philip left behind like Evelyn and Darius, and ofc Caleb and Hunter.
They’re doing the same/ similar shit it’s just totally about the context and I think that’s very silly. It’s wild that you can watch two pieces of media with this dynamic and one of them is like... “this abusive codependent relationship with consent problems is fine” and then the other one is like “This is not okay.”
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Snootles Rant: Lonely AF edition
Snootles does not feel well (she's fine just being dramatic) and is going to rant about being down bad (like seriously being horny on main right now do not perceive me)
*slumps on the floor* I wanna be a housewife so bad
I don't wanna work, I just wanna stay home and crochet/knit and then make some food
And then get absolutely pinned by my beast of a husband
Is that too much to ask????
Is it too much to ask for a big burly man to absolutely ruin me in bed but then he's dedicating himself to me in other ways???
I just wanna live on my own, at least. Crochet a bunch of flowers and vines and shit and decorate my place with them. I want friends I can just surprise with little crochet hearts or flowers and take on dinner dates.
*my ill figure pushes an image towards you* *muttering*
I just need to be under him
The photo in question:
Fuck I also love him
*holds these two pictures and cries more*
WHY MUST I BE CURSED?? I AM NOT PHYSICALLY WELL ENOUGH TO HANDLE THIS BEAUTY AT THIS HOUR
*it's late I should really go to bed*
Instead I shall complain more because as hard as I've tried to stay horny off main, I am unfortunately a weak-willed woman
And I am a simple woman with simple needs.
And those needs are currently to get fucking decimated by one of the above men. Fuck it, if not both
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reason #??? i want to live away from people: YOU STEAL THE AIR OUT OF MY LUNGS, YOU MAKE ME FEEL IT! I PRAY FOR EVERYTHING WE LOST, BUY BACK THE SECRETS! YOUR HAND FOREVER'S ALL I WANT! DON'T TAKE THE MONEY! DON'T TAKE THE MONEY! (“baby, love me! you've got me, runaway!”) YOU STEAL THE AIR OUT OF MY LUNGS, YOU MAKE ME FEEL IT! I PRAY FOR EVERYTHING WE LOST, BUY BACK THE SECRETS! YOUR HAND FOREVER'S ALL I WANT! DON'T TAKE THE MONEY! DON'T TAKE THE MONEY!
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sirius' love burned.
a flame, burning, scorching, until he'd go red and raw. he'd burn out everything in his way, passionate and loving. it would always be the same, lit up and consumed to nothing left and, even when he was still ash, he would continue burning, because his heart was filled with love.
(but maybe it was too much. he had always been too much; too loud, too disobedient. his father had told him: "you're just like your mother, boy. and you love the same way she does, and it ruined her.")
sirius' love burned.
it wouldn't start like that, though. it would be a match at first, a cigarette smoked together, lit by a snap of fingers, warm lips against his, warm skin against cold skin, alive still. it would be a grin from the other side of the room or a longing touch that would be too much to be friendship, the fuse, the spark.
sirius' love burned.
it had burned remus too. he had fallen in love with a mischievous smirk and with ringed, nicotine-stained fingers, with long hair draped against his skin and with raw passion. he had been in love before he realized it; there was no way that, one way or another, you wouldn't fall for sirius black. distant love, longing glances, burning at you until it consumed you wholly. love, real love, lips pressed against necks, tired smiles and tangled limbs.
sirius' love burned.
but remus liked playing with fire.
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