#*sing songs*

[malka-lisitsa]

Don't you rp Elena lmfao why do you write her if you hate her???

Why indeed.

I only like her when I write her. I can not stand her 86% of the show. There are some parts of her I really like. There are a lot of parts of her I really don't, but I try to keep them all in character. So I write the parts of her I hate too, because even though I hate them they're part of what makes Elena, Elena. But yea 86% of the show I'm rooting for her to die.

[solsticelosthermind-ao3]

unedited winterhawk blurb part whatever

(the last few pages I've written are a mess, and I keep laughing. So, I went back up and re-read something I liked better. Here y'go, winterhawk nonsense with zero context. Whatever, at least I'm making progress. I can figure out how to work out the kinks once it's all written, yeah? yeah. So. Stuff. and Thaaangs.) By the time James finally found him, he was coated in dust and bleeding in several places. Barton immediately started babbling defensively, hand pressed hard to his leg to staunch the blood. “Listen, okay, it was the best shot, I had to take it. The whole falling out a window and getting shot thing was not my idea, and I want to file a complaint. Cap and Falcon needed-“ James cut him off with a hand over his mouth. Barton spluttered against his palm for a breath before giving up and pouting. “You about done? I ain’t a priest, fella. You save all that shit for Steve and the last rites he’s gunna need someone to give you before he murders you for that stunt you just pulled. I’d help, but I’m going to use your lecture to try and escape the part where Steve remembers me’n you shouldn’t have even been here in the first damn place. And if that don’t work, I am absolutely blaming you.” Barton gaped at him. After a moment, James closed his jaw with a finger and waited. “I- you- what? What? I just saved Falcon’s bacon! Does that rhyme? I totally rhymed. But the point! I just saved flyboy’s ass and you’re—“ “Giving you a rash of shit because you nearly killed your damn self in the process.” Hawkeye made an indignant noise, which was ignored in favor of James trying to visually assess the damages. “Hey! Eyes are up here, jerk. I am a lady and you will respect me.” James’ brows rose. “You got it, doll.” In one smooth motion, James scooped him up in his arms, bridal style, and began picking his way through the debris. Barton gave an outraged squawk. “The hell are you doing, Barnes-“ “Respecting you. Right to medical. This is no place for a dame. You might turn an ankle. Or get shot. Again.” Barton gaped at him again, a slight flush staining his cheeks before he dissolved into giggles. “Oh, oh, fuck, ow, okay, ow, fucking ow, don’t make me laugh, ugh, ribs. Why.” When they finally reached medical James tried to set Barton down and move away, but his wrist was caught firm in Barton’s grip. He shot him a confused look, but Barton only held on tighter. “If I have to get checked out, even though I am fine –“ “You got shot. And you fell. Out a window.” “Right, like I said, I’m fine. Then you have to get looked at too. You need to be okay, too.”