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12/30/2021 09:37 PM
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Sunflowers and Sadness
Clint sat on the ground underneath the oak tree.....It was where his parents were buried. His fathers grave held but a simple marker to let someone know not to bury there. His death had been a blessing to many, Clint especially. He was the reason Clint was deaf after all. The man had made their lives a living hell, with the shouting and the drinking and the beatings. He didn't deserve to be remembered.
His mother however....well Clint had made sure she had a beautiful headstone, kept up with the area and always brought her the first sunflowers that bloomed on his farm. She had always like sunflowers the best. She had been a beautiful woman, his mother. She had golden hair and the bluest eyes. She looked like an angel to Clint. Even covered in bruises. She had done her best for them, singing to them when his dad was raging and making cookies with them he had gone to the bar to drink himself stupid.
Clint remembers the wreck that had changed the course of his future. How his dad had swerved into oncoming traffic. He never asked Barney what he remembered, but he remembers that just before they had escaped the car, the look on his mothers face in death. It was so peaceful, like she finally was free. Clint missed her a lot, but he could never have denied her the freedom that death had brought her. Not when his father had been the piece of sh*t that he was.
He finally finished cleaning up her graveside and sat back on his heels as he made her a wreath of sunflowers. He lay it gently on her grave and blew a small kiss to her. "Repose toi maman, que les anges te conduisent." With that, he finally stood up and after a brief pause, he walked away. This land held too many ghosts, sometimes Clint could see them carrying on. Thankfully he never saw his father, but he wished that just once he could see his mother just one last time....tell her how much he loved her. But angels didn't have reason to visit here. And he knew his mother was an angel that once walked among them. Patron Saint of Sunflowers. Nothing on this cruel cold earth could ever touch her again, and Clint supposed he could live with that.
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11/30/2021 02:36 PM
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Dreams Made Real
Clint was dreaming, he had to be dreaming. But there he sat in a place he should not be at all. And yet he couldnt shake the feeling that he had been there for a while. Years even. His body felt tired in a way that he couldnt describe. He was cold, hungry, and yet he knew that he couldnt give up. The bars behind his back felt cold and unrelenting against the strain that everyone in there with him just couldnt break. And they had tried many times before. But there they were, stuck....trapped. And everyone they hauled off never returned. The more he stared off into the distance the more at home in his body he felt. This was his reality, as bleak as it was, and he was probably going to die here in this place so far from home. He hadnt told his folks where he was going, just took off and signed up. He was placed in the 107th Infantry Regiment, and had fought throught many battles. He had watched so many of these men fall into the group, bright eyed and scared. So many had this ridiculous notion of honor and glory....he had begun to turn a blind eye to the replacements. He was tired of watching them die, watching them cry for their mothers at the end. Tired of it all.
Now here he sat, captured and likely left for dead by the army. Trying to ignore the silent tears of the men around him. He knew the odds of them getting out were slim. He had lied to the ones around them, telling them help was coming. But he knew the score pretty well. Help just wasnt coming. He leaned against the bars and tried to count just how long they had been there in this hell, but he couldnt. The days and nights felt the same here and time had truly lost all meaning as they sat there. He wondered if his folks would ever know what happened to him....if missing in action would ever turn to just killed in action. He sighed and closed his eyes. Might as well sleep while he could. They had taken Barnes back a while ago and the only reason they knew he was still alive were the screams. He wondered if he would be next, they seemed to favor the Non Comms here. He didnt know Barnes all that well, but he was a decent sort of folk. Smart, could shoot like no ones business. Yes, Frank wasn't surprised that he had came up the ranks like he did.
Suddenly there was noise...a lot of it. Frank opened his eyes and a look of shock fell over his place. Was that.....Captain America? He had seen the movies and adds of him circling about before. He was meant to give the troops hope and keep their spirits up....Frank had always kind of rolled his eyes at the movies. If only the war had been so glamorous. But he had apprectiated the mans effort at least. Kept most of the new guys from sh*tting their pants at the sight of war at least. But there he stood now, and Frank knew he wasnt dreaming, he was still too cold and hungry for that. Their cages were being opened and Frank was the first to get out of his. Standing had never felt so good. But now wasnt the time to stand around. He signaled for his men to follow him as he took the direction as the others were going. He wanted to stay and help the Captain, but he had too many green boys under his command. They needed direction and he would be damned if he watched them die today after all they had just survived.
Frank, along with a few others walked about getting the wounded loaded on stolen trucks. He made sure to get his boys settled and ready to move. He moved with renewed purpose, they had a fighting chance now and Frank was all about a fighting chance. Soon the Captain joined them on the outskirts of the place they had been held, the whole place aflame. They all seemed to take direction from him automatically, moving out as a group, moving fast but slow enough for their walking wounded. Frank didnt care where they were going, just so long as it wasnt there anymore.
They walked long into the night and early morning. It was a brutal march for some, others moved like zombies through the cold and the fog of the morning as it settled upon them. Frank kept to the rear so as to make sure no one was left behind. He didnt want to take any chances at this point. Soon they were treading into the camps and he heard the cheer go up, but he simply kept going. He was glad they made it, but there was more work to be done. People to report to. Frank always kept to the chain of command and so he reported in to his superiors and gave a roster he had been building since they had left that place. He was happy to say that Barnes had made it out. Who knew the guy was best friends with the Captain? He handed in all the dogtags he had collected of the dead as well....those boys deserved that much at least.
The thing about war is that it goes on. They barely had time to recoup before they were shipping out again. God Frank was so tired, his sleep no longer brought him peace, just the screams of those who never made it out of that nightmarish place. Frank promised himself that if he made it out of here, he would buy a farm and live out his life in peace. He never wanted to another blood stained battlefield in his life. But until then here he was in another city as they tried to overtake it in the advancement. He was screaming orders over the sounds of gunfire, "Clear out, clear out, theyve got us zeroed!!!" It was then when it hit him, literally. He went flying through the air, hitting a wall from the explosion. He had been hit, and lay bleeding in the streets. He tried to access the damage but he couldnt hear anything but a ringing in his ears and choked on the brick and mortar that fell around him. One of his unit came running up and grabbed him and then he knew only pain as they moved him. His leg was on fire, he could feel the blood now pouring down. Suddenly he was on the ground again as medics rushed towards him and it was then he looked down. His leg was gone at the knee. He had lost his leg and he suddenly started laughing as they worked on him. Well he wasnt going to be doing the jitterbug anymore. They stabbed him with morphine and thats when it happened.
Clint shot up in a pure sweat. His lungs were burning from the scream that admitted from his lips as he shot up. He automatically reached down for his leg and let out a sob to find it still there. He stumbled out of bed and headed straight for the bathroom to throw up. Leaning against his tub he made himself calm down. It was just a dream, it wasnt real....and yet Clint suddenly recalled the tombstones at the old family farm. The farm he had saved for and bought back as an adult and had been working for Shield for a couple of years. Frank Barton was what one of the headstones read, his POW status listed as well as his receiving the Silver Star medal. Clint felt a chill run down his spine.....how could he have dreamed that? Was it real and if it was, how did he know any of it at all?
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10/26/2021 01:22 PM
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Legacy
Clint remembered what it was like, to learn to use his bow. Trickshot had started teaching him at first as a joke. An idle way to pass the time as they traveled the country, until Clint had shown promise in it. Then Carson had wanted him to learn seriously, to make an act out of him. Trickshot had taken Clint on with both hands, Clint had practiced till his fingers bled. For every shot he missed, Trickshot had cracked the whip, literally. Clint would go to bed at night with a bleeding back until the day he no longer missed. He could make any shot, see the angles and the odds.
Its perhaps for this reason that he took any shot that he counted as a miss as a massive failure of his character. That it made him weak. Just another guy with a bow. He had failed today, a shot meant for Steve had almost made its mark. Clint had fired once and missed, just as rapidly he had fired another and stopped it, but he couldnt get it out of his head. He didnt think anyone had noticed, but he did. Thats why he was in the gym now running on the tredmill when he should have been in medical with the rest of the team. Why he had turned off his comms. He couldnt hit himself with a whip and he didnt want to. But the need to somehow punish his body was so deeply ingrained in him that he just kept running. Even when his lungs were past burning. Even as his legs felt like jello.
He made a misstep and went flying backwards into the wall. Trickshots laughter ringing in his ears as he lay there. He slowly got to his feet and took a deep breath, sweat pouring off his face. He stumbled his way through Shield, heading for the range. His night wasnt over yet. He wanted to crawl into bed with a bottle for company but he wouldnt. No he would spend his time making sure that it never happened again. He would make that shot over and over until he got it perfect.....until he was perfect again.
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02/16/2020 07:20 PM
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The Death Of Hawkeye
Thomas Wolfe was right...you can't go home again. It's not that you don't want to. That you don't want to just step back into your old life and pick up where you left off, its just that too much has happened and you can't. Clint had tried. Tried to lay down the mantle of Ronin and be Hawkeye again. Be an Avenger. But it was a role that he no longer fit in. It no longer was a part of him. He had discovered after the snap that nothing defines you, nothing. Because that excludes the possibility of change. He was defined by nothing and he believed in nothing. But he had ideas. Ideas were better than beliefs. Beliefs were dangerous things. People died for them, people killed for them. But you could always change an idea, just as you could always change yourself. And after the snap that is exactly what Clint had done. Changed. He had fallen from his role of an Avenger like an angel from grace. Lost, alone, not knowing what to do, where to turn. Until one day it was as if lightening had struck his heart and he had become Ronin, laying down his bow and taking up his sword instead. He felt purpose again, felt alive. And then Natasha had come for him and the holy sh*t storm that had followed. All of them had gone through hell and back again but finally the dust had settled. They had their normal back once more. Clint had tried. Really tried to be Hawkeye again. But everything about it felt wrong. He felt wrong in his own skin. He couldn't handle it. So he had walked away. They had all tried to get him to stay, tried to talk him out of leaving but he wouldn't be swayed. He loved them all and always would but he didn't belong there anymore. He wasn't Hawkeye. He was Ronin.
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01/20/2020 08:41 PM
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Brothers
Clint had a place of his own. It wasn't bad at all, a little messy but that was just how Clint was. And most nights he did stay there. He had never liked being a bother to people, as much as he acted off the wall, he never really wanted to inconvenience those around him.
But some nights there was simply just too much noise in his head and he couldn't stand to be alone. He was almost afraid of what he would do if he sat another minute by himself. So he headed over to Bucky and Steve's house. Because if anyone could keep him from doing something stupid, it was the ones he called his brothers.
Most times he would go over and be his usual goofball self. A fake it till you make it if you would. They both would just laugh and let him cut up and he would leave the next day feeling settled in his skin again. But then there were nights like this one where all he could do was sit on the couch and hug a pillow, staring off into space. He would get locked in his head, remembering everything he had done after the snap and the shame would wash over him.
Bucky and Steve would never push him to talk, they would simply sit with him, put the tv on and get him to eat. And when he could finally break through the ocean of regret, they'd help him up to his room there and let him sleep the rest of it off.
The next day Clint would feel better and would be back up to his antics. They never spoke of the night before but they didn't have to. They were always there for him when he needed them and well Clint would reign down hell for his brothers. They were a family, ohana. Clint knew he never had to worry when his brothers were there. They had his back when no one else did. Best family Clint could ever hope for.
“Who needs superheroes when you have a brother.”
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09/11/2019 04:05 PM
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Trigger words
Clint didn't like to think of the time when Loki had him under his control. Mostly he remembers the pain of it all, being broken and unmade. His broken pieces shaped into something not himself. It still woke him up at night. Kept him up for days on end until he was so exhausted that he could no long keep his eyes open.
He knew now, that it hadn't been Loki...that he had been controlled himself. It had taken a long time but he had come to terms with it and he no longer panicked when he saw the god. He didn't break out in sweat and want to puke. Clint had come a long way with it all. And if he was still kept up by the occasional nightmare, eh well no one had to know. Tonight he was up late, sitting in the attic because it was the highest point in the house and he could watch everything around him. Something had startled him today. He had been in town and someone had shouted out, "Try to remember!!".... They were talking about something in the grocery store or whatever but it made him stop dead in his tracks. He felt himself break out in a cold sweat and he had hopped back in his truck and headed home, errands completely forgotten. It had been six months since he had left everything behind. He still called and kept in touch with everyone but he needed the time away. He wasn't helping anyone by being this broken around them no matter what they said. They deserved to live their lives in happiness. Try to remember..... Clint sucked in air and fell from his seat to the floor. He remembered now... The first moments of being bent to Loki's control had been excruciating, he had fought all the way down, but eventually he had been defeated. After that felt like eons of pain. Watching himself from inside as he killed so many people. He couldn't stop the screams ripped from his throat. If there was a hell, this surely was it. And then suddenly, from one breath to the next it was gone..a flash of green and he wasn't in pain. He felt arms around him and he turned to find Loki holding him up. He began to struggle, but his hold tightened. "Shhh Little Hawk, Im not going to hurt you." "Says the man who is in my head right now making me do things against my will!" Clint spat out but he had stopped moving. He was too tired to fight anymore. "As much as I hate to admit it and believe me I do loathe it, I'm under control too. God of Mischief I may be but I don't actually want to rule Midgard. You humans may have it, you've wrecked it beyond redemption anyways."
Loki eased the hold but didn't let go. "So if you're under control, how are you doing this?" Clint was confused. "I am a god Little Hawk, I am capable of many things. This was just a brief despite for you so your mind didn't break. They will need you to defeat me, well controlled me. I'd explain it to you more, but you won't remember this anyways. Now brace yourself, your spider is coming to save you. Very dedicated to you is she. Perhaps one day we shall meet again without the Chitauri in the middle." Clint tried to say something, anything but Loki released him and down into the fire he went once more until everything went black.... Clint woke to Natasha watching over him and the rest was history. Clint came back to himself, in the attic alone. Flat out on his back as he stared up at nothing. He remembered all of it now. Things began to make sense now. In all the dealings he had had since with Loki, there was a look he would give Clint, like he was looking for something, yet never spoke of it. Now he knew why. He picked up his phone and called a number. "Yea hey....no I'm fine I promise. Hey listen...do you know where I can find Loki?"
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08/25/2019 10:11 PM
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Who will save me now, drag me into light
Hi my name is Clint! Well not really but thats at least what you know me as!
Something thats been on my mind to share because Ive never really told many people is that I used to be an addict. Addiction of choice was any kind of pill that made me not feel anything. I was on medication years ago that I used to abuse the f*** out of just to see what would happen. I didn't care if I overdosed, I didnt care if I damaged my organs, I just wanted to feel as numb and as less as possible. Then one day after I had taken three times the prescribed dosage I was laying on my bed waiting to not feel and I looked up on my shelf and saw my sisters crafting knife and began to think of all the different arteries in my body I could cut to end it all and forever feel nothing. And for someone who had spent over a year chasing numbness it was almost weird how much that thought scared the f*** out of me.
I stopped taking my meds after that. Flushed them and just told my mother that I didn't want to take them anymore. The withdrawal period was absolute hell. Mainly because I told no one and did it alone. Id spend nights puking my guts up and then get up the next day and pretend to be fine. Id pass out and lie and say that it was because I hadnt eaten and my blood sugar was low.
After that it was hard for me to even take vitamins. I didn't want to be that person anymore. During my time in the military I took up drinking and after a night of drinking so much I almost fell down the stairs, I realized I was replacing pills with alcohol and I quit drinking. Thankfully no withdrawals there.
Now I am back on medication. Being bipolar with anxiety, depression, ptsd and agoraphobia means that when I try to go it alone, bad things happen. And I do take pain pills for my chiari malformation. The difference this time is that I take exactly what is prescribed and not a thing more.
I am literally petrified to become who I used to be. I dont want my kids ever seeing me like that. I worry constantly about falling back on old ways. I dont want to sit in that dark room in my head ever again.
Now no one asked for this kind of information about me and Im sorry if it bothers anyone but it was something I needed to get off my chest. I was an addict but I beat that demon. And heres hoping that I keep beating all of my demons in every form they take.
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08/14/2019 05:22 PM
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Say Something
Clint sat on the couch. It was place filled with memories. Both good and bad. This is where it had begun. Where I love you's were said and they had held each other. Clint was happy, happier than he had ever been. Just being with them was like being on a rollercoaster after you had already spun yourself dizzy. It was an amazing feeling, one Clint had craved and never wanted to end. The best high you could ever feel. Until one day, Clint realized that, while he still felt those feelings...it was horribly one sided. What was once loving arms, now gave him a cool distance. Instead of loving words he was now like a stranger. And then came the day when he was treated like a stranger in public, like they hadn't held each other murmuring words of comfort...Clint couldn't take it. Looking at the couch now he wanted to burn it, soak it in gasoline and watch it reduced to a cinder pile. He stood on shaky legs, grabbing his things quickly and almost running for the door. There was nothing left for him there now. Those eight words rang in his ears, haunted him and made it hard to breathe. He had to get away, away from everything that reminded him of them. He couldn't even speak their name in his head anymore. He made one aborted look back, almost wishing they would appear and make it right again. But he knew they wouldn't. Because they had never loved Clint as much as he had loved them. He threw his duffle into the back of his truck and hopped in, cranking it and pulling out, driving like the devil himself was after him. He didn't care how careless he was being in the moment. It didnt matter. He was heading to his farm and there he would stay. No more Hawkeye. No more Avengering. He was done with it all. He was just Clint Barton now, and Clint was going to find out just who the f*** Clint Barton was when the world didn't need him anymore.
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08/11/2019 10:01 PM
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Bitter Reunions
Clint's jaw was clenched so hard, he didn't know how he hadn't broken a tooth yet. His fists clenched so tight and for so long they were cramping. His emotions were every where, they jumped constantly from anger, sadness. betrayal, and just the smallest bit of elation that he was almost dizzy from it. Coulson was alive. Standing in front of him right now and acting as if nothing was the matter. Like he hadn't let Clint believe for 7 f***ing years that he had been the cause of his death. "Agent Barton?" Clint looked up and did the only thing he could. He punched him square in the face. "Don't f***ing Agent Barton me! Like you have some right to even act like I'm being unreasonable right now! You've been alive all this time and you never thought even once to tell me?!" Coulson almost seemed to look guilty at that but it was gone as quickly as it had crossed his now bruising face. "Director Fury felt it was best-" "Bullsh*t! Don't give me that! You wanted out and you finally had your chance! Finally got tired of me and Natasha huh? Wanted a better team? What the f*** was it?" Clint couldn't stop shouting. His heart was racing and he felt sick to his stomach. "You and Natasha didn't need me anymore. You had the Avengers Initiative. It was only a matter of time before you both left Shield and did that full time. Director Fury thought it best to make a clean break." Clint rubbed his face. "Man, that is the sh*ttiest excuse I've ever heard and I'm almost completely f***ing deaf...did you once stop and think that we cared for you? That we considered you part of our family? F***ing hell Coulson, you were the closest thing either of us ever had to a decent father figure?" He could see the guilt across the older man's face now. Something had finally broke through the unflappable agents facade. Clint sighed, closing his eyes to keep them from tearing up. "Does Nat know you're alive?" "No, you were both never to know." Well wasn't that a kick in the ass? Clint looked up, a bitter smile crossing his face. "I won't tell her. Let her keep on thinking that if her pseudo father could be, he wouldn't have left her side. That he isn't just as f***ed up as the ones that raised us." "Clint.." He tried but Clint interrupted him. "No. Just....don't say another f***ing word. We loved you, mourned for you...you were the father we never had and now I know how you felt about us all along...not a f***ing thing. Goodbye Agent Coulson. Have a nice life with your new team. May they never care about you as much as we did." Clint turned and walked out of the room, trying not to let it sting that he didn't try harder to stop him from leaving. He felt as if he had swallowed lead. He stepped onto the sidewalk and took a deep breath in and sighed heavily as he joined the crowd moving along. He wouldn't tell Nat about it, and prayed she never found out. She deserved at least one good memory of a parental figure. Clint wouldn't spoil that for the world.
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05/24/2019 04:48 PM
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What are you going to do about it?
Ok so here for quite a while now there has been nothing but drama. Every day there's something and I don't know about you but quite frankly its been slowly killing my muse to the point where I almost just gave up rp. And Ive seen more than a dozen posts and even made a few myself of things about positivity and what have you but when I sat down and thought about it, were they even doing any real good? We can all stand on our soap boxes and preach about this and that but in the end its not going to change a thing. And it reminded me of something I had been talking about with a coworker. We were discussing about political posts on facebook and he asked me, "Sure you can make posts all you want but they won't change anything. What are you doing to change the situation?" That struck something in me and now I've decided to try and change the situation. For several of us, this place is where we get the majority of our social interactions due to anxiety and other things and that's fine. Its not true for all of us though. At the core of it all Roleplay is a hobby and while it can be one we love very much, have any of us really loved it lately? Be honest. Hiatus stats have been going up like pop up ads in a clickbait article. Myself included. So here is what I'm going to do to try and help change the way I feel about being here. If people want to continue to wage drama wars and act like we are all back in high school that's fine, let em do it. I will no longer let myself pulled into it at all. I came here to write and have fun and by f***ing hell thats what I'm going to do. I am taking back the streams in my own way. I will first make a stat asking people to pick a number 1 through 4 or ask up or down, or something of that nature. Responding to the stat means you would like to join in the next stats rp adventure. Depending on the majority votes the next stat will be the little scenario in which our characters find themselves in. And in that stat, we all play it out. It could be a really funny stat play, or crazy or sad or angsty. Whichever it is we all just write it out together and have fun writing. This is not a one time deal. I will post them at random and whatever time of the day so everyone who would like to participate, no matter what timezone or country you are in, you will have a chance to play along with us all. For every drama filled post you see, post a funny pic as well and lets flood the streams with our reasons to be here, having fun as our characters. Lets take back our joy of writing and be proactive. Step off the soap boxes of self righteousness and actually do something about it. Hope to see you in the stats! First one will be Saturday!
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