⤷ 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?”
“ 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'."
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 ?”
━━━ ✴︎ 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.”
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 !
basics
full name: roosevelt james sutherland (formerly known as roosevelt james hunter)
nicknames: rooster ( used by everyone he knows ) ; rj ( used by close friends ) ; memphis starr ( his name for online music platforms )
age: thirty-eight
date of birth: 30th may 1988
gender: cis man
pronouns: he/him
sexual orientation: heterosexual
occupation: ranch hand @ canyon valley ranch ; musician ( guitarist )
hobbies: reading ; watching films ; playing the guitar ; horse riding
habits: sleeps around a little too often ; drinks too much whisky on his days off ; is too much of a workaholic ; sometimes stays up too late obsessing over his music
element: fire
astrology: gemini sun / scorpio moon / leo rising
mbti: istj - the logistician
enneagram: type eight - the challenger
temperament: choleric
moral alignment: chaotic good
primary vice: wrath / lust
primary virtue: diligence
health
physical ailments: none
psychological ailments: none that have been diagnosed
allergies: none
sleeping habits: wakes up around 5am and goes to sleep between 10-11pm
eating habits: eats breakfast almost every day, usually within half an hour of waking up; eats lunch between 12:30-1pm ; eats dinner between 6-7pm ; will also snack between meals if he’s hungry
sociability: is relatively social ; doesn’t mind meeting new people, but prefers the company of close friends
rooster is the middle of five brothers and always hated it. he wasn’t old enough to be the boss and wasn’t young enough to be babied. he constantly fought with his brothers about one thing and another and it drove their parents crazy. george hunter was firm, but fair, though sometimes ruled with an iron fist. he’d punish the boys for their quarrelling via hard labour on the family’s farm and usually until long after the sun has set.
school wasn’t much fun either. for the first few formative years he was bullied: for the way he had his hair, for his ridiculous name, for his interest in books, and for the fact he actually wanted to be there. but when rooster was old enough to have the strength the fight back, it got him in trouble numerous times. his mother was often called to the principal’s office and looked down on him in disdain.
“why can’t you be like harrison? why can’t you just be normal?”
her words planted a seed of hatred within him, deep down in the darkness of his heart. harrison… harrison, harrison, harrison! it was always about him! rooster would retaliate by breaking, ripping, and tainting anything of his brother’s that he could get away with until his father slapped him into submission. the image of harrison’s smug face as he watched on was burned into rooster’s mind and he would never let his brother forget that night.
so rooster kept his head down in school, using baseball as an outlet for his pent up anger and energy and then cooling off with a book or by playing his guitar. making his own music allowed him to channel his feelings into something more positive and reading gave him the escapism he so desperately needed. he also gained some popularity once in his final few years of school and enjoyed the attention he got from his peers.
harrison moved out to go to college and it brought rooster some peace. he felt like he could breathe without fear of his brother scheming behind his back about new ways to tantalise him. he enjoyed the solace he’d now found, but three years was a short time and harrison was soon returning home. it was rooster’s then-girlfriend, kylie, that encouraged him to reconcile with harrison once he did come home and eventually he was persuaded, albeit reluctantly.
not at all surprisingly, george and lisa had given harrison a large chunk of money to buy himself a little ranch house on the opposite end of the family’s land, equipped with its own barn and enough land of its own to start a venture. rooster wasn’t jealous, but was once again vexed that his oldest brother received all the attention and materialistic shit he could ask for whilst he had always been cast out. he’d put it all aside for kylie, though. he’d still try to make amends.
until rooster then spotted harrison with kylie on the porch of harrison’s new place, kissing her and with his hands where they shouldn’t have been. the deep-seated rage began to bubble again; the blood beginning to boil, his hands beginning to clench, and the desire to wipe the perpetual smirk off harrison’s face becoming increasingly stronger. he stayed hidden in the dark and slipped home without being spotted. he lay awake that night plotting his revenge. he was sick of his stupid family and their stupid pretentiousness and his stupid brother taking all the attention and having chances rooster was never given. he had to hit them where it hurt: financially.
he knew of the valuables around the house, what was going to sell for a high price and what he’d keep for a little longer to sell later. he knew where his father kept the most valuable things and a stash of cash hidden away- a safe in a locked cabinet. his his family’s misfortune, rooster knew the passcode after once watching his father punch it in, and picking the lock on the cabinet was easy. so, whilst his parents were away with three other siblings, he purposely stayed home using work as an excuse and raided the family home. the safe was emptied- stacks of cash, jewellery, credit cards, all gone- and the expensive trinkets taken. what rooster could fit into the back of his truck he was take. he just didn’t know where he was heading. he also decided it would fun to smash all the photographs of the family: their fake smiles leering back at him as he stared at them with rage in his eyes. he hated them. he had no love. he’d miss quincey most of all, but his little brother was better off without him. everyone was. he didn’t fit in and never had.
so now he had to run.
without a second glance, rooster fled the hunter home, first stuffing everything he could into two suitcases before jumping in his truck and heading for the highway. he had no plan, no idea what was going to happen when his family realised that he had vanished along with the family’s most treasured and valuable possessions. before leaving, however, he paid a visit to harrison’s place, slashing the tires of his prized truck, scratching the paintwork, smashing the glass, and contemplating setting the damn thing on fire. he then set his chickens free and smashed down the front door of the house, leaving it as a free-for-all if anyone was inclined when they passed by.
when he eventually arrived in willow glen, a chance encounter, he used what money he had saved up from his various jobs over the years and some from the stuff he sold along the way and bought a ranch-style house in magnolia ridge without even seeing it. he had agreed to everything the real estate agent said and signed the papers, insisting on the keys before the ink was even dry. with what possessions he had, rooster made a home for himself and no longer lived the shadow of his older brother or under the rule of his unbearable parents. he now works as a ranch hand at the canyon valley ranch and produces his own music in his free time.
wanted connections
— best friend: rooster and this muse have been friends for almost the entire of his fifteen years in willow glen. they met at a bar, share many interests, and find it really easy to be around each other. they rely on each other for just about anything, whether it be a shoulder to cry on or help with a diy project. ( open to any gender or ethnicity, but must be around the age as rooster, give or take a few years! )
— other close friends: he might be a little grumpy, but when you get to know rooster he’s a great guy; he would do anything for his friends and is great to socialise with. he also likes to host get-togethers where he buys beers and snacks and plays music. he’s the kind of friend that will always stand up for you even if you don’t need or want him to because he knows what it’s like to have anyone come to his defence when he needed it the most. ( open to any gender, ethnicity, and age over 30! )
— flings: rooster doesn’t believe he’s able to fully commit to a relationship (it’s not you, it’s him), so enjoys impressing girls and taking them home. some he sees multiple times and some he’s sees the once, depending on how well they get along. ( open to several female muses between the ages of 28-43! )
— friend with benefits: amongst rooster’s myriad of flings is one special woman. they’ve known each other for a while, initially having a one-night stand and then running into each other a few weeks later. they got to know one another over a drink and quickly bonded, but sex was strictly casual, no questions asked and no awkwardness. they call each other, usually in the evenings, when needed and other than that see each other around town. ( open to any female muse between 28-41! )
— ex-girlfriend: this muse and rooster dated a number of years ago and it didn’t end well. she thought that they’d be together forever, hoping that rooster would soon pop the question, but he dumped her abruptly and she has been bitter about it ever since. rooster has never apologised even though he does feel remorseful he’s been trying his best not to meet this muse without anyone else around out of fear of a horrible confrontation. ( open to any female muse between the ages of 33-41! )
— if there is anything else you might think would fit then please message me!!
headcanons
— he and his brothers are all named after former u.s. presidents and rooster believes he got the most stupid name of all- not because the two roosevelts weren’t good presidents, but because it was least first name sounding of them all. he tried to persuade his parents once to change it to something more subtle like monroe or jackson or tyler, but to no avail. he eventually made peace with his name and doesn’t mind it so much anymore, but still prefers to go by rooster.
— he releases his own music on several platforms under the name memphis starr. he also plays at local bars and events to earn extra money and share his music with more people.
— he’s very skilled with a shotgun. a little too skilled. he sets up old cans and bottles along fences to use at target practice. it was something his father taught him from being a teenager and rooster hopes he’ll never have to pull the trigger on a person.
— he has a seven year old chestnut mare named invicta (vic for short) and he adores her. they ride out in the fields together and down dusty lanes and it’s a way for rooster to clear his head.
— on his way to willow glen, he changed his name, hoping it wouldn’t lead any of the authorities to him and closing the door on a person he no longer wanted to be. he picked sutherland as a homage to one of his favourite actors, donald sutherland.
— rooster loves films and binging television shows. his free time is mostly spent on the sofa with an action film or a thriller box set, accompanied by a glass of whisky and some salty snacks. his favourite film is the godfather and his favourite show is fargo.
* ⤷ 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?”
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?”
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