#but then I realized the horse is right there

[starrdream]

Save a horse ride a cowboy

farmboy!Anakin x f!reader summary: Spending the summer at your grandparents' ranch doesn't seem so bad after meeting the boy who works for them. includes: SMUT!!, reverse cowgirl, kinda enemies to lovers, dirty talk

The first thing you notice when you step out of the car is the heat. Thick and heavy, like it's trying to press you into the dirt road beneath your shoes.

The second thing is the ranch itself, all picture-perfect under the sunset. White fences, rolling fields, the sound of horses snorting somewhere in the distance.

The house is way too perfect. Sunlight spills through lace-trimmed curtains, casting golden light over polished wooden floors.

“There’s my grandbaby!” Your grandmother fusses over you the second you step inside, pulling you into a hug before you can escape.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re so much taller than the last time we saw you! Look at you!” She coos.

"Nice to see you too grandma" You laugh softly, putting your bag down.

"Oh we couldn't wait to have you!" She beamed as she walked further into the house.

You followed her and as you two approached the dining room you could hear muffled noises coming from the TV.

"Dear," She calls out. "Y/n's here!" She chuckles, walking inside.

You walk into the room a few seconds, expecting to see your granddad sitting around somewhere.

That's when you notice.

A young man in one of the other chairs. He couldn't be that much older than you. 3-4 years maybe?

His legs were spread slightly and he happened to be adjusting his hips as you walked in.

You weren't being honest with yourself but that with his looks made your stomach flip thourghly.

He had longer brownish hair that curled at the ends, his skin was tan and it contrasted his blue eyes that were staring right at you.

You couldn't deny the awkwardness that consumed you. You were wearing shorts and a short crop top, basically half naked in front of some random guy.

"Well, y/n," Your grandma started. "This is Anakin. Anakin, this is y/n" She nodded.

"Nice to finally meet you." Anakin gave you a shallow nod.

"Yeah, nice to meet you too.." You forced a smile.

"Anakin, darling, would you take her stuff up to the guest bedroom?" The elderly lad asked nicely.

Oh dear God.

"Of course." He smiled. A real smile. The kind that went all the way to his eyes.

"Thank you." Your grandma ran her hand over his cheek as he stood up. "Isn't he just so handsome?" She teased.

Handsome indeed.

"So..." You start as he takes your bags. "You're like a secret grandkid or something." Awful joke.

"Pft no" He huffed out a soft laugh "I help your grandparents out here during summer."

"So, a cowboy then?"

Anakin huffed at your stupid question. "No," He shook his head, annoyance starting to build up. "I just help around."

"Right, sorry.." You say, taking another step on the stairs.

"All you city girls are the same." He chuckled. "Annoying and out of touch." Anakin half joked.

You made a mocking face as you walked up the stairs, not saying anything to make your relationship with him worse.

The idea of having him hate you wasn't really appealing. Especially not when he was gonna be around every day.

"Enjoy your stay" He kicked open the door and lowered your bag down to the floor, leaving before you could thank him.

Over the next week you adjusted to the new environment. You also noticed Anakin was around the ranch all of the time. You also realized he, despite his looks, was a pain in the ass.

One evening, you were taking some pictures for your social media. An important detail was that you left the bathroom connected to your room a hot mess while doing your make up.

Considering you were done, you decided to clean it up.

Hurrying up the stairs to the bathroom, you open the door only to be met with a steamy room and...Anakin.

Thankfully, he had a towel that hung dangerously low on his hips. And his back was facing you.

"Oh, I'm sorry-" You mumbled, closing the door shut in your face.

It could always be worse. You convinced yourself as you paced up and down your room, waiting for him to finish.

The door opened and Anakin left the bathroom. He was stil very much shirtless, only wearing a pair of sweatpants.

In this weather?

"Knock next time." He shrugged, leaning on the wall next to the door.

"Yeah, right-sorry" You mumbled, walking into the bathroom and gathering some of your stuff.

"I hope you won't mind me borrowing this." He stated out from the door.

"What?" You mumble, turning your head.

There he was, standing casually at the door holding up a small metallic wrapper.

Oh hell no. How'd he even find that?

"Did you go through my stuff?" You immediately accuse him, ignoring the heat spreading through your face.

"Went through it?" He chuckles "It was all over the place." He gestures toward the sink.

True. But still.

"Whatever." You rolled your eyes. "Could've just asked." You shrug, trying to sound indifferent even though you were secretly seething with jealousy.

"Okay, I'm asking now. Can I have it?" He was surprisingly polite.

"What do you need it for?" No way you were letting him out of this room before finding out at least something about this mysterious hook up.

"What do I need a condom for? To make water balloons"

"Okay then, you can't have it" You reply back snarkyly.

He sighs heavily. "I'm having dinner with this girl tonight and I was hoping-" You interrupt him.

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. Just get out." You usher him out of the bathroom, closing the door.

"Well I owe you one!" He laughs and a few seconds later you hear the door of your room slam shut.

A knock interrupted your moping over Anakin. It was your grandma informing you that dinner was ready.

Your breath hitches as you reach the end of the stairs and see Anakin laughing with your grandfather.

Was he talking about me, or am I going crazy?

Dinner is even more awkward after your grandma announces that she and her husband are going to visit some neighboours.

The smile faded from your face the second you closed the door behind the elderly couple.

"I thought you'd at least look relieved."

"Get over yourself." You huff as you walk past him.

"Oh so you know exactly what I'm talking about. Good to know." He teases, grabbing your arm and pulling you back. He pushes you back against the counter.

"Oh my gosh" You roll your eyes.

"You desperately need an attitude fix, young lady."

You take a small step back, narrowing your eyes. “You’re full of yourself.”

He tilts his head, eyes flicking over you—lazily, like he has all the time in the world.

“And you’re in denial.”

You’re so close now that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, smell the faint traces of cologne on his skin.

It’s infuriating, intoxicating.

And when you move to turn away—he stops you with a hand at your waist. Firm and steady

You should shove him off, but you don’t.

Instead, you look up, meeting his gaze. And what's there? Want, need. Raw, unfiltered, overwhelming.

The next breath you take is shaky. And Anakin notices.

His hand slides down to your hip, fingers pressing just enough to make your stomach flutter.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs. "And I will."

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Because you don’t want him to stop. And that’s all the confirmation he needs.

The second his lips crash against yours, it’s over.

"I knew I should.." He mumbles between sloppy kisses, chuckling softly. "..get my hopes up.."

Before long you're locked away in your room. Anakin's hands help you straddle him with your back to his chest. He spreads his legs slightly, erection pressing firmly against your ass.

His hands roam your curves, pulling down your jean shorts to reveal your red lacy panties.

"Dirty girl..all pretty and dressed up f'me.."

He takes those off with ease.

You desperately rub yourself against him, begging for any kind of friction.

"Easy pretty girl.." He murmurs against your neck, one hand holding your hips and the other one sliding to your front, toying with your clit.

"Please.." You breathe out.

He kisses your neck soothingly, hand pulling back and finding its way down too your hole. He pushes 2 fingers inside of you, moving them around skillfully and causing you to moan.

"Right there?" He coos.

"Right there." You confirm with a quick nod, voice shaky.

He pushes you forward slightly, fiddling with his own belt and pulling his pants down together with his black boxers and freeing his hard length.

He reaches for one of his pockets and pulls out the condom the took from you just hours earlier.

Not wasting a second, he slides it down with ease before pulling you down on his cock as well.

The movement draws a sharp breath from you.

"Shirt off baby.." He mumbles as he helps you ride him, guiding your hips up and down.

You comply, sliding your shirt and bra off at the same time,

"Oh yes.." You moan as his hands travel up your waist, massaging your breasts sensually.

Your hips keep working through the slight burn of Anakin's thick cock stretching you out.

"You can take it.." He prompts.

Both of you chase your high, wet noises and whimpers filling the room.

Anakin's hips start thrusting up into you, tip kissing your cervix with ease.

"Right there.." You encourage him. "Don't stop Anakin, please.."

He chuckles at your desperate pleas. "Don't worry angel, I'm not stopping until you cum on my cock."

"Right.." You gasp. Arching your back, you press him against your spot, drawing out a desperate whimper.

Anakin goes livid. "Keep making those pretty noises yeah?" He says as he rubs himself against your spot repeatedly.

Walls fluttering, face contorting in pleasure-you cum, the orgasm sending shivers down your spine.

Anakin is quick to notice.

"Oh" He chuckles. "That good huh?" His hands grip your hips tighter as you start grinding against him.

"Yeah.. y-yes" You moan.

He finishes too, wrapping his arms tightly against your waist and burying his face in your shoulder as you both ride out the high.

Holy shit I spent at least 3h writing this..Also why is it so unnecessarily long😭😭

Lmk if you guys want me to make a series out of this!!

[ratmare]

When the Lords of Leipa are summoned to treat, there are rumors flickering in the halls concerning the young swordsman accompanying Lord Capon. He’s a popular fellow. Many of the nobility toast him as the savior of Suchdol, and some offer him thanks for his hand in their own personal good fortune. But in the serving quarters below the banquet hall those who pay attention find reason to be wary.

They keep their voices hushed as they collect around the table, bowls of stew held close and prayers whispered before daring to take a bite. The chambermaid is the first to speak and she swears Lord Capon’s page hasn't touched his bed since arriving at the castle.

“Of course he hasn’t. When you all sleep, he mounts his horse and sets off God knows where.” The stableboy hisses. “There wasn’t a sliver of moon last night but he rode torchless, like hell itself was on his heels.”

“I’ve talked to him a fair bit.” The laundress stares blankly into her supper. “He’s kind enough not to haggle and even supplies his own soap, but it's the same pair of hose, gambeson and black waffenrock.”

“They’re soaked in blood each time.” The broth slip from her spoon, thin and murky rivulets dribbling back into her bowl. “And his eyes…they were blown black every morning, it almost looked like they were bleeding into the whites. Gave me the shivers.”

A huntsman leaning against the wall takes a long swig from his wineskin. “I want to believe I was seeing things but I stumbled on him dressing a deer in the Lord’s woods. When he was done he threw some of the meat to his hound and then took a handful for himself…I swear to the Blessed Virgin I saw him eat it raw.”

More than a few at the table cross themselves, mutters of “God protect us” rising into the air to mingle with the kitchen smoke.

“Henry seems like a fine man to me.” A serving girl fumbles with the hem of her sleeve. “He brewed fever tonic for Ludmilla’s child and wouldnt accept a groschen for it.”

“Did you see him make it though! The man was plucking belladonna and nettle barehanded. It’s devilry.”

“You don’t think Lord Capon would really have a demon in his service?” She frowns. “He prays in front of the wayside shrine each morning, and a demon could never do that”

“The devil quoteth scripture to suit his needs.” The farrier presses his tongue into his cheek, arms folded over his chest, and several at the table nod in solemn agreement.

“Devils is right.” The nightwatchman says. “You should hear the wailing that comes from his room after midnight.”

“So he beds a lass or two.” She shrugs. “Hardly unusual for a handsome lad like that.”

“Weren’t no lass in his quarters. Them were the moans of the damned I swear.”

“True enough.” The stableboy pipes up. “I bet thats why he rides all night. He’s out collecting souls for the Devil and then throws them into the flames for his master to feast on.”

“That’s nonsense!” The serving girl huffs. “The only master that man is interested in serving is Lord Capon.”

“But you see that’s the crux of it.” He leans in, voice low. “Don’t you find Lord Capon’s good fortune a little…suspicious?”

“Good fortune? The man’s been caged more times than a pigeon!”

“Shhh shhhh, yes, but he’s been freed each time and his uncle hasn’t had to ransom a single groschen for him.” He flicks his eyes between them waiting for the realization to dawn, but the serving girl is stone faced and the rest are slow with wine or fear.

“Capon sold his soul.” He concludes and the serving girl’s face instantly curdles.

“Blasphemy.”

“No it’s the truth. Do you really believe a no name peasant who’s held a sword for less than a year could rescue a lord half a dozen times.”

“That’s divine providence. Not devilry”

“”You think God favors some bratty lord from Sasau over our poor King locked in Vienna?” The huntsman quirks an eyebrow. “And after talking to our new bathmaiden from Rattay I don’t think God wants anything to do with that man.”

The stableboy slaps the table in agreement. “The rescues are one thing, but the marriage? Getting old Kunstadt to agree to that union had to take some bewitchment.”

She snorts. “You think Master Henry’s playing matchmaker?”

“If he is what I believe him to be there’s no telling what the limits to his powers might be.”

“This is all such foolishness.” She pushes back against the table as she moves to stand. “It’s plain as day you’re just jealous of a man who’s risen far above his station and has earned the friendship and admiration of the man he serves.”

“Careful how you speak, wench.” The stableboy hisses, teeth grit and finger punching at the air above her heart. “Or you’ll be dragged to Hell with Capon and his curr.”

“What’s that?” A new voice cuts through the air, deep and cold. They all turn to see a man standing in the doorway, the kitchen fire glints off the buttons of his black gambeson and combs bronze streaks through his chestnut hair. But the eyes that find the stableboy are icy.

“Did I mishear?” Henry takes a slow stride toward their table, gaze flitting from one face to the next. “It sounded as if you were speaking ill of my master.”

The stableboy feels the blood chill beneath his skin from this devil’s stare. He must be a devil. He’s seen more floggings than Christmases but his heart’s never hammered this hard from a man who’s yet to even raise a hand to him.

“O-of course not, m’lord.” He offers, throat clicking.

“Not a lord.” He draws closer, face inches from his. “Certainly not yours.”

“I can’t have you thrown into the stocks or horse whipped, but know that if I ever learn that you’ve spoken another unkind word about Sir Capon that I will have you begging for a Lord’s idea of justice.”

“Are we clear?”

He nods frantically, eyes pressed shut.

“Good.” He eases back just enough to allow the idiot to bolt, and like that the tension seems to lessen, a smile warms the swordsman’s face as he turns to the serving girl. “Ahhhh Anna is this your work it smells delicious.”

“It’s got that venison you brought me.” She smiles handing him a bowl. “Tried to dress it up a bit with some of Ludmilla’s spices.”

“You have a gift” He grins around a mouthful while he fumbles with the pouch at his belt. “Oh and before I forget here’s that wine you asked for.”

“Oh Henry, you are an angel. How did you manage it I thought Peter would laugh in your face?”

“I have my ways.” He winks.

Finis

Just a little quick and dirty drabble because good natured/kind protagonists being seen as creepy by outsiders is my absolute favorite trope

So did anyone else get the Tartare perk from the Mill? That’s gonna be hard to explain to his friends hehe, but oh boy is it good inspo for monster!Henry fics. Additionally, I always feel bad for mistiming nighthawk potions so Henry’s ryes are dilated during daytime. All that belladonna must make him look freaky.

[vshiftsss]

DREBOURNE, THE KINGDOM OF DREAMS - (ROYALTY DR)

LET’S SET THE SCENE. . .

you are a weary traveler, your shoulders heavy with fatigue while your horse trudges along a dirt road. with how badly your eyes want to close, you can only hope to find some semblance of a resting place for the night. this journey you’re on to finally find the kingdom of dreams, the place where all your desires come true in a snap—it wasn’t easy. with steep mountains framing the outskirts of the land and paths so windy one could easily end right back where they started, it’s clear whoever founded this city didn’t want it to be discovered.

it would be naïve to put everyone’s dreams come true in the open, wouldn’t it?

drebourne is only meant to be found if you are meant to be there. and as your horse reaches the end of the dry soil leading you forward, you realize that you’re one of the chosen. the pristine cobblestone roads and ethereal landscape sitting before you beckon you in, welcoming you into a kingdom that seemed nearly unreal.

this is drebourne, and you’re about to have the best time of your life here.

it’s a shame the joy will be short-lived.

a certain newsletter aims to tear down every idea of serenity the kingdom holds—and they’re starting with the royal family. the people who built this kingdom from the very earth your steed stands on.

all you can really do is wait and see what happens. maybe you’ll get a kick out of some of the gossip that’ll come about…

VESTELE CHARBONNEAU. . .

the last thing vestele expects to see on her 20th birthday is a gossip column claiming she’s “mingling with the rival kingdom”. her mother brings it up over breakfast that morning, hiding prodding questions underneath the veil of chipper small talk.

of course, vestele clocks it immediately. her mother isn’t known for being subtle, after all.

“please. show me this newsletter. if this is some sort of joke, you did a horrible job of entertaining me, mother.”

in big, bold letters, the title of today’s segment read:

“charbonneau heir fraternizing with the enemy? princess vestele caught locking lips with prince cassius of the windermere family”

when she first glances down at the slim slip of paper, she almost laughs at the absurdity of the baseless claim. who would even dare to tarnish the charbonneau name like that, especially when vestele will be inheriting the crown in only a few years? it’s a bold move—a move one would only take when their identity isn’t known.

“mother, how can you believe something so…juvenile? i wouldn’t step near that prince if the crown depended on it, and you know this. i’ll speak with the head of security to figure out if we can resolve this issue.”

vestele’s calm expression doesn’t falter, though her fingertips crease the paper from how tight she’s gripping onto it. she shouldn’t be perturbed; this is just some failing journalist trying to get a juicy headline at the end of the day. no one is going to genuinely believe it.

except her mother did believe it for a minute. as if vestele would do something so…rash. so careless. so unbecoming.

she can’t believe this. what will the public think?

who is behind this newsletter?

and how the hell did they find out about her secret lover?

divider / divider

[gracie-eilish]

Can we have a lil spoiler of what the new series is about?? I'm exciteddd

here’s some sneak peeks!!! hopefully it doesn’t spoil it too much!! if you are able to figure out what the story could be about, pls don’t spoil it in the comments for everyone else!! this fic will be out soon!!

ch. 1 🌿

You pouted. “Dance with me.”

Billie let out a breathy chuckle, but before she could respond, you were reaching for her.

Her entire body tensed as your fingers wrapped around her wrist, gentle but firm, pulling her toward you. Billie barely had time to react before you were guiding her into a slow, easy spin.

It was effortless. It was gravity.

It was you.

“See?” you murmured, smiling up at her. “Not so bad.”

Billie swallowed hard, her heart slamming against her ribs. “Yeah,” she breathed, staring at you like you had hung the stars in the sky. “Not so bad at all.”

ch. 2🌹

You smiled, letting yourself lean back into her. Billie let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding as you settled into her lap, resting your head against her stomach, looking up at her with that same dreamy wonder that had made her fall in love with you in the first place…

…Billie traced lazy patterns on your arm as the evening air cooled, her fingers trailing the soft curve of your shoulder, up to your jaw, over your cheek. You sighed, nuzzling into her touch, eyes fluttering closed…

…she just whispered, “You’re so beautiful.”

And when you hummed sleepily in response, Billie couldn’t help but smile.

The stars blinked to life above, casting silver light over the meadow. The wind played with your hair, and Billie ran her fingers through it, watching over you as you drifted off in her arms.

She didn’t move for a long time.

ch. 3🪟

The answer was immediate.

“Like I don’t belong here.”

Like you belonged in the woods. In the flower fields. In Billie’s arms…

... “Is there someone you’re thinking about?”

Your heart skipped.

You hesitated for only a second before nodding.

She smiled knowingly. “Then maybe you already know where you do belong.”

Your chest ached. You wanted to see Billie more than anything. To hear her laugh, to feel her hands steadying you as you twirled barefoot in the grass. You wanted to see the way her eyes softened when she looked at you, the way she got that dreamy smile when she thought you weren’t paying attention.

ch. 4 🐎

She sat down in the grass, right where you had been the night before. The earth was still warm beneath her, as if it hadn’t quite forgotten you yet. Billie let out a slow breath, running her fingers through the blades of grass. It felt wrong without you here. The flowers didn’t smell as sweet, the breeze didn’t hum the same melody. Even the river, which usually sang so softly, felt quiet.

She closed her eyes and let herself remember. The way you had fit against her, the way your lashes fluttered when you dozed off, the way your lips had parted ever so slightly, making her stomach twist with the urge to press a kiss there.

… Then, suddenly—

The sound of trumpets.

ch. 5 🎉

“Are you enjoying the celebration, my love?” your mother’s voice was gentle as she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I am,” you assured her, offering a small smile. “Everything is so beautiful. The food, the music…

She beamed, giving your hand a squeeze. “Only the best…”

You tried to focus on the joy around you….

…And yet, something felt off.

There was an underlying tension in the air.

Your parents, though elated, kept glancing at each other, their expressions flickering between happiness and something… else.

ch. 6 💚

… at the top of the hill, looming over the town with an almost ominous presence. It had always been majestic, but now, under the strange green fog, it looked… sick. The towers were dark, the windows shrouded, and the whole place felt hollow, as though something had drained it of its life. She could feel it in her bones, an unshakable dread creeping through her, but she had no choice...

With a new sense of urgency, Billie mounted her horse and urged it forward, faster than she ever had before. She galloped through the empty streets of the town, the once-joyful cobblestones now cold and lifeless beneath the hooves of her horse. Her heart raced, but it wasn’t fear that pushed her onward—it was you.

ch. 7 🩷

Billie stood in the doorway, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her usually steady hands gripping the frame as if she needed it to hold herself together.

And then her eyes found you.

She stumbled forward, not trusting her legs to hold her. The moment she saw you lying there, so heartbreakingly still, her knees nearly gave out beneath her.

“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “No, no, no—”

Billie moved without thinking, collapsing onto the floor beside you, her trembling hands reaching out to hold yours. You were warm. Thank god, you were still warm.

Her vision blurred as she let out a shaky breath, her fingers clutching at your hand like a lifeline.

ch. 8 💐

And for the second time that day, she lost her breath.

…bathed in soft candlelight, … gown a breathtaking shade of blush, so pale it was nearly white. Tiny wildflowers—ones you used to tuck into Billie’s hair when you lay together in the meadow—were stitched into the fabric, sparkling alongside delicate embroidery that trailed down the skirt like vines. …but it was the tiny flowers woven… that made Billie’s heart clench the most…

coming monday 3/3✨🌸🫧🌿

[yume-writes]

Hello again.

I have been re-reading all of your MCB posts, and I realized there are some potential funny moments with the cardbots. So buckle up, this will be a long post.

1)

I don't know how much you know abt S2 cardbots, but there's Sky Gallop, and basically he can turn into a centaur. All I can think in my head is the Cybertronians getting bamboozled when he activates his ability and goes from man to horseman. Is he a beastformer? Where did he get the horse part? Nobody knows! When Miko heard they had a robot centaur, she started the discussion: "Centaurs are insects."

Sky Gallop: Oh. This. I don't like this.

2)

Then there's Black Hook (my fav; I do love funky pirates), who is currently allied with the Autobots, and he's a flying ship. Think of all the energon they can shove onto this bad boy (smack ship)! I think personally he's against the ideas at first, but then after some convincing and the thrill of running away after stealing stuff will get to him.

Sometimes in order to find where he went (he's a free spirit; of course he will disappear once in a while) is to let Heavy Iron out on a mission. Not even a moment later, BH will show up just to watch him get punched in the face when fighting cons; it's his favorite entertainment. The same method can be used for Heavy Iron.

Also, the kids would absolutely introduce him to Peter Pan.

3)

From the cartoon, we know the cardbots are terrified of monsters (lmao the rail climbing), and in TFP we have Insecticons + Predacons. I think the cardbots would be shocked by Predaking first since he's technically a dragon, but afterward they saw his mech form, so it's like a Sky Gallop situation but backward. If they had a chance, the cardbots would just surround him with questions, especially Shadow X, I think this is right up his alley.

On the other hand, Insecticons are to stay away no matter what.

The Autobots conveniently all forget to mention the vampire abominations Starscream made.

4)

I don't remember which episode it was, but the cardbots can go swimming with no problems, walking underwater even. This would surprise the Autobots since they do get rust and all sorts of stuff when they come in contact with water of any kind.

Because they're staying in a desert, sand's everywhere, so of course everyone is hella dusty and gross. Usually the bots would ask Fowler for solvents or go to the car wash. Fowler would be grumbling about the expenses since there are more bots now. The cardbots are like, "Don't worry, we can save the money," and just groundbridged themselves to the nearest lake to take a dip.

Ratchet nearly has a spark attack right there before being explained mcb biology, but he still checks them after these trips sometimes just to be sure.

5)

I love that the asks are starting to be about team healing now, we're progressing UvU.

However: Airachnid + trophy hunting.

The Autobots almost forgot about her until one incident where Shadow X or Blue Cop, said they felt someone had been watching them and maybe someone nearly got caught in a trap. Arcee warned them of her. Since mcb technically don't exist in TFP, they would be considered a rare species, not to mention they have individual abilities. She would absolutely try to hunt them.

Honestly, TFP is like a death world to them, where their own universe is bound by cartoon logic.

MCB x TFP crossover

Hello again!!! Even though there are a bunch of angst in this crossover it's always nice to have some funny stuff!!

I know about Sky Gallop, but I never thought about how team prime would react to them! The weapon cards from the cardbots confuse them already, those cards appear out of thin air!!! How is that normal!! But seeing Sky Gallop pull out a whole horse body out of thin air would break some of them. When Miko brings up the discussion Ratchet leaves the room, he doesn't want anything to do with that. Sky Gallop is about to follow after him

Black Hook is against it and then hears he gets to steal essentially treasure from the cons and is one board. Whenever he flies off with the energon you can hear him laughing as the cons chase after him. By this point whenever BH or HI disappears none of the bots panic anymore. They just send one of them in and it's all ok! They do panic if the other doesn't show though

The cardbots get used to Predacons eventually, the fact he has a root form helps lots. But the first time they saw him Bluecop's optics turned white, he was terrified about the dragon. I don't blame the Cardbots for being scared of the Insecticons, have you heard the sounds/screams they make? Those are scary, the cardbots could hear a distance scream of one and they would be running the other direction

Shadow X dives into the lake and Ratchet almost has a spark attack and would have honestly dive in after him to get him out if the others didn't stop him. Ratchet is like a lifeguard, his colors match! Shadow X does sometimes pretend to splash him and Ratchet throws a bunch of dirt at his face, dunking Shadow X back into the water, sputtering

It is nice that the bots had a bit of a break, but that's over, none of them can have a nice life on my blog, sorry y'all

Shadow X is very unnerved about being watched by someone who he can't see, he's the spy! Dexter goes out into the woods one day wanting to see some animals and almost gets caught by Airachnid. Airachnid wants to get her servos on one of them, and she's especially curious about the Metal Breath

Also, yeah, the tones between the two shows are very different, Metal Cardbot has the whole 'Friendship can overcome anything' thing going on and Transformers Prime kills Cliffjumper on screen in the first episode, the cardbots are tired of this universe

[mosertone]

via Volodymyr Vlad Kunko

I’m calling it as it is. I dont care whether you agree with me or not, just check your response with your gut. My gut never lies to me.

I’ve had my suspicions all along about this stooge. He’s not intelligent enough to pull this off by himself. We better hope that all the social security numbers and tax info that Muskrat just uploaded from SSA and IRS from every single american citizens account, doesn’t end up in Putin’s files. Whoever has that info can potentially wipe out every dime we have and can potentially fund a world takeover:

There is something rancid in America, a slow, creeping rot that smells like cold McDonald’s fries, aerosol hairspray, and the unmistakable musk of a country too sedated to recognize its own hostage situation. For years, the idea that Donald Trump was compromised by Russia was dismissed as paranoid fantasy—just another wild-eyed conspiracy theory, another overblown headline in the endless saga of American political dysfunction.

But now, two former Soviet intelligence officers—Alnur Mussayev and Yuri Shvets—are saying it outright: Trump was recruited by the KGB in 1987, groomed as an asset, and remains under Russian control to this day.

And the worst part? He’s already back in the White House.

That’s right, America. You did it. You walked face-first into the banana peel of history, slipped, and fell straight into the arms of Vladimir Putin. Trump was kicked out in 2020, spent four years plotting his comeback, and now he’s returned, like a bloated, orange cockroach that just won’t die. The Kremlin’s favorite stooge is running the country again, and this time, he knows exactly how to stay in power.

If you think this is just another round of the Trump Show, you’re not paying attention. This isn’t politics anymore. This is treason. This is foreign subversion. This is a goddamn coup in slow motion.

Let’s break it down, nice and simple.

Alnur Mussayev isn’t some Twitter conspiracy theorist with a tinfoil hat and a podcast. He’s the former head of Kazakhstan’s National Security Committee, which means he knows exactly how Russian intelligence works—because he was part of the system. And what he’s saying should make every American’s blood run cold.

According to Mussayev, Trump was identified, recruited, and compromised by the KGB in 1987 during his first trip to Moscow. They saw him for what he was: a narcissistic, greedy, attention-starved buffoon who could be easily manipulated. The KGB flattered him, promised him business deals, and planted the seeds of political ambition in his empty little head. And from that moment on, he was their man.

But Mussayev isn’t alone. Former KGB major Yuri Shvets said the exact same thing in 2021: Trump was cultivated by Soviet intelligence because he was an easy mark—too stupid to realize he was being played, too egotistical to care. They saw him as a useful idiot—a man who could one day be nudged into power, a walking, talking Trojan Horse for Russian interests.

And now? The plan has worked. Trump spent four years in office weakening America from within, got booted out, and now he’s back for round two.

If you had told the American public in 1962 that a Soviet-backed asset would one day sit in the White House, they would have burned Washington to the ground before letting it happen. But today? Nobody seems to care.

The media treats this like just another wacky subplot in the never-ending Trump reality show. Congress is too busy fighting over meaningless culture war nonsense to do anything about it. And the American public? Exhausted. Numb. Checked out. Years of scandals—Russia collusion, Ukraine blackmail, classified documents, tax fraud, sexual assault, an attempted coup—have fried the country’s brain like an overcooked steak at Mar-a-Lago.

Trump has done the impossible. He has committed so many crimes, so openly, so brazenly, that none of them matter anymore.

And now, with Mussayev’s revelation that Trump is an active foreign asset, we have finally reached the point where the biggest political scandal in American history is met with a collective shrug.

This is how democracy dies—not with a bang, but with a goddamn eye-roll.

This is the part where the skeptics start clutching their pearls. “Oh, come on,” they say. “If Trump were really a Russian asset, wouldn’t there be more proof?”

To which I say: Are you blind, or just willfully stupid?

Let’s go through the evidence, shall we?

Trump spent his entire first term doing exactly what Russia wanted. He attacked NATO, calling it “obsolete” and threatening to pull the U.S. out. He tried to blackmail Ukraine into manufacturing dirt on Joe Biden, because weakening Ukraine helps one man and one man only: Vladimir Putin. He pulled U.S. troops out of Syria, handing power over to Russian forces. He picked fights with Canada and Europe while cozying up to dictators.

Even now, in his second term, he is more openly pro-Putin than ever. He has made it clear that he will not protect NATO allies from Russian aggression. He is actively dismantling America’s alliances, just as Russia planned. And while Americans scream at each other over whether Target should sell rainbow t-shirts, Trump is quietly selling the country to the Kremlin.

At some point, you have to stop calling it a coincidence and start calling it what it is: treason.

The United States is running out of time. If Trump serves out this term without being removed, America as a functioning democracy is finished.

The media needs to wake up. Enough with the “Trump fatigue” excuse. This is not just another scandal—this is the single greatest infiltration of American power in history. Journalists need to dig into Mussayev’s claims, demand declassification of intelligence files, and treat this like the national emergency that it is.

Congress needs to subpoena Mussayev immediately. His testimony must be public, and every document he has should be reviewed. If there is proof that Trump has been compromised since the 1980s, the American people need to know.

The Justice Department needs to stop pretending that Trump is just another politician. If there is evidence that the sitting president of the United States is working in Russia’s interests, he must be removed from office and prosecuted for espionage.

And the American public? You have one last chance. This is not about Republican vs. Democrat. This is not about taxes, gas prices, or whatever nonsense outrage is dominating the news today. This is about whether the United States remains a sovereign nation, or if we spend the rest of the century as a Russian client state with a golf course.

The sheer volume of Trump's corruption, the blatant nature of his crimes, the mountain of evidence that should have ended his political career a hundred times over—none of it mattered. He survived it all, not because he was innocent, but because he drowned the country in so much scandal that nothing stuck.

But this time, it’s different. If Mussayev and Shvets are right, this isn’t just another chapter in the endless Trump circus. This is the culmination of a decades-long Russian intelligence operation to install an asset in the White House.

There is no coming back from this. If America lets Trump serve out this term without removing him, then the United States as a democratic republic is finished. The country won’t collapse overnight. There won’t be tanks in the streets. Instead, the destruction of democracy will happen in slow motion—buried under lawsuits, propaganda, and corruption so blatant that people stop caring.

If America lets this happen—if Trump is allowed to complete his mission—then Putin wins. The West crumbles. And the people who could have stopped it will look back, years from now, and wonder how they let it happen.

Good night, and good luck. Because if people don’t wake up, America is going to sleepwalk straight into its own funeral.

Hangnailias Nix

18h

Reply

[pomniegranate]

A horse .. a horse!! Of course it's a horse!!! Why didn't I get the big brained idea that they'd literally be strapped up and held hostage where a horse is! We're in a fucking western adventure! There's literal horses EVERYWHERE.

Her mind ran its course; having to be the one who's sane (and barely at that, she felt) out of the two of them was becoming too immense for her liking. Her hands rose to give a good frustrated tug at her hat's ends, pulling to her heart's content until she felt a little better about it. Pomni always had to go through some mini spiral first before her vision started to blur at the edges.

Even though she'd been ranting mentally, only mutters and disgruntled noises were heard. Her hands eased up on her body once realizing Kinger had insinuated a statue of a horse.

Wait a second... just a town over had a statue of a horse at the heart of the city. Could.. that be the statue he was talking about?

A step in the right direction at least. The jester was quick to put the gun's strap around her body, the weapon now resting parallel to the back of her shoulders and peering a bit above her head's horizon. Her pinwheels trained back to the chess piece and paid mind to his current singular eye. Guess it was time to play hero, huh?

⸺ ❝ Okay, okay. I think that's enough information to get an idea of where they're at but... we'll probably need to ride horses to get there faster. They're at that town where Caine initially transported us in at the start of the adventure, ❞ hands searched and found one another in front of her body, rubbing all the same in mild anxiousness, ❝ Do .. do you think you can ride a horse? ❞

Another feat she had no experience in, but they didn't exactly have the time to put aside and learn. Time was of the essence now with their friends potentially in danger.

It  was  an  absurd  notion  .  Survival  must  still  be  in-bedded  in  code  .  The  machine's  purpose  was  to  entertain  it's  𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒  GUESTS  .  Without  them  .  There  was  no  purpose  for  HIM  ,  so  he  six  slots  had  to  be  filled  &  adventures  must  be  embarked  .  ALL  DOWN  to  man's  desire  for  escapism  gone  rogue  . 

Content  to  entertain  no  matter  what  the  consequences  ,  derailing  &  finding  it  synonymous  with  adding  obstacles  ,  obstacles  that  could  wear  down  anyone's  psyche  ,  traumatize  &  break  .  &  𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄  it  has  .  Once  a  wise  man  reduced  to  little  more  than  a  shell  of  nerves  in  the  light  .

Her  voice  manages  to  break  through  the  barrier  of  obstructed  clarity  ,  the  eye  still  attached  to  his  '  face  '  rolls  to  focus  on  her  .  It  softens  with  apologies  .

❝   Oh  -  right  ,  right  .  Sorry  ...  ❞    He  is  quite  literally  their  only  eyes  right  now  ...  well  eye  only  one  of  them  had  manifested  in  a  point  of  interest  .  ❝  Assuming  you  mean  look  around  ...  OH  !  There's  a  giant  statue  of  a  horse  nearby  !  ❞  

[karrakincavalrycollege]

What is the KCC's mascot character

Our current mascot is Wander the Warhorse, pictured here in the window over our mech stables!

He's been our mascot ever since we got a few complaints about students who faced mockery at sports meets from those who didn't understand the rich history Karrakin Symbolic Traditions surrounding our old mascot system.

[metaphorical-goblin]

[thatswhatsushesaid]

i think fandom spaces would become much more enjoyable across the board if people stopped flipping their pancakes over other fans enjoying characters that they don't like. or, god forbid, like them but in 'the wrong way.'

[beanzismyname]

…why did I make this

[inconclusionray]

If I see one more "poor Izzy was in an abusive relationship for twenty years :'(" take I'm going to set this pirate ship on fire.

[ramblingsofafanatic]

[aemiron-main]

like how do people not realize that doug ford was canadian trump before trump was trump. before 2016. doug’s ALWAYS been a slippery two faced lying POS who’s willing to sell out canada for one corn chip. why are canadians forgetting this. you guys get ONE drop of “canadian patriotism” in your brains and throw logic out the window. your stupid generalized “we’re smarter and better than them/all americans are stupid,” superiority complex over all americans is sending you RIGHT DOWN THE SAME PATH THAT AMERICANS ARE GOING DOWN and you cant even see it!!!

[oldguardleatherdog]

let me start by saying, I'm okay to agree to disagree on this, and I respect you greatly as my queer elder. I hesitate to even send this because I don't think this cause is worth dogpiling (and not even the fun way) on anyone against and , like , I will continue to follow and admire you as a mutual who has been through a lot of the hell that I'm going through right now and got to a place I want to someday be. (for context, I am currently housing & food insecure and am trying to live in a queer-accepting city)

Posting will never be praxis, you are my brother in arms no matter what you call trump or cops or whatever. There are some fat liberation blogs that take issue with calling cops "pigs" for a lot of the reasons I bristle at calling Trump a fatass, and like, if someone is actively fighting cops who can and will actively hurt me and my found family, I don't care what names they shout while doing it. So I see where you are coming from and I'm glad you fight for me. I fight for us too, in what little ways I can while I keep me and my found family afloat. I do better work in the community just by existing around people as a living breathing transgender than I could do in a million posts on this website.

I do think that this is a valuable conversation to have, though, even though you are completely right that this is a trivial thing and not at all the bigger, more real issue at hand. I think it's still important, on online platforms such as this, to talk about how we refer to the other people on this planet.

Think about why you didn't call Trump a "retard". You certainly could have, it doesn't *not* apply to some of his behavior. I know people of our generations once used that word a lot, and we don't anymore. Why and when did we change that? I honestly don't remember. For me, my aunt was medically classified as "retarded" and she was the best person I'd ever met, so I decided that word shouldn't mean bad things. The first time I ever hit someone was over them using that word in a derogative way. it wasn't about "mental illness positivity" it was about humanizing the people that word has been used against - people who have been stigmatized and oppressed with that word.

Right now, hopefully, the same thing is happening to the word "obese". Fat people are less likely to be hired, granted loans or secure housing. they can be kicked out of airplanes and fired from their jobs because of their body size. There have been laws proposed to take fat children away from their parents and "treatments" proposed to wire children's jaws shut and starve them to make them thinner. They are often medically mistreated and misdiagnosed. I once went to a doctor with an ear infection and instead of antibiotics, he prescribed me *bariatric surgery.* I have been refused transgender top-surgery because of my BMI, which keeps me at a passively higher risk for self-injury and worse.

I do not care about body positivity. Honestly, between being fat, trans, and poor, I'm at a point where I've given up on ever feeling good about my body again. All I care about is getting jobs and meds and keeping a roof over my family's head and food on our table. Normalizing the idea that fat is a bad thing that anyone can change continues that stigma. When you use Fat as an insult, you are saying fat=bad. Fat is a neutral thing that some bodies can be, like short or tall or lean. The revolution needs to be intersectional, and body size is another axis of oppression that needs to be acknowledged, just like sexuality, gender, race, class, disability, etc.

If you've gotten this far, thank you for hearing me out. I'm sorry that others are just performatively parroting the same things over and over. Civility is bullshit, and if you still want to use body shaming as one of the ways you fight against bigotry, it doesn't really matter to me. Just as long as you acknowledge anti-fat bias as part of that bigotry too.

Thank you for writing and sharing your life experiences with me, and for your solidarity as well. You're striving to make your way as part of a despised minority in a world that's turned unspeakably harsh toward you in an aggressively mean way seemingly overnight, and I admire you for the life you have lived, for your courage and perseverance during this difficult time where resources are scant and your housing and food security is uncertain at best.

(FWIW, after I was bombed out of my Lower Manhattan home on September 11th, my income went from six figures down to nothing overnight, and I was homeless and destitute for years. Twenty years ago, I was where you are now, and I can tell you that what you're enduring today will not last forever, that there is light and hope and blessing in your future, that you're not as alone as you might think, that you must never give up.)

What more can I do to make the point that "fat" has nothing to do with this? As I've said, I grew up obese, and it wasn't until I enlisted in the Army at age 17 that I was able to free myself from my violent and abusive family and unlock the potential of the body that had been hidden under layers of fat and shame all my life. I know that my path is not for everybody, that many others are not so fortunate, and I ceased long ago to think that fat equals bad or lack of character or any other pejorative attitude that society has attached to it for generations. I hope I've made that clear and that you take my word as truth.

I am not saying "let's fat-shame Donald Trump to make him feel bad." I am saying that I'm deeply troubled by the LGBTQ+ community prioritizing hurt feelings over the very real damage that's being done to us right now all over the country by Trump, his minions, his proxies, and his cult of bloodthirsty followers and worshippers. Trump's accomplices in Congress and state legislatures and Moms For Liberty are taking over school boards all over the country, banning books and emptying library shelves and harassing teachers and librarians to the point where they're being run out of town, where the State of Missouri has defunded its entire public library system rather than follow a court order to restore books banned just for featuring LGBTQ+ characters.

DeSantis and Abbott have put in place policies that are unspeakably brutal, that are forcing trans people in Florida to slowly and brutally revert to their pre-transition state, that have given health care providers in Florida the right to deny treatment to you and me and all LGBTQ+ people because we are gay, lesbian, non-binary, trans... but God forbid we should call Trump mean names!

We've seen what happens when we buy into the "when they go low, we go high" fantasy pipe dream. This is not the way the world works, it has never been, and we need to put this loser idea in the trash bin where it belongs once and for all.

We're being attacked and harmed in unspeakable ways that are happening now. This is not theoretical or hypothetical. It's happening to us, to those we love, this minute and every minute of every day. And worse is in the pipeline - they're writing laws that will place us under virtual house arrest, that will regulate where we're allowed to go in our own cities and towns, when we're allowed to be seen in public, when and where we can shop, how we're allowed to dress, even what we're allowed to say and SING, for Christ's sake!

And I'm supposed to be concerned about some minuscule hypothetical percentage of my own people being OFFENDED because I'm somehow being insensitive and violating some trivial picayune social justice warrior philosophy, because there's a possibility of some fragile flower taking it personally, and that I should shut my mouth and let the MAGA nutjobs run roughshod over us? Oh, come let Daddy kiss it! while our brothers and sisters are suffering in real time. Sickening.

Anyone who has a problem with my stance doesn't have to follow me or emulate my proven effective tactics as an activist with 37 years of successfully defending our rights under my belt if they're so dainty and delicate and easily bruised. Everyone else that sees this for the strawman bullshit it is, get ready to hit the streets with bullhorns and whistles once again. We've got work to do.

Your arguments are strong and well-reasoned, and I accept and acknowledge everything you're saying. We can disagree on this, certainly, and still work together to turn back the progress that the MAGAs are making, restore our rights, and protect ourselves and each other. But that will require the snowflake contingent among us to get their collective head out of their collective ass, stop whining, and get with the damn program. Calling me names and telling me I'm being a bad gay activist is a waste of time and energy that should be spent fighting the fascists and the haters who are out to kill us.

And to you, my friend and fellow traveler with a radiantly beautiful soul and spirit, I urge you to hang in there, to keep the faith, to keep caring about life, to work with me to secure our own future and the future of our kind. I send to you my very best wishes, energy, and prayers that you will find your way to a place of health, security, stability, and love for yourself and for this precious community to whom we've both dedicated our lives, who mean the world to us.

Yours In Service, Animal J. Smith

[mossy-thing]

I think I've drawn more horses in the last three hours than in my entire life...