#stock show and rodeo

[stormyblue90]

#the clone wars #Star Wars #clone troopers #my city’s annual stock show & rodeo is in town and this idea popped into my head…

[mjm2travel]

#mJmTravel #mJm_Travel #mJm2Travel #Tickets San Antonio Stock Show & Rodeo Sip and Shop Tickets Buy Genuine San Antonio Stock Show & Rodeo Sip and Shop Tickets from the official TicketMaster Site. Find San Antonio Stock Show & Rodeo Sip and Shop Tickets, tour schedule, concert details, reviews and photos. #San #Antonio #Stock #Show #Rodeo #Sip #Shop #Tickets

#Antonio #Rodeo #San #Shop #Show #Sip #Sports #Stock #TicketMaster #Tickets

[obstlich]

#i would already be in Denver when hes there WITH my buddy who likes him bc were volunteers at the stock show. so like. what are the odds #colter wall and free rodeo same weekend?? could be us

[adrianasunderworld]

The usual “Mc gets turned into a small child through some magical mishap.” But instead of jumping into the typical cute tomfoolery, Mc does not remember anything past age five, who these people are, or where they are and why, and they are terrified. Mc is looking around the alchemy classroom, all these strange people are staring down at them, and they start bawling their eyes out. 

Their friends try to comfort them, but nothing works. Floyd gets the bright idea to pick Mc up, because kids love being picked up, right?! “Come on, Shrimpy, no need for that!” But all little Mc sees is this big dude with needle sharp teeth and they start screaming and thrashing in his arms. Crewel has to take little Mc away from Floyd and try's to get them to calm down in vain.

“I WANT MY MOMMY!” They keep sobbing at the top of their lungs. (Or daddy, grandma, brother, whatever best suits your Mc.) It gets to the point where Crewel has to put a calming spell on them and they doze off almost immediately, because absolutely nothing they said or did worked. According to him, the effects of the potions will wear off on their own, but that takes a few days.

As the rest of the week goes on, little Mc is passed around from staff member to staff member so they don't distract, or get scared again, by the students. Usually they will be sitting coloring in Crowleys office, or in the back room of Sams shop playing with some toys he had in stock. But even so, that doesn’t stop any of their friends from trying to see Mc. Grim is the first one to get close again to Mc. Crewel explained very calmy that this...cat was their friend, and it was a magic cat that could talk, so don't freak out. Mc thought it was like in their shows back home. Like Jiji from Kikis Delivery Service. So they were okay with Grim despite the initial surprise. Their more human friends, like the Heartsybul and Scarabia gang were not that hard to get used too. Especially when Trey brought cookies, and Kalim being Kalim. 

The issue arose when the students with not so human features got involved. Mc absolutely refused to go near Floyd, and by extension Jade. The one time Idia left his room, he ran into little Mc who was left to play in the courtyard under Silvers watch. (He had fallen asleep, but his woodland friends had taken over.) Idia, to his credit, had heard how scared little Mc was of everything and tried not to be spotted. But sadly he was. They both stood frozen in wide eyed horror staring at one another. Silver woke up and found the odd sight, it would have almost been funny if both of them didn’t look like they were about to cry. Mc hid behind Silver and Idia bolted. 

Jack wasn’t going to hold it against Mc if they were wary of him, at the moment he was a stranger to them after all. But Ace, Deuce, and Grim made a big show of how Jack was their friend, and look how fluffy his ears and tail are! Mc at this point was more curious then scared, and asked nicely if they could pet his tail. When Jack gave the ok, Mc wasted no time in petting it. Jack tail started to wag, and Mc laughed from his tail floof hitting them in the face. It kinda remined Jack of playing with his little siblings. Leona absolutely avoided Mc, he wanted no part in any of this. So of course, Ruggie told Mc there was a grumpy lion man around here that needed some cheering up. Then set them loose in the dorm. Cheka 2.0.

 Lillia had taken to looking after Mc. This wasn’t his first rodeo. Despite the fact he looks like a vampire, he befriended tiny Mc relatively quickly. He is, after all, a parent himself and knew how to calm down a crying child. Mc picked up his paternal vibes and now they're besties. Lilia loves to coo at the Diasmonia boys, “Oh this takes me back. I remember you all were this small.” They have to hide Mc at snack time though

“Uncle Lilia is going to go make you some mac and cheese!” he exclaimed before leaving.

Silver scooped up Mc and ran for it. 

“But I want Mac and cheese!”

“Trust me, no you don’t.”

Malleus, like Jack, wouldn't hold it against Mc if they were afraid of him. But part of him really didn't want to find out if that was the case. Sure normal Mc wasn't scared of him, but he didn't really want to see five year old them sobbing at his presence like they had with some of the other students. Lilia had prepared for this though. "See that tall horned fellow over there? He really wants to be your friend. He doesn't get invited out to play very often and it make him sad. So I think it would be very nice if you invited him."

Mc wasn't very sure, but if Lilia said it, it had to be the case, right? So Mc took whatever toys they had been playing with and cautiously walked up to him. "Um...excuse Mr. Malleus sir. Um...do you want to play with me?" They held out the toy him and Malleus was surprised, but gladly accepted.

When Mc finally turned back to normal, everyone was so relieved. For one they didn’t have to feel like they were walking on eggshells around them anymore, and they no longer had to babysit. Mcs memories of the past several days were hazy at best. But the sight of Floyd scooping them up and seeing row of sharp teeth was vividly familiar. “Were you bored without me, Floyd?”

“You were no fun small, Shrimpy.”

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idk i was a cry baby as a kid #if i was reverted to my child self around them i would have just sobbed

[beachbabey]

Rhett sees his bunny in lingerie for the first time

Warnings: allusions to smut

Word Count: 657

You ordered the set online whilst he was away at a rodeo as a welcome home surprise, but you knew he’d be exhausted when he came home and so decided to keep it stowed away for another moment.

Nothing too extravagant, a pale lavender two-piece with a matching garter belt and some white stockings with small, dainty floral designs embroidered onto them, so delicate you doubted you could get them on without ripping the thin material.

It’s a Sunday morning, Rhett, who even on the weekend finds something to do around the house, doesn’t see you scamper to the en suite, sneaking the sheer satin bag in with you, slipping into everything and applying a little lipstick and mascara, pulling your bathrobe over the ensemble and tying the belt so no skin would be visible. 

“Rhett?” You yelled out

“Yeah?”

“Can you come here for a sec?”

You hear an affirming hum in return before the sound of feet padding the wooden floors comes a stop a few feet away from you 

“That time of the month babe? You need me to run to the store?”

“N-no it’s not that” you stutter out, second thinking your plan

What if he was in the middle of something? Is lavender really the best colour for this?? Oh god, what if you don’t actually suit it?

“Are you hurt? Can you open the door for me please?” If you weren’t a ball of nerves you’d roll your eyes, Rhett couldn’t go a day without worrying about something

“No! I’m- I’m not hurt, it’s just- are you busy?” You called timidly from behind the door

“It can wait doll, what do you need?” His tone evened out as soon as you confirmed you were okay.

“Can you….go sit on the bed for me?”

Once you hear his footsteps recede, you slowly open the bathroom door and peek your head out.

Rhett, who has the audacity to look like a sin on a Sunday morning, in his jeans and a thin sweater, sits with his legs slightly spread, his hands clasped and resting in his lap. His eyes trained on you, cocking his head a little to the side to mimic your own

“Hi honey” he coos glowing at the sight of your shy, owlish expression, trying to gently coax you out from behind the doorframe with his soft smile

“Hi, baby….I- Can I show you something?” You asked.

Rhett smiled, nodded and reached out his arms to you, making grabby hands with a boisterous grin appearing. You giggle softly at his silly antics and approach him getting close enough for his hands to cradle your hips and place you in between his legs before your figure freezes up, your anxiety not allowing you to continue.

“Is it under here baby?” He hummed, his thumbs running along your hip bones. You nodded slowly, fiddling nervously with the curls at the back of his head, keeping your head down. He cranes his neck to meet your eyes, gently tugging on the belt, silently asking you for permission, with no resistance from you, he gently loosens the tie and lets the robe fall from your shoulders and down to the floor, all the while you resisted the urge to bolt out of the room 

He gasps softly, eyes zeroing in on your chest shamelessly, you let him slowly push you away to take in all of you in the little pastel number, hands ghosting over the innocent-looking tights, your face starting to burn up in embarrassment before being suddenly pulled down to straddle one of his thighs, he chuckles deeply at the way it makes you squeak in surprise, gripping onto his shoulders as you finally look at him

“You’re so good to me, my pretty little bunny, dressing up all pretty like this, it’s a shame though”

“Why’s that?” You question

 “Now I just want to rip it off of you.”

#I’m on my knees for this man if you couldn’t tell #I’m so normal about him #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott #outer range #Lewis Pullman

[heartfullofleeches]

Cowboys have invaded my mind. How we rockin with rodeo clown darling and yan cowboy. Or maybe even yan!bandit and barkeep darling.

(Why not all of the above? Yandere Cowboy/Bandit X Odd jobs Reader. Reader is G.N, but there's a use of missus as a joke)

Sweat pours down your face as the stadium doors close behind you; every atom within crying for rest. The large animal behind the gates rams into them a few times, before its handlers drag it away. You wipe your brows; white makeup smearing across your hand. The crowd still laughs at your performance, but it's the last thing you think about. No matter how many times you did that, it never got easier.

All on your own in a town in the middle of nowhere; you had to work countless jobs to get buy. Shop keep; house help, and many others. It was a place that turned a blind eye to legal certificates, so as long as you did your job well you'd get to stay. Rodeo clown was one of the longest running; started all way back when you were first strapped for cash.

With some basic training from the other clowns, you were ushered out the door and into the face of the crowd. You had your beginner's scrapes and bruises, but became not too bad overtime.

"You a little winded there, stripes?"

A horse trots up beside you. It's owner tips his hat as you with a little grin. The cowboy untied the bandana from his neck and passes it off to you, sweeping the specks of dirt off before he hands it over. You take it and dab at your forehead.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, sugar."

He joined the show just a little while after you. An out of towner who popped in and out of the rodeo's tent whenever he pleased. You'd seen him about town right before he'd leave again; joking that he couldn't leave without seeing your pretty face or stocking up at the store when you were on your shift. Whenever he was around, he was good so no one complained besides when he was coming back.

Knox was the name he went by. Nobody knew if that was his real name, and nobody asked. All the boss carried about was that he was good with a lasso.

Speaking of that man, you both hear shouting from the other side of the barn.

"Why on God's green earth I know of any suspects? I wouldn't have called you if I knew who this son of a bitch was."

You both head over. Your boss was "chatting" with the local sheriff; his face inches away from the others as he shouted. Knox has to turn away to stop himself from laughing at the annoyance in the poor man's eye. Noticing you, the sheriff looks your way.

"Evening, folks? You seen anything strange around here lately?

"No, sir."Knox chuckles, throwing an arm over your shoulder." Me and the Missus here were just heading to have some alone time in the boss' office."

You playful shove him off. "Cut it out."

Your boss' face turns best red. "This ain't the time to be joking. I ain't letting any of you thieves in my office again."

"Theives?" You repeat.

The sheriff speaks up. "Your boss here says his safe had been broken in to. Fortunately it seems all that was in it was his personal errandings and all the important papers are at home, but it was a lot of bills."

"When I get my hands on that bastard... Where were you two early this morning?"

You quickly vouch for yourself. "I was at the convenience store until noon."

"They were. I hung around outside for a little while. Fallin asleep on the job like the angel they are."

Knox pokes your rubber nose. It was true. You saw him lingering on the porch of the store, pacing around or kicking empty cans. He did that quite often when he didn't come in. Just standing there; looking at you when he thought you wouldn't notice. Come to think of it, you saw him at a lot of your jobs. With the thought of work on your mind, you panic.

"Oh shoot, what time is it? I'll be late for my shift at the bar."

"About six thirty. Gone on ahead." The sheriff says.

"Now hold on a minute."Your boss cuts in. "Nobody is leaving until we get this solved."

He steps toward you both, but Knox blocks him; towering over the older man. His grin never leaves his face, but it quirks ever so slightly.

"Y/n is going to head out. They've got business to take care of, and you aren't getting in their way."

Your boss huffy, but keeps his mouth shut. Knox signals for you to leave.

"Go. I'll see you later."

-

A shower and change later, you head over to the bar; your final job of the day. It was one of the best for tips, if some didn't make you feel dirty when taking them. For the most part it was a decent place to relax amongst the mellow chatter between customers and the noise from whatever act was going on that night.

As you clean a glass and chat up a regular, a familiar face pops through the door. Knox removes his coat as he saunters over the counter, dropping it over the back of the seat the customer was in.

"You're in my spot."

The man shoots daggers, but slides over into the neighborhood seat. He tries to continue talking with you, but Knox taps on the table to get your attention; ordering his preferred drink as he smirks at you.

"I always forget how cute you are without that makeup, stripes."

"We were talking, pal." The man slurs.

"And now your conversation is over. Y/n can I get rid of this clown?"

"You aren't security, plus we'll lose all our customers if you make everyone leave." You say this as the customer gets up and leaves. Knox chuckles.

"Aw come, Y/n. You know you're the only clown anyone needs!" He stares at the glass you place in front of him; voice lowering. "Which is why I've come to ask you that question again."

You stop pouring liquor in the glass, placing the bottle on the table. Every once in a while, Knox would ask you to leave town with him; like a reaper knocking on a stubborn old man's door. You barely knew the man's name the first time he asked; promising you the life of your dreams.

Whenever he was in town, he'd sleep at an inn; telling you all about the nice place he had miles away. He wanted to take you there, were you could live comfortably and away from the stress of it all. He was normally flat out drunk when he said this, but tonight he hadn't taken a single sip.

"Knox.. You know my answer." You had responsibilities; friends. You couldn't just up and abandon all that for a man with with past you didn’t know. Knox sighs; bouncing his leg on the ground to calm his nerves. This place wasn't good enough for you, and he was going to make you see that someday.

"You say that now, Y/n, but one day your gonna be mine. This little town will be the last thing on your mind." He grabs a bill from his pocket, slamming it on the table.

You... recognized this bill. A scribbled on twenty you got as a tip after after show at the rodeo before your boss stole it out of your hands. "Too much for a show monkey." As he joked.

"Knox... Where did you?"

Knox already at the door with his coat over his shoulder and hat tilted in hand. He winks at you.

"See you around, Y/n."

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere imagines #Yandere Bandit #Yandere cowboy #yandere fic #yandere writing #yandere oneshot

[delopsia]

Update: I was slightly wrong on the specifics; Wabang's hard-to-see map places it about an hour East of Grand Teton! Click here to find that explanation.

A question I commonly hear floating around is this.

Where the hell is Wabang located?

My obnoxious answer? Grand Teton, Wyoming.

Let me convince you.

It's not outright stated in the show, but the mountains we occasionally see in the background are the Grand Tetons. We learn this via a CGW article stating that CGI was used to add them in post-production. This article also details a lot of the subtle changes the team made to the show; it's a fun read.

Sidebar: if you're interested, Outpost VFX has this incredible post detailing some of their CGI work for the show!

An iconic feature of the Grand Teton mountains is the T.A. Moulton Barn, with the Tetons perfectly backdropped behind it.

Now look at the Abbott barn.

Look familiar? It's not identical, but one could argue that it's heavily inspired by the T.A. Moulton Barn.

Is the background a bit different? Yes. But those are almost certainly the Tetons behind the Abbott house.

Which leads me to believe that Wabang is located close to, if not within, the Teton mountain ranges.

They have the backdrop, they have the barn, and the otherworldly, alternate universe aspect makes it possible that in this world, an early generation of the Abbotts built this iconic barn, and it is still in use.

Meaning that Wabang, Wyoming, is likely set to be right here, in the Northwestern region of the state.

This also implies that for Rhett to have gotten this jacket (assuming he attended the event himself and didn't buy it secondhand), he drove roughly 430 miles (or 860, round trip) to participate in a Rough Stock labor day rodeo in White Sulphur Springs, Montana.

I can't figure out if the jacket is dated 2016 or 2018, but regardless, that's a hell of a fucking drive for a rodeo. Talk about some dedication.

Anyways, thank you for joining another tin hat episode from yours truly, I'll be here all week 💃

#del's tin hat thoughts #outer range #rhett abbott #del's theories #but is it a theory?

[applesontheground]

mirage 🎠

here go the first of my three vignettes for my fave horror protags of 2022, the haywoods + their adopted mentally unstable retail worker (angel).

first up is my fuckin cowboy... ❤

SFW | Word Count: 832 | OJ Haywood x GN Reader 🎼: x (OF COURSE I HAVE A NOPE PLAYLIST THIS MOVIE STILL STICKS TO MY BRAIN-)

You considered the fact that there were many people before you who spent too much time alone out in somewhere so arid and so silent and would start seeing things after awhile.

...Hearing things, though?

You stared at the sky for another long pause, hands still on the fence that kept your boyfriend's horses secured as you tried to catch that noise again. It wasn't an animal kind of screaming, one that mountain lions or even strange birds would be so close to calling. Nothing like an imitation.

It was a person, a person who was experiencing a deep sense of danger. How the hell it sounded as though it came spiraling from the sky, you weren't sure. That's what was making your slog around in your usual chores come to a halt in the first place to hear it again.

"[Y/N]." Speaking of your boyfriend, you heard the mellow hum from the other side of the pen, "[Guy/girl], you good?" When you didn't answer yet, raising a hand to quiet him as you kept listening, you then realized you were being silly.

Your eyes fell to your shoes, and you huffed, “J, you’d tell me if I was crazy, right?” From the other side of the fence, he mumbled, “Mm hm.”

You turned to him, and clarified, “OJ, really. I’m not the only one hearing shit, right?” His eyes cast over to you, chin settled on one arm as he merely let that question sit in the air. Your eyes slid from his, combing through your mind one last time before he finally replied, “No, [Y/N]. Sometimes I hear it, too. Sounds too much like us to be any animal.”

He then mosied over, minding the pacing horses to stand next to you from the other side of the gate. You slid across the hot surface that had been baking in the sun, settling your shoulder against the part of his arm that was now leaning over it. He was stock still as you looked at the sky with him and you murmured, “Is it the wind? We don’t get any animals this far out that can mimic like that, right?”

He hummed again, but then gently nodded with his head to the blemish almost straight ahead of the two of you in the plain horizon, fairly visible from where you two stood at the edge of the first corral by the house out at the Haywood Ranch. OJ commented, “Think it’s that rodeo show he puts on. All that alien shit, maybe it's some kind of special effect.”

You caught the circle of tall lightposts out in the dust, the two of you watching now in a stale silence. It wasn’t the usual peace that OJ and you would share, sometimes for hours on end (which drove his sister Emerald crazy whenever she found the time to visit the two of you), but more like a heavy rock settled in your stomach that came from knowing what that neighboring park represented.

The owner had been making deals even before OJ had taken over his family business with Em and it was still their father in charge. He knew he had the prices to not only push the Haywoods off this part of the land that they had lived on for so long, but also take their family's horses with it. You didn’t even know the guy’s name, but according to Em he had been a child star trying to chase after the glory, the money…whatever it was he had lost back then.

It still made you desolate at times to realize Otis had never gotten to be your father in law. A freak accident had happened only a few months ago, and you were only left with word of mouth from the paramedics who had tried to save him, and the consolation that you could muster as someone just as wordless as your boyfriend, especially in grief. You assured yourself that it was more because you and OJ were in no hurry to take your relationship to something more serious, even without his father here now.

OJ’s hand moved from the fence, sliding back to the top of it to go around your shoulder, still mute as he put his arm around the back of your neck. You slid even closer, gently knocking your head next to his, like it’d help you know what he was thinking.

“I’ll do whatever I can to keep you from selling those horses.” You sighed, “I don’t know how, but I want them to stay here with you. With Em, with the family.” You expected no answer, but he finally spoke just above that hum again.

“Hm-hm. You know I'm a firm believer in the real being real." He shook his head, making your own nudge slightly as you smiled to him, "It's not always recognized right away, but when time comes. I'm sure."

You hummed at that.

"I like that idea."

#oj haywood x reader #final boy x reader #✏️ #🎠

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

here to stay | rhett abbott x oc

Summary: Tessa and Riley go to the rodeo. Rhett invites them to go to the bonfire after. (wc: 7062)

Warnings: possible rodeo inaccuracies (im trying my best), royal abbott makes an appearance, rhett being flirty, flashbacks, alcohol mention, background ocs

✎……PREVIOUS CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || NEXT CHAPTER

The Amelia County Fairgrounds were always busy the night of a rodeo. With not much else to do, residents of Wabang paid five bucks a ticket to come watch cowboys from all over compete for the grand prize in their category — and the chance to move on to the next stage in the season.

As one of the main draws for the town, the rodeo coordinators made sure the place looked nice. Bulb lights strung up around the concessions area and outdoor riding pit. Turned on long before the sun went down and kept that way long after it set. Concessions were always well stocked with the usual fair commodities; deep fried anything and nachos mostly. Any kind of souvenir you could think of was available at what was most likely a jacked-up price. Sweatshirts and stetsons, big belt buckles and necklaces on twine for a bit of Western flair. And of course, they made sure every event was easy for those out-of-towners to find. Pole bending and barrel racing in the barn pavilions on the east side — bull riding and calf roping in the main arena. 

The fairgrounds were teeming with life by the time Tessa paid for her ticket and walked inside. A sea of cowboy hats and trucker caps weaving amongst themselves. Getting their popcorn and trying to decide what events to watch. Tessa smiled, taking it all in for a moment. The loud chatter and country music, smells of deep-fried Oreos and leather. It had been so long since she was able to go to a rodeo. Her work schedule was so busy and on her days off she usually had personal chores that needed taking care of. 

Not tonight, though. Tonight, she was at the rodeo without a worry in her mind. And it felt relaxing in some way, despite the noise and the energy of the place. A smile overcame her as she weaved her way through the people, toward the funnel cake stand.

She knew without a doubt that she would beat Riley there. No matter what her friend did, she was always late. Didn’t matter the pre-planning or promises to be on time or even early. But she always showed up — even if it was fifteen to twenty minutes late every time. Maybe Tessa would get a funnel cake to occupy her time.

But as she walked, hands shoved in her Carhartt pockets, she bumped into someone. Her shoulder knocked into their arm, throwing off her balance. A hand shot out to steady her. 

“Oh, m’sorry!” she apologized immediately, looking up into their face. 

It was Royal Abbott. All hard lines and furrowed brows. His goatee beard greyed and hiding a frown. Hat pulled low over his brown eyes that looked down at her now with an expression she couldn’t quite read. She could see Rhett in him clearly, even more so now than when they were in high school. They held that same kind of quiet, that same kind of hardness. For a moment, as she looked up at him wide-eyed, all she could think about was Linda’s story — but then it quickly faded from her mind. Because that’s all it was. A story. 

Royal let go of her elbow with a grunt.

“No problem. How’s your dad doin’?” he asked courteously, voice a rough gravel low in his throat.

Tessa was taken aback. She didn’t think he would remember her, much like his son. She also didn’t think he would remember her father’s surgery a few years ago. But then again, the ranchers of cattle and horses alike in Wabang were a tight-knit group. Chatting at feed stores and bars, sitting down over cups of coffee at Odessa’s with hats on the table and dirt under their fingernails. Hard-working men, each and every one. 

“He’s like a new man since the knee replacement,” she replied with a small grin.

“Glad t’hear it.” Royal glanced around the rodeo grounds. “You still doin’ any racin’?”

“Nah, I quit after high school.”

“Shame, y’were good.”

Tessa didn’t know how to respond to that. And never did. Everyone in Wabang always said that. That she was good, that she shouldn’t have given it up. But just because she was talented didn’t mean she wanted to do it forever. She had other goals she wanted to achieve. And riding in rodeos every weekend, traveling all the time, would have prevented her from doing the things she really wanted to do. There were more important things than blue ribbons and curving barrels. She didn’t want that to be her life.

“Well, good t’see ya, kid. Tell y’r mom and dad I said hi.” Royal patted her on the shoulder with a closed-lip smile. “Have’a good night.” 

“Thanks, you too,” she said. 

Then he walked away, towards the trailers where the bull riders liked to hang out before their appointed time slots. Tessa’s heart seemed to skip a beat as she watched him for a moment. Right. Rhett would be here tonight. He might see her this time, give her a wave or even a smile. She wanted to slap herself. 

Now that they what? Talked once? Jesus Christ. It was like she was suddenly fourteen again and going weak in the knees at the mere sight of him. She was better than that. Had grown past that. They were adults now. It didn’t matter that he was still cute and it didn’t matter that her stomach was no filled with the flapping of wings. She wouldn’t fall for it again. It hurt too much all those years ago to let it.

Tessa shook her head and got in line for funnel cake.

After tearing through nearly a fourth of the deep-fried fair food, fingers sticky, and lips covered in powdered sugar, Riley finally arrived. Bumping into her friend’s shoulder from behind with a grin. Riley looked as beautiful as ever. No need for makeup that she never wanted to put on anyway. Hair dark and curly, laying on her shoulders softly. She stood nearly a head taller than Tessa, confident with shoulders back and a smirk on her face. They laughed and embraced, Tessa trying not to get funnel cake everywhere as they swayed from side to side and spouted their I missed yous. It really had been too long since they were able to see each other.

“I jus’don’t see why ya recommended this whole book series t’me for her t’not end up with Dara,” Riley said as they headed east towards the barn pavilions.

Tessa held up the funnel cake between them so they could share. “Because it’s good. I like her’n Ali together.” 

“It is good — but…Dara could’ve at least stayed!”

“Did ya cry?” Tessa questioned with a small smile.

Riley looked straight ahead, eyes narrowed. “Maybe a little.”

“I was ballin’ m’eyes out after I finished the last one.”

“‘Course you were.” Riley smiled as they passed by the trailers used for hauling bulls. “At three AM?”

“You know it,” Tessa laughed.

And she was about to go on, tell the story of how she sat and stared at the wall for a good ten minutes before she could go on with the book’s epilogue, when she ran directly into a solid chest. Her face smashed into their torso, now empty funnel cake plate clattering to the ground. The liquid heat of embarrassment licked at her cheeks as she stumbled back a bit.

How many people was she going to run into today?

“Sorry! I — sorry, I — I thought y’saw me,” a quiet, low voice rumbled out as a hand grabbed her elbow to steady her. 

Tessa knew that voice. Had heard it only a few days before on the front porch of the Boy’s Home. That sting and that thrill ran through her like a dam was just broken — the river rushing down her spine as she looked up into his face. Rhett Abbott’s face. Eyes big and blue, darkened by the fading light. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth. He wore green plaid and his riding vest, chaps slung low around his hips, and stetson perched on his head. He somehow looked even better like this. In his element. Rough and ready — the dirt kicked up from the pit already clinging to his sweaty face.

How many Abbotts was she going to run into today?

“I-I didn’t. Sorry,” she finally managed to answer, clearing her throat as she looked down at his boots.

Rhett ran his thumb over her bicep before letting go of her arm. “S’alright. How ya doin’?”

Tessa glanced over at Riley. Who stood off to the side looking between the two of them with raised, intrigued brows. She had yet to mention that she talked to Rhett a few days before. That she suddenly remembered her crush and her heartache and just how handsome he still was. That he smiled when he said her name and it made her heart race just like when she was fourteen.

That she felt her heart beating wildly at that very moment as she looked back up at Rhett. No. She wouldn’t act like she did back then. In school when it felt like if anyone even so much as looked at her she wanted to die. Retreating in on herself as self-preservation, taking no risks, staying invisible. Tessa knew intimately the kind of regret that could grow from that seed. They would talk for a few minutes and then move on with their lives. It was just like talking with anyone else. 

“Good.” Lifting her head, she smiled — and he blinked at her, his own grin only growing. “Had the day off n’Riley invited me. Should be fun.”

“Good, good…” he trailed off, fingers fidgeting with the frays of his chaps.

“You? How you been?” she asked, remembering her manners.

“Fine, jus’workin’.” Rhett wiped at his mouth, as he shifted his weight. “Um, I’ride in about an hour…If ya wanna watch.”

“‘Course! Wouldn’t wanna miss local boy Rhett Abbott ride,” she laughed and he looked down at his feet. “Just gonna catch a bit’a the barrel racin’. Used to do that in — “

“I know,” Rhett said, something sincere and open in his face. “I — I remember.”

No matter how much she didn’t want to feel it, she couldn’t stop the sweet burn of being remembered in some way from piercing her heart.

“Well, uh — see ya in an hour, I guess.” Tessa grinned, inching away towards Riley so they could start walking away from him and away from the building heat in her chest. 

“There’s gonna be a bonfire. After. Out in the east pasture. You — “ He glanced at Riley and blinked hard as if suddenly remembering she was even there. “You guys should come.” 

The fire crackled and burned, flames licking at the inky black sky. Smoke rose in ringlets and danced up, up, up to the stars. Ashes landed on her lap — the final resting place of the logs used to fuel the flame. In the darkness just beyond the fire’s light, young people mingled and danced to the portable radio someone had brought. Drinks were passed around. Stories and laughter were shared. And Tessa stared into the flames, unable to look away even though her face felt like it was burning hot.

Really, she just didn’t want to see Rhett Abbott or the girl he had walked off into the woods with.

She knew, deep down somewhere, that there was never any chance. That he would never notice her. Who was she kidding, getting her hopes up? Why would he take any interest in the quiet girl who preferred horses to people and sat alone at bonfires — too afraid her drunk friends would get out of hand for her to even drink? But no matter how much she tried to think logically. About him being none-the-wiser and how she could barely speak two words to him anyway. Her heart still ached. Tears still built in her eyes, smearing the roaring flame into blurred shapes of orange and yellow.

What she wasn’t willing to admit to herself, however, was that she didn’t care that it was Rhett. That it was Olivia Barlow who had taken his hand with a soft giggle and a bit lip smile. That they were probably off in the woods swapping spit or more. It didn’t matter that it was Rhett and it didn’t matter that it was Olivia. It just wasn’t her.

Because really, in her heart of hearts, Tessa just wanted to be wanted. 

And that was all. 

“We’ll think about it,” Riley answered for them with a closed-mouth smile. “Come on, we’re gonna miss the racin’.”

Then she took Tessa’s elbow and pulled her away. Scooping up the dropped plate as she went. Tessa looked back at Rhett one more time, who had turned to watch them leave — expression unreadable. So much like his father. But his blue eyes shone like gems in the dying light of day.

“The hell was that?” Riley questioned in a harsh whisper, tossing the paper plate into the nearest trash bin. 

“I don’know.” Tessa shrugged, funnel cake suddenly wanting to make a reappearance. 

“Y’r face is givin’ you away. Y’re all red.” 

With a groan, Tessa told her friend the whole story. About the clothing donation and Rhett not remembering her and their small conversation on the porch. How it was nice and she didn’t think much of it besides how pleased her inner fourteen-year-old self felt. And by the time her tale was finished, Tessa going over their parting words, they had entered the barn pavilion where their high school graduation was held. Only now it was filled to the brim with a captive audience, barrels set up on the show floor, and a young girl on a black mare curving around them at high speeds.

“That’s it — so, I’don’know, I’guess we’re friends now?” Tessa felt like she was shouting, struggling to be heard over the crowd as they cheered on the racer. “S’just one conversation.” 

Riley took the lead in going up into the stands. They sat down at the end of a row with a good view of the show floor. The black mare and her rider had just finished, the girl waving to the crowd as she trotted off back into the stables. Her smile was small and tight. Tessa looked at the scoreboard, and it made sense. She only ever smiled like that when she didn’t do as well as she wanted, too. 

“Up next, Addie Zoglmann from Deadwood, South Dakota!” the announcer spoke over the crackling speaker. 

“Well, he clearly doesn’t wanna be jus’friends with ya,” Riley said, eyes focused on the barrels getting reset for the next rider. 

“What?” Tessa blinked owlishly at her. 

“Oh, com’on, Tess, seriously? Could literally see the hearts’n his eyes.” 

“We talked once!”

“Yeah, n’ he finally realized y’re beautiful n’ kind n’ smart an’ve been here the whole time.”

Heat pooled in Tessa’s cheeks at the compliments, barely believing them. “Shut up. Y’ve been readin’ too many romance books.”

“At the very least he wants in y’r pants,” she muttered. 

“Riley, oh, my God! He does not!”

“He does too. Could see it clear as day. ‘Cause, ya know, I had’a front row seat t’that — “ She gestured in front of herself. “Whole interaction.”

The heat only grew, spilling down her neck as she hid her face in her hands. The announcer called the next rider’s number and she blasted out of the chute, hunched low over her horse’s neck and spurring her on even faster. Rounding the first barrel with ease.

“Was it really that bad?” Tessa finally mumbled quietly through her fingers. 

“S’like a fuckin’ train wreck. Couldn’t stop watchin’.”

“Oh, God.”

“And Jesus Christ, too,” Riley added. 

They both laughed, Tessa drawing her hands away from her face. She didn’t know if she fully believed what Riley said. That Rhett looked…Interested in her. To her, it just felt like a slightly awkward conversation between acquaintances. Not even friends.

Did she want him to be interested? Did she want him to look at her with hearts in his eyes and like he wanted to get in her pants? If anything, it was most likely the latter. She knew about his reputation. Mostly from the rumors that Laney liked to gossip about. The buckle bunnies and the drinking. But Tessa knew to take any story that Laney brought up with a grain of salt. Or a lot of salt really. The grapevine in Wabang did wonders or criminal offenses to a person’s reputation. And sure, maybe he did sleep around and maybe he did drink a little too much, but she could see good in him. Something quiet but earnest. So different from the boy she was infatuated with in high school. Now he was a man she barely knew and had spoken with twice. How could she possibly know if she would want his attention? 

But the attention he had given her so far felt nice. Felt like she was special. An anomaly he couldn’t quite figure out but was determined to do so. It felt something like being wanted.

What she still so desperately craved. Even after all these years, even after so much growth. She still looked at her sister’s relationship with a pang of envy. She still looked at her coworker, alone and bitter, and feared it was her fate.

She still yearned to be wanted — and to want in return.

A few more riders shot across the show floor. An impressive display of power and speed as they turned sharply around the barrels, trying to do it faster than everyone before them. The energy of the pavilion, the crowd, the event on the floor — it was electric. Everyone cheered loudest for the local girls. All of whom Tessa knew, some even from her days on the rodeo team. Screaming their names and stamping their feet on the metal stands.

But Tessa and Riley couldn’t stay to watch first place get her ribbon. Addie Zoglmann from South Dakota. They had to start making their way over to the main, outdoor arena in order to catch Rhett Abbott’s ride. She said she wasn’t going to miss it. And Tessa liked to keep her word.

“You think we should go t’the bonfire?” Tessa questioned as they walked, paying extra-close attention so she wouldn’t run into anyone else.

“I don’know. Wadda you wanna do?” Riley asked back as she popped a piece of gum in her mouth. 

“Not make a decision right now.” Her answer was honest, delivered with a sighing laugh that made her friend affectionately roll her dark eyes. 

“Yeah, alright.” Riley added another piece of gum to her mouth. “We’ll go f’r a minute, check it out, at least. Please y’r lil’ lover boy.” 

Tessa made a face. “Ugh, don’call him my lover boy.”

“Jus’ callin’ it as I see it,” she laughed.

“Yeah, well, he’s not so…” Tessa trailed off, looking south to the riding pit and the rodeo clowns herding the bull back into the pen. 

It was just a joke. Tessa knew that. But it didn’t stop something from aching deep in her chest.

“But he could be,” Riley pointed out gently, “If ya’d jus’loosen up and stop thinkin’ so negative about y’rself.”

That was another thing about Riley Lopez. She always told the people she cared about the truth. Even if they didn’t want to hear it. Tessa glared up at her, though there was no real bite behind it, as they ascended the stairs up into the stands. Riley only grinned down at her before taking the lead to find them a seat.

“Alright folks, here’s number three-one-six — Rhett Abbott — on Bones!” the announcer called. 

Tessa and Riley stood up as they cheered, along with a few others in the crowd. Including Rhett’s family. His mom and dad, his older brother Perry and his wife, Tessa couldn’t remember her name, and their daughter. A little blonde girl Tessa saw getting picked up from school from time to time when she was there to get one of the boys. They cheered for Rhett loudly with thunderous claps. That little girl screaming loudest of all for her uncle. It made Tessa smile. 

The gate burst open as the timer buzzed its starting and the bull jumped into the riding pit. Dust went flying into the air as the great hooves stomped into the earth. The Abbott family continued to cheer and encourage. Tessa waited on bated breath. She always hated watching the bull riding. During one high school rodeo, some poor Nebraska boy got his chest stomped in. She could still hear the collective gasp, the crunching of bone, the parents’ screams. The boy lived, with a metal plate in his chest and a hobble for the rest of his life, but the memory wasn’t something that Tessa could shake herself of easily. Saw it flash before her eyes even then as the bull groaned furiously and did everything it could to shake Rhett off. But he was glued to the bull’s back with his hand raised high above his head. Rocking with each movement, with each spin. His face turned down, focused on the bull's neck.

But it wasn’t enough. With only five seconds on the clock, Rhett was thrown from the bull. Tumbling off the back and landing on his spine with a great cloud of dust.

“Yikes, bet that hurt,” Riley muttered.

Tessa didn’t reply. Too focused on Rhett still laying in the dirt. His hat had been thrown off. Laid several feet away from him as he stared up at the sky. No doubt the wind had been knocked out of him. His lungs struggling from the shock. Bones had already stamped away and was now being herded back into the chute for Rhett’s second ride. Then he slammed his fist into the ground — frustrated — and he sat up. The crowd cheered quietly at the fact he was alright. He rose to his feet and nodded at the crowd with a closed-mouth smile, something similar to the one Tessa would give when she knew she didn’t do well, then picked up his hat.

“Nothin’ he’s not used to, I’guess,” Tessa sighed, feeling like her heart was trying to beat right out of her chest.

They sat back down as the next rider was announced. Rhett wouldn’t go again until the other ten riders before him had gone. Out of the corner of her eye, Tessa saw Royal Abbott heading down from the stands and towards the pen where the bull riders were held in waiting.

So far, Rhett wasn’t even on the leaderboard. And Tessa remembered all too well that, despite his father’s encouragement and applause, his boy was never doing enough. 

She walked proudly through the rodeo grounds with that first-place ribbon pinned to her shirt. It was big and blue and glossy, shining underneath the lights. She was just glad her whole family could make it to this one. Even Rachel got to see her ride, though she seemed a little less than impressed and could really only comment on how dirty her pants had gotten.

The grounds were quiet, the animals all rounded up and put in their trailers for the drive home, and only a few other contestants milled around. But she forgot her bag in the stables again, and she didn’t want to leave everyone waiting. Shiloh had a baby on her hip after all, one that was downright exhausted and whiney. 

Passing by the riding pit on her way, she saw Rhett Abbott standing at the metal fence with his head down — hands shoved into his jean pockets like he was trying to hide as much of himself as possible. And from the way his father was looming over him, she could understand why. Royal had his hat in his hand, gesturing out into the riding pit and talking in a low quiet voice. Worse than getting yelled at. Getting talked to. 

Rhett glanced at her as she walked past. A red ribbon stood out in stark contrast to his black riding vest. She only caught a fragment of what Royal was saying.

“Are ya even takin’ this seriously? By the time I was y’r age I was placin’ first every time…”

Disappointment disguised as encouragement. Harsh words spoken by a well-intended father. 

Tessa kept on walking.

Bones was back in the chute and Rhett was slowly lowering himself onto his wide back. The bull screamed and jerked within the metal bars. Rhett slipped his gloved hand around the handle, wrapped the rope tight around his knuckles and pounded his hand into a fist around it all. A tight grip, sealing him to the bull completely. Tessa and Riley got back to their feet.

“Rhett Abbott, number three-one-six, with his second ride of the evening.” 

The timer buzzed and the gate flung open just as the bull leaped into the air. Bones spun in circles, kicking his back legs, tilting himself nearly vertically to try and get Rhett off. And for a moment, hand clutching at Riley’s jacket sleeve, she thought it was enough. That he was going to stay on just long enough and get onto the leaderboard. 

At seven seconds, however, Rhett fell. Caught himself on his right wrist as Bones stamped dangerously close to his head. Tessa gasped. That was so close. Billy from Nebraska all over again only ten times worse.

“That sucks. Wh’t’s that mean, Tess?” Riley questioned as she sat back down. 

But Tessa waited until Rhett got back to his feet. Until he was being herded away by the rodeo guys, shaking out his wrist. He didn’t smile at the crowd. Kept his head down and the brim of his stetson covering his face.

Only then did she sit back down on the cold metal stands. “Means his season’s over. He’s not advancin’.”

“Oh, that really sucks.”

“Yeah. I’does.”

Rhett hiked his leg over the metal fence and swung over to the other side. He didn’t walk back to the holding pen. Instead, he headed straight for the medical tent. Not giving anyone a second glance.

The pasture east just beyond the Amelia County Fairgrounds was a dark sea of freshly cut forage. Cast in shades of blue by the moon hung waxing high in the sky. The stars bright and bountiful, like an audience gathered to watch the show going ever on and on upon the earth so far below.

All was quiet now that the rodeo was over. The hanging bulb lights had been turned off and the animals were all asleep in their pens, waiting to be transported home. Only a few vehicles remained in the lot. Scattered about the edges. The show was winding down. 

Until a bright orange light sparked to life in the east pasture. Warm and intriguing. Just beyond the windrows and back by the edge of the forest. A whoop and a holler echoed through the empty blue as the light expanded. Illuminating all the cars and trucks that had driven through the field to get close.

Soon enough, music kicked up with a round of applause. Luke Bryan and Kenny Chesney — stuff good for dancing close and singing along to while drinking too much. 

A classic Dirty Bang Bonfire was starting up. The stars settled in for the show — shown just that bit brighter in the infinite Wyoming sky. This was going to be fun.

Tessa couldn’t help but have dissimilar thoughts as she got out of her car and approached the already roaring flames. Stuck close to Riley’s side, who seemed calm and self-assured, Tessa wished she felt the same. Instead, her insides rolled with nerves and her palms accumulated a layer of sweat she kept having to wipe off. Parties like this were never her style. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t’ve come,” she spoke quietly as they hovered on the edge of the gathering. 

She knew every face cast in orange light. All of them people they went to high school with and had stuck around their little town. Talking in their little groups with drinks in hand. Groups that didn’t intermingle with theirs in high school. It just seemed like everyone had their place. Everyone knew where they fit — except for Tessa and Riley.

Except Tessa in truth. Riley was good in a crowd. Always had been. While Tessa stayed glued to the background. Set decoration. Preferring to observe rather than participate out of fear. Fear of what she wasn’t quite sure of anymore. Did she really care all that much about what these people thought of her anymore? She supposed she didn’t. But old habits died hard it seemed as her heart pounded in her chest at the thought of just mere mingling. 

“Just a few minutes,” Riley said with a shrug, hands shoved in her jacket pockets. “We’ll grab’a drink from one’a the coolers layin’ around. Talk some shit. Then we’ll leave. Easy.” 

“Easy,” Tessa hummed in reply as she looked around. 

The Tillersons were there. All grouped up by the fire with a girl under each of their arms. They were all laughing about some story that Billy was telling. Everyone except the girl with Trevor, who just looked uncomfortable. And Tessa couldn’t blame her. A shiver, sharp as ice, went down her spine at the thought of being under that arm. Of remembering what that felt like. Being so important but so worthless at the same time. 

Shania Lovegrove was there. She was pregnant again, sipping what Tessa really hoped was a juice. Her fourth at twenty-three with her third baby daddy. Tessa understood why her parents spoke so sadly about her now. She hoped that those kids were okay.

Walker Browning was sitting on the tailgate of his truck, beer in hand. Laney nowhere in sight. Right. They broke up again recently. Some squabble about when they were finally going to get married. Laney wanted it now. Walker wanted it in a few years. But Tessa and really everyone else in town knew that it was inevitable they would get back together. Again. It was a never-ending cycle with those two.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Riley’s lips stretch into a smile, her dark eyes focused on something over Tessa’s shoulder. Tessa opened her mouth to question such a wicked grin, but then Riley took hold of her shoulder and turned her to face the other direction. 

Rhett Abbott was approaching them. He was no longer wearing his riding vest or chaps, but a brace now adorned his right wrist. A big silver buckle shown in the firelight at the top of his jeans. His smile was small and shy as he walked up to her, face still ruddy and dirty from his ride.

“You see me this time?” he joked quietly as he came to a stop in front of her. 

She laughed, genuine, with her hands in her pockets. “Yeah, I do. Promise I’won’t slam inta’ya this time, either.”

“Okay,” he chuckled lightly, then he gestured in the direction he came from. “Wanna drink?”

“Yeah, we — “ 

Tessa looked behind her to loop Riley in, only Riley was nowhere to be found. Her heart dropped into her stomach. Of course. Time alone with her lover boy. With the hearts in his eyes, just now noticing her. Tessa really had been hoping, if they were to run into each other at the bonfire, that Riley could act as a buffer. An escape plan. But there she was. Alone with Rhett Abbott of all people. Who only a few days ago didn’t even know she was still in town. Who forgot her first name. That still left a sting, something sharp and bitter on her tongue. Something clarifying.

She turned back to Rhett with a closed mouth smile. Her cheeks burning and praying he wouldn’t notice. 

“A drink sounds nice.”

They both turned and started walking together at the very edge of the bonfire’s light. 

“How was uh — how’s the barrel racin’?” he asked.

“I’s’fun! Haven’t gotten’ta watch any racin’ in a long time, so…” she trailed off and smiled up at him. 

Rhett smirked back for a second then looked away, down at the ground. “Ya miss it?”

“Sometimes,” she replied, “But anytime I get a hankerin’ I jus’run a demo at my parent’s ranch.”

“Get all those tourists gawkin’ at ya,” he chuckled. 

“I mean, little girls starin’ at me like m’Wonder Woman or somethin’ is pretty good f’r my ego,” she said with a joking lilt and they both laughed.

His hand brushed against her arm and she tried not to notice.

In the back of some dirty blue GMC was a case of Heinekens. Rhett took one out of the case and opened it on the tailgate, handing it to her with foam still running down the side. He took out another and opened it for himself. Taking a long pull of it as she licked the neck of her bottle clean. Beer was never her drink of choice, but there were no other options. The alcohol may just give her enough confidence to stay with Rhett. Not sprint back to her safe space at Riley’s side — or in her car headed home.

She could do this. They were just…friends.

Right?

“Glad ya got t’see somethin’ good,” Rhett spoke around the lip of his beer before taking another sip, he was nearly halfway done already. “Before seein’ me ride like shit.”

“Hey, don’t talk like that. Bones hasn’t been good ridin’ n’years. Y’got screwed over.” Tessa hid her grin by taking a drink of her beer as he narrowed his eyes unbelievingly at her, smile ticking up the corner of his mouth. “I don’know — that’s just what the old guy behind me’s sayin’.”

He laughed with a shake of his head — and a foreign sense of pride filled up her chest, like a balloon with air, at getting him to do so. His laugh was soft, quiet. Like most of it got lost in him on its way out. He tried to hide that accompanying smile that showed all his teeth by ducking his head. But she saw it. And it was beautiful on him. Lit up his whole face from something unreadable and stoic to sincerity and joy.

Tessa liked it on him better than anything she’d seen. 

“But seriously,” she went on, taking another sip of her beer and leaning her side against the tailgate of the blue truck. “You were good’n high school and y’r standin’s the last few years’ve always been great. Y’re better than that.” 

There was a certain glint in his eye as he gazed down at her. “You kept up with m’standin’s?” 

“Sometimes,” she mumbled, a heat in her cheeks at him catching on to a part of herself she didn’t mean to reveal. 

He was the local boy, a legacy —  son of a Wabang bull rider. Sometimes, it was her father or Slick sitting around the kitchen table asking about him and how he had been riding recently. Other times, it was of her own volition. Sitting in the dim light of her room at the Boy’s Home, just wondering. Just curious. She didn’t care much for bull riding. But maybe somewhere deep down, even after all these years, she still cared a little too much about Rhett Abbott. 

A great gust of wind blew through the pasture, carrying the windrows in its ghostly hands. It sent a chill through Tessa, the cold beer in her grip only making it worse. Rhett perked up from where he had been leaning against the tailgate. 

“Shit, c’m’on — “ He reached out for her and she took a step closer. “Le’s get ya over t’the fire.”

She switched her beer to the other hand. “Yeah, that sounds nice.”

His left hand ghosted over her spine as she fell into step beside him. Fingers long and spread wide on her lower back, they walked closer to the bonfire. She was sure she imagined it, but his skin felt warm, even through her clothes. As if he would leave a handprint through the layers. His touch, light as it was and heavy as it felt, kindled something hot deep in her belly. Like the first sparks forged by flint to dry leaves. It urged her to walk closer to his side — and he let her in willingly. 

“How — How’s the wrist?” she asked, needing something to fill the spaces between, as she nodded her head towards his braced hand.

He lifted his beer with that hand, almost like he forgot it was hurt at all. “S’fine. ‘Ve’had worse.”

“Like what?” 

There were more people around the bonfire. Some were even dancing to music playing from somebody’s truck. But it was certainly warmer closer to the golden flames. Rhett dropped his hand, shoved it in his jeans pocket, once they were near enough. But she still felt his fingers burning at her skin. 

“Uh, got bucked off inta the fence couple years’go — Montana,” he said, “Took’a post right t’the face.” 

Tessa hissed through her teeth. “Ouch.” 

“Y’can still feel where m’cheek got broken,” he chuckled, took a sip of his beer — nearly empty. 

“Really?” she questioned, cocking her head to one side with a smile. 

“Yeah, here — “ 

Rhett took her hand and brought it up to his face. That warm pit in her belly only grew, the leaves finally catching flame. His skin was warm. The flesh of his palm calloused and rough. His hand engulfed her own, eclipsed it like the sun to the moon. Tessa knew she was short, always had been, but never before had she felt so small as she did then. With her fingers pressed into Rhett’s cheek, his thumb to her palm, and his eyes trained on the ground as he blindly searched for something. 

Then her fingers caught on it, a slight dip in his left cheek where the bone healed back together — up by his eye socket. His blue eyes slid up to look into her face expectantly. 

“Feel that?” he asked. 

“Uh-huh,” she replied, running her finger over the dent again. “Ya must’ve been a sight.” 

“Eye swelled shut for a week,” he chuckled. 

He pulled her fingers away from his face, but didn’t let go. Did she want him to? Using that hand, that feather-light hold on her she could so easily slip out of, he tugged her closer. The corner of his mouth was ticked up in a smirk, his cheeks slightly flushed. She couldn’t tell if that was from the alcohol, the adrenaline, or her. Did she want it to be her? When they were nearly chest to chest, he released her. Lifted his long, thick fingers to her chest. 

Her heart was pounding. Beating like a drum in her ears as her breathing picked up. Rhett reached for her necklace, an antique locket passed down by her grandmother, and adjusted the way the pendant lay on her crewneck. She swallowed something thick as his fingertips traced up the chain. 

She could feel his breath against her ear as he leaned in and muttered, “D’you wanna go f’r’a walk?” 

Leaning back, fingers still lazily drifting around her necklace, thumbing at the pendant again, he flicked his eyes over to the woods just beyond the light of the bonfire.

She knew what that meant.

Alone. Secluded. Pushing her up against a tree somewhere in the dark. His lips on hers and hands touching everywhere. Just like Olivia Barlow. It was everything she wanted when she was fifteen. He wanted her. Looked down at her now with blue eyes so soft and wondering, mouth ticked up in some smirk only slightly cocky. He pulled in closer to her, towered over her, made it feel like he was the only other person there. The music was drowned out by the rushing sound in her ears. The pit in her stomach burst into flames, roaring and all-consuming as she felt the heat coming off of Rhett’s body. So close. So wanting. 

He wanted her. She wanted him back. With his laugh so soft and busted cheekbone and open sincerity. And wasn’t that everything she desired? To want and be wanted in return?

But there was this fear. Creeping in with freezing winds to snuff out the flames.

Because what if he just wanted to use her to get off — a convenient body he hadn’t used before? What if he didn’t want anything more once they were done and he was satisfied? She didn’t want to be just another notch in Rhett Abbott’s bedpost. She didn’t want a one-time thing. She wanted to be wanted completely. Every day. 

And right now, with Rhett, it didn’t feel complete. It felt fleeting, in the moment. That he would forget come morning and never talk to her again.

Tessa couldn’t risk her own heart — knowing that sorrow was inevitable. 

So she took a step back. 

Rhett’s eyes widened, his smile fading, as he withdrew his hand. Then his brow furrowed low, confusion evident. 

“M’sorry, but, I — I gotta head on home,” she spoke quietly.

“Why?” he asked, arms now limp at his sides, shoulders hunched. 

She bit her lip, fighting every urge to just turn around and walk away. “Early day tomorrow — back at work, so…”

“D’you…Wan’me t’walk ya t’y’re car?” 

“No,” she responded quickly, then sighed, wringing the still half-full bottle of beer in her hands. “No, m’fine. Thanks.”

“‘Kay.” He gulped down the last of his Heineken. 

“See ya around, Rhett.”

“Yeah, see ya.”

Her eyes stung with unshed tears as she turned and walked away from him. Away from the warm glow of the bonfire and towards her car. The warmth in her belly had been put out. Replaced with some nauseating weight.

Once at her car, she texted Riley she was leaving and poured out the rest of the beer she was still holding. Tossing the bottle into her front seat. 

Turns out, she may just end up alone and bitter forever. She couldn’t just loosen up and stop thinking so negatively — about everything. Including Rhett, including herself. A tragedy, creator of her own downfall.

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

#oc: tessa abernathy #fic: here to stay #fd: outer range #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x oc #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott fanfic #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott imagine #outer range #outer range fic #outer range imagine #outer range oc #ocapp #chapter update #fic rewrite #rhett abbott x tessa abernathy #lewis pullman

[whumpster-fire]

How to Swear Like a Steam Engine (And Other Sentient Locomotive Slang)

If there’s one thing engines enjoy doing, it’s complaining and insulting each other, and they’ve developed their own slang to do it. Phrases like “fusspot,” “cinders and ashes!” and “bossy boiler” are common in the Railway Series, but there are many other terms.

The following list of phrases and expressions are commonly used by engines on American railroads, in particular on the Jefferson Great Divide Railway in the mountain west of the US. Some may be common in Sodor and the rest of Britain as well, others are specific to America. There are other lists on the internet documenting the various IRL slang used by human employees, and a lot of that is used by engines as well, but this is specifically the slang terms that were more or less developed within the locomotive subculture.

All Smoke and No Steam: All show and no substance. A person or engine who talks a good game or puts a lot of effort into appearing to be helpful but can’t back it up. An engine that’s making a huge cloud of smoke and a lot of noise looks impressive but if what’s coming out the smokestack is all smoke and no steam it’s not actually doing any work. Can also mean empty words or promises that won’t be fulfilled in the abstract.

“He’s all smoke and no steam!” = talks a good game, is all hat and no cattle, etc.

“That rule’s all smoke and no steam” can mean a rule isn’t / won’t be enforced, or that it will be enforced but it doesn’t actually make things better and is just a way of looking like something’s being done. E.g. “The new safety regulations are all smoke and no steam, management’s still going to come down harder for being late than for safety violations.”

“Their threats are all smoke and no steam” (when referring to customers/clients/workers) = they complain loudly but they’re not actually going to do anything like stop buying tickets, or ship freight by other means, or quit, or strike.

Amtrash: Derogatory term for Amtrak and its engines, used by freight railroad engines. Amtrak is the USA’s quasi-nationalized long-distance passenger rail network. Most of the track it runs on is owned by other railroads which are freight-only, and there’s quite a bit of resentment between them. See also: Useless Pacific, Nofucks Southern, Satan Fe, All Trains Smell Funny, Borington Northern, Misery Pacific, Criminally Slow and X-pensive, Southern Pathetic, Big Nasty Stupid Fuckers. The US only had its railroads forced into a Get Along T-shirt for like three years and that was during WWI-era, so there are a lot of rivalries between different railroads there.

Ballast Plow: A large truck, especially a flatbed, that stalls at a crossing – because if it gets hit it’s likely to bend around the engine’s front and be dragged down the track instead of getting thrown aside, digging into the embankment and scattering ballast everywhere.

Buckled Rail: A buckled rail (usually happens due to thermal expansion of the track in a heatwave) is at a minimum extremely painful to run over and can often damage engines or rolling stock and derail trains. “I need that like a buckled rail!”

Cattle Cars / Cattle: Derogatory term for a passenger train / passengers, particularly unruly and annoying passengers. Engines aren’t supposed to say this within earshot of passengers (and coaches get offended too).

Cowboy / Car Wrangler / Rodeo Clown: Shunter/switcher engines. Definitely popularized in the American West.

Did you fill your Tender/Bunker from the Ash Pit?: Ash doesn’t burn and would make a mess all over the cab. Basically translates to “Who pissed in your cornflakes?”Can also refer to an engine who has no steam or energy.

“Did you fill your bunker from the ash pit this morning? You’ve done nothing but complain and insult everyone all day!”

“Did you fill your tender from the ash pit today? I might as well be pulling this train by myself!”

Did They Fill Your Tender With Rocks?: Less profane version of the above.

Drink Hard Water: Hard water, i.e. water with lots of mineral content, is not good for a steam engine because mineral deposits (boiler sludge and scale) can accumulate in the boiler and other plumbing and be very uncomfortable / difficult to clean out.

“Go drink hard water!” = Go jump in a lake / go to hell / go fuck yourself. Basically “go somewhere else and have a miserable time while you’re there.”

“I’d rather drink hard water!” or “That’s like drinking hard water!” = Hell No.

Dry Crownsheet: VERY strong expression meaning an engine is tired or frustrated to the breaking point and about to lose their temper. “My crownsheet’s dry” could be compared to “I’m going to blow a fuse” or “Blow my stack” but that doesn’t cover the intensity. The crownsheet is the top of a locomotive’s firebox, and allowing the water level in the boiler to drop low enough that the crownsheet is exposed can cause it to overheat, weaken, and fail, which is a common cause of boiler explosions. If that weren’t bad enough water suddenly being reintroduced to an overheated crown sheet can flash to steam and cause a catastrophic pressure spike. Blowing a fuse means a safety mechanism has activated to prevent catastrophe. A steam locomotive with a dry crownsheet means the safety mechanisms have already failed and is on the verge of a devastating explosion. Used figuratively, means an engine has run out of ability to cope with stress and is one more tiny irritation away from taking it out on whoever’s unlucky enough to have added the proverbial final straw, or just anyone nearby, without regard to consequences for themselves.

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t your fault. He rolled into the yard with his crownsheet dry” = He wasn’t angry because of you, he was already angry and something was going to set him off sooner or later.

“Listen, I got a dry crownsheet from my last train. If any of you cars start anything I’m about ready to jump the track into the river and pull you all along with me.”

“Please just get me out of this station! My crownsheet’s about dry and if I have to hear the passengers complaining I don’t think I can take it!”

Find a Scrapyard: This basically means “Kill yourself,” so… not a very nice thing to say.

Fire Me Dry: Basically equivalent to “Fuck me” as an expression of exasperation. If an engine’s fire was lit with no water in the boiler at all, it might not cause an explosion but would still destroy the firebox. Apparently Furness Railway No. 1 was severely damaged and later scrapped due to this.

Flatlanders: Insult used on many mountain railways to make fun of engines and crews from plains regions who aren’t used to running the difficult routes.

“Boy, if those flatlanders think one in one-twenty’s a hill, I can’t wait to see ‘em coming up the pass!”

“They way some of these flatlanders talk you’d think you can’t climb anything over 1% without cog wheels.”

General Sherman, Sherman’s Army, Sherman’s Necktie: Refers to “Sherman’s Neckties,” a tactic of destroying sections of rail by heating them and twisting or bending them until they were unusable. This phrase is pretty much US-specific, and likely originated with engines used in the US Civil War picking up the term from humans, but has spread to subsequent generations of engines who often weren’t taught the historical context and only knew that Sherman was a man who commanded an army and destroyed a lot of railroad track. General Sherman and his army have become almost folkloric figures that various causes of track wear and failure are attributed to, sort of like Jack Frost. Can also refer to incompetent track maintenance / rough and poorly maintained track, or to the crews and vehicles responsible for it. Though they sometimes use the term for an engine who’s particularly hard on the rails or otherwise damages the track.

“That crew really did a General Sherman of a job with these rails.” = Sarcastically saying the maintenance crew made the rails even worse.

“Be careful at that junction, it’s a real Sherman’s Necktie.”

“Ouch! Who laid these ties, General Sherman?”

“That new road-rail’s a real General Sherman. Take any track he’s been over slow or you might break an axle.”

“Hey, General Sherman, try checking a switch is set right before you barge into it.”

“In case you’re wondering why the spur’s been closed all day, General Sherman over here spun his wheels ‘til he damn near hit ballast.” (Diesels in multiple unit operation can occasionally spin their wheels on a stopped train for so long they grind/melt halfway through the rails)

“They ought to put you in a siding and necktie the rails” (similar to “They should lock you up and throw away the key)

“Keep an eye on the track ahead of you: General Sherman’s hard at work on days like this” = a warning given in very hot weather that could cause buckling of the rails.

Getting the Rails Painted: A euphemism for a person or animal being run over by a train. Alternately: “Paint my wheels” or “Paint my pilot.” Obviously no sane engine wants this to happen but some engines use this phrase as gallows humor between each other. Occasionally said to humans who break safety rules by a furious engine.

“What the hell are you doing walking between moving freight cars? You almost painted the rails back there!”

“I heard they got the rails painted at the 58th Street Crossing?” “Yeah. From what I heard, poor guy must’ve been drunk and fell asleep on the tracks. They didn’t say whose train it was but Robbie’s been in the shed all week.”

“Some idiot ducked under the crossing gates on a bike and just about painted my pilot.”

“I got my pilot painted by a herd of deer yesterday. I swear, once they get on the track they must think they’re a train, they just run along it!”

Go Get Your Ash Pan Raked: Removing the ash that collects under an engine’s firebox could be considered the closest steam engine equivalent to using the bathroom, but the connotations aren’t quite the same. Cleaning out the ash pan is a task firemen hate, so telling an engine to get their ash pan raked basically means “Go be someone else’s problem for a while (instead of mine)” Basically translates to "Fuck off."

Hotbox / Hot Axle: A hotbox or hot axle is an overheating axle and/or bearing box, usually on rolling stock but sometimes on engines. “One hot axle stops a train” is a common proverb that means a small missed detail can cause a massive inconvenience or impediment – compare to “For want of a nail” or “One bad apple spoils the barrel.” It doesn’t matter how many cars are on a train, a single hotbox can force the entire thing to stop until the problem is fixed. In slang use, of course, a hotbox can refer to anything small and seemingly irrelevant that manages to cause a disproportionate amount of annoyance, delay, or wasted time. It could be a physical object, a rule or procedure or an event. It is also a common insult: sometimes directed at engines, but more often at people or other vehicles. It basically means “killjoy” or “wet blanket,” with a specific connotation of “You and your opinion aren’t important but you are holding everyone else back / ruining things for everyone by making a ton of noise.” Common examples of hotboxes include an overly officious inspector or manager, a broken down road vehicle blocking a grade crossing, a track maintenance crew that’s working slowly and blocking multiple trains, a small weather event that still sometimes manages to delay everything, or an unruly passenger who causes an entire train to be stopped on their account (or unsuccessfully demands it be).

“Sorry I’m so late. Some drunk hotbox picked a fight with the conductor and the cops had to drag him off the train.”

“Will you quit being such a hot axle? Everyone else is enjoying the roundhouse party, if you don’t like it just sleep outside!”

“They’d better fix those jammed points soon, they’re hotboxing the whole damn yard!” (note: the use of "hotbox" as a verb among engines probably predates the drug usage)

Icicles In My Smokebox: Hyperbolic complaining about cold weather. There are many parts of a steam engine that are susceptible to things freezing where they shouldn’t, such as the feed hoses from the tender, water tanks, and possibly journal boxes and other running gear could feel stiff and numb if the oil gets cold enough. Naturally, when engines are complaining about the cold they’ll claim the hottest parts of them, which have absolutely no chance of freezing while their fire is lit, are freezing. Other variants include “Frost in my flues,” “If they put ice cream in my firebox it wouldn’t melt,” and “Cold enough to freeze your smoke halfway up the stack,” and “So cold a snowman could fire me all day long” (standing next to a firebox door shoveling coal is hot work, if it’s that cold in the cab it’s pretty darn cold)

Idiot Siding: Off the rails, specifically a safety siding where the rails end in a sand or gravel bed, or wherever a train that runs over trap points / catch points / derailers gets sent. These devices intentionally derail an uncontrolled or runaway train to prevent it from obstructing a main line or endangering people further down the track. If a train ends up here either somebody didn’t check the switch alignment, moved when they weren’t supposed to, or lost control of their train, hence the name.

If it gets any hotter my fireman’s gonna be out of a job: Hyperbolic complaining about the weather – implying that the heat of the sun on an engine’s boiler is enough to raise steam without them needing a fire.

In My Cab: Sarcastic way of saying another engine (usually) or a non-crew human is being bossy, or controlling and/or micromanaging, or giving advice on things that are none of their business. Basically meaning “You’re acting like you think you’re my driver.”

“Get out of my cab, I can sort these cars how I want!”

“Manager’s been in my cab all week.”

“Who let you in my cab?”

“Yeah, sure thing. Hey, while you’re up there in my cab, why don’tcha polish my gauges?”

Lionel Lines / Lionels: Derogatory term for narrow-gauge railways and trains, named after the popular brand of toy and model trains. Visitors to the JGD are strongly advised to NOT use this term around the resident standard-gauge engines. They are very protective of their narrow-gauge friends due to certain incidents in the past.

No Ashpan: e.g. “You’ve been running with no ashpan all day” or “He ain’t got no ashpan.” The ash pan is a tray underneath a steam engine’s firebox that collects ash and cinders that fall through the grates. An engine with no ashpan would leave a trail of red-hot cinders everywhere it went, which could be scattered by the wind from a train at speed, starting fires around the track – especially in the dry climate where the JGD is! Basically it means someone leaves a trail of destruction wherever they go. This is a very strong way of calling someone clumsy or incompetent (as in “You fuck up everything you touch”). It can also be used to refer to someone who’s rude, tactless, cruel, or toxic.

Pulling With Your Regulator: Wasting effort, doing more work than you need to. A steam engine’s power can be controlled using the regulator/throttle (reducing available steam pressure / flow rate to the valves) or by using the valve gear control (the “Johnson Bar”) to reduce the amount of time the valves are open. Controlling power and speed using the Johnson Bar (admitting small amounts of high-pressure steam into the cylinders) is more efficient than using the throttle (letting lots of low-pressure steam into the cylinders).

“Sure, you could shunt those cars like that, but you’ll be pulling with your regulator. Those grain hoppers are going out tomorrow morning and you’ll have to get ‘em out from behind everything else.”

Put on a Liquid Diet: A coal-fired or wood-fired steam engine being converted to an oil burner.

Rolling Dumpster: Insulting term for a tender. Not like a slur against tender engines, in fact it’s probably mostly tender engines who use it. E.g. “Why don’t you get that rolling dumpster off that siding and do some work for once?”

Sand in my fire and coal on my wheels: An engine feeling sick, confused, or discombobulated. Ironically oil-fired engines do actually periodically get sand thrown in their fire to clean their tubes out.

Scalding: Yelling at someone, dressing them down, treating them with cruelty. Engines can’t be physically scalded, but they know the meaning from the injuries that escaping steam can cause to humans.

“I’m sick of that stationmaster. He scalded me and my crew for running two minutes behind schedule without even asking why!”

“Geez, ask a simple question, get a scalding.”

“If that switchman isn’t fired tonight, he’ll wish he had been after the scalding I give him next time he see him. Throwing a train onto a siding at that speed could’ve derailed me, not to mention if there’d been a train there!"

Slug: Someone who blindly follows orders with no initiative or independent thought, or a yes-man or toadie. Used by diesels. A slug is an extra motor unit that can be coupled to a diesel-electric engine that draws excess power from it to provide extra traction while shunting, but a slug is not alive in the same way that tenders aren’t alive.

“Oh, company policy says, the rulebook says – quit being such a slug and live a little!”

“Yeah, the guy’s just Bernie’s slug. Always following him around hoping to be noticed. Pathetic.”

Smoke out the Stack: Similar to Water Under the Bridge. Expression meaning something’s in the past and no longer relevant.

“Hey, sorry about this morning.” “Ahh, don’t worry, that’s smoke out the stack."

Squishies: A very rude way of referring to careless yard workers and light road or rail vehicles, as well as people who trespass on tracks.

Sugar in My Fuel Tank: An unpleasant surprise. Originated in petrol-powered vehicles, but spread to diesel locomotives even though sugar in a diesel tank doesn’t really cause that much damage.

Teakettle: Insulting term for steam engines, especially small ones.

Tender-first: Doing something totally wrong, i.e. Ass-backwards. This one translates very literally. A tender engine running backwards can’t see very well and neither can its crew.

This Train’s Leaving. You can be on it, beside it, or under it: Means “My mind is made up. You can either help or leave me alone, but if you get in the way there’s going to be serious trouble.”

Thrown: Throwing a switch is what changing it from one direction to another is called, but when an engine talks about getting thrown it means being switched in an unexpected or unwanted direction, particularly at high speed. Like other types of sentient vehicle engines need a human operator to move with full control, but they also run on rails and cannot “steer.” In essence a train moves in one dimension while a car or boat moves in two and an aircraft moves in three. Even the most free-spirited engines don’t usually truly want the ability to go any which way: they like the certainty and predictability of knowing where moving forward will take them. However, engines do value the limited autonomy they do have. An engine can’t control itself without a driver, but as anyone who’s read the Railway Series will know, it is extremely difficult to move an unwilling engine. Thomas and James had runaway incidents because they were either trying to move without a driver on purpose or didn’t realize there was no one at the controls, and once they had made the choice to let themselves start moving, they couldn’t change the state of their controls by themselves. But an engine won’t move without their consent. Switches are a different matter. An engine is reliant on someone outside the cab to set the points, and being sent down the “wrong track” against their will feels very violating to many engines in a way that being physically pushed or pulled by another vehicle doesn’t. It’s like being manhandled. There is an expectation that switch operators follow the instructions of either an engine, their crew, or the dispatcher or yardmaster who is expected to tell the engine in advance where they are supposed to go. It’s also physically a jarring and unpleasant out-of-control feeling for an engine even when traveling at a safe speed – basically the train equivalent of going up or down a staircase and expecting another step that isn’t there, or suddenly hydroplaning or hitting a patch of ice in a car, or having your feet start to slide out from under you. And it’s often downright dangerous, either because a train is moving too fast for the curve of the switch and is derailed or because it’s sent into a collision on the other track or off the end of a siding (e.g. the Flying Kipper crash). Engines being engines, the term is also used hyperbolically to complain about an abrupt change of routing or scheduling with little warning, e.g. “Well, nobody told us about the special using my regular platform, until the last signal, they just threw me to Platform Five!” or “Today’s ore train was late. Dispatch gave them the tunnel instead of me so they didn’t have to stop going uphill, but I didn’t hear about it until they threw me on the passing siding!” It can also be used figuratively, similar to “thrown off track” or “thrown off,” to describe an unpleasant surprise or failure of communication.

Traveling In Style: Slang for a vehicle, especially a locomotive, being transported on a flatbed.

Tubes in a Twist / Knot: Expression of an engine (or human) being irritated, or feeling sick.

“What’s gt your tubes in a twist this morning?”

“That’ll put a knot in the foreman’s tubes for sure!”

“Are you feeling okay? You look like you’ve got a knot in your tubes!”

Turf Train: Affectionate term for farm tractors pulling multiple trailers or appliances.

Turn Your Grates: Implying that an engine has a buildup of ash on their firebox grates that is preventing their fire from getting enough air – almost always used figuratively to imply the engine’s mind is clogged with useless thoughts or strong emotions that are keeping them from thinking clearly. Or that they’re just being an idiot.

“Turn your grates before you run your mouth” = Think before you speak, in particular about whether you’re coming from a place of emotion or bias.

“Turn your grates and look at the track” = You have your mind on something other than what you’re doing, stop thinking about that and concentrate.

“Your cars are right on Spur 7 like I told you, turn your grates and look again!”

“I know the last diesel who visited was rude, but let’s turn our grates and keep an open mind about the new ones.”

Yoopers and Burlies: These are JGD-specific slang. The railroad connects to two major interstate railroads, Union Pacific and the Burlington Northern and Santa Fe Railway (BNSF). At some point some engine heard about the word “Yooper” to describe people from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, decided to start calling engines and employees from Union Pacific this, and the name stuck. “Burlies” are BNSF engines. Prior to the 1995 merge of Burlington Northern and the Atchison, Topeka and Santa Fe Railway, the term was used for Burlington Northern, but there wasn’t really a term for Santa Fe engines other than “Santas” or “S-Fs.” A few engines tried to get “Reindeer” adopted as a term but it never caught on. Yoopers and Burlies are common on the JGD because both railways have trackage rights on one or more of its major routes.

You Got Your Valve Gear Backwards On the Left Side: Steam locomotives reverse by using their valve gear to change the timing of their valves. If one somehow had its valve gear operating backwards on one side, one cylinder would be trying to go in reverse and the other forward and it wouldn’t get anywhere. Used figuratively to mean “You’re sabotaging yourself” or “You’re the cause of your own problems.” Mostly used by older engines.

#Railway Series Fandom #TTTE fandom #worldbuilding #JGD Lore

[onthisdayts]

February 13, 2009 - San Antonio Stock Show & Rodeo in San Antonio, Texas

#taylor swift #tswiftedit #onthisday #taylurking #2009 #february 2009 #performances #san antonio #texas

[vintagerpg]

Here’s Goodman Games’ Original Adventures Reincarnated version of the Isle of Dread (2019). Everything I said yesterday about Into the Borderlands applies here, give or take, so I won’t go into that again. Let’s focus on the awesome.

This is the second rodeo so the book feels a liiiitle bit better realized. There is color inside, for starters (I am not actually sure Into the Borderland ever had color, but my fifth printing, at least, is all black and white). There is a little bit clearer presentation of what is new in the 5E conversion, too, which I appreciate. Isle of Dread, being a hex crawl, also just seems naturally a better fit for this sort of expanded content. Where the caves of B1 and B2 already felt well stocked in the '70s, the Isle has vast tracts of wilderness that can be filled. (I should note, interestingly, that North Texas RPGCon expanded both B2 and X1 in supplemental modules that kind of rhyme with Goodman’s additions — we’ll see those later in the year).

The additions and expansions are great. I love the original X1, but its open-endedness lacks a certain underpinning of plot that this book fills in. The way the taboo surrounding the kopru operates is clearer, there is a whole extra dungeon complex in the volcano and there are lots of quality of life updates that make this feel fuller and funner. I particularly like the fact that they changed the random encounters from a list to a collection of lightly sketched vignettes. Despite the renovation, it almost all feels true to the tone of the original. The new art does a lot of work here, showing me old sights in a new way — I love how I can feel my neurons firing when I try an reconcile the beloved past with the mysterious new present.

I want to run this, basically. That’s my highest accolade, I think.

#RPG #TTRPG #Tabletop RPG #roleplaying game #Goodman Games #OAR #Isle of Dread #D&D #Dungeons & Dragons

[sundownsquad]

OH MY GOD I JUST THOUGHT OF OTTAS IN RODEOS AND JUMPING!!! ADORABLE IMAGES RUNNING THROUGH MY BRAIN

HECK YES OTTA RODEO!!!

They'd be so good at it! They are professional nerf herders after all. ;D I think they'd make great barrel racers too, but I bet their giant tails would knock over just as many barrels as hitting them with their shoulders would. :'D

Now I really want to send Sundown to a county fair/rodeo/stock show. 😂 Animals, funnel cakes, rickety rides, carnival games... they'd really dig it. Lol

Images used: [Link] [Link]

#Thanks for the ask! <33 #Heckin' love rodeos #Haven't been to one in a while though I need to fix that lol #Ottaburas #Sundown Asks #Also this is post number 200 on the blog! ✌️ #Love how it took a bit over a year to hit 100 #and now it only took like six months to add another 100 lol

[shamelesscloudbeliever]

The Silencers

( Part Four )

Nor for Fontaine and Alexis, a hit with a sniper’s rifle, or a carefully planted car-bomb to murder their victims. That wasn’t their style, and the ladies liked to carry out their hits with élan and grace. Alexis and Fontaine enjoyed the superiority they enjoyed by seeing the look of defeat in their victim’s eyes just before they shot them. To them it was the ultimate turn-on.

Upon successful completion of the hit and ensuring they had left no evidence or clues Fontaine and Alexis placed their untraceable and now empty Glocks on the desk, and in the process Alexis picked up the iPadAir containing Adams's files from which they would undoubtedly glean priceless information into FBI operations along the West Coast. Names of informants, names of undercover operatives, addresses of FBI safe houses, priceless intel. Alexis placed the tablet into her oversized Hermes leather bag. Before leaving, Fontaine reached into the inside jacket pocket of Adams and removed his iPhone and walked around to the front of the desk and pressed the camera app and took a snap of the bloodied corpse and placed the phone in her pocket. Three hours later she sent the photograph to all the major media outlets in Los Angeles with the accompanying text " This is what happens when you try and fuck with us". " Scott Adams FBI, Fucking Beyond Identification". "XXX".

Everyone of the major news networks refused to show the photograph because of its graphic imagery but it spread like wildfire on the internet and within days it could be seen on the front of $250 designer ladies black t shirts with the logo "Scott Adams FBI." Fontaine bought the entire stock in one Rodeo Drive store alone and gave them to her friends as presents, signed by her and Alexis.

They were Hitwomen Superstars.

The two women now left Adams’s office and walked down the long corridor towards the exit, passing the storage room where the body of Jim Thompson lay.

One hour earlier, Thompson, overweight and in his mid 50s and an ex-cop who had taken early retirement, and now worked as a security guard was shocked and pleased to have his Sunday morning interrupted by the sight of a gorgeous blonde in a dress so minute , it barely covered her fantastic body, asking to come in. Through the glass door he could just about make out something about her car having broken down and her cell phone flat. He walked to the door and let Alexis in. He turned and walked ahead saying “the phone is here Miss”, only to be interrupted by Alexis who immediately pulled a Glock from her purse and pressed against the base of Thompson’s skull. “Keep fucking walking into that storage room and it's Ms “ Alexis ordered. Thompson did as he was told. Once inside the storage room Alexis told Thompson to stand at the far wall. She could see that the overweight Thompson was sweating profusely. She enjoyed the fact that Thompson was terrified, he had good reason to be. Thompson was now ten feet away from Alexis as she held the suppressed Glock expertly in her right leather gloved hand, pointing at her captive. “ I bet you’re the kind of guy who brushes up against women in the supermarket and then goes home and jacks off, well I’m doing women everywhere a favour by blowing you away” said Alexis . Thompson pleaded , NO!, NO! PLEASE! NO!. Alexis smiled, “ your time's up sugar” and squeezed the trigger of her Glock three times, Pfft, pfft, pfft. Two to the heart and one to the head causing the back of his skull to explode, Thompson died instantly. Alexis exited the storage room and walked back to the entrance and let her accomplice in. Fontaine smiled “won’t Scott get the quite the surprise when he sets eyes on us” she said.

The two women now emerged into the bright LA Sunday morning sunshine, putting on their designer Gucci sunglasses and removing their leather gloves, placing them in Alexis's bag as they did so. No fingerprints, no DNA, no witnesses. These women wrote the book on how to get away with murder. To anyone who saw them that morning as they left the scene of their crime they looked like two women returning home after a wild night out.

To ensure no-one could connect them to the building where they had killed Adams the two women, making good their escape, walked seven blocks in their stiletto boots before hailing a cab. Fontaine tipped the cab driver who picked them up $500 to make sure that he never ever remembered them, if he was questioned later about any unusual passengers that morning while Alexis, having gotten out of the cab, skillfully applied a tracking device to the back of the taxi.

Two nights later the same cab driver was surprised to see Fontaine get into his cab once more only this time she was dressed in a two piece pinstriped suit and pristine crisp white blouse and a fedora tilted over her right eye. Once safely in the back of the cab Fontaine pulled out a suppressed black Sig-Sauer, P229 from her inside shoulder holster and calmly ordered the defenseless man to drive down a deserted alley whereupon she shot him twice in the head. As she got out of the cab Fontaine looked at the dead cab driver slumped over the wheel and thought to herself that this was how that movie Collateral should have and would ended if the gorgeous Angelina or the sex on legs Charlize had played the assassin, and not wimpy Tom. Now that would have been a happy ending in her opinion. Fontaine removed the tracking device which had allowed the two hitwomen to know where exactly the doomed cabdriver was at all times from two days earlier from the back of the cab and placed it in her right jacket pocket. She walked to the far end of the alley where Alexis was waiting for her behind the wheel of a black two seater Porsche 911. "That's every loose end tied up relating to the Adams hit darling, apart from Chief Carter of course, but that’s in hand" said Fontaine, "so it’s back to business as usual".

#female gangsters #hitwomen

[alrightbuckaroo]

Fic title asks: “Cowboy Like Me”

Hello!

Alright, so my first thought, because we all know I love a good AU, would be rivaling rodeo cowboys! I'm talking enemies to lovers bleeding through every bit of it.

TK's known to take the title of the The Reno Rodeo in Nevada every year and Carlos is known to take the title of the Houston and Live Stock Show every year.

However, this is the year they're both competing in the National Finals Rodeo in Denver, Colorado.

They'd both be part of the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association so they'll need coaches and who better than my two favorite LS besties, Tommy and Judd.

Tommy, a retired rodeo cowgirl who moved to Reno in the early 2000s with her husband and her twin daughters. Her only client is TK and he's her favorite client.

Judd, a retired rodeo cowboy who decided to hang up his hat because he doesn't want to risk not being there for his daughter when she grows up.

Yes, this would be an excuse to write a friendship between Carlos and Judd and yes this would be an excuse to make Tommy look better than everyone else in cowboy boots.

I think it would touch on TK doing this to keep his mind busy and his heart racing; and it would touch on Carlos doing this to prove that he's rough around the edges and not soft at all.

I think there would also, maybe definitely, be a scene that starts with competitive mechanical bull riding at a honky tonk bar that ends with doing very NSFW things in the bathroom of said honky tonk bars. They are cowboys after all, they're not afraid to get a little gritty.

send me a made-up fic title and i'll tell you what i would write to go with it

#i'm totally normal about any and all things cowboys thank you for asking #asked and answered

[phinix53]

Who is your employees and owners of Moonstone ranch?

Nightmare and Dream are the owners of Moonstone Ranch.

Killer, Dust, Horror, Sugar (Lust), Red, Blue, Cross and technically Error all are employed by the ranch.

Imma give some little bits about them too ^^

There’s so characters you might not have met yet.

Nightmare

one of Moonstone Ranch’s owners. Nightmare suffered a horrific injury during a rodeo event that left him blind in one eye. He over sees all operations on the farm.

His horse is Belos, a black Thoroughbred.

Dream

Dream, the younger owner of Moonstone, is a well known rodeo competitor. He is also the main one that trains horses on the farm. He and Nightmare can often be heard getting in shouting matches over Dream participating in rodeo events, as Nightmare doesn’t want Dream getting hurt.

His horse is Sun Stone, a Palomino Paint.

Killer

Killer in Nightmares right hand man, he is the foreman of Moonstone. He was the last remaining farm hand that stayed after Nightmares injury.

His horse is Dagger, a white and black Arabian. But he also frequently rides Diablo, a leopard paint.

Blue

Blue was the newest face on the farm for a while. After Blue’s family farm was sold, Blue was brought on by Dream to participate in rodeos along side him. Blue specializes in events dealing with bulls, like wrangling and bull riding.

His horse is Indigo Run, a blue roan thoroughbred.

Dust

Dust is the barn manager. He tracks all the tack, feed and medical needs of the livestock. He is a licensed veterinarian, handling medical treatments along with handling artificial insemination of brood mares. He is the only one with an office besides Nightmare.

His horse is Cyanid, a buckskin quarter horse.

Horror

Horror was hired to care for small livestock and keep up the main house. He tends the chickens and his large garden. He can often be found wearing a straw sun hat that covers up a large head wound he received after going head to head with an extremely aggressive bull during a cattle drive. He was hired at Sugar’s recommendation after not being able to find work. He can’t ride any longer, though he wishes he could. He does have a horse tho.

His horse is Whiskey, a chestnuts quarter horse.

Sugar

Sugar is the resident errand person. Their job is to make sure the farm is always stocked with what ever it needs, be it hay, feed or simple groceries. Sugar previously worked as a point man (the leader) of several high profile cattle drives. He was leading the drive that Horror was injured in.

Sugar has two horses, Sage the red dun quarter horse and Sparkler the champagne Arabian.

Red

Red was hired as a handler for more rowdy horses. He travels with Dream and Blue during rodeo season and acts as a guard dog for the pair and their horses after some unsavory actions from a few other competitors.

His horse is Garnet, a sorrel quarter horse.

Cross

Cross is the newest face of the farm, a rich city boy who has no clue what he’s doing, but he is trying. He’s never been around a horse. Heck the guy didn’t even own jeans before showing up.

He doesn’t have a horse of his own, so Horror lets him borrow Whiskey. After he learns how to ride.

Ink

Ink is a local artist and photographer who often wonders onto Moonstone. Ink is well known for his pictures of the farm, having featured in many magazines. Ink won’t step foot near a horse, yet he always leaves with bite marks on his easel and canvas. And his car too, how did that happen?

Error

Moonstone’s administrative assistant. Error handles payroll and small financial transactions. He lives part time on the ranch with the others.

Dawn-old and Helen Pricket

The Pricket family is a large generational fire monster farm. They are neighbors with Moonstone Ranch and the two do buisness. The Pricket farm runs a large distillery and grows the hops and barley to produce their goods.

Grillby and Fuku are part of the Pricket family.

Sticks and Stones

Sticks and Stones own a small dairy farm. Moonstone and Sticks have an agreement to purchase bull calf’s at a discount

Ccino

Ccino owns a small dinner in the small town nearby. He often travels out to Moonstone to purchase fruits, vegetables and eggs from Horrors garden. He wants to learn how to ride but very rarely has the time to learn.

Star

Star is a rider that boards their horse at Moonstone. He comes by every other week to take his horse out riding.

His horse is Orion, a bay Belgian draft horse (and an absolute unit of a horse)

#moonstone ranch #undertale au #character info