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fandomweekly2016-02-10 11:34 am
peaceful_sands) wrote in fandomweekly2016-02-10 11:34 am
Entry tags:
[#002] Perfect is the Only Option (Marvel Hawkeye)
Theme Prompt: #002 Practice Makes Perfect
Title: Perfect is the Only Option
Fandom: Marvel Hawkeye (pre-movies)
Rating/Warnings: (Language, violence, mature content, spoilers?) T
Bonus: No
Word Count: 751
Summary: Clint is learning to shoot.
Disclaimer : All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Perfect Is The Only Option
He’s aware of the sand underfoot, the smell of stale popcorn and face paint. Dimly he hears the shouts in the distance but they are outside, and more importantly they don’t seem to be coming closer. He can’t make out anything that sounds like his name, not that he can rely on that with his hearing.
The light is low but enough to see what’s in front of him. He takes a breath, closes his eyes, lifts the bow and as he breathes out, he opens his eyes and lets the arrow fly. Straight and true. He takes another arrow and nocks it. He’s halfway around the outline of a person on the target before him, every arrow perfectly placed the same distance from the outline.
He draws, breathes and lets the next one fly. Same distance out from the outline, same distance away from the last. He can do it. He can.
Three arrows later, not a single falter and he can feel the fear begin to dissipate. He is learning, he is getting better, he can earn his keep here.
“Do you think you’ve got all night, boy? Do you think all those townies will come here to watch you for an hour?”
Clint’s head drops, the fear back in full force at the harsh voice behind him.
“It’s no good being able to do it, if you can’t make a show of it! What use are you to us if you can’t bring in the crowd? We may as well leave you behind when we move on. At least your brother earns his keep, but you’re nothing!”
He braces himself, knowing what’s coming next, doesn’t let slip a sound when it does.
“You’d better replace the target and start again! And you’d better have something worth showing before you pack up!”
He doesn’t look up until he’s sure the figure is moving away, tilts his head enough to be sure. He turns back to the target, plucks two arrows from his quiver and nocks them both. He barely needs to take a breath, before he’s loosing them both, relishing seeing them sink deep into the target exactly where the eyes would be. Without pause, he pulls another and sinks it into the heart.
He takes a breath, lays his bow and quiver safely to the side, before he moves over to pull out the arrows and tear down the target. Putting up a new target, he takes the arrows back, replacing them in his quiver and starts over again.
He can do it. He knows he can do it, but the fear is that even once he might slip and hit the person that would be standing there when they make him do this in front of the crowds. Add in light and noise, distorted noise that he won’t be able to distinguish and one of the young girls from the circus dressed in sparkles, crowds, the fear.
Clint starts over, deliberately going faster, not fast enough yet for a show, but enough that eventually he will get there. He knows it’s inevitable – he’s either fast and accurate or he’s leaving and this time Barney won’t be coming with him, because Barney’s got a home here.
This might not be what he wants, but it’s better than what came before and at least he’s fed and clothed and they move often enough that if he finds something else he can be the one to move on without them, not that that is likely to be anytime soon and there are some good people here.
He doesn’t want to be like Barney anymore, not like he did when he was a little kid, but now . . . Barney’s changed, he’s different, darker. There’s more to it than the pockets he’s picked, something deeper, darker to his brother that Clint doesn’t like and Trickshot is part of it, all of it maybe.
Clint doesn’t want to know, but he’s got to do something, be something or he’ll have nothing. The circus is no place for people who don’t earn their keep. He’s known that for more than long enough, but what else can he do?
He walks back to the target, checks every arrow’s position before he pulls it out. Every single one is perfect. He sets the target again and starts over. He’ll be fast enough, perfect enough before he packs up for the day.
He’ll be perfect because there is no alternative.
Title: Perfect is the Only Option
Fandom: Marvel Hawkeye (pre-movies)
Rating/Warnings: (Language, violence, mature content, spoilers?) T
Bonus: No
Word Count: 751
Summary: Clint is learning to shoot.
Disclaimer : All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Perfect Is The Only Option
He’s aware of the sand underfoot, the smell of stale popcorn and face paint. Dimly he hears the shouts in the distance but they are outside, and more importantly they don’t seem to be coming closer. He can’t make out anything that sounds like his name, not that he can rely on that with his hearing.
The light is low but enough to see what’s in front of him. He takes a breath, closes his eyes, lifts the bow and as he breathes out, he opens his eyes and lets the arrow fly. Straight and true. He takes another arrow and nocks it. He’s halfway around the outline of a person on the target before him, every arrow perfectly placed the same distance from the outline.
He draws, breathes and lets the next one fly. Same distance out from the outline, same distance away from the last. He can do it. He can.
Three arrows later, not a single falter and he can feel the fear begin to dissipate. He is learning, he is getting better, he can earn his keep here.
“Do you think you’ve got all night, boy? Do you think all those townies will come here to watch you for an hour?”
Clint’s head drops, the fear back in full force at the harsh voice behind him.
“It’s no good being able to do it, if you can’t make a show of it! What use are you to us if you can’t bring in the crowd? We may as well leave you behind when we move on. At least your brother earns his keep, but you’re nothing!”
He braces himself, knowing what’s coming next, doesn’t let slip a sound when it does.
“You’d better replace the target and start again! And you’d better have something worth showing before you pack up!”
He doesn’t look up until he’s sure the figure is moving away, tilts his head enough to be sure. He turns back to the target, plucks two arrows from his quiver and nocks them both. He barely needs to take a breath, before he’s loosing them both, relishing seeing them sink deep into the target exactly where the eyes would be. Without pause, he pulls another and sinks it into the heart.
He takes a breath, lays his bow and quiver safely to the side, before he moves over to pull out the arrows and tear down the target. Putting up a new target, he takes the arrows back, replacing them in his quiver and starts over again.
He can do it. He knows he can do it, but the fear is that even once he might slip and hit the person that would be standing there when they make him do this in front of the crowds. Add in light and noise, distorted noise that he won’t be able to distinguish and one of the young girls from the circus dressed in sparkles, crowds, the fear.
Clint starts over, deliberately going faster, not fast enough yet for a show, but enough that eventually he will get there. He knows it’s inevitable – he’s either fast and accurate or he’s leaving and this time Barney won’t be coming with him, because Barney’s got a home here.
This might not be what he wants, but it’s better than what came before and at least he’s fed and clothed and they move often enough that if he finds something else he can be the one to move on without them, not that that is likely to be anytime soon and there are some good people here.
He doesn’t want to be like Barney anymore, not like he did when he was a little kid, but now . . . Barney’s changed, he’s different, darker. There’s more to it than the pockets he’s picked, something deeper, darker to his brother that Clint doesn’t like and Trickshot is part of it, all of it maybe.
Clint doesn’t want to know, but he’s got to do something, be something or he’ll have nothing. The circus is no place for people who don’t earn their keep. He’s known that for more than long enough, but what else can he do?
He walks back to the target, checks every arrow’s position before he pulls it out. Every single one is perfect. He sets the target again and starts over. He’ll be fast enough, perfect enough before he packs up for the day.
He’ll be perfect because there is no alternative.
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