#that’s the good stuff
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Whumpee slips a note into a stranger’s palm, hoping they’ll understand the cry for help hastily scribbled on the scrap of paper.
But the stranger only smirks and hands the note to Whumper. “You should watch them a little closer.”
#the paralyzing fear Whumpee feels in that moment#watching Whumper’s expression shift as they read the note#that’s the good stuff#betrayal can still sting from a stranger#Whumpee will never ask for help again#whump
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THIS is the ideal “love triangle —> awkward throuple pipeline” dynamic, to me
#there should be one more line from both established partners to the new person saying they’d both kill for them in a heartbeat#again - doesn’t necessarily have to be FULLY romantic all around depending on the situation#but there has to be a BOND - you know??#that’s what i’m talking about#that’s the good stuff
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nothing will ever hit harder than realizing dutch was always like that. that he didn’t actually change or go insane. that he always had that in him - the cruelty and the violence and the bigotry. that in the end he was all talk, because back when things were good for him he could talk. he could preach and pat himself on the back for being so morally superior and he could stroke his own ego by ‘saving’ all the unfortunates, feeling unique because these outcasts weren’t accepted by anybody else but him. but it didn’t actually amount to anything.
all those things you once respected him for saying - calling the gang family and arthur his son and defending the native americans and telling the gang to never leave love aside and his support of equality and his criticisms of society and privilege and corruption and power - all of it comes to nothing. it means nothing. it becomes ashes in his mouth. because in the end he betrays his family and he abandons his son and he irrevocably harms the native americans and he does leave love aside, he does prove himself to be an oppressive white man when it comes down to it and he does revel in his power and his title and he does become corrupted as he demands unquestioning loyalty and faith in the same way those he claims to oppose do.
and goddamn he was always like this. but when it was good it never showed, not truly, not in ways that were noticeable. and he’s a tarot card because what he is now and what he was then are the same but when circumstances change so do the worst parts of you come forth. and your true self is revealed. and that’s what happened to dutch. and it hurts because everything he preached he betrayed and everyone who loved him and who he claimed to love he abandoned. and in the end everything he built and everything he said meant nothing. it was all for nothing. the people he used and abused and manipulated became nothing to him. and he’s just smoke. he’s not a martyr. he’s not a relic. he’s not like arthur or hamish or john. he’s just words in the fucking wind.
#dutch van der linde#rdr2#red dead redemption#red dead redemption 2#arthur morgan#ahskshsksh I AM SO ANGRY WITH HIM ALL THE TIME#i love him I hate him I want to beat his face into the ground#if he so much as looks at Arthur I will stomp him to death with my hooves#ugh#what a good character#anyways this is actually an appreciation post it’s just that it’s appreciation for the complex way he was written#and this the complex way he makes me feel#that’s the good stuff
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me reading smut: *completely straight face*
me reading any couple kissing: *completely straight face*
me when kaz holds inej’s hand without gloves: OH YEAH that’s the good stuff
#they’re my favourites can you tell?#they’re perfect your honour#kanej#kaz brekker#inej ghafa#six of crows#six of crows duology#ik this had been done before but this is my take on it#literally though i can read any couple doing romantic shit without caring much#but kanej? holding hands? showing such a beautiful sign if progressing in their relationship?#that’s the good stuff#crooked kingdom
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sometimes the relationship between a lonely middle aged gay guy and a 17 year old faildyke heiress on the run from her crazy ass gay dad is something that can be SO personal
#thinking about my wip again and. man#jamie and her fledgling collection of gay losers and father figures huh#that’s the good stuff
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Jerm doodle I love him sm I need to dissect him
#you ever go through the annotations of the LGW lyrics on Genius dot com#if u haven’t u need to#that’s the good stuff#bmc#jeremy heere
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when jason wants to be a priest and build shrines for all the gods and piper wants to overthrow them all for fucking up her & her friends’ lives 🥴
#that’s the good stuff#i’ve been thinking about this for 2 days#piper mclean#jason grace#riordanverse
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Baby Gabriel tucking the book from his mother into the blanket he has wrapped around his shoulder and murmuring a soft but confident “oui” when his mother basically says they might be walking into a massacre or that they’ll be held and Gabriel could be used against them is just character perfection how I am not supposed to immediately fall in love with a character defined by this experience but still loves time after time?
#the bastard son & the devil himself#tbsatdh#half bad#gabriel#gabriel boutin#do you ever just#doyouhearmescreaming#iwilllovegabrielforever#that’s the good stuff
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I read a post once where the person thought back on how they’d struggled so much with depression and whatnot. They weren’t sure they’d make it, but they were writing the post from their couch as they listened to their spouse and child play, so much happier than they ever thought they could be.
That post kept me going thru some of the hardest years so far of my life. We’ve both been thru so much, beating the scars physically and mentally. We’re stronger for it, but gods, what a journey.
And now I’m lying on our couch with our dog curled up against me, in our first apartment together, your first at all, listening to you sing and make dinner, talking to our plethora of cats (probably a tortie). And all I can think is that I never thought I’d get to be this happy, even if that post was the last shred of hope I clung to sometimes. I never could have seen you coming; you make me so happy, I’ve been struggling not to cry for days now.
This is the good stuff.
#tw depression#my pets#love you big bunches#lgbtq#queer love#elysiumwaits#my love#my wife#it gets better#kenny chesney#that’s the good stuff
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That little sound of pain that comes out of an exhausted Whumpee when Whumper presses hard against a fresh bruise.
#barely conscious and therefore unable to stifle the noise#especially rewarding with defiant Whumpees#who try so hard not to make a sound#that’s the good stuff#whump
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ALSO a trope/dynamic I’ve discovered I love is angst caused by feeling an incredible inexplicable closeness to someone that comes from the fact that you’re secretly related and they’re dying to tell you but that would spoil the “mission”
#that angst that came from Rohan introducing himself as his dad’s name at Rahul’s house#and Rahul later almost calling him Rohan because ✨THE VIBES✨#WHEN EUN GYEOL HITS YICHAN WITH THE “YOU SAVED MY LIFE MANY TIMES IN OUR PAST LIFE”#WHEN YICHAN CIRCLES BACK TO IT BY TELLING HIM HE’LL BE BORN AS HIS FATHER IN THE NEXT LIFE#THAT’S THE GOOD STUFF#give me more recs for things like this guys#elly's posts#tropes we love#k3g#twinkling watermelon
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me every few days: I think I’m done being insane about Trigun now 🥰
me after seeing one (1) thing that reminds me of Trigun: time to think about them and nothing else for six straight hours 🥰
#at least once a week I flood ur guys dash with Trigun stuff#this is the cycle this is the ritual#in other news I’m really glad to see more interest in spacw westerns lately hehe#that’s the GOOD stuff#squawk tag
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hey Madoka Magica episode 10
what the actual FUCK
#Hnnnng I am in agony#Been thinking abt watching Madoka since that time traveler poll tournament thing#And I’ve gotta say#It hurts real bad#That’s the good stuff#Also other than y’know the magical girls and the witches the setting is noice#The architecture? The tech? The walkable city?#👌🏻👌🏻#also banger soundtrack
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There is a Child
Chapter 1
The place where Jedi go to die, that was what Mustafar was called. It was hellish world, Plo Koon thought. The Force was thin here, like the air. Living things did dwell here but they were extremely hard to pinpoint. It was as if the ash storms held their own sway over what even the Force could convey. The sheer lack of moisture in the air, the inescapable baking oven of heat that rose from the ground itself… but he had to be here.
Why?
Well. The Force was why.
It had drawn him to the Outer Rim like a light in the darkest of nights. A beacon. But… for what? What was here that Plo Koon needed to see? Was the Force testing him? Trying to teach him something that he couldn’t learn in the comfortable, populated halls of the Temple on Coruscant.
“How to survive extreme conditions, perhaps?” the Kel Dor asked, opening his mind to the Force to try to perceive what he was so obviously missing. “Teach me, Master. I shall learn.”
Plo Koon was answered with the always-roar of the volcanoes in the distance, and the hiss of lava tubes just on the other side of the cliff side that he’d perched himself to meditate. He was very glad his rebreather blocked the scent of brimstone and sulfur from his scent organs.
But then something different reaching the Kel Dor’s ears. Clattering. Stone on stone. He looked up just as a… a bare foot? What was a humanoid without protective gear doing out among the lava flows?
Plo got to his feet, braced himself, and lept up to the plateau. He landed flat footed and whirled, looking for… anyone.
A panicked whimper drew his attention to an ash-blasted huddle of rocks near the plateau’s center that Plo quickly realized weren’t just rocks. There was a little figure hunched down behind one of them. A figure with bright, lamp-like eyes that peered up over the rock’s edge.
“Hello?” Plo called gently. “Hello, who are you? What are you called?”
The eyes blinked.
Plo was glad he didn’t have to remove his hood. They could be intimidating sometimes. He stepped closer and the creature behind the rock hissed.
“Easy. Easy there. My name is Plo Koon. I am a Jedi. Do you know the Jedi?”
The creature’s head shook. Once. They spoke Basic. Very good.
“I… am very surprised to find you here, little friend. Might I… get a better look at you?”
Nothing happened for a long moment. But then the creature straightened, somewhat, and hobbled toward Plo uncertainly.
It was a child. A boy, by Plo’s assumption. A little red-skinned Zabrak with tiny, pearly horns crowning his smooth scalp. The naturally amber eyes didn’t meet Plo’s face. Always downcast. Hidden in the black intricate black markings adorning him head to toe. Tattoos, Plo knew, were a Zabrak tradition, but these… Dathomiri, maybe?
But then Plo took in the boy’s clothes. Or lack thereof. He was naked; Plo guessed possibly his clothes had caught fire because the boy was holding a scrap of cloth in one small, desperate fist.
The boy was absolutely filthy. Not just from dirt and ask. There was… waste dried to the boy’s skin. And perhaps blood. Old, healing and fresh wounds marred the tattoos’ artistry.
And the boy was thin. So horribly thin.
“Little one… what are you called?”
The boy’s breaths were ragged, each one exposing ribs and collarbones and even his sternum. But he managed to gather enough air to speak after several long moments of panting. “D… Deenine call- calls m-me… Maul.”
It took an hour to get the boy to let Plo touch him. But the expression on the child’s face was so painfully desperate for… anything that the Jedi refused to just give up. The boy, Maul, kept mentioning Deenine. And The Man. That they would be angry. But Plo calmly and gently explained that whoever those people were, Plo would take the boy somewhere that they could never find him. Somewhere with food and a warm bath and cool drink.
Maul didn’t seem to know what a “bath” was. Plo wasn’t surprised. The boy looked like some degree of filth was how he’d existed all his life. There was no telling how old the boy was without tests; his emaciated state spoke of chronic starvation and dehydration. He might be as old as ten but be stunted due to this treatment.
Who would do this?
Why? What purpose could possibly be served by such cruelty? Anger rose in him and Plo hurriedly released it into the Force, which was difficult as there was more of it boiling up from his spirit.
Plo had no answers.
But when he was at last able to lift the boy, wrapped in his soft, brown robe… There was one. Maul was why he’d come to Mustafar.
Walking quickly back to his ship, Plo spoke softly and kindly to the boy. Maul just watched him. He looked frightened half to death. But… he wasn’t trying to get away. No. His fists were clenched around a fold of PLO’s robe so tightly that the diamonds on his knuckles looked grayish pink instead of black.
Once, Plo heard what he thought was a voice, shouting in the howling heat winds. But he kept going. And instead of trying to cast out with his feelings, Plo focused on shielding both himself and the boy. Whatever was happening on this planet, Plo didn’t want to stick around. When they were through the atmosphere and among the stars, only then did Plo relax his shoulders.
“Maul, there is a rat-“ But the sounds of tearing wrappers and greedy eating reached Plo’s auditory organs. The Kel Dor smiled. “Slowly now. Else you will be sick.”
There was a pause. Obedient. Quick. And then an adjustment in the sounds. Slower. More methodical. Plo winced. He hated the thought of the boy being so visibly hungry, but having to control himself even now. It was a cruelty, almost. But an unfortunately necessary one.
“M… Master,” came the earnest, hoarse little voice. Plo marveled at how polished the boy’s accent was. He almost sounded Coruscant with such clipped and proper tone; it was highly out of place.
“You may call me Plo, young one.”
There was a long silence.
Thinking. Much thinking.
“Plo…? I… can stay with you? I…” The boy’s voice trembled with sudden tears and Plo couldn’t restrain himself from reaching back to place a comforting hand on the boy’s head. Maul jumped under the touch. A flinch. Born of pain and terror. “I-I do not have to go back?”
“No,” Plo assured, turning to see the boy. “No, Maul. Never. You are safe now. Safe.”
The little boy cried. He cried until his sobs turned to hiccups and his eyes fell shut with tears still on his face. An exhausted, surrendering sleep overtook Maul and he slumped, finally against the passenger seat, wrapped snugly in Plo Koon’s robe. Plo passed feelings of comfort, safety and peace to the boy, pressing them down over any nightmare that may assail the little Zabrak’s so badly needed rest.
And then he activated his hyper drive. It was time to go home.
#okay folks#I did it#idk why but Plo Koon being the discoverer of little force sensitive children is just#that’s the good stuff#we’re going to skip ahead in the next chapter#and then return#back and forth in time#I think#jedi!maul#Maul and 38 AU#we don’t know what she’ll be named in this one yet#but I hope y’all like it 😘🫶🏻#darth maul
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Thinking about yangs Mixed feelings about Blake coming back tonightttttt
+ the full doodle
#rwby#bumbleby#yang xiao long#blake belladonna#v5 angst wee wooo#my art#like yang missing Blake but still being angry at her#Then keeping her distance cause she doesn’t wanna get hurt again#And watching Blake grew closer with everyone else#she just wishes she could let Blake in again#that’s the good stuff
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