#it's letting people actually write good Hawkeye and/or America Chavez books for once

[scarlet--wiccan]

I know that West Coast Avengers ended like 6 years ago and the Watts siblings have barely been in anything sense, but I keep seeing people on Twit listing them among Black mutants/X-Men characters and um. I'm sorry to rain on your parade but they are not and have never been X-Men characters and are officially listed as human mutates. No X-genes here.

[must-be-mythtaken]

So @starkrevolution and I are trying to get back into writing and to that end, the goal is 200 words a day, or 3 good lines of poetry. I’m pretty sure I missed some days but here is the nonsense I forced out of my brain in that time. What I’ve learned about myself when it comes to stories is that I like character and dialogue but I suck at action. 

We start with my response to the prompt “Kate and America Chavez being gal pals” This is actually what I think went the best for me this week, though I realized quickly that I need to read more of America’s comics before I can write her.

"So Kate, are you going to bring your...friend? To the wedding?" In the long history of pregnant pauses, it certainly wasn't the longest, but it still left room in which to hear the disappointment.

Kate held the phone away from her mouth, allowing an audible sigh to escape, before answering.

"No, she can't make it. We can have some real family bonding time." She let the sarcasm flow freely. No sense in hiding it.

"Sweetheart..."

"Kate."

"I know we've had our...disagreements but this is your sister's wedding and I don't want-"

"You don't want me ruining the photo-op, I get it. Perfect family, perfect businessman, perfect wedding. I'll see you at the rehearsal dinner, Derek."

She stabbed at the end call button and dropped her phone on the bed, flopping back next to it with another sigh.

Family.

"Okay, five letter word, clue is blithering and empty-headed."

"C-L-I-N-T," Kate answered without looking up from her homework.

"You wound me. Ah, idiot!"

"Well, at least you're coming to terms with it." She sighed, letting her book fall into her lap and her head fall onto the back of the couch. There was a stain on the ceiling that looked remarkably like Denmark. Alas, poor Yorick, we've water damage.

"Last one, six letter word, source of danger." Clint chewed on the end of his pencil.

"Family." Kate picked up her book again, trying to focus.

"Huh? No it starts with H."

"Hawkeye."

"Oh come on that's not even the right number of letters. You're useless!" He took a sip of coffee and grimaced. Cold and bad, what a combination.

Next we have a bit of nonsense that is literally just two people talking in a room because I don’t know where this story is going. Like actually no idea, I just love these characters and I want to write about them. If you haven’t read Vurt this probably makes no sense but WHO CARES. NOTHING MAKES SENSE.

A Squaring Of the Tides

"Scribble."

There are a surprising number of things that happen when you're not looking. Plants grow. The light in your refrigerator turns off. Stars spin around and live and die and, according to some, dictate what will happen to you next Thursday.

"Scribble."

Since he was young he'd always wondered about the fridge bit. Once, his father had come home and caught him opening and closing, opening and closing, trying to work it out, and beat him within an inch of his life for wasting energy.

"Scribble!" Beetle's insistent voice finally broke him out of his cycling thoughts.

"What?" Scribble turned away from the window, leaving the raindrops to chase each other down the glass in peace.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Beetle lounged in the chair, one leg hanging over the arm. Scribble couldn't decide if he looked like a king, elegant in his repose, or a total prat.

"You look like a prat." He spoke almost without thinking. "I mean-"

"Scribble, darling, you wound me." He shifted in the chair and someone managed to look even more indolent. "I have never looked bad a day in my life."

Scribble returned to watching the raindrops, though he could feel Beetle's smirk from across the room. After ten years, some things were to be expected.

"Scrib..."

"Go bother someone else, Bee. 'Sides, you don't have a penny and you know it."

Rain fell in a whisper, dampening the streets, pulling the sky down low over the city. A car alarm broke through the rumble of the city but cut off abruptly, a singer who came in too early on the chorus.

When he woke up it was still raining, but the light coming in through the window was the gray of daytime, not the orange glow of streetlights, so Scribble assumed he must have fallen asleep on the couch. Again.

"Sleeping beauty, awake at last!" Beetle practically flowed into the room, shirt pressed to the nines, leather gloves hanging from his coat pocket.

Scribble looked down at himself, wrinkled shirt, wrinkled pants, odd socks. It would take more than sleep to make a beauty out of this.

"Fuck off, Bee." He yawned hard enough to hear something in his neck pop, then shuffled toward the kitchen, pushing past Beetle leaning in the doorway. "We got any coffee?"

Lastly are a couple of bits and bobs that have barely coalesced into anything yet.

-Summer in the city. How many lines, how many songs and poems have been written with those words? Well here I am in the hot wet soup of it and let me tell you, there is nothing poetic about a broken AC unit and an apartment with only one working window.-

He paused, gathering his thoughts and taking a quick sip of coffee.

-I hope you're listening, Seattle. I have to believe you're out there, waiting out this heat along with me. Smoke should be clearing up, oh, eventually. Do you remember what stars look like? I think I saw one, just over...well, it's not important. Now, for anyone out there waiting for the heat to break, and I hope it's not too on the nose, Summer In The City, by Regina Spektor.-

With the microphone off, Noah let himself sigh, as the radio signal went out to...someone, he hoped.

Their first meeting was like a car accident. No, to be perfectly honest, their first meeting WAS a car accident.

A relationship is a space between two things Happiness is a moving target Pursuit is the key word

Anyway these are all SFDs (shitty first drafts) so feel free to critique but I’d prefer to just hear your favorite part. Also if you know how to make characters DO THINGS in stories please send help.