#howling and sobbing and baying etc etc

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hour 14 of taking a break from art for the sake of my tendons: i am Wailing and Keening and Scratching Forlornly At My Tablet

[catty-words]

speaking of ace's unwavering understanding that he Belongs to horseshoe bay, i'm feeling sooooo normal about the fact that the episode that contains the first canon acknowledgement that nancy/ace is a something and not a nothing - is it making me feel attracted, or is it intensifying feelings of attraction that i already had but was repressing... - also contains this moment:

nancy writing a love poem to horseshoe bay on the fly is something that would make ace's heart go off like a gong

[padawanlost]

People often talk about Anakins failings as a Jedi, so how about somethings he was better than them at. Was there ever things (non-Jedi things) that people appreciated him for? Did his loyalty and emotion ever help someone, or make them feel better? Just, some ways in which Anakin being a bad Jedi, ended up making things better.

You asked me there’s any non-jedi trait Anakin excelled at I’d argue Anakin excelled at the most Jedi trait of all: compassion. Unlike the great Jedi masters of his time, who talked a big game about compassion, Anakin actually cared about the people he met and tried his best to connect and help them. But I’m not going to say much about this, I’ll just show you the receipts.

When Anakin and Obi-wan find a captive woman who has been physically abuse, this is what happens:

He was polite:

Anakin was looking relieved. “Water would be greatly appreciated, thank you. Food, too, but I’ll wait for Obi-Wan to come back before I eat.” She crossed to the small kitchen table, put down the precious holoprojector, then nodded at the commercial-sized conservator her keepers had so kindly given her. “It’s entirely up to you. The water’s in there. Help yourself to as much as you like.” He drank three full bottles, hardly taking a breath. Noticing her surprise, he shrugged. “Sorry. My manners aren’t usually that bad. It’s just—it’s been a long, hard day.” “I can tell,” she said, disposing of the emptied bottles down her makeshift kitchen’s waste chute. “You should sit down. If you don’t mind me saying so, you look tired.” He considered his filthy clothes. “Are you sure? I don’t want to dirty the furniture.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

He was supportive and unfailingly kind:

“Oh. That’s right.” There was still dried blood on her fingers, and a dull, throbbing pain in her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not normally this stupid. I just—” And then she felt her face crumple and heard herself sob. Her knees buckled and she began to sink toward the floor. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she choked. “Don’t mind me. I’m fine.”

He caught her before she tumbled completely. Lifted her without effort and carried her to the sofa. Boneless and unprotesting, she let him. Let her face turn to his roughly shirted, dirty chest and howled her rage and shame against him. Dimly, she felt his hand warm and comforting on her back and heard his soft voice saying, over and over, “It’s all right. It’s all right. You’re safe now. It’s all right.” The crazy thing was that she did feel safe. For the first time since those Separatist blaster bolts seared the air and sand of Niriktavi Bay, since she saw her friends and colleagues slaughtered, she felt safe. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

He helped her with her wounds:

“Don’t apologize,” [Anakin] said gently. “You’ve got a right to be upset. Now, where’s that medkit?”

“In the refresher.” She pointed. “Through there. Top shelf above the sink. But please, don’t bother. It’s nothing. I can—”

Standing, he frowned down at her. “It’s not nothing. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” Even if she’d wanted to, she didn’t think she could move. Hope had vanished, leaving despair in its wake. Leaving her empty of everything save pain. Her eyes felt scrubbed raw. “Right,” said Anakin, returning with the medkit. “Here we go. And I’ll say sorry in advance, because I’m probably going to hurt you.”

Again, that extraordinary sense of being small, a child, as he carefully wiped the blood and tears from her face, cleaned the bruised, throbbing cut on her forehead with antiseptic, and lightly pressed a steriseal over it. “You’re very good at this,” she murmured. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

He was gentle:

Taking them, she looked up at him and shook her head, even though it still ached. “It’s odd. You’re nothing like I expected.”

“Why?” he said, perching on the edge of the nearby chair. “What did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” she said, floundering. “I can’t say I’ve ever given the Jedi much thought. I mean, not as individuals. I never expected to meet one—let alone two. I don’t tend to go places where your skills are needed. But—well—you’re gentle.” That made him smile. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

She sat down again. “I understand. This is war. You have to look at the big picture. You can’t afford to see the little people.” Scurrying like rodents. Sacrificed for the greater good.

“That’s not true!” Anakin protested. “That’s what the big picture is. Lots and lots and lots of little people. You matter, Bant’ena. The friends you lost on Taratos Four, they matter. We’re fighting this war so no more like them will die.”

He was very sweet. Very young. Full of grand ideals and breathtaking, intuitive compassion. She looked at Master Kenobi. Now, there was a pragmatist, a man possessed of a scientist’s soul. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

When Anakin runs into a planet where the population has been enslaved:

As for the native Lanteebans, they were easy to pick out. Hunched and nervous, skittishly aware of their armed supervisors, they were the ones lasering and sweeping and riveting and hammering and sweating to upgrade the spaceport to their new masters’ specifications. They wore nothing but overalls and sandals. No protective eye goggles. No steel-capped boots. No sensor-harnesses to protect them from a fall. The indifference to their safety was breathtaking … and at the same time, unsurprising. Their fearful misery muddied the atmosphere. Beside him, Anakin muttered something. Not in Basic. His outrage was palpable, a red shimmer in the Force. Oh no. Not now.

“Anakin …”

“Look at them!” Anakin retorted, low-voiced. “They’ve been turned into slaves!”

“I know. It’s irrelevant. Focus on why we’re here.” [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

He was generous even with his dreams:

When the war was over he’d go back to Tatooine and see. When the war was over he’d buy any child he found enslaved to Watto and find them a home where they might live and love in safety. Belonging to no one but themselves. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth]

When Anakin runs into a group of poor kids playing in the street:

“Just like Mos Espa’s slave quarter,” Anakin said under his breath. “Everybody knows everybody else and nothing much stays secret.” Obi-Wan nudged him with an elbow. Not now. They’d accumulated a gaggle of children, who seemingly had nothing better to do than tag along in the newcomers’ wake, giggling and whispering and kicking a soggily inflated synthafibe ball.

[…]Grinning, without bothering to ask if he might, or if it were wise, or if they had the time to spare, so independent these days, Anakin jogged to join them. After a moment’s amazed hesitation the children welcomed him with squeals of delight, rough-and-tumbled him into their midst and made him one of their own.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He’s nice,” said the girl with the bracelet and the ragged hair, wandering over to stand beside him. “Don’t be cross with him, Teeb Yavid.”

[…]“But—” Gathering his thoughts, disciplining himself, he watched Anakin scoop up one small excited boy, too young to kick the ball, and zoom him overhead like a fighter chasing a vulture droid. The boy nearly sickened himself with laughing. “Greti, are you saying—”

[…]“So that was merely a cynical exercise in the manipulation of a local populace?”

“Oh, no,” said Anakin, grinning. “It was fun too.”

May the Force give me strength. “And that business with the boy? Because when I said no heavy lifting I—”

Anakin’s amusement vanished. “He wasn’t heavy. These younglings are skin and bone. I look at them and—” He clenched his jaw. [Karen Miller. Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Siege]

And this is just a few examples from ONE book series. The EU (TCW and the movies) are filled with moments of Anakin caring deeply for people he barely knows (TPM, anyone?) as the Jedi stand back and chastise him for caring too much. It’s so unfair that people forget that Anakin wasn’t always cruel and selfish. They forget that for a long time Anakin was of the few Jedi who actually acted on the compassion all Jedi were supposed to possess.

Anakin Skywalker didn’t become a heroic figure during the war only because he was a good fighter. He was a good person too. A person who cared about people as individuals. And the sad part is that people forget this compassion and caring attitude wasn’t learn from the Jedi, it was learned from Shmi Skywalker. A person that also acted on her words about being kind and generous:

“Helping others isn’t always easy, is it? If people paid us to be good, the galaxy would be overflowing with kindness. But most of the time there isn’t much reward, and sometimes it even costs us dearly to do good things. Yeah. What if it costs so much that it hurts? I think we should do it anyway. Make it a habit, like eating or breathing. Once you do, you’ll hardly even notice the cost.” Star Wars Episode I Adventures: The Ghostling Children by Dave Wolverton

Anakin and Shmi’s generosity, kindness and compassion was real and truly heroic and, imo, it’s the most important trait a Jedi should possess. Ahat’s why I think Anakin had everything he needed to be a great Jedi. He had everything else too: kindness, compassion, fighting skills, etc.  the only ‘trait’ he lacked was the acceptance and support of his superiors.

[woozymitts]

Thought I was going to lose Oliver last night.

Everything’s fine now, he’s behaving normally but. If anyone would take the time to read this and give me their input, especially if you’re familiar with dog behavior/head injuries/etc I’d really appreciate it.

So last night my dad and I were home alone while my mom ran to get pizza. One of the puppies needed to go out (can’t remember who) so I put my coat and shoes on and grabbed the flashlight and went out with them.

When they were done with their business I was trying to get them to follow me back to the patio (our yard is very weird, it’s super long) and Oliver was running in the dark. He couldn’t see and he ran full speed into this rectangular electrical box.

I can’t stop thinking about the sound he made. I never want to hear it again. It was like a squealing hog or a baying hound dog. When he hit the box I felt like I dissociated from my body for a moment, I felt like I was floating or like I was having a nightmare.

He started running around the yard screaming and howling at the top of his lungs. Once I snapped out of it and realized that I wasn’t dreaming I started screaming his name.

I don’t know why but Max started attacking him. Oliver was on the ground on his back and now he has a big scratch on his side, probably from Max biting him. I fell down onto my knees over him and pushed Max away. I noticed blood everywhere.

I knew the patio door was still open so I started screaming for my dad but apparently he thought it was one of the neighbor kids. I picked Oliver up and ran to the door, screaming for my dad the entire time.

I brought him inside and my dad took him. His nose was bleeding so my dad told me to get a wash cloth. I started telling him that he needed to call the vet and that Oliver hit his head really hard. He told me that it was just a nose bleed and to stop crying because I was just making it worse.

My mom came inside and I started begging her to call the vet because my dad wouldn’t but even after explaining how hard he hit his head and how he was screaming she just said he was scared because it hurt. They sat with Oliver on the couch and I cried on the floor.

Oliver’s nose had stopped bleeding but he was still shaking. My dad got up to eat after everything calmed down and my mom sat on the couch with Oliver while I was on the floor. Eventually my mom got up and I sat with Oliver and he curled up in my arms. After he had calmed down I got up to eat and Google dog head injuries to try and show my parents why they needed to call the vet.

After dinner I went into the garage where my mom was and begged and cried until she said she would call the vet. I don’t know why I had to beg and sob for her to make a phone call.

The vet I guess said that he was probably fine, he might be a bit tired (he was, he slept in late today) from the ordeal but to just keep an eye on him for a day or so and he might have a headache.

I know I could have called myself but I have autism and phone calls are extremely difficult for me, and I knew if I tried to explain what happened I would start sobbing again and the person on the other end wouldn’t be able to understand me.

Last year we lost four pets, we had to put three to sleep and my moms cat also passed away, and early this year we put our last dog down. I thought I was dealing with their deaths alright but I guess not. I’m gonna ask my mom to set up an appointment with my therapist soon.

I’m constantly terrified I’m going to lose Oliver. I keep having intrusive thoughts about him getting hurt or dying or his leash snapping and him running away and getting hit by a car. Now I’m worried that next time he and Max get into a fight over a toy Max is going to hurt him again. I don’t know why Max attacked him.

I’m sorry, this is so long but if you’ve read it this far thank you.

[wintersxsoul]

Gentle Touch

Summary: Bucky would do anything to protect you, even from himself. But what he never realized is that you didn’t want to be away from him.

Pairing/s: Bucky x Reader

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Angst, self-loathing, self harm, etc.

A/N: This is my entry for @wxntersoldiers 4k writing challenge, my prompt was a line from one of my favorite songs: I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck. Congratulations Layla, you deserve all the love in the world and I love you sooo much. This was a bit hard to write because it kinda hits close to home cause I’m a dumbass like Bucky as well. I hope you enjoy and a reblog would be sooo nice. Love you all.

Taglist and Masterlist are on my bio.

He remembers your soft laugh, how your giggles filled his hollow chest, melting away all the coldness and bitterness inside. Bucky found himself thinking about you more than he should, after all, he was the Winter Soldier, he couldn’t give you what you needed. He was the broken hollow shell of the man he used to be, the man you could have loved.

But he couldn’t be more wrong, because deep down, you loved him as well. Bucky carried his sleep deprived body through empty silent halls every night, the memories of a forgotten past resurfacing when he least expected them too. Sometimes he dreamt about his family, his home in Brooklyn. Memories of a blond scrawny kid laughing, the cushings of the couch on the floor, both of them laughing innocently at something he could not longer remember. Some nights the memories were of war, of his fellow comrades, the Howling Commandos. But most nights he woke up screaming in terror after remembering what HYDRA had done to him, what he had done to humanity for over 50 years. Bucky had awful nights, but he held onto the memories he had of you, all the moments you two shared. He sometimes woke up because he felt your hand holding his, caressing his palm with your fingers, drawing patterns that you knew relaxed him.

Some nights, you found yourself crawling to Bucky’s bed silently, the solitude of your room being too hard to bare. He pretended not to notice that you always drew patterns on his back with your fingertips to soothe you, the warmness of his skin putting you back to sleep. He hated the fact that he needed you to sleep soundly, he needed you close to keep his sanity, to recover his own self again.

The days were better, he was usually sarcastic and funny, always having new witty answers for Sam and Nat, he was himself around Steve and you, he felt like he belonged.

But then the memories flooded his mind, the blood, screams, fire and gunshots he could never shake off him. They were part of who he was and the reason he could never tell you how much he loved you.

Bucky was so in love with you it even hurt to look at you, but he thought that you could never love the Soviet assassin he still was. After spending plenty of sleepless nights, Bucky realized that he had to push you away, he had to for his own sanity. He couldn’t deal with the fact that he had fallen in love with you, the only feeling he couldn’t control, he could not keep at bay. He started slowly, almost unnoticeable to you. He stopped glancing at you from across the room, he stopped himself from daydreaming about your soothing hands on his scarred skin keeping his mind occupied with mission reports, he even started flinching when you brushed your fingers against his. The first time he did that, he saw the deep pain in your eyes, the fear and rejection clouding your watery eyes.

This emotional denial went on for weeks and once Bucky knew he could control himself, he started avoiding you physically. He, of course, knew you too well to know you wouldn’t notice something was up, so he just avoided the places he knew you’d be but still hung out with the rest of the team. Everything was just a sad casualty to you, but for him, it was a very detailed plan he couldn’t fail to follow. He couldn’t fail his mission. Months went by and without noticing, there was an abyss between Bucky and you. When you were at home, he was out on a mission and when he came back, you had to go. Fate was being cruel with you, there was no other logical explanation as why you missed your best friend so much even though you lived three doors apart.

You sighed heavily, pushing your tired and injured body towards your room. It was around 3 AM so the hallway was deadly silent, the only thing that could be heard were your heavy footsteps and your ragged breathing. That’s when you heard it, an anguished cry coming from his room, the deep pain he was feeling froze your heart, the coldness spreading all over your chest. Your legs moved instantly towards his room, all rational thinking thrown aside. You held the doorknob and tried to open it, but it was locked from inside. Something was wrong, why would Bucky lock his door? He was still screaming inside, and since you couldn’t open the door, you called out his name, not caring about the rest of residents at that moment. You cried banging at the door, begging for him to open it so you could help him, but the door stayed closed, the screaming fading into what you understood as sobs. You pressed your forehead against the cool surface, hot tears streaming down your face, the ache in your heart growing stronger every time he let out a loud sob. You pressed your cold hand against his door and whispered “please”, knowing it was just heard by yourself. Bucky stood up and approached the door silently, his heart heavy due to the deep sorrow the nightmare gave him. He pressed his forehead to the door, his flesh hand moving towards a spot in the door, not knowing yours was just there, separated by the wooden door. His nightmares had worsened since he started avoiding you, vivid dreams on how the Winter Soldier killed you, how he killed you. Bucky knew you were still in front of his door, waiting for him to open the door and let you in again, but he couldn’t. You sighed heavily, the pain still fresh on your aching heart, you dropped your hand to your side and took a step back, you had to stop doing this to yourself.

You couldn’t go to the next mission assigned because your body was pushed against its limits on the last one, so Fury told you to stand back and rest. Bucky didn’t know this, so he thought you were out on a mission and one morning, he entered the kitchen and found you there, sipping on your coffee looking like a mess. His heart wrenched at the sight of you, your arms and legs covered in bruises, a deep cut on your lip and your left cheek. You turned around when you felt someone looking at you, your eyes widening when you saw him. He could notice you were fighting back tears and he was sure that if he stayed a minute longer, he would break down right there in front of you.

“Hey, Buck I…” Your voice cracked, your emotions betraying you. You cursed yourself and gulped, trying to contain the pain. Bucky stared at you and shook his head, dismissing your words completely. He turned around and left the room, but before he crossed the door he could hear a soft “wait” coming from your trembling lips. He wiped his tears violently and went to the gym, he needed to let go of his anger towards himself. He couldn’t even ask you why you were so beaten up, who had done that to you, who he had to murder.

He picked up one punching bag after another, sand scattered all over the floor.

“Get your shit together, Barnes” He snarled under his breath, punching relentlessly. “You don’t deserve her.” Punch. Punch. Another punch bag broken, his flesh hand bleeding. He picked another one, placed it in its place, and started all over again.

“You fucking murderer, you really thought you could  have a future.” The tears were blurring his vision, anger and pain filling up his mind. That was the 7th punch bag he broke in the hour he’d been on the training room, knuckles raw and bleeding. You were everything he could think of, how he could’ve avoided you that pain in your last mission. He could’ve ended their misery lives without batting an eye just because they dared to touch you, to harm you with their filthy hands. But, what was the difference between them and him? He growled in anger and turned to leave, but his body stiffened when he saw you staring at him, fear in your eyes. You approached him and stood in front of him, but he stepped aside and marched towards the exit.

“James, I swear if you reach that door, it will be forever.” Your voice was full of anger towards him, surprising the both of you. He turned to look at you, and the look he saw in your face sent a chill down his spine. You looked terrifying. You were wearing your tactical gear but no weapons in sight, the boots giving you more height and presence. Bucky felt small under your gaze, uncertain of what was going on through your mind.

He opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off, tired and angry.

“Shut the fuck, I will do the talking now. You missed the opportunity to explain yourself.” He had never seen you like this, you looked at him in a different way and now he could see why everyone said you had an unbearable cruel gaze in missions. You approached him until you were just a step away from him.

“How dare you push me out like this? How dare you.” You growled, pressing your finger to his chest angrily.

“How dare you abandon me when you needed me the most?” He stared at you in shock, his expression falling with every word you let out.

“You think I didn’t hear you every fucking night? You think I didn’t suffer with you?” You pressed both of your hands to his chest, curling them into fists, the soft material of his shirt and the heaving of his chest soothing you, the anger slowly dissipating and turning into sorrow. Your grip loosened but you kept your palms pressed against him.

“Why, Bucky?” You looked at his ocean eyes filled with tears, threatening to fall, probably mirroring your own. He moved his hands slowly and grabbed your wrists softly.

“You don’t deserve this.” His voice trembled, it was full of regret, sorrow, fear. You frowned and nodded, not truly understanding what he meant, You went to move your hands to back away but he tightened his grip a bit to make you see he didn’t want you to move. “You don’t deserve to suffer with me, you don’t deserve the heavy burden I carry.”

“What?” Your eyes widened and you felt his grip loosen so you moved a hand to your own chest, clutching it tight, trying to make his words sink in even deeper. Before you could say or do anything else, he let go of your hands and stepped back.

“Can’t you see that I’d probably still adore you with your hands around my neck?” Realization hit you like a truck, because his words meant something more strong than love. After all he had suffered, all the physical and emotional pain he’d been through, he still trusted you not to hurt him, he still loved you that deeply. Because that statement, that single statement, meant he loved you as well.

“Buck…” He looked at you, his gaze full of love and adoration, and you knew that whatever you said now, would never make justice to what you felt. “If I could rip my heart out and give it to you as a proof of my love, I would.”

He approached you and cupped your face with his metal arm, the coldness contrasting with the warm gesture. You leaned into his touch and looked at him lovingly. He whispered “say it” softly and before you could finish saying the three words, his lips were on yours. With that kiss, you both tried to pour all your love and affection, all the agony and misery forgotten and forgiven. Bucky was worth of your heart and soul and you were worth of his.