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I was re-reading it today, editing little bits–putting in better words for things and stuff, y’know, and every time I do that I’m always like “wow…I wrote this?”
As much as I make fun of it, I feel like this kinda goofy somewhat self-insert fan fiction for a video game I don’t even play has been one of my best works so far.
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
kinda random but what did you think of my writing style and prose? Is it a little annoying that the character’s thoughts kinda bleed onto the page sometimes? Like this:
Sniper kept pacing. Despite his attempt to remain an emotionless interrogator, I could see the pain in his eyes. Part of me would’ve gone over to take his hand if I hadn’t been tied up. The other part was too annoyed at him for tying us up in the first place to think of such a thing.
If anyone tells you relationships are easy, they are lying.
That last bit, is it annoying that she just inserts her thoughts on the topic at hand or do you feel like it’s an accurate representation of a first-person view?
you are past this part rightMy personal headcanon for this story is that Huntress is either writing all this down for the sake of someone who didn’t go through any of it and wants to know the story [honestly it’d be super funny if she were telling it to her and Sniper’s kids or something, so it’s basically a super long version of “oh yeah, this is how I met your dad” and like half of it they don’t even understand lol], or she’s writing for herself to remember everything that happened–for what reason I don’t know, but it might come to me eventually cause that’s how it goes with my writing. So to me, it stands to reason that she’d be randomly like “speaking of which, here’s a little thing I learned from this incident” because that’s what I’d do and I largely based her personality off myself (if I were a little crazy, that is). But I’m not sure how that style settles with my readers, so……
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
That’s perfectly fine if you’re too busy! Just tell me whenever you do have the time to write and I’ll get you that “inside information” lol
Got it!
I’m assuming that means you’re pretty much finished with what I’ve got.
Almost, I’ve been slacking a little though so I need to pick up on it again.
As much as I make fun of it, I feel like this kinda goofy somewhat self-insert fan fiction for a video game I don’t even play has been one of my best works so far.
Thats good, it is a nice, clean work that’s fun.
That last bit, is it annoying that she just inserts her thoughts on the topic at hand or do you feel like it’s an accurate representation of a first-person view?
No, I think it’s fine, I like how you tell your story.
My personal headcanon for this story is that Huntress is either writing all this down for the sake of someone who didn’t go through any of it and wants to know the story [honestly it’d be super funny if she were telling it to her and Sniper’s kids or something, so it’s basically a super long version of “oh yeah, this is how I met your dad” and like half of it they don’t even understand lol],
I like this one the best lol, that would be such a fun story to tell.
"No! Monkeys should have pets, all monkeys should have pets!"
@theshadow lol I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it!
No, I think it’s fine, I like how you tell your story.
yay!
I like this one the best lol, that would be such a fun story to tell.
Haha, yeah it would be hilariously funny, and it means I get to design Changeling/Argonite hybrids, which I bet would be super cool.
Honestly I have so many ideas for hybrids of all the different kinds. Maybe I should go over to the creatures chat and talk about them some……
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
Honestly I have so many ideas for hybrids of all the different kinds. Maybe I should go over to the creatures chat and talk about them some……
Yes please!! That would be really fun to hear your ideas.
"No! Monkeys should have pets, all monkeys should have pets!"
@mineralizedwritings @keilah-h @rae @euodia-vision @smiley @ellette-giselle
Chapter 3 👀
Chapter 3
He did not appreciate the glances Clint offered his way.
‘Twas only due to Laura Barton’s kind motherly spirit that their “fair maiden” had finally released the name given to her at birth: Yelena.
He knew not all what they had discussed, but gathered around the fire, with Laura nor Yelena present, Clint shot him the most searching, pointed glances.
‘Twas not settling.
No, he did not suspect Clint of anything bad nor malicious, but Clint did, in fact, have quite the reputation for being one to ask far too many questions—more questions than Steve ever appreciated or asked for.
Questions were something Steve had no desire for.
“It ‘tis curious how Laura was the one she spoke to at first.”
“Not surprising, Scott,” Clint said around a mouthful of soup, “for it ‘tis true my wife is the kindest woman I have ever laid eyes upon. It ‘tis not my tale to share, nay, Yelena did not even speak much of it when I was present, but Laura is speaking to her…it ‘tis likely that Yelena has such hidden, deep pain.”
Another settled, pointed look turned his way.
Steve tore off a piece of bread and shoved it into his mouth, chewing slowly.
Nay, he would not answer a question even if Clint so dared to ask.
It t’wasn’t fair that Clint insisted Steve open his deepest—no, he could never share what was best left covered and buried amidst the darkness.
“Ah, well, then I hope she may find peace here.” Scott murmured, also seated around the fire, slowly nodding.
Children who had long finished eating played a few meager feet away, laughing, smiling, giggling, twirling. Many still lacked proper weight, but over time, they seemed much less ill.
They were healthy—healthy as could be given such difficult conditions.
The health of all who lived in the forest, and others who lived in such poverty, it ‘twas his mission…his reason for fighting.
Lord Pierce, King Thor, Rumlow, others…they richly deserved what difficulties they so received: ‘twas only justice.
Was it not fair to provide for the defenseless by inconveniencing those that oppressed?
“Steven Grant, ‘tis it not true that there ‘twas more than enough to go around for all? And yet, I see it ‘tis also true that you permitted yourself very little food of all that has been prepared.”
Dragged from his reverie, heat spread across Steve’s face. He offered the faintest hint of a smile and glanced up at the brown-haired, gentle-spoken older woman regarded as the most motherly of all that lived in their forest sanctuary. “I ‘twas not very hungry.”
“Lies, Steven. It ‘tis unwise to lie to Winifred, for she knows you better than you may perhaps know yourself.”
“’Tis unfair for her to insist I need something I ‘twas in no need of, Sir Barnes.”
George and Winifred shared a glance, a glance that spoke more than words could possibly explain. Despite their care, Steve knew deep concern laid beneath their compassion. Not only concern for Steve, but for their three daughters and for the son they hadn’t seen in years—indeed, Winifred and George grieved Bucky as any loving, hurting parent would.
If they knew how he had failed, how he had not rescued, how he himself had fell victim—“He shall be punished with-“—no, no, NO.
He wasn’t the same man he was then. He was fighting back now—he was…he was—“Here, take a bowl of soup.” Laura’s gentle, telltale voice.
Steve turned his head. His gaze met Yelena’s, but she merely took the bowl offered to her by Laura and quickly glanced away. How long had Pierce had her imprisoned? Had she been there when Steve had failed to do what he’d vowed to do?
Did she know of his connection? Did she know who he was? Did she know what Pierce had done—‘Stop thinking about that.’ He admonished himself.
Steve stood, set his bowl alongside other bowls that had been emptied, offered a gentle nod Winifred’s way, thanking her for making the soup, and stepped away.
He shoved the last bite of bread into his mouth.
It wasn’t—no, he could not, would not, reminisce over all that had occurred.
Footsteps echoed behind him, and Steve groaned. Not Clint…not again.
When could he be left alone to fight his own fight? When could he be left alone to wrestle his own demons?
“Steve, don’t run away.”
A brisk turn of his heel, and Steve met Clint’s gaze. A single breath chuffed out, and he rasped, “Just leave me alone.”
Clint took a few steps forward—indeed, Clint could not listen to orders—and clasped Steve’s muscled shoulder. His eyes peered into Steve’s, questioning, searching. “…You can’t bury the pain forever, Steve.”
“You know nothing about me.” Steve retorted. He pulled his leather shoulder coverlet out of Clint’s grip and shook his head. “I’m not burying anything.”
“Your reluctance to be open with anyone is evidence that you’re hiding something, Steve.”
“Others need your aid far more than me—”
“Nay. Indeed, others are in need of help, but ‘tis also true that has no factor over whether or not you are in dire need of aid.”
No.
Don’t let anyone know.
Don’t let anyone close.
Don’t get your heart broken again.
“It ‘tis getting late, Barton,” Steve stepped away, keenly aware that his words had gripped the attention of others around the encampment, “I must retire for the night. ‘Twas a good day, but more must be done if we are to survive.”
“Steve…”
Steve turned on his heel and kept up a quick pace, arriving at his tent in mere moments. Whereas others had homes, he was quite fine with, even fond, of a tent.
Suited his needs well enough.
His breath chuffed, and Steve clenched and unclenched his fists.
“Breathe, breathe.” He whispered.
He would think not of his failure. He would think not of his best friend nor another that had been the love of his life. He would not think of the sting of the lash nor the fire of the brand.
Nay.
He would sleep and he would sleep well.
He would fight for the defenseless and provide for those who could not provide.
Steve swiftly changed into something more comfortable and settled down on the rough straw, eyes glued to the top of the tent. He removed his leather boots and settled deeper into the straw. He ran his fingers across his threadbare blanket, across loose threads his mother had tried so desperately to fix but never could. Such familiarity, such comfort.
An echo of a time when life was good, devoid of the loss of innocence, devoid of the crushing weight. An echo of a life that had been hard but filled with warmth, filled with a warm embrace that held him close and swiped away his tears, an embrace that kept him fed, clothed, and comforted. An embrace that kept him reminded, reminded of a love that knew no boundaries.
Steve yawned, still fingering the loose threads of the blanket that reminded him of such relentless warmth. His eyes slowly fluttered closed, and sleep did not flee from him.
~***~
“His Majesty will most appreciate his order being complete sooner, Stark.”
Hefting a bundle of glistening swords, Bucky cast the quickest of glances Rumlow’s direction. Despite how many times he’d seen the blacksmith the King seemed to respect so much, it didn’t take away the coldness that remained in the man’s dark brown eyes, nor the chill that spread up and down Bucky’s spine when he stepped within the shop.
He wondered if even the intelligent Tony Stark was blissfully unaware of Pierce’s evil.
He was close, so close to finding the identity of Pierce’s buyers, even closer to discovering the identity of Pierce’s hired thug—a pirate, if sources were indeed correct.
Though he knew not how Pierce could have connections to pirates.
Unless…“Buchanan, it takes not that long to place weaponry in the wagon.” Rumlow barked.
Bucky settled the swords in the wagon, briskly turned on his heel, and slightly bowed at the waist. “Apologies, Sir Rumlow.”
Rumlow scowled. “You better be.”
The quick glance from Stark—sympathy?
Nay, he had not time to ponder it. Best to gather the weaponry quickly, else risk the sting of the lash. The stiffness yet remained from the last demonstration of the lash upon his back.
Bucky winced and lifted another bundle.
Indeed, he could not risk thinking, nor tarrying—the pondering over Pierce’s illegal matters was dangerous enough even if he did not tarry in his duties.
Nay, Pierce had not yet discovered that Bucky could read—and did read—his occasional message. He thought Bucky too uneducated to learn.
Well, he would never be right about that.
Despite the poverty they suffered, Winifred Barnes had never been a woman to consider education a waste—nay, his Ma had ensured they knew how to read and write and think for themselves.
His stomach clenched.
He missed his Pa and his Ma. And Caroline, Kathleen, and Becca. And Steve.
There were times he wished he’d accepted the offer, but nay, he had to discover Pierce’s buyers and most of all his thug before too much time passed and he could no longer discover them.
Bucky chewed on his bottom lip.
Pierce hid something—something massive, something he discussed not in his letters. Indeed, Bucky knew Pierce hated to be stolen from…lied to.
But nay, he couldn’t be after Rogers Hood and his Woodland Rangers. Or could he?
Steve was strong, intelligent, skilled, and passionate: qualities a man like Pierce loved if they worked for him rather than against him. But indeed, Steve would likely sooner die than work for Pierce.
Though enslavement was a burden some had to bear.
Nay, Pierce would not lay hands upon Steve Rogers again—he could not.
The begs…the screams…the pleas.
No, he would not even consider it would happen again.
The discovery of Pierce’s buyers and the thug he had hired was of the most importance.
Bucky slung the last bundle of weaponry into the wagon and watched as Rumlow handed Stark a meager payment.
Stark glanced at the money, at the wagon, at his shop, and then Rumlow. He raised a single eyebrow and frowned. “This is not the payment His Majesty agreed upon.”
Rumlow smirked and nodded, turning to the wagon and motioning Bucky into the coach’s seat. “It ‘tis the payment Lord Pierce decided was quite enough—and quite fitting, given your inability to listen to his counsel.”
“I cannot afford help.”
Bucky settled into his seat, gripping the horses’ reins.
Pierce had given Stark a payment less than the King had first agreed upon—Lord Pierce was nothing except a criminal that grew far more evil with each passing moment.
“Then help shall be forced upon you, Stark, or else you shall lose this establishment entirely.”
Stark opened his mouth, closed it, stared at Rumlow, and opened his mouth again. He quickly closed it, turned on his heel, and marched back within his shop, the door closing behind him with an echoing thud.
Rumlow chuckled and settled on the seat beside Bucky, admiring a single silver blade and grinning like a madman. “Stark will soon find that it is ill-thought of him to try and undermine Lord Pierce’s power—nay, he will soon learn that Pierce is a Lord not to be trifled with. There are grave consequences for crossing him—blasted, Buchanan, get this wagon moving! We don’t have all day.”
“Yessir.” Bucky bit out.
Nay, it was very unwise to cross Lord Alexander Goodwin Pierce.
‘Twas only a matter of time before all learned that.
He nudged the horses along and released a deep sigh underneath his breath. He would discover Pierce’s buyers and his hired thug—for every life depended upon it.
Bucky glanced up, set his jaw, and stared straight ahead, vowing he would never stop—nay, not even if his life depended upon it.
✨ who the Son sets free is free indeed ✨
@theshadow All righty, I’ll be sure to do that!
@freed_and_redeemed wowwww I’m loving this story! My only issue: I get you’re trying to do a pseudo-Old English speech pattern, so it’s not accurate by any means, but when you say “It ’twas” the T in ’twas already stands for “it” so it’s kinda redundant.Not anything that diminishes the quality of the story though, it’s still amazing.
I would have loved to show you the medieval fan art that this story is reminding me of, but it’s all for two of my other fandoms and is 0% Marvel related…..lol
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
@keilah-h Tysm!!! I’m so glad you’re enjoying it!! :3
I wouldn’t mind seeing them! You just may have to give some context😂
✨ who the Son sets free is free indeed ✨
@freed_and_redeemed haha!
ok.
maybe they exist in the same universe as yours…..just in like kingdoms really far away that don’t concern themselves with this one’s mess lol
Where'd I get ya this time? The liver? The kidney? I'm runnin' outta places to put holes in ya.
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