#country!abby

[andersonfilms]

❝ LONG NIGHT, LONG RIDE ❞ ✶ ABBY ANDERSON !

★⠀warning y disclaimers — eighteen+, nsfw themes, country!abby, petname usage (sweetheart, darling), mechanical bullrider!abby, abby is a big ass flirt, kinda shy!reader, dub-con (alcohol involved). 

RAY RAMBLES ★ idk a random thought and i kinda ran with it. if you like, i have a part in mind with smut for my slutty friends. to be continued ...

you’ve never seen a woman move like she did. it wasn’t the first time you’d seen her there. nestled deep in the heart of texas, tattered-blue denim jeans hugging her thick thighs deliciously, white tank top accentuating her toned abdomen. worn-in brown boots on her feet, blonde hair as carefree as she appeared, hips in sync with the mechanic bull as her skillful hips ride as the operator strategically tries to rid her off of it. s’not an easy task by any means. 

she has the face you can’t quite seem to forget. you never really do. it’s become a ritual of yours. every friday night, you end up in this rundown bar, the only one in this nothing town. maybe it’s pathetic to pine over someone so clearly out of your league. but she’s easy on the eyes, the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. surely, it wouldn’t hurt to just look. 

the girl of your dreams is riding the bull again, and looking goddamn hot doing it. possibly even hotter than this texas heat in the beginning of summer’s warmth. someone as muscular, toned, and broad as her shouldn’t be doing it so gracefully. it’s been a month of watching her. every friday night you nurse the ice bear, condensation dripping down to your fingertips, soaking your wrists as the liquid drips further. 

she’s making quite the show of it tonight. anderson, ever the performer. 

the only name you’ve heard being used, quite loose lips of the small town groupies. apparently, anderson, is the talk of the town and tonight the girls next to you at the bar are as chatty as ever. you only pick up remnants. bits and pieces of their drunken gossip. 

she broke up with her girlfriend. been two months actually according to nora. time to make a move. 

anderson wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole. 

whatever. i’m going to make sure she’s riding me tonight. you’ll see. 

you force yourself to disengage the eavesdropping and look away from the scene of her riding the bull. you’ve seen her do it so many times you know it’ll be over soon. it’s pathetic how you know that in the first place. 

you’ll leave soon, the commitment of work bright and early looks over your intoxicated brain. but then you hear loud boots stomping their way to you. looking over you notice it’s her and she makes conversation with the bartender as she sips on the chilled bottle of beer. 

“seen you here every friday for the best month, darling. do you like the show?” anderson chuckles as her body inches forward. her thumb picking at label on her beverage.

she’s noticed you before? 

“mhm, not sure. still trying to figure out if i do.” 

she nods smoothly, amping you nerves as she scoots the bar stool closer to yours, before taking a seat. meaty, strong, legs opened wide as they rest on each side, supporting the weight of her built frame.

“hm.” she hums, watching as you take another swing of your beer. 

she opens her mouth, more of her southern drawl seeping out but the girls from before manage to squeeze through the small space between you and the mysteriously hot woman who occupies your brain. 

“anderson, you look really good tonight.” the girl from before resurfaces, her sultry tone sharp enough to cut through the entire room, her hands making connection with her toned, freckled bicep descending down her forearm. you make yourself scarce to the bathroom, not enjoying the sudden storm in your stomach. 

it’s just there. 

jealousy storming it before you could even stop it. it’s clear anderson is more than sought after. she’s everyone’s dream, yourself included. you’ve had one short lived conversation. maybe she’s an asshole, a cheater, an ego the size of this massive state.

it’s what you told yourself as you washed your hands in the washroom. it’s the only thing you could tell yourself. the hint of rejection was even more unsettling so you decided to pay your tab and get the hell out of here. 

the vibrator tucked in your nightstand drawer had never done you wrong. why break a good thing? right? god, there’s never been a more pathetic moment on earth. you and your wand against the world of scorned loneliness. but then she’s in there with you. you’re frozen, unable to move as walks in. confidently, resting her broad back against the wooden door. the single use bathroom does not give you much room to breathe. 

anderson crosses her arms, muscles flexing as her arms visibly look bigger, as if they weren’t already delicious enough. she looks down as you’re slightly bent over the short sink, suddenly taking interest in your ass. 

well, it seems sudden to you. 

“you really didn’t have to run off.” she tuts, as you find her frame in the mirror. you swear she bucks her hips slightly but you must be imagining it. taking note of her golden locks flowing past her sculpted shoulders, brown stetson hat concealing her eyes from you, for the most part.

“i don’t know. you seem pretty preoccupied. didn’t wanna put a damper on your night.” once you were done rinsing your hands, you turned around, arms placed at your side. every single bone of your body incredibly nervous to speak with her. especially to be alone together.

“besides, it seems like you have a lot of fans mesmerized by you, anderson. everyone seems to talk about you.” 

“maybe? but i wanna talk to you, darling.” pushing off the door, anderson inches herself closer towards you.

“would this be something you want? my attention?” raising her head, tilting it to the side as she awaits your response. 

“you’re… forward.” you grasp at straws, trying to find the right words but nothing seems right. 

“jus’ know what i want when i see it.” anderson admits. you’re not sure what to think. the sinfully hot woman, everyone’s vying for her attention, and she’s decided to extend her interest in you. why? you’re not sure. “what?” 

“i-i just don’t know what to say to you, anderson.” she smirks, the sly smile of hers on display. “anderson, huh?” 

“isn’t that your name?” you perch yourself onto the sink. clearly, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon. “sort of. it’s what everyone here knows at least. but you should call me by my name. my real one.” 

you’re honored with a privilege, a simple one, just for you. it’s intoxicating how special she can make you feel. your heart beating out of your chest the more she takes. affecting all and any rational thought occupying your brain. it’s just her. 

“abigail, but you can call me abby. abs.” she takes a few steps forward inching closer to the space between your open thighs.

“whatever you want, really. as long as these pretty lips are talking to me. hm? how does that sound to you?” 

you visibly gulp as  she inches closer and closer…

“uh, um, abigail’s pretty.” she’s got you now. utterly fucking trapped. 

abby chuckles. if she wasn’t this hot, it would be downright condescending. “mmm, think i’m pretty, sweetheart?” she’s so sure of what she wants, eyes set on you and it’s s’much to handle. the trap’s been set and you’re falling into her southern charm far easier than you would have if it were anyone else.

you barely nod your head, shyly biting your lip. finally, giving her something to work with. abby’s thinking about devouring you whole, eating you right up, bringing you home with her, pulling you into her bedroom, tearing you apart in every way she knows how. 

the light shining in your eyes makes her think you’d let her. 

“y-yeah, i do.” abby makes home between your thighs, standing at her full height, stammering six feet tall. firmly grabbing your legs before wrapping them around her torso. “bet you do, sweetheart. i’m sure you think about all sorts of things, especially about me.” 

your breath hitches as abby removes her hat, shaking her blonde hair to the side, sunkissed skin even more exquisite up close. freckled cheeks, the adorable bump in her nose, her nipples hard and now poking through the tank top, chest nearly against yours as she wedges herself impossibly close to you. perfectly shaped lips moving closer to yours. 

“why don’t you tell me what you think about when i’m riding the bull? when my hips roll, my head tossed back, and my back arched. be a sweetheart and tell me, darling.” her hat is placed in free hand while the other softly grips your chin, thumb smoothing over the soft skin.

“be real good and tell me.” 

you pause for a moment, doing your best not to fumble over your words, just this once. 

“most of the time, i can’t stop looking at your hips. how in control you look, so confident and my mind just…drifts.” you linger, eyes meeting her baby blues and fuck. fuck. fuck. 

you’ve never been so doomed to fall. 

“darling, don’t leave me hanging. what does it drift to?” abby asks, dipping her lips to your neck, ghosting over the access point, until she lightly kisses at your collarbones. so light, it makes you question if this is just some cruel, fever dream you’ll wake up from.

“shit.” abby takes it as a sign to continue her lips dip into your chest, hardly divulging to where you need her, before she’s ascending back up to your neck. “you gonna be good for me?” she whispers in your ear, her breath calm and even. 

you nod and abby bites your ear playfully as you moan, pulling her in by your legs. “hm, if i keep whispering pretty little things in your ear? can you handle me, sweetheart?” her southern accent further cementing you in her honey grip. 

“maybe? i don’t know. fuck, yes?” abby giggles, her voice dropping an octave as she goes in for the kill. “oh sweetheart. i might just kill this pussy of yours with what i have to say next.” on instinct, your hands tangle themselves into the root of her blonde hair, tugging her closer to you. wanting to suffocate her in your scent, but she’s already halfway there. 

“abigail, just say it. please?” she nods, loving how you’re already using your manners. fuck, so good for her already, not even having to ask twice. abby feels the heartbeat of her clit stirring in her pants as it chases the sound of your voice. she’s so feral, already. yeah, you may feel like a goner but if only you knew she is by far so much worse. 

“i noticed you the first night. those pretty fucking eyes staring at me. wouldn’t fucking leave me for anything, even when the bartender was trying to get your attention. those bambi eyes on me, bright eyed and practically begging for me….” abby’s purposely whines in your ear, causing you to grind into her. she can’t stop the chuckle leaving her lips. 

“you’re being mean. just tell me.” abby pauses as she grins like the cheshire cat. you tug her hair back tightly, the moan she emits is loud. her eyes nearly roll back into her head, but she’s able to stop it before it goes too far. before you push her to the subspace she can so easily get to when push comes to shove. for now, she’ll bask in the dominance. 

all of it so new, so fresh. “oh, i’m being mean?” abby threatens cockily. “i have  been awfully mean, huh? letting those pretty girls flirt with me right in front of you.” she kisses lightly underneath your ear before continuing.

“been thinking about you the last couple of weeks when i’m riding.” abby teases.

“you do?” your jaw slacks, your grip on abby’s head releases. “sure have, darling. m’thinking about how you want to ride me instead. pretty thighs rubbing together when you’d look my way.” abby’s hand drops to your thigh, rubbing your inner thighs with her thumb. basking in how you open them even wider, unprompted. just a small mention and you’re right back to her riding the bull. whimpered out for her, needing her to do anything, something. 

“why don’t we get out of here and you can come home with me?” she pleads, pressing a kiss to your temple. sweet and sultry with half-lidded eyes looking at you. your eyes looking at the hat in her hands. 

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” shyly, scratching the nape of your neck. 

“are you going to put your hat back on?” 

“mhm, not sure.” abby bites the inside of her cheek, anxious as the next thought plagues her mind. you won’t know what a big deal it is, but everyone in the bar will know. she will know, but you won’t and somehow it makes it easier when the request flies off her lips. 

“you could wear it? if you want, sweetheart.” abby asks sweetly. you’re quiet for a moment, pondering. “who knows. might be too big or too small.” you shrug your shoulders as if you’re not interested. 

“well, why don’t we try then, sweetheart? won’t know until you do.” she maneuvers the white cowboy hat, placing it carefully in your head. 

you smile happily at her. “look! a perfect fit.” 

abby knows there’s not a damn soul who looks better than you. “yeah, sure is perfect.”

DAILY CLICK + DONT BUY TLOU + DONATE

[andrsnsgirl]

the new farmhand you father hired was truly something to look at when you would be at your desk doing possibly anything to be right there. the way she threw those hay-bales’ around and barked orders at your clumsy brother for falling in the mud trying to catch a chicken was so sexy to watch. her tight wife beater, blue flannel, dark washed denim jeans, and her brown square toed boots fit her to a T. a wet spot forming in your lower area as the sun glistened off of her sweat. gosh, was she a treat. she’d be up earlier than your father, the sound of the sheep bleating and her yelling silly words at the herding dogs always waking you up. you couldn’t help but dream about her, she was a dream. you’d stay up and watch her ploughing the fields, with her arms flexing with every swing of her tool. oh you wish she could ploughing you next, it was incriminating to think that lowly of a woman you haven’t even met but just seeing her in general gets you rubbing your thighs together because without fail every friday night, your fingers are deep in your pussy, drunk on the thoughts of her on the field with her denim and boots on. you mewl at the thought of her big arms around your neck tightening with every thrust of her fingers hitting that spongy spot you so desperately loved.

the sun bore it’s heat in your room on a summer morning. the cooing of the mourning doves can be heard and you toss in your bed. your sticky and wet from the humid night, your hair is all over the place and making you hotter even more. your groan and head to the bathroom to clean yourself up before you head downstairs after you checked your clock for the time. you toss on a robe and slippers before leaving and lazily walk down the steps rubbing your eye with a pout hoping your father was downstairs, in the house for you to complain to him about the humid night and how badly you suffered. well, he was and so was she. you stopped at the bottom of the staircase in panic mode, maybe if you disappear right now she won't notice you in your robe. she sat and let out a guttural laugh and so did your father. they were talking over their break you assume with the beer and water bottles and snacks in their hands. they go on for about a minute more before your father noticed you and fixed hisself. he plastered the biggest smile on his face, walked over to you and gave you your 'good morning' kiss on your head before heading out to do some more of his sweat inducing work. leaving you and the hunk of a farmhand in the kitchen.

making your way to the fridge you feel those blue eyes trail your every move. bending down in the fridge to see what you could possibly conjure up before lunch, the intense staring was too much and you prayed to God she would say something and he answered.

“hello there.” she grunts and clears her throat waiting for you to acknowledge her. that melodramatic draw in her voice is smooth and tangy, that southern accent present in the best way you know how. you squeak at the bass of her voice and peak your eyes over the fridge door. “h..hello.” you speak and stand up now to look her in the eye. she’s overpowering you even from across the room, you could feel her height looming over you. “i haven’t seen you around much, are you his uh.. daughter?” she scratches the back of her neck in the awkwardness of the room. “i am. are you the new farmhand? my father has said lots about you.” “ain’t that right?” she straightens her posture and is not fixed on the sink a little with her hands firm on the marble counter. “w..well not that much—y’know he can’t really say too much because you’re still employed to him and all and i’m just his daughter.” you shyly giggle to lift the awkward tension in the air but you’re not sure if it’s already gone or it’s just you. she chuckles “yep that sounds about right. say, i didn’t catch your name sweetheart.” the nickname is absolutely heaven to your ears. you tell her your name and she mutters under her breath that it was a pretty name for a pretty girl. she taps the counter twice and excuses herself to the outside claiming she has more chores to do and to help your clumsy brother, she throws in a little jab at the poor boy before giving you a wink and a smile leaving the door open, letting the breeze roam the house. you rush upstairs and immediately start your silent victory dance once your bedroom door is closed. you finally scored a conversation with the woman. looking out the window to see her shaking her head and fingers rubbing her temple at the sight of your brother covered in manure, you giggle in your hand and plop yourself on your bed. this was just the beginning of a loooong journey.

[bp6comics]

Paramore x The Last Of Us

Redbubble

[chai-berries]

hello - sugarland / cowboy take me away - the chicks / bless the broken road - rascal flatts / where have all the cowboys gone? - paula cole / wondering why - the red clay strays / you’re still the one - shania twain / jackie and wilson - hozier / landslide - the chicks / cigarettes- the wreckers / bitch - meredith brooks / you were meant for me - jewel / save a horse, ride a cowboy - big & rich / whiskey and women - maddie rean / i’m the only one - melissa etheridge

august 2024

[black-seance]

Black Horror and Portrayal of Occult

Black horror has consistently been entranced with magic and mysticism, portraying African cultural aesthetics such as Vodou and ancestor worship. Many Black horror movies include themes of possession, occult, and ritualism which are portrayed differently from other horror because of a unique and stigmatized cultural lens. 

Eve’s Bayou is interesting in its portrayal of Vodou and mysticism, as supernatural aspects of Black Southern life seem to be normalized. There are a range of different powers at play within the film, such as with Aunt Mozelle who is simultaneously blessed with foresight and plagued by a curse that has killed all her past lovers in varying gruesome fashion. The film’s main character, Eve, is also clairvoyant herself, and recruits the help of a Vodou lady in order to kill her promiscuous father. Eve is played by Jurnee Smollet, who also happens to star in Lovecraft Country, another show which centers itself around the occult. 

Magic and mysticism is also very present in Blaxploitation horror, such as Scream Blacula Scream with its revival of Blacula via Vodou, or Sugar Hill, which makes use of the Vodou zombie trope through a thrilling tale of revenge. You also have the film, Abby, a horror film in which a woman is possessed by the Yoruba sex spirit, Eshu. Blaxploitation horror also includes portrayals of Black vampires and ghosts, heavy with themes of retribution, racism, and other social issues. These Blaxploitation films, while not really the best portrayal of African occult practices, are unique from other horror in that the horror is specifically of Black origin, again, an example of how Black horror looks at magic and mysticism through a cultural lens. This is in contrast to Western horror flicks, which seem to revolve around the general white sphere and look at magic and mysticism through a strictly gimmicky lens (vampires not as cultural figures, but as marketable boogeymen).

Themes of magic and mysticism can also be found in films such as Get Out, Candyman (both the originals and the sequel), and His House. Get Out’s usage of the mysticism is much more subtle than the rest, but it can be found in the beginning with the usage of the song, Sikiliza Kwa Wahenga, a Swahili song which Jordan Peele states is mean to represent Chris’s ancestors warning him to “get out”. Candyman’s usage is a bit more obvious, with magic and mysticism represented through the oral passage of Candyman as urban legend, which is explored in the 2021 sequel as a simultaneous representation of oral traditions of old, as well as generational trauma from racialized killings of Black men. Lastly, His House makes use of the apeth, otherwise known as a Night Witch in Dinka culture, a creature by which they must repay a debt to after abducting a child and getting said child killed. 

[anti-potato]

Opinion on Arby's?

really good choreographer but I wished she was gentle with the kids

[green--y]

I finished my refs for my main Magical Girl group, The Sounds Of Justice! I'm gonna more for this story and Dimensions when Artfight is over!

[easypeasylindyvesey]

girl we gotta go check on jimmy 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏼‍♀️

brb looking up the length of the drive to boston

i’ll bring the car & music, and you can bring the endless amount of donuts & bagels from dunkin & just throw them in the backseat. oh, and don’t forget his bland coffee order!

[911-on-abc]

inspiration saturday

not going to make a collage because this is a country music AU, so I might as well share some country music

(okay some of this is going to be folk and bluegrass because that's my shit and I won't apologize!!!)

While I'm Waiting Here by Billy Strings (he's a bluegrass musician so this is kind of cheating but he is one of my top 3 favorite artists (who is still alive); In the fic Eddie writes it about Shannon)

Before The Next Teardrop Falls by Freddy Fender, one of the few Latino artists in Country

El Paso by Marty Robbins (because buck is a little shit)

Before 9-1-1 Connie Britton was in an ABC show called Nashville which was... a show... this arc with whatever this guy's name idk is very similar to her arc in 9-1-1, so just sub his face with Buck's lmao

Buried Under

tags below!!

thank you for tagging me: @loserdiaz, @cal-daisies-and-briars, @jesuisici33, @pirrusstuff (sorry if I'm missing anyone!!)

tagging: @thewolvesof1998, @exhuastedpigeon, @elgascreamslikehell, @housewifebuck, @watchyourbuck, @wildlife4life, @daffi-990, @rainbow-nerdss, @your-catfish-friend, @annieontheside (if you've already done with tag game I'm sorry for tagging you again haha)

[lemondedelamode]

Abby Champion by Dan Martensen for Vogue December 2022

[cherabby]

look this isn't universal or a hard rule but I think as a general rule of thumb if you can adequately summarize the whole plot of a flim without once having to mention the culture (or any cuturally specific elements, i.e. specific holidays) which the characters belong to, then maybe the film is not actually explicitly About that culture. Even if it does feature it.

[unnecessarilygrandiose]

okay but 6x11 being full of callbacks to shannon's death and 6x13 being full off callbacks to ana with the maths and the costuming?? what does it mean what does it all mean

[cressida-cowper]

this is so sad alexa play florida!!! by taylor swift and florence + the machine

[whydoifeelthisquiet]

pointing fingers doesn’t make you a morally superior individual…btw

[the-birth-of-art]

Abbie Hoffman, Country Joe McDonald, Bob Weir, Buffy Sainte-Marie and Jesse Jackson - The Saint, NYC 5/29/86. Photo by Bob Minkin

[munamania]

this might be my favorite song it’s so fucking funny. and genuinely catchy as hell. peter did not hold back. so pj bottoms once again. i’m having fun