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Kate Bishop by Chrissie Zullo (Source)

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ATTRACTION MEME ;;

If your muse is attracted to my muse’s LOOKS, send a ➤ !! If your muse is attracted to my muse’s PERSONALITY, send a ★ !!  If your muse is attracted to mine ROMANTICALLY, send a ❥ !! If your muse is attracted to mine PLATONICALLY, send a ✿ !! If your muse is attracted to mine SEXUALLY, send a Ⓡ !! If your muse is has POTENTIAL to be attracted to mine in any of the above, send a ↳ , along with the symbol has potential !! If it’s UNREQUITED, send a ☢ along with the symbol of which is unrequited !!

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“Kate,” she shouts, pointing to herself and hoping to God there’s no one in here with super hearing. (Though if M’gann feels okay, it should be okay, right?) M’gann’s an interesting name - it must be an alien thing. “M’gann. Okay. Got it.”

She’s not the best at reading lips, but she manages to make out most of what she’s saying. She almost - for a second - thinks to ask her if she knows any sign language. Kate learned some for Clint in case his hearing aid was ever compromised, but she only knows a few rudimentary, combat-oriented signs. She’s okay at finger-spelling, but doing that for whole conversations takes pretty much forever and is kind of inefficient, anyway.

“Nah. I just came by myself from my parents’ house. I kind of needed to get away.” There’s a hint of a frown at the words, but she tries not to get down about it. After all, they’re dancing.

“M’gann, you can call me M’gann,” she shouted over the noise. It was great to see a familiar face, especially since her friends had all gone. M’gann was hardly enjoying the club scene. For all the people there she still felt almost entirely alone. Seeing Hawkeye again got her excited enough to forget the noise and the crowd.

“I was with friends, some of them are around,” M’gann yelled and made accompanying gestures that she hoped would get her point across. It was just so loud in the club, M’gann hoped that Kate could at least read her lips. 

“What about you? Did you bring any friends?”

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Kate awakens, grumpily, to a humming sound. Weird. Is the air conditioner broken? She hopes it’s not, because seriously - it is like a million degrees outside and honestly she turns greasy as hell in the heat. Plus, it can’t be great for Lucky to be in the heat, either.

She pushes the blanket off and her eye-mask up, rolling off of Clint’s couch. Lucky pads up to her - shit, she’s slept in and he’s probably hungry. Waddling over to the kitchen, she opens up the bag of dry food and fills his bowl before going to check out the sound. It’s coming from the window, but it’s certainly not the air conditioner, that’s for sure.

She gets to the window wearing an oversized tank top and shorts, her sleep mask still sitting on her forehead. It’s not the A/C, all right, it’s some kind of space ship. And - is that Miss Martian? It’s gotta be - she’s seen her looking other ways before, but this is new. She’s covered in some orange crap. (Yep, she’s definitely from space. This officially proves it.)

Opening up the window - and wincing at the blast of hot air that enters the apartment, she sticks her head out, tilting it to the side. “M’gann? What’re you doing here?” Her voice is a little raspy from sleep.

In the Light of Day | Event Starter

M’gann awoke with a start. She still lay on the floor where she’d collapsed the previous night. Squinting up at the pale light as it filtered in from the window of the bioship, M’gann began to feel the stinging sensation in her eyes again. M’gann wiped her hands across her face and found it was coated in a thick film that was crusty orange on the surface and sticky red underneath. Thankfully it wasn’t blood. It was the spray that had adhered to her skin like glue, making it painful for M’gann to see or shift.

The ship shuddered with empathy and the floor tilted into a gentle slope. The gate slowly opened and the bioship gave M’gann a mental nudge. Looking herself over, M’gann attempted to at least shift into a cleaner outfit, but the spray was apparently melded to her biosuit. She’d probably need a new one.

Reluctantly, M’gann managed to stand up. The light outside was bright and felt sharp against her sensitive eyes, but the bioship wouldn’t have let her out for no good reason. At the foot of the gangplank, M’gann found herself looking at someone. Her vision was too fuzzy and disorienting to see exactly who, but it the bioship had taken her to someone.��

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Clint: Fiiiiine

Clint: She texted me, she went into hiding

Clint: She was very hush-hush about it tho so I'm sort of trying to keep it that way

Kate: Fuck. Does she need help?

Kate: My lips are sealed.

Kate: I guess I'll head to the store and get a bag of Friskies or w/e

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“I don’t know. Criss Angel. The Blue Man Group. Who are those guys-” she snaps her fingers a few times, trying to remember a name. “Penn and Teller? And those white tiger guys, they were magicians too, yeah?” Boom. Off the top of her head, she could name four right away. “I’ll have to check that out.” Though she’s pretty sure she’s not gonna go out of her way to see a magic show any time soon. That isn’t really her scene - this is.

Lady K - it’s still a nickname, but it’s not as terrible. Still, there’s a scowl at him to go along with it.

She likes this guy. She still hasn’t quite figured out why yet.

And then he starts working it - his magic.. Clearly it’s different than what Billy or even Wanda could do - none of that chanting a mantra or the wordless stuff. He’s got magic spells, apparently, real ones - interesting. Her eyes follow the bottle as it floats, tilts and pours, and there’s a slight smile as she lifts up her own glass to finish it, placing it back down on the table. 

“Color me impressed. So what, you’re not gonna top me off too?”

“Of course not you s-” he managed to reign in that particular insult if only cause he’d never be able to explain otherwise. “I meant entertainment charts. Cripes, how many magicians do you think are running around being actually successful?” he asked, “Speaking of entertainment charts, when you look up New Yorks shows, you’ll find me in the top ten.” he smirked.

Oh bad idea. Zach smirked, he had a very bad habit of being unable to do something after being specifically warned off it, “Hmm… Whatever you say Lady-K,” he substituted. Unable to completely let go of it, he’d be slipping into the conversation from now on.

Another doubter? Ugh. He was almost tempted not to do it just to be difficult. Trouble was, when he did that the other person would automatically assume that it was because he couldn’t, rather than him just being pissy. So in the end he always did.

“Alright.” he said, bringing his hands together and clicking his fingers. He raised his glass and downed it, placing the empty one on the bar he gestured slightly, for showmanship purposes of course, “lliF ti pu.” he instructed. The bottle rose into the air and floated over, tilting to fill his glass before gently floating back down to the bar. Those watching gave a slight applause, the fan-girl being the loudest.

“Consider it proved.” he smirked, taking a sip of his refilled glass.

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Jeez, he’s even worse off than she’d thought. It’s a little striking to see the guy who was once so sure of himself claiming he’d leave himself on the ground if he fell. She feels him tighten his own grip and her muscles tense, keeping a stiff, tight arm for him to hang on to.

“Because it’s what I do. I don’t throw on this costume for nothing, y’know.” There’s a little laugh as she says it, because she knows other people wear costumes to pull the kind of shit that just happened to him, and she, for all he knew before this, could have just been another one of the Joker’s goons. Fat chance. Kate’s pretty sure she’d look like a wreck in clown makeup, anyway. “Magic, huh? Sounds like somebody I know. I think he’s a few blocks away, though.” She’s more relaxed as Hawkeye, now that she doesn’t have to pretend to be a dumbfounded civilian. Hawkeye knows Wiccan - it’s simple.

Seven people. That’s massive. She understands now - why he’s so done in. Even as a baseline human, she’s pretty sure she couldn’t even take on seven people by herself without assistance from Clint or her team. 

“I’m not going to leave you there - trust me, I know the ER can be a run-around. My team already knows. I’ll advocate for you until you get some help, yeah? C’mon, we’re not too far away now.” The hospital’s about three blocks from here, after all. It’s not one she’s particularly familiar with, but she thanks her lucky stars that NYC’s so big that there’s more than one place to go.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll fix it.” he muttered. It didn’t strike him to be worth going to the hospital, they wouldn’t be able to help much. People hardly ever managed to help each other. His magic was better for it. He just needed a patch job to tide him over.

“’Ow come you’re helping?” he asked, trust his birds to find a do-gooder hero who was more than happy to save his sorry ass. Still, didn’t mean he wasn’t about to look his gift-horse in the mouth. He wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t. “With magic.” he muttered, he would have added an emphatic ‘duh!!’ for her benefit, but he was just too tired to throw one out. Plus, underneath the bitching, he was feeling a little needy right now.

He tightened his own grip best as he could, which wasn’t very much, but still. “Please don’t.” he whispered, “Doubt I’d get back up at this point.” he said, blinking tiredly, gotta keep the eyes open.

“Dumbasses read’em.” he said quietly, where were they walking to again? His head was a little fuzzy, “Huh, asses.” he half-snorted, “Yea, seven of’em. Beat me up,” he said, was he repeating himself? “I don’t like hospitals.” he sniffed, “People leave you in’em.”

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Clint: 1. Can I use a lifeline for that?

Clint: 2. They're fine. So far????

Clint: ............ I HOPE

Clint: If not I guess I could ask Aimee to watch the cat?

Kate: No. No no no. You are not getting off that easy.

Kate: I'll watch her cat, NBD. Just spill the story.

Kate: 8)

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Clint: Yeah, some of mine too.

Clint: Don't let Nat's cat escape when you get to my place btw

Clint: I'm good tho, don't worry about it

Kate: Okay new questions

Kate: 1) Why is Natasha's cat at your place

Kate: and 2) are you sure Lucky isn't going nuts because there's a cat there?

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“What- no. I’m just...checking something out.”

In all honesty, she’s making sure it was actually him. Kate knows the Avengers - hell, even the Justice League, apparently - go out and do stuff out of costumes in their civilian identity, and she’s been doing this superhero thing for a few years now. It still always hits her for a loop when she sees it happen, though. 

Kate blinks a few times as he approaches her. She’s sitting in a gazebo in the park, swiping through pages on her iPad, a very large iced tea at her side. She comes here, sometimes - on days when she feels good, days she doesn’t talk to the therapist about - just to sit. She stays far away from the bad section of Central Park - the part she considers bad, anyway. It’s breezy - nice and relaxing, and she frankly doesn’t want to be cooped up all day today anyway.

She’s never actually met the Falcon. Not in person, anyway. She’s seen him around a few times, on the occasions she’s taken her limited access pass to Avengers Tower out to some good use to use the gyms (not like they let her go anywhere besides the training facilities - though there was that one awesome time with Natasha) - but she’s never actually stopped to talk to him. She’s pretty sure he and Clint are friends, though. (And he’s much taller in person, she notes.)

Still, she keeps it casual, giving him a grin.

“I didn’t think people actually ran in the afternoon. Don’t you get too hot? It’s, like, a million degrees out here.” When she does it, it’s usually a first thing in the morning thing, before the sun is high in the sky.

Of the many things Sam had been getting accustomed to in Manhattan, finding a new jogging route had been one of them. He had, quite undoubtedly, the best path back in DC - until he had the dire misfortune of getting run over by a hunk of a man. So now he had no choice but to deal with the Central Park. Great. He leaned down to tighten his laces before glancing at the place, trying to figure out a route that wouldn’t make him feel like he was back on tour. A part of him knew that he was responsible for this looking like a war zone, what with the dark scorched marks and burnt trees, but he no longer felt like abusing Tony Stark’s elaborate jungle gym. Hell, he just wanted to get out of that ugly tower. 

“Better not let Stark hear that,” he mumbled under his breath and eventually pulled himself up, resigning himself to go through with what he had. He kept his head down and his pace up, choosing to ignore anyone else that might be around. He just needed to clock his 5km as regularly as possible; it hadn’t really been possible what with everyone and their mothers deciding to terrorise the city. Must be the damn tower attracting all the villains. The more he thought about it the more possible the idea seemed. He had all but convinced himself of the “Stark Is Responsible For the World’s Misfortune” theory when he staggered to a slow halt, finding a familiar figure. What he really wanted to know was the proportion of humans to super humans in this borough, ever since everyone got shifted here. He shrugged away the thought before heading over, making sure his steps were well heard so that he didn’t get punched. 

“You planning to bring grass back to life with that stare?” he asked out loud, giving the person a look before taking a long swig of his water. 

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where have pigment markers BEEN my WHOLE LIFE

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Clint: hey girly-girl

Clint: heard a lot of false rumors were going around lately

Clint: you alright?

Clint: if you are i'm totally down to help you with that college thing

Clint: if you want

Kate: I'm fine. Some of my friends have had to deal with the bs though.

Kate: I'm still thinking about it. :\

Kate: Are you okay?

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Kate Bishop | Hawkeye

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Started these ages ago and finally finished them :)

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Fortunately, Kate hasn’t had to deal with any creepers. (This time.) She’s happy to spend an hour or so on the dance floor before she even hits the bar - she hasn’t even looked down once to check her phone. The music is loud and they haven’t played any clunkers yet, so Kate considers it a good night so far. It’s a good distraction.

She’s so in the zone that when she’s tapped on the shoulder, Kate actually jumps - and then curses herself, because she’s patient, she’s an archer, she’s not supposed to get caught off guard. (She has to work more.) She turns around, feet still moving to the beat, and pushes some hair out of her face.

It’s Miss Martian - there’s a big grin. This is so different from their first meeting - or any meeting they’ve had since then, really. They’re out of costume and on good terms, and in a loud club? People can be whoever they want to be. (Which, of course, can be a good or a bad thing.) “Oh my god.” There’s a big grin as she greets the other girl. “Mi- sorry. I don’t know what I should call you here.” There’s a little laugh. She has to shout over the music, but hopefully she can hear her. “Are you here with people, or by yourself?”

After a quick hug Artemis waved goodbye and disappeared into the crowded dance floor, leaving M’gann alone with her water. What had started as a girls’ night out had effectively become a girl’s night out. The rest had all left earlier. As usual, Raquel missed her baby and gone home early. Cassie had gotten a case call from Wonder Woman around nine. Rose and Lorena had gone off to party in the back room over an hour ago. M’gann had wanted to wait for them, but the only reason M’gann knew they were even still in the club was their very active snapchat accounts.

She took a long drink of her water. Even by the wall the club was uncomfortably hot. M’gann was telling herself that she’d wait five more minutes for her friends in the back, when an attractive young drunkard sidled up to her. The music was so loud that he had to shout and motion when he offered to buy her a drink. At first M’gann politely declined, but when the man kept asked she shouted over the noise that she’d seen her friend on the dance floor and scampered off.

The dance floor was even hotter, though, and M’gann felt herself becoming slightly disoriented by the light and noise and the smell of sweaty dancers. She tried to dance like everyone else, but she felt out of place. Just as M’gann was about to give up and walk right out the door, she spotted a familiar face. Hawkeye was dancing only a few people away, arms high and hips swaying. M’gann pushed through the crowd and tapped Hawkeye on the shoulder, “Hi!” 

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“Seriously? I dunno. They work alright for my purposes.” She shrugs a little, putting a hand to her chin. Kate doesn’t claim to be a photographer or any kind of artist, really - she mostly takes selfies and pictures of her food. She’s never taken a photo in-costume that went up on the web - it’s too compromising.

“Well, hey, it’s pretty cool. You’re good with it, too.” If he’d gotten it a few years ago - estimating by how he looks - he’d probably been working with it since he was a kid. Kate grew up in the age and advent of digital cameras, where you could frame a photo well, zoom, fix anything you wanted before you even took the shot. It is an instant camera - but it’s still analog. It means he’s patient. She never had that talent at his age - not until the incident - but training as an archer had given her that. She knows she misses shots she doesn’t take, but she’s also had to learn to wait until the precise moment to take a shot. That’s key.

“Oh - what - my case? No. I’m actually taking lessons across town from this older lady - my first one.” It’s a quick cover story, one she made up on the fly, but it’s believable. It’s not like Kate uses tools she can keep in a utility belt, or even a backpack - but she’s learned her lesson to not carry her bow with her when she goes out. And this is much easier to lug around than the case where she keeps her real instrument. “I usually play the cello.”

“If you use a filter on that, I might feel insulted. Instagram’s filters are just honestly garbage mostly.” Granted Tim didn’t even have his own Instagram. He didn’t like social media, it had too much of the risk of leading something back to him and that was an absolute no go. 

Looking back at his camera, Tim offered a small nod before hanging it around his neck by the scrap. “It was given to me as a gift a few years back, so even I can’t tell you where this came from.” He admitted. It was his fourteenth – no, thirteenth – birthday present, one of the first things he got after moving into the Wayne Manor. In all honesty he had come across in when exploring the mansion and when Bruce had caught him red handed, he explained that it was an old relic of the house instead of reprimanding him for being nosy. It was those memories that made it special for Tim, despite the many questioning looks he probably received from people how noticed it.

“Well if he did, I surrender.” Tim rolled his eyes playfully before pocketing the picture with the other two he had taken earlier that day. Leaning back on the bench Tim then cast the newcomer – Kate as she introduced herself – before dropping his gaze to her violin case. “You played a concert somewhere today or something?” Tim asked innocently, his curiosity triggered. 

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“Then let’s do it.” Kate and Wanda, in that respect, come from two completely different worlds. As an heiress, she was spoiled as a child - and she’s still known for toting a family credit card, despite how much she maligns her father. It’s partially a force of habit - and partially because she has no idea how she’d survive, cash-wise, otherwise. Not one of her best points.

Kate digs in her bag, pulling out a thin iPad with a purple jelly case. She’d always liked the color beforehand, but now it’s a running theme for her - part of her identity. She wouldn’t give that up for the world.

Listening to Wanda’s story, there’s a little smile. “Sounds like somebody I know. He’s a speedster?” She thinks of Tommy, with his white hair, all cockiness with a penchant for danger. She likes him - she’d go out with him again, if she felt like being risky. But she hasn’t seen much of Speed recently. “I’m glad you had someone who had your back when you guys were on the run. That can’t have been easy.” There’s a little frown - she knows Wanda and her brother probably faced a lot of stress in their past. Then again, hasn’t everyone? It’s why they do what they do in the first place, she thinks.

“Do you have an Instagram? I don’t think I’ve seen it.” She’s not as big on social media as, say, the Wasp might be, but she has her own small following. It’s all mundane stuff - city shots, food, and selfies with all those filters on them, nothing extraordinary and nothing in the purple leather and scarf. She can’t risk her identity or that of the team’s. But she likes it alright. Kate’s no artist, but it’s nice to be able to document your life like that. “It’s not hard, really. You just have to have a steady arm.”

Now that was a site she had heard about, but had not ever used. She liked fashion, in her own way, but it wasn’t something she thought about that often. Wanda was used to having little money, and it was still strange adjusting to the fact that she could afford clothes that were not second hand and could start to build up her look. “Sounds simple, which is just what I like. I think even I can click and drag.” 

She grinned over at Kate, then gave a nod, “Oh, you would know if you met him. Or perhaps he’s sped past you at some point. He comes and goes pretty quickly, so I suppose there’s a chance he’s seen you around.” When it came to trying to explain what Pietro was like… Wanda gave a warm smile. “He is rather arrogant, and chatty. He speaks a mile a minute. Often just jokes or smart comments. But he is smart. And underneath the arrogance he knows what he’s doing. I’m sure you would get along.” Well, Wanda hoped Pietro would get along with everyone- but that often wasn’t the case. “He looked after me when we were on the run, he was always smart at keeping us healthy and eating properly.” And that meant the world to her.

Wanda really needed to make more time to hang out with him, but the both of them had been so busy lately. She talked to him whenever she had a spare moment, however. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say he was the most important person in her life - her one constant and stable person. 

She paused, then laughed brightly. “I have seen them. And I quite like them. They’re good shots - I’m not sure you have a bad side,” she replied, giving a grin. “I think it looks good. I take quite a few pictures these days, but usually of places or other people. I’ve not really taken many selfies. Maybe I ought to try. I’ll have to look over more of yours to get hints and tips.”