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artdcnaldson · 6 months ago

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i do a lot of maladaptive daydreaming so i feel like a lot of the things i want to send are too elaborate to subject you to also idk how to write a prompt but i've been thinking thoughts about dodge mason...

and competing against him in bronc riding events. you've just moved to the area and you're good. impressively, frustratingly good. he's heard the old heads murmur about you: 18 years old, feisty little thing, giving some of these seasoned professionals a real run for their money.

dodge doesn't feel intimidated by you—so what if you've won a few local competitions? he's the best in the county. the state, even. he's humble about it, of course, but he's starting to run out of room on his trophy shelves.

obviously, he's curious though. anyone would be. so he drives to a competition out of town. he’s casual about it, dressed in a black tshirt and jeans, lingers in the back of the crowd, hands in his pockets. he doesn’t know who to look for—no one ever mentioned your name or any physical characteristics (the latter is a bit shocking, really. you must be really damn good for the rodeo chauvinists to speak only on your skill).

he figures it out the second he sees you on a horse. there’s something enchanting about the way you ride: graceful and confident, your pigtail braids flying through the air as the horse tries to buck you off of its back, a pearly grin on your face. you brush yourself off when you jump to the ground. you walk back around the gate and he finds himself making quite the effort not to stare while you shuck off your vest and remove your mouthguard. he’s not doing a great job, though. you finally catch him staring, his gaze way more intense than he probably intended. you cock your head and offer him an awkward smile and a small wave.

he swallows when he realizes you’re approaching him. he was hoping you might’ve been walking toward the people behind him or making your way to the bleachers, but your eyes are locked with his as you stride toward him, kicking up dust with your bedazzled cowboy boots. he scans his eyes over your body—with the intention of sizing up the competition. Not to check you out.

if he were checking you out though, the way your jeans hug your figure would make him sweat. you unbutton your shirt as you walk, the front panels falling away to reveal a dainty little tank top. your chest gleams with sweat and a shiny charm necklace bounces between your breasts. your cheeks, kissed by the sun, burn brighter with the exertion of the ride. you have to tilt your head back to keep eye contact with him. his mouth feels dry.

“you’re dodge mason. you hold the county record,” you hold out a tiny hand and smile, warmer this time. he takes your hand and nods, wracking his brain for a better response. he’d always been a bit frugal with words, especially around strangers. he was a thinker. conversational skills were never a priority of his.

however, there wasn’t much thought behind the “uh, yeah,” he finally offers. he scrunches his nose a bit at his own response. you wait a beat to make room for another sentence. he nods again and manages to add, “state too.” you pull your hand away. the third smile you give him is harder to read.

rodeo is full of needle-dicked assholes. drunk on machismo, their egos enter the room before they do. you’ve met your fair share; they huff and puff and grumble obscenities when you beat them. you think dodge seems like one of them. you purse your lips and nod to yourself.

“well, i just came over here to tell you that i’m coming for your records. i thought i’d be kind and warn you so you can prepare yourself to lose. most men don’t take too kindly to it,” you don’t give him any time to respond before you turn on your heel and walk away. he shoves his hands in his pockets and watches you go. he looks down at the ground where you stood and smiles to himself. huh.

OOOOUUUGHGHGHHHH DODGE MASON IN MY INBOX <3 Also I'm a maladaptive daydreamer as well <3 twins <3

And he watches you at the next rodeo— not just during your event, but always. The way you offer smiles like it's nothing, how your clothes always sparkle in the Texas sun— bedazzled across the pockets of your jeans, sparkly rhinestoned cowboy boots, across your tits on your tanktop. It's like you know people are going to look at you, so you might as well give them something fun to see.

He must look like a fucking creep to everyone else— lingering and leering. You crouch down to talk to a little girl who was watching your event, smiling brightly, all sweet and friendly. The little girl hands you a horse plushie, which you try to refuse, but ultimately walk away with. You're nice to everyone you meet... until you spot Dodge.

"Are you stalking me?" The plush is still tucked safely in your arms as you look up at him, and he finds himself uncomfortably nervous to try his hand at conversation.

Dodge blanches, a bit. "No, I'm not st—" He swallows hard, tries to deflect. He had been spending his day following you around, kind of. "You nearly beat the county record."

His county record. You nod, mouth twisted to the side as you look at him. "Mhmm." You glance past him. "Did you need something?"

"Uh... no. Just wanted to tell you I was impressed."

It's meant to be a compliment, an olive branch to soothe... whatever it was that he had fucked up during that first conversation. Instead, your brows knit, and you scoff. "Oh, well, thank you, Dodge Mason. What would a girl like me do without your approval?"

You've heard all about Dodge. Well, rumors mostly. He didn't play well with others— unless they were buckle bunnies lingering around after his events. He wasn't there to make friends, or whatever. Which is fine. You didn't need to be friends with an egotistical, narcissistic dickhead, and you certainly weren't going to give him the satisfaction of letting him fuck you.

Even if he was incredibly talented, and attractive, and his cologne smelled really nice after being surrounded by horses and mud and sweat all afternoon.

"I think a girl like you would be just fine," he says, and you want to scowl at the flutter of something in the pit of your stomach. "Congratulations on the win."

He's competing in the next Rodeo you're at. You watch his event, eyes wide, almost mesmerized by his skill. He's not just good, he's effortless out there. He spots you, tips his hat, and you swear you feel the angry glares of five pretty girls all vying for his affection.

#NEED HIM NEED HIM NEED HIM #dodge mason #more dodge incoming i have smth in the drafts <3

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venactricisfics · 18 days ago

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Bucking Tradition: A Yellowstone Fanfic

Chapter Six

This chapter buts us right up to the start of the series. So will start seeing some overlap in future chapters. Let me know what you think.

The days following my big win were a whirlwind of calls and congratulations. Kayce was the first. He shared his pride in me, and we talked about how big Tate was getting. I promised to visit them again when I got back—though I wasn’t sure when that would be. Jamie and Lee both called, their voices filled with pride. Even Beth reached out, which was a surprise in itself.

But Dad didn’t call.

Days turned into weeks, and the silence from him grew heavier. I knew why. I had defied him, and this was the price I’d pay. Disobedience in the Dutton family didn’t come without consequences. Now, I didn’t even know if I could go back home—or if I’d be welcomed there at all.

I supposed I could call him, apologize, and promise never to disobey again. But that wasn’t me. I wasn’t the kind of girl to go running back, desperate for Daddy’s approval. That part of me had long since burned away. I had arenas full of people screaming my name now, cheering for what I could do. But no matter how loud the applause, it didn’t fill the same void.

And then there was Ryan.

Not being able to go home also meant not seeing him. We talked on the phone nearly every day, his voice a bittersweet lifeline. But we hadn’t made any promises. I had no claim over him, and he had no obligation to wait for me. Hell, he’d never even said the words back.

I didn’t regret telling him how I felt. Still, the ache of not seeing him grew sharper with every mile that stretched between us.

Travis stuck with me on the circuit for the first few months, but eventually, he had to head back to Texas. That left me alone—or at least without anyone, I could fully depend on.

I ended up befriending a barrel racer named Laramie. She was a few years younger than me but could ride circles around most of the competition. She was also a magnet for cowboys, charming them left and right. Laramie reminded me of my sister, Beth—if Beth hadn’t carried the weight of our mother’s loss. Laramie had a lightness about her, a carefree spirit Beth lost long ago.

“Hey, girl,” Laramie called, poking her head into my trailer. “Some of the guys want to take us out for a few beers. You can’t stay cooped up all the time.”

I let out a sigh. I’d passed on so many nights out, I couldn’t say no again. People were starting to talk, giving me looks that suggested I thought I was better than them.

“Okay,” I said, pulling on a clean shirt. “But don’t expect me to bring one of them back here with me.”

“I know, I know,” she teased, grinning as she leaned against the doorframe. “You’ve got your cowboy back home. But, Alex, you’ve gotta loosen up. You’re too young to be tied down.”

Her words stung more than I let on. She wasn’t wrong—I was young. And Ryan and I hadn’t made any promises. We hadn’t even said I love you to each other. Well, I had, but he hadn’t said it back. It wasn’t that I doubted his feelings; he showed me in other ways. But the longer I stayed on the road, the more those doubts crept in.

I missed him—his quiet strength, the way he smiled just for me, the feel of his arms wrapped around me. But what if being apart changed things? What if the distance made him realize I wasn’t worth waiting for?

“Earth to Alex,” Laramie said, waving a hand in front of my face. “You coming, or what?”

I forced a smile and grabbed my jacket. “Yeah, I’m coming. Let’s go.”

Maybe a night out would take my mind off everything, even if it was just for a little while.

I was having fun, well the most fun I’d had outside of the arena in a while. I laughed and drank a few beers. I beat one of the bronc riders at a game of pool. Though he may have let me win, I watched him more than once look down the front of my shirt as I leaned over to make a shot.

“Let’s get a picture for the gram,” Laramie said as she ushered us to squeeze together so she could snap our picture. The bronc rider placed his arm around my waist and his hand rested on my hip. I stepped away from him as soon as she snapped the photo.

“I don’t want to give you the wrong idea,” I told him, “I have someone.” That was sort of true. It was too complicated to really get into now.

“That’s alright,” he smiled, “I gotta wife back home too. But she ain’t here.”

“Well, I’m not interested, whether he’s here or not,” my words were sharp.

“Can’t fault a guy for trying,” his eyes scan me over, “suit yourself.”

I didn’t dignify that with a response. I leaned over and whispered in Laramie’s ear that I was ready to go back. Gave her an excuse about needing to train first thing in the morning.

Laramie frowned, her eyes darting between me and the bronc rider before nodding reluctantly. "Alright, let me finish this drink, and I’ll walk out with you."

I could feel the bronc rider’s gaze lingering as I stepped back, pulling on my jacket. My stomach churned—not from the beer, but from the way he so easily dismissed his vows. It reminded me of all the reasons I kept my guard up in places like this.

Laramie drained her glass and looped her arm through mine as we headed for the door. "You okay?" she asked, her tone softer than usual.

I shrugged, trying to shake it off. "Yeah, just not in the mood for... that tonight."

She nodded, but I could see the curiosity in her eyes. I was grateful she didn’t press further. The night air hit us as we stepped outside, and I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head.

As we walked toward the trailer park, Laramie gave me a playful nudge. "You know, you don’t always have to be the good girl, Alex. A little fun won’t kill you."

I laughed softly, though it didn’t reach my eyes. "I’m not looking for fun, Laramie. Not that kind, anyway."

Her smile faded slightly, and she gave me a sideways glance. "Still hung up on your cowboy back home?"

I didn’t answer right away. The truth was, I didn’t know if I was hung up or just hopeful. I still hadn’t heard those words from him, and part of me wondered if I ever would.

"Something like that," I finally said.

We walked in silence the rest of the way, but my mind was loud, replaying the night’s events and wondering if Ryan would even care enough to be jealous—or if he’d just let me go.

—--

The early morning training session wasn’t a lie, I rode Denim around the training yard for over an hour. I had to get there before the barrel racers set up to train. After hopping down and leading Denim to his stall I pulled my phone from my bag.

127 missed notifications. All from Instagram. All on that stupid picture Laramie uploaded. The one she tagged “Rodeo dreams and poolside scheming!”

My stomach dropped as I scrolled through the notifications. The photo Laramie had posted wasn’t bad by itself—just me, her, and a few others from last night squeezed together. But it was the comments that sent my heart racing.

"Looks like somebody’s having fun without her cowboy. 👀" "Watch out, Alex. That bronc rider’s trouble. 😂" "Guess the guy back home doesn’t matter on the road, huh?"

I closed the app and leaned against the stall door, trying to calm the sudden tightness in my chest. It wasn’t true—none of it was—but the picture and the comments painted a different story. One I wasn’t sure Ryan would believe.

Before I could think it through, my phone buzzed with a call. Ryan.

I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the accept button. I took a deep breath and answered.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Alex,” his tone was clipped, “you got a second to explain what’s going on?”

I winced. Of course, he’d seen it. “It’s nothing, Ryan. Just a stupid picture. Laramie wanted to post something, and I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Yeah, but that guy—”

“Means nothing,” I cut him off. “I told him I wasn’t interested. End of story.”

There was silence on the other end for a beat too long. “I want to believe you,” he finally said, his voice softer, “but it’s hard when I see stuff like that.”

“It’s not fair, Ryan,” I said, frustration bubbling up. “I’m out here chasing my dream, and I’m doing it alone. I’m not running around or screwing up. I’m just... trying to make this work.”

He sighed heavily. “I know. It’s just—seeing that picture... I don’t know, Alex.”

“Then trust me,” I said firmly. “Because that’s all I’ve got to give you right now.”

Another long pause. “Alright,” he said, though it sounded more like a concession than agreement. “I’ll trust you. Just... be careful, okay?”

“I will,” I promised.

But as I hung up, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between us—and not for the better.

—-

Eighteen months. It felt like both a lifetime and a blur. The rodeo circuit had become my world—early mornings, late nights, and the endless hum of the road in between. I’d built a name for myself, with wins stacking up and sponsors taking notice. But success came at a cost.

Ryan’s calls had dwindled to almost nothing. At first, I told myself it was just the distance, the busyness of his life on the ranch. But as the weeks stretched into months, I couldn’t ignore the growing void.

I stared at my phone, scrolling through old messages, rereading his words. “I miss you.” “Wish you were here.” But the most recent texts lacked the warmth they once held, reduced to short replies that left me feeling colder than the empty hotel rooms I stayed in.

I’d tried to call him yesterday—straight to voicemail. I told myself he’d get back to me when he could. That he still cared. But the silence was louder than any cheering crowd I’d performed for.

My chest tightened as I shoved the phone back into my bag. The next stop on the circuit loomed ahead, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like enough. Winning didn’t fill the ache. The roar of the crowd didn’t drown out the nagging question:

What if I’d lost more than just time on this journey? What if I’d lost him?

I checked my horses and loaded them into the trailer, preparing them for the next stop, when my phone rang. It was Kayce.

“Hey Alex,” he said, “how’s things?”

“They’re going good. Levis sponsored my last leg of the circuit, so I’ll get some free jeans, too. They want me to model them,” I rolled my eyes, remembering all the girls modeling jeans photos the guys in the bunkhouse tried to hide when I came in.

“That’s awesome,” he said, I could hear the worry in his voice, “Dad wants to get to know Tate.”

“What does Monica think about it?” I asked.

“She’s nervous about it but knows that family is important,” he responded. “That’s why I called. I don’t know if I could face going back to the ranch if you weren’t there.”

“Lee and Jamie are there, you don’t need me,” I was just as nervous as he was about going home again. We both defied our father and had to face the wrath of that.

“It’s not the same,” he said, “I understand if you’re not ready to face him again. Just like everything else we can do it together.”

I felt a lump form in my throat as Kayce’s words sank in. His understanding, his willingness to support me, meant more than he could possibly know. I wasn’t ready to go back yet.

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready to face him,” I admitted quietly. “But… if you can face him after what happened, maybe I can try. For you. For Tate.”

Kayce’s relief was palpable over the line. “You don’t have to do it for me, Alex. Just know that when you’re ready, we’ll be here.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking in the weight of his words. “Thanks, Kayce.”

“Anytime, sis,” he replied, the love in his voice clear.

As I sat in the truck, the road ahead felt a little less lonely and I was going home soon. I wasn’t sure if I could call it that anymore but I didn’t know anything else.

I was ready for a break, to settle back into the normalcy of ranch life. Even if it did mean I’d have to face my father. I felt my heart in my throat when I crossed the threshold of my father’s ranch. I was nervous and excited. I missed my brothers and even Beth. I pulled my truck and trailer up to the barn.

“Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes?” Lloyd spoke. The old ranch hand always made me smile.

“Hey, Lloyd,” I said, stepping out of the truck with a grin. “Miss me?”

“Every damn day,” he said, his weathered face breaking into a smile. “Figured you’d be too busy winnin’ to remember us lowly ranch folk.”

I laughed, the tension in my chest easing a bit. “Never too busy for this place. Or for you.”

Lloyd looked me over, his sharp eyes catching everything. “You look good, kid. Different, but good. Rodeo life suits you?”

“It has its ups and downs,” I admitted, glancing at my horses in the trailer. “But I needed to be back. Even if it’s just for a while.”

“Well, you picked a hell of a time,” Lloyd said, his tone turning a bit more serious. “Your dad’s been in a mood lately. Had an accident. He’s alright just you know. Don’t let it get to you, alright?”

“I’ll try,” I said, though my stomach twisted at the thought of facing my father. “How are my brothers?”

“Still breathin’,” he said with a wink. “Jamie’s buried in paperwork, and Beth’s... well, Beth.”

That made me laugh despite myself. “Sounds about right. Kayce here yet?”

Lloyd patted my shoulder. “I ain’t seen him yet. Why don’t you go get settled? I’ll make sure your horses are taken care of.”

“Thanks, Lloyd,” I said, grateful for the familiar kindness.

As I walked toward the house, each step felt heavier. The ranch hadn’t changed much, but I had. I just hoped I’d find a place here again.

#yellowstone fanfiction #ryan yellowstone #ryan x oc yellowstone

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dashforkash · 29 days ago

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ABOUT

Name: Kaden "Kash" Daniels Age: 37 Gender & Pronouns: Cismale & he/him Occupation: Day Hand at Matacuna Feeders Affiliation and Position: Neutral

Quote: “When the misery is bad enough, tomorrow is rarely factored into decisions.”

BIOGRAPHY

Triggers: child loss mention, death mention, drug abuse mention

Born in Tennessee Kaden Daniels was raised along the banks of the Mississippi mud, never given a chance to be anything but the down-home country boy, which had always suited Kaden just fine. His daddy was a colt starter and former rodeo champion, having won national titles for roping and reining. From the moment Kaden could waddle he was following his daddy around everywhere, at first just watching as his father worked and as he got older helping with the chores himself. He found that spending time tending to the many horses was cathartic and volunteered for just about any chore that would get him around them. Never once did he need to be asked to pitch in to do what was needed at the family ranch, from picking vegetables in the garden for his mama to helping his daddy check the cattle fences. As far as most childhoods go, his was pretty perfect. Sure, sometimes his dad drank too much and sometimes his mom just would not stop fussing over him, but he had no cause to complain.

His father, seeing his boy take an interest in horses at such a young age decided to help Kaden begin to follow in his footsteps. As a kid he enrolled Kaden in the pee-wee portion of rodeos where his wife would take pictures of the young boy struggling to stay on the back of a wildly running sheep, but in the end, he stayed on. He almost always did. With natural talent like that his father was quick to get his son started on the path to becoming a bull-rider. His mama threw fits and got into fights with his daddy, it was too dangerous, he could be hurt, killed even, but as he got older and started to have a mind of his own there was nothing that he wanted to do more. So he practiced, and practiced. By sixteen he was competing on broncs, a safer alternative to the bull, and was cleaning up at junior rodeos, his room becoming full of belt buckles, the tack room full of all the special made trophy tack he had won. But being bucked was far from his only talent. At age ten he broke his very first colt and at twelve he was winning local roping competitions. He even became adept at helping his dad sort and catch cattle, something he was never fond of but did anyways as it was expected of him. Despite how it sounds, his childhood wasn’t all work. While never the best in school he managed to get passing marks and had a group of boys he roughhoused and fucked around with who were constantly getting him into trouble as a teenager.

Fast forward a few years and he was one of the hottest young bull riders to hit the circuit. But his career as a rider didn’t last as long as anyone would have hoped. The reason? He fell in love. Some would have called the pretty woman he fell in love with a buckle bunny, what with her affinity of dating all the big rodeo stars, but when him and her spent one night together the rest was history. Now twenty-two and married with a baby on the way, Kaden knew he could not be as pell mell as he had been for the past few years. He now had a family to think about; and so, he quit bull riding and switched exclusively to broncs. It was still dangerous, but the risks less than if he was on the back of a bull. Life went on and for the most part the little family was happy, until tragedy struck. On the night of his twenty-eighth birthday, with his wife and little girl in the stands, he overtightened the strap around his hand. At first everything seemed to be going well, he had one of his best times, but as he threw himself off the bucking bronco his hand caught. It was an instant disaster. The animal began to panic, bucking harder and higher, with Kaden hanging on for dear life. His only blessing was that the first hoof to his head knocked him out cold. He was rammed into the side of the fence and drug for minutes before those in charge of wrangling the horse were finally able to calm it down. In the midst of the chaos, his wife, fretting over her husband, had not noticed her daughter slip down through the stands calling out for her daddy. No one noticed her presence in the ring until it was too late. All it took was one wrong move from the frightened animal and the sunshine of Kaden’s life was no more.

The blow to Kaden’s own head had been so severe that he was kept in a medically induced coma for two-weeks, giving the wounded flesh time to heal. When he awoke, his whole world was shattered. He grieved, and as he did his grief turned to anger. Anger at the situation, anger at the long arduous healing process, and anger at himself. But all that anger had to go somewhere, and with the only person around during his recovery being his wife, she took the brunt of it. It took him a little over a year to fully heal physically, and during that time he began to develop a dependency on his pain medication. He spent his days sitting in front of the tv drinking beer after beer on top of the opiates as his wife worked in a small diner to try and keep the roof over their heads. One day, a year and half after the tragic accident, the woman had decided that she had had enough. She gave Kaden an ultimatum, get help or she was gone. It led to the largest fight yet, a massive blowout that made it clear where Kaden stood. Two months later Kaden was arrested for possesion with intent to distribute and spent two years in jail.

When he was released he was nearing twenty-nine and with nowhere else to go moved back in with his parents. His father though older now was still tough as nails and no patience for his son’s pansiness as he called it. He put Kaden to work. Sober or not he was expected to help, and if he didn’t, God help him. At first he railed, his rage boiling over and eclipsing everything. Rather than argue with his son, the elder Daniels simply gave him a new task. It would be his only job- start the colts. It was something Kaden had used to excel at, but his anger and rage at the horse’s mis compliance made things difficult. The gentle animals became scared of him and began to lash out. One colt in particular, a beautiful bay, resented Kaden more than any of the others, and he let him know it. That was Kaden��s wake up call. He ended up forming a bond with that colt that pulled him out of his stupor and set him back on track. His special relationship with that animal also earned him a nickname, Kash, because wherever Kash went, Johnny followed, drawn to the dolcent songs Kaden would always croon to Johnny. Hence: Johnny and Kash aka the country singer Johnny Cash. It was a clever nickname that soon became a permanent moniker. The pair competed in countless roping and reining competitions, and for the next years, Kash allowed himself to feel the happiness that had come into his life.

A part of that happiness came in the form of another cowboy type, JD Culpepper. With Kash’s travel all over the countryside, picking up odd jobs here and there, it was a slow romance. At first neither party really admitted to the other how they felt. There was heat, passion, and then somewhere along the way the beginnings of love. It scared Kash to no end, being on the verge of the first real relationship he had been in since the divorce from his wife. Things were moving steadily, until they weren’t. JD vanished, ghosting him one day when they had been scheduled to meet in the same town. Kash waited for a week before deciding it was time to move on. The rejection hurt, ripping him open in a way he hadn’t expected and refused to acknowledge. Two months after his partner vanished was when Johnny came up lame with an injury too bad to fix, leaving Kash the tough choice of having to put his beloved companion down.

Without the man who had become his support system the loss of his friend sent Kaden ass-first back into the destructive patterns of his life, drugs and alcohol once more waging war inside his body. Only this time he wasn’t a young man, and the substances were taking a heavy toll on his health, not that he cared. His parents, unable to reach him, packed his things and kicked him out. Kash’s father, unable to completely give up on his son, reached out to an old friend who owned a cattle ranch in Texas. For over a year Kash lived there, forced to claw his way back to sobriety through back-breaking labor. The option was always there for him to quit the job, fend for himself, but the company of the horses and being the source of looking after their well-being brought him back from the brink much like it had the last time. A year and a half later he was completely back on the wagon, though he can be known to slip with the drinking whenever the subject of his daughter is brought to the forefront of his mind, mainly around birthdays, his and hers, as well as holidays.

Wanting more independence Kash turned in his resignation, thanking his father’s friend for getting him back on his feet. With a firm grasp on his addiction, Kaden set back out onto the rodeo circuit. He continued to travel and compete. Picking up odd-jobs along the way to keep his simple lifestyle afloat. Until he started working at a feedlot called Matacuna Feeders. He’d intended to just pick up some day work while competing in the rodeo at the local arena when he saw him. JD. Out inspecting some of the livestock. His heart fluttered and desire turned to anger burning deep in his chest. He has yet to confront him, but the day is fast approaching.

PLOT ARC.

Kash is currently neutral. As the son of a farmer, he doesn’t care for big business, and is naturally against corporations like Obsidian Holdings. That doesn’t mean he’s going to take action against them, just that he doesn’t agree with what they do, how they do it, or their ideals. There is a chance he could be swayed to the Cowboy Mafia. It will be largely dependent on how things go with his ex, who’s a top hand. If their reunion ends well, Kash could find himself being dragged into more Cowboy business. For now he’s content using his skills to be a simple day hand at the feed lot and competing in local rodeos.

#biography

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merrock · 9 months ago

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CHARACTER INFORMATION

face claim: Luke Grimes

full name: Kaden Daniels

nickname(s) / goes by: Kash

pronouns & gender: cis man & he/him

sexuality: bi-sexual

birth date: January 25, 1986.

birth place: Vicksburg, Mississippi

arrival to merrock: Two weeks ago

housing: Currently an apartment in Historic Downtown. Looking to purchase a farm house in the Rural Countryside.

occupation: Ranger

work place: Merrock State Park

family: Lucie Newman, mother of his unborn child

relationship status: Single

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: Hard-working, Compassionate, Humble, Steady

Negative Traits: Guilt-Ridden, Blunt, Secretive, Withdrawn

Kaden was raised a proper country boy. His mother engrained manners into him from an early age. Yes ma’am and no sir. His childhood taught him the value of hardwork and when to find time for fun. It inspired his intense love for animals and enabled him to do the work that he does. He was once a hard-working family man and aspires to be that again someday. Someday being now as he has a baby on the way. Most would describe him as calm and stoic, the temperament needed to break a colt. Bravery and determination also describe him. Both were necessary to get on the back of a bucking horse. He is still much that same man even after his accident. The only difference is the anger. It was touch and go for a while but eventually he learned how to gain a hold of a temper he never before had to deal with. Along with a lot of guilt. The only real way to rile him up anymore is to make mention of his past: accident, addiction, or daughter.

WRITTEN BY: Bird (she/her), cst.

BACKGROUND / BIO

triggering / sensitive content: tags: death tw, child death tw, drugs tw, injury tw

His father, seeing his boy take an interest in horses at such a young age decided to help Kaden begin to follow in his footsteps. As a kid he enrolled Kaden in the pee-wee portion of rodeos where his wife would take pictures of the young boy struggling to stay on the back of a wildly running sheep, but in the end, he stayed on. He almost always did. With natural talent like that his father was quick to get his son started on the path to becoming a bull-rider. His mama threw fits and got into fights with his daddy, it was too dangerous, he could be hurt, killed even, but as he got older and started to have a mind of his own there was nothing that he wanted to do more. So he practiced, and practiced. By sixteen he was competing on broncs, a safer alternative to the bull, and was cleaning up at junior rodeos, his room becoming full of belt buckles, the tack room full of all the special made trophy tack he had won. But being bucked was far from his only talent. At age ten he had broke his very first colt and at twelve he was winning local roping competitions. He even became adept at helping his dad sort and catch cattle, something he was never fond of but did anyways as it was expected of him. Despite how it sounds, his childhood wasn’t all work. While never the best in school he managed to get passing marks and had a group of boys he roughhoused and fucked around with who were constantly getting him into trouble as a teenager.

The blow to Kaden’s own head had been so severe that he was kept in a medically induced coma for two-weeks, giving the wounded flesh time to heal. When he awoke, his whole world was shattered. He grieved, and as he did his grief turned to anger. Anger at the situation, anger at the long arduous healing process, and anger at himself. But all that anger had to go somewhere, and with the only person around during his recovery being his wife, she took the brunt of it. It took him a little over a year to fully heal physically, and during that time he began to develop a dependency on his pain medication. He spent his days sitting in front of the tv drinking beer after beer on top of the opiates as his wife worked in a small diner to try and keep the roof over their heads. One day, a year and half after the tragic accident, the woman had decided that she had had enough. She gave Kaden an ultimatum, get help or she was gone. It led to largest fight yet, a massive blowout that made it clear where Kaden stood. Two months later Kaden was arrested for possesion with intent to distribute and spent two years in jail.

When he was released he was nearing thirty-two and with nowhere else to go moved back in with his parents. His father though older now was still tough as nails and no patience for his son’s pansiness as he called it. He put Kaden to work. Sober or not he was expected to help, and if he didn’t, God help him. At first he railed, his rage boiling over and eclipsing everything. Rather than argue with his son, the elder Daniels simply gave him a new task. It would be his only job- start the colts. It was something Kaden had used to excel at, but his anger and rage at the horse’s mis compliance made things difficult. The gentle animals became scared of him and began to lash out. One colt in particular, a beautiful bay, resented Kaden more than any of the others, and he let him know it. That was Kaden’s wake up call. He ended up forming a bond with that colt that pulled him out of his stupor and set him back on track. His special relationship with that animal also earned him a nickname, Kash, because wherever Kash went, Johnny followed, drawn to the dolcent songs Kaden would always croon to Johnny. Hence: Johnny and Kash aka the country singer Johnny Cash. It was a clever nickname that soon became a permanent moniker. The pair competed in countless roping and reining competitions, and for the next years, Kash allowed himself to feel the happiness that had come into his life. The two traveled all over the countryside, with Kash picking up odd jobs such as stable hand or working cowboy. Until one competition where in the middle Buzz came up lame with an injury too bad to fix, leaving Kash the tough choice of having to put his beloved companion down.

The loss of his friend sent Kaden ass-first back into the destructive patterns of his life, drugs and alcohol once more waging war inside his body. Only this time he wasn’t a young man, and the substances were taking a heavy toll on his health, not that he cared. His parents, unable to reach him, packed his things and kicked him out. Kash’s father, unable to completely give up on his son, reached out to an old friend who owned a dude ranch an hour outside of LA. For over a year Kash lived there, forced to claw his way back to sobriety through back-breaking labor. The option was always there for him to quit the job, fend for himself, but the company of the horses and being the source of looking after their well-being brought him back from the brink much like it had the last time. A year and a half later he was completely back on the wagon, though he can be known to slip with the drinking whenever the subject of his daughter is brought to the forefront of his mind, mainly around birthdays, his and hers, as well as holidays.

Wanting more independence Kash turned in his resignation, thanking his father’s friend for getting him back on his feet. With a new horse and a firm grasp on his addiction, Kaden set back out onto the rodeo circuit. That’s when he met Lucie. Their mutual need for freedom drew them together quickly and soon they were officially an item. Things were good, though sometimes the mutual distance made it difficult. Lucie was someone Kaden could see himself choosing to settle down with a few years down the road when the time was right. Maybe even start another family. But then came the argument. It had started out trivially enough but a jab from Lucie about his past sent him over the edge. The fact that she had not only dug up his past, but used it to fling mud at him during an argument caused him to lose control of his temper. Tthe rage that spilled out put a nail in the coffin of their relationship.

Since then he’s continued to travel and compete. Picking up odd-jobs along the way to keep his simple lifestyle afloat. He likely would have remained like that for the rest of his working years had he not stumble across Lucie on instagram one night. A very pregnant Lucie. Quick math told him the timeline made sense and before he could think better of it he was on his way to Merrock. There was no question, never a doubt in his mind that Merrock was where he needed to be. Despite his flaws he had been raised to place family above all else and the child on the way made Lucie and him family, whether she likes it or not.

#merrockbio #kadendaniels #death tw #child death tw #injury tw #drug use tw #drug abuse tw #drugs tw

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rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me · 2 years ago

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Mental image that is making me incredibly happy and sad at the same time-

Tim and Dallas on their way to the bleachers after competing (tbh I feel like they'd both d bronc riding) while Sylvia hops the fence to get ready for her event (barrel racing). “Not bad, boys,” she says, walking between the two with her hands raised. Tim rolls his eyes, Dallas grins.

“Give ‘em hell.”

“Go kick some ass,” the boys say, returning the high-five when they pass.

The boys definitely ride broncs, I can see both of them being super competitive with each other in that. Sylvia’s a barrel racing queen, she rides one of Buck’s horses and rarely knocks down the barrels, often getting the fastest times of the night-

Those are her boys, no matter how they ride that night, and she’s their girl, no matter how many times Dally claims her as his. They may be goin’ steady, but Tim’s been at her side almost as long as she can remember. They support each other and always make sure to be there for each other’s rides <3 you can bet those boys are going to be cheering the loudest when Sylvia rounds the last barrel in her ride and they’re going to be the first to catch her when she’s done and pull her into a tight hug

#dillo’s replies #sophie i guess13

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scooby-snacs · 2 years ago

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AU’s I don’t have the time to write, but offer ample serotonin to my little rat brain:

1. WESTERN-RODEO MARAUDERS:

i don’t know if i’ve just been watching too much of the yellowstone series or it’s due to the fact that i’m currently living in a very pro-redneck/ western-ish styled town but the concept of barrel rider regulus + rodeo-boy james. like james just doing his thing and getting ready for his run and then this stunning barrel racer king of a man who looks so damn breakable but also forged from literal marble for skin just throws him completely off kilter. and then proceeds James being all “I need to know this man!” cue him asking around to figure out who this heck of a barrel racer is and— just James falling so hard and messing up again and again to the point that regulus finds his stuttering and clumsiness so dang endearing and lord have mercy he tired not to fall for this chaotic mess of a man but here we are.

AND like sirius is doing competitive roping and just like being an absolutely badass (for some reason un-explainable reason i NEED this man to have a boot collection. including a pair of shiny red boots, heeled boots for dancing and a worn/torn pair of shitkickers for working in the corrals). and regulus and him will be like new or just travelling through the area or something. normally they don’t branch out and make friends, but then sirius hears about this bronc rider asking around about his little brother and WELL sirius just has know who his slightly socially inept brother of his offended this time around. and then bam! things start to take a bit of a turn. ALSO the entire gang is not complete until the others have a little spice in their life so we just NEED to have remus being a ranch hand on like a HUGE operation —envision a poor boy who is trying to just get his money and move onto the next operation but then falls head over heels for this red shoe wearing roper that he saw one time at a rodeo —A RODEO at which he was dragged to by the other workers on the ranch to get this ‘sarcastic asshole’ to lighten up a little and not be so serious all the time. JUST RANCH HAND COWBOY REMUS!

AND OFC barty has to be there- cause he’s a crazy mf that we love so very much, he will be absolutely killing it at bronc- riding (the very dangerous borderline stupid horse bucking thing, yknow?) AND barty and james always do stupid bets on who’s going to last longer and like purposely shove the other around but all in a non-toxic bros being bros sort of way. BUT then reg and barty meet, and barty noticed how much this annoys James cause he’s so head over heels for this new barrel racer so they start up on having a playful banter of “oh yeah your soooo cool” and like like snubbing one another constantly because of the whol buckle-bunny barrel-racer and rodeo-boy bad-news stigma. AND JAMES JUST BEING FERAL OVER THIS. Then we have the featuring city boy evan who’s a college boy coming back home (son of the very big operation owners maybe that remus works at?!) and like as much as he wanted to get away from this small town, all it takes is seeing barty once and he’s all - that’s him that’s going to be my husband. let me go grab my apron and mix this boy a gin and tonic. and then we have remus and evan both being like why oh why did we fall for rodeo boys? why would we do such a thing but then WOULD YOU KNOW maybe the big ranching operation is looking for some new cowboys to work at it?

to conclude this long winded spiel:

barrel racer regulus

rodeo & bronc riding james

competitive roping sirius

ranch hand remus

bronc riding barty

college boy evan returning home

i have so many thoughts and ideas for this but no time to write - AGH. i just feel all the feelings AND IF THE GIRLS WERE THERE TOO 🥹🤍

#james potter #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin #evan rosier #barty crouch junior #marauders #marauders era #western au #cowboy au #alternate universe #cowboys #think yellowstone #ranching and rodeoing #will you be the yee to my haw?

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landmodsblog · 15 days ago

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Harnessing Potential: Lessons from Training Champion Bucking Bulls

In the world of bull riding, every champion bull begins as raw potential—a mix of muscle, instinct, and untamed energy. The process of transforming these animals into PBR legends isn’t just about training; it’s a masterclass in patience, precision, and purpose. And while the video focuses on bulls, the principles behind their training resonate far beyond the arena. 1. Preparation is…

#best bucking bulls #Bucking broncs competitions #Bucking broncs equipment #Bucking broncs events #Bucking broncs techniques.#bucking bull #bucking bull business #bucking bull partnership #bucking bull trainers #Bucking Bulls #bull riding #cattle #cowboy #cowboy lifestyle #cowboy permaculture #eco-friendly farming #ecological farming

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

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Buckle Bunny

Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Reader

Word Count: 2,582

Warnings: None

Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell

You were bribed (AKA you lost a bet) into going to a local rodeo and being a Buckle Bunny. Unbeknownst to you, a mildly bored Jack Daniels is waiting in the crowd. Unbeknownst to Jack, the buckle bunny he’s smooth talking is a whole lot more than meets the eye.

“I am not wearing this!” You shouted, flinging the hat at your laughing best friend. “I am wearing my own hat.”

Elle, still doubled over with laughter, took the shitty hat from you, gesturing to Harmony to pass over your actual cowboy hat. You settled the brown hat on your head, sighing.

About a month ago, Elle had made a stupid bet with you, who could stomach one of Harmony’s ridiculously frilly pink drinks the longest. You’d puked first, and therefore lost the bet. Elle’s reward? She demanded you attend your next rodeo as a buckle bunny.

“I hate you,” you growled, wiggling in your tiny shorts. “This is embarrassing! I am competing today.”

“I told you that you can absolutely put on real clothes when you compete,” Elle said, handing you your boots. “But until then, I want you to get some numbers! Find you a nice sugar daddy or something.”

You reached behind you to smack a squealing Elle, Harmony almost falling off the bed with how much she was laughing.

“We’re gonna be late,” Harmony said finally, standing and saving Elle from your wrath. “Come on.”

The drive to the rodeo was quiet, with you sulking in the backseat. Buckle bunnies were often the bane of your existence, and now you had to pretend to be one.

The rodeo was, as expected, crowded. The fair was also in town, and between the rides and the rodeo, there were hundreds of people gathered in what was once an empty field.

“Just find a hot cowboy and go flirt relentlessly!” Elle said as she walked off to find the funnel cake. “Have fun!”

You gave her a middle finger, tried to pull your shorts down yet again, and headed off.

Wandering was easy. The fair and rodeo were your playground, and you knew every corner of the space, from the rigged games to the mildly unstable Ferris wheel.

“Well hey there little lady,” a voice drawled beside you as you finally decided to grab something to eat. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ all the way out here?”

Resisting the urge to gag, you turned, seeing an unfairly attractive man raising his eyebrows at you. He was stupidly good looking and dressed like a southerner, but not a full blooded cowboy. The hat looked authentic enough though.

“Oh,” you said, trying to act ditzy. “Just wanted to see what the commotion was. It’s so hot!”

The man grinned, taking off his sunglasses and revealing blazingly amazing brown eyes. In the sun, they looked whiskey gold. “Well, I’m Jack.”

You gave him your name, looking wistfully at the food truck. “I’m gonna grab a drink. You want somethin’?”

Jack shrugged. “Might as well.”

You two stood beside each other as the line moved up, until you were ordering your good luck charm, a shamrock green cup of shaved ice. It was margarita and spearmint flavored, aptly nicknamed the Mojito, despite not having a drop of alcohol.

Jack took a minute, but finally ordered a plain cherry cup of shaved ice. He beat you to the register, winking as he paid.

“I could’ve paid,” you pouted, taking a bite of your shaved ice and immediately feeling a reprieve from the blistering heat.

“You could’ve,” Jack agreed. “But you didn’t.”

Snorting in a likely unflattering way, you led Jack towards the rodeo portion of the field. “So. What’re you here for, cowboy?”

Jack smiled. “The rodeo, of course. Got the day off of work. Figured I’d relax the way my dad used to.”

You smiled. Jack was surprisingly more likable than you’d expected. You and him found a spot in the mostly empty bleachers around the rodeo ring and just talked. The metal of the bleachers burned your thighs, but you ignored it in favor of staring at Jack.

He was gentle with you, happily explaining rodeo terms you’d known since before you could walk. You pretended to be entirely clueless, keeping up the buckle bunny act. You’d almost told him about the dare, but then the thought of him seeing the supposedly dumb bunny getting a nearly perfect saddle bronc score was too good to pass up.

When an announcer called all the competitors to the tent, you jumped up, checking your watch. “Oh goodness, is that the time? My daddy’s gonna kill me!”

Jack chuckled, standing as well. “Sure you can’t stay? The show’s about to start.”

You shook your head. “Sorry cowboy, daddy’s super strict. See you!” You planted a kiss on his cheek and winked as you walked away.

Jogging to the competitor’s tent, you immediately checked in and detoured to the bathroom. Putting on proper pants, a button down shirt, a shamrock green vest, your belt and leg covers, and your spurs, you rushed out to join the other competitors, nodding to men you’d competed with all your life. This wasn’t a real competition, it was mostly just for fun and entertainment, so you weren’t worried about the competitors being nasty. In fact, some of them grinned and clapped your back in greeting, as if you’d been the best of friends for years.

Turning your attention to the blathering announcer, you tuned in just as he announced the saddle bronc. You were second to last, with only five people before you.

Those five people went and were judged loosely, and then they were leading you to the horse you’d be riding. It wasn’t your horse, no, your horse was waiting for the timed events. Saddle bronc was the only roughstock event you rode, and boy was it worth the risk.

Situating your spurs above the chestnut horse’s shoulders, you gripped the bronc rein tied to the horse’s bridle with one hand and secured your hat one last time with the other.

Just like that, a buzzer was sounding, and you were off, jolting around wildly as the chestnut tried to throw you off. But between your hand and your thighs, you weren’t going anywhere. The chestnut kept kicking, and you moved with him, back and forth and back and forth like a wave, your free hand occasionally touching your hat to keep it on your head, but it mostly stayed free, helping keep the balance. Your spurs dug into the chestnut’s shoulders and neck, just enough pressure to piss him off and keep him kicking, but not too much, lest you actually hurt the horse.

The chestnut whirled around, trying to throw you. You’d never ridden this horse before, but he was definitely a bucking horse, and knew as much about the job as you did.

Eventually, you were thrown from the chestnut’s back, hitting the dirt and rolling away from the horse so he didn’t hurt you.

You stood once it was safe, hearing cheers as you swept your hat from your head and bowed deeply, a triumphant grin on your face.

“And for competitor 6, a score of 90!”

It wasn’t your best, but you were extremely happy, bowing to the judges and walking off to go wait for the final competitor. As you waited, you looked over the events list. For the timed events, steer wrestling would be first, after the roughstock events finished. You didn’t compete in steer wrestling. Not because you couldn’t, but because, like the remaining two roughstock events, they were too rough on your body. You’d stick to the other events, thank you very much.

When the final competitor finished, they called everyone out to assess scores. A 90 was damn close to perfect, and if you were paying attention correctly, you’d won.

The small podium was painted with the traditional one, two, and three, and the announcer, a cowboy with a real buckle bunny by his side, began to announce scores.

Third place was a valiant 75. The buckle bunny placed the medal around his neck, grinning widely.

Second place was a damn good 85. He clapped your back as he jogged off to take his prize.

“In first place, competitor 6, with a score of 90!”

You walked to the podium, stepping up above the number one, bowing slightly so the buckle bunny could slip the medal around your neck. As you waved to the crowd, you put on your most natural smile and scanned the crowd for Jack, but it was too late. You were leaving to go wait out the rest of the events you weren’t in, unable to spot your mystery man.

Alone in the stables, you stroked down Lilac’s nose, humming to yourself. Lilac was your rodeo girl, speedy as hell and perfect when paired with you. She nudged into your shoulder, and you didn’t know it was a warning until you heard a voice behind you.

“And so it seems I was fooled.”

You turned, seeing Jack leaning against a wall.

“Shouldn’t you be watching the rodeo?” You asked. “I mean, that’s got to be more interesting than talking to a fake bunny.”

Jack shrugged. “Yeah, but I ain’t here to talk to a fake bunny. I’m here for the real rodeo rider. That was impressive. How long have you been competing?”

“Since I was able to ride,” you admitted. “My dad used to put on fake competitions for me to practice in when I was six. Been doing rodeo events ever since.”

“Huh.” Jack drew closer. “Are you the bettin’ kind?”

Smirking, you took a step closer to him, so you were basically chest to chest. “That depends. What’re the stakes?”

“My phone number.”

You were definitely interested. “What must I do to obtain said number?”

Flicking the brim of your hat, Jack began to walk away, calling out over his shoulder, “Win the rest of your events.”

You snorted. Even without something as interesting as Jack’s prize on the line, you’d still probably win your events.

That didn’t stop you from being nervous. By the time they were calling the barrel racers out, you were a ball of anxiety. Lilac nudged into you, snorting as you stroked her nose.

You were set to go second out of the five competing, watching the competitor before you grab a decent score. Swinging up into Lilac’s saddle, you took a deep breath. Decent was good. Perfect was better.

The buzzer went off, and so did Lilac. Swinging immediately to the right barrel, you kept control, turning her in a hairpin turn, your knee just barely grazing the barrel. It remained upright, and you moved on. Lilac was going top speed, tightly turning the next barrel, you atop her, sure this time would break your personal best.

The third barrel was the final one, and it was perfection. You cued perfectly, Lilac turned perfectly, and then it was over.

“Competitor 2 with a time of 15.7 seconds!”

You laughed, adrenaline and joy coursing through you. Your personal best had been stubbornly stuck at 16.1 for months, but this had just shattered it.

In the end, you won the event, immediately moving on to the tie down. The last event.

You were first, Lilac nervously prancing behind the barrier as they brought out a calf. You’d been told all your life tie down events were cruel, and you agreed to a certain degree. But the way this rodeo did it, you were secure in the knowledge that the calf wasn’t getting hurt today. Not without severe consequences.

The countdown began, and you fiddled with your lasso. It was a familiar feeling, and you adjusted it just right, hearing the countdown reach zero. The calf took off, and two seconds after it, so did you.

Your first throw of the lasso was successful, grabbing the calf as you sprung off Lilac and felt her back up, giving you a tighter rope. You moved forward, grabbing the calf and flanking it in one swift movement. You took the end of the lasso and tied an expertly precise and incredibly fast three bone cross, securing the calf and hopefully, your win.

Your time was called. A 9.3. Not a personal best, but pretty damn close considering your best was an even 9 seconds.

The next few riders averaged around a 10, with someone nabbing a neat 9.5 that made your heart pound. And then, the final competitor.

Your blood chilled. Jack, atop a beautiful black horse, sat behind the barrier, adjusting his lasso. Leaning against the fence, you didn’t even blink as his calf raced out, and right behind the calf, him.

Suddenly, your original speculation of him being southern but not a cowboy was gone. He was picture perfect in that saddle, the lasso in his hands moving as if it were alive. He was good. Too good.

As he walked away from the calf, the announcer called his time, and your heart almost stopped.

He’d scored a 9.2.

He’d bested you by a tenth of a second.

Accepting your second place medal was hard. Standing next to Jack, you felt a bit bad for feeling so jealous. Jealousy wasn’t your color, so maybe that wasn’t it. Maybe you were just disappointed.

After the show, you packed up your three medals, two golds and a silver, and gave Lilac a pat as you handed her off to the stable hands. Leaving the stable, you looked around for Elle and Harmony, eager to get some funnel cake and play around with the horribly rigged games before the fireworks.

“Hello darlin’.”

The drawl made you turn. Jack grinned at you from the barn, and you walked over to him.

“Congrats,” you said, nodding to his gold medal. “That was impressive riding.”

“All part of the job,” Jack said, shrugging it off. “Anyway, I believe you earned your prize.”

You were shocked. “I didn’t, actually. I got silver. You won the last event.”

Jack smiled. “Ah, but two golds beats one, doesn’t it?”

He pulled out a pen, and you let him scrawl his number onto your hand. As he pocketed the pen, he tipped his hat to you and turned in the direction of a woman with short hair and a neat white button up who was apparently waiting for him. “By the way, green looks good on you!”

Jack walked away, making a ‘call me’ gesture as he disappeared into the crowd.

“What was that?” Elle yelled as he jumped on you from behind. “He was cute!”

Harmony was a bit nicer, squealing and grabbing your hand. “Jack Daniels,” she read. “Oh hell no, that is not his actual name!”

You yanked you hand back, smiling and taking a picture of the number, just in case. “I want funnel cake.”

Promptly ignoring all the questions for the rest of the night, you tried not to think about the number until you fell onto your bed, hat securely tossed onto your lamp.

Finally, you called the number.

“Jack Daniels, what can I do for you?”

“Jack?”

“Bunny!”

You sighed. “Do not call me that.”

Jack chuckled. “Struck a nerve?”

“Just a small one.” You rolled over, trying to think of what to say. “So, I’ve got another rodeo soon.”

“Oh?”

You nodded, despite it being pointless. “Yeah. I’m a judge, and I’m allowed to bring a date.”

Jack paused. “Bunny, are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe.”

Another pause, and then Jack laughed. “Consider it done bunny. On one condition.”

You smiled. “You never call me bunny ever again?”

“Nah,” Jack said. “Wear somethin’ green.”

Feeling giddy, you eagerly nodded. “Consider it done Mr. Daniels.”

#kingsman the golden circle #kingsman #agent whiskey #jack 'whiskey' daniels #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #Pedro Pascal #My writing

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whirlybirbs · 5 years ago

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Modern!Arthur hits too different like let me lovingly patch his bruises up after a competition, but also let me ride him for longer than 8 seconds you know what I’m saying 👀🤠🥴

“Sweetpea,” comes the exasperated sigh as he hobbles down from his truck in the evening air, “M’fine.”

The eye roll, however involuntary, tells Arthur that this is one battle he isn’t going to win — not that he wins many anyways. You’re incredibly good at putting the cowboy back in his place and he knows it. Cherishes it, even. It’s cute to see you hop from the truck and shake your head in his direction.

“No, you’re not,” you shoot back, pointing at him as he stretches and winces, “Let me carry the heavy stuff, will you?”

Ever since Arthur had taken a hard fall at the beginning of last season, his back had started to bother him after the rougher rides at competitions. Today’s ongoings could be categorized just as such — rough — after he’d nailed a relatively high score, only to be bucked off his saddle after a particularly nasty bronc thrashed him about for a long eight seconds. Tack on the barrel racing and steer wrestling... well, Arthur Morgan is sore.

He’s about to open his mouth to protest when you beat him to the back of his truck, swatting away his hands as they reach for the well-loved saddle and gear sitting in the bed. Swinging the tailgate down, you nearly hip-check Arthur out of the way, making him laugh as you haul the saddle out of the back and hike it up in your arms.

“If I have t’ hear you complain about your back one more time — I swear, just go lay down and when I get in I’ll help you ice it.”

Arthur quirks a brow as he leans on the lip of the truck bed. He watches as you meander up onto the Marston’s porch and prop the saddle up in its usual spot.

“... Can I get a few kisses on th’ head, too?”

His smile is goofy. You laugh out loud as you stand on the porch, shaking your head.

“Yeah, Arthur, I guess I can spare a few of those, too.”

#i ended up watching like an hour of rodeo competition content when writing this blurb #oops #modern!au #modern!simpler said aloud #arthur morgan x reader

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oylevalla · 3 years ago

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Watch NFR Live Stream 2021 Rodeo Online

When talking about 2020 Rodeo is basically it basically refers to an annual National Finals Rodeo event that is meant to happen on Thursday, December 2nd to the Saturday 11th at the Thomas & Mack Center which is located in Las Vegas, NV, United States. Additionally, the scheduled event is supposed to cover about Bareback Riding, Barrel Racing, Bull Riding, Saddle Bronc Riding, Steer Wrestling, Team Roping and Time-down Roping. Importantly, NFR live stream 2021. The NFR is shaping up to be one of the most competitive and entertaining rodeos that the world has ever seen. The top cowboys in the world will be putting their boots on and taking each other on to try and claim a world championship in their respective events. Mark your calendars and make sure you do not miss out on a single second of action this December.

When is the National Finals Rodeo?

For individuals who plan on attending the NFR festivities in Las Vegas, there are a variety of sponsored activities to get involved with during the 10-day period between 9:00AM to 5:00PM (PT). Each night’s NFR performances will officially take place between 6:45PM to 9:00PM (PT). See complete NFR schedule page.

Where will the NFR Texas 2021 be held?

All of the NFR’s main performances will take place at the Globe Life Field in Arlington, Texas. Normally home of the home of the Texas Rangers baseball team, this venue can seat up to 40,300 people and tickets will go on sale to the public on Sept. 25, 2020.

What TV Channel will the NFR be on?

The Cowboy Channel is the official media partner for the PRCA and Wrangler NFR 2020. Because this is an exclusive deal between the network and the PRCA, the NFR will not be shown on any other TV network during the 10-day period.

How to watch NFR Live Stream 2020 Online

The Wrangler NFR is a 10-day event that includes the fan-favorite Cowboy Christmas as well as the PRCA National Convention. The schedule also includes nightly Buckle Presentations, Benny Binion’s World Famous Wrangler NFR Bucking Horse Sale, the PRCA Awards Banquet and Gala also the Pro Rodeo League of Women Style Show and Luncheon. All performances will be covered by The Cowboy Channel live and simulcast on RFD-TV. Wrangler 2021 National Finals Rodeo (NFR) Live move to The Cowboy Channel (TCC) and RFD-TV beginning in 2020. The performances will also be streamed on the PRCA on Cowboy Channel Plus app. The PRCA on Cowboy Channel Plus app users will be able to stream events both live and recorded.

The Cowboys Channel

The ultimate annual rodeo event will now be seen by millions of people live simultaneously on two national TV networks. Also included in the deal is a wide variety of other PRCA programming, including expanded live coverage of the PRORODEO TOUR and the PRCA’s Xtreme Bulls Tour events which will result in a huge increase in the amount, availability and quality of PRCA PRORODEO coverage on The Cowboy Channel here. The Cowboy Channel now available on Dish Network-232, Direct TV-603, Cox-260 anytime, and anywhere. You can enjoy Rural Media on these platforms:

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woodyclawson · 4 years ago

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( MILO VENTIMIGLIA + CISMALE ) — Have you seen WAGNER ‘WOODY’ LAWSON ? This FORTY-ONE year old is a/an BARN MANAGER who resides in STATEN ISLAND. HE/HIM has/have been living in NYC for FOUR YEARS, and is/are known to be STEADY and HUMBLE, but can also be BLUNT and DISSONANT, if you cross them. People tend to associate them with THE SMELL OF FRESH HAY and AGED WHISKEY

Name: Wagner ‘Woody’ Lawson

Age: Forty-One

Birthday: January 25, 1979

Sign: Aquarius

Neighborhood: East Kingsboro

Home: Quaint two-bedroom home with a small yard

Occupation: Barn Manager

Character Quote: “Sometimes I feel like Jesse James / Still tryin’ to make a name / Knowing nothing’s gonna change what I am” ~Troubadour by George Strait

Pos. Traits: Hard-Working, Steady, Humble

Neg. Traits: Blunt, Firm, Dissonant

Likes: farm work, aged whiskey, loping through the open country

Dislikes: people who push around others, well-done steak, warm beer

Aesthetic: tennessee whiskey, the smell of fresh hay, roping

Born in Tennessee Wagner Lawson was raised along the banks of Mississippi mud, never given a chance to be anything but the down-home country boy, which had always suited Wagner just fine. His daddy was a colt starter and former rodeo champion, having won national titles for roping and reining. From the moment Wagner could waddle he was following his daddy around everywhere, at first just watching as his father worked and as he got older helping with the chores himself. He found that spending time tending to the many horses cathartic and volunteered for just about any chore that would get him around them. Never once did he need to be asked to pitch in to do what was needed at the family ranch, from picking vegetables in the garden for his mama to helping his daddy check the cattle fences. As far as most childhoods go, his was pretty perfect. Sure, sometimes his dad drank too much and sometimes his mom just would not stop fussing over him, but he had no cause to complain.

His father, seeing his boy take an interest in horses at such a young age decided to help Wagner begin to follow in his footsteps. As a kid he enrolled Wagner in the pee-wee portion of rodeos where his wife would take pictures of the young boy struggling to stay on the back of a wildly running sheep, but in the end, he stayed on. He almost always did. With natural talent like that his father was quick to get his son started on the path to becoming a bull-rider. His mama threw fits and got into fights with his daddy, it was too dangerous, he could be hurt, killed even, but as he got older and started to have a mind of his own there was nothing that he wanted to do more. So he practiced, and practiced. By sixteen he was competing on broncs, a safer alternative to the bull, and was cleaning up at junior rodeos, his room becoming full of belt buckles, the tack room full of all the special made trophy tack he had won. But being bucked was far from his only talent. At age ten he had broke his very first colt and at twelve he was winning local roping competitions. He even became adept at helping his dad sort and catch cattle, something he was never fond of but did anyways as it was expected of him. Despite how it sounds, his childhood wasn’t all work. While never the best in school he managed to get passing marks and had a group of boys he roughhoused and fucked around with who were constantly getting him into trouble as a teenager.

Fast forward a few years and he was one of the hottest young bull riders to hit the circuit. But his career as a rider didn’t last as long as anyone would have hoped. The reason? He fell in love. Some would have called the pretty woman he fell in love with a buckle bunny, what with her affinity of dating all the big rodeo stars, but when him and her spent one night together the rest was history. Now twenty-two and married with a baby on the way, Wagner knew he could not be as hell mell as he had been for the past few years. He now had a family to think about; and so, he quit bull riding and switched exclusively to broncs. It was still dangerous, but the risks less than if he was on the back of a bull. Life went on and for the most part the little family was happy, until tragedy struck. On the night of his twenty-eighth birthday, with his wife and little girl in the stands, he overtightened the strap around his hand. At first everything seemed to be going well, he had one of his best times, but as he threw himself off the bucking bronco his hand caught. It was an instant disaster. The animal began to panic, bucking harder and higher, with Wagner hanging on for dear life. His only blessing was that the first hoof to his head knocked him out cold. He was rammed into the side of the fence and drug for minutes before those in charge of wrangling the horse were finally able to calm it down. In the midst of the chaos, his wife, fretting over her husband, had not noticed her daughter slip down through the stands calling out for her daddy. No one noticed her presence in the ring until it was too late. All it took was one wrong move from the frightened animal and the sunshine of Wagner’s life was no more.

The blow to Wagner’s own head had been so severe that he was kept in a medically induced coma for two-weeks, giving the wounded flesh time to heal. When he awoke, his whole world was shattered. He grieved, and as he did his grief turned to anger. Anger at the situation, anger at the long arduous healing process, and anger at himself. But all that anger had to go somewhere, and with the only person around during his recovery being his wife, she took the brunt of it. It took him a little over a year to fully heal physically, and during that time he began to develop a dependency on his pain medication. He spent his days sitting in front of the tv drinking beer after beer on top of the opiates as his wife worked in a small diner to try and keep the roof over their heads. One day, a year and half after the tragic accident, the woman had decided that she had had enough. She gave Wagner an ultimatum, get help or she was gone. It led to largest fight yet, a massive blowout that made it clear where Wagner stood.

At that point he was nearing thirty and with nowhere else to go moved back in with his parents. His father though older now was still tough as nails and no patience for his son’s pansiness as he called it. He put Wagner to work. Sober or not he was expected to help, and if he didn’t, God help him. At first he railed, his rage boiling over and eclipsing everything. Rather than argue with his son, the elder Lawson simply gave him a new task. It would be his only job- start the colts. It was something Wagner had used to excel at, but his anger and rage at the horse’s mis compliance made things difficult. The gentle animals became scared of him and began to lash out. One colt in particular, a beautiful bay, resented Wagner more than any of the others, and he let him know it. That was Wagner’s wake up call. He ended up forming a bond with that colt that pulled him out of his stupor and set him back on track. His special relationship with that animal also earned him a nickname, Woody, because wherever Woody went, Buzz followed. Buzz and Woody quickly began racking up wins in roping and reining competitions, and for the next years, Woody allowed himself to feel the happiness that had come into his life. The two traveled all over the countryside, with Woody picking up odd jobs such as stable hand or working cowboy. Until one competition where in the middle Buzz came up lame with an injury too bad to fix, leaving Woody the tough choice of having to put his beloved companion down.

That was four years ago. Woody now resides in Staten Island, working at the local equine therapy and riding lesson program center. He’s the barn manager, the one in charge of making sure the stable hands are doing their job and that the horses are receiving the correct care. It’s a big job, and one he takes seriously. Being around the majestic animals once more is helping him slowly heal, correctly this time, from all the bad that has happened to him. It is a hard road to hoe, but step by step he’s doing it. Perhaps one day he’ll once more be ready for a horse of his own.

#bio #about || woody lawson #tw death #tw drugs #tw alcohol

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wxlawson · 4 years ago

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[ WAGNER ‘WOODY’ LAWSON. 42. CISMALE. HE/HIM] is here! They’ve lived in Silver Lake for [ THREE YEARS ] and are originally from [ TENESEE]. They are a [ MANAGER AT A DUDE RANCH ] and in their downtime love [ COLT STARTING ] and [ TAKING NAPS IN THE HAYLOFT ]. They look a lot like [ MILO VENTIMIGLIA] and live [ IN OASIS APTS ]

Name: Wagner ‘Woody’ Lawson

Age: Forty-Two

Birthday: January 25, 1979

Sign: Aquarius

Home: Quaint two-bedroom home with a small yard

Occupation: Manager at a dude ranch

Character Quote: “Sometimes I feel like Jesse James / Still tryin’ to make a name / Knowing nothing’s gonna change what I am” ~Troubadour by George Strait

Pos. Traits: Hard-Working, Steady, Humble

Neg. Traits: Blunt, Firm, Dissonant

Likes: farm work, aged whiskey, loping through the open country

Dislikes: people who push around others, well-done steak, warm beer

Aesthetic: tennessee whiskey, the smell of fresh hay, roping

~bio~

Fast forward a few years and he was one of the hottest young bull riders to hit the circuit. But his career as a rider didn’t last as long as anyone would have hoped. The reason? He fell in love. Some would have called the pretty woman he fell in love with a buckle bunny, what with her affinity of dating all the big rodeo stars, but when him and her spent one night together the rest was history. Now twenty-two and married with a baby on the way, Wagner knew he could not be as hell mell as he had been for the past few years. He now had a family to think about; and so, he quit bull riding and switched exclusively to broncs. It was still dangerous, but the risks less than if he was on the back of a bull. Life went on and for the most part the little family was happy, until tragedy struck. On the night of his twenty-eighth birthday, with his wife and little girl in the stands, he overtightened the strap around his hand. At first everything seemed to be going well, he had one of his best times, but as he threw himself off the bucking bronco his hand caught. It was an instant disaster. The animal began to panic, bucking harder and higher, with Wagner hanging on for dear life. His only blessing was that the first hoof to his head knocked him out cold. He was rammed into the side of the fence and drug for minutes before those in charge of wrangling the horse were finally able to calm it down. In the midst of the chaos, his wife, fretting over her husband, had not noticed her daughter slip down through the stands calling out for her daddy. No one noticed her presence in the ring until it was too late. All it took was one wrong move from the frightened animal and the sunshine of Wagner’s life was no more.

The loss of his friend sent Wagner ass-first back into the destructive patterns of his life, drugs and alcohol once more waging war inside his body. Only this time he wasn’t a young man, and the substances were taking a heavy toll on his health, not that he cared. His parents, unable to reach him, packed his things and kicked him out. Woody’s father, unable to completely give up on his son, reached out to an old friend who owned a dude ranch an hour outside of LA. For over a year Woody lived there, forced to claw his way back to sobriety through back-breaking labor. The option was always there for him to quit the job, fend for himself, but the company of the horses and being the source of looking after their well-being brought him back from the brink much like it had the last time. A year and a half later he was completely back on the wagon, though he can be known to slip with the drinking whenever the subject of his daughter is brought to the forefront of his mind, mainly around birthdays, his and hers, as well as holidays.

Wanting more independence Woody turned in his resignation, thanking his father’s friend for getting him back on his feet. Much to his surprise, rather than accept his two weeks notice, he offered Woody a promotion: to oversee the entire running of the dude ranch. It is a big job and one he takes very seriously, knowing that the overall welfare of the horses depends on him, even if he is no longer responsible for their day to day care. That was three years ago.

Since then he’s moved into an apartment at Oasis Apartments in Silver Lake, a place where he could have his freedom yet still manage his responsibilities. Anyone who’s ever been inside his apartment will say it looks like a country movie blew up, with saddles scattered on stands throughout the place and rodeo memorabilia hung up throughout, but for him, it’s the closet thing to home.

#tw death.#tw alcohol #tw addiction #tw drugs #tw death of a child #tw death #about || wagner lawson #bio

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spookywolflee · 6 years ago

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Day 2 : Liberty

Considering how stressed I was for the trot up the day before, I actually woke up quite late. When I first woke up it took me 2 minutes to realize where I actually was and why I wasn’t in my own bed. Then I realized - I’d rented a small room in Valedale and a stable for Sunny whilst the event was on.

I got dressed, had a quick bowl of cereal whilst checking my notifications on Facebook and Instagram, and then meandered down towards the stables. The atmosphere was unbelievable. People and horses everywhere once again, some grooms were mucking out, some riders were attempting to bath, some lunging, others just having a chat with their friends over a cup of coffee.

Today was the first proper day of the competition, and it was Liberty. I’d never done Liberty with Sunny before, heck, I’d only owned her a week and had ridden her once. I really had thrown us both in at the deep end with this show. Mistake? We’d find out.

I’d pondered what I’d possibly be able to do with her, and I could already feel myself start to panic. The times for each competitor had been released about 10 minutes earlier so I rushed over to see what time I’d be competing. There was more than one double sided list of names, and three breaks in the day. I scanned the list looking for my name, not on the first sheet...not on the second....there it was. I was dead last on the third sheet. Which I suppose was lucky, It meant I’d have a bit of time to try and do *something* with Sunny, and at least let me have an idea of what I was letting myself in for.

The day flew by pretty quickly, once I’d mucked Sunny out and done all her jobs, I walked up towards the Hollow Woods where Liberty was being held. Some of the bonds of the riders and horses were unbelievable! One rider was near galloping around the makeshift arena, directing her horse and changing transitions with only her voice, and finished her performance by getting her horse to bow right down, and she dismounted over his head. What on earth?! I couldn’t compete with that!

After that, I scurried back down to the stables, put Sunny’s headcollar back on, and led her up towards Valedale arena where I practiced riding her bareback, first with a bridle, then with a headcollar, and then with a neckrope, and then trying to get her to follow me on the ground.

Once I’d come back down, the final break was over and the final list of competitors were left to go. There had been a few delays throughout the day and so now it was getting quite late. It was around 6pm now and it was starting to get dark. The amount of activity round by the stables had diminished, most riders had put their horses away for the evening and had either gone home for the night, or were down by the Hollow Woods watching the final few competitors.

After a quick groom, a pep talk, and fixing myself up, we were ready. I led Sunny down towards the Hollow Woods. Luckily there were some temporary spotlights set up so it didn’t go completely pitch black and people could actually see what they were doing, the moon was shining bright with moonlight dancing through the trees, and there were fireflies weaving in and out of the crowd and investigating the horses.

“...And the last competitor of the day, and a new competitor on the circuit, Vivien Wolflee and Miss Sunshine Type!” The judge blared over a speaker.

That was me.

I entered the makeshift arena and slipped off Sunny’s headcollar. For a minute, Sunny was just trotting around with no real direction. She was anxious. She started whinnying, and spooking at people in the crowd. I started cringing, but tried to keep it cool. I just walked around the arena, trying to get her attention.

“woaahhh” I quietly called out to her, I’d got on my knees in the arena by this point, attempting to make myself look more ‘approachable’. Once she heard my voice, she stopped dead and her ears pricked up. She looked around and found me, and cantered over to me with a huge leaping buck, and stopped in front of me, broncing playfully and giving me a sniff. Though not the most graceful, I managed to get her to walk, trot, and canter around me using my voice, I then somehow managed to get on her back (even if she was walking off as I mounted) and done some walking and trotting tackless. I was going to canter, but it was getting darker every couple of minutes, and Sunny was extremely tense underneath me. Once I’d had a trot on the other rein, I dismounted and walked over to the exit of the arena, and put her head collar back on. Though it was probably the worst performance of the day, with no real routine or direction, I was still proud of her. I did not expect to be riding a horse I’d owned for a week around the Hollow woods tackless at a show, so I couldn’t fault her, really. She’d been absolutely incredible. I hung around for several minutes whilst the judge concluded the first day of competing, then led her back down to the stables for a well deserved groom and night time feed.

#sso #starstable #ssoedits

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