little echo

stars-inthe-sky  asked:

Buckynat week prompt: "We've met before, you know." "Yeah, you made a great impression on my chin."

“We’ve met before, you know.”

“Yeah, you made a great impression on my chin,” Bucky gestures vaguely, aimlessly towards his face, managing a small smile even though the pounding of his heart.

Natasha’s eyebrows rise subtly and her lips curl just a little, an echo of a wry little grin that has been ghosting around his memory during too many sleepless nights in an apartment in Romania. “Was it really your chin hurting afterwards?”

“Well. No.” An aborted half-shrug, his left shoulder still feeling too light, the absence of weight constantly putting him off-balance, still. He can feel his shoulders try to curl inward and forces himself to remain still in a weak attempt to not give everything away.. “Pretty sure you hit me in the head several times and kicked me in the groin.”

His memory is still hazy of those moments, like so many of them.

Bucky chances another look up into her face, into her eyes, the question that has been a constant companion for months now repeating itself in his mind. Does she remember?

‘We’ve met before, you know.’

He gets to watch that little thing of a smile widen into something more prominent.

God, she’s different now. Not so painfully young anymore, grown up, and beautifully so, her hair the same shade but in soft waves opposed to the wilder curls, her eyes older, calmer, surer of herself and of everything around her. Happier too. She grew up into everything he hoped for her.

Bucky’s not sure if even if she did remember, he’d even fit in anywhere in her life anymore. She has so much now - teammates, friends, people she obviously trusts. Hell, for all Bucky knows she could even be married now.

His gaze slides away from her, a tightness rising in his chest that’s hard to swallow down. He’s being ridiculous. She’s probably only here because -

Why is she here?

“I didn’t mean that though,” Bucky hears Natasha speak up again, still finding himself unable to look into her face again. Just like back then, at the very beginning, when she was so vibrant and bright in the twilight of his own existence that it almost hurt to look at her. “I didn’t mean the bridge in D.C. Didn’t mean Odessa either.

She’s shifting, and Bucky’s heart rate ticks up another notch when he realizes that she’s sitting down on the low coffee table right in front of him, and at the same time what her words mean.

Not Berlin. Not D.C. Not Odessa.

His head jerks up to look at her again after all, and it’s startling to have her closer suddenly, close enough that it would make him pull away from everyone else except for Steve. Natasha looks up at him with her fingers entwined underneath her chin, looking so calm and collected, but there’s something in her eyes he can’t quite interpret.

“Do you remember that?”

There’s a horrible, terrifying feeling of vulnerability fighting the hope that wants to rise in his chest, the ridiculousness that comes with the realization that she does remember. She does. They made him watch as they put her in the chair and wiped away everything they had, and somehow, at some point, some things must have broken through again, must have come back to her. There’s no other explanation.

And Bucky tells himself, his thoughts racing, that this has to be enough, he can’t expect - can’t hope - there’s a ravine of so many years to bridge where she kept living, lived her life without him anywhere near it, probably for the longest time without even remembering, and -


Her voice drags him back from that place he fell into for a few moments without even realizing and Bucky swallows and presses his lips together. But there’s so much warmth on her face, so much softness, so… so much.

And that’s what makes him take that jump, to push through that uncertainty and nervousness and fear and finally meet her eyes again.

“Yes. All of it.”

It takes a moment, but when a smile breaks over her face, it’s the first moment since waking up from cryo where Bucky thinks that maybe, somehow, things could actually be okay.

Echo Rokhor(row-core)-Highwind, Half-orc, Paladin of the god of Knowledge. 

A seeker of truth, and honesty. She’s kind, and helps her friends, but has a hard time understanding that the opinions of others can hold equal weight to her own. She is fiercely protective of things she loves and refuses to let anyone go anywhere without a buddy to watch their back. Echo keeps little to no secrets, and is bad at keeping secrets of others as well.

She stands tall at 6ft 8in and has the muscle to match her towering stature. With a strong head and strong muscles, she’s a good fighter, though lacks in way of strategy. Echo is more likely to take a beating while trying to defeat an enemy as fast as possible before they can retaliate. Her cool green skin contrasts largely with the pink bandanna around her neck, the only item remaining of her departed wife, Melody Rokhor-Highwind

Keep reading


Whoniverse: Class - In Quill, we call this the First Fear. This is the one you always go back to and the one you can’t face, and everyone has it.  Everyone.  Even Quill.  A soldier without fear is useless, inefficient. They win battles, but they lose wars.

secret-rue  asked:

So I love the idea that Yuri's viral video is silent. So much so that I went back and rewatched the episode (again). I just want to point out that you can hear the audio of the video as Victor watches it. We can faintly hear the sounds of skating but no music. The video really is silent.

Originally posted by sailorcinnamonroll

This pleases me.

(for anyone who’s wondering, this ask is in response to this meta i posted the other day)

The subtle details in this anime make me so happy. There is such care paid across the episodes. Little hints that echo back to something that preceded it.

I highly recommend a thoughtful rewatch to anyone who hasn’t done so yet.

I’m just amazed that here we are, a month into the ClownButt StickyHands debacle of a presidency, and people are still trying to talk shit about how Hillary was some horrific she-devil that was going to start WW3 and was corrupt to her brittle dusty bones. 


Have none of these people read a single headline in the last month? 

Is there no level of self awareness or understanding of how their smear campaign fear mongering has given us exactly what they warned us against- a horribly corrupt, pay-for-play oligarch who is kicking anthills all over the world and threatening war during hormonal temper tantrums? 

Like, way to go, fishsticks. Your complete inability to think outside of your bizarre little echo chambers has fucked us all and you can’t even acknowledge it. 

“But really…” Cat gasped, eyes closing as her head hit the pillow, Kara’s warm breath sending goosebumps down her neck. “How much sex is…too much sex?”

“Excuse me?” Kara paused.

“I mean, at some point the Earth has to have enough trees and gardenia bushes and cascading succulents…”

“Are you…complaining about the amount of sex we’re having?”

“No,” she shook her head, covering her mouth as she hiccuped, feeling the effects of the whiskey she’d treated herself to after dinner. “I’m just saying…shouldn’t we be concerned…”

“So…you don’t want me to…”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Because…I know we just finished eating,” Kara began her descent again, lips pressed against Cat’s collarbone, nibbling, watching the way it made her back arch off the bed. “…and I know…we’ve already done it at least…three…”


“Four…times today. But all I can think about…is making you come again…and again…until I can’t taste anything else but you…on my lips…and you’re shaking in my arms…”

“I don’t shake…”

“Like hell you don’t…” Kara giggled, teeth brushing against her rib cage before replacing them with her tongue.

“Fine,” Cat exhaled. “Then show me…”


this one’s sorta based on my personal experience playing pyro. sometimes you get called useless, other times you get thanked by the engineer for helping them defend the last point.