Clint Barton's Journal (original) (raw)

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Below are the 6 most recent journal entries recorded inClint Barton's LiveJournal:

Thursday, December 13th, 2007
6:11 pm	Necessary background information. Being dead was, at it's best, confusing. One minute, there, the next, nowhere at all.Not that he was aware of it at all until that kid, the little blonde girl, Layla something-or-other worked his brain back to where it should have been before the Scarlet Witch re-ordered reality with a flick of her wrist, a toss of her hair and the suggestion of her brother.In this brave new world, Clint was alive. Healthy. Part of a team of "Avengers" led by Luke Cage, fighting for the rights of human beings to exist alongside the mutant ruling class. In the world that should be, he was dead. Killed by aliens summoned or created by the Scarlet Witch. His teammate. His friend.His murderess.All completely confusing. He was more used to the aim and shoot philosophy of life, really.So, when he got a chance to shoot, he held fire and demanded an answer. Why she'd killed him.Ridiculous, really. After all, you don't get answers from people whose brains have reached the expiration date on their warranty. No, you're lucky if they don't just burble happily into their lukewarm spaghetti. Or, you know, more frequently in the spandex line of work, they try to kill you. Again.Which she did.He felt reality unzip. He saw his bow, his hands for God's sake, tumble away, like a child's building blocks. The last thing he layed eyes on, before those eyes fell out of his head like discarded dice, was Wanda's red curls, framing a face in which the lights were still on, but the apartment had gone vacant a while back.Was this the end of our hero?Well...not quite. He didn't expect to wake up again. He was in no place to expect much of anything, really. No place at all. So, when he woke with a start behind a half-busted wall, the cold air chilling his face, his breath escaping in great plumes, he was, to be fair about it, a little taken aback. Shocked. Surprised.Flabbergasted, Jarvis would say, if he were here.Avengers Mansion, he figured out quickly, was in a shambles. Broken and left behind. It was home for so many years, for he and so many of his friends. Now, Tony had obviously abandoned it. What else had he abandoned? Why was he lying in the wreckage of what looked like the ground floor dining room, in what was left of this grand house?Why was he alive? Again?Too many questions, and no answers to be found. But nothing he couldn't handle, with a bow in his hand, and a quiver on his back. How many people get to hit the cosmic reset button and start over twice? Aside from the X-Men, anyway. Current Mood: confused (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Sunday, May 14th, 2006
8:22 am	The Morning After... [locked to She-Hulk] Clint's up early, as usual. A leftover from all the way back to his carny days: Once the sun peeks over the horizon, he can't usually manage more than an hour's sleep.He's out of bed gingerly, the better to leave Jen to sleep, and into the shower. He keeps the singing to a minimum, not wanting to disturb his houseguest, because he knows he can't carry a tune properly; Clint's always had to turn the music up high enough to drown out his own voice when he gets the urge to sing. He brushes his teeth in the shower, making sure to shave by touch while in there as well.Twenty minutes, and he's in the kitchen, putting the coffee on, and checking the news, while taking inventory of the refridgerator. The lady would probably appreciate some breakfast, after all.A low whistle of surprise at how little precisely is in his fridge, and he frowns, trying to remember the number of the local grocery delivery service. Can't run out and get anything. Jen would think poorly of him if he were gone when she woke up, and he likes her too much to want to disappoint her.He paws through the phone book for a good ten minutes. Clint is sipping strong black coffee when he finally finds the number. He orders enough to make several good meals for two, and relaxes, wandering back into the bedroom to root out a clean pair of jeans for around-the-house lounging. He slips into them, and sits on the corner of the bed, watching her sleep. It's not often he sees Jen this vulnerable. It's interesting. Current Mood: awake (46 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, May 6th, 2006
10:36 pm	Are there any poker players in the house?I don't play for anything but cash money, and I've been playing against such notables as Wolverine, Benjamin J. Grimm and Simon Williams for years. I'm in the mood to part some overconfident sucker from his hard-earned (or in the case of Deadpool, hardly-earned) cash. So, I ask again:Are there any poker-players in the house? Current Mood: hopeful (39 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, April 15th, 2006
5:55 am	[locked to She-Hulk] *carries Jen off to the small apartment he's been maintaining in New York. It's not much. Spartan would be the best description. A queen-size bed and a weight bench are the only peices of furniture. A tv rests on an impromptu stand made from milk crates. Two calendars, featuring hot girls leaning against shiny cars adorn the walls. Once through the door, he eases her to the ground, grunting with relief as he sets her down, and leans heavily on the doorframe to catch his breath.* Current Mood: sore (89 Comments |Comment on this)
Friday, April 1st, 2005
2:55 pm	Would a little friendly haunting, poltergeist-like activity be considered over the top for an April Fool's Day prank?Because I've got this idea...Luke Cage is an Avenger? Puh-leeeeze. This can NOT stand. Brace yourself, Tony. Incoming ghost.Current Mood: annoyed (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Wednesday, July 14th, 2004
1:30 am	Sometimes, I miss the circus life. I mean, being on the move, floating from town to town, not ever setting down roots, or forming real long-lasting attatchments.It's got a romanticism to it, you know?I certainly wouldn't be puttering around aimlessly because of what day it is on the calendar.Bobbi and my anniversary.I still miss her every single day. I know, wherever she is, she's probably missing me too.I hope that doesn't seem as egotistical as it reads. I just...I know Bobbi. She loved me every bit as much as I loved her. Hell, maybe more. I'm the one who broke things off with her, after all. I'm the one who started our seperation because I couldn't deal with the fact that she stood by and let a man die when we were trapped in the old west.Didn't mean I didn't love her. Didn't mean I wasn't in Hell every day I was without her. I've just never been great with keeping my feelings out in the open and on my sleeve. Not like Cap or Wanda, anyway. They feel something, you know about it. Me, I internalize. I hold it in. And I regularly blow my stack at something small because of it.Maybe therapy ain't a bad idea. I should look up Lenny Sampson. He's good at unraveling the knots people like us wind our heads into. Current Mood: melancholy (Comment on this)