In honour of writing all the things
Jun. 15th, 2012 10:19 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
delicataleSo, as you probably know (you may not, though, which is why I'm telling you now), ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sirona_gs launched a Write ALL THE THINGS Week, which is merely a little motivational post for all of us to get back on track with writing; some of us has lost the plot recently with so much stuff going on in our lives recently.
So, I've decided that for this week, I'll focus on my military!Clint story. Long story short: since watching the movie, and in particular that one scene in Med Bay with Clint and Natasha, I have wanted to write Clint's backstory as a military career type of person. The way he holds himself and acts and talks in the movie just fit that description, and by pushing a little at the corners of his comics origin story, I think it works.
So I've started writing this story, and I know where I want it to go. I don't think it will have a huge audience because there is no slash and no pairing; it's about Clint, and his journey through his life and his thoughts and how it leads him to SHIELD. Coulson does make appearances, but it's not about being romantic. So, really, it's quite out of the box for me, it's not something I'm used to do, especially since I want to be realistic about the military aspect of it, and I want to create a great atmosphere and I want details and I don't want to fuck it up.
Anyway, this is my project, d'you want an excerpt?
Sudan, 1998
There are places where there are no more shadows in which to hide. In the desert the heat is unflappable and the air is dry, and Clint can try all he wants to hide from it, it chases after him, sticks his fatigues to the back of his legs and neck, relentless. Nights are cold, cold enough to keep everyone in the tents, but spirits are high anyway. Kellerman keeps on talking about his new girlfriend, calls her his sweetheart every time he mentions her, and yet gives Hell to Jones whenever he utters the same word. The squadron’s tent is full of jokes and japes; crude, racist, irreverent, completely inappropriate, which is exactly what to expect from this bunch, and exactly how Clint knows they’re good. They’re bored, but they’re good.
Clint leaves them for a while, leaves camp around midnight, the air around him crisp, almost fresh, renewing itself; tomorrow’s another day, things can still change. They’ve been here a week, they’re not going to stay much longer, either – they’re not central to this operation but they’re needed on the ground anyway, just to make sure, higher-ups would say. It’s bullshit, they all know it, but Clint sleeps better with the sound of bombing in the background and he doesn’t want to think about what it means.
He was home before Sudan, and it felt even more shadowless than the desert plains; suddenly he was alone and terrified, in the middle of a city bustling with life. Barney could be anywhere, hoping to find him, hoping to bring him back to a life Clint hated, didn’t understand, didn’t fit in. It wasn’t so much the circus; the circus had been all right. It was the after hours, Barney and his friends up to no good, spiralling Clint along with them – and then the fights with Barney, the lies and the deceptions, the threats, the pleas, Barney’s incessant mood fluctuations, one minute a brother, the next an enemy.
Clint ran away, became Sergeant Barton, became Lieutenant Barton, and he’s started to fear coming home from a tour or an operation even more than being in war zones, because war zones are familiar, orders and men and sleeping in ditches and cursing the equipment they’re given, it’s easy in a way being home isn’t. It’s another one of these things he doesn’t want to think about. Out here in the desert, he doesn’t have to think about it – it’s all erased by the sand shifting under the soles of his boots, like the upper layers of skin; his past and his fears don’t exist out here as long as he doesn’t freeze during an op, and that has yet to happen to Clint.
Now, if only work would let me write some more today...I've been busy with football watching and things happening and I'm seeinglanyon on Sunday and I am SO EXCITED about this and vfndjkvbgfjkl work, allow me to write a little please.
sirona_gs launched a Write ALL THE THINGS Week, which is merely a little motivational post for all of us to get back on track with writing; some of us has lost the plot recently with so much stuff going on in our lives recently. So, I've decided that for this week, I'll focus on my military!Clint story. Long story short: since watching the movie, and in particular that one scene in Med Bay with Clint and Natasha, I have wanted to write Clint's backstory as a military career type of person. The way he holds himself and acts and talks in the movie just fit that description, and by pushing a little at the corners of his comics origin story, I think it works.
So I've started writing this story, and I know where I want it to go. I don't think it will have a huge audience because there is no slash and no pairing; it's about Clint, and his journey through his life and his thoughts and how it leads him to SHIELD. Coulson does make appearances, but it's not about being romantic. So, really, it's quite out of the box for me, it's not something I'm used to do, especially since I want to be realistic about the military aspect of it, and I want to create a great atmosphere and I want details and I don't want to fuck it up.
Anyway, this is my project, d'you want an excerpt?
Sudan, 1998
There are places where there are no more shadows in which to hide. In the desert the heat is unflappable and the air is dry, and Clint can try all he wants to hide from it, it chases after him, sticks his fatigues to the back of his legs and neck, relentless. Nights are cold, cold enough to keep everyone in the tents, but spirits are high anyway. Kellerman keeps on talking about his new girlfriend, calls her his sweetheart every time he mentions her, and yet gives Hell to Jones whenever he utters the same word. The squadron’s tent is full of jokes and japes; crude, racist, irreverent, completely inappropriate, which is exactly what to expect from this bunch, and exactly how Clint knows they’re good. They’re bored, but they’re good.
Clint leaves them for a while, leaves camp around midnight, the air around him crisp, almost fresh, renewing itself; tomorrow’s another day, things can still change. They’ve been here a week, they’re not going to stay much longer, either – they’re not central to this operation but they’re needed on the ground anyway, just to make sure, higher-ups would say. It’s bullshit, they all know it, but Clint sleeps better with the sound of bombing in the background and he doesn’t want to think about what it means.
He was home before Sudan, and it felt even more shadowless than the desert plains; suddenly he was alone and terrified, in the middle of a city bustling with life. Barney could be anywhere, hoping to find him, hoping to bring him back to a life Clint hated, didn’t understand, didn’t fit in. It wasn’t so much the circus; the circus had been all right. It was the after hours, Barney and his friends up to no good, spiralling Clint along with them – and then the fights with Barney, the lies and the deceptions, the threats, the pleas, Barney’s incessant mood fluctuations, one minute a brother, the next an enemy.
Clint ran away, became Sergeant Barton, became Lieutenant Barton, and he’s started to fear coming home from a tour or an operation even more than being in war zones, because war zones are familiar, orders and men and sleeping in ditches and cursing the equipment they’re given, it’s easy in a way being home isn’t. It’s another one of these things he doesn’t want to think about. Out here in the desert, he doesn’t have to think about it – it’s all erased by the sand shifting under the soles of his boots, like the upper layers of skin; his past and his fears don’t exist out here as long as he doesn’t freeze during an op, and that has yet to happen to Clint.
Now, if only work would let me write some more today...I've been busy with football watching and things happening and I'm seeing
lanyon on Sunday and I am SO EXCITED about this and vfndjkvbgfjkl work, allow me to write a little please.
