Horse

Please don't repost my works anywhere.

Tags: horse whinnies - chatting horseshit - shit posting horse thoughts - meta analysis/close readings horse drinking wine - my writing

These are my rushed thoughts after playing, spoilers below for Vinesurge Instinct:

Why is he always in a net like contraption.

Caleb and MC are warping space and time to be together... time dilation?

This secret was a seed buried in his heart. And over the years, it grew into winding vines that formed an invisible net. It bound him and made him want to bind her just as tightly.

THE EYEBROW PIERCING??? IT'S NEVER BEEN MORE SERIOUS...

CW: sibling incest

Very rushed thoughts but Caleb reading Sense and Sensibility makes so much sense to me, in fact, him reading Jane Austen in general is so wonderful to see. It suits him so well! This is an author who writes in great detail about love in societies and their traditions, which Caleb takes great care to know.

Yet, his two other books indulge in his dream to "rise above the clouds". While he technically shows interest in society his main goal is to be above it, to either gain power to be with his sister or to isolate himself from people to live in fantasy. I feel a lot of incestuous relationships in fiction rely heavily on the warping of reality, to morph it into something less taxing on the relationship so they can convince themselves what they're doing is in the name of love rather than codependency.

It reminds me a lot about the famous scene with Daniel Plainview and his supposed brother in There Will Be Blood, "I want to make enough money that I can get away from everyone..." He is relieved in this moment, hopeful that he found someone of his blood to share his afflictions with (how wrong he is!). But it reminds me a lot of Calebmc. Their inability to care about the people around them, this sense they are somehow born above the world which surrounds them.

It really makes me sad to see that you think your prose is 'insufferable', because it's the farthest thing from that! Not even in the same ballpark! It's vibrant and it's unique, I can start reading your fics without seeing the author and immediately know that they were written by you, and that's a good thing! I read your other Caleb fics too, and I'll have to read them again to comment on them- but I can say that I really love the way you write Caleb and portray his relationship with MC. It's so true to him! It's clear that you put a lot of thought into your writing, and that you actually spend time in his head to get him right. He's really complex, so I know that's difficult to do!

So this is kind of a mess, but I just wanted to let you know that I'm a loyal and eager reader! I just read your fics on ao3 because I want to bookmark them, so I don't typically comment here!

But all of that is to say- thanks for writing and working so hard on your fics, I truly appreciate it! 💜

Oh, you can't imagine how much this has lifted my spirits, thank you so much for this!! I'm overjoyed that my fics are able to immerse you, I hope you got to eat dinner haha. I'm so grateful to have you as a reader, I'm always so worried that I'm kind of just working to throw things into the endless void. And while I want to say I write for myself, I feel like that'd be a little dishonest. It's nice to hear from people from time to time!

Admittedly, the first chapter of Copper Canyons took me 4 months to write and edit which, in retrospect, is not a long time in comparison to other fics that may span for years. I feel like my writing has certainly improved and the best of myself is within Copper Canyons and actually in a little bit of A Still Life With Oranges.

I write what I want to read, but I do feel a bit guilty sometimes. Weirdly, I feel like if nobody enjoys what I'm putting out—I'm somehow inconveniencing readers? Logically this makes zero sense, but I can't shake the feeling and it takes me about an hour to convince myself to post...

All this to say, you've really reassured me. I'm aware that maybe there are people who do enjoy my stuff but just prefer to lurk, and I'm totally ok with that! I, myself, prefer to do that majority of the time. I guess I've just convinced myself that no one wants to read my fics given that ao3 doesn't have an algorithm and my works tend to preform pretty poorly.

But what I want is for my stuff to find its audience, and it seems it has! So, with newfound courage, I will tackle chapter 2 with all my peculiarities that make my writing unique. I hope to continue improving and I hope that I don't disappoint. I'm aware that this is all fanfiction so it's all for fun, but I really love writing as a craft and have a great respect for it. I want to do it justice and I want to do the characters justice, and so I've just put a lot of effort into giving them life. I don't know if I've succeeded according to my standards, but I'll continue to try my best!

Again, I just really appreciate this. More than you can ever know.

As thanks I'll tell you some of the works that have inspired me to write Copper Canyons! Butcher's Crossing by John Edward Williams, There Will Be Blood directed by Paul Thomas Anderson, and I'm currently reading All The Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy as well as "Brokeback Mountain" by Annie Proulx (I also plan on watching the movie at some point...)

You'll notice that maybe some of these aren't your traditional Western—I tend to gravitate towards things that might be more posthumanist in nature. If you can describe it as that. Although, Butcher's Crossing is really a transcendentalist novel with heavy reference to Ralph Waldo Emerson's "transparent eyeball".

It's slightly discouraging that my longer fics get the least amount of traction when I get the most enjoyment writing them as opposed to my shorter ones... Also, I don't feel like writing straight up smut ever. I have to get invested in the feeling of it? It's almost like I have to convince myself as to why they're being intimate. Which... you don't really need in fanfiction given that they already have a well-established dynamic in the source material...

The fact they coexisted for so long is almost bewildering:

I never thought the three of us would split up. Looking back now, the fact that he walked this far with us is the real surprise.

In Crease, Gideon reflects on his (and the DAA group by extension) relationship to Caleb. He spoke at length with Caleb about their future, their likely success in becoming flight instructors at the DAA and how their days may look like still being a tight-knit group. Obviously, that didn't happen.

Chapter 1 of my Western AU! Gideon x reader┃Caleb x reader┃Caleb x Gideon x reader CW: pseudo-incest, sibling incest, explicit sexual content (more tags on AO3)

Word count - 18.4k Your brother leaves you behind to become a cowboy, and as Gideon tries to piece you back together, you decide to go out into the great desert to hunt down the man who betrayed you. But first, you must remain in college with Gideon to prepare for the wild to come.

For @chocoramii!! Happy birthday :)

⸻

Your brother, bless his heart, left you to become a cowboy. Now, you're a good woman and you don't exactly know what being a cowboy truly entails, but neither does your brother. You both live a decent life, raised in church together, orphans from a house fire. You asked your brother once what exactly had happened to cause the fire, but all he had for an answer was a shaken look and lips that could not bring themselves to move. You decided then to never ask him of anything that he may not want to tell, this unfortunately meant you had no idea he would run off to become a rootin'-tootin' cowboy. A life of crime! Oh, and what would Mother say?

"That boy was always troubled," she said as she shook her head.

You follow in her steed and shake your head in the same ashamed manner. Lifting the cup of hot bitter coffee to your mouth, wincing a bit since it was from a freshly brewed pot. The grains scratch your tongue as you force yourself to swallow. "Yes, I believe so." You downplay your own disappointment and pretend to agree. The two of you had been admitted to a nice school, Mother agreed to pay for a room that you would both share, and he had thrown it all away. He had forced you to study for years for this chance, locked himself shut in the closet to read by candlelight memorizing the shape of machines.

I want to be an inventor. He made you aware of his dream. One night you find him, your arms spread wide pushing the wooden closet doors open after borrowing some garden shears to cut the chains he tied onto the handles.

You imprison yourself for such a simple dream? And you knew instantly by the twitch of his right eye and deepening frown, you had said the wrong thing.

You would apologize if it were not for the fact you were right, as you always are. Yet, crude sister you are, for not believing in your brother's dreams. It's not that you doubt him, no, quite the opposite. Rather, you are the spoiled one, simply wanting time with him all for yourself. You wanted to pester him in the dim light and ask him questions until you found one he could not answer—non-personal questions. For when it came to matters of the soul and the geometry of his heart, he always made himself obscure. A maze to journey through and you, as the little sister, are thoroughly impatient. Fire in your bosom, burning with this heat to run.

But you are a woman before you are a sister, not to him, but to the world. So, you won't run wild—not like him. You follow in the footsteps of Mother, playing the perfect widow, dabbing your eyes with a handkerchief as she is. Pretending you couldn't fathom why one would run away from a perfectly set life. Discovery is a matter for men unlike your brother who is sensitive and kind; he who would dab your eyes, just like you're doing now, and harness this melodic voice that'd move you to stay still and silent.

No need to cry, I'm here, I'm here. Like a mother caressing her child, loving words stitched together, naturally coming to her in motherhood. How funny it is that this mother you imagine is, in fact, your dear brother who had just abandoned you! Wicked bastard! These tears are not false, but they are not somber things, they are filled with a palpable rage. You too wanted to run, but instead of inviting you with him, he had went off on his own. Stolen white stallion, "Lookfar!" they called out for the horse. Alas, he was gone with your brother who showed no signs of flying off on his own until now. Always, he and you—attached at the hip—your voices intertwined and there was never a time where your laughter would not follow his.