#because it keeps getting reenforced that. it might be okay

[everchased]

hahahahaaaa get safe and cared for, idiot

[fuesch]

Reread my Peter Maximoff truther theories, majority still valid, phew

My beloved car theory still holds up (except for my hope that Peter was already back in his own universe despite the car that represents him still being in the driveway - but now that we know he was brought in by neither Agatha nor Wanda, it makes sense that he'd still be in the MCU after Agatha lost her powers/Wanda took down the Hex), because even though Peter was already in Westview before the Hex, doesn't mean he lived in the house Agatha occupied.

How he got there: Okay, I can't tell if Peter had escaped the Hex as it was exploding into existence* (he certainly would be fast enough to achieve that) or had been trapped right away, but getting him to play the role of MCU!Pietro still could have been Wanda's subconscious recognizing him as a variant of her brother. I can't imagine Agatha having the power to bring someone into the reenforced Hex, so let's say Peter never made it out: What a crazy coincidence to pick the one guy in town who's perfect for that role! Unless Agatha actually does know something. …OMG, I just remembered that she had checked out the residents, maybe also him, so she might have known this wasn't his world and whose brother he is! The combo of Wanda subconsciously summoning Peter, Agatha seeing him appear on Wanda’s lawn and putting him under her own mind-control is still a possibility too. * I'm imagining him recognizing that red magic and (if we go by the fanon of Wanda having died in a blast of her own power) running from it and the trauma it brings back up, the quickly expanding Hex wall at one point reaching his foot & disabling the ankle bracelet, but he does manage to get away. He wouldn't remember that he'd been in Westview, but maybe that he'd been stuck in WitSec and that he's free now. Then imagine his horror when he gets sucked back into the Hex and again when Wanda took it down and made everything as it was before, including the ankle monitor working.

That theory is obviously void. But the good news about Peter being the witness is that, according to Jimmy, he has associates (Whoa, what if there are other X-Men already in the MCU?) and relatives in this strange universe. Our baby isn't alone. Maybe his Wanda is even there!

What if that's why the MCU's Wanda was apparently killed off (in that case I'd just like to complain that when there's some sort of doppelgänger of a character, most projects just chicken out of keeping both)? Maybe Peter's Wanda will hear that no one can get them back home, they're stuck in the MCU now, where they are pretty lonely as mutants - cue "No, more mutants!".

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance Short: Bud Like You (Eldest, semi-canon)

(A/N: So, I've been listening to Eldest on audiobook and wanted to do a few short MIC bits from around that timeline. I rewrote a reunion scene with Glen that I might be posting later, but for now have this weird short of Arya and Glen embarrassing themselves due to a promise they made decades ago. And yes. I ripped off AJR. Because I just now found their music and I'm enjoying it. I imagine this was used a lot during the Squaddies time and it's a fun little ditty that some in the Varden still use.

Also, yes, that says semi-canon because I'm not entirely sure if this is just a bit of fun or if it's considered an actual thing these two did during Eragon and Saphira's time training. I've been trying to soften some stuff for MIC for some reason and just wanted some of Arya and Glenwing being dorks.)

~~~~

Bud Like You

“Way up, way up, way up to the sky!”

“Hey! Louder!”

Eragon looked up from relacing his boots at the sound of someone yelling, confused by the intrusion. Saphira swiveled her head, tracking the source of the noise before letting out a snort of amusement. Behind Vanir the group of younger elves pointed and began snickering amongst themselves, some shaking their heads in what appeared to be disgust. 

‘What is it?’ Saphira refused to answer him, only letting out one of her peculiar coughing laughs. He stood and dusted off his knees before turning to see what exactly was going on.

He couldn’t help his own half choked off laugh, utterly bewildered.

The silver haired elf Arya had been speaking with the night of the feast was jogging backwards, keeping just out of reach of the aforementioned elf woman. Who was skipping. And yelling what seemed to be a song verse or cadence with a dark scowl on her face. 

“Way up, way up, way up to the sky! When everybody here is sneaking in and getting high! Way up, way up, way up to the moon! Boy it’s good to know I got a bud like you! Boy it’s good to know I got a bud like you!”

Across from him, Vanir pinched the bridge of his nose. “This again?”

Eragon swallowed his laughter. “This happens often?”  

“It’s apparently some ritual they picked up from their time with the humans.” The sneer was evident in the young elf’s voice. “Some sort of punishment or other.”

“Push ups, come on!” Glenwing chirped, clapping his hands enthusiastically. Even from here Eragon could see the ecstatic smile on his face. 

“I’ll bloody make you dead for real!” Arya’s snapped retort held a biting edge that was undercut by a bubble of laughter. 

“I can always add another lap! Two hundred, let’s go!”

“Bite me! Way up, way up…”

It continued like this through Eragon’s sparring session and beyond. It was a full three hours before Glen allowed his commander to slow and stop. “Okay, enough. I think you got it.”

Arya flopped onto the ground, panting. It had been months since she actually exerted herself quite so much, not in the ways they had done during their early field days. The exercise was good. But the singing had been…well. As humiliating as it was supposed to be. That’s why they had made this little pact after all. Vans had wanted a way to make sure his ragtag group of youths and men were sharing everything with the medic, and of course the slippery Withal had just the thing to reenforce the order. 

“So, what did we remember?” Glen’s grinning face filled Arya’s vision from where she squinted up into the pines above. 

“That you’re here to support me.” Arya wheezed. “And I’m here to support you.”

“Aaaand?”

“That I’m lucky to have a friend that cares so much.” 

“Aaaaaaaand?”

“That I shouldn’t try and hide new medical notes from you.”

“Why?”

“Because you give a shit.”

“And?”

“Because it’s a good way to end up dead.”

“And why don’t we want that?”

“Because the last time that happened it caused a political shitstorm.” Arya bared her teeth in a feral smile, the stitch in her side easing. “And because I’m getting really tired of hearing everyone say ‘I thought you were dead’ whenever I show up.”

Glen grabbed his CO by the wrists and hauled her to her feet. “There you go!” He let her brush herself off. “Now it’s my turn.” 

“Damn right it is.” Arya clapped her hands and made a shooing motion. “Start skipping, dumbass.”

“Way up, way up…”

[non-bee-knees]

SOOOOOO

I finished Rise! (And the movie)

Holy heavens what a show omg I can't believe I didn't find it sooner, I feel bad for past me who doesn't have it yet because WOW

I have never gotten attached to a character as fast as I have with Donnie; by the end of the first episode I had decided that if anything happened to him, I'd throw hands. 

All four of them (and April) are so fantastically written it's amazing I can't even muster the words to explain it.

Coming away from it, I have but One Question:

ARE RAPH AND DONNIE OKAY?!?"!?! Seriously, like????? We see both of them, at two seperate points in the show EACH (with some more Raph in the Movie) struggle with self worth. 

In Raph, his worth and doubts are because he feels he can't protect his family well enough, and it's crushing him, to the point where it manifests as Panic and Anger (which as someone who stuggles with keeping cool when angry, it's scary, how easily it could be to snap and hurt someone). I think that Raph's issues with worth are part of the reason Leo is now the leader; to try take some of the weight off Raph's shoulders (TOO BAD IT DIDN'T FUCKING WORK - que the entire movie)

In Donnie, his worth and doubt boil down to thinking he's replaceable. Personally, I think this comes mostly down to his Autism, and more so his brother's (and Dad) not entirely getting it. Sure we see that they understand to a point; they know he's weird with touch, and they never seem annoyed at his stimming, and it's only really Leo who get's annoyed at his Info-Dumping (aside from that one really funny clip from the fish episode - you know the one). Other than that though, I don't think they quiet get it, which is fair enough (I might make another post going more into this because it means a lot to me). ANYWAYS they're constantly joking in ways that always leans on Donnie being the odd one out, and whether they know it or not, it's hurting him. And it's built to worrying about whether he's useful or not. And yes, we get that fantastic April scene in 'Donnie V.s Witch Town' but one pep talk isn't gonna fix everything ( as someone who also struggles with worrying if I'm worth it, same. I'm constantly doubting myself, even despite the self-confidence I've built up recently)

This is long and I've semi forgot where I was going with it

BUT if we get a season 3 (praying, dear god, that we do) I want a Raph and Donnie episode. I don't think we got one that was just the two of them, we saw a lot more Donnie and Mikey adventures than the others (love their duo, so I'm not complaining). I want an episode, after the fact of everything that's happened, Movie and all, where we see Raph struggling more than ever to let go a bit more, especially after being used like that in the Movie - man's is probably terrified of himself. And I want to see Donnie struggling with grasping everything that happened (coming back to me here, woo, when big thing's happen, it's usually in the moment, or not til a long time later that they kinda settle into place; when my grandad died, I wasn't upset at the time, even though I understood why everyone else was. It wasn't until a year or so later that I sort of grieved). I sort of want to see Donnie do the same. It's sorta reenforced time and time again that Donnie is writen as low empathy, so let's see it. Let's see him unsure what to do when everything clicks into place and he doesn't know what to do, because 'Donnie doesn't feel things, why is he feeling things?!' 

I want to see the two oldest lean on each other as Leo and Mikey become more and more themselves, Leo with growing leadership skills, Mikey with his magic, and Donnie and Raph are able to sit back for a minute (but to them it feels like they're being put aside) and they learn to deal with it together. It wouldn't have to be a long episode, but I think it would be nice none the less.

Jesus this was long. SOzzles 😅

[pebblesrus]

Idk if this counts as hell au 3.0 or something else, but an au where Eliot hasn’t been working for Moreau and has really been living his best life with the team, and then hears that they’re being tasked with taking down Moreau, and specifically leaves the team to ‘rejoin’ Moreau in order to keep the team safe and take Moreau down from the inside

Added angst of Eliot disappearing off the fucking map for an indeterminate amount of time and the team freaking out but not freaking out, and Eliot having already left and gotten free of Moreau but going back anyways because he thinks it’s the only way to keep the team safe

—thieves-never-say-die

!!! i do think this would fall under the generalized eliot goes back to moreau au but i also love that au 

(i did one time write my own variation [cw temporary character death] which is a different type of unhinged for my brain)

but, may i present, hell au.......2.3, where eliot works for moreau for s1, doesn’t work for moreau for s2, goes back to moreau for s3. 

okay this one is pretty convoluted but i’m combining them for fun—

—

eliot is working for moreau when he joins leverage. moreau hears dubenich is putting together a crew of the best so he sends eliot to go spy. it goes okay. eliot is screaming internally the entire time, but the team dissolves before he can really get attached. at least that’s what moreau thinks.

eliot and moreau were having problems and arguing about morality and moreau figured, okay, i can loosen eliot’s leash, let him do some side low-violence-non-homicide jobs. it’ll fulfill this silly need he has and the fact that i’m letting him do it will reenforce that he belongs to me. plus, eliot will provide intel on a group that could be a future Problem.

but moreau was wrong about how strong his hold on eliot was, or maybe he was wrong about eliot’s true weaknesses, whatever it was, his eliot is gone. so, between s1 and s2 (the amount of time might need to be longer than in canon) eliot leaves moreau. 

this is my general hc of how eliot left, but basically, moreau lets eliot go. whatever he’s doing isn’t working, this is Plan B. let eliot go, let him see how cruel the world is, wait for him to come crawling back, more loyal than he was before. 

similar premise here—eliot is back with moreau full time after his year of robin-hood-ing but he’s different, slower to take an order, quicker to defy moreau. but at this point, eliot’s worked for moreau for ~6 years and for his entire career he’s been willing to do anything for moreau. so moreau lets him go. lets him have his personal crisis. knows he’ll come back eventually.

moreau doesn’t necessarily foresee the team coming back together, but when it happens he lets it. he keeps an eye on eliot, but stays out of it. (lets flip the timeline a little bit so the reunion job happens in s2, meaning that what the team is doing is actually helping moreau.)

but then nate announces they’re going after moreau. 

and eliot disappears. goes back to moreau, tells him the team is coming after him—it’s hell au 2.5 but the team still doesn’t know eliot ever worked for moreau and they sure as hell do not know he’s just gone back.

eliot’s part is basically the same as hell au 2.5, eliot’s back with moreau, following every order perfectly, using his insider knowledge to make sure no cons the team ran worked and tracking the team to “protect moreau” (read: protect the team), and is secretly working to (well, with the help of the team) take down moreau.

because—

nate ford has a weakness, it’s that he's pretending to be an honest man. [“you can’t con an honest man”—he would never expect hat eliot could con him]

eliot spencer has a weakness, he pack bonds with anyone who asks him to follow orders and promises him he can be something—or, it’s the team and it’s moreau and no one knows which is more important.

damien moreau has a weakness, it’s eliot.

—

how it all goes down: 

they find out that the rams horn is a bomb before ever meeting moreau. hardison says he’ll go because he knows the tech, he’s built one himself, after all. they let him because, well, they don’t have a better idea. 

plus, since they lost their hitter (and have refused to hire another), each member of the team has had to pick up their grifting abilities to better stay out of violent situations and they have taken up fighting lessons for the times they still can’t grift their way out of a situation. they think they have a handle on the situation. 

hardison grifts his way past the elevator (goons are notoriously dumb, even moreau’s goons) but when he walks into the room every gun is pointed at him (in canon, the guns were pointed at eliot, and not until chapman made the call, because eliot was the biggest threat in the room. but in this au, hardison is a standard problem.) 

or, 

—

Hardison leaves the catering cart in the elevator, straightens his tie, takes a deep breath, and does his best to channel the confidence he used to see in Eliot's shoulders every time he walked up to a goon and let them get one good punch in them before knocking them out.

“Moreau is expecting me.” 

To his surprise, the doors open. 

The chlorine air hits his lungs, he takes in the room, rows of men in suits. Eliot would know how to ID them. 

Hardison doesn’t see Moreau but he sees one man at the heart of the activity. Chapman. 

Even with his wealth of skills, Hardison barely found anything on the man, but he had heard rumors of Moreau’s chief enforcer and he had heard rumors of Chapman’s work. Chapman, who, up close, has no soul behind his eyes, must be the monster protecting Moreau. 

Chapman stands as Hardison approaches. 

When Hardison stops what feels like a thousands guns click. Eliot would have already counted the guns, counted the exists. 

"Moreau is expecting me.” Hardison repeats the line, his heart in his throat this time. 

“No, he’s not.” Chapman sneers.

A door* opens and—

Hardision’s heart drops out of his body.

Eliot walks out. 

“Yes, he is.”

Chapman visibly submits to Eliot’s words and every gun in the room lowers and Hardision heart actually fucking stops for a beat. 

—

[*not the sauna.....for personal reasons. eliot is in a suit, shirt buttoned up all the way, tie perfect, etc.]

i am not going to write the rest of this scene this second but uhh now it lives in my brain so......that will happen soon, unfortunately.

[summerdazed]

Hi, how are you doing? Uh, this is my first time asking so I'm a bit embarrassed. But if you have the time and energy can you write relationship headcannons on sushi and bird if their S/O is South Asian (or just a foreigner in general). Thanks and please take care of yourself!

Oooh I like this request! However, I’m sorry but I will not be writing a South Asian S/O because I really don’t want to offend anyone. So these will be from a foreigner’s perspective with some American things thrown in since that’s the thing I’m most familiar with. If you just don’t like it at all feel free to request something else and I’ll try again!

244 and Seongjoon with a foreigner S/O

244

Honestly I can only think of three places you ever run into this man and those are on a run, wherever the hell he gets his animals from, or maybe buying cosmetics. Either way, he’s going to take note of you but you’ll probably have to keep coming around or do something to catch his interest.

You’re going to think I’m lame and cheesy but I love it when future lovers have their first meeting by running into each other. So, birdie here is probably best case scenario for that though it might annoy him slightly. But hey it gives you a chance to ask him for coffee or something!

Anyway, probably interested in where you’re from and your culture not just because he probably does something like a background check on you but just because.

He’s pretty busy but would definitely celebrate a holiday or something with you if you asked. In return would show you some things specific to Korea but I don’t really see him as going out of his way to do that. If you ask though he will.

Presents. Ask for it and it’s probably yours. Especially if it’s makeup or pretty clothes. He likes it when you dress up for him what can I say?

Imagine if his cute little bird liked you better than him? Hilarious. One of the few times you see a negative expression on his face. I doubt you’ll know anything about the XJ Company but let’s say you go on a date to Sushi’s restaurant and the bird is on your shoulder or something when you walk in. Sushi obviously going to notice and mentions something to 244 much to his ire

If he doesn’t like your skincare and makeup routine he’s buying you new products and changing it whether you like it or not. Probably makes you sit through lessons so you know what you’re doing. Lmao I had a funny thought! He makes you run through your new routine then grades you at the end

I mean I know he’s rich and successful but are you sure you want to take this man home to visit your parents? If so you better just have them fly to you. All expenses paid by your lovely boyfriend of course.

Obviously is going to make a great impression regardless because he already has multiple masks to wear for work so what’s another one to impress your family?

Now here’s a fun little thought I had. Now he probably keeps you away from whatever work he’s doing for one reason or another. Let’s say though that you start putting two and two together and start snooping. Granted, I doubt this bitch has a paper trail but don’t be surprised when he turns on you after he finds out. And you can honestly kiss your home county and family goodbye cause you ain’t seeing it again

Anyway, overall 7/10. And don’t come for me cause I love this man but he’s only going to be interested where you came from and all the things like that to a certain extent. 10/10 cause he’s sexy as hell and my type

Seongjoon

After the last chapter this last chapter, I have seen him in a new light and have converted into a shark simp. That being said I apologize if these are short or seem off.

What do you know he’s a foreigner too! You, however, won’t know that. Most likely anyway.

Let’s say you went to K-star and met him there. To catch his eye you would have to act the complete opposite from his many adoring fans. So let me set the stage, you and your friend went to go see their favorite newtuber in person. You thought that really the only reason he’s famous is because he’s pretty and we’re being very vocal about it. Now fish boy probably just ignore you at first but if you kept it up he would eventually say something. And that’s how mommy and daddy met-

Okay so I’m sorry to break it to you but he wouldn’t care that much about where your from. Would definitely jot it down cause it sounds like he records and has records of everything.

Would begrudgingly celebrate holidays. Please for the love of god force this man into an ugly ass Christmas sweater and take a picture. Of course he’d make you delete it but that’s why you don’t clean out your recently deleted folder

Best person to share a bed with. Such a pretty sleeper and doesn’t hog blankets. Two problems though. Man is a fucking furnace and sometimes takes up too much room. That’s when you just shrug off the blankets and lay on top of him or you’re either going to be on the floor or smushed

Tbh this man probably smells like fish so I hope you like seafood bby no I will not elaborate further

Doesn’t let you cook. Ever. Why would you even need to when you have a sexy chef boyfriend that can take off his shirt if you ask nicely

Best partner to take home to mom and dad. I mean look at him. He’s perfect and will make sure everything goes perfectly

I could see him flying to your home to meet your parents. Especially to reenforce that he is a good boyfriend and great husband material

I don’t think it would happen very often and you two would have to be extremely close but he sometimes lets you play with his hair and tells you little slivers of his past

Overall 8/10. Hot and mostly well mannered

————

So uh I really don’t know how to feel about these but I hope they’re long enough and you like them dear anon

[joyinlov]

so i finished howls moving castle and omg

as expected, howls moving castle had a beautiful ending to a beautiful story. Diana Wynne Jones is a genius; this book was absolute perfection. the last 20 or so pages might just my favorite pages out of the whole book; everything ties together perfectly. here’s just some of my favorite quotes from the last few pages to the end:

1.

okay so i love that howl tells sophie that “she can’t be successful or fortunate because she’s the eldest” is garbage!! now i love this, because this whole time she was fully capable of finding her fortune, but her ideologies of being the eldest and her reenforcement of her sense of self was holding her back, and howl knew this. it’s why he couldn’t break her curse; sophie had to do it alone. Second of all, the fact that sophie’s jealousy was so visible that howl was counting on her to not let miss angorian in..... IS JUST SO FUNNY.

2.

“that fool sophie” ahhhhh his first awaking thought being that he’s hungover and his second is to save sophie. howl is always trying to come to sophie’s rescue wether she knows it or not, like when he tried to break her curse and ended up only being able to take away her aches and pains, sending away the scarecrow, fighting off the witch of the waste, not wanting her to push herself and ordering her to stay in the castle ;even though she took it as his attempt to keep her out of trouble), etc!! he truly cares so much about her :(

3.

SCREAMS. he LITERALLY admitted that 18 year old sophie had been living in his head rent free !!!! he WANTED old sophie to be the girl he met on may day! i cant get over it. lovely girl lovely girl lovely girl lovely girl lovely girl oh to be called a lovely girl by howl.

4.

i have this paragraph memorized because of how many times i’ve read it over. oh to live happily ever after and be exploited by Howl.. :’””(

5.

all i’m imagining when i read this is howl and sophie gripping eachothers hands and gazing sweetly and softly into eachothers eyes, as if nobody else is in the room with them. this is enough to make me cry

6.

at this point i was deadass just crying.

AND AT THIS POINT IM SOBBING!!!!!!!!! what a lovely way to end the book thank you diana wynne jones for this lovely story. and thank y’all for listening to my ted talk this is my favorite book in the whole world!!! i’ve never loved a story as much as i love this one

[alakema]

ds Dreammare: Burn

Previous chapter: https://alakema.tumblr.com/post/645649623479943168/ds-dreammare-calm

Dreamswap belongs to onebizarrekai

Trans male Nightmare. Some years after Dream’s betrayal. Have yet to meet Error. And yes, I’m aware conceptionelized isn’t a word, but this is Nightmare okay?

--

Nightmare’s point of view:

It’s been two years. Two entire years since I met Cross, and I’ve yet to tell him anything important about me : my transsexuality, my gayness, my past with… ‘Today’, I decided ‘I will tell him everything.’ Well, after I escape JR’s prison anyway. Yeah, trying to paint ‘Nightmare was here’ with a doodle of me looking over a wall, when all of JR was on high alert because of a traitor, might not have been my best idea. I regret nothing.

I hear footsteps coming this way. For a moment, I fear this is Dre-… Him, but all I see is a friendly Cross getting dragged along by the arms, thrown and chained into the same jail as me. Convenient. I wait until I’m sure the guards won’t hear us, then I move a little closer to him (as far as the chains are letting me).

“ Hey man, you’re alive?” I ask jokingly.

He doesn’t respond, unmoving. He isn’t dead, I can still feel his emotions; so he is either ignoring me or asleep. Meh, I’ll kick him anyway (to wake him up or to punish him, for me it’s a win-win). The Oreo yelps as he flinches in a straight position. The glare is more of a reward than an intimidation. I only snicker as I question him on why the fuck is he here. To save me? Well fat luck doing that now, inside a prison. He defends himself, and mutters about ungrateful little brat.

“ I’m not little damnit. I’m a full grown man!! - You’re as short as a girl! - Well excuse me, you dimwit, for being born one! - What? - W h a t?”

Oh. My. Fucking. Dog. I    D I D   N O T. No way, nopity nope. Nuh huh. The way he looks at me right now. As if I was never really in front of him all this time. Tripping over his word in front of this revelation, revelation he should have already known. It’s not that I think he isn’t worthy of it, I was just- worried, I guess. I didn’t think I would reveal it under that kind of circumstance. I look around to see if anyone else heard us. But the guards are at the entrance, far away from our sail. And yet, I’m not reassured in the slightest. Fuck. Damnit, this isn’t how I wanted to tell him. He shouldn’t have known over a throw-away line said in an argument. Not like this, not now. Not here, of all places.

“ Sooo… I’m lost. - No, you’re Cross.” I try, in an attempt to derail his train of thoughts. It doesn’t work, since this asshole ignores me entirely. “ Are you a girl or a boy? Cause, the first time we met, you told me you were a boy, but now, you’re saying you’re not. - God damnit, Oreo. I’m a fucking trans masc! - Trans what?”

‘Don’t you dare make the puppy face-… He’s making the puppy face.-_- ’

**

Explaining to my friend what transsexuality means is like explaining a toddler the conception of the stars… When you don’t know how the stars are conceptionelized. Needless to say, I regretted telling him. But when he finally, finally understood the meaning, he only told me:

“ No matter what, you’re still my bro, bro.”

Well shit if that didn’t make me cry. (This is the only time I’m ever crying in front of him. I swear on my chicken’s honor, never again.). We talked a bit more after that. Meaningless shits, mostly. But hey! They’re funny meaningless shits, so I don’t care. I can almost forget I’m behind bars, in JR’s prison. But I’m hungry, and I know it’s time for supper; the guards are late, I wonder why. When footsteps come our way, this time I can feel it. Powerful, certain, determined. Familiar.

It’s him.

I let a shaky breath. His aura burns me to the core, and I’m sure he knows it. But I don’t give a flying fuck. I’m strong, I can handle it. Just as I finally put myself together, a bright glow enters and bathes the flimsy place in an unnatural, otherworldly atmosphere.

“ We finally caught you.”

I don’t answer him even as I stare defiantly at his silhouette. In truth I’m at lost for words. Oh, god it hurts. His voice, his eyes. So different and yet so achingly familiar. Unwelcoming and yet so addicting.

“ Tell me, where did you find your…accomplice, all this time away from me?”

‘Why do you care, you feathered asshole?’ I want to snarl, my voice still lost in the past. Instead, I can barely whisper :

“ Non’yer fucking business, you prat. - Humph. As impolite as ever, sister. But it doe- - Brother.”

Cross, buddy, my dude, my bro. What  the fuck  are  you doing? One: just because I didn’t tell you to keep it a secret, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t have kept it a secret. And two: even I know you just don’t interrupt him if you don’t want to be in more trouble than you already are! And yeah, I know I’m one to talk, but it doesn’t matter in the end, since he wants me dead. Drea- HE is shocked as well, if I can still read him correctly.

(I can. And it burns. I can still read a familiar stranger, and it burns!)

His magnificent feathered prick starts, slowly:

“ What… Is the meaning of… This, sister? - Are you deaf, you shitty tosser? He said ‘brother’. - I am quite aware of what he said, and what the word means. My question is why did he tell me, affirm me even, that you are my brother? - ‘Cause I am.”

The leader of Justice Reigns frowns deeply in disapprobation (and why does my heart tightens still?). He demands that I “do not lie to me again. I am not here to mingle with your absurdity”. Fed up with his bullshit, my voice rises to a deeper, steadier tone, even though my body weakens.

“ We’re not lyin’, your stupid birdbrain! I’m a man, always have been. Would have told you if I had had the time, you know, back when we were still together.”

Bitterly, I notice he doesn’t even flinch at the accusation, unperturbed.

“ Duly noted. However, this has nothing to do as to why I am here currently. Take her…him to your laboratory.”

Wait, what? True enough, people behind that bastard, in white coat, are advancing toward. Like hell I’m being a guinea pig! I trash around, hoping for some kind of miracle, and Cross kicks and screams, in vain. He expands and reenforce his power on me, knowing full well the effect he has on me.

The last thing I see before I’m taken away for good is my Cross, scared and small, and a Dream I wish I could forget.

**

I don’t remember what happened at the laboratory. All I know is that my whole body is burning in new, unfamiliar flames. My limbs are singed ruins (my heart is ashes). Breathing is hard (Crying is harder). My friend is worried about me, but I can’t even summon the force to care anymore. I let him scream and plea for a response, but it’s too late for me. I’m burned, hurt and broken.

And I hate myself for it.

--

Next chapter: https://alakema.tumblr.com/post/646082387364790272/ds-dreammare-depart

[cakepopple]

@nisekoi You said I could write for my anon message, and to let you know when I did! (I’m gonna reblog the actual ask with a link to this fic on my ao3 instead of the whole fic cuz it’s thicc ;-;)

— (word count: 2586) —

In early autumn rain, the earth smells something divine and Lance’s heart beats something light and warm. 

Though he’s had various reasons to enjoy them throughout his life, Lance has always loved the humid and gentle storms of the cooler months. When he was little, he loved them because every now and then, the heavy rain would flood the streets, and school would be cancelled. When he started going to the Garrison, he loved the storms because they reminded him of afternoons back home, of whiling away countless evenings, sitting on the porch with his brothers and sisters, swatting at mosquitoes. And when he first became a paladin, he loved and missed the rain because, when he thought of it, he could smell it in his memories, nostalgic and familial, despite how unattainable it had been. 

Now that he’s home, he still loves the rain, but for a thoroughly different reason.

“What do you mean the parking garage is full?” Lance sits in the passenger seat and he stares sightlessly at his phone screen, trying to distract himself from laughing at Keith’s exasperation. His boyfriend has the window rolled down, and his hands are tight around the steering wheel, which is clearly the one thing keeping him from going off the deep end. In his peripheral, Lance can only see the back of his head. Lance notices how the mere twenty seconds or so the window has been open has made Keith’s hair entirely drenched. “These are spots for the event, right?” Lance glances up from his phone to see the woman inside the booth nod, face taut and nervous. “The event celebrating the paladins of Voltron,” Keith clarifies, and she nods again; she’s even more sheepish. “We’re the paladins of Voltron!” And now, Keith throws his hands in the air, and they clap limply down against the horn. Sharply, it honks, before his fingers return to strangling the edge of the wheel. Finally, Lance gives in to the ridiculousness of the racket and snickers into his palm.

Keith gives him a downright nasty look.

The woman in the booth slips a hand out of her box, pointing down the road the duo pulled up from. “There’s another parking garage a couple blocks down,” she suggests weakly. 

The groan Keith musters makes Lance snort loudly. Begrudgingly, Keith puts the car in reverse, but keeps his foot on the break until he has the chance to bitterly murmur, “But it’s raining.” 

One hand releases the wheel to wipe water off of his face before he rolls the car out of the driveway, nose wrinkled in frustration. 

“It’s okay,” Lance says. “We’ve got umbrellas in the back seat! A couple blocks is nothing us paladins of Voltron can’t handle.” Keith flicks him a sidelong glance, perhaps meant to be snide, but it comes out mild. To reenforce his point, Lance is the one who offers to walk in the rain to the back seat for the umbrellas, once Keith finds a place to park. And when he’s halfway into the second row of seats, he conveniently pretends he’s just remembered his umbrella isn’t there (It’s safely tucked into his closet back home, where no one will think to ‘helpfully’ find it—but Keith doesn’t need to know that). He passes the singular umbrella up to his boyfriend in the front. “I guess I left mine at home,” he remarks, pretending to be absent minded about the statement, when the intention of this ‘accident’ is clearly scrawled in the smile on his lips. 

Keith’s mood changes so quickly, Lance thinks he might have broken the sound barrier.

“Oh?” Keith leans over the center console of the car, face pressing close to where Lance’s bunched cheeks hover on the other side. He takes the umbrella, a smooth and devious grin blooming on his face, and one of his brows twitches upward in mock question. Yet comprehension is written in his eyes; he doesn’t need to ask how Lance had supposedly forgotten. His fingers twiddle along the handle of the umbrella. His eyes drift up and down Lance’s face. His lips quirk back, so his teeth shine through his smile. “Is that so,” he breathes, and Lance doesn’t shrink the pride on his features, though he’s begun to feel a sweeping warmth dancing up his spine. The tickling sensation pushes him forward—his nose brushes with Keith’s—so he can peck his boyfriend on his cupid’s bow. Rolling his eyes, Keith opens his car door and pops his umbrella undone as he slips out. 

Lance follows him, scurrying to catch up to Keith. Not so much as a heartbeat after he gets there, Keith compensates for the need to share the umbrella. He lifts his arm so Lance can shimmy his shoulders under it, and Lance smooths a kiss on his cheek in thanks. 

Their sides are flush; Lance relishes in the contact. They’ve got half an hour before the event they’re here for begins, so Lance is in no rush to escape the rain. Not if it means leaving Keith’s touch behind. He fully intends to savor every moment of contact he can. 

It’s unfair how warm Keith’s skin manages to be. Constantly. There is a perpetual drive deep in Lance’s stomach—and at the base of his skull, in the curve of his spine, along the tips of his fingers, everywhere—to be close to Keith. One moment, he feels the desire to tangle his hands in Keith’s hair, to brush his palms over his boyfriend’s warm scalp. And then, right as he begins to consider satisfying the impulse, he’s struck with the need to kiss somewhere else, like his shoulder. Or to lean his cheek there, or to simply rest his chin along the fabric of his shirt, if only to breathe closer to him. Once again, though, Lance simmers with a different inclination. This time, maybe it’s to hold Keith’s hand, to kiss his nose, to kiss the tip of his ear. There’s an unsatisfiable itch to shut his eyes and enjoy basking in the body heat Keith is so willing to share. One craving comes after another, after another, all for the sole purpose of being close to Keith. The mere idea of fulfilling those wants tastes intoxicating. 

And yes, Lance knows Keith’s heat isn’t really the reason he’s pining.

Keith hums to himself, seemingly no longer peeved by the storm. Lance selfishly thinks—profoundly wants to believe—it’s because his boyfriend also enjoys the lack of distance between them. He greedily hopes Keith also feels the buzz of affection in all his joints at the comfort they share. Pleads the feeling is something familiar for Keith, like it is for Lance.

Lance feels the same about Keith now as he’d felt about rain while in space. He’d swallowed the lump of longing in his throat while among the stars, a longing formed from the sheer intensity with which he’d needed to feel the rain against his skin. And now, that sensation is doubled; it’s the desperation with which he chases after Keith’s touch. Keith’s hands, addictive and gentle on his nape when they kiss, Keith’s scalp under his scrabbling fingers when they pull apart, Keith’s lips on his neck, Keith’s teeth when he smiles against the same spot. 

The intensity haunts him, even now, though there’s not a millimeter of distance between them.

When Lance stares up at his ceiling in bed at night, he thinks of Keith, like he used to stare at the stars through a window of the castleship and think of Earth. Of home. 

Yeah, he thinks that’s what Keith is.

Home.

“You’re completely transparent, you know,” Keith says softly. Lance turns to him, suddenly ensnared by the intimacy in his voice and his tender, half-lidded eyes. Keith stares at the inside of the umbrella as he talks, following the silhouetted trails of raindrops as they drip in swirls down the plastic. His expression is truly immeasurably fond. Lance knows it’s not the rain he’s fond of. Every day, Keith makes it clear just what he loves so much.

Lance smiles, watches the droplets with Keith for a while, then nudges his boyfriend with his elbow. “Would you rather I play hard to get again?” There’s mirth in Keith’s gaze when he lets it fall across Lance. And the usual sweet, fixated adoration. He switches which of his hands holds the umbrella so he can tangle their fingers together. 

Quietly, like it’s the rain whispering to Lance, Keith says, “No.” He leans over to kiss Lance’s temple. Something so simple makes something so complex and pleasant knot in Lance’s gut. Wrinkling his nose and eagerly accepting the touch, he laughs, and then sighs when Keith moves to look at the expanse of sidewalk ahead of them once more. “No, I like what we have now,” he reiterates. 

“Yeah,” Lance says. His response is almost too smothered in love to understand. As if Lance’s love is gallons upon gallons of sugar water, and his voice is a bubble sifting and wobbling to the top. Keith doesn’t seem bothered by it.

Silence gingerly takes their walk, leaving Lance to his thoughts of Keith’s scarred cheek and his touch, which carves soft, endearing scars all along Lance’s heart. And then Keith speaks again, passing the umbrella to Lance. “Hold this,” he mutters. Lance does, wincing at the chill of the metal handle, and he glares at his grip on the item, as if he can blame his fingertips for being cold. Then, there are even colder fingers on his cheeks. 

The umbrella is tight in Lance’s hold, clenched desperately, because he is certain that as soon as he begins to loosen his hands, it’s as good as gone. Keith’s fingers are splayed across his cheekbones, thumbs drawing circles close to his lips. That motion alone has Lance ready to fall over, his heart pounding so fast that the umbrella trembles. And when Keith slides one hand to Lance’s chin, it pushes a lovestruck note past the tightness of Lance’s throat, curled to sound like his boyfriend’s name. 

Tugging Lance closer with his icy hold, Keith presses their lips together, and Lance’s hands itch to touch Keith. His arms shake, begging to wrap around his boyfriend’s neck. And when fingers knot in the back of Lance’s shirt, he arches his chest closer, compensating for the contact his hands can’t satisfy. One of Keith’s palms remains where it had initially flattened against Lance’s jaw, and its fingers curl to the tender spot behind Lance’s ear. At the same time, Keith smooths their lips to just the right angle, so the two can feel the perfect amount of proximity. His lips are the perfect warmth, and his hands are the perfect pressure, and his taste is the perfect blend of sweet and strong. And Lance feels himself falling, losing his grip on his focus, slipping away into the hold Keith has on his cheeks and his spine and his heart—

The umbrella slides from his hands.

Keith pulls apart—Lance murmurs an incoherent, desperate sound of pleading as he pursues his boyfriend’s retreat—and stares downward, at the item’s impact. He shakes his leg, nodding at the stains the umbrella’s splash left on his pants. “Aw, man,” he mutters, only a fraction of sincerity in his voice. “They’re ruined.” Lance shakes his head. 

“They are definitely not ruined! It’s just water.” His head is still dizzy, like he’s barely woken up (which isn’t that far off), and his words come out shaky. Though he knows he ought to pick the umbrella up, he still wants to brush his fingers through Keith’s hair, and his hands are finally free to do so. The desire is so strong, but he resists, instead reaching for the umbrella. Keith snatches it first and captures Lance’s grasping fingers with his other hand. He uses the tangle of their fingers to draw Lance along as he lifts the umbrella up over their heads.

“First you take my umbrella, then you drop it,” he quips. Yet his arm lifts for Lance to snuggle under again as they walk, despite the bite in his words. “Next time you forget your umbrella, I’m making you walk in the rain.” But he’s still got Lance completely under the shared umbrella, even though one of his shoulders is is out of the cover to make space for him. With his free hand, Lance pushes the umbrella so it’s split equally between them.

Smugly, he shakes his head. “You wouldn’t.” And Keith looks at him, blinking slowly and narrowing his eyes. Lance gives him a loving smile, spreading all his affection and all his gratefulness along the part in his lips. Keith slyly returns the grin, slow, as if it’s something he doesn’t want to admit. As if he doesn’t want to agree quickly. But Lance knows—in this moment, more than he knows anything else—that his assumption is right. The love in Keith’s actions is too formidable to push aside; Keith would never deny him anything. All he needs to do is ask.

Keith brings their joined hands to his lips to kiss Lance’s knuckles. The yearning in Lance’s stomach simmers for the hundredth time in the last hour, boiling over in an instant, until Lance is lightheaded and mindless all over again. He’s so thankful. Overwhelmingly, heart stoppingly thankful, because there’s nowhere he’d rather be than here, nothing he’d rather be doing than walking alongside Keith. Because it’s Keith. It’s always Keith. He swears it always will be Keith. His favorite place will always be right where he is at this moment: nestled as close to his boyfriend as he can physically be.

Lance has always loved the rain. It was a memory he cherished while he was away from home, a piece of Earth he took with him across every galaxy he could ever imagine, tucked safely in his heart. It had been the smell of his childhood, the smell of a home he couldn’t reach. Now, it’s an excuse to do things he doesn’t need excuses to do. An excuse to be close to Keith, even though he knows he’ll be received with open arms no matter what.

“You’re right,” Keith says. He releases Lance’s hand to card his own through the hair stuck to Lance’s forehead. His eyes are deep and loving and infinitely sentimental. He kisses the spot he’d revealed, and when he pulls away he’s looking directly into Lance’s eyes, smiling. Rain is on his cheeks, in his hair, dotting his lips like twinkling beads of blown glass. The ones in his hair glow the same shade as his eyes. They catch the light, but their hold on the sun is nowhere near as magnetic as the hold Keith has on Lance’s stuttering heart. Squeezing, but in the sweetest, most doting way, until nothing is left in his lungs but the honeyed scent of their intoxicating love. “You’re definitely right. I never would. I’ll take any excuse I can to hold you. I love you too much to deny you anything.”

Catching Keith’s hand, Lance grins as he swings their arms a few times. He sings, “I know! I love you, too, you beautiful sucker!” Keith laughs and his hand squeezes around Lance’s, pulling them both tighter together. The taste of love is sugary in Lance’s mouth, vivid enough to stay with him for days.

Yeah.

Lance definitely loves the rain. 

☆find me on ao3☆

[taggedmemes]

SENTENCE MEME ⟶ PLEASE LIKE ME / 2.04 –– 2.05 always feel free to tweak the sentence to fit your muse.

“Why would you pay someone to not touch you?”

“There’s just like, billions of people that’ll not touch you for zero dollars.”

“Do you go to restaurants and pay them to not feed you?”

“I can never understand why middle class white people think that Asians are magic.”

“Why can’t you just let people believe what they want to believe?”

“I’m looking for someone who’s, like, kind and gentle, friendly. That’s not you.”

“Are you hungry? I ordered too much food.”

“Hey, do you think I’m nice?”

“I wanted to, like, argue with him but I didn’t feel that confident, you know?”

“I can reenforce that you’re an okay lady, if you like.”

“I was gonna make you some breakfast, but I didn’t know what time you’d be up.”

“All these chats where you told me that I’m too fragile for casual sex, they haven’t been about me at all, have they?”

“I was just concerned you might still like me too much.”

“We chatted about it heaps and you agreed we were just friends, right?”

“I am still a human with feelings and you just want to use me as a flesh shag.”

“You are so pathetic.”

“You’re lazy, and you have no self-esteem.”

“He’s like a puppy that shat on the rug. What’s the point in getting annoyed?”

“I don’t think that went very well.”

“I feel bad about famine, places that used to rent out DVDs, you know.”

“If you want to be with her so much, just be with her.”

“I’m politely expressing disappointment.”

“You’ll hate the baby for trapping you in, like, a miserable marriage.”

“I think I’d do a good job of pretending to like my family.”

“You’re not really interested in caring about others.”

“I don’t want to watch you piss.”

“Yes, I have pissed myself.”

“I freaked out and accidentally ate a whole packet of party mix.”

“We got a bit carried away and it was fun.”

“Who’s on their period in this house?”

“Is nobody wearing pants anymore?”

“You’re gonna have to tell her not to flush tampons down the toilet.”

“I just think you’ve the responsibility to talk to her about it.”

“The guy who was sitting next to me? I think he ate all of my cheese and crackers while I was asleep.”

“He’s been really mean to her and then, over-committing to offset his guilt, bought her a rabbit.”

“[Name] got a flatmate because they thought the flatmate was pretty and they fell in love with the flatmate. Then the flatmate kissed them because the flatmate was bored. Then [name] pissed their pants.”

“You should be delicate with [name] today because they’re sad.”

“I think, to him, kissing me was, like, a joke.”

“Every time I bail you out, you never learn anything.”

“I don’t know what I was meant to learn from this.”

“There was a swastika drawn there, and I thought it’d be better off if, instead of that, there was a house drawn there. Do you know what I mean? Because nazis are bad.”

“I was vandalizing, but in a noble way.”

“I look at you, and I think you’re lost.”

“You have to decide whether you want to be somebody or just anybody.”

“I think I’ve mollycoddled you.”

“It’s time you started taking some responsibility for something.”

“I never know how she’s gonna react to things.”

“I’ve got news and I can’t keep it to myself.”

“I need to convince myself this is good so I can be supportive later.”

“I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I need you to know that I’m sorry.”

“I really like hanging out with you. Is that was friendship is?”

“I am so jetlagged and this is hell.”

“The time I went to do gymnastics is the sixth most humiliating moment of my high school years.”

“How long have you thought I had weird toenails?”

“I cannot begin to imagine what you mean by that.”

“I was on the toilet and I saw the tampon sitting there and I realized that I’d never seen one and that’s weird because they’re a big part of the world, they’re important and I’d never seen one, not up close. So, I unwrapped it and I took a good look. Pulled it apart a bit to see how it’s made and then I flushed it.”

[jaysworlds]

Whumptober Day Eighteen

Something feels … off. Esther can’t quite put her finger on what it is, but it feels wrong, and she doesn’t like it.

It might be Micah’s fault. It might be her father. It might just be her, but whatever it is, it’s wrong. Something’s wrong.

It’s not her. She’s sure it’s not her, because why would it be her? She can trust herself, trust her own senses. It can’t be her.

Her father is … off. Something’s strange about him these days, but she barely sees him, and she’s sure it’s not him either.

She never sees Jonah, either. He seems to spend all his time with their father, and she seems to spend an awful lot of time with just Micah and Daryn.

It can’t be Daryn. Esther trusts Daryn, and she’s only young, the baby of the family.

Micah, then.

The more she thinks about it, the more it makes sense. He hasn’t been talking to her so much recently, spending more and more time in his own head.

Does he not trust her? What reason could he have not to tell her everything.

They’ve always been close. Their whole lives they’ve been close, so why choose now to start deceiving her?

She doesn’t know if he’s ever lied to her, exactly. It doesn’t matter, really, he’s still been deceiving her, every time he doesn’t tell her something.

He’s planning something. She’s sure he’s planning something, something that involves her, or Daryn, and she won’t let him hurt either of them.

Perhaps he’s a traitor. Like their mother. Perhaps he’s going to sell them out.

She takes to following him around. Not so much that he would notice, but occasionally, when he looks as though he’s got something in his head. She knows him so well, she knows when he’s planning something, and he’s planning something now.

But he knows her, too. He notices her following him.

“Don’t you trust me, Essy?” he hisses, cornering her in a secluded hallway. “Don’t you think I want what’s best for us?”

“You’ve been lying to me,” Esther tells him.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I would. Tell me.”

“No. Don’t try to stop me.”

And then he’s gone. She can’t stop him leaving.

It only reenforces her belief that he’s planning something.

She tells Daryn. Daryn’s the only person she can trust at the moment. Daryn listens to her, tells her things. Daryn would never betray her.

She doesn’t trust Micah. She thinks he’s going to hurt her, to try and kill her, perhaps, and she can’t have that. Won’t have that.

He won’t kill her. She needs to live.

It’s not a surprise when he kills Jonah, and she knows that she’s next. He tries to lie about it, to tell her that its what’s best for them. Jonah would be a bad king, he says. I’ll be better. Father told me so.

He’s lying, of course. Father has told her that, but Micah doesn’t know that. Doesn’t know that she knows he’s lying.

He will kill them all if she lets him.

But she won’t. She’ll keep herself safe, keep Daryn safe.

She’s stronger than him, she’s sure of it. Father tells her she’s strong, and she knows he’s on her side. He has to be.

Micah has to die. He’s a danger to them all, and she can’t afford to let him live.

It’s almost a shame, really. They used to be so close.

But it’s his fault. He’s been lying to her, and she knows that he’ll kill her if he gets the chance.

She lies to Daryn about it. It’s only a tiny white lie, just so she won’t worry. She’s prone to being anxious, and Esther doesn’t want her to stress that Micah might hurt her.

It’s alright, though, because it’s to keep her safe. Esther’s not a liar. She just wants Daryn to be okay, that’s all.

Because Micah has to die, and Esther has to kill him.

That’s just how it has to be.

[madrivervalleyicelandics]

Training Gait Separation: Masterpost

I have been promising (mostly on Instagram, which I will cross-post this to) to make a post like this for ages, and now I’ve finally finished it.  I really hope you all enjoy this and find it helpful.  It’s broken into four parts to make it easier to cross-post.

Let’s talk about gait separation! This is a favorite topic of mine, because most people make it so much more complicated than it needs to be - and end up creating unnecessary stress, pressure, and confusion for the horse. Like most people, I was originally taught to ride tölt by “combining the driving and restricting aids,” which for many people means driving the horse forward into the contact.  For 5-gaited horses or horses which preferred tölt, this was easy enough, but for trotty/4-gaited horses, I found that I needed a lot of pressure with my legs to keep the horse in tölt. I also found that when I began training young horses in Iceland, training tölt this way was very challenging especially for trotty youngsters, and often there was a lot of confusion and resistance from the horse initially. Tölt training became my least favorite part of training young horses, because I spent so much time getting them soft on the contact and relaxed in the basic gaits and then I felt like I had to undo all of that when the time came to start them tölting.

Fast forward a few years to learning French classical dressage and the principal of “leg without hand, hand without leg.” The idea is that, when the leg and hand are applied at the same time, the horse is forced to ignore one of the other, because these aids mean conflicting things. The horse has to do a lot of guesswork to figure out what the rider wants, in order to relieve the conflicting pressure. Because horses habituate easily to pressure, over more and more pressure is needed over time as the horse gets used to the discomfort - which explained why those 4-gaited horses from my past needed SO much leg to keep in gait. French classical dressage makes each cue very clear and separate, and riders only apply one cue at a time. I found that this immediately made my horses much lighter to seat, leg, and rein aids and changed the way I rode tölt. Meanwhile, I had also changed the way I trained gait separation, because I began using clicker training and in-hand work from the French classical tradition. Both of these tools allowed me to train gait separation early on from the ground up, without using pressure or combining driving and restricting aids in a way that was confusing or stressful to the horse.  Today, gait separation is one of my favorite parts of training young horses, and I find that I love to retrain older horses who were trained to tölt incorrectly and are “difficult” to ride in tölt.

Glæta frá Brekku in tölt, photo by Augustin Demonceaux

Glæta frá Brekku in trot, photo by Augustin Demonceaux

In the next three sections, I will talk about the different things that I think people should understand about gait separation before they attempt to train it in a young or green horse or retrain it in an older horse, and I will briefly outline (because it is impossible to go very deep on social media) the process that I use to train gait separation in young horses (or to retrain it in older horses who were trained incorrectly).

The way that I like to train horses involves positive reenforcement and correct biomechanics to help the horse find their “joy in movement”.  In order to capture this joy, we need to understand the circumstances under which the horse might willingly choose to move  in each gait.

Icelandic horses are naturally gaited.  This means that they are born with the ability to perform lateral gaits like tölt and pace.  In recent years, scientists have discovered a “pace gene” which allows horses to perform lateral gaits.  Without the presence of this gene, a horse will not be able to perform lateral gaits like tölt and pace.  Because the gene is recessive, there is the possibility that it can be accidentally bred out of Icelandic horses, so if a young horse is showing zero inclination to travel in a lateral gait, it may be worth having them tested for the gene.  But for the most part, Icelandic horses do have the genetic ability to travel in lateral gaits.

What we call tölt, and what many other gaited breeds have different names for, such as “amble”, is a four-beated lateral gait that has no suspension.  This means that at least one foot is on the ground at all times.  We like to ride the tölt because this lack of suspension (suspension meaning time spent off the ground with no feet on the ground) means that the gait is very smooth to ride.  

Pace is a lateral gait with suspension.  True racing pace also has no collection - the horse is stretched out like an arrow, traveling as fast as it can.  Compare tölt vs. racing pace to canter (three beats) vs. racing gallop (which becomes four-beated at it’s fastest, because the horse is stretched out as flat and fast as can be and there is no collection).

However, in between true racing pace and tölt, there is a whole spectrum of not-quite-perfectly-evenly-separated-four-beated gaits that we might refer to as “pacey tölt,” in which the horse is traveling in a lateral gait that may not be so smooth to ride, because it is tending more in the direction of pace.

Trot is a diagonal gait in which the legs move in diagonal pairs, and the gait does have suspension and can have collection.  Just like a tölt can be pacey, it can also be trotty, when it tends more towards the direction of trot and is not-quite-perfectly-four-beated.

Now that we’ve defined what the gaits are, we have to ask ourselves why horses have these gaits.  Are they just for humans to enjoy?  Or are there times when the horses might CHOOSE to use their lateral gaits for their own benefit?

Interestingly, there is good evidence that prehistoric horses traveled in lateral gaits sometimes, and we find lateral gaits in other primitive breeds such as tibetan and Mongolian horses - not just Icelandic horses.  This suggests that gaitedness may be a trait that predates human influence, and was one more common in equines than we thought.

The best way to learn about what motivates a horse to choose a specific gait is to watch a herd of horses in Iceland.  Watch them running, playing, and traveling over the terrain that the breed adapted to live on.  You’ll pretty quickly realize that the horses DO make use of all of their gaits - for specific scenarios.  And it totally makes sense, if you think about how each gait works.

For traveling through deep snow, mud, or up steep hills, you’ll see a lot of trot and canter - gaits that have suspension, and push the horse UP and OVER obstacles like deep footing or inclines. 

For running over icy terrain, down steep hills, or for navigating very tricky, uneven terrain, you’ll see them choose variations of a lateral gait, which allows them to keep at least one foot on the ground at all times. 

Lateral gaits are also very stabilizing for the spine and are less jarring than gaits that have clearer suspension, so horses may use them when they are injured or sore somewhere.  Gallop and racing pace might be used when escaping something REALLY scary, gallop used over normal terrain and pace might be used over slippery terrain where the horse really needed to keep his footing and couldn’t safely gallop.

Think about it - as prey animals, balance is key to horses feeling safe - it doesn’t matter how FAST you can run if you’re going to fall on your face in front of the predator!  So for equines that adapted to live in places with icy, challenging terrain, having a lateral gait makes PERFECT sense for being able to run away from danger while still being able to keep one foot on the ground at all times.

So tölt and pace are NOT just gaits for humans to enjoy - each gait is useful to the horse.

It’s worth noting that here in the US, we mostly keep horses in flat paddocks and gently rolling pastures where they might not NEED to use their lateral gaits on their own quite so much.  We see them do it as foals, when they are unsteady, but as they get older and more balanced, they tend to prefer trot and canter which let them move more efficiently over easy terrain.  By the time we want to train them, they might be quite out of practice when it comes to using their full gait spectrum.

Humans have decided that tölt and pace are separate gaits, and that only a perfectly clear, evenly separated 4-beated tölt is a TRUE tölt.  But if you were to ask an Icelandic colt, running in his herd, what gait he is doing, he probably would not be able to answer you.  The horse does not consciously decide, “now I will trot, now I will canter, now I will pace, now I will tölt.”  The horse is simply running, enjoying his body and range of motion, and running in the way that feels safest on whatever terrain he is traversing.  He will use his body in the way that makes the most sense and will keep him upright and moving efficiently at any given moment.  As the terrain slopes upwards, he will trot or canter.  As it slopes downward or gets slippery, he will tölt or pacey-tölt to keep a foot on the ground so that he can continue to run without losing his balance.

The point being - when you bring a young horse into the stable, he does not KNOW that tölt and pace are separate gaits.  He is not even really conscious that any of the gaits are separate.  We have to TEACH the horse that each gait is a separate thing, and that there is a REASON to separate these gaits for us.  I do this using clicker training, which I will write more on in my next post.

What I want to hammer home here, is that in the beginning there is no reason to ONLY accept or reward clear tölt.  In the beginning, what you are likely to get is a horse offering you something pacey.  And this is okay - in fact, it’s not just okay, it’s wonderful!

Many people make the mistake of waiting to train the lateral gaits until they have already finished training the basic gaits (walk, trot, and canter).  However, very early in the training, when the horse is perhaps a bit uncertain and trying to balance with the new equipment on his back, trying to balance in the arena or round pen for the first time, etc., the horse may try running in a pacey lateral gait or gait mixing (switching rapidly between lateral and diagonal gaits).  This is the PERFECT moment to clarify things for the horse, by putting the lateral and diagonal gaits on separate vocal cues.  This is the moment to CAPTURE that pacey/temse gait, reward it, and put it on a vocal cue even if it isn’t the gait you will ultimately want to ride, because what you are doing in that moment is teaching the horse that there is a difference between lateral and diagonal gaits.

In early training, we want the horse to relax and work primarily in the basic gaits, it’s true.  But VERY early on, you can establish the difference between lateral and diagonal gaits.  You can put trot and whatever pace/tölt/paceytölt you’re being offered on to two separate vocal cues, reward them both until the cues are established and reliable, and then stop cueing the lateral one until you need to use it again - probably after a few months of good dressage work in the basic gaits.  The horse will still know and remember the cue, because horses have such excellent memories.  And at that point, once the horse has developed the strength, balance, and understanding of the seat, leg, and rein aids well enough to perform basic lateral work, bending, and collection, it will be so EASY to shape whatever crappy lateral gait you were originally offered into a balanced, 4-beated tölt. 

The thing that I most wish people understood about tölt is that horses don’t get pacey or trotty on purpose.  Tölt, when ridden, is a gait that is extremely dependent on the horse’s balance being correct - it’s a bit like the difference between any old trot, and the gorgeous collected trot you might see in a grand prix dressage test.  You might wonder, “why doesn’t my horse trot like that?”  But if you took that same Grand Prix dressage horse and threw a very unbalanced rider on board, or put the horse in ill-fitted tack, or give the horse an unbalanced hoof trim, etc. you might see that beautiful corrected trot falter or become lower quality.   This is why, sometimes, a great trainer or rider can hop on a horse and have it tölting beautifully, but then the horse’s owner gets back on and the horse is suddenly pacey or falling into trot.  It’s not DISOBEDIENCE, it’s a balance issue.

Many young or green horses are simply not strong and balanced enough to be immediately ABLE to perform the kind of perfectly clear 4-beated tölt of the quality we like to ride, even in the field, let alone with a rider on board.  And even if they are naturally well-balanced and can perform a gorgeous clear tölt without a rider, a young horse or incorrectly trained adult horse needs to understand the aids well enough that the rider can give the horse the cues necessary to HELP them balance correctly under the added weight of a rider in order to perform a clear tölt under saddle.  

Many people train tölt by driving the horse into the contact, creating a pressure with the driving and restricting aids and relieving this pressure ONLY when the horse figures out, through trial and error, how to contort into a gait that feels comfortable to ride.  In my experience, horses trained this way tend to revert to a much less pleasant gait when ridden by less-skilled riders who are less well-timed with their releases, and may be “difficult to ride correctly.”  Horses trained in this way may also be prone to arthritis or even to injury.  That is because they may find their clear gait by compensating and using their bodies incorrectly or unnaturally, because they were motivated through the frantic desire to relieve pressure from the aids rather than correct understanding of how to balance their bodies underneath the rider.  You tend to see these horses traveling behind the vertical, braced against the bit (although perhaps FEELING light on the bit to the rider because of the tension held in their necks).  

So, how to we teach horses to tölt with relaxation and understanding, and a joy-of-movement that comes from within (as opposed to being created by the desire to relieve pressure)?

I begin with clicker training.  Once I have established the basic language of clicker training using basic targeting, I progress to using the target to prompt movement, and then I begin to put the movement on various cues.  I reward the movement, and then add in the cue, and once the cue is established, I only reward the movement when it comes after the cue.

I start with walk.  Once I have walk on a firm vocal cue, I train transitions such as walk-halt and halt-walk.  Then, I begin to jog alongside the horse, and I reward the first gait the horse offers me.  Depending on the horse, this could be a diagonal gait, or it could be a lateral gait.  Whichever it is determines which I will teach first.  If it’s trot, I reinforce it and put “trot” on a vocal cue.  If it’s a lateral gait, any lateral gait at all (even an ugly piggy pace!) I reinforce it and put that on a vocal cue (I use a kissing sound for tölt, so I use that).

Once I’ve established that fist gait, teach transitions: walk-gait, halt-gait, gait-walk, gait-halt, etc.  Once these are all established, then I am ready to teach the horse whichever gait they did not offer me initially.  If they offered trot, I will not teach them a lateral gait.  If they offered a lateral gait, I will teach them trot.  

I do this by playing with their balance, so it is dependent on some knowledge of conformation and biomechanics.  Each horse may have something slightly different that prompts them to choose to move within the gait that they did not initially offer.  Some of this will depend on the horse’s conformation, the way that the horse himself is balanced.  Hoof trim, imbalances in the teeth, and issues in the body that may be helped by chiropractic or bodywork can also be factors.  But we know enough about why the horses use each gait to make it a relatively simple puzzle - it’s just a matter of finding what works for each horse.

My current young horse, Bogi, is a fun example because he chooses each gait so evenly.  He is a well-balanced young horse who seems to choose his lateral gaits as easily as he chooses his diagonal gaits.  So for him, when I want to prompt a lateral gait, I hold the target higher, which causes him to lift his front end to look at the target - lifting his front end shifts his weight back, the way a horse would shift his weight to go down a steep hill.  When his weight is shifted in this way, he easily chooses a lateral gait just as he would going down a hill.  If he had a harder time finding a lateral gait, I might actually take him out on a hill and hold the target higher and jog down some hills with him! 

For trot, we know that horses use the gait to propel themselves over deeper footing, or up hills, etc. so a great option if you’re working in a flat arena is to use ground poles. 

However, you could also take them out into a hilly pasture and jog up some hills with them, you could try working in deep snow, an unmowed field where they have to pick their feet up over the tall grass, etc. - play around with it!

The important thing is that in the beginning, we reward ONE step at a time.  Young/green horses are weak.  The object of the game isn’t to get as many steps of tölt or trot as you can, it’s to get one step, mark it, build the understanding that this is something different from the gait they most naturally offered.  Then you can build from there.  

Once the horse knows the difference between diagonal and lateral gaits, and has two separate vocal cues for trot vs. a lateral gait (again, clarity is unimportant at this stage), I put the lateral gait cue away in my toolbox for a while and progress with the process of starting them under saddle using just the basic gaits.  I begin teaching them to longe, working them on the longeline, teaching them in-hand work, working them in-hand, backing them, and starting to work them under saddle.  I use French classical dressage to teach them the aids so that each aid has a clear meaning and is carefully separated from the other aids.  We do not apply driving and restricting aids at the same time.  

Once I back them, I transition all of the in-hand and vocal cues to under-saddle cues.  I briefly bring the lateral gait cue out of the toolbox again, to establish that “hey, these gaits are things that we do when ridden too, not just at liberty/in-hand,” and to teach them the ridden cues for these gaits. 

Bogi working in tölt

Once they are willingly performing a few steps of the lateral gait on cue under saddle (again, quality of gait is NOT important, because I do not expect the horse to have good balance underneath me yet, it is only important that the horse understands the difference between lateral and diagonal gaits on cue!), I put it away in my toolbox again.

Bogi working in trot

And then I do all of the slow, patient work of training the horse.  We build fitness, strength, balance, I teach them the more complicated aids and dressage exercises they will need to know so that I can help them balance underneath me, so that I can shift their balance beneath me and help them to become their best, strongest, most balanced and flexible selves.  Once I have them able to understand and work with me like this, THEN I can dust off that lateral gait cue again, and begin to shape the gait into a clear tölt.  Very often, they are so strong and balanced by that point that the tölt is already clear, but if not, all I need to do is help the horse balance so that they can move forward in clear beat.

Below is a short video of clips showing a bit of this process with my young horse, Bogi:

This process also works great for retraining horses that were incorrectly trained to tölt.  I’ve had some awesome success retraining REALLY trotty older horses, that had to be held and squeezed into the gait for years.  In some ways, you can move faster with older horses, because they are already stronger than a youngster would be, and more developed so there is less risk of progressing too quickly and hurting them.  The initial work, however, can take a bit longer because they may be less trusting of the initial introduction to R+, especially if they have been trained unkindly in the past.  I also find that with older horses, if their cues for tölt have been poisoned by stressful training, I sometimes have to introduce completely new cues for them so that they can truly start fresh.  But I have yet to find a horse that training this way does not work for! 

Happy tölting!

[superkaralovesfanfiction]

Uzrhegehd: Lust

UZRHEGEHD- LUST FOR SUPERCATSLAM 7 Basically sex sex sex. That's all this is. I chose lust as my fave sin out of the seven, naturally...🤦🏼‍♀️ ''Kara, this cannot happen again, you do realize that.'' Cat remembered that sentence, saying it with such vehemence, yet breathy and broken, as Supergirl stood pinned between Cat's strong hands and the elevator wall behind her, and remembered seeing Supergirl's wide blue eyes, seeing her nod in understanding, seemingly realizing the importance of that acceptance, and then walk away when Cat released her as soon as the main elevator opened on the bottom floor. Cat remembered the pain in her heart. Because she had initiated that kiss. And all that touching and even the smouldering orgasm from the heroine's plaint, wanting body a mere single moment later when the girl had haphazardly stopped the elevator in between floors after the kiss hadn't stopped, and damn, Cat hadn't been able to stop herself. And Supergirl had been... Cat bit her lip at the memory, Kara coming apart in her arms, moaning as her body bucked underneath Cat's eager fingertips. Cat had grinned then, kissing her just underneath the edge of her cape, because nobody could resist Supergirl in that suit, and Cat was no exception. And because Kara Sunny Danvers having an orgasm was possibly the prettiest sight in the world. Okay, maybe Supergirl was a little more exciting, because of the damn suit, but the face... Kara was... it was... Cat took a sip of her bourbon, strong and bitter, and wished the burn could wash away the feelings she had for this heroine. The pure untamed lust. Cat didn't know whether it was the suit, the powers, the pure desire she had for Kara herself as an assistant and so damn sunny all the time, or just the beauty, but damn, she couldn't get rid of it. Cat had pushed her, held her, even rocked her through that orgasm, knowing by Kara's undeniably strong reaction with the crushing of the railing and the wall inside the elevator, that it had been Kara's first real orgasm. Cat had wanted her so much then, wanting nothing more than to let Kara's wandering hands give her the same release... And then, gone. Cat had promised herself no more. After that, she had assured herself of it. Repeatedly. She wouldn't fall that way again. Not for her assistant. Cat wanted her just the same, more, even. But she would not do that again. Cat was lucky that nobody had caught them then, and wondered what scandal could have happened if they had been caught, or if they got caught again. Which again reenforced Cat's adamant promise to not do this again with Kara. So the orgasm had been amazing, and so Cat wanted to see that face again and wake up to it daily and go to sleep staring at it, but she would not. For both of them, Cat would not make that mistake again. Even if Kara was Supergirl, and Supergirl had the prettiest smile in the universe. And Cat knew. Of course Cat knew. Kara was Supergirl. Which made all of this so much worse, and better, at the same time. It was so much worse, because it meant the girl she lusted after daily, nightly, in all her dreams, was her colleague. Her assistant. Sunny Danvers. The one and only. Cat groaned at the vision in her mind, of stunning Kara in her office, asking over files and notes, tapping at her iPad, and the epic realization that even once she'd promised she wouldn't do this again, to herself more than anyone else, and pushed Kara away more than ever before, it was Supergirl that was like a drug Cat couldn't resist and had Cat allowing her to come back and play with her again. Quite literally. Again and again, Cat had kept promising herself to keep the heroine away, to keep Kara at bay, only to break so easily when Kara came back, and worked her alien magic again, and the moaning and whimpering and whispered words, both human and alien, and the pure fire. And it burned like the sweetest sin. Cat promised herself she wouldn't. Not again. And then Kara came to her, and Cat could only say yes. The first night had shocked Cat. She hadn't expected Kara, after she'd done that to her. Gotten her off in that elevator, then asked her to leave. For the most part, Cat had expected Kara to quit, or sue her, or say Cat had harassed her. And Cat wouldn't have been able to say no. For days, nothing. Kara had come to work as usual, but hadn't said much, and Cat hadn't either, but then Kara had shown up on her balcony, or Supergirl had. And she'd confessed her love to Cat. Cat had assumed that Kara must know that Cat knew, and when she'd asked why now, expecting Kara to reveal everything, Kara had simply said that she'd recently come to terms with being herself as Supergirl, and herself involved Cat. It had been at 2 am of all things, Kara had come into her bedroom through the balcony, and Cat had to fight everything she had to keep from screaming in pleasure, because Kara really knew what to do with her mouth and her powers, and Carter was asleep two doors down. And she had to try really hard to not shout Kara's name, because Kara thought Cat didn't know. And that was the strangest part of all of this. Maybe that night had been Kara's lust more than Cat's, but Cat hadn't been able to sleep at all anyways, dreams of Kara keeping her awake, so Cat honestly didn't have the power to say no. And knowing Kara felt the same, it made it all so much stronger, burning them both, and Cat had found herself wishing Kara back even while she fought herself to stay away from the girl. Then it had been a week later, Cat had given in again, in her own office of all things, in her desk chair, her throne, and fuck, Cat had screamed then. Her fault, she'd asked Supergirl for an exclusive interview. Well, it had certainly been exclusive. Completely and utterly so. The next 4 times had been at various places, the town car in the parking lot after Supergirl had come to her party, the beach one night when Kara was on patrol around the city and flying Super close to Cat's penthouse, in the meeting room before a meeting that Supergirl had agreed to join with the CatCo board members and Cat, and, then, surprising for Cat, her dining room table when Cat was home alone and drowning herself in another glass of bourbon and her sorrows and fears of this elicit tryst they were having. At this point Cat had long forgotten who's lust was stronger, but still kept promising, or was it begging at this point?, to stop this, knowing she'd never be able to as long as Kara kept coming, literally and figuratively. Because Kara was still her assistant, and Kara still believed Cat didn't know. So Kara had found a solution to that secret in the form of a blindfold, and fuck, Cat couldn't deny that she'd always had a thing for superheroes and maybe it was a kink, but Supergirl's cape was really very beautiful, and so was the feeling of having someone with such godly powers dominating you. For Cat that might seem odd, and it was even odd to her sometimes, but it was truthful, the kink she had. Cat, the queen, liked to be dominated. That, was odd, and true. And that was why Cat was here tonight, by her penthouse balcony in her lounge chair, trying to let the cold evening wind break this heated frenzy she was in. Because Supergirl was here again. A problem in the local street that had required Supergirl's attention, had her coming up here after at seeing Cat watching from the balcony. And it had taken less than 2 minutes of talk about the crash below and their feelings for words to vanish and moans to replace it when Cat could physically not keep her hands to herself and more or less pulled Kara onto said lounger by her cape, publicity scandals be damned for anyone who might be watching. And now Kara was here, placing that same lace blindfold over her eyes while Cat seriously wondered if resisting this hero was humanly possible. She shouldn't have her. At all. This girl, this amazing beautiful heroine was her assistant at CatCo. And Cat shouldn't have this chance. And Kara didn't know that Cat knew. Kara was still keeping up this facade, most of which had led to the current blindfold made out of the lace tie of Cat's light robe that Kara had found the first time she'd been here in the middle of the night to fuck Cat senseless, and Cat whimpered when she felt Kara lightly tie it and run her fingers through blonde hair, then kiss her head. Cat sighed and placed her glass on the floor below the lounger safely before she crushed the crystal from sheer lust alone, and sighed when she felt the comforter beneath her shift and bend under Kara's weight, and even more so when she felt Kara's fingers thread again into her hair and hold on to the knot of the makeshift blindfold and felt Kara lean in to kiss her, warm breath coasting over her chin just before Kara's perfect lips fell over her own. Cat arched into the the hero's body, back coming off the lounger, her mantra of ''don't give in, don't give in, don't give in'' going foggy in her mind at the feel of Kara's lips on hers, Kara's free hand coming up to her waist to hold her down, and then felt her hand slide up until it was at her throat, ever so gentle but powerful in the same second. Cat felt her delicate fingers tighten barely, spread out over her collarbones and neck, and Cat swallowed deeply as her mind went blank under Supergirl's spell, under her truly alien touch, and hell, Cat had never been so close from a simple touch, still fully clothed in her work suit, and suddenly Cat was very glad that she'd decided to opt to go without a bra or shirt underneath her blazer. She'd done it to tease, Cat liked teasing people, and now, well, Cat regretted all of this, and none of it at the same time. This shouldn't be happening, but just like last time in that elevator, and every subsequent time in every place, Cat knew she was incapable of refusing Kara anything. That included this, and when Kara sat back and hooked her hand under Cat's thigh and hiked Cat's leg up over her own hip, settling her own warm self, wet panties and all, right against Cat's, Cat outright moaned and dropped her head back, feeling Kara's booted leg slip up against her thigh, against her bare leg where Kara had pushed her pencil skirt up to her waist. Cat fisted at the sheets with one hand and a stray pillow with the other, trying to think about what the hell she would do when this was over, how she would deal with it once Kara got either tired and sleepy from this or had to leave for another emergency, and vaguely, somewhere in the back of her lust addled brain, what she had to look like like this, blindfolded on her balcony lounger with a Supergirl in her lap, holding you down with wickedly strong fingertips while she... oh god. Kara started rocking, up against Cat, and Cat let out a moan at the feeling, and laughed when Kara moaned as well, a dark beautiful sound that Cat couldn't pin to the sunny Danvers she knew. Now Supergirl though... oh yes that sounded more like it... She could hear Kara's laugh, in between her own, and it pushed her so much closer, especially when Cat felt Kara's hand slide down on her leg, holding her ankle higher to her shoulder, cradling her leg, and Cat bit her lip at the feel of Kara's suit, the cape, brushing her leg. Kara had done that in the town car too, and on her dining room table, and Cat remembered it well enough to know this would be so... Cat bit her lip and crushed her eyes closed underneath the lace, feeling the fire build. When Kara moaned again, strangled and deep his time, and Cat felt her fingers tighten her hold, Cat reached up and fought with the lace over her eyes. Pulling it away to see. Kara come undone. Cat couldn't resist, Kara was stunning in that second. Cat got the scrap of material off just in time to see Kara whimper and arch her back, and moan loudly, her face adorably beautiful as she felt that same lust race through her like gasoline poured onto a raging fire. Cat moaned at the sight of her, blonde hair all over, her bright S coat of arms on her chest blaring brightly, and that was all Cat needed. --- When Cat opened her eyes, tears down her face at how strongly she had crushed her eyes closed at that release, she met bright blue eyes that stared at her sleepily, long lashes fluttering over pale cheeks when she blinked. Cat stared, hypnotized for a moment by the wild blue colour, the eyes she was used to seeing in her office daily. Cat stared openly, unsure of what to say, her heart still pounding loudly in her ears, and brought a hand into Kara's messy hair, watching as Kara leaned into her touch, closing her eyes at the feeling. Cat smiled at her and grinned when Kara crawled higher over her and kissed her on her lips, smiling as well, and Cat sighed tiredly. ''I can't anymore, Kara.'' Cat said, staring at Kara's widening eyes at hearing her name, but continued. ''I know it's you, it makes it even better, and I can't fucking stay away from you. I love you, I need you, you're my hero and no one else's. No more games.'' ''No more games, you're right, Cat. And for the record, I don't want to be anyone else's hero. Just yours. I love you.''