Sometimes I think it's ridiculous Percy didn't realize he could talk to horses or fish until he got to camp. But then I think little baby Percy running into a police horse and it starts neighing at him and he's like bewildered and confused and later he tells Sally about it and she just laughs that horses don't alk (while masking her internal panic) and Percy must've imagined that.
Same thing happens at the aquarium. The little fishes inside rumbling at his presence, all the sea creatures following him around their tanks, and he just thinks it's because he's cool, and they're talking and he's mumbling responses back and peeople are staring and the teacher yanks him away and asks him what the hell he's doing and he's just blinking with big green eyes, confused and annoyed because, um, he was having a conversation, excuse me.
Anyway, little seven year old Percy curled up in his bed, thinking he's going insane because he keeps talking to animals and that's not normal, and he just ends up repressing that power so forcefully it doesn't emerge again until five years later when he's sitting in the stables, grooming one of the pegasus and he's like, haha, didn't my dad make horses, and that thought blinks out the cage he's been pressing that power into and panics when the pegasus neighs out a "Yeah he did"
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hii pidge, i saw u mentioned race + horse imagery in your last post and i def agree bc horses are v loyal n ofc there is the thing of (metaphorically and also literally) carrying people's loads, and bolting when faced w danger so I would love to know if u have any more thoughts about it? :))
tbh i don't have many artsy references for why race is horse-coded, it just makes the most sense to me. mostly because i think the modern view of horses is kind of a joke? like we've all seen the memes about how fucked up horses bodies are, we've all seen the ones about how 'oh if horses run too fast their lungs bleed' or 'if they eat too much their hooves fall off' and 'humans thought they had it bad but then they looked at horses and said 'that guy's got it worse'.' i think that applies to race all too well, really, ESPECIALLY now that we've seen what some people reduce his character to be. the funny guy. the bitchy twink who's only there to be a punchline. but he's more than that - or maybe he could've been if he was born a little earlier, back when horses had meaning and sprang fully formed out of seafoam and brought the greeks to troy, but now they just run. they run their laps, and a bunch of drunks scream at them for not being fast enough, for not knowing the terrain well enough, as if that's something they can control. because race can't control it, but he's still trying his damnedest to run the course as well as he can. he's always doing as much as he can as fast as he can - he's the second, for god's sake, he has to. but as much as he tries to keep it under control, to follow the bends and jump every hurdle, there's always going to be a point where he stumbles. where his ankle twists or his hoof splits too far to fix. if he's lucky, he'll retire - but most likely, he'll be led out by the nose towards a carrot and a shotgun, and then maybe his bones can be melted down into something useful. that's all he tries to be - useful. a hard worker, a fast runner. but up until he breaks, he's just going to be a joke.
that said, if you do want a good poem about horses, maybe check out 'at grass' by philip larkin. it's not necessarily race-coded but there were a few lines that made me think of what his life might be like after he stopped being a newsie; standing anonymous, his racing name gone, his past victories plaguing his ears like flies.
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“Crazy Horse dreamed and went into the world where there is nothing but the spirits of all things. That is the real world that is behind this one, and everything we see here is something like a shadow from that one.”
~ Black Elk
[Thanks Ian Sanders]
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“And while I stood there I saw more than I can tell and I understood more than I saw; for I was seeing in a sacred manner the shapes of all things in the spirit, and the shape of all shapes as they must live together like one being.”
― John G. Neihardt, Black Elk Speaks: The Complete Edition
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“Crazy Horse was dead. He was brave and good and wise. He never wanted anything but to save his people, and he fought the Wasichus only when they came to kill us in our own country. He was only thirty years old. They could not kill him in battle. They had to lie to him and kill him that way.
I cried all night, and so did my father.”
― Black Elk, Black Elk Speaks: Being the Life Story of a Holy Man of the Oglala Sioux
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I already brought this up, but for quicker reference:
Order of Attack: Mahiru nightmare sequence about Kotoko's attacks. Gotta round out the guilty trio.
Feel free to not prioritize this. :D
LISTEN, I CAN'T BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE FOR THE ANGST THAT YOU REQUEST (<- made myself sad over Mappi and worries I may be in trouble for this one). Obligatory "I don't hate Kotoko and think she's very complex but from these character's pov I had to make her solely scary I'm sorry." And of course I was prioritizing this 👀👀👀 I really loved your nightmare sequences, I tried to make one that completed the set but was still unique!! Thank you for the request >:3
TW for referencing her bf's suicide, and descriptions of the attack injuries
“Aw, come on, you can tell me~” Yuno turned her attention away from where she’d been helping Mahiru with dinner. “Both Fuuta and Amane have had nightmares about her. Hell, I’ve had a nightmare or two about her. I won’t think you’re a mean person for admitting it.”
“I’m not lying,” Mahiru insisted. Her lips rounded into a little pout.
Yuno studied her expression. The girl had a way of really looking at someone when she wanted to. Sometimes it was a wonderful feeling – her gaze could be full of understanding, warmth. You were seen. You were heard. She saw you for all that you were.
But in times like these, Mahiru found herself shifting under the pressure of it. Yuno was truly seeing her. She could see how Mahiru’s smile was frozen in its forced shape these past few weeks. She could see the way she flinched at loud noises, or how all the blood drained from her face when Kotoko’s voice echoed from the room next door. In waking, there was no doubt Mahiru was afraid of her. In sleep, though…
Yuno took her hands in both of hers.
“Then… what do you dream about?”
—
Mahiru was in the woods. She was running, her feet bare, her breath hitching.
At first, she thought she was fleeing something. Danger and death loomed around her. The trees closed in. The canopy plunged her into darkness. The branches reached out to tear at her flowered dress, or snag on her hair. The trees pressed close to suffocate her. She grabbed at her throat.
At some point, it became clear she was running towards something. A figure came into her view, just ahead. Though he didn’t appear to be running, she couldn’t catch up to him. She had to. He was in danger. She had to get to him. She had to stop him.
He entered a clearing up ahead. Mahiru could just barely see into it. She tried to scream out, begging him to stop, but no words came out of her wheezing mouth. She could stop everything, she could stop all of this, if only –
She burst through the clearing. The figure, now a young woman, stood in the center. She faced away.
Mahiru tried again to tell Kotoko to stop, but it didn’t matter whether or not she could speak, now; it was too late.
On the ground below, between tree roots and scattered leaves, lay two small bodies.
Mahiru’s hands flew to cover her mouth. Her legs grew weak with horror. There was blood everywhere, and bones bent at wrong angles. Fuuta’s limbs were twisted and limp. Amane had curled herself to cover her face, blood streaming from between her fingers.
Kotoko, too, had red-stained hands. She surveyed her work with pride.
“What… have you done…?”
Slowly, Kotoko turned. Mahiru wanted to turn around and run before those bloodthirsty eyes could land on her. Her legs stayed frozen in place even as her heart raced in her chest.
Kotoko met her gaze. Then, she gave a gentle smile.
“Thank you.”
Mahiru stumbled back a few steps.
“You let this happen.”
“No…”
“You did. You could have stopped this, but you didn’t. Thank you.”
“I-I didn’t –! This isn’t – ! I thought –”
“You knew this was going to happen.” She spoke a familiar name, and Mahiru shook her head violently. “You knew what he was planning. You had plenty of chances to stop him. You didn't. You knew what I was planning. You know how to calm people down, how to bring groups together. But you didn’t speak to me once about it. You wanted this to happen.”
“I didn’t!” She said it frantically, unsure if she was trying to convince Kotoko, the two beaten prisoners, herself, or someone else. “I didn’t.” The statement was true, but it didn’t change anything that Kotoko had said.
The forest closed in. Kotoko reached a hand out, beckoning to her.
“We make a good team, don’t we?”
“No…”
Mahiru was struck with the thought that she didn’t want to take hold of such a disgusting hand, only to glance down at her own. They were just as slick with blood. She let out a shriek.
It was Amane’s. It was Fuuta’s. It was his.
Mahiru’s legs finally gave out on her. When she looked up, Kotoko was still smiling.
“So… who will be next?”
—
Mahiru slipped away from Yuno’s grasp.
“Oh, don’t you worry about little old me!” She turned back to their work. She brushed her hands off on her apron, giving them an extra swipe for good measure. “I promise, Kotoko isn’t the villain in my dreams.”
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Went on a trail ride with another girl I haven’t ridden with in a while l and said “hey let’s try this trail!” and then I nearly got us stuck in a fucking swamp
I literally said “haha, come on Bertie (my horse) it’s not like it’s quicksand” and then boom! it kind of WAS though and my pony is fat but she is small, so she got stuck up to her knees a few times but oh my god, poor Buster is a normal sized thick ol halter hog quarter horse boy and he almost went down. he sunk in on the left side up to his stifle. that’s like his hip man that’s like. Almost the butt. that was high-as-a-horse’s-hips mud. That was horse-thigh-gap-height mud. Oh my god.
This obviously scared the horse so then he scrambled out as best he could and he took his mom into a bank full of many sharp little trees and she almost came off and then had to get down and back him back into the mud to get him out and around the trees again
Was my horse as affected? No. Was I hit so hard in the face by tree branches that I bit my lip? No, but her horse reenacted the neverending fucking story for a minute there and she got pistol whipped by branches and I felt so bad 😭 in fairness, she never objected to exploring. not in fairness, it was absolutely my dumbass idea
This is why no one wants to ride with us, even when I try to have a chill walk-only lazy little trail ride I still manage to get us into some kind of chaos, because my riding style can only be described as Quaintly Unhinged™️
As pet tax, here’s my pony and her stupid stray dog she adopted, brave survivors of the sticky icky swamp
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