#wranglrs : a dependent blog exclusively for willowglenhq written by sky ( twenty5. she/her. gmt )
roosevelt'rooster'sutherland : wyatt russell. thirty8. he/him. ranch hand & musician. ──── intro. pinterest.
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@wranglrs
#wranglrs : a dependent blog exclusively for willowglenhq written by sky ( twenty5. she/her. gmt )
roosevelt'rooster'sutherland : wyatt russell. thirty8. he/him. ranch hand & musician. ──── intro. pinterest.
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑟 ( 𝟒 / 𝟒 )
⤷ by the roadside ( in or just out of town ) , evening
“great. fuckin’ great. goddamn sonofabitch!”
rooster was having a bad day. he overslept, he hadn’t had the chance to eat much today, his truck had just decided to break down, and to top it all off he was missing out on a date. the girl was going to be so pissed with him and would think he stood her up. rooster would have texted her, but in the chaos of today his phone had died.
dead like his social life and self-respect.
“i’m so sorry to ask,” he began, catching the nearest person’s attention, trying to hide his frenzy and desperation. “but could you help me? my truck’s just given up on me and i’m not long from givin’ up myself. i just need a tow back home or if i could borrow your phone to call someone. i wouldn’t ask, but…” rooster flung his arms in the air, letting them fall against his legs and letting out an agitated huff. “i’m not havin’ such a good time right now.”
status : limited spots available ( 2 / 5 ). location : world cup watch party — frank's.
" oh, i'm not rooting for anyone. " a poor, old sap sat at the bar in frank's, still the same place where they had their first drink seven years ago. teddy hasn't focused on the game for the last thirty minutes, instead cheering when everyone else in the restaurant would and booed when they did too. " i'm more of a contact sport kinda person, " he chuckles quietly at his own words while taking a sip of heineken and turning their full attention to the person next to him. " what about you ? should we place a bet ? "
it had been a long day for rooster and he had been looking forward to having a quiet drink or two at frank’s after work to decompress. however, he was surprised to find that it was packed with world cup fans intently watching the game on a large tv screen. the fact had slipped his mind despite the competition being the sole thing that a lot of people talked about more recently. he’d be getting a drink; just not a quiet one.
“yeah, me too,” rooster replied, idly tapping his finger on the bottle he was drinking out of. “i mean, if i had to watch sports i’d much rather watch hockey or baseball. soccer, football, whatever you wanna call it… not really my scene, but i like how it brings people together.”
he then took a swig of his beer, momentarily contemplating the other man’s offer. rooster couldn’t really afford to be making bets of any kind and naturally didn’t like losing, but perhaps just this once.
“i’m not really a gamblin' man. i’ve never been lucky in my life and i don’t think my luck's gonna change any time soon… but i’d only take you up on the offer if the bet was a couple of beers instead of money. whatcha say?”
unfortunately i do think i am in fact doomed forever but at least there’s movies and music and idk probably some other things too
⌗ 𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗲𝗱𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖾𝗋 , canyon valley ranch .
“ i’ve been on ranch before but i have never seen anything like this , “ it’s impressive , the expanse of land , the assortment of animals that just seemed to frolic around with nothing to worry about other than when they’d be called for the next meal . she’s been encapsulated by a pen of sheep ever since she arrived , thought a farm would be a nice place to go for some organic inspiration , had found herself stuck so far in her own head that it’d put her in a artist's block that clung to her like quicksand ⸺ and she was working hard to find a way out . new environments always helped , new sights , new textures , a new lens that helped her look through life from the eyes of someone she’d never thought to before . “ i’m sorry , but , i kind of have to ask , “ she starts , fingers running through a sheep’s wool , a stress toy she’d never think she needed , “ why do people call you rooster ? am i also meant to call you rooster or is it like . . . a family and close friends thing ? “ ( @wranglrs )
the ranch might not have been his own, but when ollie spoke rooster could hear the awe in her voice and felt a swell of pride in his chest. he worked hard on canyon valley ranch, mucking in when he could and probably spending a little too much time with the horses and a little too much time staring at the sunsets that could be seen so clearly there.
rooster then wiped his dirty hands on the thighs of his jeans before answering. “my name is actually roosevelt- yes, like the presidents- and rooster comes from that because i couldn’t say my name right as a boy. i also had a distaste for it and my classmates bullied me for it. in a class of brandons, matthews, brittanys, and ashleys, roosevelt didn’t exactly fit in. s'pose i coulda gone by my middle name james, but that's boring too and i don't look like a james either."
he looked down at the sheep that ollie had been petting and it looked as though it was enjoying the attention. amused, it made him smile and he hoped she found it therapeutic.
“so it’s always been rooster," he added. "i wouldn’t let anyone call me roosevelt unless they were real special... but speaking of names, you're just ollie, right? i've always thought it was short for olivia or olive or somethin'."
Wyatt Russell as True Brandywine in Broke (2025)
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑟 : @fawnvinyl ( merrick )
⤷ the block party , afternoon
rooster’s feet had began to ache from all the wandering around. there was a lot to see and do at this year’s block party and it was probably the best one yet. he was glad he came and especially glad he’d worn his hat since he’d stupidly forgot his sunglasses.
he then spotted merrick sitting down in the shade and nursing a bottle of beer and decided to join him, hoping he wasn't intruding on a moment of peace.
“hey, man!” he exclaimed, enthusiastically holding out his hand for merrick to shake. “long time no see, huh? well, i suppose you’re a lil busy with domestic life now to bother with your old pal rooster.” he then let out a laugh. “i kid, i kid! you and the wife been well?”
CLOSED STARTER FOR ROOSTER SUTHERLAND ( @wranglrs )
the row of booths
mackenzie found herself walking down the aisle of booths, taking in the various items and activities on display. she had almost decided to not come out, but instead she decided that she needed to. her daughter was off playing with her aunt and cousins while she went around to enjoy a little alone time. she had stopped at the tarot reading table, hesitating if she wanted to do it or not. hearing footsteps next to her, she glanced in their direction. " you thinking about doing this too? "
on his perusal through the booths, rooster had clocked the tarot table moments before mackenzie showed up and, in all honesty, was about to turn away until she spoke.
“uh, yeah, but i dunno if i really believe in it. i don’t need a stranger telling me my past was shit because i damn well know it; i don't need them to tell me my present is chaotic or whatever because i know that as well; and i highly doubt that anyone can tell me my future.” rooster paused. he probably came across as grumpy and cynical and that wasn’t a good impression to make.
“sorry,” he then huffed, scratching the back of his neck. “i don’t mean to be like that. ignore me… anyway, what do you make of this tarot stuff ?”
✴︎ 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙘𝙠 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙮 𝙠𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝 .
━━━ ✴︎ the lone stars branded training shirt clings to dominic's sweaty torso, grateful for the canopy that shades the kissing booth. dom's knee bounces, eyes find the sign again:
' DALLAS LONE STARS, PUCKS AND PECKS: kissing booth fundraiser. with #17 dominic khadra. $20 = one kiss, $30 = a kiss and a photo, $50 skip the line privileges.
all proceeds go to charity. '
that's the catch, isn't it ? all proceeds go to charity. how could he outright refuse when the funds raised would go towards helping underprivilieged kids access the sport that had given him everything ? it's only been thirty-five minutes into his two-hour commitment and he's signed more ‘ khadra ‘ merch than he could count, kissed more fans than he ever would have anticipated. one had simply wanted to touch the knuckles that had broken a rival team-member’s front teeth … weird. two fingers hook under the collar of his shirt as he savors the last of his break, a futile attempt to send cooling air to wet skin when his eyes land upon a welcome figure. " oh, hey ! you here to kiss me, too ? " he teases, motioning them over with a relieved smile.
rooster’s hat shielded his face from the sun as he made his way past the different block party booths. he wasn’t heading for one in particular; he just liked to see what was on offer. he usually stopped by the food stalls, always finding something delicious to eat, and always found his way to the ones selling little trinkets.
he was still meandering when a voice caught his attention. rooster furrowed his brows at the other man’s words, but when he saw the booth sign things made more sense.
dallas lone stars… he wasn’t into hockey, so didn’t know who dominic was, but he must be fairly popular or arrogant to have set up a booth like this.
“uh… no,” rooster replied awkwardly. “i’m sure you’re a great guy, but i don’t swing that way. no offence. i’d rather just hand over twenty dollars if it’s for charity.” a pause. “do ya really get that many people wanting a kiss? seems a little intrusive to me.”
im doing good! you know. besides the underlying feeling that I'm fundamentally incapable of fitting in in a society. besides that i'm chillin
WYATT RUSSELL as TRUE BRANDYWINE Broke (2025) dir. Carlyle Eubank
ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑟 : @fcksgone ( dulce )
⤷ the park , early afternoon
rooster loved the outdoors. he loved feeling the warm breeze on his bare arms and ruffling his hair, the glorious sun beating down and brightening up the world, and listening to the bird song that carried through the air.
and it was even better when he spent that time with other people, particularly after spending the last few days mostly on his own, either working on holed up at home focusing on his music. so when he spotted dulce sitting on a bench in the park he was very pleased indeed. with a spring in his step, he approached her and flopped down on the bench, hoping not to startle her too much.
“oh, my god!” he exclaimed in an exaggerated manner, finding it hard to stifle a grin. “you’re from the tv! can i have your autograph, pretty please?”
this was how rooster greeted her sometimes. it started off as a silly joke and now it was custom.
⭒˚。 [ wyatt russell, cis male, he/him. ] was that roosevelt 'rooster' sutherland i just saw over at old fox books ? you know, the thirty-eight year old ranch hand & musician that’s been around willow glen for fifteen years. people around town say they can somehow both be grumpy and headstrong, but if you were to ask them, they’d probably say they’re more like playing melodies on the guitar at 2am, the amber light of early mornings, the smoky smell of a crackling fire, and dusty flannel shirts left out in the sun. the town sure has been rumbling about them lately, apparently they stole from his family in spite and ran away from the consequences . . . but who knows if that’s true, i guess i’ll just have to stop by magnolia ridge and find out !
𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝟷𝟻, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶 -𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹
* ⤷ open starter, 3/5 replies ─── the afternoon, around 4:00pm, nursing a can of highly-decorated sardines @ lotus bazaar.
" i've never understood it— " the words punched out, spoken as an obligation than a real interest to strike up conversation. go out, make friends, really get to know your neighbors! all advice given to him as of recent, thankfully wrapped in a pretty bow by the order of dr. roth herself. his therapist, of course. " the whole... tinned fish thing? like, why is this twenty dollars, for starters? and why are so many things in here fish themed? ─── i mean, who needs a wallet with a sardine on it? " then, a laugh, breathy, still erring on the side of awkwardness, surely off-kilter from the media-trained jonah chernykh most were used to. he was trying to make friends! sue him; this shit's hard! " really, and be truthful with me, now... would you buy that? "
“i wouldn’t even get fish from the grocery store let alone pay twenty dollars for a little tin of one,” rooster snickered. “so, nah, i definitely wouldn't buy that. but each to their own i guess.”
rooster rarely visited the lotus bazaar. it wasn’t his scene. he was too rough around the edges for it, but sometimes he just liked to see what was on offer. he liked to spend money every now and then, but always on something he knew was useful or he adored. not some waste of a tin of fish. that was ridiculous.
“i’m sure that there’s better things to be spending twenty dollars on anyway,” he then uttered. “if it’s food ya want then maybe somethin’ a little more tasteful, like chocolate. the chocolates look amazing, huh?”
⋆ ˙ ⟡ 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒆𝒓 & . accepting replies .
“ okay , okay — one more . watch this . ”
a small audience of children trails behind her like ducklings , placing entirely too much faith in a woman who hadn't attempted cartwheels in years . momentum carries her forward , hands meet earth , legs swing overhead . . . score ! she sticks the landing !
for a few precious minutes , summer forgets she's thirty - one years old . she forgets the paperwork waiting in her office , the calls she is yet to return , the complicated knot of grief , history and responsibility she carries like a second spine . all of it slips away under the afternoon sun and the chime of children's laughter . it feeds her soul in a way she cannot describe .
movement near the edge of the group catches her attention and poof . . . the spell breaks . blonde hair pushed from her face and straightens , speaking to the darling angels once more . “ alright , little olympians , that's enough showing off for one day . ” followed by a chorus of groans . “ i know , i know . you can keep practicing on your own . ” laughter lingers she nudges one child delicately toward the others before peeling away . only then does she make her way toward the other .
“ you didn't see me stack the first one , did you ? ”
rooster watched summer with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and how the young children tried to copy her cartwheel. it was sweet; their innocence of youth, learning about the world whilst summer herself might have been reminiscing her own childhood. it was hard not to. unless you were an olympian, cartwheels were a forgotten art lost to time.
“stack? nah, i never saw anythin’ of the sort. you’re pretty good.” he gave her a grin. “i don’t think i’ve ever done a cartwheel and i’d like to say it’s probably easier than it looks, but knowin’ me i’d break a bone or two.”
rooster remembered once playing with his youngest brother, climbing trees and pretending to be wilderness explorers. he climbed a little too high to impress quincey, slipped, and plummeted to the ground, which resulted in a broken arm. the kids at school found his injury of interest, but his parents weren’t at all happy.
“to those kids, you probably looked like an athlete,” he then added. “they were real impressed. so was i. got any other skills hiding up your sleeve?”