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aparticularbandit · 5 years

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so the current poll results tend to suggest the following:

y’all want the roisa soulmate fic. y’all really want the roisa soulmate fic. i haven’t started writing this one yet, and i don’t have the clearest vision of everything involved. in point of fact, one of the ideas i was planning on using here i think works better for a one-shot but i have another soulmate trope added in instead. there’s, like, three different soulmate trope prompts at play here. still kind of working on unpacking some of the hard rules i want to use for those tropes, but this is definitely a doable thing, given that i have that full month of july to start on this. you have been heard loud and clear.

y’all want the roisa university fic. this is easier. i already have a couple of chapters roughed out and started on the third, so i already have that backlog started. this one doesn’t require as much world-building thought as the soulmate fic, so it’ll be easier to make a bigger backlog, like i had with carla and like i had with luisa and the fox. given that i like alternating between projects (particularly between rougher and lighter projects), this is a good fic to alternate with the soulmate fic. again, you have been heard loud and clear.

after those two, which are clearly ahead, it looks like there are two different tiers of things y’all would like, and i’m mostly just going to focus on that first tier (the second tier feels like hm, this would be nice, but want the other things more). so, that top tier:

y’all want iylhybhn updated twice a month. right now, given the arc we’re in, this is likely doable. i have a fairly clear direction on the next...ten? eleven? chapters? roughly? maybe a little more? so doing more than one chapter a month is doable. i don’t plan on necessarily having a backlog on these, though, because right now i’m approximating 7k a week (sometimes more), and that’s roughly the length of an iylhybhn chapter (i think chapter ten was a little over 8k after the second write). so basically, i want a backlog of other things so that i can write these more regularly. you have been heard loud and clear.

put jane: the real story on the monday update schedule. given the above two regarding the soulmate fic and the university fic, this may not happen. i don’t want to try and push for a two times a week update schedule right now (although that has been my tendency, i like it not being...like, it’s an eventual goal, maybe, but i feel like that’s a bit of a stretch). however, i do see that y’all want more regular updates on this, so maybe i can do these in-between writing chapters of iylhybhn. these are lighter (mostly but not always) and really cathartic in terms of writing it, so they’re good in-between those. so might be updated once or twice a month, but likely not on the monday schedule.

put more luisa and the fox content on the monday update schedule. given the above two regarding the soulmate fic and the university fic, this probably shouldn’t happen but is silightly more likely than j:trs. this fic is basically my favorite. i already have some backlog on extra content once the fic is finished, and i already have an idea for furthering content. because there is a stronger plan here in terms of what comes next, it’s easier for me to do this than j:trs, and since they’re on the same tier, i lean towards this one. so, likely, but not necessarily.

update the pokemon fic more regularly. considering i haven’t updated either of these since, like, november? december? i think november, this is doable. ish. i don’t have a clear plot on luisa’s fic, but i do have a clear plot on clara’s fic. so it’s possible i’ll update that second part more than the first. this is on the backburner a bit, but i can try to, you know, not wait half a year in-between updates. >< you have been heard loud and clear.

start posting everything’s coming up rose’s. i have a backlog on this, but it’s really rough and needs some editing. i think i made it to chapter...i was in chapter three? these chapters tend to be long - of the 17k i think i had, that covered...two full chapters, two partial chapters, a flashback, and...something else. so, like, these chapters are long the way iylhybhn’s chapters are long. may not backlog on these the way i want to backlog with my writing in july, but might. probably won’t start posting these until after august - mostly i want to give a bit of a breather between this and the hallmark fic because they’re companion pieces and deal with similar themes - or, really, this is the fuller extrapolation of a lot of ideas i had when brainstorming those fics.

so, basically, what i’m thinking in terms of the monday schedule after july is:

update iylhybhn.

update the roisa university fic.

update iylhybhn.

update luisa and the fox content.

and then just alternate that way - primarily because university fic and luisa and the fox content are easier to build a backlog of stuff that’s just done and can go up during the month without me worrying about doing a bunch of writing and rushing each week. outside of that, in july, i want to:

start writing the roisa soulmate fic.

these may or may not be posted as chapters are available after july

idk how big of a backlog i’ll be able to do here, but i can do more brainstorming and writing during july for this

right now maybe tentatively look at a once a month schedule after july?

keep writing the roisa hp au.

i know this wasn’t on the poll, but it was still the highest voted from the last polls, so it’s still high up on the things people want tier

i still want to have an entire book of backlog before posting. kind of like what i’m doing with the hallmark special. i found that this was really helpful in terms of setting things up well for luisa and the fox, and i like having special fic projects that are done this way.

again, i plan on this being a weekly thursday update schedule per book

once the first book has been through two drafts with me and maybe goes to betas - so basically when it’s in its third (or fourth) draft, i want to start posting it.

i want this to be the process for each book, so there may be a long wait between each book.

have a bigger backlog of the roisa university fic.

in keeping with the potential new monday update schedule.

have a bigger backlog of luisa and the fox content.

again, in keeping with the potential new monday update schedule.

beyond that, i want to:

keep writing jane: the real story.

plan on a once or twice a month update but, like, tend towards still once a month.

because this is a lot of writing, y’all, and at this point, even looking at everything, it’s intimidating and i already feel spread thin.

keep writing everything’s coming up rose’s.

partly for backlog, partly i just really like this fic a lot.

potentially also a once a month update after august??

go back to writing the pokemon fic(s).

potentially update every other month.

keep writing heart in motion.

despite being on the lower tier on the polls, this fic has a lot of traffic. not everyone who reads my stuff on ao3 gets here for polls, and from stats, this is wanted.

potentially also update every other month - i have a harder time with this fic in terms of getting into everyone’s voices across all of the characters.

feel free to pursue other projects at will.

this includes aftershocks and the rosalint fic and the super epic crossover and potentially other pairs (dottie/lint, for instance, would be really cool)

i still want to write an epic rose/dottie/whitney/lint/emma fic because can you imagine the five of them working together it would be great.

and this last one, in particular, is important because honestly, looking at all of this feels really intimidating and it looks like a lot and i know me and jumping between projects and i know that sometimes what i want to do in terms of what i know y’all want is not always what i end up doing because there are other ideas that really interest me. and i don’t want to give up that freedom to adhere to all of this. but it’s also nice to have a general plan of where to direct when i don’t feel overwhelming muse for one particular project or another. anyway. here! a thing. ^^ also the poll is still open, so if y’all want to vote, feel free, and i’ll potentially change these sorts of ideas accordingly.

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years

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Some Weeks Are Better Than Others Pt. 2

(Mind your Business)

M’Baku x Reader

*Part 1* *Part 3*

Plot: You and M’Baku have to be apart for a business trip you are taking. Leaving him sucks for you both, but career is important and he supports. But the trip is a lot more than a test of your value to your job, but to your relationship as well.

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Computer Love, interruption, disrespect.

*Previously*

You hadn’t texted M’Baku yet and it was a little later than you anticipated getting back. That fat ass would make for a great comfort to you but a FaceTime will have to do. You step out, toweling down and wrapping a robe around you. You sit on the bed, grabbing your phone up, and going to his name. It rings, and rings, which is odd because you thought he would be nipping at the bit to get in touch with you by now. You get a text then, ‘Hang on. I’ll call you right back’

You lay back on your pillow in annoyance, wondering what the hell he is doing. With the day you had, you still found time to call him, but here he is delaying things when you could be asleep.

Your phone rings and you pick it up, revealing his face smiling widely, sitting on the edge of you guys’ bed,

“Hello, my lady love! How are you? You look well, did you just shower?” He can’t hide his excitement which makes you feel rejuvenated with energy.

“I did just get out of the shower. I feel best now than I did all day.” You say letting out the deepest breath you’ve taken all day.

He furrows his brow, frowning, “I’m sorry (Y/N). Was it anything serious? There’s no shame if you have to come home early, you shouldn’t break yourself for this.” He says with paternal concern.

You shake your head, “No it was just a long day dealing with people, but I made it somehow. I don’t want to talk about it right now though. I miss you…”

You hear him groan in angst, “I miss you too, my heart. This place is colder without you, even with the record high temperatures.”

The summer has been sweltering, and you’re both kind of pansies about it. You smile weakly, feeling a little emotional but not wanting to show. You all have never been this far apart before and nothing about the trip has made this an easier transition.

“You look adorable in your bonnet, baby. Is that a new one?” He inquires.

You chuckle Cardi B-like, tugging it down a little further, “Yes, I don’t use my home bonnets in public areas so this is my travel bonnet. Just a cheap little thing.”

“Hmm, well you make it look very chic, my God! The birds out here are shaking.” You both giggle at his silliness. M’Baku never fails to make you feel like you won the lottery.

You guys pause for a moment just looking at each other through the screen. “I got the dishes done earlier.” He says, raising his eyebrows with a sly expression on his face.

“Is that right? Well they weren’t going to do themselves so…” You say cooly.

“Oh Hanuman! Why are you being cruel to me.”

“I’m not being cruel, just saying you did something that needed to be done. Do you need kudos for that?” You say, picking a piece of lint off your robe.

“That is true. When I was doing them, I thought about how you can never keep your hands to yourself while I can’t defend myself.” He says leaning forward, biting his plump bottom lip. “You come up behind me, grabbing my waist….”

“Yeah, and I’d gyrate on that ass while you’re doing them, yup!” Putting on an extra hood accent. You swear you more gangsta than him.

His whole face smiles at your antics, “You say, ‘They better be spotless or I’ll have to teach you not to cross me, eh?’ And you do a terrible Wakandan voice, I die every time!” M’Baku laughs with his whole body: eyes closed tightly, head shooting back, teeth on full display and mouth wide enough to impress a dentist.

“Whatever, I can take you any day. Have you screaming uncle in a minute, punk.”

M’Baku looks at you, leaning on the desk, rubbing his lower lip with his thumb, eyes glazed like his mind is somewhere else for a second.

“What’s up with you?” You ask.

He shrugs, “Oh nothing, if you haven’t thought of it by now, I might as well call it a night then.”

You squint at him suspiciously, “What the hell are you talking bout?”

He screws his face up while hunching before continuing, “It’s just that I thought you were going to give me a prelude to your thankfulness for me handling your chores...”

“Is that so? My chores? My diet doesn’t require nearly as much dishware to prepare so I don’t get that. But at any rate, I believe that was reserved for when I get back home.”

“Yes, but I need something to hold my motivation.” He says, drawing out his thoughts slowly “It’s very challenging to go through the day without you here, I’ve almost forgotten what you look like-” He squints, dramatically peeking at your on the screen.

“Oh please!” You jeer at him, laughing. “Don’t be dramatic, M’Bop.”

“Ohhh, and you have the nerve to call me that from a distance when I can’t get my hands on you, you are a tyrant.” He says, practically purring.

“I do what I want, and what I want right now... is for you to tell me how bad you want your hands on me.”

M’Baku gives a full belly laugh. “Oh really? You’re challenging me to go first eh?”

“It’s a demand, get it right.” You say with HBIC attitude in tow.

He nods, speechless, as he starts to sit up. “I could show you now,” he looks down at his lap, then quickly back up to you. “But like I said, I have almost forgotten you. Now, your voice is softly kissing my ears, but your body, your body? Is still a blur...” He says covering his eyes with one hand, reaching out for the other.

Shaking your head with a cheesing grin, “Well we can’t have that. Ok, what do you miss about this?”

“Your ear?” He questions as you tug at your lobe.

“Yes, I am showing you my body little by little so you can recall what you like about each piece.”

He shake his head smirking at your silliness. “Ok, my darling. Ah yes, my love’s ear. With it, she listens so intently to my stories regarding my day, my transgressions, and my achievements. Whilst holding you close, I whisper into it, intoxicated by the scent of your curls. Whenever I am close to it, I am closest to you”

You nod approvingly, “Mk, sir. Pretty good. What about...this.” Reaching your hand in front of your face, giving it the you-can’t-see-me shake.

Leaning back and rubbing his beard he says, “I have never know such strength from such small things. When my hand envelopes yours, I feel safer and more at ease despite the comparison of them. The purest feeling of being blessed overwhelms me when I hold it to my lips. And when you take the time to graze it along my face, my body, I am powerless and embraced with surrender.”

You look away from the screen a second as heat begins to catch your cheeks.

“Was that getting to be too much for you, darling?” He says grinning like the devil incarnate. “Oh hush, you know what the hell you tryna do!” Fanning yourself, you graze your fingers down your neck. “What about this?”

“Mmm, I think that’s your favorite actually, my love. The tenderness of your neck possesses me to drown my face into it like a lap dog.” He chuckles at the thought. “And your squeals of playful bliss in reaction is a treat to behold, and I wish to witness, over and over again. I’ve also left a many marks there, so it’s practically got my name on it.”

“Boy...stop!” You spout in fake protest because you knew it was true, tucking your mouth in frustrated embarrassment.

His sights are set straight on you as he rest his hands on his thighs, “I also miss those lips, the ones you are biting on now. Not only do they speak motivating orations to build me up, they know just where my weakest points are; using their power for my pleasure, bending me to my defeat.”

You feel your heartbeat starting to build, suddenly you are quite thirsty. You twist a little as an ache begins to build, “M’Baku…”

“Just like that, my love. Those same lips speak my name, in a way that makes my relatives back home sound ignorant in their pronunciation. It sounds most sincere coming from you.”

You cover your eyes as you feel sweet angst from the man you love. What you wouldn’t do to teleport to him and bring him in between you.

“Now what am I supposed to do with all that? Hm?” You angle your phone down as slowly untie the sash.

M’Baku laughs, lays one of his sizable hands on the crotch of his shorts, “Yes, I think that’s the most prose I ever got out before you’d pounce me to either shut me up or relieve your lust.”

You start at the top of your robe, revealing one of your breasts.

He lets out a low pitched, guttural moan, clutching at himself, “Is it cold, my love? Or just joyful of my presence?” M’Baku says.

“Mm, a little of both I think,” you say huskily as you squeeze your arms together, making a more dramatic cleavage, feeling around your rising peaks.

“I miss the way you react to me, when I'm caressing them. The shake of your body when I am speaking in tongues in reverence of their ethereal beauty.”

Closing your eyes, you imagine just that. His encompassing mouth smiling as he hovers over you, keeping his gaze locked on you as he lowers his tongue across your areola, before he siphons your soul out of your chest. You hear him groan for a moment and look down to see him having made himself more comfortable, shorts around his ankles. His thighs a perfect spread creating an almost exaggerated thickness of his thighs as he sits on the edge of the bed, beginning to stroke in front of you.

“You are so beautiful, beyond any measure in this world,” He say breathlessly, gripping the top of his hair in distraction to keep from busting too fast.

“ohh, I miss your hands being on me. Trailing my back when you think I’m asleep to arouse me. The grip you put on my hips when you’re filling me from the back.” You reach down and pet yourself at the thought, angling your device towards your center. “You see how you’ve got me right now, baby?”

M’Baku leans forward, rubbing his beard with hunger as he licks his lips instinctively. “This is better than the Food Network. You’re getting this riled up over me?”

You laugh a little at his remark, “All for you. Shine that dick up for me, baby. I need you to match this moisture.”

He reaches for y’alls personal lube and works it in. He makes the task look effortless, when you get a good cardio workout whenever you work his tool. His 6’5 frame is an obvious tell of what he works with, and it is a marathon, not a sprint to wear him out. The slicking sound of he made as polished his pipe just about sends you over the edge. “Ah, (Y/N), you’re holding back on me. I want to be inside you. Go within yourself so I can feel your walls surrounding me.”

You slide a couple digits inside of you, biting down your gasp as you look down at your man hypnotized by your body.

“I can practically taste your excitement, darling. My lips enveloping your clit as you buck in sweet agony.”

There is a thud in the background.

You sit a little straighter, “What was that?”

M’Baku shakes his head, “Don’t worry about that, probably a car door closing next door. I want you to come for me, quickly.”

You look down at the screen. M’Baku’s face is perspiring a little; you see the sweat on his neck and chest and you imagine your hands gripping his shoulders as his length pummels you.

“Ohhh, I wish you were inside of me now,” You gasp as you angle the phone to show your fingers penetrating your vulva.

“(Y/N), Hanuman’s sake, look at that full, pretty pussy. You’re making this too difficult for me, I can’t--”

Soon, you hear the door being banged on, the sound of barks causes you to drop the phone.

“M’BAKU!! What was that??!!” you yell, covering yourself before picking it back up.

“Uhh, uhh…” M’Baku, has his shorts back on, covering his front, talking at the door in yoruba. “I said give me 30 minutes at least!”

“What was that, M’Baku?? Do you have someone there?!”

He comes up on the camera, “(Y/N), I would not have a reason to lie to you. But I did omit something before I got --”

The door bursts open, four of his tribesmen come in, chanting some drunken song in yoruba.

“Oh my God, M’Baku! I told you not to have them up in there! You can’t follow my rules for one day?!”

M’Baku is speaking to them, pushing them back out of the room. One of them points down at him, saying something that makes the others laugh and wave at you through the screen. M’Baku, covers himself again, yelling at them and pointing out the door as they scatter.

Closing the door, M’Baku comes up to the screen, “(Y/N)...” He draws it out like a purr, trying to coax you into forgiveness.

“No! Don’t say my name like that, what the fuck was that about!”

He bends his head, sighing. “They came unannounced. I didn’t have a chance to turn them down since they were banging at the front door, barging in.”

“And you didn’t tell them no? I thought you were their alpha or whatever, they don’t listen to you?”

“Theeyyy dooo…” He says screwing up his face, “But I figured, they’d be gone before you called, and I lost track of time…”

“Why would you keep this from me? I may have been ok if you had just texted me with the heads up! I got my tits and ass all out, talking dirty, what if they heard??”

“Enough! They were wrapped up in their show downstairs, they didn’t even know I was talking to you. And as far as them coming over, you’d never go for it, I know you. When they are here, you bang pots and slam doors, catching the cleaning-bug as soon as they are there until they leave. You can’t stand them!”

“Because they eat us out of house and home, keep using up the toilet paper and when they leave, it’s like a damn hurricane hit the living room!”

He gives you a look of contempt, “Are you done? Really, because you are upsetting yourself more after the day you had with this non-problem.”

“Don’t fucking dismiss me, M’Baku. I just don’t wanna come home to a pigsty when I get back.”

“It’s not like it isn’t one when you’re here,” he says under his breath.

“Nigga WHAT?”

“Hanuman sake, please, can we calm down and get back to something more pleas--”

“Ask them for a show then!”

You hang up on him. No way in hell you bustin’ open after all that foolishness. M’Baku brought his entire crew to your spot on day one! Why wouldn’t he even tell you though, doing some cam sex while they are downstairs, is he crazy?

You lay under the covers pouting. Any fun you hoped to have on this trip is looking less likely by the minute. Now even your man is bringing problems on you.

M’Baku paces the floor a couple seconds after the call ended. He wonders if you have gone mad all of a sudden. To go from the throes of passion to biting his head off is a feat only you could master. There was no way he would be groveling for forgiveness right now. This was his house too, he had every right to have company over, no matter who it was. The Jabari are his lifelong mates, what sense does it make to have to ask permission for family or friends to come by.

He makes his way downstairs, to see only two of his friends left and they were heading out of the door.

“Akoje! What’s going on, why are you leaving?”

They look at each other a moment in the doorway, then back at him, “Come on, M’Baku, you need privacy, you should’ve just told us. Plus, we don’t need to be on your lady’s hitlist. Thought not being here would make it a chill night but she finds a way.” The other Jabari laughs at this.

M’Baku peers down at them, “Ok, keep the comments light, eh? But I finished with her, I didn’t say leave.”

The other Jabari starts now, “No, you did not finish….” causing him to be elbowed in the ribs by Akoje as he giggles.

“Alright, Enache, mind your business. That seemed to be the only problem today was no one minding their own business! I asked for half an hour!”

“Ya, to take a shower! But that was Enache’s fault, he wanted to play Uno, and couldn’t find the cards so he decided to sniff you out.”

Enache huffs in disagreement, “It was Ogoro! That’s why he left out so quick. He didn’t hear your water running so he just said, let’s ambush, he isn’t doing anything! I respect your relationship, M’Bop.” He says with puppy dog eyes.

M’Baku’s eyes practically jump out of his head at their knowledge of his pet name. “HOW DO YOU KNOW--” he kisses his teeth throwing his palm out in their direction. “ Oh whatever! And don’t go lying under my roof.”

Akoje is shocked, clutching his pearls, “Honest to Hanuman! It’s wonderful! We hadn’t seen you fall this hard under someone since the Panther!”

“All right! GET OUT!” M’Baku goads them out with his booming voice as they scatter laughing and barking out to their cars.

M’Baku leans on the door as he takes a deep breath. Suddenly he is exhausted, so it was probably for the best that the guys left. He walks over to sit on his couch. Chip bags open and remnants scattered on the table. Half drunken and empty beer bottles line the edge and carpet by the furniture’s legs. M’Baku leans forward rubs his face in frustration before getting up and going to the guest bathroom. He opens the door before quiky shutting it, clutching his nose. Whatever happened in there is hopefully flushed and just needing to air out, but a disaster definitely erupted.

M’Baku decides that the mess will have to wait until tomorrow, it was already approaching midnight and his job starts in the morning at 6 am. Heading up the stairs he makes his way to the bedroom to take a quick shower. After toweling off, he heads for the bed, covers feeling cool against every inch of his skin. His body begins to wind down from all of the sexual frustration and Jabari disrespect, but is not used to the extra space in his bed. He is still mostly on his side, but feels over to yours, imagining your curves as his own personal skyline. He reaches for his phone to check, but nothing is on it from you, just a couple of memes from the other Jabari clowning him endlessly. He sets it back down, turning toward where you would be. He was already remorseful, especially since you were right, but he didn’t want to bar his guys from visiting, that is just rude. He takes a deep breath, drifting off to hopes of tomorrow being better.

*Part 3*

Other Works:

King Kil’mawalls

N’Jadaka’s Helpful Hands

T’akia

Commencement Day

The Ragtag

@sweetpeachjones @hairhattedghooligan @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @universalbri

#mbaku x reader #m'baku x reader #m'baku #mbaku #black panther #marvel #fanfic #black panther fanfic #marvel fanfic #mbaku x you #m'baku x you #mbaku fanfic #m'baku fanfic #writing

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ngame989 · 6 years

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I'll admit, many (including me) who are doubting how important Starco is to the show, and how Star and Marco are the only best fit to each other, and start following the illusions and lies of "not looking deep enough", are still shocked by the way season 3 "really" started. Separating on their own accord, Star returns to Tom, Marco back to square one and is often locked away until he's relevant again, not having dimensional adventures (or fun) onscreen like S1 and S2,etc. And I suddenly got(1/2)

the nightmares of the main characters not getting what they wants because growing up and bittersweet crap. I have guys like you and Seddm, malthuswibble, etc. to thank for making us see that beyond all the grief and heartbreak the show sprang on us, that Starco still lives, and is the most important pillar to this show, and making us appreciate even the minuscule moments of growth and harmony between Star and Marco... Season 4 better make up for all what Season 3 did though. (2/2)

Well I’m glad I’ve been able to contribute in some part to you feeling better about the show. Season 3 shook a lot of people, I get that, but the duration of time where it seemed in question that Star and Marco really had anything special (both by the show and by each other) lasted about 60 on-screen minutes, between Scent of a Hoodie and Lint Catcher. And considering that section is sandwiched between the entire end of season 2/BFM and the squire vows + all of Star’s reliance on Marco as a partner... I think any doubt is just the shipping goggles at work. And hey, I’m as guilty as anyone else, it took until Deep Dive for me to truly have confidence that nothing whatsoever changed on a fundamental level.

That said, subjectively speaking, I completely agree that Season 4 has some catching up to do. Not that there’s anything wrong with their relationship being deepened through some strife and miscommunication but... I think it’s safe to say no one really wants to see more of that to any significant degree. Anyone who fell in love with Starco during seasons 1 or early season 2 wasn’t saying “golly gee my favorite thing would be if they never got to be happy with each other ever again until the end,” and they’re certainly not saying it now after seeing that in action. Plus, like you mentioned, Marco emotionally distancing himself from Star right when the Star-centric plot kicked up made him kinda disappear for a lot of 3B, which wasn’t the most pleasing thing to see either.

But hey, considering the entire moral of Booth Buddies is that both of them want to be open, honest, and emotionally close with each other, there’s no reason to fear they’re going to keep doing the opposite of that. Plus, as I outlined previously, this show treats character/relationship development as its shining star, giving it every bit as much narrative gravity as most shows give to their plot and lore. Good shows don’t have the main character train forever and never seem to get past a decent level of strength and then suddenly oneshot the final boss, that’d be dumb and not show them earning their endgame power - in a similar manner, SvtFoE simply won’t (and arguably can’t) justify Starco as endgame-worthy without proving it in action over time, and at least among its contemporaries in animation, this is a fairly unique approach. I’m sure we’re not gonna go back to nonstop wacky adventures like Season 1, but Star and Marco actually having fun together, and having fun being together, can seamlessly integrate itself into whatever potential more “serious” plot might be cooked up.

Glad I was able to tackle at least one ask tonight, now if you’ll excuse me I’m gonna go pass out after day 1 of moveapalooza. I’ll catch up on asks as I find time/energy.

#answered #apraxiumrum

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architeuthid-blog · 8 years

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Books That Have Made an Impact On Me

The Pale King: It’s strange to read a book by a dead man, I mean a book that wasn’t finished because the author died but which was published anyway. In the literary world this is taken as a matter of course; one expects posthumous publications from renowned authors. It’s pathological, and it was hard to shake the feeling when reading one of these artifacts that you’re looking at something unintended for your eyes, like you’ve wandered into a dressing room and stumbled upon a clown who hasn’t finished putting on his makeup. Then again, the novel ends with the same abruptness and feeling of ruined orgasm as Infinite Jest, so maybe the difference is academic for Wallace.

That’s not what made this an impact though. It’s a certain scene, in the chapter from the point of view of the slacker-stoner character, who’s wandered into the wrong classroom and ends up listening to a lecture from an accounting professor. It’s the way he describes, in his airy confessional, the teacher’s attitude, a self-possessed man, without any of the corny jokes he’s used to from the humanities department, an assurance that everything he is saying is true and necessary, no filler, no need for emotional connection, just pure knowledge, a Kantian understanding of the world and its phenomena.

This semester I’m teaching a world literature course in the science & engineering building. Every day I arrive a few minutes early to set things up, and every day the previous professor is still occupying the classroom, either still lecturing about mathematics or staying after to answer students’ questions about the material. Every moment is filled. It’s pedagogy at its most efficient and essential. I bet she never feels the need to justify what she’s doing; the importance of differential equations is self-evident, even if one has (probably) never moved anyone to tears.

I’m sure it’s not always the case. Some of my students do seem to care about the Epic of Gilgamesh; I’m actually surprised how many, this semester around. And everything is more complicated than it first appears. I know nothing of this other professor’s life, her dreams, whether or not she’s happy, whether or not such a question actually matters. But every time I’m up at the lectern and have to fill an awkward silence, every time I’ve run out of things to say about some classical Indian epic and then realize there’s still 20 minutes of class time left, every time I ask a question about the text and am met with a sea of blank stares, I can’t help but think about The Pale King and the way that layabout was inspired by an accounting lecture.

Have I ever inspired anyone?

2666: Ah, and we’re hopping right back into morbidity. Another book that was never finished due to the author’s sudden non-existence. This might actually be, unintentionally, my favorite genre of literature. Few will argue against Bolaño’s genius, and 2666 holds up even incomplete, even incomplete and in translation (for Natasha Wimmer, though less celebrated, is also a genius). Beyond general prose mastery, this book is also remarkable for being telepathic: About halfway through The Part About the Crimes, I was sitting in a coffeeshop, thinking to myself, “Wow, all this violence is really starting to become a chore to get through, I wish something else would happen for a change,” and lo and behold, on the next page, the book suddenly lapsed into a bizarre, extended parody of One Hundred Years of Solitude. I have to respect that.

Bolaño has also been one of the largest influences on my writing style, mainly because I decided to write a story that imitated his prose, and, it turns out, imitation is not just the sincerest form of flattery, but also the best way to learn from someone. I swear less in my writing though. I’ve been uncomfortable with swearing, I don’t know why.

The Story of My Teeth: The first book on the list that isn’t a doorstopper and whose writer didn’t die before finishing it. Wow! Also the first book on the list written by a woman. Double wow!! Actually, I’m not quite sure what impact this book made on me, but it was a good one. It certainly made me fall in love with Luiselli’s writing. Her prose is just the kind of weird and humorous that I adore. (I was originally going to write “She’s just the kind of weird and humorous that I adore,” but I’ve never met her in real life, and so cannot make that kind of qualitative judgement. I was going to meet her, back in 2015, at a conference in Tucson, but I miscalculated when booking my flight and hotel, and so had to leave a day early. On top of that my flight was on Halloween, so I also missed out on one of my favorite holidays. I wouldn’t say that I was inconsolable, but I was certainly in an ill mood for a while.)

I’d talk about how Luiselli is like a reincarnation of Scheherazade, a master of the art of the story-within-a-story, but this isn’t LitHub, and the onanism I’m engaging in here is a different animal altogether.

(Even though I’ve written for LitHub before, I kind of despise them, for reasons that don’t quite add up. I think mainly they seem like yet another vanguard of the fake-woke brigade, and I can’t stand people who seem like nothing more than the masks they wear. Ooh, what to do, you’re being problematic again. And you just used “seem like” twice in quick succession. That’s shoddy craftsmanship.)

Not One Day: I actually just finished this book a few days ago. Actually, it hasn’t even been officially released yet (tee hee, I have an advance copy, well that’s less titillating that you might think). The conceit of the book is that the author, Anne Garréta (a member of the Oulipo, nonetheless!), has decided to spend five hours every day writing about different women she has desired over the course of her life. So it’s a confessional novel, but Garréta is very self-conscious about the fact that she’s writing a confessional novel, she knows how the sordid game is played. I, too, often feel self-conscious about the things I do, like I’m always late to the party. Fortunately, Garréta knows how to innovate. And not all her tales are erotic adventures; actually, very few are. One is about a little girl who develops a fascination with her. Another chapter centers around her learning that someone has a crush on her, but she never figures out who.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say here. I like the style. I’m narcissistic enough that I may steal it for something (just like I’m stealing this from someone--but I’m getting ahead of myself).

The Elephant Vanishes: This was gateway drug into the world of Murakami. Short stories are easier to digest than full novels; there are natural starting and stopping points, along with the sly exhortation that you can walk away at any time if you’re feeling unsatisfied. Of course, I was reading the book for an undergrad course, so that wasn’t really an option for The Elephant Vanishes, but then again I never felt the need to take advantage of that particular safety cord.

(The course was called “The Poet In Asia” and was a general survey of Asian literature, more or less. We also read Rumi, Li Bo, Du Fu, Matsuo Bashō, etc.)

Actually, there’s not much else to say about this one. I guess it also introduced me to post-modern literature, literature that maybe went beyond the mainstays of plot, characterization, and so on. Does that mean anything? Plenty of writers today would say no, that post-modernism is just privileged navel-gazing. But I do gaze at my navel a lot; it collects a worrying amount of lint over the course of the day.

Notes From Underground: Another required reading from my undergraduate years, twice: first in a mandatory “Narratives of the Self” class, then later in an elective course on Russian literature (Anna Karenina would have also made this list, but, I mean, c’mon). My major, incidentally, was philosophy. All of this is just tangentially related.

Notes From Underground taught me an important life lesson, one I didn’t even realize I needed until I had it. Oh wow, I hate myself a little bit more for writing that. I don’t even want to tell you what it is now.

Okay, I’ll give you a hint.

I saw some of myself in the Underground Man, and correctly understood that to be a bad thing.

Pale Fire: Did this book actually make an impact on me? Thinking about it, I’m not really sure. Formally it does something I think is cool. Moving on.

Minor Angels: The first Volodine novel I read. Of course that carries significance. It certainly delivered on its promise of its effect hiding not in the text itself but within the reader’s dreams. After finishing Minor Angels I woke up locked outside my apartment, around midnight, in January, barefoot in the snow, braving my way over slippery ice and pointy rock salt to reach the emergency phone. I need to stop talking about this event, or at least stop pretending that it somehow makes me interesting. This isn’t even the post-exotic novel that made the biggest impact on me. That honor would belong to. . .

We Monks & Soldiers: Everything comes around in great circles. Or small circles. Fuck, I don’t know. Everything is at least repeated here, and by here I mean in We Monks & Circles, er Soldiers. I like how we see the narrative twice, with slight variations the second time. It’s a genuine post-exotic form, the Shaggå, a series of seven sequences, repeated, and interspersed with commentary, impenetrable to the outside reader, any of which could be the enemy of post-exoticism.

Yes, this is hell of pretentious. No, I don’t care. Shut up. I hate you. I’m going to kill you. Oh noble son or daughter, you who are reading this, you shall die by my hands. Think on the Clear Light, though you will not reach it. You are doomed the wander the Bardo for forty-nine days until you are reborn into another miserable existence.

Also, the scene with the spider-girl in the burning hotel is pitch-perfect.

The Soul of an Octopus: This book made me jealous more than anything. Here Sy Montgomery is, going backstage to prestigious aquariums across America, getting to meet firsthand the octopuses in their care (not to mention a rather handsome-sounding marine biologist), and then she goes and writes a best-selling, award-winning book about the experience! Whenever I go to an aquarium, the octopus isn’t on display. Or they’re hiding. I can’t blame them for hiding, I’d be shy too if I were on display like that, but the former just seems like rotten luck. I was so looking forward to seeing the Enteroctopus dofleini at the New England Aquarium two Decembers ago, and her handlers had spirited her away that inauspicious winter day for some well-deserved r&r. At least I got a t-shirt.

I have gone to the following aquariums:

~Georgia Aquarium (Atlanta) ~Tennessee Aquarium (Chattanooga) ~New England Aquarium (Boston) ~Mystic Aquarium (Mystic) ~Tybee Island Marine Science Center (Tybee Island) ~South Carolina Aquarium (Charleston) ~Aquarium of the Bay (San Francisco) ~Shedd Aquarium (Chicago) ~National Museum of Play (Rochester) ~Aquarium (Endless Ocean: Blue World)

Our Lady of the Flowers, Echoic: It’s not the book itself that made an impact on me here, but rather its translation, by Chris Tysh. She takes Genet’s Notre dame des fleurs, a prose text, and transforms it, in her interpretation, into a poem. The effect is striking and opened the door to a vast array of translatory possibilities. Things were no longer one-for-one (nor had they ever been, but before this, it was merely an academic matter, shadows on a distant wall).

Granted, I’ve never translated a prose text into a poem, but then again, I’m not a poet. Poets have an easier time going crazy with translations, I think. The older generations didn’t even bother learning the source language. That’s probably taking things too far. But if Quine is right, then it doesn’t matter either way, I guess. Is Quine right? Who the hell would have a special word for “rabbitness instantiated”?

Autobiography of Red: Another book of poetry, another liberal interpretation of an earlier work. Turning and turning in the widening gyre, etc.

I’ll come out and say it: This book made me cry. I straight up teared up. I bet it made other people cry too. If you say you read Autobiography of Red and didn’t cry, I’m going to assume that you’re lying. Or that your literary sensibilities are far more refined than mine. Probably that second one. (Putting aside the fact that it’s hard to get more refined than Anne Carson, but rationality rarely enters my autoevaluative equations.)

Why did I cry? For all the normal reasons. Even when we identify with them, tragic characters will always be way cooler than we could ever dream of ourselves.

In the House upon the Dirt between the Lake and the Woods: I’m including this book here specifically because it did not impact me the way I thought it would. While reading it, I often felt tired, like I was running a surrealist marathon (especially once the narrator stopped transforming into a cephalopod). I can’t begrudge Matt Bell’s style; he does some interesting things with his prose. I get the feeling that he’s an ace when it comes to unreliable narrators. But things have to come to a close at some point, and so many times I thought I was finally reaching some sort of conclusion, only to discover that, nope!, we were just going a layer deeper, into the house, or the protagonist’s psyche, or the married couple’s past. So, even though this book was kind of a let-down, I still talk about it, because every condition contains the seeds of its opposite nature, and I’ve read Hegel too, Sam. Maybe Cataclysm Baby is better.

The Pillow Book: I would be remiss if I didn’t mention to book to which I am indebted for the form in which I wrote this whole shindig. I admire the way Sei Shōnagon writes about whatever seems to capture her fancy at any given moment. It’s incredibly intimate (and with reason: we’re essentially reading her diary. Why do people think it’s okay to publish others’ private writings? What would Anne Frank say if she knew her personal thoughts during a time of great trauma were now required reading for middle school students?). Her poetry is beautiful, yes, but it’s the lists that get me. They’re just lists of things, a show about nothing. But they convey so much about her, about her compatriots, about courtly life in Heian Japan. Last semester my students weren’t huge fans of this text; they preferred the Tale of Genji. They found the Pillow Book “too hard to follow.” I think maybe they just didn’t like how long the selection in the anthology was. But then again, judging by their research papers, many of them had no problem reading the New Testament Gospels (even if they had no idea how to write about said Gospels--it turns out, coming as a surprise to no one, that devout undergrounds have no fucking clue how to do Biblical exegesis). So here I am, taking up the one-woman literary tradition of a courtier who lived over a thousand years ago, for no reason in particular beyond a habitual shrug and a muttered “just because I felt like it.”

A Google search reveals that TV Tropes has an article on the Pillow Book. According to the anonymous author or authors of the page, Sei is an example of the “Alpha Bitch” trope. So, that’s enough of that web adventure.

Post-Scriptum: Reading over what I’ve written so far, it would be tempting to ask (like the rote commentator of any list on the internet), “Are these really the only books that have impacted you? What about The Dew Breaker? What about If on a winter’s night a traveler? What about Horror Recognition Guide?” That’s all well and good; plenty of other books have certainly stirred something inside me. The practical answer is one of laziness: I’ve written what I felt like writing about, and now I’m done. Or maybe, if I didn’t mention some book, then I didn’t inspire me as much as you might think it did. Or, I only wanted to include one book by any given author (with one obvious, but pre-eminent, exception).

Incidentally this entire exercise also borrows heavily from not just the Pillow Book but also Not One Day: Anne Garréta ends her confessional narrative with a P-S that’s essentially an apology and a shrug. Which is what I’m doing here, explicitly so.

Okay, I think I’m done.

#Books #David Foster Wallace #Roberto Bolaño #Valeria Luiselli #Anne Garréta #Haruki Murakami #Fyodor Dostoevsky #Vladimir Nabokov #Antoine Volodine #Lutz Bassmann #Sy Montgomery #Chris Tysh #Jean Genet #Anne Carson #Matt Bell #Sei Shōnagon #Squid life

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