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crackinthecup · 8 days

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

@gardensofthemoon thank you so much for the tag! It was super interesting reading your responses :D <3

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 51

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 465,678

3. What fandoms do you write for? Bold to assume I write at all I've always mainly just written for the Silm BUT I have recently become obsessed with The Locked Tomb series so miiiiiiight do some writing in that universe. At some point. Maybe.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Yield to the Moment takes the cake here, which is not surprising given that it's a 300k Angbang modern AU slowburn beast of a fic.

Then we've got Strange New World, set in my Swords 'verse, which takes a look at Melkor and Mairon post-Dagor Dagorath through a mental health-y and relationship/character study lens.

Third up is A bond once called fealty, also in the Swords 'verse.

Then there's The Metal Cage, which is shameless Angbang PWP focused on chastity play.

And finally A quiet sort of introspection, also part of the Swords 'verse, a bit experimental in the sense of taking Melkor's POV in second person.

5. Do you respond to comments? Always! I feel it's only fair if someone's taken the time to share their thoughts with me. Plus it's often such a fun, creative space where you get to bounce around ideas with the commenter.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Not entirely sure, actually. Don't think I tend to write particularly angsty endings. No Other Choice, maybe? It's about the Fëanorian attack on the Havens and the choice Elwing makes when she jumps into the sea.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Probably YTTM. I'm pretty pleased with the ending actually; feels like it pulls together a bunch of narrative threads and highlights all the amazing growth the characters have done. Also, it's a wedding at the end of a very long, very bumpy slowburn.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I have, yeah, years and years ago, around an abusive take on Angbang; but generally I find that the Silm fandom is very lovely and very welcoming.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do! Quite a lot of it haha. I think, for me, the appeal isn't so much the physical act in and of itself, but what's going on for the characters behind the scenes as it were, emotionally/psychologically. Especially with a ship like Angbang where they spectacularly fail at talking to each other so a lot of juicy unspoken stuff gets acted out through physical intimacy.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Nope, never written a crossover, nor do they hold much appeal for me personally.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I have. Sadly those fics had been written around 2015-16 and I deleted them a few years back at a time when my mental health was... spicy. I couldn't say whether the translations are still out there somewhere.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yep! YTTM started out as a co-write.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Angbang. There's just a lot of layers to their dynamic that scratch an itch in my brain. Power imbalance. Fucked-up-ness. Possessiveness/protectiveness. Worship. Loyalty.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I've got a WIP from almost ten years ago about Celebrimbor in Gondolin and I'm not sure if the interest/time/motivation is still there for me to ever pick it up again :')

16. What are your writing strengths? Hmm I tend to put a fair amount of thought into characters' emotional experiences and I also enjoy playing around with fun ways to describe things.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I guess there's a flipside to focusing on emotional experiences in that sometimes I might humanise characters like the Ainur too much and lose some of their eldritchness. I also tend to be quite disorganised with my plotting, and by disorganised I mean that I just sit down and start writing without a plan or outline and sometimes I can end up scrambling to tie everything together and make it make sense and I'm not sure how effective that is. Also also, I don't find endings very easy to come up with.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Sure, if done purposefully in a way that furthers the plot or tells me something about the characters.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Harry Potter, I think! Those fics are not on the internet anymore and that is probably for the best haha.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? Ohhh see, I don't actually like my own writing very much (cheers, perfectionism) and I very very rarely re-read it. But I do think some bits in YTTM are fun, and my latest ficcy that I've written (Reason to Try) which is a ficcy of @tarmairons' ficcy kinda shifted something in my brain for the better and I revisit it sometimes on bad mental health days.

Let's see which lovely people to tag: @markedasinfernal, @elevenelvenswords, @undercat-overdog, @lvsifer, @foxindarkness and anyone else who sees this and would like to have a go (if you want to! zero pressure)

#meme things #thank you again for the tag!#this was fun :3

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nattikay · 2 years

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Just wanted to apologize for not posting much art lately. I’ve been really busy with irl stuff, including but not limited to job search shenanigans, a big commission for an irl friend (which I will post soon now that I have permission), craft prep for a family reunion activity, and most currently...scrambling to get a bunch of AWU projects done before the con because dang, July kinda snuck up on me. ^^;

That last bit said, I still probably won’t have much to post for the next two weeks because I still need to finish:

Three fursuit heads: Natti 3.0: furring ears, hair tuft, cheek tufts, neck, mouth details Daisy: neck, mouth details, possibly a fresh trim to tidy markings Zena: neck, mouth details

Seven Badges: The art for these is all done, I just need to print and laminate them. I guess the printing itself could be done at any time, but I’m waiting for the holographic film I ordered to arrive so I can make them all pretty uwu

Room Poster: The flatcolor is done, I just have to shade and print. Unfortunately shading takes a long time; might have to simplify ^^; We’ll see though

Muzzle Mask: Since AWU was silly enough to ask twitter for their opinion, masks are now required. Figure if I’m gonna be forced to wear one it might as well be stylish. Gonna try to make one of those 3D muzzle style masks except hollow on the inside so it’s not constantly rubbing up against my nose and fogging up my glasses. I have an ok idea of how I want to do it so let’s keep our fingers crossed and hope said idea goes smoothly and doesn’t take too long ^^;

New wings: This is definitely lowest on the priority list, but if I have time I’d also like to make a nicer pair of wings for Natti; her current ones are kinda a lumpy hard-to-read mess

so hoo boy yeah that’s a lotta stuff needless to say, I’ll be scramblin for the next little while. Once the con is over tho I’ll have more time to do other art stuffs, including hopping into this year’s ArtFight. wish me luck lol

#natti and zena's necks are solid colors so they'll be easy but daisy's has a lot of markings #and ngl i am seriously considering just cutting out the pattern for her at home then doing the sewing on the plane :P #guess i could technically work on the poster on the plane too #but then i'd have to find somewhere in utah to print it #hmm...#well anyways like i said wish me luck ^^;

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viostormcaller · 4 years

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Stringbound Chapter 3

A/N: I really really hope this works... sorry if it’s formatted a bit weird! EDIT: ohmygod I forgot the fucking taglist I am so sorry XD EDIT 2: I forgot amidst my frustration of trying to post this here that I was supposed to edit in all the italics. So I did that. Whoops!

[TW: nausea/vomiting mention, blood, death mention]

Chapter 2

The first thing Marvin noticed behind the darkness of his eyelids was the headache, its ever-persistent pounding and squeezing against his skull as agonizing as it had been since the fight, if not more so. Next was the stomachache, not enough yet to be nauseating, mostly just sore for the time being. Third was the heat; he could tell blankets had been piled on him again -- the same ones from before, no doubt -- and despite how much he was sweating, he also found himself shivering. It was harder to breathe, as well, though it wasn't because of the blankets. However, he didn't feel the need to worry -- he could feel a mask against his mouth and nose and felt significantly cooler air entering his body when he inhaled. Henrik must have put him on an oxygen machine. He also felt that one of his arms was outside of the blankets, and while he couldn't feel it he could tell by the way his arm was positioned that there was an IV there. He could tell he was on the couch instead of in a hospital bed, and he could hear soft murmuring close by. After he felt like he'd done enough assessing of the situation, Marvin slowly opened his eyes, squinting and letting out a quiet, pained groan as the bright daylight entering the room agitated his headache further.

At the noise he heard, Henrik quickly turned around from the crouched position by the couch that he had placed himself in, eyes wide and curious. "Marvin?" he prompted. "Are you awake?"

"Y-yeah…" Marvin got out. "Yes, I'm awake…"

"How do you feel?"

"Awful," Marvin stated plainly. It had been years since he'd felt this sick.

"What symptoms are you having?" Henrik then asked, grabbing the notepad and pen from off the table.

"Headache, chills… I feel warm and cold at the same time. And it's still a bit hard to breathe."

"Any lightheadedness?"

"No."

"Dizziness?"

"Thankfully, no."

"Are you having any pains in the chest at all?"

"No. Aside from it feeling a bit tight, of course, but it doesn't hurt."

"Do you feel nauseous?"

"No, not… not yet, anyway. I'm unsure if I'll be feeling sick later, though…"

"Hm, alright… I will keep the eye on it, and the bucket will be close by, just in case." Henrik proceeded to write all of Marvin's answers down on a piece of paper. He would transfer them to a proper document later, but this will do for now. Actually, while they were on the subject…

"Oh, Marvin?" Henrik spoke up, not looking up from his paper quite yet.

"Mmh?"

"I have some more questions for you, about your reaction to the medicine, yes? Would you mind if I asked them now, or do you want to answer them later, when you are feeling a bit better?"

"We can…" Marvin took a moment to think. It didn't take long to come to a decision. "We can answer them now, but… can you dim the light in the room a bit? It's… making my head ache horribly…"

"Oh! Oh, of course! I apologize, I did not even consider that! Jackie, do you think--?"

"Yup, one step ahead of you," cheerfully replied Jackie, who had been standing by this whole time. He pulled all the curtains closed and dimmed the kitchen light some. "How's this? This good?" he called to Marvin.

Marvin fully opened his eyes, finally able to see without painfully squinting. His headache hadn't gone away, but this was definitely an improvement. "Much better," he sighed. "Thank you."

"No problem, just doin' my job."

Henrik just chuckled, shaking his head as a small grin tugged at the corners of his lips. Then he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, refocusing himself. "Right, yes. The symptoms. What did you notice after you had taken that medicine?"

Marvin hummed, thinking for a moment. "I remember feeling… nauseous first. The ironic part about that is, after you injected me, it actually helped to ease the nausea. However, when I was talking with Chase, it… came back. The headache followed."

Henrik nodded, writing this down. "Alright, what else?"

"While I was, er… being sick, I remember looking up and the room was spinning. Everything was blurry -- I couldn't tell you if I was seeing triple or more than that. And then I found it harder and harder to breathe in, and from there I began to experience what I can only describe as delirium…"

"Ah, yes," Henrik interjected, looking up. "I remember you mumbling nonsense at me. Do you remember what it was you were saying? Or, well… trying to say?"

Marvin just shook his head. "My guess would be just as good as yours. I haven't a single idea. Heh, I am at the very least grateful I wasn't mumbling any spells. That could have made things a bit… chaotic."

Henrik hummed in agreement, nodding, before continuing. "The only thing I did understand was when you said you felt as if you were going to pass out."

"Ah. Yes, I remember saying that," Marvin confirmed. "I felt very lightheaded seemingly out of nowhere and I was almost positive that I would pass out. Though in my half-conscious state, I couldn't tell if my warning was in my mind or if I'd spoken it aloud. I'm grateful it was the latter."

"Was that all you felt?" Henrik inquired, looking up from his notes once more.

"No, there is one more thing I remember… every vein in my body seemed to ache not long after those first symptoms appeared. At the time I'd no clue what was happening to me, but looking back it could have only been a side effect of the medicine."

Henrik nodded, continuing his furious scribbling on the paper. Finally he let out a breath and put the pen and notepad down on the coffee table. "I thank you for your help, Marvin. One, for being so cooperative, and two, for being my unintentional test subject. I am glad we did not give this to any patients… I am not sure a higher dose of this would be very safe."

"So… does that mean our original plan is a no-go?" Jackie spoke up, a concerned look in his eye.

"I am afraid so," Henrik replied sadly, turning back towards the hero. "The dose I gave Marvin was small, and you can see what it had done to him. In a higher quantity, it could potentially kill someone, and we are trying to avoid that, yes?"

Jackie muttered a curse under his breath, looking away.

"What are you going to do now?" Marvin asked, glancing between them both.

"When Chase returns, we are going to talk more deeply about this. We need a new plan."

Marvin's eyebrows furrowed. "Chase is out? Where did he go?"

"Oh, just to pick up some supplies. Non-perishable food items, medicine… that sort of thing. Is good to be stocked up, yes? Especially now that we have a new person on board."

Marvin slowly nodded in understanding. Yes, that was a smart move. He then looked up, seeing Jackie nearing closer with a grin on his face. Uh oh.

"Hope you didn't lose one of your "nine lives" while you were fighting the effects of the medicine, because we're gonna need you for this. You think you're up for it?"

Marvin just narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you always this utterly idiotic?"

"Hey, be nice!" Jackie protested, placing a hand on his chest and feigning hurt. "I'm the one who saved your life, remember? You'd probably be dead right now if it weren't for me! You better be grateful I stayed home, too, Sourpuss. Had I gone on patrols, there'd be no one to carry Schneep's medical equipment up to you. So there!"

Marvin rolled his eyes and looked away. He'd cross his arms, but one of them had the IV sticking out of it, so that wouldn't be the best idea. Henrik could only laugh to himself, shaking his head. It was easy to forget how much of a child Jackie still was, until they had moments like this.

"Do you need anything, Marvin?" Henrik asked, pulling himself from his thoughts.

"A… a cloth over my head would be appreciated," Marvin admitted.

"I'll get it!" Jackie announced.

"No, I will get it," Henrik quickly interjected, rising from his spot on the floor. "You have bothered Marvin enough for one day, I feel."

As Henrik turned to stretch, Jackie stuck his tongue out at him when he wasn't looking.

Just then, the door swung open, startling everyone in the room. It was no other than Chase, of course, carrying a few bags of groceries, but… he was covered in splatters of… blood?

"Before you ask, no, the blood isn't mine," Chase spoke up, gently kicking the door shut behind him and setting the plastic grocery bags down on the floor.

"Holy shit, what happened?!" Jackie exclaimed.

"Dude, it's like a war zone out there!" Chase said. "Have you seen the news? God, there's fuckin' people everywhere! All scramblin' around tryin' to stock up. He's got his puppets on the loose. I was fuckin' lucky to get outta there alive…"

Jackie let out a curse, quickly snatching up the remote sitting on the coffee table and turning on the TV, switching it to the news channel. The four of them watched as the woman on the TV explained the scene unfolding downtown, showing an aerial view of what was going on. There weren't that many puppets, but just enough to cause havoc.

"I gotta go," Jackie got out, tossing the remote down and already heading for the door. He was grateful that he was already suited up.

"Jackie, wait," Chase called, reaching a hand out to him.

Jackie paused in his tracks, turning to face Chase with a hum. The determination and urgency in his eyes was unmistakable.

"Are you… sure it's safe to go out there? Like… alone, I mean?"

Jackie just huffed, almost like he'd laughed. "I mean, it's not, but who else is gonna do it, if not me? Marvin's out of commission, and you know as well as I do that the police do fuck-all."

Chase just looked away with a thoughtful hum. Jackie had a point, he couldn't deny that.

"I gotta go. See you in a few hours, alright?"

"Stay safe, Jackie," Henrik said.

"Yeah, man… be careful out there. Shit's a mess." Chase agreed.

Jackie huffed, a smile growing on his face. "No need to worry, guys. I'll be fine, trust me." And with that, he was out the door.

Henrik turned the news off with a sigh, recalling his ever-present fear of watching the news on a late night only to hear that the city's famed vigilante, Jackieboy Man, was dead. Every time he left the house, he mentally prepared himself for that day, and every time he hoped it never came.

"Well…" Chase spoke up, breaking the uneasy silence. "I'm gonna go shower. Gotta get this blood off me."

"Yes, good… good idea," Henrik nodded, clearly preoccupied.

"Um, Chase, if you don't mind my asking, how did you get blood on you in the first place?" Marvin asked.

Chase looked to Marvin with saddened eyes. "Had to witness a puppet killing someone… was too close when it happened. I'm never gonna forget that… the look on their face… the way they screamed…" Chase could only sigh, hugging himself. He shook his head, turning towards the stairs. "I… I need to be alone for a while…" With that, he left to go grab some clean clothes and a towel from his room so he could get cleaned up.

There was a heavy silence lingering in the room after Chase left, thick as the blankets covering Marvin and twice as suffocating. Finally, letting out a breath as if to push away some of the fog-like tension to give himself a little breathing room, Henrik turned away from the TV and headed towards the closet under the stairs. "Marvin, you said you wanted a cloth for the head, yes?"

Marvin perked up at his name, looking towards Henrik. "Er, y-yes, uh… yes, that would… help…"

Henrik nodded, fetching a small washcloth and heading towards the kitchen sink. He turned on the faucet and let the water run over his hand, adjusting the temperature between hot and cold until he was sure that it was cool and not cold. He then grabbed a spare bowl, filled it with the water, and headed back over to the couch. He took great care in dipping the folded washcloth in the water, wringing it out, and placing it over Marvin's forehead, though Marvin expected nothing less from a doctor.

"How does that feel? Good?"

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate it," Marvin answered with a nod.

"Is there anything else you need?"

"No, not at all. Thank you, though." His answer was honest, but even if he did need something, he wouldn't dare ask. Not right now.

With a simple nod, Henrik rose, heading for the basement. He wasn't gone for very long, but when he came back up, Marvin noticed that he was now wearing gloves. He watched with intrigue as Henrik went about setting down some paper towels on the kitchen floor. Then, Henrik began to set the grocery bags on the paper towels, carrying as many over as he could at one time until all the bags were moved. It was only then that Marvin was able to see the blood splattered on some of the plastic bags. He'd been previously confused, but now what Henrik was doing made sense. He continued to silently watch as Henrik took off the gloves and set them aside, grabbed a new pair from his pocket, and put them on. He began to sort the groceries, putting away the food items and setting aside the medicines and Band-Aids and the like to be stored downstairs with the first-aid supplies.

Once the food was put away and the medicine separated, Henrik grabbed as many medicines as he could in his arms and headed for the basement stairs. It took him two trips to get everything down, though when he came back up he brought with him a biohazard bin. All the plastic bags, paper towels, and the first pair of gloves were tossed in. He then grabbed some more paper towels and a bottle of some sort of cleanser Marvin didn't recognize right away and began to spray and wipe down the area by the door where Chase had dropped the bags. Once everything was clean and put away, he headed back downstairs with the bin, and when he came up he was empty-handed and no longer wearing his gloves. He settled himself into the armchair with a sigh, letting himself get lost in his thoughts. Not a word was spoken between him and Marvin. Eventually the pair heard Chase come out of the bathroom, the opening and closing of one door, and then the opening and closing of another. Chase didn't come back downstairs after that. Eventually Henrik, too, excused himself, mentioning he was going back downstairs to check on Jack for a bit, leaving Marvin alone in the living room.

That thick duvet of silence never truly left, but as the number of people within the room dwindled, it grew ever heavier, threatening to swallow everything that remained there, Marvin included. With a heavy, tired sigh, however, he decided he wouldn't let it, instead allowing his mind to wander, to silently fill the space with his own muted noise. And he simply waited, waited for Henrik to return, for Chase to come back downstairs. For Jackie to come home.

Taglist: @jade-orade @taizu-lazure @bupine @innocent-angel3 @immabethehero @wowowgoodurl @n-anon @g-rexthedino @scarletender @coconutpillow05 @friezzzboiii (Ask if you would like to be tagged!!)

#nausea mention tw #vomiting mention tw #blood tw #death tw #jacksepticeye #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #chase brody #dr. schneeplestein #antisepticeye #stringbound #stringbound chapter 3 #vio stormcaller

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whatcouldgowrong-ohthat · 5 years

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What do YOU know about love?

Alright, here’s the second Song-fic! I’ve learned that some of these are going to be mini series things within the overall world. I’m thinking Steve’s will have two more parts and this one will definitely be a three parter. I already have songs for Tony, Loki, and Bucky around the corner so keep a look out for those! And the sequels to this and Steve’s. :)

Summary: Various Avenger x Reader one-shots with songs from musicals. In this one — Sam is in utter disbelief at the hope you have in your blind date, but in the end is it really his place to say otherwise? Sam X Reader (eventually), OC X Reader (<- that part ain’t gonna last long, just be patient!) (Song is “What do you know about love” from the Frozen Soundtrack.)

Warnings: Bit of fluff and teasing from our beloved Sammy boy, lotta arguing because you, the reader, are stubborn as shit, and there’s cussing. Sam really does love being right and proving you wrong.

Word Count: 4275 words

Please don’t post my work anywhere without my permission. :)

Never would he ever listen to Barton about working with a new partner. New partners required adjusting, patience, and Bucky had taught him that those particular traits were something he personally lacked in. That was okay. Eventually their rivalry developed a level of trust and respect that he could work with. Not every one was Steve Rogers.

But then Clint went and requested that he partner with someone else for a mission. Her. She made working with Bucky feel like a ride in the park. He’d gladly lose a thousand steering wheels to the Winter Soldier if it meant never having to go on another mission with this agent. She was stubborn, rarely listened to his instructions, hotheaded, so focused that she sometimes focused on the wrong thing — And oh yeah.

She was a fucking badass.

That detail just made it more infuriating because she had earned her arrogance. Back in the day, she would reprogram Tony’s suits for the hell of it and even helped with Rhodey’s design after the accident. She’d been on missions with Clint and Natasha. She’d been one of those to survive the snap and during that time she had spent time keeping Clint alive while he was blinded by his rage. Since Thanos was defeated, she’d spent most of her time on vacation in Wakanda, saying she’d earned it.

Until Clint called her in. She’d always answer Clint. They had some weird bond he couldn’t understand. Maybe it was some brother/sister thing? Because he really didn’t like the idea of it being more.

Not that he was thinking about you in relationships or liking anyone or anything.

“Are you even listening, Wilson?”

He looked up, finally focusing on Y/N who had been rambling on about the mission. Oh yeah, that’s what had gotten him on that whole rant in his head. She was telling him about details of the mission that he already knew. Why did she have to treat him like an idiot? Why did she always insist on calling him by his last name? Why was he the only one she called by his last name?

“I know the mission, Y/N. Had it memorized long before Clint asked you to help me out.”

You snorted, smirking as you tucked your gun into the strap on your thigh. “Well, sorry, but staring off into space with googley eyes doesn’t exactly scream confidence in regards to a mission.”

“I did not have,” he grimaced. “Googley eyes.”

“Sure you didn’t.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes, the corner of your lips tugged into that knowing smile that he really wanted to wipe off. What was it with the people he kept meeting and their arrogance? Why couldn’t he be working with Bucky? “Look, you don’t have to like working with me. Bucky will be back from Wakanda before you know it.”

“I never thought I’d see the day I missed working with that pain in the ass.”

You laughed and, though he hated to admit it, he liked that he got that reaction out of you. When you relaxed like that, your eyes sparkled. You seemed at ease and those lines on your face, holding years of stress, actually vanished. “No one ever expects to warm up to people like Clint and Bucky. We just kinda do.”

He chuckled, adjusting the straps to his wings. “Ain’t that right?”

You watched as the hangar to the jet opened, parachute securely strapped to your back. You tightened your grip on the plane as your hair whipped around your face. He stepped just behind you, the building, their target, looking extremely small from their spot in the air. “Now, come on,” you told him, stepping forward. “I got a hot date tonight.”

He tensed as you ran off the plane, practically doing a swan dive just to show off while he gaped at your form. You had a what?

—

When they finally breached the building, slipping inside undetected, the questions started. He tried telling himself he was looking out for you. Clint would want that and, speaking of, did the arrow-shooting Avenger even know about your date? Was a background check done? What if the guy was HYDRA? What if they were some villain taking advantage and trying to gain access to records that SHIELD hadn’t lost during Natasha’s public release? What if —

What if the guy wasn’t good enough for you?

“Are you seriously going to keep badgering me with these questions?” The clear annoyance in your voice was enough to make him smirk. He liked that he got under your skin. It meant he had some sort of effect on you. Albeit, a little less positive than he would like.

Make that a couple thousand steering wheels lost to the Winter Soldier.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he had to ask all these questions. You were attractive, he admitted that. Your H/C made your E/C stand out all the more, fathomless with emotions and secrets he wouldn’t mind spending a few decades figuring out. Your skillset and determination to finish a mission had earned his respect. It wasn’t just that you were attractive. You were interesting.

“Come on, humor me,” he said as you took quick strides to the computer. He glanced back at the door, playing lookout while you stole and wiped information from their target’s computers. It was a personal request from Fury.

“He’s not a stranger. My friend just wanted to set me up on a blind date. He promised the guy was hot and who was I to turn down a meal and a decent conversation?”

“You, an agent, are going on a blind date?” He smirked. That was rich. “So what’s his last name?”

You rolled your eyes, fingers lying along the keys before you plugged in your flash-drive. “None of your business.” You were struggling not to take the bait. After all, you two hadn’t known each other outside a few rocky missions and Thanos.

His smirk turned into a grin as he leaned against the wall. “That’s not a last name.”

Huffing, you spun around and placed a hand on your hip. That fire in your eyes was back. “You have opinions on my life and my relations, but let me tell you what —“

“Okay.” He shrugged. “Enlighten me.” You faltered, biting your tongue. How could you tell the Sam Wilson, the Falcon, an Avenger and ex-partner of Captain America that you believed in fairytales? Mockingly, he asked, “Love is the one thing that has zero complications?”

Your frustration immediately molded itself into a glare. “And I can trust my gut.”

Sam outright laughed, holding up his hands. “Okay, you frighten me.”

You took a slow breath, trying to visibly relax as you turned your attention back to the computer. “Some people know their hearts the minute true love starts.”

“Some people read a lot of books,” he mocked, pushing himself off the wall. You seemed dead set on having faith that this date would turn out better than okay.

“I like books.” Running a hand through your hair, you added, “Some people simply know when true love says hello.” Wasn’t that what happened with Clint and his girl? Wasn’t that at least a possibility for you? Just some random bit of happiness?

Sam walked towards you, amused because he never would have expected you to like fairytales. He never would have thought you hoped for that. Not with your line of work. “Some folks are taken in by curly locks and princely looks,” he reminded, tugging on a strand of your hair.

You swatted his hand away, straightening and turning to face him. You wanted to make a dig, tell him something that would actually put him in his place. “He does have princely looks! We agree on that one.”

He snorted, twirling your hair around his finger as he asked, “Didn’t you say it was a blind date?”

Oops. You clenched your fist, not wanting to back down from his arrogance. “So I did a bit of digging. Doesn’t matter.”

“By the way,” he asked as you turned back to the computer. He leaned forward, his breath brushing the back of your neck and ear as he asked, “What color eyes does he have?”

You glanced up, gaze shifting just above the computer and to the wall of windows revealing the snowy mountains just outside. You jerked your elbow back, colliding with a couple ribs. He grunted, finally taking a step back as you smirked. One word. “Dreamy.”

“All I’m saying is when you go to climb a mountain, you don’t just jump to the top.” His voice was winded, weak as he tried to dull the ache in his gut. You had a pointy elbow.

“If it’s true love you can.”

Great. His partner wasn’t just hopeful. You were delusional. “There’s scalin’ and scramblin’ and too many steps for countin’. And the work doesn’t stop.” He was right. You both knew it. Eventually the honeymoon phase ended and everything in a relationship required work to last. You weren’t in denial about that detail, but with everything else in your life requiring so much work, it was nice to at least hope that a relationship might not be so chaotic.

Plus, you really just wanted to prove him wrong. “Maybe for you. Aren’t you the guy whose partners were and are the Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes? You have your own chaos and work to focus on. Stay out of mine.”

“Love’s not an easy climb, Y/N. You have to take your time.” Was that concern you heard? From Wilson of all people?

“We get a whole life.” You unplugged the flash-drive, pocketing it before getting to work on completely wiping the system. “That’s the plan.”

“That’s not a plan!” He laughed, partially from disbelief and partially because he hoped you couldn’t be completely serious. You really couldn’t be, right? “Love’s not a thing you get. It’s work and tears and sweat.”

“So says a sweaty, smelly, Avenger…man.”

“Nice insult.” He smirked before asking, “What do you know about love?”

“What do you know about love,” you snapped right back. He wasn’t just under your skin. He was burying himself, making a new home in your nerves. “Have you even kissed a girl?” He opened his mouth to answer and you smirked, looking at him as you added, “I mean a human girl.”

“Ouch.”

“Done.” The computer glitched, flashing once before becoming a blank screen of nothing. Success. “What do you know about anything?”

“Anything?” Voices down the hall made you both look behind you. Someone was coming. Your lookout had gotten a little too distracted.

“Come on.” He grabbed your arm, leading you to another door. Opening it, a gust of wind and flurry of snow collided with you both. Instantly your nose turned red and you sniffled. You hated the cold. “Anyone with half a brain would have worn some winter gear.”

You glanced back, the sound of incoming footsteps making you tense. Pushing him out the door, you followed and slammed the door shut. In front of you was a long bridge of sorts, thin railing caging you in that did next to nothing to protect from the steep drop on either side. Perhaps a quarter of a mile to your left was a similar set up, the two sides connecting with towers and bridges that seemed to create a medieval sort of square. Just inside? Soldiers training. From this height? There was no way they could see you. Not with the snow. “Anyone with half a life would have one friend who’s not a super.”

“I do!” His voice was indignant, carried by the wind as you pushed him towards the opposite side. A tall tower that gave them the opportunity to scale down and get to safety. That was their destination. That was their escape. Looking over your shoulder, he pulled out his gun and aimed it behind as you aimed it across the way. Both of you had each others backs as you crept along. “Any fool who jumps headlong is gonna bang their head,” he told you, smirking at the idea of one of those idiots trying to attack them.

But there was always one idiot.

From across the way, it seemed you had been spotted. The person had to have been enhanced. Both of you were in camouflage that would have kept you hidden from the naked eye. A siren flooded your ears, causing you to wince as you spotted them. You took your shot, your own abilities making it possible to see the snitch.

One bullet.

You pulled the trigger, your silencer muting the weapon before hearing the familiar sound of blunt force against metal. You barely had time to register that your aim was perfect. The Enhanced fell. Looking at the door you two had escaped from, you knew they were trying to get through. The problem was, their alarms had sent a trigger to bolt the door shut. It was supposed to keep Sam and you within the confines of the room.

But even the enemy’s plans could backfire.

“Any fool who doesn’t jump right now is gonna probably end up dead,” you warned, looking over the edge. Sam’s wings would be enough. At least to get to safety.

“Are you serious? You’re asking me to fly in this weather?” he asked, reading your mind.

“Not asking. Telling.” You grabbed his arm, flipping him over the rail and away from those who saw you as a target.

“Agent!” His voice was angry, indignant. Fine, lecture you later. You knew what you were doing. You leaned back against the railing, shooting the door twice. You heard metal slide, reinforcing the door because the computers thought you were attempting to escape from the inside. Sometimes tech simply couldn’t substitute for the real thing, the real eye. A person wouldn’t make that mistake.

“Time to go,” you murmur, leaning back and flipping over the icy metal. It was only a brief moment of cold air rushing against your skin before you felt a pair of hands wrap around you, catching you and pulling you into a warm chest.

Sam.

For once you were grateful for the soldier, knowing fully well that if it had been Bucky, your whole body would be freezing because of his arm. Natasha? You’d have to use a grappling hook. Same with Clint. Tony’s idea would be to have you contained in a metal suit of armor. No, Sam Wilson was, for once, a much better option than any of the other Avengers.

Well, maybe not for once.

“You okay there?” he asked, voice muffled against the wind. Or was it because your ear was pinned against his chest and his voice was more of a rumble than a muffle? He flew up and out, gaining distance.

Icy needles seemed to poke at your skin from the rush of wind and you found yourself burying your face in his chest. Not seeking his warmth, but rather protection from the elements. “I’ve been better.”

He chuckled, but you felt it more so than actually hearing it. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

“Told you to listen to me.” You looked up at him, cocky smirk in place. Oh, how he wished he could wipe that smirk off your face. “I know danger when I see it. Just like I know love when I see — Whoa!”

Sam grunted as something tore through his right wing. He jerked forward, arms slipping from around you as you fell from his grip. “Y/N!” His voice was lost in the wind as you fell, faster and faster as the wind flew around you, ramming into and knocking the wind out of you. There was no way you could avoid frostbite in conditions like this. Looking down, you squeezed your eyes shut and waited to collide with the icy rocks beneath you.

But it never came.

Instead Sam dove, flying underneath and catching you bridal style. The wind was knocked out of both of you as the force of the collision knocked you two into the snow. Sam broke your fall. Groaning, he shifted underneath you, your stomach stretched across his and his wings buried in the fluffy abomination that was the cause of your chill. Yup, snow sucked. “That’s not quite how I thought we’d end up,” you murmured, arrogance gone as you rolled off of him.

He chuckled, running a hand over his face and tearing his goggles off. “You’ve got to think things through in life.” He blinked wearily and it was then you saw how the snow had caused a sort of burn around the goggles. It must have been from the reflection coming from the sun. Everything, but the portion of his eyes that had been protected was a few shades darker. “And love.”

You laughed, moving to sit up. That was fair. You deserved that. “Touche.” You turned to face him, helping dig his wings out of the snow before you were actually able to pull him up. “Think you can fly?”

Glancing at the wings, the look on his face showed he wasn’t entirely sure. Whether you two should risk it or call for backup, he didn’t know. If they took out one wing, it was safe to say that you were stranded. After all, he couldn’t carry the both of you on a barely functioning jet pack. But you didn’t want him to feel guilty. He did his best and it was your reckless idea that had gotten his suit damaged. And he went out of his way to…

You shook your head, standing up. He followed suit and you looked around. He had managed to fly you out a couple miles before they clipped his wings. The building, similar to something like a castle, loomed through the mountains and it wouldn’t be too long before they sent scouts out looking for you. “Come on. We need to find shelter.”

“In this weather?”

“I don’t think we have a choice.”

“What about your date?”

You smiled. “I’ll reschedule.”

Walking through the snow wasn’t easy. You two had spent years in New York City, but the snow there wasn’t exactly thigh high and in the middle of a mountain. It was different, a terrain that neither of you had been entirely accustomed to. If it weren’t for Tony’s updating his jet pack, you were pretty sure it would have frozen in the temperature. Even beyond the grave that ridiculous man managed to make a difference. He was the reason you and Sam weren’t prisoners. Yet.

“Hey, we’ll get out of here,” he told you, as if hearing your thoughts.

“I know. Just a matter of actually getting help here in time.”

He followed a couple steps behind, knowing better than to argue with the concerns roaming around in your head. It was something you were positive Clint had warned him about. Sam was too much of an infuriating chatterbox to just let you deal. Your concerns were what led to solutions. You thought of possible outcomes, the good and the bad, and eventually it led to a plan that had little margin for error. All you had to do was think, allow yourself to worry and be concerned, and the plan would lay itself out for you.

After a couple hours of roaming the mountainside, you finally found a cave. Some place to rest and hopefully send out a signal for the agent flying your ride to come find you. Sam seemed to have the same idea because he ran ahead, clicking the straps of his jetpack as the two of you stepped into the damp dwelling. It was dark, a stark contrast to the overwhelming white behind you two, but neither of you complained. It allowed your eyes to rest, readjust and simple take a much needed break. Snow was too blinding, too overwhelming. Slipping the heavy contraption off his back, he set it against the wall while you shook the snow out of your hair and off your arms. Some of it had taken the time to ice over and the same went for Sam. Time had to be taken to warm both of you up or you wouldn’t last the night.

Kicking the excess snow off your shoes and knocking them against the rocky wall, you let out a small huff. You needed food, water, and a fire. This was supposed to be an in and out mission. Not something that required such necessities. Looking at the opening of the cavern, your haven of the night, you wondered how the both of you could warm up without a fire. You didn’t need the smoke.

“I’d like to point out that we’ve come a good long way here,” he told you, cutting through the wind and your thoughts. He was right. You two barely knew each other and yet here you had infiltrated the enemy with ease, not fully aware of each other’s weaknesses and strengths, survived the possibility of death, and had managed to find somewhere to at least rest for the time being.

You chuckled, telling him, “And you’re…wow, you’re really strong. It surprised me that you caught me both times.”

Feigning surprise, he clutched his chest. “And see? You’re nice.” When you rolled your eyes, he smiled. Same old Wilson. No, you caught yourself, corrected yourself, same old Sam. “That jump was really brave,” he added, surprising you. He was actually complimenting your suicidal dive?

Joking, you told him, “Your catch was quite a save.”

“Oh, I know.” Again, he was as cocky as you. Silence fell as you two stood back to back, trying to figure out your next step. He shook the snow off his boots and shoulders, wanting to keep talking. It wasn’t an argument and it wasn’t a mission. It was something else and it felt easy. “You’ve got some guts.”

You looked surprised. Another compliment? Did the snow get to his head? Did he have a concussion or something? “Thanks. You’ve got some…” What could she tell him? Lamely, she finally muttered, “Brains.”

He laughed, nodding because he understood it was weird for you. It was just as weird for him. No one liked learning about their partner on the go. “Come on, we’re soaked. Get out of the jacket before you freeze to death.” You didn’t really get to argue because he was already following his own instructions. As he did, he took long, slow strides to the back of the cave. The farther from the wind, the warmer it got. It was never actually anything other than cold, but it was better than the chilling wind that kissed the entrance of the cave over and over again.

So, you decided he might have a good idea this time around. Taking off the jacket, you unzipped one of the many pockets it had and pulled out a small blanket. Now that it wasn’t in a confined space, the nanotech within the fabric allowed the creation to expand. It wasn’t thick, but it was something dry and usable. He was already sitting at the very back, leaning against the wall. You crouched next to him and he instinctively raised a hand, wrapping it around your shoulders as you laid the material over four shivering legs. Nothing about this screamed sexual or romantic, but rather a need to rely on each other’s body warmth. You curled into his side, resting your head on his chest, just above his heartbeat while he absentmindedly traced your arm. Goosebumps followed in his wake, but you weren’t cold. It was actually relaxing instead.

“With miles and miles to go,” he murmured, resting his chin on the top of your head. You could hear it in his voice, he was tired. He was trying to find the words before sleep took over. “I guess it’s nice to know —“

You seemed to read his mind, voicing with him, “That I can trust you.”

He chuckled, liking that you understood him so well. “Though the question still remains.” Oh, here it comes. Another insult cooked up in that wild imagination of his. “What do you know about love?” You laughed, shaking your head as he shifted so that his cheek was resting on your head. It was more comfortable for both of you. Like your elbow, his chin was rather bony. “Just be careful on that date.”

You snorted, crossing your legs over his as your eyes slowly closed. “Have a little faith, hm?” Voice soft, barely above a murmur, “At least we know one thing.”

He nudged you with the arm that seemed to provide a blanket for your shoulders. “What’s that?” Whether he was actually able to listen or not, you didn’t know. He sounded more asleep than awake, but interest still peaked his voice.

“This trip was interesting.”

Silence. No chuckle, no nudge, and you found yourself worried. That is, until you heard the snore that rumbled through his chest and out his nose. Biting your lip to stifle a laugh, you shook your head. It was definitely interesting indeed. Leaning back, you allowed your aching limbs to relax against him. Both of you needed to sleep and the confines of the cave proved safe enough. When you woke again, then you’d focus on help, but for know? Just one thought drifted through your mind as sleep tugged at your subconscious.

What do you really know about love?

#sam wilson #samwilson #avengers #marvel #imagine #fluff #sam x y/n #sam x you #romance #whatdoyouknow #what do you know #frozen #mission #missiongonewrong #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x reader #avengers x y/n #song lyrics #songfic

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queen-scribbles · 5 years

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Ritual

@pillarspromptsweekly fill 94: In Memorium. I wound up using Charity, since I”ve already done a similar fic for Tavi, and Emiri doesn’t really remember her family enough. Plus, y’know, I’m still giddy I get to write married!Ederity, even if it’s a less fluffy subject than usual.

-----------------------------

She wished she could forget what today was.

But considering she was awake hours before sunrise and it was already all she could think about, Charity didn’t figure there were good odds on forgetting. Maybe that was a good thing, she mused, rubbing her face with one hand. Guilt still prickled, much like the tingling in the arm trapped under her sleeping husband, even years later.

She needed to pray. And while she wasn’t really worried about waking Edér--the man slept like a log--she did want to do so alone. So she gently extricated her arm from under him and rolled out of bed. Her hair went up in a hasty bun, messy and likely full of knots, and she pulled on the first clothes she could reach. No shoes; it was still warm enough and it felt right to be barefoot for this.

Sparrow mroawed softly, twining between her ankles, and Charity picked her up. “You wanna come with me?”

Mrrrrrr

“Well, alright. But you’ll have to stay away from the candles.” Cat in hand, Charity slipped from the bedroom and padded out to the chapel.

-o- -o- -o-

She sat there for hours, the ache in her chest steadily growing the more the sky tinged pink and gold with approaching dawn. Losing a sister was bad enough. Feeling responsible for that loss kept the pain fresh significantly longer. Charity leaned forward to confirm the sun was fully over the horizon.

She hugged her knees into her chest, vaguely felt the aches that came with sitting on the floor, and pulled in a shaky breath. It was time.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, throat already tight. “Sorry I couldn’t help, sorry I didn’t know more.” Just like every year, the memory of rattling, labored breaths going harshly, abruptly silent pressed in, sharp as if it had been yesterday. “I hope...” She sniffled, wiped her nose on her sleeve as her eyes burned. “I hope, if the Wheel’s made ya someone new by now, that you’re happy. I hope Berath granted you that kindness after takin’ you so young.” Damn blight.

Sparrow chose that moment to slink under Charity’s tented knees and headbutt her hand, as if she could sense her distress. Charity smiled faintly and scritched between her calico’s ears. Satisfied she’d done her part, Sparrow laid down, tail lazily curling and uncurling in the sunlight stripes decorating the floor.

Grateful as she was for her cat’s intervention, the melancholy still lingered. If this year followed the pattern, that ache would stay til she went to bed. After seventeen years, she was used to it. Few more minutes, then I go about my day... She had a lot to do, and while it wouldn’t entirely distract her, it would help.

The chapel door creaked softly as it opened--they’d need to fix that before it got too cold--and the muted sound of booted footsteps carried someone closer.

“Char?” The concern in Edér’s voice was obvious. “What’s wrong?”

She tried to surreptitiously wipe her eyes before he reached her so he didn’t get the wrong idea. “Nothin’s really wrong....”

He scoffed quietly. “Am I really s’pposed to believe that when you’re sittin’ on the chapel floor barefoot an’ lookin’ like you been cryin’ this early in the mornin’?”

He had a point. “It’s not...” How did she explain this little ritual of hers? “It’s an old wound that hurts worse one day a year.”

Edér chuckled and offered her his hand. “Got a couple of those m’self, darlin’. Whenever you’re ready to stop bein’ cryptic, I’m here for ya.”

Another good point. He was just full of them this morning. Charity smiled wryly as she accepted the hand up. If she could be open with anyone about this, it would be him. She let him haul her upright, careful not to step on Sparrow, and leaned instinctively into the hug she knew he was going to offer. “’Member my sister?”

His breath caught and the hand rubbing her back paused ever so briefly. “Is this...?”

She nodded against his shirt. “The anniversary. Yeah.”

Edér was quiet for a long moment, just holding her and rubbing her back. “...You wanna talk about her?”

That’s never been part of the ritual, a piece of her immediately protested. But she’d never been married for this day, either. Things changed. She nodded against his shirt again, and Edér gently tugged her toward a proper seat.

“Alright, then,” he said encouragingly. “What was her name? What was she like?”

“Saela,” Charity replied with a shaky smile. One hand reached for her necklace, zipping the pendent back and forth on the chain. “She was outgoing and adventurous and always so, so happy.” She snorted softly. “Our parents named her well. She liked to stick fight with the boy next door, wore trousers under her dresses, ‘cause she liked dresses but they didn’t work so well for climbin’ trees an’ such. Ma used to say she had a smile so sunny it must’ve been blessed by Eothas himself.”

“Sounds like a good kid,” Edér commented, reaching for her hand to intertwine their fingers.

“She also hated vegetable,” Charity said with a laugh. She hadn’t talked about Saela in ages. It felt good to share stories with someone. “Which I guess is normal. An’ fruit, which is less normal. Our mom had to get really tricky for her to eat anything with either in it. And she sometimes would wander off to have adventures when she was s’pposed to be helpin’ Papa with the vorlas.” Not for the first time, the thought floated through her mind: Maybe if she’d had more adventures and picked less vorlas she’d still be alive. She squeezed Edér’s hand appreciatively. “I use’ta get so mad at her for that, ‘cause the worst she ever got was a scoldin’ no mater how many times she did it. ‘Course when she got sick I found myself wishin’ she’d run off one more time; maybe if she hadn’t been around s’much vorlas she wouldn’t’ve caught the... the sickness.”

Edér winced. “Effigy’s eyes, Char, she got that?” He pulled her closer to wrap his other arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry, darlin’. We heard about that... plague or whatever you’d call it, down here. Sounded blazin’ nasty.”

“It was,” she said softly. “An’ see, I’d been apprenticin’ with this traveling healer who would visit smaller towns for a stretch t’ help with ailments an’ injuries an’ such, but he’d moved on when that swept through. So there I was, fourteen years old, an’ scramblin’ to help my baby sister with two measly years of apprenticeship under my belt. I knew how to treat symptoms; what to brew as a tea t’ help her breathing, or what would dull aches an’ soothe her fever. But I didn’t know how to treat the root of it ‘sides pray and hope for a blazin’ miracle.” She sniffled at the memory, curled in closer to Edér’s side. “So all I could do for Saela was make her comfortable and sit there. Watch her get weaker and weaker, listen to her cough get worse and worse ‘til she could barely breathe.

“That last night, I think part of me knew.” He voice went flat; reciting facts she wanted to share with him but gating off emotions that still hurt. “I was so tired I could barely keep my eyes open, but somethin’ wouldn’t let me sleep. I tried everything one last time. Prayer, every medicinal concoction I knew that might help... but none of it did.” She had to compose herself as the memory of that horrible frozen moment of silence hit, the sluggish heartbeats before Ma wailed and Papa cursed and her family plunged headlong into the darkest year of their lives. Edér, bless him, didn’t rush her. “So every year I sit that last vigil to remember her. To pray that if she’s done her turn on the Wheel, whoever she is now is happy. And to... apologize.”

“What for?” Edér protested, indignant on her behalf. “That blight was th’ worst thing to hit this side a’ the ocean for the past hundred years. From what I heard, healers an’ priests with decades of practice under their belts couldn’t always cure it. Whadda you have to apologize for?”

Charity shrugged. “She was my sister and she died. The lady next farm over came down with it, too, and I gave her son some advice which I guess he used an’ she pulled through. But not Saela. Couldn’t... couldn’t save her.” Her thumb rubbed futilely across her palm, missing the long-lost worry stone that had served as a reminder of her sister. The words had come out more bitter and woeful than she really felt, but this day was always hard on her nerves. “I know it ain’t really my fault, but...” She sighed and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I think it’s only natural for kith to blame ourselves for things like that.”

“True,” Edér conceded, his thumb absently rubbing over her knuckles. “Gods know how many damn times I’ve wondered what mighta been different if I’d gone with Woden. Maybe nothin’. Maybe he’d still be alive. Maybe I’d be dead, too.”

“Well, I’m glad that didn’t happen,” Charity said lightly, trying to fight the deep-seated melancholy.

Edér chuckled. “So’m I. Missin’ ‘em’s all well and good, wonderin’ a little’s no harm, just don’t wallow in it.” He kissed her temple. “That don’t lead nowhere good.”

Trust him to worry about her. It made her smile, just a little. “I know,” she promised. “No wallowing, trust me. It’s just hard losing family, and that never goes completely away.”

“Is that why you made yourself so busy today? I know you’ve got a lot on your plate.”

“You’re smarter’n you look,” Charity teased, which earned a mild ‘hey now’ of protest from her husband. “That’s exactly why. And speakin’ of my schedule, we better go eat breakfast if we wanna have it together before I get to things. An’ don’t you need to get to wok?”

“Now that I’m sure everything’s alright--so to speak--with my wife, I prob’ly should,” he acknowledged with a laugh. “But breakfast first.”

“Breakfast first,” Charity agreed, stealing a kiss before she pushed to her feet.

Edér stood as well, wrapping his arm around her shoulders again as they headed back to the house. Charity found herself silently leaning into the support he offered. She might not be able to forget what today was, but having him to lean on would make it easier to handle.

------------------------

Saela is a Nordic name that should be pronounced “Sy-lah”(rhymes with Lila), but I think with Eoran pronunciation rules it would be said “Say-lah”, so whichever of the two you pick is fine, I guess. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It means happiness or bliss, to go with Charity’s birth name of Jara(should be said “Yara”) which means honeycomb or spring. Clearly their parents were very happy in Readceras.

#queens fic #pillars prompts weekly #charity #eder teylecg #otp: brighter than the sun #eothasian idiots #ederity

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mindframe64-blog · 5 years

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Bill Pickett Invitational Rodeo provides rare glimpse at African American cowboys, cowgirls

Barbara Love is the local organizer for the Bill Pickett Invitational Rodeo – but she's better known as "Miss Kitty," pictured here in a TSD file photo with her horse Silver.

(Photo: Marvin Kelly)

By Lee Eric Smith, The New Tri-State Defender [email protected]

The Bill Pickett Invitational Rodeo saddles up at Agricenter International this weekend, showcasing some of America’s top African-American cowboys and cowgirls. And if you thought black folk don’t go to rodeos, let alone ride bulls and rope calves in them, you’re in for a treat – and a history lesson.

Long before #OscarsSoWhite became a thing, Barbara Love knew something was off. Like a lot of people, she grew up watching Westerns on TV and at the theatres. It was who she didn’t see that caught her attention.

“It fascinated me because television glorified the cowboy,” said Love, better known as “Miss Kitty” on the rodeo circuit. “I grew up on John Wayne, Gary Cooper and Henry Fonda. And I thought, ‘My great-grandfather ran a livery stable in Alabama.”

(Photo: Marvin Kelly)

“Why is it that all the cowboys are white?” she asked.

Of course, there were plenty of black cowboys. Cowgirls, too. Many of their names are forever lost to history, but one name still stands tall: William Pickett.

Born near Austin, Texas in 1870, Pickett’s list of accomplishments belongs in history books – he invented the “grab-‘em-by-the-horns” style of bull wrestling called bulldogging. He performed around the world, became the first black cowboy movie star and performed for the British Royal Family.

Picket died in 1932. And although he was enshrined in multiple halls of fame, it wasn’t until 1984 that a cowboy named Lu Vason launched the Bill Pickett Rodeo to pay homage to the iconic figure. Unfortunately, even in the 1980s, America needed a black rodeo for the same reasons Pickett never got the universal appreciation he deserved.

Miss Kitty with horse

“White rodeos really weren’t open to us,” Miss Kitty said. “Either black cowboys weren’t invited, or they weren’t scored fairly. That’s just how it was.”

These days, the Bill Pickett Invitational Rodeo is the world’s only African American touring rodeo, bringing joy to sell-out crowds across America. Other than Memphis, additional rodeo stops include Denver, Los Angeles, Atlanta, Washington, D.C., and Trenton, N.J.

After Lu Vason became ill and passed away, his then-wife Valeria took over the rodeo operations to continue his legacy. Under the leadership of Valeria Howard Cunningham, the rodeo has continued to thrive. You read that right: In an industry dominated by white males who typically scoff at women and/or people of color, a black woman is running the show.

That brings us to how Barbara Love, the Memphis coordinator for the Pickett Rodeo, came to be known as “Miss Kitty.” In the extra-macho world of rodeos, the name started as a sexist jab, the retired teacher said.

Barrel Racer (Photo by Ed Miller)

“It was from ‘Gunsmoke,’” Miss Kitty said, referring to the classic TV western. “There was only one woman on the show – Miss Kitty. And often, I was the only woman at these rodeos. So, people started calling me that. I hated it.”

That only added fuel to the fire, she continued.

“I used to cry,” she added. “And when people find out something like that bothers you, that’s when they really pick at you.”

Stuck with a nickname she hated, she adapted and made it work for her.

“It spread like wildfire to the point where I just had to go on and accept it,” Miss Kitty said. “If I was trying to call (the Mayor’s office) and used my real name, they were like, ‘Who?’ But when I said, ‘Miss Kitty,’ they knew who I was.

Bull Rider (Photo by Ed Miller)

“I didn’t name me that,” she said. “Memphis named me that.”

For 28 years, Miss Kitty has brought the Bill Pickett Rodeo to Memphis, and she’s always made sure to mix education in with entertainment. Rodeo events routinely include the “Rodeo for Kidz Sake,” which exposes youngsters to animals, cowboys and cowgirls. “The kids show (In Memphis) is sold out. I could have done two kids shows this year,” she said.

The rodeo experience teaches the kids about the importance of Black Americans in the development of the West.

“When I started working with rodeos, I had to dig to find information about the Buffalo Soliders,” Miss Kitty said, referring to the historic. “Nobody knew about them. We’re creating an awareness about this history.”

Bareback Rider (Photo:Ccyril Bailleul)

The main event – playfully named “The Greatest Show on Dirt” — is the rodeo itself. Thousands of spectators gather to watch black cowboys and cowgirls compete in eight major rodeo events. Among them (abbreviations intact): Bare Back Ridin’, Bull Doggin’, Calf Ropin’, Steer Undecoratin’, Barrel Racin’, Kid’s Calf Scramblin’, Relay Racin’, and Bull Ridin’.

“Nobody ever leaves disappointed,” she said.

Miss Kitty said that though she extends invitations to schools all around the Mid-South, the only schools to respond are typically in Memphis and Shelby County. Which is a shame, she said.

“You can’t force somebody to participate,” Miss Kitty said. “All you can do is invite them. “I don’t understand why little white children don’t get to learn about this history.”

Source: https://www.blackpressusa.com/bill-pickett-invitational-rodeo-provides-rare-glimpse-at-african-american-cowboys-cowgirls/

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