#I'm very proud of the final product though

[ferronickel]

A very late Birthday + Christmas present for @gen-is-gone based on The Year of Intelligent Tigers by Kate Orman

I designed it to function as an alternate cover for the book as well!

[memento-morri-writes]

It's been well over a week now (maybe two??) but I'm still plugging away (ever-so-slowly) at this vignette about Zara and Rook. Zara's POV is a lot of fun to write, now that I have a better sense of her character. Writing this has really solidified in my mind the kind of person she is and how she acted when she was Rook's captain and mentor. She's very calm and collected in comparison to Rook, even when under a lot of stress.

Anyways, have a little snippet that I'm proud of from today, featuring the origins of the coin trick!

Pacing back and forth across her cabin floor, she rolled the coin back and forth over her knuckles again and again. The motion was easy, almost mindless, more muscle memory than real intent. The coin trick had been her favorite way to soothe her nerves for years now. She’d picked it up out of idle curiosity after watching a street performer dining in a tavern in Bon Largo, who had chatted with her for over an hour as she fretted about something mundane, never once dropping the coin from their fingers. The same performer had later tried to steal her coin purse and ended up with nothing but a new scar for their trouble, but Zara had learned two important things from the encounter: Not to trust a warm smile and a pretty face, and that keeping her hands moving kept her mind from dwelling too much on worrisome things.

one-time tagging @space-writes because they commented on my tags about Rook learning the coin trick from Zara in one of my other snippets from this piece.

[thatfandomslut]

Take Me, I'm Yours

Regina George x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

Trigger Warnings: SMUT, MDNI, 18+. Fingering (Reader receiving), oral (Regina receiving), use of strap (Reader receiving), nipple play (Regina receiving) power bottom Regina George, passive top Reader, car sex, rough sex.

Request:

Pleasssseemore of Regina George/rene smut

Synopsis:

College!AU where the Reader is in Theatre and she plays Juliet in Romeo and Juliet. Also, Reader is an English major who very playfully and casually quotes dirty things in Shakespeare play and sonnets. Which Regina secretly loves.

Mean Girls requests are open.

Even though Regina was (Y/n)'s girlfriend, Cady and Janis found it surprising when she found herself a seat beside them to watch the school production of 'Romeo and Juliet.' (Y/n) was going to play the lead, Juliet, while her friend, Marco, was to be Romeo. If this was high school, Regina would have refused to show her face at a function such as this, but this was college. Plus, Regina was excited to see (Y/n) perform. She knew just how much (Y/n) loved the work of Shakespeare. She loved it to the point that she would bring it into any conversation they were having if possible.

As the theatre grew dark the curtains lifted revealing a narrator, speaking about fair Verona. Regina leaned close to Cady, who was sitting beside her. "When does Juliet come in?" She questioned softly, trying to keep her voice a whisper. She really wished she could fast-forward all of the parts that (Y/n) wasn't in. She began to wonder if that was rude of her, but she stayed in place, waiting for an answer. After all, she came for one reason, and one reason only, to see the star of this show: her girlfriend.

Cady glanced over at Janis before leaning towards Regina in order to respond. "She's going to enter with her nurse. It'll be a little while. Just sit back and enjoy." Cady told her, gaining a slight side-eye. Still, Regina listened, leaning back in her seat as she tried to understand what they were saying on stage. They were using the old English version. There were a few words and phrases she was catching onto due to (Y/n), and her infinity of saying little Shakespearean phrases whenever she was excited or whenever she wanted to have sex (which was a bit off-putting at first, but Regina found it cute).

"Nurse, where is my daughter? Call her forth to me." Regina sat up slightly, hoping that this would be the scene that was finally revealed (Y/n). She was able to identify the fact that the woman speaking was a Capulet due to her red dress. (Y/n) had explained one night that Capulets wore red while Montagues wore blue. This was so the audience could tell who was who on stage. Right now, Regina just felt incredibly intelligent for knowing this fact and it made her smirk to herself slightly as she awaited (Y/n) to eventually show up.

Just as Cady said, it was the nurse who appeared first, looking frantic. "Now, by my maidenhead at twelve year old, I bade her come.—What, lamb! What, ladybird! God forbid. Where’s this girl? What, Juliet!" She called out, and Regina felt herself grow in excitement. Anytime she attended any of (Y/n)'s performances, she felt like she could barely sit in her seat when she had the feeling (Y/n) was about to appear on stage. She just loved seeing (Y/n) shine, and it was clear that the stage was where (Y/n) belonged. Regina would move to New York so (Y/n) could star on Broadway if (Y/n) asked.

Regina burst into a proud grin as (Y/n) entered the stage, her hair curled as she looked at her nurse. "How now, who calls?" It was her opening line, and now that play that was boring Regina had her hooked. One could argue that it was because (Y/n) was Regina's girlfriend that Regina had a newfound interest in the play, and Regina could not argue against that. She wouldn't dare to. Not when (Y/n) looked so beautiful on the stage. Cady and Janis looked over at Regina, who was now leaning forward, clearly interested. The action made Janis shake her head with a grin as she found Cady's hand and took hold of it.

After the play, Regina left briefly to retrieve the bouquet of roses she had bought from her car. As (Y/n) departed from the back, now wearing leggings and a sweatshirt with their college's name embroidered on the front, she ran into Regina's arms. "Hey, baby," Regina greeted as her arms wrapped around (Y/n). She was careful to not crush the flowers as she pulled away to kiss (Y/n). This action was quickly reciprocated. "You did so good up there. I got these roses for you." Regina said, passing the bouquet over to (Y/n) who lit up over the fact Regina brought her flowers.

"I'm glad you thought so. I was so nervous you wouldn't enjoy the performance. Normally, the school does more of the modern plays, but I suggested a classic. I wanted Hamlet, but this one is just as exciting. And! Thank you for the flowers." (Y/n) felt her cheeks turn red as she rambled on, Regina leading her to the car to drive them back to their apartment. "I'm sorry for rambling, I'm just really excited you enjoyed it."

Regina opened the door for her, kissing her cheek softly. "Don't apologize for rambling, my love. It's cute. And, how could I not enjoy it when you did so fucking fantastic tonight. You're born for the stage." Regina complimented as (Y/n) settled in her seat. She closed the door before heading to the driver's seat. Despite being the obvious bottom, little spoon between the two, she is not the passenger princess. She just enjoyed driving and having a sense of control over what she was doing. Even as a bottom, she commanded (Y/n) what she wanted and how she wanted everything done.

"Can I share something about another Shakespeare play, or are you all Shakespeared out?" She questioned curiously, looking over at Regina, who shook her head in a way to allow (Y/n) to continue. In response, (Y/n) straightened herself up as she cleared her throat. The action caused Regina to eye her suspiciously knowing some kind of dirty quote might come out of her sweet and almost innocent (if it wasn't for the Shakespeare filth quotes) girlfriend. "In Hamlet, when Ophelia says to him, 'You are keen, my lord, you are keen.' She meant that he was, well, horny. In response, he says, 'It would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.' Regina, I am keen."

A giant smirk twisted the edge of Regina's lips on her usual 'serious driving' face. Looking over for a brief moment, she had to bite down on the ever-growing upturning of her lips. "After seeing you on stage, I am 'keen,' too." She responded, causing (Y/n) to look over with a grin. "Isn't this the part where you say your Hamlet quote to me?" Regina teased as parked in her parking spot, her teeth still tugging at her bottom lip, wishing that it was (Y/n)'s bottom lip they were tugging on instead.

(Y/n) leaned back into her spot, unbuckling so she could turn to Regina more comfortably. "You're right, how rude of me not to respond properly. Regina, 'it would cost you a groaning to take off my edge.'" She said softly before moving the roses to the backseat carefully. Once she faced Regina, and the blonde had unbuckled, Regina's hands were slipped into (Y/n)'s leggings while (Y/n)'s hands were pushed up into Regina's shirt. They've both been here before, ravaging each other in their car as if they couldn't get caught.

Regina was quick in her actions to rub (Y/n)'s clit, wishing the girl was riding her face so she couldn't only feel how wet she was for her, but there was a chance she could taste it, too. However, the moan that had escaped (Y/n)'s lips made her forget her wish as she began to allow two fingers to slip in between the lips of (Y/n)'s pussy, teasing her momentarily. "Please, princess," (Y/n) whined pitifully, and Regina slipped her fingers in at the request. Anything for her future favorite Broadway star, right? The glass slowly began to fog as (Y/n) moaned in pleasure as she successfully unclasped Regina's bra from under her shirt, making Regina's nipples more accessible to her fingers. As (Y/n) cried out in pleasure because of Regina's fingers, Regina herself began to moan as (Y/n)'s fingers pinched and played with her hardened nipples.

It wasn't long before (Y/n) felt herself grow closer to her orgasm. "Regina, please, I'm so close." (Y/n) whimpered as her lips found Regina's the car windows around them were officially fogged. Normally, Regina would make her beg for her orgasm. But tonight was (Y/n)'s night, so anything she wanted, she was going to get. (Y/n) moaned loudly as Regina allowed her to cum on her fingers, the girl arching her back, her legs shaking slightly. A string of curses fell from her lips, but Regina could only focus on how pretty the girl's lips were.

Regina helped (Y/n) ride out her high before removing her fingers and sucking them clean. "Let's go inside, baby. I'll get you all cleaned up and we can watch a movie." Regina said softly as (Y/n)'s breathing became more leveled. She fixed her bra by just removing it from under her shirt, not caring if anyone saw her carry it into her house. Leaning over, she pressed a soft kiss to (Y/n)'s forehead, grabbing the roses from the backseat.

"Or, when we get inside, I can undress you, and eat you out." (Y/n) said, her words unusually bold, her voice still scratchy from her moans. Her chest was still heaving despite her catching her breath, but presumably because she was nervous and starting to breathe quicker once more. She expected Regina to say no because they typically did it in Regina's way. Which (Y/n) usually loved. She still wanted Regina to have control, but for a moment, she wanted to be the bold one. "I need to taste you, princess."

Her words caused a shiver to spread down Regina's spine as she glanced back with a smirk. "Okay, baby, let's do it then. Take me to the bedroom, and eat me out until I can't take it anymore." Regina leaned in, pressing a hungry kiss to (Y/n)'s lips before they pulled away, practically rising to their apartment. Their clothes were scattered on the apartment floor, but the roses were put neatly on the counter. As Regina fell backward onto the bed, she looked up with a smirk. "Take me, I'm yours." She whispered as (Y/n) kissed her deeply. The kiss was messy and their teeth clashed together as their tongues fought for dominance before (Y/n) pulled away.

(Y/n) left wet, bruising kisses down Regina's body, just the way the blonde liked it as she reached Regina's pussy. It wasn't long before (Y/n)'s tongue swirled along Regina's clit as she began to suck. Regina's back arched instinctively as she moaned loudly. When (Y/n) moved to begin eating Regina out as if she was her last meal, her finger took her tongue's place on her clit. "Fuck, baby, just like that." Regina's hands cupped her breasts, needing to do something with her hands as (Y/n)'s tongue swirled in her. Regina felt her heartbeat thrumming in her chest as (Y/n) made her forget her own name for a moment.

As Regina found herself growing closer, her legs began to shake as her moans came out more frequently. Her back arched more as she subconsciously began to grind on (Y/n)'s tongue. She loved the feeling of (Y/n)'s tongue and she knew soon their tastes would mingle when they kissed. "I'm so close, baby," she cried out to (Y/n), her hips stuttering, as she tried to hold herself back, wanting (Y/n) to tell her when to cum. It was the only time Regina relented control. It was something they both liked, holding each other's orgasms captive as they completely took away their ability to think straight.

"Cum for me, princess," (Y/n) instructed. Regina did so, crying out (Y/n)'s name. They forget if they have neighbors or not, but they don't care either. Regina's hips bucked as (Y/n)'s nose briefly hit her sensitive clit as she cleaned up all of Regina. Regina rode out her high on (Y/n)'s tongue, her eyes rolling back as she swore she could see stars. As (Y/n) finished, she kissed Regina deeply. Quickly, Regina reciprocated, mingling the taste of each other and moaning at their perfect concoction.

(Y/n) went to pull away in order to run their usual aftercare bath and to get Regina water, but the blonde stopped her. "No, I'm not done with you. If it's okay with you, I bought something you've been wanting to try." Regina was still shaky but stable enough to retrieve the strap from her nightstand. (Y/n) looked at Regina in shock as she grinned slowly. "I want you to ride me," Regina said, her voice echoing in (Y/n)'s mind.

(Y/n) swallowed thickly before she licked her drying lips. "I want to ride you, too." With the consent given, Regina began putting the harness on before inviting (Y/n) to climb on. (Y/n) grew even more wet as she did so before sliding on. The contact made pushed the harness down into Regina's sensitive clit, causing her to force herself not to buck her hips. (Y/n) moaned loudly as Regina's strap filled her up. "Oh, fuck," she cursed loudly, biting her lip. "Tell me when I can start." Her voice was shaky as she tried to wait, finding it hard as pleasure filled her up.

"You can start, baby," Regina told her before watching in amazement as her girlfriend bounced on the strap, her boobs bouncing with her. She couldn't help but moan, too at the perfect contact it made with her. (Y/n) cried for Regina, feeling like she was on Cloud 9. She was almost ashamed to say that her orgasm was coming much too quickly for her liking. But she continued to ride.

"I'm close, Regina. I'm already so fucking close." (Y/n) felt her body shake and her back arch as she grew closer to the orgasm she desperately tried to hold back. Regina moaned at her words, trying to think straight for a response. Instead, she mustered up a 'not yet' causing (Y/n) to cry out. Regina was desperate to cum with her as the two grew close. Their moans mingled in the air as (Y/n) took all of the length in proudly. She was beginning to wonder if she could resist this orgasm as her eyes screwed closed and her head fell back. Sweat beaded on her forehead before she finally heard Regina say it.

"Cum, baby. I'm cumming with you," Regina told her as she released with (Y/n). Their lips fell together, causing them to swell. (Y/n) stayed for a long moment on the strap as she shook in pleasure, bouncing every now and again to ride out her high. The action caused them both to moan every time. As (Y/n) removed herself, her chest still heaved. Regina kissed her softly before cleaning the strap and putting it away. "You wait here, baby. I'm going to get our bath ready and get us water."

(Y/n) couldn't refuse, her legs wouldn't allow her to walk anyways. Instead, she lay there, attempting to catch her breath as the sound of running water hit her ears and Regina grabbed her a water bottle. "You were amazing," (Y/n) complimented softly, her words barely coming out, her thoughts still trying to become coherent. Regina smiled over at her as they began to drink their water. "I wasn't expecting the strap, but I will say I am very grateful for it. I also liked that it was the one we picked out together." She said, activating one of their aftercare routines: talking about their time. It was important to communicate their feelings about sex.

Regina smiled over at her with a twinkle in her eyes. "I wanted to get it for you since it was opening night and you had been working so hard. I'm so proud of you, my star. And, I liked it, too." Regina pressed a kiss to (Y/n)'s cheek. "Now, let's go get in that bath before it overflows," Regina said with a teasing smile. She helped (Y/n) to the bath where they soaked their bathtub wine in a bath full of bubbles. It was the perfect end to a perfect day for the both of them.

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 5

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: SMUT, sexting, i guess a little bit of exhibitionism? not really but if we're splitting hairs, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, COMPLICATED FEELINGS! MEN NAMED KEVIN! YIJEONG?????

✧ WORDCOUNT: 7.4k (jesus christ)

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: TAKE A BITE 5 IS HERE!!!!!!!!! this chapter was ALMOST written in a planet fitness, but it wasn't. this chapter is also almost ENTIRELY smut, but the smut is important to the plot so leave me alone! i'm sorry to inform those of you that wanted more of yoongi's brain that this chapter is entirely reader pov, but there's a reason for that and i promise yoongi will be back before this story is complete <3

Chapter 5: I Think I Need Your Help

Next time can’t come soon enough.

Since Friday night, you’ve been alternating between being super proud of yourself for being direct and asking for what you want, and being equally repulsed by yourself for the way getting what you want has made you act. 

You’ve seen Yoongi once since the night in his studio, when he was coming home after pulling an all-nighter and you were on your way out to work, like two goddamn ships passing in the night.

You were in that barely functional state post-waking up where you were shocked you were even able to get your shoes on the correct feet before walking out the door, and the mere sight of him in a short-sleeved white t-shirt had you pausing where you stood and taking a looooong look. You’re that desperate. 

And he knows it, too. Exhausted as he looked, your blatant staring didn’t go unnoticed. Mercifully, though, Yoongi didn’t say anything. Just shook his head at you knowingly, smirking to himself as he pushed his front door open and stepped inside, presumably to go crash for a few hours.

You thought, foolishly, that a byproduct of your friends-with-benefits arrangement would be an ability to relax, loosen up a little bit so you’re able to be more productive during office hours. Don’t people say that about sex? That it clears the head? Well, those people have clearly never had Min Yoongi’s head between their legs.

You are decidedly not clear headed. You are wired, wanting, finding yourself zoning out in the middle of newsroom meetings thinking about Yoongi’s hands spreading your thighs, his lips wrapped around your clit, the way he groaned into your pussy. It’s fucking distracting.

You’ve never been like this before with anyone you’ve slept with. Sex with your ex had been good, even great sometimes, but you never really thought about it until it was happening. With Yoongi, you can’t seem to think about anything else.

Meanwhile, Yoongi has been busy, on a completely different sleep schedule from you all week. He’d given you fair warning before you left his studio Friday night, wobbly-legged and fucked out. He’s working on a very important track for an upcoming artist’s debut album, he’d told you. It’s due at the end of the day Friday, and he probably won’t have time for any… extracurriculars until it’s done. 

No big deal, you’d said! Dumb bitch.

It doesn’t help in the slightest that, as you’d hoped, nothing has really changed between you and Yoongi, aside from occasional suggestive texts (mostly initiated by your horny ass!!!!!!) exchanged throughout the day, sprinkled within normal conversation. No, Yoongi has continued to be himself: sweet, considerate, kind of nerdy. Sending you links to articles he finds interesting, or funny videos, or songs that he’s had on repeat. It is driving you insane.

On Thursday afternoon, you snap.

You open your phone on your lunch break to find that Yoongi has sent you not one, not two, but three devastatingly cute cat videos, and has provided his own commentary on them.

So, obviously, you text back with what you think is the only appropriate response to that kind of behavior. 

[12:14] You: i am begging you to put your cock inside me before i lose my mind

It is by far the most direct you’ve been since Friday night, far exceeding the coy flirtation you usually go for. You place your phone face-down on your desk with a shaky hand, staring down at your sad little salad. Lunch seems impossible now, what with your heartbeat thrumming in your ears and all.

Your phone buzzes not even a minute later, twice. Which stands to reason. You wanted Yoongi’s attention, and now you’ve got it. You take a deep breath through your nose and turn your phone back over.

[12:15] Yoongi: You’re begging, huh?

[12:15] Yoongi: You’re at work, baby. Can’t focus? Need it that bad?

Um. Yes, yes you do. And the way that you can practically hear his voice right now, in your ear, teasing. Fuck. Not helping.

You pick up your phone, hiding yourself behind the monitor at your desk so nobody in the office can see how flushed you’ve become all of a sudden. You’re on your lunch, and they should mind their damn business.

[12:16] You: yes

[12:17] Yoongi: You know I can’t help you until I’m done with my track.

That’s pretty much the response you expected, but you can’t help feeling frustrated about it anyway. He can’t take a break for an hour? You’d even settle for thirty minutes!

[12:18] You: i think you can and you’re just making me wait to be an asshole

[12:18] You: which is really dumb because i can just come to your studio tonight when i get off of work and you can take a break

[12:19] You: let me ride you in your chair

[12:19] You: fuck. you don’t even have to stop working yoongi

You’re acting desperate, you know that. You know how you sound. But you are desperate, can’t help it. Yoongi opened the floodgates to over three years of pent-up sexual frustration with his stupid tongue, and now it’s his fucking responsibility to deal with it.

You watch as the bubble pops up to indicate that he’s typing, and then disappears, then reappears again. Ha. Maybe you actually got him.

[12:22] Yoongi: If you think calling me names is gonna get you what you want, you’ve got another thing coming.

[12:22] Yoongi: You can come to the studio tonight if you really want to. But I can guarantee that you’re not getting my cock.

[12:23] Yoongi: Except maybe in that fucking mouth to give it something better to do than complain.

Holy shit maybe not!

[12:23] You: oh my god

You had a feeling, of course, that Yoongi liked being in control, that he liked to guide. He had coaxed your desires out of you so sweetly Friday night, letting you tell him what you wanted, but how he did it was his choice. But this is more than guiding. He’s telling you what’s going to happen if you come over. You shift in your chair, your thighs clenching.

[12:24] Yoongi: Hey. Tell me if this is okay, Y/N.

You can practically hear the words in his voice, soft, like when he asked you to stay when Seokjin came over to cook. The stark difference between this and the texts immediately before are almost enough to make your head spin. He’s giving you an out if you’re not into this. But you are into it.

[12:24] You: yeah

[12:24] You: yes. it’s okay

[12:25] Yoongi: I need you to tell me if I say or do something you don’t like, okay? No matter what.

[12:25] You: i will

[12:25] Yoongi: Good girl.

God. Being this turned on at work feels like a crime.

[12:26] Yoongi: I’m not trying to be mean, baby. I already told you, I’m dying to fuck you. I wasn’t just saying that.

[12:27] Yoongi: But when I fuck you, I want to be able to take my time.

[12:27] Yoongi: Wanna have you in my bed and not in my studio, first of all. All spread out for me so I can see all of you.

[12:28] Yoongi: Wanna taste you again. I can’t stop thinking about how good you taste, fuck. I didn’t take it slow enough last time, didn’t get to savor it, but I’m gonna fix that. Gonna make you come with my tongue again before you even get my cock, get you nice and wet for me.

[12:29] Yoongi: Not that it takes much. Bet you’re wet right now, aren’t you? Just from this?

Oh, he’s so mean. Your thighs clench again and you chew on your bottom lip as you type, hyperaware of the way the thin fabric of your panties clings to your sex. It feels so dirty, knowing that in a few minutes you’ll have to work like this. You’ll have to talk to your colleagues like this, pretend like nothing’s amiss. You’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t turn you on even more.

[12:29] You: yeah. god, yoongi. i am

[12:30] Yoongi: Yeah. I know, baby. It’s okay. I’m gonna take care of you when I can. Gonna make you feel so good. You sounded so sweet when you came for me last time. Can’t wait to hear what kind of pretty noises you’ll make when I get to have you properly.

[12:31] Yoongi: Fuck, Y/N. If you think I don’t wish I was with you right this second you’re insane. Been dreaming about your pussy. But I wanna do this the right way.

You believe him. Even through your phone, you can feel it—that raw honesty that Yoongi always gives you. He’s been agonizing over this just as much as you have. It makes you feel a little bad, honestly, that you so wantonly distracted him like this, when he’s been working so hard this week. Maybe part of you wanted to get back at him for denying you what you wanted on Friday, but now, you realize that you’re glad he did. You want all of that, too. Everything he said, every word of it. Just because this is casual doesn’t mean you have to rush.

Maybe it’s time for you to give him a little honesty of your own.

[12:32] You: i want that too

[12:32] You: shit i have to go back to work soon but i promise i’m not trying to rush this i just…

[12:32] You: really, really want you

[12:33] Yoongi: I want you too.

[12:33] Yoongi: Soon, okay? Really really soon if I can help it.

You look up from your phone when the chime of an Outlook notification snaps you out of your bubble, directing your attention to an email from your boss. With a longsuffering sigh, you click it open. He wants to talk to you as soon as you’re available, and your salad isn’t going to eat itself, so you resign yourself to letting Yoongi get back to work.

[12:35] You: soon

[12:35] You: go back to work. that grammy isn’t gonna win itself

[12:36] Yoongi: Lmfao. Go back to work, she says, as if she didn’t just give me the most persistent boner of my life unprovoked.

[12:36] You: motivation!

[12:36] Yoongi: Motivation for me to do more inappropriate shit in my place of business, maybe. But it’s a lot sadder when I’m by myself.

[12:37] You: wowwwww pics or it didn’t happen

[12:37] Yoongi: YOU go back to work, pervert.

You do. Begrudgingly.

You quickly type an email to your boss, just a cursory, ‘There are fifteen minutes left in my lunch, and then I’ll be there. Thanks Kevin!’ Afterwards, you scarf down your lunch. And you finally watch those cat videos Yoongi sent you, which effectively tamps down your horny high enough for you not to feel icky about meeting with your boss. 

★ ★ ★

Fifteen minutes later on the dot, you’re knocking on Kevin’s door.

You like your boss well enough. As much as one can like their boss, maybe, give or take a bad day. Kevin is nice, but his name is stupid, and he certainly doesn’t live up to your expectations of what a music journalism editor would be like when you first applied to Look Here Magazine.

Foolishly, you expected someone straight out of Almost Famous: young, wears band t-shirts beneath blazers, a chainsmoker, a little bit sleazy, with music knowledge to put Nardwuar to shame. Instead, what you got is a mostly-bald, clean-cut, mid-forties guy who wears khakis most days of the week and says things like ‘circle back’ and ‘best practice.’ He’s competent, sure, and you need him to like you, absolutely, but he does make your job feel a little less cool. But who knows! Maybe Kevin rocks out on the weekends. You certainly don’t, so who are you to judge?

Kevin waves you in, and before you even have the chance to sit down, he’s dropping a bomb on you that makes you feel like your legs are going to give out beneath you.

“You’re taking charge on the Yijeong profile piece,” he says flippantly as peers over his glasses at his monitor, typing without pause.

There’s absolutely no way you just heard that right. Yijeong's profile was assigned already, to a reporter who has been at Look Here a lot longer than you. You tell Kevin as much, as if he wasn’t in the newsroom when the piece was pitched in the first place.

“Sora didn’t have enough bandwidth to juggle the profile and the reunion tour coverage, and that’s going to be on the cover,” Kevin says, without even a passing glance to you. As if he isn’t altering the trajectory of your career over a scheduling conflict. “It’s all you, kid.”

“I don’t have the contacts,” you blurt out, having mercy on your poor, wobbly legs as you sit down.

“Ask Sora for the contacts.”

“Don’t you want someone more experienced for this? Connected?”

It’s not that you don’t want it. Writing a profile on someone like Jang Yijeong is a dream come true for someone as green as you are. It may not be the cover article, but the headline will be written on the cover, and so far you’ve only written the puff pieces that readers likely use to pad outgoing mail. If you do this right, there’s a chance of less puff pieces and more real journalism.

It’s the if that scares you. Jang Yijeong has rebranded his entire career from being an idol to being a producer, so he’s technically considered an up-and-coming artist where Look Here is concerned. Nobody has heard his name in a few years, and a piece on him by a publication like Look Here could make him the most sought after producer in the country, if he plays it right. 

But Yijeong has also been in the music industry for a long time. He’s been interviewed by countless reporters. He’s media trained. Good media training is a death sentence for profiles, which are supposed to dig deep into the subject. Trust is everything in this kind of situation, and if Look Here sends a rookie like you to interview Jang Yijeong without the proper connections, without someone to vouch for you, he will show up to the interview with a script in hand. The profile will be a dud and your career will pay the price.

Sighing, Kevin finally stops typing, looking at you for the first time since you walked into his office. You shift in your seat, trying to make yourself look less fucking terrified.

“Look, I could hand it off to someone else, but you’ve been doing a good job these past couple of weeks. In your interview, you told me you’re most interested in writing features. That you’re good at it. I’m throwing you a bone,” he says, and you take a shaky breath. “Take the piece. Don’t try to reinvent the wheel. You’ve written profiles before, you know what to do. Just ask good questions, don’t be stiff, and you’ll be fine.”

Kevin’s phone rings, and his attention is stolen again as he picks it up to answer it without a second thought. “Talk to Sora, and then take the day out in the field tomorrow to see what kind of background you can dig up,” he says, waving you out with the same indifference he waved you in with. You scramble to stand up, rushing to leave.

“Deadline is Wednesday!” he calls as you shut the door behind you, taking a moment to catch your breath before you try to find Sora.

Holy shit.

You have work to do.

★ ★ ★

You spend your entire day on Friday pounding pavement, milking all of Sora’s sources for what they’re worth, but you don’t learn any information about Jang Yijeong that you can’t find on his Wikipedia page.

You don’t give up easily, though. No, you plan to put your investigative reporting skills to good use, via a healthy session of social media stalking. You can find out a lot about someone from what they post on X and Instagram, after all. You have to reach out to Yijeong’s label to schedule an interview as soon as possible, and if you have to get your hard hitting questions based off of what you can glean from a meal he photographed in 2013, so be it.

It’s ten at night by the time you flop onto your bed, phone in hand, ready to pull an all-nighter and plunge yourself into the rabbit hole that is Jang Yijeong’s social media. Pepper hops up with you, curling up on your stomach and purring contentedly as you start scrolling.

Nearly two hours and ten possible interview questions later, your phone buzzes in your hand. It’s Yoongi.

[11:47] Yoongi: Are you coming over or not?

Oh, fuck. It’s Friday. Meaning Yoongi is done with his track.

You’d almost forgotten how horny you’d been for the past week, completely absorbed in your assignment. It stands to reason that as soon as Yoongi is free, you’re suddenly swamped with work of your own. But, of course, it all comes rushing back just from a text.

Whatever! You’ve been at it for hours, anyway. You deserve a break.

[11:49] You: when did you get home?

[11:49] Yoongi: About half an hour ago.

[11:50] You: hmmmm… did you take a shower?

[11:50] Yoongi: Obviously. I’ve been in the studio for most of the week. I’m not an animal.

You snort to yourself, which scares the shit out of Pepper after your complete silence for the past two hours. You’re suddenly proud that you had the foresight to take a shower of your own when you got home from interrogating people all day, although this wasn’t on your mind at the time. 

[11:50] You: leave the door open?

[11:51] Yoongi: Will do.

You very carefully nudge Pepper off of your stomach, giving yourself a cursory glance in your mirror once you’re up. You make sure that your hair looks good at least, but your clothes don’t matter as much. It’s not like they’ll be on for long anyway.

Satisfied with what you see, you make your way through your apartment, grabbing your keys to lock your door on your way out.

Maybe it’s the workload that was dumped on you yesterday, but you feel much more level headed about this than you thought you would. It’s like your body has finally caught up with your brain, and you can recognize this part of your relationship with Yoongi for what it actually is: stress relief. You’ll go to his apartment, he’ll give it to you so good, and then you’ll go back to work and he won’t care because, like he told you before, he gets it. You’re giddy just thinking about it.

Walking into Yoongi’s apartment isn’t daunting, nor is locking the door behind you. Nor is finding him on his couch and climbing into his lap without even a hello, crushing your lips to his the way you’ve spent all week dreaming about.

Yoongi makes a surprised noise against your mouth, his hands hovering at your waist, but he quickly melts into the kiss, letting you take the lead for a moment as his hands find their place, pulling you closer. It’s only when you tease the seam of his lips with your tongue, silently requesting entry that he pulls back, forcing you to breathe.

“Hi,” he says, clearly amused by your enthusiasm.

“Hi,” you parrot back, grinning.

His hands slip from your waist to your hips as he looks you over, toying with the fabric of your sleep shorts. “Remember what we talked about yesterday?” You hum coyly, guiding his hand under the hem, which makes him huff, shaking his head with a smirk. “Wanting to do this the right way,” he reminds you, quickly removing his hand from where you led it, instead opting to smooth it over the curve of your ass.

“Easier said than done,” you reply, feeling bold enough to take the initiative that he won’t and sliding your hands under his shirt, running them over his abdomen. The fabric bunches up, and you can’t help but stare at the tantalizing inch of pale skin you’re rewarded with.

You gasp in surprise at the light spank Yoongi gives your ass in return, not nearly hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough for you to pull your hands away. You know a warning when you see one—or feel one, that is. When you look up at him, he’s raising an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you said you wanted it like that,” he hums, rubbing over where he smacked you. “There’s always the alternative.”

Oh. That.

You wish you could say the thought of letting Yoongi fuck your throat wasn’t appealing, but there’s no hiding the way it makes you squirm, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. Yoongi hasn’t been particularly rough with you yet, but he’s hinted that he can be, if you want it. You imagine his hand on your jaw, encouraging you to open wider for him. Your eyes watering as you struggle to breathe through your nose. You still don’t know what his dick looks like, how thick it’ll feel on your tongue, how much your jaw will ache, but you’re eager to fill in the blanks of your imagination. You’ll definitely take him up on that one day, but no, he’s right. 

You want to come. You want him to make you come. As stubborn as you are, you can’t deny that.

“You can take your time,” you mumble, meeting his eyes. 

He smiles, bringing his free hand up to cup your face, his thumb rubbing your cheek like it did that night in his studio. “Good girl,” he murmurs, rewarding you with a sweet kiss that makes you moan, shifting your hips to grind against the bulge you feel stiffening under you. 

Yoongi pulls away from your lips with a chuckle, patting your hip gently. “Up,” he says, and you scramble to your feet, no more bratty attitude to be found at the moment. 

He stands with you, guiding you by the hand to his bedroom. Since he’s so adamant about taking his time, you take a moment to glance around the room, taking in all the little things about it that reflect what you’ve learned about Yoongi over the past several weeks.

Like the rest of his apartment, his bedroom is much cleaner than you would’ve assumed. There’s a desk with a small home studio setup, much more sparse than what you’ve seen in his actual studio. The equipment looks old and well-loved, and you wonder how long he’s had it. A basketball jersey hanging over his desk chair with his name emblazoned on the back. A dresser with various jewelry scattered on top, chains and rings and earrings. 

His bed, of course, takes up the most space in the room. Where you have a queen bed in your own bedroom, you note that his is clearly a king, with a soft looking black comforter over top. A comforter that you’re about to be pressed into, you think. 

Yoongi comes up behind you, his hands on your waist, lips on your neck trailing kisses over your nape and making you shiver.

“Relax,” he murmurs, huffing a laugh that you feel more than hear. “Lie down for me?”

You nod, walking to the bed and settling flat on your back. God, is this a Purple mattress? You hate him a little bit. You found your mattress on the side of the road.

Yoongi doesn’t give you long to stew on your hatred, though. Not when he’s spreading your legs, your feet planted flat on the mattress beneath you so he can fit his hips between your thighs. Not when you can feel how hard he is already, even through the layers separating you.

He kisses you again, long and slow and hot, all of your breath leaving your lungs at the feeling of his lips on yours. “Remember to stop me,” he mumbles between kisses. “If I do something you don’t like.”

You honestly find it hard to believe that Yoongi could do anything you wouldn’t like, but you nod your head jerkily in response, not wanting to separate from his lips for any longer than necessary.

Soon, he’s pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck as his hands push your shirt up slowly, only separating himself from you to pull it off entirely and toss it aside on the mattress.

“Fuck,” he groans at the discovery that you aren’t wearing a bra, his hands immediately coming up to squeeze your breasts. “Wanted to make it easy for me, huh, baby?” 

In reality, you’d just been dressed for bed, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that, unable to form the words as his lips travel down to your chest, his tongue coming out to lave over a nipple.

You moan, your head falling back onto the mattress under you with a dull ‘thunk’ as Yoongi wraps his lips around the sensitive bud and sucks, your hands flying up to tangle in his hair.

“You like that,” he teases, a statement and not a question. He lifts his head, looking down at your tits with his bottom lip between his teeth. “So pretty, baby.” 

Your cheeks flush warmly at the praise, and desperate to shift the attention away from yourself, your hands slide down to his chest, fisting in his shirt and tugging.

“Your turn,” you breathe, and he chuckles as he sits up on his knees, tugging his shirt over his head.

You can’t help but stare. It’s not that you thought that Yoongi would be skinny, per se, but he does have a tendency to wear clothes a little too big for him, dwarfing him, and given his already small stature due to his height… Not that you would’ve minded in the slightest if he was on the scrawnier side, but Christ. He’s decidedly not scrawny. He’s lean, with shoulders broader than you would’ve given him credit for at a passing glance. 

And now here you are, gifted with an expanse of pale, smooth skin over compact muscle. Your eyes roam over him, from dusky nipples all the way down to the thin trail of dark hair starting right under his navel and leading your gaze down to where his cock strains against his sweatpants.

You don’t think you’ve ever wanted to touch somebody so badly in your life. The best part is that you can.

And you do. You feel greedy, your hands reaching out to smooth over his chest, down his abdomen, your eyes half-lidded and lips parted in a daze. 

Yoongi lets you touch all you want, but when your hands move down to cup his erection through his sweatpants, you hear his breath hitch as he stops you, shaking his head and pinning your arm to the mattress gently.

“Your turn,” he murmurs softly, throwing your words right back at you. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your shorts, tilting his head at you as he starts to pull them down, the movement torturously slow. “Wanna see if you skipped the panties, too.”

You lift your hips so he can pull them down the rest of the way. You are not, in fact, wearing panties, because you were going the fuck to sleep originally, and you hear him suck in a breath after the shorts are discarded.

“What the hell did I do to deserve you?” he breathes. You ignore the funny thing your heart does in your chest at his words, opting instead to focus on his hand drawing closer to you.

You both moan when his fingers slide over you, finding you soaked once again.

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses as he gathers your slick with his fingers. He drags them slowly up to your sensitive bundle of nerves and circles around it, only to slide back down again, repeating the motion again and again. You moan every time he reaches your clit, your hips bucking up into his touch.

“This pussy,” he starts, and you lift your head at sudden motion as he sinks down to lay on his stomach, holding himself up with his elbows, “gets so fucking wet for me.”

His pupils are blown as he hooks your legs over his shoulders, just like last time, but instead of going right for it, Yoongi starts pressing kisses to your thigh. Your head falls back onto the mattress again, and you squeeze your eyes shut as he continues to speak. 

“Been thinking about this all week,” Yoongi mumbles into your skin, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, forcing a gasp out of you. “You make it impossible to focus, you know that?”

A high, needy whine falls from your lips as he suddenly runs the tip of his tongue between your folds, and when you lift your head to watch, he pulls away, his dark eyes meeting yours in a smoldering gaze.

“I could’ve been done with that track on fucking Tuesday,” he says, dipping down again to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, making you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair again. “Do you know how many times I jerked off thinking about being between these thighs again?”

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you whimper, his words conjuring images that make you feel as though you’re coming apart at the seams. Yoongi chuckles darkly, pressing a kiss to your clit.

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he praises, his tone so dark it sends a shiver down your spine. “Gonna make you say my name like that again, baby. You want it?”

“Yes,” you gasp out without a second thought. You need his mouth on you so bad you feel like you’re going to explode. “Shit, please.”

“So polite.”

Yoongi doesn’t make you wait any longer, his head dipping back down again so he can taste you properly, the flat of his tongue licking slowly over your pussy.

“Thank you,” you moan, the words slipping out completely outside of your control. Yoongi’s movements pause for just a fraction of a second, and suddenly you’re overwhelmed with the worry that ‘thank you’ was a fucking weird thing to say to the guy eating you out. But then you feel Yoongi’s responding moan right into your cunt, the vibrations making your eyes roll back into your head, and his tongue resumes its movements. 

True to his word, he’s taking his sweet time, savoring every bit of you, but you don’t fucking care. You want his cock, desperately, but he can stay down there for hours if he really wants to so long as it feels like this.

You lose track of time, your thighs trembling around his head as you lose yourself in the feeling of his tongue, but you’re quite literally yanked back into the moment when Yoongi lifts his head again, forcefully dragging you closer and latching his lips around your clit. 

“Fuck, fuck—Yoongi, fuck!” you cry out as Yoongi makes it abundantly clear that he’s no longer interested in dragging this out any longer. The way he’s eating you out now is going to make you come, and soon. 

You can hear the wet, filthy sounds of his mouth on you, even over the blood pulsating through your ears, even over the way you’re moaning for him as your orgasm barrels closer. 

Your fingers pull at his hair, your hips shifting to grind against his tongue, and he moans into you again, his hands grasping at your hips to help you move. You take the action for what it is: he wants you to come. Like, now. Well, he doesn’t have to fucking tell you twice.

For the second time, you come from Yoongi’s tongue, writhing beneath him as you moan helplessly. Your body feels like it’s on fire, your muscles clenching and unclenching as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly. 

Yoongi works you through it, but unlike last time he can sense your impending overstimulation before you need to push him away, shifting to sit up on his knees as you catch your breath. 

“So fucking sexy,” he grunts, running his hands over your body as his eyes trail over you appreciatively. 

Shit, he’s one to talk. He looks so hot like this, his hair a mess from your pulling, his lips and chin slick from your pussy. 

Not to mention, just like last time, he’s so fucking hard. The only difference is that this time, he’ll let you have it.

“Wanna touch you,” you breathe, already pushing up shakily to slide your hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. Yoongi makes no move to stop you, his breath hitching as your hand wraps around him.

His length feels thicker than you expected in your hand, your mind instantly wandering to how it’s going to feel inside of you very soon. You don’t think you’ve ever taken something this thick before, and you want it so fucking bad.

“Shit, baby, just like that,” Yoongi grits out as you start pumping him slowly, his hips bucking forward into your hand. “Feels so good.”

You lean up to capture his lips with yours, tasting yourself on his tongue as the kiss quickly turns sloppy and desperate, lacking all finesse but somehow still so goddamn sexy. All the while, you keep touching him, his breath coming out shaky through his nose as he licks into your mouth with heat. 

When your grasp on his cock gets a little firmer, his hips stutter and his hand comes up to grasp your wrist again, urgently halting your movements.

“Gotta stop. ‘m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he says, pulling away. There’s a flush in his cheeks, spreading down to his chest. It’s almost cute, but then he opens that fucking mouth again, his eyes locked on yours. “Wanna come inside you.”

Fuck.

“Yeah,” you breathe in agreement, nodding jerkily and pulling your hand from his pants in an instant. “Want that. Fuck me.”

Yoongi groans, his eyes shutting tightly. He shakes his head. “Need a minute,” he says, his voice almost pained. “Fuck, you’re too much.”

He busies himself with reaching over your body and across the bed, pulling open the drawer of his bedside table. You keep your hands to yourself, ignoring the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch again. If he needs a minute, he can have it. You’ve waited this long.

Once his body returns to yours, he tosses a condom next to you on the bed before dipping down to kiss you again. His lips are gentle on yours this time, slow and almost sweet, unlike any way he’s kissed you so far. The chasteness of it throws you off, but it isn’t necessarily unwelcome—not from Yoongi, at least. He’s probably just trying to chill the fuck out so he doesn’t come too fast, you reason.

After a few minutes, though, Yoongi’s lips part from yours and he presses one last kiss to your temple, reaching for the condom beside you.

“Ready?” he asks, the edge of the foil packet held between his teeth as he sits up, using both hands to push his sweatpants down.

Your eyes are glued to him as he rips the packet open carefully, rolling the condom onto his cock. Your imagination never would’ve done him justice. The sight of his long fingers wrapped around his length is enough for your last thread of patience to snap.

“I think I’m going to die if you don’t fuck me right now,” you say honestly, your eyes unmoving from his cock, and he laughs, sliding a hand up your thigh.

“Dramatic,” he teases, his fingers trailing over your pussy, ensuring that you’re still wet enough to take him. “You think you’re ready for it?” he asks, two fingers prodding at your entrance before they start fucking into you easily. 

You whine, your back arching as his fingers scissor inside your pussy. “Can’t wait anymore,” you gasp out, and he relents, withdrawing his fingers to wrap them around his cock, shifting so he’s over you again.

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, the tip of his nose grazing yours at this proximity. You feel the blunt head of his cock running through your folds, one last tease, before he lines himself up with your entrance. “I’ll take care of you, baby. Promise.”

Your legs wrap around his hips as he slowly eases in, his breath shuddering next to your ear as he fills you bit by bit. The stretch makes your head spin, but Yoongi takes his time just like he promised, rubbing your hip soothingly to keep you relaxed.

“Finally,” you breathe when he finally bottoms out, and he laughs.

“Yeah? Gonna thank me again?” Yoongi jokes, but the way his cock twitches inside you betrays the way he really feels about that.

“Maybe when you make me come,” you quip in return, but his hips draw back, giving an experimental thrust back into you, and suddenly nothing is all that funny anymore.

You both moan, and Yoongi trails his nose up the side of your neck as he does it again, setting a rhythm of long, slow strokes.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, the wrecked sound of his voice sending a flare of arousal through you, causing your walls to clench around his cock. “You feel so good.”

All you can do is moan in response, your arms looping around his shoulders, hands in his hair. “Squeezing me so fucking tight,” he grits out, fucking into you just a little bit faster, a little bit deeper.

“Like that,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his hair out of desperation.

“Yeah?” he groans, snapping his hips into you with more force now. “You want it harder, baby?” At your choked ‘yes’, it’s like a switch has flipped, Yoongi’s hips snapping into you so forcefully you see stars, your thighs beginning to shake on either side of him as he slams into you.

His hands smooth up your thighs, deep thrusts continuing uninterrupted as he positions your legs, pinning your thighs between your bodies so you’re practically folded in half, and oh, fuck. The angle change makes the head of Yoongi’s cock hit the spot that makes you cry out, your nails dragging down the length of his back as you become instantly aware that you’re going to come soon.

“Mm–Yoongi, fuck, please don’t stop—I’m so close, please—”

“Taking me so good,” he groans. “Touch yourself, baby. Make yourself come, I’m right there with you.”

You obey instantly, your hand sliding down between your bodies to rub your clit with two fingers. Your walls flutter around him, making him hiss as you teeter on the edge of your impending orgasm.

Yoongi braces himself, held up with his hands on either side of you. It’s his eyes on you, his lip between his teeth as he watches you touch yourself that finally sends you hurtling over the edge. You squeeze tightly around him as you come, your body convulsing under him as the pleasure washes over you, his name falling from your lips over and over.

“Nghh, good girl, shit,” he grunts, the rhythm of his hips instantly becoming erratic. “Fuck, Y/N. Gonna come.”

It only takes a few more thrusts before you feel Yoongi’s body tense, his cock pulsing inside of you as he spills into the condom with a groan. He drops down to his elbows carefully, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss, his lips moving languidly over yours. 

You kiss him back, but after a few moments you’re suddenly hyper aware of how… intimate this feels, kissing like this as he softens inside of you. You pull away to look up at him. “Thank you,” you say, grinning tiredly as you try to break the tension surrounding the moment.

It seems to work, because Yoongi laughs breathlessly, pulling out of you with care and shifting off of the bed to dispose of the condom. “Funny,” he says.

You take the opportunity to sit up, despite your body feeling like jelly. You don’t think you can take Yoongi cleaning you up on top of what just occurred.

“Bathroom?” you ask, heading to it when he points you in the right direction.

You clean yourself up quickly, and when you return Yoongi is, mercifully, dressed again and retrieving your shorts from the floor for you. You take them with a small, grateful smile, pulling your shorts and top back on.

“So you got your track done?” you ask, trying to make some light conversation.

Yoongi scoffs, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Few hours ago,” he says, tilting his head and looking at you a little funny. Whatever he’s thinking, though, he doesn’t say it. “How was your week, anyway? I know I was a little M.I.A.”

You brighten the slightest bit at his question, joining him on the bed. “Actually,” you say. “Something pretty cool happened yesterday afternoon.”

“Yeah?”

“I kind of got entrusted with this huge assignment. I don’t know if I’ll be able to pull it off, but if I do, it’s a career changer, for sure.”

“Oh yeah?” he says, grinning at you. “That’s great, Y/N. You deserve it.”

His praise makes you blush, looking down to pick at a loose thread on his comforter. You only blush because you know he means it. Yoongi actually reads your stuff. Rina doesn’t even really read your stuff, and she’s your best friend. But maybe it’s because Yoongi is in the music industry and the stuff you publish is more interesting to him.

Yoongi is in the music industry.

It’s like a lightbulb goes off in your head, and you shift closer to him.

“Actually,” you say. “I’m kind of struggling with it? And I was wondering, um… I’d really appreciate it if you could help me out a little bit. Do you happen to know Jang Yijeong?”

Yoongi stiffens next to you, not a lot, but enough for you to notice from this close. “Yeah, I know him,” he says anyway. “We’re friends.”

You’re confused by his reaction, but you soldier on. “I just need an interview with him. I need someone he can trust to set me up with him so he doesn’t give me scripted bullshit, you know? And… If you could be the one to do that, it would make my life a million times easier, honestly.”

For a long moment, Yoongi says nothing, not really looking at you. You don’t know what you said to get this reaction out of him, but you don’t like it, and you’re about to take back your request entirely when he speaks again.

“Okay. I’ll talk to him,” he says. He’s looking at you now, which makes you relax a bit.

“Really?” you ask softly. “Only if you’re okay with it, but it would seriously be a huge help.”

“Yeah, I’ll put in a good word,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. He suddenly seems much less stiff, like whatever weird moment that just took place has passed now, and he laughs. “Just promise you won’t make me regret it.”

At ease, you snort, rolling your eyes. “I promise,” you say flatly, nudging his shoulder with yours. Your voice softens. “Thank you.”

“Sure,” he says easily, getting up from the bed and making his way to the door. “Have you eaten? I’m gonna make kimchijeon.”

Yoongi really is saving your ass. After fucking you so nicely, too. And now he’s making you midnight kimchijeon!

“That sounds good,” you call after him, smiling to yourself after he’s left the room.

Yeah, you can get used to this.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

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[perseephoneee]

Can you do a isaac lahey imagine where the reader us on her period and freaks out and doesn't know what to do so lydia tells him what to do

hehe yes omg

period talk (isaac lahey x f!reader)

warnings: fluff, period talk, dumb boy

a/n: try the drink mentioned if you want to imagine running through hogwarts on a winter day.

↳ masterlist ↳  want to be shipped with a fic character?

Isaac wouldn't admit it, but he loved the cold weather. He liked when the winter season would hit, and holidays were a topic of conversation. Holidays were the only time his Dad treated him like he was actually proud of him, and despite that fucked up relationship, Isaac couldn't help but romanticize the season. It's why, when Beacon Hills hit a new low for the weather, he was excited to see you at school. Perhaps he could even convince you to skip class and get hot coco with him.

Unfortunately for him, your period had started therefore your mood was sour. The cold just added to your discomfort, and you basically hissed at him when he came by your locker.

"Woah, what did I do?" Isaac recoiled, a nervous laugh on his lips. You took a deep breath before turning and facing him.

"Nothing, you did nothing," you sighed. "I'm just...not doing great."

"Whats wrong?" Isaac inquired, brows furrowed and concern evident on his face. You loved your cute werewolf boyfriend, and while he was very helpful, he probably couldn't do much for you right now.

"I'm on my period," you admitted with a twinge of shame. Talking about these things was never fun, even to someone you trusted. A blush coated Isaac's cheeks as he processed what you said.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Should I, uh, do something?" Isaac stammered, hands in his pockets.

"Just be you, I'm a big girl and can handle myself," you chuckled, lightly slapping his arm as you closed your locker and started in the direction of class. Isaac stood in the hallway a moment longer, before deducing a game plan and targeting the area of the school he knew the familiar red head would be. She was typing on her phone when he ran up beside her, backpack slung lazily over his shoulder.

"I need your help," Isaac said hurridly, earning a squeak of surprise form Lydia. She set two angry eyes at him, and he resisted the urge to run away. Women did not like him much today.

"Stop sneaking up on me like that," Lydia rolled her eyes, putting her phone in her purse. "What is it?"

"Y/N is on her period, and I want to help, but I don't know what to do, and you're a girl and you're smart so I thought you'd have some ideas?" Isaac rushed, lips pressed in a thin line as Lydia cocked a brow at him.

"Why do you have to make everything so dramatic?" Lydia huffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. Isaac sent her a look though that showed that he wasn't going to figure anything out, anytime soon. "Look, unless she asks for products, don't bother trying to buy her them-- you'll likely get the wrong ones anyway. Get her her favorite warm drink, a heating pad, blanket, maybe an activity or something calming."

"Drink, heating pad, blanket, activity, got it," Isaac listed out everything, brows scrunched together in concentration. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, during this time, she's always right. Even if you think she isn't, just agree that you're wrong and she's right. Otherwise, she'll claw your eyes out," Lydia crossed her arms, daring Isaac to challenge her. He stayed quiet though, and she loosened up her stance. "I have to go, have fun, don't get killed."

Isaac was never that great at social cues, but he really liked you, and that was enough. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling taking pit in his stomach, he skipped out on school to go get the necessary things Lydia listed. Starting off with a butterbeer chai, a concoction you created (two pumps caramel, two pumps toffee, caramel drizzle, and chai); going to CVS for a heating pad and a blanket; then finally the bookstore down the street where he found a book you wanted (after searching through his phone for fifteen minutes trying to find the text where you mentioned wanting a new release). By the time he had finished his grand adventure, school was out and he would be able to surprise you.

You were having a crappy day with a side of more absolute garbage, so you were very pleasantly surprised when your golden hair boyfriend comes bounding up the street as you exit the school building.

"Woah, where's the fire?" you chuckle. You finally take notice of the bags he's carrying, as well as the drink.

"These are for you," Isaac stutters, passing you the drink. You peer in the bag and can't hide the grin on your face as you take in the plethora of supplies he got. "I know you weren't doing well, and I felt bad, so I got some stuff."

"Isaac, you are the sweetest puppy of a boyfriend a girl could ask for," you smile, wanting nothing more than to pick him up and twirl him around (he is too tall, you are too small). "How did you know what to get?"

"I asked Lydia," he mumbles, staring at his feet. You fight back a chuckle.

"Probably the smartest thing you could've done."

"That was my thought process as well," he chimes, scratching the back of his neck and shooting you a grin. You lean up, kissing him on the corner of his mouth and looping his arm through yours.

"C'mon, lets go hide from the cold together and I'll bitch to you about life," you chime, the cold dusting yours and Isaac's cheeks in shades of pink.

"Sounds perfect, just like you," Isaac smiles, kissing the top of your head as you walk off back home.

[roguerogerss]

Show You How Much I Love You

Pairing: Michael Gray x Reader

W/C: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT!!, the second half is just sex, bit of a praise kink, talk of injuries and blood (not related to the smut!)

Description: After Michael gets shot, you’ve been visiting him in the hospital every day. He has a realisation on his last day there, and when you get home, he shows you how much he’s missed you.

(took a lil break from writing tommy all the time - he will be back! promise! - and did a lil spin for michael. i’ve been OBSESSED with both of them recently. so proud of the smut in this bc it’s literally only my second full on smut!!! let me know what u think babes! b back with tommy shtuff sooooon)

—

You hated the hospital. The building always smelled of antiseptic, slightly bitter, but with the added scent of artificial fragrance contained in soaps and cleaning products. And what was worse, the smell would linger on your clothes and in your hair, even hours after you'd left, and you'd have to bathe after every time you visited, to avoid going to bed smelling like death.

"Morning, Miss L/N." The nurses had gotten to know you over the last five weeks, and they'd always greet you when you came to visit. As much as you hated the hospital, and it's smell, the nurses made your visits very slightly more bareable.

"Good morning, Margaret." You sighed, smoothing your hair down and fixing the fur collar of your coat. "How is he, today?"

"He's had some great news today, ma'am. I think you'll be delighted." Margaret smoothed a hand over your back and then hurried off, the nurses were always on the run. You wondered what news your boyfriend could possibly have gotten that would've delighted you, considering all you'd had the past five weeks was more death, upset, and terrible news.

You climbed the stairs, still fussing over your hair, and your coat, and pulling out a small, pocket mirror to fix your lipstick in. You always ended up going to the hospital dressed like a model, because Michael had told you the first time that seeing you all dressed up had been the only thing he was looking forward to.

You plucked a cigarette from your pocket, and balanced it between your lips as you reached his room, "Miss L/N! No smoking, please! It's not allowed.", You waved the nurse off.

You took a slow drag from your cigarette, filling your lungs, and then pushed the door to Michael's room open. You beamed when you saw him, standing by his bed, something he hadn't done for the entirety of his time in recovery.

He held his arms out when he saw your smile, smiling himself, as though he was presenting a gift to you. "Well?"

"Oh my God, Michael!" You ran for him, giggling as you did, and you were met with a grunt when you dived into his arms. Michael stumbled backwards slightly as he wrapped his arms around you, before regaining his balance. His chest stung in all the places he'd been shot, but he didn't care too much. You looked so happy, something you hadn't been since finding out about the mafia, and he wasn't going to take that away from you.

"Jesus." He laughed at your excitement, "I'm still sore, sweetheart."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, I'm just...You look so much better."

"I feel better. They've been doing physical therapy the past few days, getting me up on my feet, finally got up on my own today."

"Margaret told me you'd had good news, was it this?"

"This, and," He reached behind him and produced a piece of paper from the bedside cabinet. The words "Discharge Notice" were printed in black at the top of the page. "This."

You gasped, "You're getting out? Today?"

"Yes." He nodded, and you clasped a hand over your mouth, ready to squeal with excitement. Michael interrupted, grasping your wrist between his fingers, "But, love, I'd have to stay with you, so it's only if you'll have me. If it'll be too much of a bother, I can stay here-"

"Michael, don't be daft." You moved your hand from your mouth, to press each palm to Michael's cheeks. "Of course I'll have you. It'd be my pleasure."

He sighed and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close, so that your noses were touching. "Are you sure? It's not going to be pretty for the first couple of weeks. Changing bandages, cleaning bullet holes-"

"Michael." You interrupted him quickly, thumb swiping over a small, stitched scar on his cheek. "Of course I'm sure. I mean, it was only a matter of time before we moved in together, anyway, wasn't it? I suppose, it's not under the circumstances we'd like it to have been, but I want to do it."

A comfortable silence fell on the room, Michael was simply smiling, green eyes exploring yours. You ran your fingers over the new scars on his face, and found yourself frowning when you reached a particularly deep one, straight through his eyebrow. He breathed out, "I love you, so much."

You'd never heard anyone say anything with such passion, but Michael had never meant something more in his life. Tommy always spoke about feeling like you'd been pardoned by God when you should've died, and everything else being extra, borrowed time. He didn't think he could live another day without helping you to feel exactly how much you meant to him.

"I love you too, Michael." He was hardly listening to you, just thinking about things he needed to say to you.

"More than anything, you know that, don't you?" He continued. You looked at him, eyes full of concern.

"What's going on?" You were convinced there was something really wrong that he wasn't telling you about.

"Nothing's going on, my love." Michael smoothed your hair down comfortingly, chewing on the side of his lip while he thought about what to say next. "I nearly died, Y/N. I should've died, John did, and he didn't get to tell Esmé that he loved her again. I need you to know what you mean to me. Need you to know how much I love you."

He let his forehead fall against yours, sighed, and squeezed his eyes shut. Tears were threatening to fall, and he knew you'd get upset if you saw him cry. But you'd already sensed he was unsettled, and you pressed your lips to his cheek, and then to his nose, and then to his lips, he loved how loving you were.

"I'm going to show you how much I love you, how much you mean to me. As soon as I can, I'll help you around the house, I'll do everything I can for you." He clasped his hands together at the back of your neck, holding you far enough away that he could really look at you, breaths slightly shaky. "And when I'm better, really better, I mean, I want to marry you."

Your eyes widened, you supposed you might've looked scared to anyone who didn't know you too well. "Michael-"

"I'm serious. If I asked you, right now, to be my wife-"

You shook your head, a grin making it's way onto your face now. "Michael-"

"Will you marry me?" He sounded so serious. You'd spoken about getting married before, and you'd both meant what you'd said, but you hadn't expected he'd ask you so soon. You'd been together just over a year, but you were both still young, and nearly four months of your relationship had just been casual nights together.

"Are you proposing to me?" You were really smiling now. As much as you were young, and as much as you hadn't quite expected this, you were excited. Of course you wanted to marry Michael.

"If that's what you want this to be." He was smiling down at you, grasping both of your hands in his own. He’d have gotten down on one knee if he could’ve, and he felt a slight pang of guilt knowing this wasn’t quite the proposal you’d probably hoped for.

But you didn’t care. Growing up, you’d wanted a big wedding, with a big proposal beforehand, but having someone who you loved as much as you loved Michael, he could’ve proposed to you at a funeral and you’d have said yes. “Well, if that's what's happening, then yes."

"You'll marry me?" The surprise in his voice was completely unmasked. He’d had no idea you’d actually say yes.

"Yes. Yes, Michael, I'll marry you." You felt yourself doing a little jump up and down out of excitement.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious!"

Michael arms were around your waist, now, picking you up from the ground and kissing you, completely ignoring the burn in his chest. Your lips always felt made for eachother when he kissed you, and this time was no different, if not even better. You hadn’t been kissing him half as much as you normally would, what with everything going on, and it almost felt desperate, needy.

"Tomorrow, I'll go out, and I'll buy you a ring, alright? Tommy owes me money, I'll use that to buy you the biggest one I can find." You laughed at Michael's excitement. "But this is official. We're engaged, love."

"We're engaged." You repeated, tears in your eyes, and let Michael take your face in his hands and kiss you again. You couldn't quite believe what had just happened - truth be told, neither could Michael - and you certainly didn't ever expect it to happen in a hospital room, but you were excited nonetheless.

"Come on, I've got all of my things packed, let's go home."

-

As soon as you stepped through the door to your apartment, you were apologising to Michael for the "state of the place". You weren't entirely used to having him round, and so felt you had to explain the little messes that you'd often leave laying around.

"Sorry, it's a bit of a mess. I've not been home too often. And it's not as big as yours, I know-"

Michael stopped you before you rambled on about how the fireplace wasn't lit, and you hadn't washed your dishes from that morning, and how you'd left all of your makeup out on the bathroom vanity because you hadn't time to put it away.

"Stop it." He soothed you, pressing a finger to your lips and looking around at your ground floor flat. It certainly wasn't much, but he actually liked your house better than his own. It was smaller, and therefore cozier, and he found the looks he got from neighbours the morning after you'd slept together funny, knowing they'd heard you screaming his name the night before. "It's perfect."

You smiled, half-heartedly, and gestured to the living room doorway, "Here, you can lay down on the sofa, and I can make some lunch. What would you like? Oh, and when do I have to change your bandages, do you remember?" You swung open the kitchen cabinet, searching through the groceries you'd bought the day before. "I'm not sure what I could make. I can go to the store, I think it should still be open-"

"Love, stop." Michael stepped closer to you, hands settling on each of your shoulders. "Just take a minute, calm down, we've got time."

"I know. I know, I just-"

"Don't." He let a hand slip down your arm and into your own, "You've said yes to marrying me today, I'm very much happy dealing with your unwashed dishes, and you can make me lunch any time, now, okay? I'm here to stay."

"Come on, fiancé." Michael grinned at you. "Lay with me, please? Missed you."

You sighed, and turned to close the cabinet door behind you. You were quick to stress yourself out, and normally you'd argue that you couldn't just lay down and forget about the things you needed to do, but you'd missed him too. "Okay."

Michael led you down the hallway and into your bedroom, he'd been here before, but you'd spend most of your time together at his house or at the office, so it felt strange having him in your bedroom. He was one to make himself at home, and today was no different. As soon as he reached your bed, the shirt that he was wearing was unbuttoned and on the floor, and he was sprawled out on top of the sheets, gesturing for you to join him.

You tried to lay down next to him, but he had other plans, hands reaching out to grip your hips and pull you on top of him, one knee on either side of his torso. "Michael!" You giggled.

"Oh, come on. I haven't had any time alone with you in over a month." His hands started to make their way under your dress, and you almost let him, until you snapped back to reality and noticed the bandage wrapped around his body.

"I know." You wanted to, you really wanted to, but you found yourself smacking his hand away before he was able to get past your thigh. "But you're still recovering."

"I'm fit enough." He raised an eyebrow at you, and you were certainly considering it. He could definitely be very convincing, when he wanted to.

"Are you sure?" You stuck your bottom lip out, pouting at him.

"I'm sure, baby." His hands found their way to your waist, and he was looking up at you with what you could only describe as hunger in his eyes, jaw clenched. He made it so hard for you to say no. "Come on, let me prove it to you. Let me show you how much I love you.”

"I don't know, Michael-"

"Please, sweetheart." He interrupted you, "Missed your body. Been so desperate for you."

Hearing him say he was desperate for you had a knot growing in your stomach. You sighed, weighing up the options you had, but ultimately deciding that you'd both be unable to think about anything else if you didn't have sex.

"Okay. Alright, but if you feel like you need to stop, you stop. Okay?"

"I will. Thank you, darling." You could feel him hardening through his trousers, and it had you biting down hard on your lips, having been waiting for this moment to come since he could sit up straight. He'd teased you while in the hospital, talked dirty, touched you every now and again, but it was hard to find a time when a nurse wasn't going to walk in and scold him for being too active, and Polly wasn't going to come in for a visit. "Now, come here."

He pushed himself up, back against the headboard, and dipped his head to connect your lips. It was fast, rough, a clash of teeth and tongue and lips, he'd missed you, and you were making it clear that you'd thought about him for the entire time he'd been in the hospital.

His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer so that you were chest to chest. He could feel his wounds burning when your torso collided with his, but the taste of your lips on his and the feeling of having you so close again quickly dissolved any discomfort he felt.

He was so needy for you, hips bucking upwards to meet yours, hands sliding down to grip your hips, you thought it was the hottest you'd ever seen him. "Fuck, Michael." You gasped out as his lips found your neck, head falling back.

He groaned at the sound of you moaning for him, he'd been waiting to touch you for so long. "Need you, pretty girl. We've got plenty of time for other things later, but I need to be inside you right now."

You didn't need to say another word, you simply nodded and helped him to unbuckle his belt while you hiked your dress up above your waist. His fingers grazed over your lingerie, and you mewled, the feeling almost too much. "Jesus, baby, you're so wet already. Haven't even done anything yet."

"Missed you so much, Michael." You breathed out, an answer to his statement, and simply a statement in itself.

"Missed you too, princess." You loved when he called you pet names.

You watched as he freed himself from his underwear, and his cock sprung up, hard and ready for you. "You're hard already." You mocked his words, and he laughed.

Neither of you wasted any time with foreplay, your panties were ripped off and on the floor with one flick of Michael's wrist, and he was lifting you off of him slightly, and guiding you back down onto his cock.

The feeling of him sliding into you again was euphoric for both of you. You hadn't had sex in more than a month, as opposed to usually being borderline sex addicts, and you knew you wouldn't last long.

You both let out pornographic moans as he bottomed out, Michael's face said it all. His mouth hung open, eyebrows knitted together, eyes wide, you were so tight, he could've came at the feeling of his cock stretching you out.

"Fuck, not gonna last long, honey." His forehead fell against yours and he screwed his eyes shut, just revelling in how good you felt around him. "Are you alright?" He asked, hand holding and stroking your waist lovingly. He was big, and you were so used to him before that you hardly needed any time to adjust, but with being away from eachother for so long, he was almost too much to handle.

"I'm okay. Give me a second. Feel so full." You were breathing heavily, shifting around. It wasn't uncomfortable as such, just a lot to take.

Michael ran his fingers through your hair, soothing you and pressing kisses to your forehead. "Taking me so well, baby. Just take your time."

"Fuck," You moaned, you loved when he was sweet to you in bed. You'd told him months ago that you thought it might've been your biggest turn on. "You can move."

Michael looked up at you, just for an extra check that you were truly alright, and, upon finding no sign that you weren't, bucked his hips up to meet yours. You almost screamed, he knew exactly what spots to hit, and he did every time without fail.

You bounced on him, his hands helping you, lifting you off of him and bringing you straight back down at new angles every time. "You feel so good, Mike."

"Fuck, good girl. That's a good girl." Michael let his forehead drop onto your collarbone, watching your tits bounce up and down. You were so beautiful, he often wondered how he'd gotten so lucky. "Tell me how good I'm making you feel."

"So, so good. Missed your cock so much. Love it so much." Your words were slightly slurred, eyes starting to droop. He loved watching you, how much of a mess you'd get, just from riding his cock.

His hands found your tits, massaging them and twisting your nipples, which always had you screaming for him, and today was no different. "Feel good?"

"Feels fucking amazing." He thrust into you at just the right angle, which had you gasping and digging your nails into his back, leaving little red half moons on his shoulder blades. "Oh, right there, Mike.”

"Shit, baby, are you close?" You were clenching around him so tightly, "Can feel it, you're close."

"I'm so close." You moaned, you were certain your upstairs neighbours would hear you, the walls and ceilings were thin, and Michael was making you yell out in pleasure.

"Me too. Almost there, sweetheart. Hang on for me." He increased his speed, making it even harder for you to hold on, and making your moans fall from your lips even louder than before.

"I don't think I can, Mike." Your legs were shaking like crazy, and you could feel his dick tensing inside of you. You needed to come so badly.

"I said hold on. You can hold it." His face was stern as he said it, dominant side coming out as he grabbed your hips and slammed you down onto him, bucking his hips at the same time. He was going to make this so good for you.

"Fuck, Michael, please." You threw your head back. You felt his cock twitch, and a loud moan come from him, he was going to come.

"Alright, baby, come. Come with me."

Your throat was hoarse from moaning as loudly as you were, but it didn't stop you from screaming his name as your walls tightened around him and you came undone. The feeling of his cum painting your insides never got old, always made you feel like you could go at least another few rounds.

"Oh my God." You panted, collapsing onto his chest as he lay back on the bed. You both lay there, breathing heavily, sweaty messes, for a few minutes. You didn't think you could move very far, your legs were shaking against him.

"Jesus, have I missed this." Michael kissed the top of your head through quick, harsh breaths.

"I've missed this so much." You agreed, heart pounding.

You lifted your head, just enough to see that there were a few speckles of blood seeping through the bandage that was wrapped around his torso. "You're bleeding, baby. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." He nodded, and reached over to your bedside cabinet to grab the small alarm clock that sat there. It read two o’clock. Michael grinned at you.

"Time to change the bandages."

[imaginespazzi]

NIVI!! Give us your postgame thoughts on Ole Miss!!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING MY LOVIES! I am thankful for that fact that I found a stream that worked last night and got to watch this game even though that 3rd quarter took years off of my life.

AZZI. FUDD. I don't think I can even begin to explain in words just how proud I am of her. Everyone has been saying that it's only a matter of time before Azzi starts to contribute (not that she didn't contribute in the Oregon State game) but Azzi didn't just contribute last night; was definitely the biggest (not the only of course) reason we won. It was a one-possession game and momentum was without a doubt on Ole Miss's side and Azzi said fuck all of that and gave UConn an 8-pt cushion all by herself. And what won't reflect on the box-score is that her scoring those points did two things: it deflated Ole Miss and it energized UConn. She was just so good offensively and defensively; just an all-around performance and I'm just so incredibly proud. And you know what the best part is? Those 3s ain't even falling yet.

Casual 29 points for the NPOY, no biggie just Paige doing Paige things except you know MY Paige doesn't normally get 5 turnovers...jk jk because honestly she only should have had 3 (still "high" for her standard but also that's what Ole Miss hangs their hat on). That 1st half and that 4th quarter were just things of beauty. That's what you need your leader to do, set the tone and then finish things off. AND SHE FINALLY GOT SOME FTS!!

Sarah looked really good in the first half and then when Ole Miss got going, she looked a little shaken in the second half, emphasis on the little shaken because it was only really in terms of scoring, she was still doing all the little things. I've seen some discourse and I personally don't want Sarah to stop taking 3s because it's not like she takes bad ones and I think they're gonna fall and we need them to fall and they're not gonna fall if she stops taking them.

JANA!! She had some clutch has hell rebounds and some much-needed shots. I thought she had a really good game and a near double-double. She just looked really energized out there and I think she's only going to get better.

Ice had a up and down game. She definitely did a couple of things that frustrated me but also made some solid plays. I would have definitely liked a couple more points and a couple more rebounds but I think the hustle, that's been prevalent the last few games, is still there.

Ash needed more shots which is partially on her but also I feel like she was getting plays ran for AND her teammates weren't doing the best job of finding her. It feels like the aggression, particularly on offense, of the first two games had dwindled a little bit and she's in a bit of a slump. Also two of Paige's 5 turnovers, probably belong to her because girl what was you doing?

We definitely need more point production from KC but I thought she had a very stabilizing presence last night and did a pretty good job running the offense in the 4th.

KK hadn't made me want to scream at her for driving into traffic and getting blocked like clockwork in a couple of games and so of course OF COURSE she had to do it last night. But I do think she matched Ole Miss's energy well and I liked that one drive she had. She needs to look to score like that more.

Which brings me back to that KC-KK discourse, I still think the KK-Paige-Azzi-Sarah-Jana/Ice lineup is our strongest but I also did really like the KC-Paige-Azzi-Sarah-Jana that we used to end the game and was I believe the prominent lineup throughout the 2nd half. So I think my general opinion is that it doesn't matter who starts because ultimately it's gonna be a opponent-driven decision and it's good to have that option.

I love Paige and Azzi and I love that they had good games but I'm ngl, looking at that box score and seeing so many people with only 2 pts did not please me at all.

Blowing leads is becoming a recurring thing and as much as I think it's good character building for this team right now because as Geno says you learn more from overcoming the Ole Miss run than if you had stretched it 30, it is a little concerning that it's a bit of a pattern. And again this is only their 5th game and it was their first true test and also ofc only their 3rd having Azzi so I'm not necessarily super worried, but it is something I'mma keep my eye on.

But overall I'm just really proud of this team. They got punched in the 3rd and they punched back and I'm hoping to see a lot more punching in the upcoming games.

[skitariiposting]

Skit's Mini Painting Journey Pt. 3

The Admech one.

C'mon, you all saw this one coming.

Back when I was painting my nurgles purple, I wanted to do a similar color scheme for my Admech army. I slowly moved away from it however, as I didn't quite like the way it turned out. The green and purple look took to Nurgle well, but purple Admech on desert planets didn't make a whole lot of sense. Didn't stop me from trying though, and while they certainly didn't look bad, I'm glad I didn't stick with it.

The Mars Pattern Family

This little fella may look familiar! Here was my first attempt at a more traditional mars pattern skit, and a jawa-esque one to boot! This was a kitbash of a proper galvanic rifle and backpack being added to The Makers Cult's Lil' Recruit.

I mean, Jawa admech is so amazing, but I had to have my little guy properly equipped!

Continuing the Mars linage is a technopriest and engiseer, both TMC printed minis. I love the way these two look. The face-shield on the technopriest looks amazing, and I'm incredibly proud of the reflection on it. The OSL on the hand isn't very visible in the picture, but it also looks really good.

This Thallax bot was supposed to be a Kastellan Bot for @elnubnub, however I got the two mixed up and picked the smaller one. I'm going to eventually remedy that, but he still looks good nonetheless.

This is by and large one of my best pieces in my opinion. Back when @cannibalcaprine had a bird face, this model was more applicable. Dominus Hera has so much soul and time put into her I don't know if I'll ever be able to replicate the state of mind I was in that let me get this mini to look this good. The cloth effects are fantastic, the OSL from the gun is fantastic, the molten axe is fantastic, the color choices and layout is fantastic, the cables are fantastic; I don't know who painted this mini, but it certainly wasn't me. It couldn't have been.

And the most important member of the Mars Pattern Family, the fan favorite: Goober. A kitbash gone wrong gone right. A broken mini finally becoming whole. The legend himself. What more is there to say?

Finally: The Submechanicum

Penelope, the Ocean Queen. My first model I painted for the Submechanicus. I'd love to say that this is my magnum opus, considering I made a whole video about her and everything...

However, I must rip the band aid off and say that this is the first version of Penelope...

Because what immediately followed her was this beast. This is the Krabaphron, another contender for one of my best models. This sucker was so genre defining, that it set a new standard for the rest of my Submechanicus army and would cause me to re-do my color-scheme and paint job planning going forward.

I based all of my future Submechanicus models off of it, using it as a template. The Skits and Techpriest both got the same treatment and I've got to say, I'm in love with the way it looks. I've continued using this style so far and I haven't had to make many modifications.

As such, Penelope... didn't quite fit the bill anymore. She stood out from the rest of the models.

So... after a livestream of planning and base layering...

She was finally given the paint job she deserved.

And that's just were our story begins fair traveler... With the rise of the Depth Guard, a proper protector of the Submechanicus will be needed to combat the forces of Nurgle... And coming late April, there will be such a machine surfacing, with a video to present it.

Of course, this is quite an older photo. It's far more painted than that. I've teased photos of it so far, however I'm saving the proper display of it for the video, so be on the look out if you want to see the completed product!

And that's about it! Hope you've enjoyed this little walk down memory lane and gallery of my mini painting endeavors! I'll be making a website for easier viewing once I've gone through and gotten some more professional looking pictures done. Thank you for reading and viewing!

-Jerry

[live-laugh-lenney]

Imagine baby Clarke coming to visit george on his tour, would defo be either a london show or Bristol, baby girl would be so confused but happy to see her daddy either way ❤️❤️❤️😭😭

pleeeeeeease, that's adorable!!

before the show, george can't put her down.

with george and max travelling for two weeks, all around the country, they deemed it unfair to make their little lady travel long distances to be able to be with and see her daddy everyday... so they decided that yn and baby girl clarkey would come and attend the most important show - the final london date in may.

he walks around backstage with her on his hip, showing her off to all his production crew, disappearing out on stage to show her just what daddy did when he wasn't at home, as yn stays in the dressing room with max and andrew and the two arthur's and he really takes in the moment before him. the empty shepherds bush venue, the set-up for their last show for the podcast tour, the way that the silence would soon before filled with the cheers and the screams of those that were excited to come and see him and his best friend waffle nonsense on stage for over an hour.

"you've been very quiet today."

he turns on his heels and looks into the wings of the stage, seeing his girlfriend stood with her very own useless hotline t-shirt tucked into her ripped jeans, a grin on his lips.

"i'm just feeling very happy today," he says, adjusting his daughter on his hip as she plays with the chain of his necklace hanging around his neck, "the last sold out show, the last night, and i've got all the best people in my life here tonight. my best friends, my girlfriend and my baby."

"you're not going to cry, are you? because i'm still an emotional wreck from having our little one so you need to pre-warn me if there will be any tears. she may be almost one but i'm still such a huge hormonal monster inside," she laughs softly, wrapping her arm around his waist and squeezing him against her side, "you deserve all of this, george. i'm so proud of you."

"it feels so surreal, still," he wraps his free arm around her shoulders and presses a kiss to her forehead, "thank you for being here tonight. i know it's tough with the little one and all."

"we wouldn't miss it for the world," she tells him and he can't wipe the silly grin on his face, "we'll be sat backstage, waiting for you to come back, so we can all celebrate for a bit. i'm guessing you're out after the show tonight?"

he nods.

"max has booked out a club for us. you sure you don't want to get a babysitter and come along?"

yn shakes her head and pinches her little girl's cheek, "you deserve to celebrate tonight, okay? i'll wait up for you though, in case you need some assistance up those stairs."

he chuckles softly and shakes his head. there's commotion that went on behind them as the crew continued setting up the stage, adding the finishing touches to everything before the show went ahead, and it felt like their moment to start moving backstage so they had the room to carry on. walking slowly back to the dressing room, greeting people on the way back, entering the room to see everyone tucking in to some pre-show pizza that had been brought in.

"pizza for everyone," max grins widely as he held a crust to a pizza slice in his hand, tomato sauce smeared around his lips and across his teeth, "grab it before the human dustbin grabs some."

he looks at george with a smirk and all george can do is rolls his eyes back at him, "i am not a dustbin. i just really love pizza, okay? and yn knows that already, idiot."

baby clarke gets a little agitated when george says goodbye and does a little wave in her direction, pressing a kiss to her forehead before a kiss is placed on yn's lips, and she cries for just a moment until arthur (frederick) takes her from yn, to which she passes her over, and gives her a little cuddle to fill in the void of missing her dad.

"come to your funcle, baby clarkey," he grins widely, setting her on his hip and forgetting the plastic cup full of his alcoholic beverage, "shall we go watch daddy from the side of the stage?"

"please be careful with her, okay?" yn warns him gently and arthur smiles softly, lifting up baby clarkey's fist and waving in yn's direction, "you're an idiot."

"i promise i'll bring her back soon, yn. she'll be okay with me," arthur promises and yn smiles softly, settling herself in the chair that was once george's as he got himself ready for the night, her eyes looking up at the television screen that showed what was happening out on the stage, "back before the interval, you have my word."

and once the show had ended, and arthur's performing his two songs to close out the night for everyone, yn joins them on stage with baby clarkey on her hip as they dance along to the music. joe is out on the stage first, followed by andrew, and arthur's a little reluctant to show his face out there until yn agrees to follow him out and he follows her close behind.

and as soon as george sees them, he's reaching for his little girl so he can have a little dance and a boogie with her, which leaves yn with max and andrew as arthur blasts his lungs out with his new song. and baby clarke loves every second of the time on stage; giggling, waving at people as george shows her what to do, kicking her legs out and it makes people in the audience absolutely adore the moment. xx

[missedmilemarkers]

Hi again!! Figured that since you were technically open to any question, I want to hear your thoughts or views on this. I'm not sure if I could message you (because I'm very awkward and I can't exactly hold a conversation based on small topics) But, how do you feel about choosing something practically over passion? This question has always plagued me ever since it was brought up during class, and it provoked to me how practically was always chosen over passion as it would technically "help" them more than pursuing their passion.

Was choosing tech for you a more practical choice or were you passionate about it? I don't want to sound rude over this question, but it only occurred to me when you mentioned that you were working in a field that is quite more on the technical side. Do you see it as something similar to an art form as you develop products that could help improve lives tremendously? Or is it just a job that you expect to pay good?

(P.S Sharing these photos I took some time ago, I believe it was last year and it was submitted for a class. Hope you enjoy them as well! Not as much sun as the last one though)

First off. Before going into any of the content of this post. THAT GIANT SNAIL IS SOO COOL! I just recently found out that they exist and was just amazed by the size of them. GREAT PICTURE!!!

Alright lets unpack the content of this ask.

TLDR:

You got this I believe in you. Stand tall and proud and go for whatever your heart and head want. If they disagree pick one and evaluate later. Even if your heart and head dont know that is OK as the story of your life unfolds the path will become clear. If you are honest you can always move with confidence and never lose a moment of sleep.

I am choosing to dive deep into this again for a few different reasons. The reason I am doing this you are at a moment in time which you perceive to be important (final exams, deciding about life etc etc etc). The unfortunate thing is this moment is no more important then any other you will experience. All it is would nothing more then a "MileMarker" which you will use for evaluation later in life. That does not mean its not important. All that means is every decision you made every action you took got you to the moment you are in RIGHT NOW. So dont worry no matter your choice you will always make the right decision. Even if its wrong you will always gain insight and that insight will always lead to success if passion is applied.

how do you feel about choosing something practically over passion?

I am not sure if there is exactly a correct answer for this one. If there is I think the best one would be do whatever makes you happy, and the only way to find out what makes you happy is to try. One thing I have learned is sometimes money or love is not enough. One can have all the money in the world and be miserable. Same goes for love. One could be loved by the world and be empty inside. That answer is kind of B.S. for someone that is seeking input. With that being said I will go over some of my experiences. My very first job was at an auto mechanic shop. I used to love working on cars. I would spend my weekends doing it. I would hang out with my friends and all have a great time. So i figured it would be a good choice to work as a mechanic. So I went and got that job. I worked it for about 5 years. At the end of it I never wanted to work on cars again. To this day I will not even change my own oil because I hate it so much. Am I upset it turned out that way? Not at all. Life is all about the experience nothing more nothing less. That lesson for me was finding out what I did not like in life and was just as important in my journey as knowing what I liked. At the end of my mechanic experience I figured I should just go be a garbage man. I would get the same blue jump suit but instead of the trash coming to me I would go to the trash. Really all we can do is to try. There is no wrong answer. Even if one makes a choice and find out its wrong for you that is OK.

Was choosing tech for you a more practical choice or were you passionate about it? "Neither and both"

The reason I brought up the above being a mechanic. If i did not want the same thing to happen on my outlook of computers as it did for mechanics. It was because of this I did not get into tech. I loved it so much I did not want to risk ever hating it. So that is passion but born of practicality based on what is important to me and only me. This is was dictated by my previous experiences and not wanting to have any regret in life. More on this: I have always been interested in computers and tech. I grew up in a very poor household. We only ever had exactly what we needed and nothing more. My childhood was amazing. Yea at the time I wanted more but after I got older and realized how the world was I landed on the outlook of "I could not have asked for more and it was amazing even though it was viewed bad at the time". One of my best friends growing up his family was very rich. It was through him that I was able to get access to technology. From that my obsession was born. I loved tech so much I avoided it professionally because i did not want the same thing to happen as did with mechanics. Then one day just purely by happenstance a neighbor offered me a job. I decided at that moment you know what try it. Why not, I now knew the signs of when i might start to hate it. so why not. We can never have any form of regret. So at that first job I literally ran around a call center unplugging and plugging back in headsets. Was this something that made a difference in this world. No, was it something that I found great internal satisfaction. No. At this point did it provide me financial security. NO IT SURE DID NOT! It was until many years went by to get a chance to shine. When that moment came I was ready and I crushed it. From that moment it was all different. I gained both functional and passion in my career with huge paychecks. But you know what, none of that matters now. The only thing it provides is a story for others of my personal experience. None of it means anything right now and clearly I cannot seem to pay the bills. That is ok. I would not change my situation, the outcomes, my choices or or any aspect of how i got to this moment right now. As long as I continue to try, learn and adapt I will find my way. However none of that will happen if I never take steps on my own and try with every fiber of my being each day.

how practically was always chosen over passion as it would technically "help" them more than pursuing their passion.

Based on that statement I feel how you are looking at this in the wrong context. That statement is taken from the third person. You need to have it worded something more like this. how practically was always chosen over passion as it would technically "help" me more than pursuing my passion. The context of that change is huge. Lets take a moment and reflect on that. I bring special attention to this because 1. We can never know what is best for any other person. Its hard enough knowing what is best for ourselves. Its ok to use other peoples stories and experiences as guidance in our own actions and decisions. It should never be our place to dictate what is best for another. We can never know that persons experiences, thoughts, emotions or context. We can offer guidance and feel happy we had an opportunity to share. 2. This now forces an action from the third person to a first person. This logic dictates something must happen. Even non action is an action and should be evaluated later and potentially adjusted. Sometimes non action is the best action. Often times its not though. Its all about that re-evaluation. 3. Experience is the most important thing in life. If you are struck in any form of "I wish I could...", "I always wanted to...", "Why cant i just...", "I don't know what ...". The only way to fix that is to do anything different. If you are frozen in a conversation start with one single word "Hello". If you are struck with any form of indecision just make one that is easier and more open ended. Instead of "I will make a final decision by", change it to "I try to evaluate my choices on", then take some time do a proper evaluation. Ok i wanted to try but i was unable to do that. Its ok that happened what can I do differently to "try anything else" and step with confidence in whatever choice you make. Even if its wrong there is never any regret because you made the best decision for you at the moment. Changing the view from "Observer" to "Doer" is what this context change provides. When an honest action is taken you can always do it with confidence no matter what it is. to Your final question. Money is a sign of a job well done. If you enjoy what you do you never work a day in your life.

In final thoughts: Tomorrow will never come and yesterday is just a story that only you care about. People might want specific things for you but none of that matters. Anyone who truly cares will want your happiness above all else. If that person cant understand that then they are probably not the best person to spend your time with. If you are living in the past you are depressed. If you are living in the future you are anxious. Its all about right now nothing more nothing less. Just smile, be confident and just do what is best for you and no one else. No decisions are final, you are free to change your mind at any time. Its ok not to know. We can never know the story of life through any other way then just living it how we choose. If future you is worried (anxious). Then present you should do something to set that person which don't know but implicitly care about up for whatever that success is defined as such by you. If past you is upset (depressed) about something then future you (currently present) can do something about it and make a change. Even if that change is wrong you can tell past you (depressed) that you tried and ask that person for advise and make adjustments accordingly. As long as you try you will always get exactly what you need. Survival is a very strange thing like that. It always is right up until it is not. The moments of survival in most cases outnumber the moments of conclusion. So dont ever worry the statistics are on your side.

Time is the only thing we never get back. I choose to spend my time happy. My personal definition of happiness has changed many times throughout life (story). Money will come for me as a result of that. So far it has worked out for me. To date I have survived (lived) far more moments then i have concluded (died). The same thing can be said about anyone reading this.

Conclusion: Each time i chose based on passion, One time I lost a passion. The other time I did not. Each time I was able to survive. Each time i gained valuable experience and understanding of who I was. I always succeed because I will always try hard and hopefully learn from my mistakes just enough to be good. I want to be happy in life and If at any moment I am not that is my measuring stick to make some kind of change.

Much like the seasons change is forced.

But we will always find the beauty of tomorrow. Even though we might have suffered a broken arm.

[yourdailyangel]

Okay okay kinda sad but how would astarion be with a heavy pregnant s/o? I’ve been trying to have a baby for 2 years now and unfortunately I’m struggling so I need the comfort I understand if you don’t want to write it but thanks all the same

This is a serious request so first off if pregnancy or children make you uncomfortable OR if you do NOT agree then please keep scrolling❤️ on my page we support EVERYONE so please be kind! Secondly I'm so sorry you're struggling but your very strong and I hope you finally have a healthy baby!! Okay so onto the ask!

(NOTE: Yes I am aware I wrote something similar but this is a different case❤️)

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

°As I said before astarion is VERY attentive and protective while your pregnant (before and after)

°but as the months go by your bundle of joy grows!

°He loves feeling the baby kick!

°also will NOT allow you to do any super straining!

°He won't tell you what to do but as the pregnancy goes farther along he'll expect you to rest a bit more!

°Speaking of resting... NO MORE SUPER DUPER LONG ROAD TRIPS Y/N!!!

°Astarion would prefer if you and the group stayed around the bigger towns and cities!

°Will definitely throw the grandest most biggest gender reveal part EVER!

°he really won't care what the baby's gender is as long as they're healthy and you are healthy!

°Sometimes in bed he'll hum a soft lullaby to the baby, saying how proud he is and how excited he is!

°You can't help but giggle it's cute!

°Also do expect the baby to have THE FINEST OF CLOTHES!!

°Now as for actually giving birth.

°Even if the whole group is there, astarion stays by your side!

°He'll hold your hand and tell you how proud he is and how beautiful you look!

°Once the baby is born he'll make sure you have everything you need! Holding the baby gently in his arms!

°That baby now has the most productive father in the world!

°You get extra extra extra extra EXTRAAAA pampered y/n!

°Your physical and mental health has the very best looking at for it!

°Astarion changes a lot once the baby is born! In a good way of course!

°He tries to be gentle with people and welcoming (be patient though this will take work)

[laxmiree]

[CN] MLQC’s Lucien Sharing Date English Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT!! ⚠️

This post contains a detailed spoiler for a date that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

Perhaps it's an illusion, but after he removes his glasses, those eyes that have always been looking at me seem even deeper.

With my soft exclamation, the already close distance becomes even more intimate, not leaving any gap.

His lowered lashes tremble lightly, brushing against my cheeks like butterfly wings.

His hot breath lingers on the corner of my lips for a while before finally enveloping it eagerly.

special thanks to ivi (@ivioivioivi on twitter) for helping me with translating some abstract things here 🫶

✂———————–

—[Part 1]—

The lecture hall is almost full, filled with students from the Film and Television Department of Loveland University.

Due to my previous programs consistently ranking first in viewership, universities' Film and Television Department often use them as case studies.

However, it's the first time today that both the production team and I have been invited to campus to give a sharing session.

Even though I've attended many events and ceremonies, as a behind-the-scenes person, I still feel a bit nervous under so many attentive gazes.

MC: Hello students, I'm MC.

Noticing a subtle unease in my tone, I can't help but recall the solemn vow that I made last night.

—[Flashback Start]—

MC: As long as I step onto the same podium where Professor Lucien once stood, I'll surely have the same demeanor as you!

Seeing me confidently waving the speech notes, Lucien couldn't help but chuckle.

Lucien: I'm curious, in your eyes, what kind of demeanor do I have?

MC: Of course you're someone who is both patient and effortlessly competent, and able to make complex concepts lively and engaging. In short, you're simply the best teacher in the world!

He gently gazed at me for a moment and then pulled me into his arms.

Lucien: [chuckles] If this biased classmate really were my student, my evaluations would probably become the highest in the whole school.

MC: What! The original highest score wasn't yours?

My exaggerated tone amused him, and Lucien rubbed my hair.

Lucien: If the Great Producer keeps showering me with praise like this, I might not be able to resist feeling proud.

Lucien: After the poster for the sharing session was put up, many colleagues came to greet me because of this outstanding family member*.

(T/N: his colleagues refer to MC as XM/Lucien's family🥺)

MC: So it seems that the reason I agreed at that time was very correct~

Facing his curious gaze, I winked at him.

MC: Because that was the invitation sent by your school.

—[Flashback Ends]—

Looking down at the audience below once more, I steady my mind.

Just as I'm about to speak, I hear a familiar voice.

??: Sorry, teacher, I'm late. Can I still come in and listen now?

MC: Of course—

Unwittingly, I glance towards the classroom door, my eyes widen in surprise when I see Lucien.

The classroom buzzes with murmurs, as the students have also recognized him.

Lucien: Thank you, teacher. Sorry to interrupt everyone.

I stare dumbfoundedly as he approaches and calmly places a piece of paper on the podium.

Lucien: My late slip.

MC: Ah, okay…

Not until he steps down to find an empty seat do I notice that the completely blank late slip is covered with a sticky note-

-filled with a drawing of a little rabbit on the lectern talking eloquently, and in the audience seat, a little fox applauds with a smile on his eyes.

I can't help but look up at him, seeing that he has already found a seat and is quietly gazing at me.

The distance between us isn't close, but his gaze has already dispelled most of my unease.

So I collected myself and took out my speech notes.

MC: I originally wanted to chat with everyone, but our department head wouldn't allow it, so I had to prepare a speech.

A wave of friendly laughter ripples through the audience, completely easing my nerves.

Very soon, I smoothly finished speaking according to the notes.

MC: ...Actually, the birth of every successful case is influenced by many uncontrollable variables.

MC: Even if we as creators replicate the so-called “speak from experience”, it may not necessarily generate new successful cases.

MC: In the end, I think sharing some practical insights is better.

MC: I often feel that filming is similar to life, it's a process of establishing a stable relationship with the world.

MC: And some specific yet small orders will bring us a sense of certainty about life and becoming an important part of life.

MC: If you don't know what to shoot, you can look within your own world.

MC: Taking myself as an example, like... the flower shop that opens at 8 a.m. near my home. And also...

As I speak, I look at the audience, meeting head-on the gaze that has never shifted.

There is an itch in my heart, always wanting to express something. Before I know it, I've already put down the speech notes--

MC: [smiling softly] The light from my neighbor's house next door often stays on until 4 a.m.

✂———————–

—[Part 2]—

Amidst the continuous applause, Lucien beamingly applauds, bearing a striking resemblance to the little fox on the sticky note.

At this moment, the dean beside me suddenly leans in, lowering their voice as they speak.

Dean: MC, you delivered your speech too smoothly. Here's the bad news: there are still 20 minutes left before class ends.

MC: [sweating nervously] Ah? What should I do? Do you have anything else you want to say?

Seeing him shake his head, my brain starts to work at lightning speed, and suddenly, I think of something.

MC: Since we're out of things to say, we'll just have to let the students speak.

The next moment, a student stood up bewildered as we called their name.

Dean: Everyone, feel free to express your thoughts. Share your feelings after attending the sharing session.

Student A: Oh! I found Teacher MC's talk very interesting. I've also been pondering about some small "orders" just now.

Student A: Like the video call my mom makes every night and the taro ice cream that the school convenience store restocks every Thursday afternoon at three.

Laughter instantly fills the room, as if this were a well-known understanding among everyone.

Immediately, several students also raise their hands, eager to join the conversation.

Student B: When spring arrives, the peach blossoms on the campus will bloom the earliest.

Student C: There's an old librarian who likes to blow his beard, it turns out he's stuck on sudoku.

This time, everyone fell silent for a moment, emitting small gasps of surprise.

Student C: Because of the old man's habit of blowing his beard, I made a documentary about him... but the film lacked soul.

Student C: So I want to ask, how do you find something worth expressing?

I think for a moment before speaking earnestly.

MC: The best way I can think of is to ask yourself what you most want to express from your heart.

MC: Once you have the answer, you will discover that it may have just been sustaining the order you rely on the most to survive right now.*

MC: It's also the closest connection between you and this world—

MC: At that moment, many natural words or images will appear before you effortlessly.

(T/N: tbh it's really abstract even in CN LOL, but I take from it that perhaps what you want to express is already on the orders in your life all along? Keep this in mind until the last part)

I instinctively glance at Lucien and notice the corners of his eyes slowly curving.

Student C: Can you give an example?

MC: Um?

Perhaps the answer was too clear before my eyes, and in that moment, I hesitated instead.

As I realize, I've already missed the opportune moment for the best response, and I can't help but feel a bit embarrassed.

And the person in my line of sight seems to have chuckled, raising his hand.

Lucien: I'd like to share something too.

As soon as these words were spoken, students turned their curious gazes towards him, and I also waited nervously for his speech.

Lucien: I feel that, often, before finding the expression, perhaps it's the order itself that takes precedence in life.

Lucien: After you become aware of it, it has already brought about natural habits and rules.

Lucien: Therefore, for me, perhaps the modification and alteration of the order itself appear to be more special. The things born from it make people want to dig and explore deeper.

Lucien: For example, the hot milk that always appears when I write a paper, or the scolding I received for not sleeping, which seems to have started at some unknown point…

Even as I try to control my expression, I still feel my cheeks getting a little warm.

The instigator, however, seemed oblivious to my shyness, unabashedly casting an eager gaze my way.

Lucien: Teacher MC, if all the orders of life point to one person at the same time, then wouldn't her existence—

Lucien: Be tantamount to the closest connection between me and this world?

✂———————–

—[Part 3]—

The meeting ends, and after saying goodbye to my colleagues, I decide to take a walk around campus with Lucien.

I'm still immersed in the confession that only we knew a moment ago. Even my steps feel a bit light.

Lucien: You seem to have more talent for being a teacher than I imagined.

Lucien: If I had a teacher like you when I was studying, I would definitely sit in the front row every class.

Lucien: Would this teacher choose me as the class representative?

As he speaks seriously, I pretend to consider.

MC: Hmm... I'll think about it.

He nods thoughtfully, but a smile slowly appears in his eyes.

Lucien: So, to become the class representative, it seems I need to pay more attention to the teacher.

Lucien: [teasingly] Your face seems to have been flushed since I raised my hand to answer the question. Are you feeling uncomfortable?

Colliding with his narrowed smiling eyes, I blush and playfully poke his arm.

MC: Lucien!

Lucien: [chuckles] It seems that the teacher has already remembered my name.

Seeing his pretending-to-be-serious expression, I can't help but laugh.

Lucien: Moreover, it seems you set an example for me first.

I raise my puzzled gaze, then collide with his slightly teasing smiling eyes.

Lucien: After all, it was teacher MC who mentioned me first.

Lucien: It appears that I didn't realize I had become part of your order so long ago.

MC: ….!

I belatedly react, embarrassedly wanting to reach out and cover his mouth.

He chuckles softly and catches my hand, squeezing it into his palm.

Hand in hand, we walk through the campus, bathed in the gentle light filtering through the trees, softly resting upon us.

Occasionally, students pass by us, heading in the same direction.

The moment I curiously glance in that direction, he already grasps my hand, leading me towards it knowingly.

Ten minutes later, standing at the entrance of the convenience store, we look at the taro ice cream in each other's hands and laugh together.

Despite the slight chill in the air, I eagerly take a big bite, instantly filled with the soft, sweet flavor of taro.

MC: No wonder it can become an unspoken understanding among everyone, it's just too delicious!

Lucien also takes a bite of the ice cream, his eyes widening slightly.

Lucien: [gasps in a pleasant surprise] It's a bit cold... but indeed the taste exceeds imagination.

MC: But it seems quite popular on campus. You've never tried it before?

He shakes his head, then as if something catches his eye, he lifts his hand and gently rests it on the top of my head.

Lucien: Although there are indeed many beauties in this world that I have yet to discover…

Lucien: They always seem to be miraculously brought to me by you.

He opens his palm towards me, revealing a pale pink petal lying inside, probably the one he just picked from the top of my head.

I raise my head, and several peach blossoms hanging from the branches come into view.

Realizing that the scenes shared by the students seem to be coincidentally unfolding before us, I look at Lucien with some excitement.

MC: How about we go to the library again and see that old man who loves to do Sudoku?

Unfortunately, the one sitting at the librarian's desk in the reading room is a young girl.

MC: Looks like the old man isn't on duty today…

Sensing my gaze, the girl looks back at me with a puzzled expression.

I instinctively turn to the side, then immediately hear a muffled chuckle from above.

Lucien: [chuckles] Are you forgetting that you* have always had the right to come and go here?

MC: Right…

[T/N: Actually, Lucien teasingly refers to MC as 教师家属 (teacher’s family member) in that sentence. Anyway since he’s a teacher here, and she’s his ‘family member’ she has the right to just come to the library at any time. They can find him at another time together^^]

The familiar reading room, the season of peach blossoms blooming, and the person beside me with a smile, everything seems to be no different from two years ago.

[Reference to Impression Date!]

But unlike back then, the once quiet and empty reading room is now filled with students quietly reading. I can't help but lower my voice.

MC: I don't think I asked you last time, where do you like to sit when you read?

His indifferent gaze falls lightly on the sun-drenched tables and chairs without much emotion.

Lucien: I prefer to borrow books from the third-floor lending room and read them at home rather than here.

MC: Oh? I always thought you wouldn't be picky about reading environments.

Lucien: For me, the environment indeed has little impact on the reading experience.

Lucien: However, at home, there's always a little lady who will snuggle up next to me and read together.

He pauses for a moment, looking at me earnestly.

Lucien: It's hard not to develop a sense of dependence on the comforting environment you create.

✂———————–

—[Part 4]—

MC: Wow, it's "Essays in Love"!

Just as I stepped into the lending room, I paused in front of a somewhat familiar novel.

Lucien: Mm, compared to the story in the book, I'm more impressed by MC's "kidnapping”*.

[T/N: reference to Devotion Date where MC 'kidnaps' Lucien]

He holds my hand and leads me with a smile, I haven't even taken a few steps yet when another book catches my eye.

MC: "YOUR ATOMIC SELF"? You just read it recently during the check-in event!

Lucien: Yes, I returned it after finishing. If you want to read it, there's a new copy in the study that I just bought.

We walk hand in hand through the empty shelves, and every few steps, we come across familiar traces.

MC: Hehe, this book is one we read together.

Lucien: However, after flipping through a few pages, it seems like a girl fell asleep in my arms.

MC: [sweating] Haha, it's the kind of thing you can forget about.

Lucien: [teasingly] Oh? Looks like MC isn't too curious about what happens after she falls asleep.

His lips curled a bit, as if recalling something amusing.

MC: What is it?

Lucien: Actually... [chuckles] about half an hour after you fell asleep, I fell asleep too.

MC: Pfft! If even you fell asleep, then it must be the fault of the book.

Lucien: Though it's a bit impolite to say, the author's writing does lack logical coherence.

Seeing his slightly furrowed brow and troubled expression, I suddenly felt the urge to tease him, so I struggled to suppress a smile.

MC: But I think it's impressive in its own way.

Lucien: Hm?

MC: It can be used for hypnosis~ Next time if I find you refusing to sleep, I'll just read it aloud beside you, and you'll drift off in no time.

Seemingly taking it seriously, he even pondered for a moment before speaking.

Lucien: [chuckles] But the feasibility of this method is not very high.

MC: Why?

Lucien: After all, it seems like you'd get sleepy before managing to lull me to sleep.

Seeing him speak earnestly, but his eyes already betraying laughter, I can't help but laugh along with him.

The clock hanging on the wall quietly completes a full circle as we step into the innermost section of the document area.

Scholarly journals written in various languages are neatly arranged on the bookshelves, bringing together a vast ocean of wisdom.

Suddenly, I remembered something and looked at him with a hint of anticipation.

MC: I remember you recently published a paper in a core journal. Can we find it here too?

Lucien: Nowadays, many publications are distributed in electronic formats. I'm not sure if the library would have hard copies.

His gaze wanders through the dizzying array of titles for a long time, seemingly without finding anything.

So he walks over to the search computer, typing the journal's name on the keyboard, and after hitting the enter key, he squints a little at the screen.

Lucien: [chuckles] Found it.

MC: Huh? They have even the newest ones. Can I find the article you published earlier too?

Five minutes later, I find myself dazedly staring at the thick journals in my arms.

MC: Even though I know about every paper you've published, seeing them all together still makes me want to marvel at your brain…

MC: Can I absorb some of your wisdom by reading these articles?

Lucien: I don't think so.

With a lingering inflection, he leans down slightly and pecks my lips.

Lucien: [chuckles, then whispers] But maybe this way you can.

His earnest demeanor makes it impossible for me to suppress a smile.

MC: Hehe, with Professor Lucien sharing his wisdom with me, I'll definitely be able to read research papers with ease in the future!

As I speak, I flip through the pages and quickly find Lucien's article among them.

Unfamiliar foreign languages and complex technical terms occasionally trip me up as I read, but it doesn't stop me from carefully perusing the text bit by bit.

In his concise and clear theories, it feels like I can see every dull piece of data he recorded and every sleepless night he endured.

And there's also that curiosity that never extinguished, even after countless failed attempts.

Merely watching him moving forward fills me with immense pride.

Unconsciously, I reach the end of the paper, and suddenly, I feel as though I see my name flash before my eyes.

I calm myself and carefully read through the last section once again.

The next moment, as my gaze flicks over the acknowledgments section, I feel my heart skip a beat.

There, my own name actually appears-

And finally, I would like to thank my dear (y/n)-

--whose love and support has always been the driving force pushing me forward.

I stare at him in disbelief, but he just looks at me and smiles.

Having a faint idea of what's going on, I proceed to flip through several other journals.

Without exception, there's a line of acknowledgment dedicated to me after each of his articles.

An indescribable surge of emotions overwhelms me, leaving me momentarily speechless, but he instantly pulls me into his arms with a chuckle.

Lucien: [chuckles, then whispers] What to do.

Lucien: Seeing my little lady so surprised, it seems I can't easily showcase my research results in the future.

His pretended distress amuses me, and I lightly pat him on the shoulder.

MC: You know very well that I'm very happy.

He pulls me into his hug, his chin rubbing against the top of my head.

Lucien: [whispers softly] Um, of course I do.

Lucien: [x2] It's just that seeing you happy because of me, I can't help but feel happy too.

MC: You never mentioned it before.

He looks into my eyes as if trying to see into my heart.

Lucien: [x3] Just like eating and sleeping every day, I don't seem to feel that this is something necessary to mention specifically.

Lucien: [x4] Just as you appear in every corner of my life…

Lucien: [x5] I naturally think of you in the moment of completing an article, and naturally want to express thank you to you.

Lucien: [x6] This natural feeling…

Lucien: [x7]...is like when spring arrives, flowers will naturally bloom.

My heart feels like it's being gently tickled by his whispers, making me unable to resist any longer, so I stand on tiptoe and kiss him.

The next moment, he gently lifts me up, quietly closing the distance between us.

The gauze curtains sway, casting a touch of charm onto the light and shadow falling upon us.

Perhaps it's an illusion, but after he removes his glasses, those eyes that have always been looking at me seem even deeper.

I stare at his handsome features in a trance, unaware of the sudden strength supporting my lower back.

With my soft exclamation, the already close distance becomes even more intimate, not leaving any gap.

His lowered lashes tremble lightly, brushing against my cheeks like butterfly wings.

I have to close my eyes so that my heart doesn't beat too chaotically.

His hot breath lingers on the corner of my lips for a while before finally enveloping it eagerly.

The pleasant breath gradually penetrates my lips and mouth, and then spreads all over my body, making me completely surrender myself to him.

In my hazy consciousness, I faintly hear the sound of flowers blooming.

My next spring with him- really seems to have arrived.

[thesleepyskipper]

Six Sentence Sunday!

Thanks to these lovelies for the tags today! @sophie1973, @orchidscript, @run-for-chamo-miles, @tinyarmedtrex, @getmehighonmagic

@henryspearl, @tailsbeth-writes, @iboatedhere as well as everyone who tagged me on Wednesday as well! It was a crazy week but we made it through!

I'm VERY excited that after many months, my fic "the shower one" (which will certainly get a new proper title 😂) is now written and beta read and will be posted imminently (likely tomorrow!) so this is the final snippet to share! I'm actually really fucking proud of this one so I hope everyone enjoys it!

Alex both loves and hates who he’s become - traipsing across the world for secret hookups with the closeted prince of another country. Truthfully though, these hookups re-energize him. They breathe life back into his mundane existence, the one that focuses only on how much work he can get done, his value seemingly tied to his productivity. Here, he can move without hurrying, he can focus on one thing at a time instead of trying to set the world record for multitasking. Every time he gets to lay his hands on Henry’s skin, he remembers why he’s here; the way it resets his brain. 

He remembers how badly he needs this.

Tags below the cut, crossing our fingers for an emmy win!

@welcometololaland, @cricketnationrise, @myheartalivewrites, , @kiwiana-writes, @firenati0n

@rmd-writes, @celeritas2997, @noahreids, @cha-melodius, @alasse9

@three-drink-amy, @stereopticons, @smblmn, @leaves-of-laurelin, @lilythesilly

@nontoxic-writes, @indestructibleheart, @maxbegone, @clockwrkpendrxgon, @piratefalls

@anincompletelist, @anchoredarchangel, @emmalostinwonderland, @littlemisskittentoes @sparklepocalypse,

@judasofsuburbia, @heysweetheart-writes, @blueeyedgrlwrites @bitbybitwrites, @caterpills

@jmagnabo92, @wordsofhoneydew, @zwiazdziarka, @theprinceandagcd, @miss-minnelli

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @dragonflylady77, @agame-writes, @nocoastposts, @lightningboltreader

@inexplicablymine, @na-dineee, @notspecialbabe, @benwvatt, @cactusdragon517

@onetwistedmiracle, @ninzied, @porcelainmortal, @aforgottennymph, @onthewaytosomewhere

@kordeliafawkes, @stratocumulusperlucidus, @idealuk, @stellarmeadow, @eusuntgratie

@lizzie-bennetdarcy, @dreamtigress, @duchessdepolignaca03, @suseagull04

@priincebutt, @stellarmeadow, @softboynick, @fullsunsets, @na-dineee

@firstprincefairytale, @rachelica9, @readstheroom, @anti-homophobia-cheese, @thighzp

@mikibwrites, @swearphil, @flowerfan2, @rarelyrad, @letloverule1111

@endlesstwanted, @glasshouses-and-stones, @swoonoveryou3, @thedramasummer, @jackzimmermemes

[nostalgebraist]

notes on ada or ardor, from the "summer of ardor 2013" reading group

This post contains my notes on the novel Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle by Vladimir Nabokov, which I wrote in 2013 in connection with a small reading group for the book that I hosted for a few of my friends.

I've posted these notes online before, in several places. However, I recently discovered that all of its incarnations had disappeared, lost in the devouring maw of Web 2.0 you-are-the-product enshittification. (It was originally posted through "Facebook Notes," a feature that doesn't exist anymore; I also put it up as a series of "Goodreads Stories," a feature that also doesn't exist anymore.)

So, I'm putting them up again here, on tumblr.

I'm not under any illusions that tumblr will be around forever, and eventually I expect this copy to go the way of the others. Maybe when it does, I'll finally do the right thing and put it up on my (currently unused) personal website. But pasting it into the tumblr box is slightly easier, so here we are.

Looking back over these notes, I feel quite proud of them. I think I was underselling them in the original intro to the Goodreads edition, which (for the record) said the following:

These notes are certain [sic] inferior in comprehensiveness and erudition to, say, Brian Boyd's notes on Ada Online, or the Kyoto Reading Circle notes. In place of those qualities they mostly substitute bad jokes and webcomic references. The reasons you might, however, want to read this notes in addition to the existing sources are as follows: 1) Unlike everyone else, I try to avoid spoilers 2) I'm just a regular guy writing notes for his friends to read, which may be a good thing if you're an ordinary reader who doesn't want their face blasted off by endless scholarly discussions of minutiae

In fact, I actually went much further into "scholarly discussions of minutiae" than this would seem to suggest – with extensive citations of Boyd and others as needed – and I think I did a pretty good job of it, while not losing sight of bigger themes and stuff.

More generally, I feel like these notes really showcase my love and enthusiasm for the book.

----

The notes are divided into 11 sections, each of which covers a block of chapters we read in a particular week of the reading group. The goofy thematic titles for each of the weekly chapter blocks (e.g. "Oh, Inverted World" for the first one) are my inventions, part of my notes rather than the book itself.

I tried to avoid spoilers for later chapters when writing about earlier ones, though of course if you read the notes all the way through, you'll eventually get fully spoiled.

Except for one small added note (clearly signposted), these are given in their original 2013 form without any edits.

1. Oh, Inverted World (Part 1, Chapters 1-8)

GENERAL REMARKS (Chapters 1-8)

Let's review what we know so far. The story is apparently set on another planet (called "Demonia" or "Antiterra" -- I don't think these terms have come up yet, but I'm mentioning them for the sake of ease of reference). Its history and geography are quite similar to those of earth, although names are often different, and the dates of historical events can vary by up to 100 years. On Antiterra the northern reaches of North America have a mild, warm climate and, politically, form not an independent country (Canada) but a subsection of the U.S. called "Canady," which contains a "province" called "Estoty" which is inhabited largely by Russian-speakers in the west ("Russian Estoty") and Francophones in the east ("French Estoty"). What we call Russia on earth is called "Tartary" on Antiterra, and was settled by Tartars after the Russians were expelled to North America. (If you want some clarification on all of this, there is a very nerdy page about it called "The Geography of Antiterra" at http://www.dezimmer.net/ReAda/AntiterraGeography.htm .)

The mentally ill on Antiterra often have hallucinatory visions of our earth, which they call "Terra." This tendency began in a sort of fad in the Antiterran 1860s. A mysterious event called the "L disaster," which caused electricity to be banned, was responsible in some unspecified way for caused the Terra mania. At the time our protagonist, Van Veen, is writing, electricity has been made legal again, but in the story so far (covering the 1860s and 1880s) it is illegal and electrical devices have been replaced with hydrodynamic equivalents, such as the "dorophone" (hydrodynamic telephone). On the other hand, on the evidence of Ch. 6 at least, Antiterrans in 1884 (the date of Van and Ada's first meeting) have flying carpets and household robots. What little we see of conventional religion on Antiterra is peculiar: people say "thank Log" (short for "logos," maybe?) rather than "thank God," mention is made of "Faragod" ("the god of electricity"), and demons are seen as good rather than evil figures.

That's the setting; what about the story? The first three chapters are a convoluted and uninviting description of Van and Ada's ancestry, as well as (in Ch. 3) an account of the Terra mania and some of the differences between Antiterra and Terra. These three chapters make numerous but oblique references to the fact that Van and Ada, the two romantic leads, are not actually cousins -- as the family tree at the start of the book says -- but brother and sister: they are both actually the children of Demon and Marina, not of Demon and Aqua (Van's putative parents) and Dan and Marina (Ada's putative parents). After a description of Van's first amorous and sexual experiences in Ch. 4, we finally get some narrative traction in Ch. 5, where we start following 14-year-old Van in 1884 as he visits his relatives in Ardis Hall and meets his "cousin"/sister Ada -- who's a pedantic weirdo, but Van's, like, totally into it. That's pretty much it so far.

All of this is being described retrospectively, in the third person, by a very (implausibly?) old Van (he was born in 1870 and Ch. 4 says he "started to reconstruct his deepest past" in "the middle of the twentieth century"), with some notes in the margin by a similarly old Ada. The notes have been preserved in the text we're reading, which is curious in itself (an unedited, or partially edited, manuscript?).

One big question this book presents to the reader is whether Antiterra is real or whether it's something Van (who, in this latter conception, actually lives on our earth) has made up. When I first read the book, I thought "Antiterra is fake" was a plausible theory but by no means certain. Now, upon re-reading, it seems more and more obvious to me that Antiterra is just clearly fake -- the alternate Antiterran names are constantly shifting, for instance. So some of my notes below will talk about why I think Antiterra isn't real. (There is no critical consensus on this point, but that may just be because not enough people are paying attention.)

SOME RELEVANT TEXTS

As you probably know, Brian Boyd has been annotating Ada on his website. The annotations aren't done, and may never be -- he's up to Chapter 34 now, which is only a few chapters further than he'd gotten to when I first read the book two years ago. I will quote from these annotations often, but if you're worried about spoilers (for plot or for discoverable secrets) I don't recommend looking at them (although I used them heavily on my first read-through).

Boyd has also written a critical monograph called "Ada: The Place of Consciousness." I don't strongly recommend it, as it has the typical Boyd faults (justifies inherently implausible theories with over-complicated webs of evidence, expects first-time readers to have super-naive responses that no first-time readers actually have in practice, etc.) and in terms of the Boyd virtues (e.g. obsessive attention to detail) it has nothing to recommend it over the annotations. A better, and shorter, book is "Nabokov's Garden" by Bobbie Ann Mason (published -- really -- by Ardis Press in Ann Arbor), which gets closer to the heart of what Nabokov is doing than Boyd ever seems to.

There is also a set of annotations that Nabokov prepared himself to aid translators, called "Notes to Ada, by Vivian Darkbloom." Your copy may include them at the back. These are pretty sparse and pedestrian, but they are worth mentioning from time to time.

Ada makes a whole bunch of references to books and to visual art. According to Boyd and Mason, some of the more important textual reference points are:

Pushkin (Eugene Onegin) Tolstoy (Anna Karenina, War and Peace, Childhood/Boyhood/Youth) Chateaubriand (Atala/Rene)

Of these I have only read Anna Karenina.

NOTES

A note on pronunciation: "Ada," as Chapter 5 indicates, is pronounced "ahh-dahh," so that it sounds like "ardor" spoken in a non-rhotic accent. "Van" has the same type of "a" sound, since it is an abbreviation of "Ivan." "Veen" is, I think, pronounced like "vain," both for resonance with the word "vain" and because that's how it's pronounced in the Dutch surname "van Veen," which Van's name is supposed to remind us of. I've heard some people pronounce it like the first syllable of "Venus," though, and "Venus" is another intended resonance of the name.

" 'All happy families are more or less dissimilar; all unhappy ones are more or less alike,' says a great Russian writer in the beginning of a famous novel (Anna Arkadievitch Karenina, transfigured into English by R.G. Stonelower, Mount Tabor 3.05 Ltd., 1880)." (1) -- this inversion of the opening sentence of Anna Karenina (which Nabokov, incidentally, insisted should be called Anna Karenin in English) is many things. It's Nabokov making fun of bad translations. It is our narrator, Van Veen, declaring that his family, although sui generis (so to speak), is a happy one. It is an indication that we are entering a mirrored world in which some things may be different from what we're used to -- indeed, may take precisely the opposite form. It's an indication that this book will be (among other things) a parody of 19th century novels. Above all, it is a bizarre opening line that sets the tone for this bizarre book.

"Demon's twofold hobby was collecting old masters and young mistresses. He also liked middle-aged puns." (4) -- now that's my kind of 19th-century libertine! (Note, incidentally, that since Antiterra is also known as Demonia, Demon is effectively named after the earth [or the version of the earth he lives on], which is a good match for names like Marina and Aqua.)

" 'I deduce,' said the boy, 'three main facts . . . " (8) -- this first (textually, not chronologically) conversation between Van and Ada is wonderfully and implausibly dense. The upshot here is that the two have discovered the secret of Van's birth: Marina substituted her baby, whom Demon fathered, for Aqua's dead son, and the mentally impaired Aqua believed that the baby really was her child. This makes Van the son of Marina and Demon (rather than Aqua and Demon), and since the pair already knows that Ada's true father is Demon rather than Dan, this means they are both children of Marina and Demon -- full siblings. (This contradicts the family tree printed at the beginning, and -- despite numerous hints in the coming pages -- was actually missed by some early reviewers of the novel, who went through the whole thing believing that Van and Ada were cousins. Martin Amis, writing in 2009, thinks they are "half-siblings." My nerdrage knows no bounds.)

"by the sea, his dark-blue great-grandmother" (8) -- here's Boyd with the genealogy of this phrase: "Van says 'the sea, his dark-blue great-grandmother' in allusion to the opening chapter of another famous novel, Ulysses (pub. 1922), by James Joyce (1882-1941). In the opening chapter Buck Mulligan, looking seaward, and like Van and Ada also showing off in the first conversation in the novel, exclaims: 'Isn't the sea what Algy calls it: a grey sweet mother? The snotgreen sea. The scrotumtightening sea. Epi oinopa ponton' ([Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1986], 4; 1.77-78). 'Algy' here is Algernon Charles Swinburne (1837-1909): 'I will go back to the great sweet mother, / Mother and lover of men, the sea' ('The Triumph of Time,' pub. 1866, ll. 257-58). 'Epi oinopa ponton' means 'over the wine-dark sea,' a Homeric formula recurring throughout the Odyssey. Notice that Nabokov's 'dark-blue great-grandmother' wittily combines the 'grey' color term in Joyce's recycling of Swinburne's phrase and the 'great sweet mother' in Swinburne, with the 'great' again wittily given an improbable new value in 'great-grandmother.' "

Chapter 2 -- according to Boyd, the bad play Marina acts in here is a parody of bad translations/adaptations of Eugene Onegin. Unlike some of you, I haven't read Eugene Onegin, so the jokes are lost on me.

"the Baron, a physical wreck and a spiritual Samurai, had gone over to Japan forever" (14) -- for some reason I can't stop laughing over the weird, unexpected use of the word "Samurai" here. (It seems ripe for being turned into some sort of surrealist compliment/insult, e.g. "Rob, you are a physical wreck and a spiritual Samurai!")

"Van, I trust your taste and your talent but are we quite sure we should keep reverting so zestfully to that wicked world which after all may have existed only oneirologically, Van? marginal jotting in Ada's 1965 hand; crossed out lightly in her latest wavering one." (15) -- this is the first of what I think of as "moments of instability," moments when the book suggests that there is some crucial secret of its nature that we are not privy to. What is it that "may have existed only oneirologically"? Van and Ada's highly detailed ideas about what their parents' courtship was like? Antiterra as a whole? (If the latter, this would explain why Ada later crossed out the comment, since Chapter 3 makes it clear that Van is determined to stick with the Antiterra idea.) "Reverting" suggests regression (towards something worse, more immature) as well as turning something over (from the root "vert") as images are turned over by a mirror.

"The details of the L disaster (and I do not mean Elevated)" (17) -- strange that he would have to point the latter out in a world in which the L disaster is "well-known historically." "L" can stand for "electricity" (the L disaster has caused electricity to be banned) -- also "Ladore"? (Or Lenin. Or other, more spoilery options.)

"1869 (by no means a mirabilic year)" (19) -- Boyd's annotation for this reads as follows: "a pun on annus mirabilis (Latin, 'wonderful year,' applied especially to 1666, the year of London's Great Fire, in John Dryden's 'Annus Mirabilis,' 1667); on aqua mirabilis, sometimes shortened simply to mirabilis, 'a distilled cordial made of spirits, sage, betony, balm and other aromatic ingredients' (W2), since Aqua is about to be introduced; and as Proffer suggests on Russian mir, 'peace,' and Latin bellum, 'war,' since 1869 was the year Tolstoy's War and Peace was completed." Now that's a pun!

"Marina, with perverse vainglory, used to affirm in bed that Demon's senses must have been influenced by a queer sort of 'incestuous' (whatever that term means) pleasure (in the sense of the French /plaisir/, which works up a lot of supplementary spinal vibrato), when he fondled, and savored, and delicately parted and defiled, in unmentionable but fascinating ways, flesh (/une chair/) that was both that of his wife and that of his mistress, the blended and brightened charms of twin peris, an Aquamarina both single and double, a mirage in an emirate, a geminate gem, an orgy of epithelial alliterations." (19) -- And that is a sentence!

"Demon Veen married Aqua Durmanov -- out of spite and pity, a not unusual blend." (19) -- Karkat would be proud!

"Abraham Milton" on p. 18 becomes "Milton Abraham" on p. 21. Curiouser and curiouser.

"this our sufficient world. . . . Sufficient for your purpose, Van, entendons-nous. (Note in the margin.)" (21) -- second moment of instability. What is Van's "purpose"? This one is easier to make sense of under an "Antiterra isn't real" theory, since in that case Antiterra is sufficient for Van's purposes (i.e. for the reasons that led him to invent it), but not, e.g., for the purposes of other people whose real actions might be misrepresented there. If Antiterra is real, then Ada is either reminding Van of the general fact that some people are less satisfied with the world than he is, or reminding him in particular of people who hope their souls will transmigrate to Terra after death.

With its mystical manias and its college students dropping out to join 'fashionable' social causes, the Antiterran 1860s seem to imitate the Terran 1960s, in which Nabokov was writing.

Strange to have "Anna Karenin, a novel" (25), with that helpful explanatory clause, when on the first page the same novel (with a less accurate name) was "famous." "Manipulate each other" sounds more sexual than what actually happens in A.K., fitting for Ada's combination of 19th century stylings and sexual frankness.

" ' . . . it would have been so much more plausible, esthetically, ecstatically, Estotially speaking -- if she were really my mother.' " (30) -- an enigmatic outburst. Boyd's annotation for "Estotially" says "given the incest laws in Estoty?"

"such details of his infancy as really mattered (for the special purpose the reconstruction pursued)" (31) -- third moment of instability. (What is this "special purpose"? Is is the same as "your purpose" on p. 21?)

"He knew she was nothing but a fubsy pig-pink whorelet and would elbow her face away when she attempted to kiss him after he had finished" (33) -- this will turn out to be pretty representative of how Van sees women.

Chapters 5 and 6 -- we are now past the abstruse genealogical/scene-setting chapters, and, suddenly and somewhat incongruously, we're dropped into a Wes Anderson movie or something. Everything is visually lush and sort of cutesy. Something like this tone will persist, with various interruptions, for quite a while, but don't be fooled into thinking this is all the book has to offer.

"Ardelia" (36) -- Van's misremembering of "Adelaida" (Ada).

"the tiny, tremulous poodlet" (37) -- I present this phrase without comment.

" 'I used to love history,' said Marina. 'I loved to identify myself with famous women. There's a ladybird on your plate, Van. Especially with famous beauties -- Lincoln's second wife or Queen Josephine.' " (38) -- that's Marina for you. Also we can now add "Lincoln" to the two variants of "Abraham Milton."

" . . . jikkers were banned by the airpatrol; but four years later Van who loved that sport bribed a local mechanic to clean the thing, reload its hawking-tubes, and generally bring it back into magic order . . . " (44) -- I'm 99% sure the jikkers with their "hawking-tubes" were the inspiration for the flying carpets called "Hawking mats" that appear in the Hyperion series by science fiction writer Dan Simmons, which I coincidentally happened to be reading concurrently with Ada in summer 2011. (Simmons is a Nabokov fan and uses the name "Ardis" in the series as well. Of course when he uses "Hawking" it's also a reference to Stephen Hawking.)

"Owing to a mixture of overlapping styles and tiles (not easily explainable in non-technical terms to non-roof-lovers)" (45) -- "non-roof-lovers" is certainly not a category that enters my mind very often.

"le Docteur Chronique, I mean Crolique" (49) -- [insert weed joke here]

"Les Amours du Docteur Mertvago" (53) -- Vivian Darkbloom explains: "play on 'Zhivago' ('zhiv' in Russian means alive and 'mertv' dead)."

"Did he like elms? Did he know Joyce’s poem about the two washerwomen? He did, indeed. Did he like it? He did." (54) -- Apparently Finnegans Wake existed in 1884 on Antiterra. Boyd says: "The famous lyrical prose passage involving two washerwomen by the Liffey, at the end of the 'Anna Livia Plurabelle' chapter (I.viii) of Finnegans Wake (1938) -- a passage Joyce recorded in his own voice -- includes the refrain 'Tell me,' which in its last transformation becomes 'Tell me, tell me, tell me elm! Night night! Telmetale of stem or stone.' (216.03-04). Though a great admirer of Ulysses, Nabokov thought Finnegans Wake 'a formless and dull mass of phony folklore, a cold pudding of a book, a persistent snore in the next room. . . . Finnegans Wake’s façade disguises a very conventional and drab tenement house, and only the infrequent snatches of heavenly intonations redeem it from utter insipidity.' (Strong Opinions 71)"

"The retractile head and diabolical anal appendages of the garish monster that produces the modest Puss Moth" (55) -- "Diabolical Anal Appendages" is a great band name.

"Les Malheurs de Swann" (55) -- Vivian Darkbloom: "cross between Les malheurs de Sophie by Mme de Ségur (née Countess Rostopchin) and Proust’s Un amour de Swann."

2. Youth in Revolt (Part 1, Chapters 9-16)

GENERAL REMARKS (Chs. 9-16)

So, starting around Ch. 10 or so, we find ourselves REALLY CLEARLY situated inside the mind of a teenage boy. Everything is openly sexualized, even the food ("enormous purple pink plums, one with a wet yellow burst-split" [62] -- eww). Nabokov usually isn't this overt about this kind of stuff (if he includes it at all), and it was pretty startling to me the first time I read this book.

Back then these chapters startled me in a number of ways, really -- most of them having to do with the way they realistically, perhaps too realistically, take us into the world of adolescents with all their horniness and haughtiness. Van and Ada, who were likable enough in the previous section, begin to grate in this one. Take, for instance, the way their sense of superiority to Mlle Larivière infects not only their own dialogue but also the narration:

". . . the story lacked 'realism' within its own terms . . . That was the fatal flaw in the Larivière pathos-piece, but at the time young Van and younger Ada could not quite grope for that point although they felt instinctively the falsity of the whole affair." (87)

If we take this as an editorial comment from Nabokov himself (rather than just from old Van), it seems pretty self-indulgent: he has created a character who is an incompetent writer, has attack her writing in the voices of his other characters, and now attacks her in the narration itself -- pointing out flaws that he created to begin with! What's even worse is how close Van, and especially Ada, are to Nabokov in various ways -- e.g. Ada's interest in botany and entomology and her distaste for bad translations -- which makes this close to self-congratulatory self-insert 19th-century-novel fanfiction.

Is this interpretation false? Well, I think so, but for reasons that only become clear later on. For the moment, I'll just say that if your reaction to these chapters is "get off my lawn, you damn kids," your reaction is valid, and probably what Nabokov intended. (I mean, not to say their romance doesn't have some appeal; of course it does.)

NOTES

"punctuating Ada’s discourse with little ejaculations" (62) -- see what I mean about sexualizing everything?

" 'It was sort of long, long. I mean (interrupting herself)… like a tentacle… no, let me see' " (62) -- I rest my case.

Chapter 12 is beautiful and odd in its own unique way.

"among the instruments in the horsecart" (72) -- "horsecart" is an anagram for "orchestra." Darkbloom: "horsecart: an old anagram. It leads here to a skit on Freudian dream charades ('symbols in an orchal orchestra')."

"Children of her type contrive the purest philosophies. Ada had worked out her own little system. Hardly a week had elapsed since Van’s arrival when he was found worthy of being initiated in her web of wisdom. An individual’s life consisted of certain classified things: 'real things' which were unfrequent and priceless, simply 'things' which formed the routine stuff of life; and 'ghost things,' also called 'fogs,' such as fever, toothache, dreadful disappointments, and death. Three or more things occurring at the same time formed a 'tower,' or, if they came in immediate succession, they made a 'bridge.' 'Real towers' and 'real bridges' were the joys of life, and when the towers came in a series, one experienced supreme rapture; it almost never happened, though. In some circumstances, in a certain light, a neutral 'thing' might look or even actually become 'real' or else, conversely, it might coagulate into a fetid 'fog.' When the joy and the joyless happened to be intermixed, simultaneously or along the ramp of duration, one was confronted with 'ruined towers' and 'broken bridges.' " (74) -- I like this passage, and this system. I've forgotten a lot of stuff from this book but this has always stuck in my mind.

"The wasp was investigating her plate. Its body was throbbing. 'We shall try to eat one later,' she observed . . . " (75) -- Ada, you are so WEIRD.

" . . . the child was permitted to wear her lolita . . . a rather long, but very airy and ample, black skirt" (77) -- how Japanese of her. Seriously, though, this is one of the many throwaway references to Lolita in Nabokov's later work, which have always gotten on my nerves for some reason. I guess it's poking fun at the public's perception of him as primarily "the guy who wrote Lolita," but it also seems like more fuel for that very perception? I dunno.

" . . . thus dubbed after the little Andalusian gipsy of that name in Osberg’s novel" (77) -- Osberg is an anagram of Borges, to whom Nabokov has often been compared.

"with red poppies or peonies, 'deficient in botanical reality,' as she grandly expressed it, not yet knowing that reality and natural science are synonymous in the terms of this, and only this, dream. (Nor did you, wise Van. Her note.)" (77) -- another moment of instability at which I can only smile and nod. No clue what this means.

"[thus in the MS. Ed.]" (79) -- so the manuscript has been edited, but in a hands-off way, preserving errors and marginal notes rather than removing them or smoothing them out.

"'But, my poor Mathilde, the necklace was false: it cost only five hundred francs!' " (83) -- this story is the Antiterran equivalent of Maupassant's La Parure (thanks, Boyd). I do wonder if there's any intended parallel here to Van being substituted for Aqua's child.

"Being unfamiliar with the itinerary of sun and shade in the clearing, he had left his bicycle to endure the blazing beams for at least three hours." (86) -- even the most trivial details in this book are just so entertainingly described.

Chapter 15 -- I really like the way this chapter seems to be a parody of "loss of innocence" scenes, complete with the heavy-handed Tree of Knowledge symbolism. Since it rings true that Van and Ada might retrospectively view their lives in parodic terms, the scene also works "normally," as characterization, even while it also works as a parody.

"to snatch, as they say, a first shy kiss" (95) -- the innuendo pile doesn't stop from getting taller, if you believe Boyd: "Pun. Cf. Boyd 1985/2001: 243: 'seems to allude to a stock expression -- but the actual idiom is "steal a kiss." Why then that "as they say" just after snatch? Because, of course, there is one colloquial use of "snatch" ': vulva." (On the other hand, I remember the phrase "snatch a kiss" appearing in the romance-novelly chapter of Ulysses, so unless that was the same joke, it may just be an antiquated idiom . . . )

"with only that stray ardilla daintily leavesdropping" (98) -- hard to read even a few words of this book without encountering some sort of mischief. "Ardilla" means squirrel in Spanish, FYI.

3. And I'll Bury My Soul in a Scrapbook (Part 1, Chapters 17-24)

GENERAL REMARKS (Chs. 17-24)

Van and Ada's romance begins in earnest with an appropriately pyrotechnic backdrop; DIY sex ed is facilitated by the vast Ardis library; poems are transmogrified and crossbred; Lucette gets in the way; the style is sometimes gorgeous and sometimes playful or jokey to the point of tedium. The attic scene at the end of Ch. 1 fits somewhere in here, chronologically speaking. Meanwhile, the density of references has gone up precipitously, so I've written a lot more notes, most of which are quoted or cribbed from Boyd. There is the feeling of a steady rise in difficulty after the easy early Ardis chapters, like a musical piece that slowly builds in complexity.

If you're up to date, can you leave a comment saying whether you like the book so far? Just curious. I know this book is polarizing, and I don't want to feel like I'm leading you down a very long blind alley.

NOTES

Compared the leering and arch chapters directly preceding it, Chapter 17 is rather lovely. The tone in much of Part 1 seems to waver between romantic and satiric, with one of the two dominating the other in each chapter (speaking roughly).

"Their lips were absurdly similar in style, tint and tissue. Van's upper one resembled in shape a long-winged sea bird coming directly at you, while the nether lip, fat and sullen, gave a touch of brutality to his usual expression. Nothing of that brutality existed in the case of Ada's lips, but the bow shape of the upper one and the largeness of the lower one with its disdainful prominence and opaque pink repeated Van's mouth in a feminine key." (102) -- just felt like noting this down because it's an example of this book's excellent descriptions of sensory detail. Note the motif of Van's "brutality" (Ada's reaction to Van's hand-walking performance in Ch. 13: "I felt there was something dreadful, brutal, dark, and, yes, dreadful, about the whole thing" [86]).

"Nose, cheek, chin -- all possessed such a softness of outline (associated retrospectively with keepsakes, and picture hats, and frightfully expensive little courtesans in Wicklow)" (103) -- unsubtle foreshadowing: apparently Van will be soliciting courtesans later on.

"pascaltrezza" (103) -- Darkbloom: "pascaltrezza: in this pun, which combines Pascal with scaltrezza (Ital., 'sharp wit') and treza (a Provençal word for 'tressed stalks'), the French 'pas' negates the 'pensant' of the ‘roseau’ in his famous phrase 'man is a thinking reed.' " Sick pun, bro!

"Remembrance, like Rembrandt, is dark but festive." (103) -- okay, I'm going to have to stop noting down every cool or cute line in this chapter or else I'll just be noting down the whole thing. Boyd quibbles: "Rembrandt . . . is generally much less festive than such compatriots and contemporaries as Franz Hals (c.1581-1665) and Jan Steen (1625/6-1679). Van may particularly have in mind the decidedly festive 'Self-portrait with Saskia' . . . "

"What (Ada asks) are eyes anyway? Two holes in the mask of life. What (she asks) would they mean to a creature from another corpuscle or milk bubble whose organ of sight was (say) an internal parasite resembling the written word 'deified'?" (104) -- my quote moratorium has lasted less than a page, it seems.

" . . . the most tragic and almost fatal point of my life . . . How I used to seek, with what tenacious anguish, traces and tokens of my unforgettable love in all the brothels of the world!" (104) -- this chapter seems intent on briefing us about the shape of the overall plot. Note that a moment ago we got a reminder that Lucette died young ("at eight, twelve, sixteen, twenty-five, finis" [104]), though technically that could be deduced from the family tree at the beginning.

" 'I am sentimental,' she said. 'I could dissect a koala but not its baby. I like the words damozel, eglantine, elegant. I love when you kiss my elongated white hand.' " (105) -- Boyd: "Damozel is an archaic variant of 'damsel,' revived by Sir Walter Scott and other romantics after him 'to express a more stately notion than is now conveyed by damsel' (OED). Eglantine, especially [sic? -Rob] the sweetbriar (Rosa eglantera). Edmund Spenser (c.1552-1599) in The Faerie Queene (1590-96) uses both words toward the end of Book III, Canto VI (The Garden of Adonis), 'eglantine' in stanza 44, 'damozel' in stanza 54."

"a cad" (105) -- presumably Demon.

"after Mlle Larivière had threatened to smear poor Ada's fingertips with French mustard and tie green, yellow, orange, red, pink riding hoods of wool around them" (106) -- Boyd cites Jay Alan Edelnant's Ph.D. thesis, which notes that "this sequence implies 'green thumb' and 'pinkie.' ".

"born between Paris and Tagne (as he'd better, said Ada, who liked crossing orchids)." (106) -- Boyd notes that "Tagne" is not a real place and "seems a back formation from 'montagne' in the poem (106.25), as if it were 'mon Tagne,' 'my Tagne.' " The poem that follows is a hybrid ("crossing orchids") between the most famous poems of Baudelaire and (the actual) Chateaubriand (the latter poem will show up again in Ch. 22, where V&A will play with various phrases of the form "mon [X]"). Darkbloom translates it as "my child, my sister, think of the thickness of the big oak at Tagne, think of the mountain, think of the tenderness -- "

"Lucette’s and Lucile’s" (106) -- "Lucille, incidentally, was the true name of Chateaubriand’s sister, with whom he was in love" (Vera Nabokov).

" . . . and briefly attaining a drugged beatitude into which, as into a vacuum, the ferocity of the itch would rush with renewed strength." (107) -- a good description of this familiar experience.

"Nowadays it seems to be getting extinct, what with the cooler climate" (108) -- apparently the Antiterran climate has been growing closer to the Terran one?

"Suddenly Van heard her lovely dark voice on the staircase saying in an upward direction, 'Je l’ai vu dans une des corbeilles de la bibliothèque' -- presumably in reference to some geranium or violet or slipper orchid." (125) -- Ada's utterance, "I saw it in one of the wastepaper-baskets of the library," is actually (presumably) a response to Blanche asking about the location of her slipper, which she lost at the start of Ch. 19 ("Yes, she rushed down the corridor and lost a miniver-trimmed slipper on the grand staircase." [114]).

"She wore -- though not in collusion with him" (126) -- Boyd's annotation reads: "Why might we have thought that Ada had donned her black shorts and white jersey in collusion with Van?" I dunno, man.

From Boyd's Forenote to Ch. 21: "The prohibition against knowing about sex matches the Edenic prohibition against tasting of the Tree of Knowledge, and the theme of Ardis as Garden of Eden somehow resounds even amid the hush of the library. Just as the solitary couple in the left panel of Bosch’s Garden of Delights gives way to the throngs of sensualists, fructivores and sexual acrobats in the triptych’s central panel, in an endless slow merry-go-round of desire, so Van and Ada returning now as lovers to the library sample sex as something endlessly repeated through time: in evolutionary terms, from Serromyia flies and the lowliest farm animals to geishas and Casanovas; in cultural terms, from Oriental erotica, Shastras and Nefzawis, to litterateurs and sexologists."

"May 1, 1884 . . . 14,841 items" (130) -- I quote Boyd's annotation here because it's the kind of hyper-minute and hyper-trivial analysis only Boyd, for better or for worse, can provide: "The echo of the date ('1, 1884') in the number of items in the library (which would have been even closer had Nabokov chosen April 1, 1884: 1-4-1884: why did he choose 'Mayday' rather than April Fool’s Day?; and see 133.01 and n.) and the palindromic quality of '14841' (which also happens to be the sum of the squares of 120 and 21, the latter the number of the chapter -- is this significant, in this self-referential section? -- and the former a near palindrome of it, with 'nothing' added -- was that intended?) reflect Nabokov’s abilities as mathematical prodigy in his infant years, and his preoccupation with pattern in both nature (butterfly wing-markings, for instance) and art (versification, for instance)."

"A bawdy critic in a collection of articles which she now could gleefully consult (Les muses s'amusent)" (133) -- Nabokov's invention, title means "The Muses Have Fun." (Boyd)

"Ivan Ivanov" (134) -- sounds like a reference to Van, but Boyd notes also: " 'Ivan Ivanovich Ivanov' is the archetypal Russian; see for instance Bernard Guilbert Guerney’s translation of Gogol’s Dead Souls (but not in Gogol himself), ch. 11: 'why, on several occasions caricatures had actually been put out depicting Ivan Ivanovich Ivanov talking with John Bull' (1942; New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1966, 252.)"

"Kapuskan patois" (136) -- Boyd: "Kapuskan patois: Which, judging by the sample, seems to consists of a mix of French, American and Spanish, the European languages (except for Portuguese) of Earth’s Americas. Kapuskasing is a town in northern Ontario (49.25N, 82.26W), in an area of Ontario where French and English are both widely spoken." As for the "Kapuskan" quote itself: "This comically transparent macaronic passage yields: 'The only sure method of deceiving nature is for a strong-guy to continue-continue-continue until the pleasure brims; and then, at the last moment, to switch to the other groove; but because an ardent or a heavy woman cannot turn over quick enough, the transition is helped by the position of torovago.' "

"Heinrich Müller" (136) -- Darkbloom: "author of Poxus, etc." Of course this is Henry Miller, author (on Terra many decades later) of Sexus, etc. (For a good time, check out Gore Vidal's review of Sexus.)

"My sister . . . " (138) -- for the song by Chateaubriand on which this is based (which was crossbred with Baudelaire back in Ch. 17), see here. (If you want to avoid a quotation from a later chapter of Ada, stop reading at the sentence beginning "The poem, with score and tune . . . ")

"Ma soeur, te souvient-il encore / Du château que baignait la Dore?" (138) -- straight from the Chateaubriand: "My sister, do you still remember / The castle bathed by the Dore?"

"Sestra moya, tï pomnish' goru / I dub vïsokiy, i Ladoru?" (138) -- Darkbloom's trans.: "my sister, do you remember the mountain, and the tall oak, and the Ladore?"

"Oh! qui me rendra mon Aline / Et le grand chêne et ma colline?" (138) -- Darkbloom's trans.: "oh who will give me back my Aline, and the big oak, and my hill?" Slight alteration of the final sestet of the Chateaubriand: "mountain" has been changed to "hill" and "Helene" has become "Aline," the name of Chateaubriand's elder brother's wife (significance?). Darkbloom on the original: "The final (fifth) sestet begins with 'Oh! qui me rendra mon Hélène, Et ma montagne et le grand chêne' -- one of the leitmotivs of the present novel."

"Oh! qui me rendra, mon Adèle / Et ma montagne et l'hirondelle?" (138) -- now the name is "Adele" (now the addressee rather than the object) and the "great oak" is the "swallow." Adele brings "Adelaida" (Ada's real name) to mind just as "Lucile" below does for Lucette/Lucinda.

"Oh! qui me rendra ma Lucile, / La Dore et l'hirondelle agile?" (139) -- now it's "the Dore" and "the agile swallow." Lucile is the real name of Chateaubriand's sister. "Agile swallow" comes from an utterance of Mlle Lariviere's ("And see that agile swallow!" [87]), as do some other bits here.

"Oh, who will render in our tongue" (139) -- pun on earlier "rendra" ("give back").

"say 'chort' (devil) . . . which he had never heard her do before" (139) -- Van's forgetting that he had her say "chort" on p. 96. Speaking of devils, note that "Ada" means "of hell" (i.e. it's the genitive of "hell") in Russian.

"To the average physiologist, the energy of those two youngsters might have seemed abnormal" (139) -- part of a motif about Van and Ada's exceptional nature; cf. the earlier mention of the "demon blood" (20) they inherited from their father (which brings us back, thematically, to hell).

"yclept" (141) -- "Meaning 'called,' 'named,' this word, elsewhere obsolete, survived as an allowable archaism in poetry." (Boyd)

" 'I kept for years -- it must be in my Ardis nursery -- the anthology you once gave me; and the little poem you wanted me to learn by heart is still word-perfect in a safe place of my jumbled mind, with the packers trampling on my things, and upsetting crates, and voices calling: time to go, time to go. Find it in Brown and praise me again for my eight-year-old intelligence as you and happy Ada did that distant day, that day somewhere tinkling on its shelf like an empty little bottle. . . . ' " (146) -- well, that's heartbreaking. Note that Van, typically (as we shall see), does not comment on the pathos of the situation.

"Here, said the guide . . . " (146): Nabokov wrote, in third person, to Bobbie Ann Mason: "The poem Peter and Margaret is of course Nabokov’s own composition. Not a single reader (as far as he knows) has understood that it is a stylized glimpse of a mysterious person visiting the place, open to tourists, where in legendary times ('legendary' in Antiterra terms) a certain Peter T. had his last interview with the Queen’s sister. Although he accuses the old guide of being a 'ghost,' it is he, in the reversal of time, who is a ghostly tourist, the ghost of Peter T. himself. It is a very beautiful little poem, it should send a tingle down the spine of the reader." For a full report on the reference here and the way this poem by the fictional "Robert Brown" emulates Tennyson and Browning, see here.

"But as Van casually directed the searchlight of backthought into that maze of the past where the mirror-lined narrow paths not only took different turns, but used different levels (as a mule-drawn cart passes under the arch of a viaduct along which a motor skims by), he found himself tackling, in still vague and idle fashion, the science that was to obsess his mature years -- problems of space and time, space versus time, time-twisted space, space as time, time as space -- and space breaking away from time, in the final tragic triumph of human cogitation: I am because I die" (153) -- death has poked its head into the frame a number of times in these chapters ("the most tragic and almost fatal point of my life" [104], "a fatidic shiver" [146], " their . . . in many ways fatal romance" [148]), and it does so again in this remarkable sentence. Et in Arcadia ego?

"just finished reading her new story" (154) -- this one is based on Maupassant's "La Petite Roque" (AKA "Little Louise Roque"). There's a summary here.

4. The Second Law of Thermodynamics (Part 1, Chapters 25-34)

GENERAL REMARKS (Chs. 25-34)

In which Van learns you can never really recapture your childhood.

The story now shifts into a new phase: where Van's preoccupying monomania used to be his attraction to Ada, it is now his jealousy of anyone who might, conceivably, have designs on her. There is a newly neurotic tone to many of these chapters, and Van's characteristic allusiveness starts to seem defensive rather than expressive or simply playful. Meanwhile, Lucette herself has become infatuated with Van. (What is it with this family?)

NOTES

"kitchen Kim with his camera" (156) -- pay close attention to Kim and his camera.

"Tel un lis sauvage confiant au désert" (157) -- "Thus a wild lily entrusting the wilderness" (Darkbloom). A quote from Les Trois Règnes de la Nature by Abbé Jacques Delille (in context: "Thus a wild lily / Entrusting to the wilderness the perfume it exhales, / Hides its virginal beauty from the indiscreet winds"). Delille seems to have been one of the many, many authors on Nabokov's shit list.

" . . . and this attire was hardly convenient for making klv zdB AoyvBno wkh gwzxm dqg kzwAAqvo a gwttp vq wjfhm Ada in a natural bower of aspens; xliC mujzikml, after which she said: . . ." (157) -- just when you thought this book couldn't get any weirder, it just starts throwing glitchy gibberish at you with no warning whatsoever. Of course, all is explained in the next chapter, but I really like the audacity of it. (The joke here is that if you actually decode the text, it's completely tame, at least on a surface level: "making his way through the brush and crossing a brook to reach Ada in a natural bower of aspens; they embraced.")

"the letter scene in Tschaikow’s opera Onegin and Olga" (158) -- Boyd: "Nabokov mocks here the inaccuracies of theatrical adaptations of literary texts, including the Chaikovsky adaptation of Pushkin’s Eugene Onegin (see 10.11-12.20 and nn. and 511.34: 'the preposterous libretto'). The letter scene, itself specifically parodied at 11.02-20 (and nn.), of course focuses on Tatiana as letter-writer. A version that had misconstrued Pushkin’s story enough to have her sister Olga share the title with Onegin might even omit Tatiana altogether. In Pt. 1 Ch. 2 the show in which Marina plays the letter-writing role seems to be called Eugene and Lara (13.22), which at least preserves as well as distorts some of Tatiana’s surname (Larina); but by now, the disintegration has become even more complete, as the other Larina girl takes over the title role."

"I don't know. I adore you. I shall never love anybody in my life as I adore you, never and nowhere, neither in eternity, nor in terrenity, neither in Ladore, nor on Terra, where they say our souls go." (158) -- "adore"/"Ladore" here resonates nicely with the unspoken (but, in this book, always present) "ardor."

"Stumbling on melons, fiercely beheading the tall arrogant fennels with his riding crop" (159) -- Darkbloom: "allusions to passages in Marvell’s 'Garden' and Rimbaud’s 'Mémoire.'" (From Marvell's Garden: "Stumbling on melons, as I pass, / Ensnared with flowers, I fall on grass.") [TV narrator voice] "Previously on Ada or Ardor": Rimbaud's poem was referenced a number of times in Van and Ada's esoteric lunch-table conversation in Ch. 10.

In Chapter 27 we begin to get a sense of Van's conventionally masculine double standard about infidelity.

"Villa Armina: Marina never realized it was an anagram of the sea, not of her." (163) -- Ouch!

"garbotosh" (165) -- reference to a famous poster for the film Anna Christie, which pictures Greta Garbo wearing a macintosh. As it happens, all of the physical characteristics listed later in this passage are consistent with the idea that Cordula is supposed to look like Garbo. Garbo was rumored to have had affairs with women. (She also -- perhaps relevantly? -- played the title character in the 1935 adaptation of Anna Karenina.)

"ambivert" (165) -- apparently this means "a type of person intermediate between the introvert and the extrovert," though of course it sounds as though it means "bisexual."

"by his amour-propre, not by their sale amour" (168) -- "amour-propre" can mean either "self-love" or "clean love"; the former appears to be the actual meaning here, but the latter allows the phrase to appear to contrast more directly with "sale amour" ("dirty love"). Darkbloom: "pun borrowed from Tolstoy's 'Resurrection.'"

"On the contrary: a private picture of their fondling each other kept pricking him with perverse gratification." (168) -- another "yep, Van sure is a teenage boy" moment. (It wasn't until I copied this quote down here that I noticed the retrospectively obvious innuendo in "pricking." Maybe it's best to assume that every word of this book is some sort of innuendo until proven otherwise . . . )

"Adula" (168) -- resonates of course with "adulation."

"the entire treatment of the Marcel and Albertine affair" (169) -- Van refers to the theory that the character Albertine in In Search of Lost Time is really a gender-swapped male, i.e., that her affair with Marcel is actually a veiled depiction of a male homosexual affair.

"(On fait son grand Joyce after doing one's petit Proust. In Ada's lovely hand.)" -- the previous sentence links up to Joyce's Ulysses in several difficult-to-catch ways, described by Boyd here. Note that Van's monologue about Proust was itself in the style of Proustian dialogue.

"He could solve an Euler-type problem" (171) -- an insignificant detail, but as a math guy I'm of course curious what exactly is meant by this phrase. There are many problems associated with Euler, who was one of the most prolific mathematicians ever. In the French translation of Ada this becomes "a problem in Euler integrals." Euler integrals are certain special mathematical functions, which doesn't nail down what the problems in question are, but gives us a general idea of what sort of knowledge is involved -- calculus, probably. (Van is 10!)

"I have often wondered why the Russian for it" (175) -- by "it" he means "cheating."

"Van worked under Tyomkin, at the Chose famous clinic, on an ambitious dissertation he never completed, 'Terra: Eremitic Reality or Collective Dream?' " (182) -- the nature of the Terra pathology, along with the nature of time and space, will be one of Van's major interests as an adult.

"a triumph, in a sense, over the ardis of time" (185) -- "ardis" means "point of an arrow" in Greek, so this is a modification of the conventional phrase "the arrow of time."

"Thus the rapture young Mascodagama derived from overcoming gravity was akin to that of artistic revelation in the sense utterly and naturally unknown to the innocents of critical appraisal, the social-scene commentators, the moralists, the idea-mongers and so forth." (185) -- yep, we're definitely reading a Nabokov book here.

"Van on the stage was performing organically what his figures of speech were to perform later in life -- acrobatic wonders that had never been expected from them and which frightened children." (185) -- this makes explicit what might already have been clear: the connection between Van's interest in card tricks, acrobatic feats, etc. and his penchant for playing tricks with words.

"and (I have a note here, for the ghost of a novel) 'the low cut of her black dress allowed the establishment of a sharp contrast between the familiar mat whiteness of her skin and the brutal black horsetail of her new hair-do.'" (188) -- a vertical A-B-A (or, equivalently, A-D-A) pattern. The novel in question here is presumably Ada itself, which apparently means that this bit is some earlier note or thought that has been incorporated into the text. Note that the dramatic arc of Ada follows something like an A-D-A pattern, and that the title itself contains more than one such pattern (the word "Ada" is one, and the fact that "Ada" sounds like "Ardor" makes the phrase "Ada or Ardor" another).

"'My teacher,' she said, 'at the Drama School thinks I'm better in farces than in tragedy. If they only knew!'" (191) -- a self-conscious nod to the tension between comedy and drama in this novel?

"her only true love, the head of the arrow" (192) -- another ardis.

"I'll have them reassembled in Ladore when I motor there one of these days." (193-4) -- and here's another attempt to triumph over the ardis of time, this one much closer to the sort of examples found in introductory physics textbooks. The collecting of the necklace pieces seems like a pretty transparent metaphor for the lovers' attempt in this scene to recapture what they had in 1884.

Note that Ada has become less interested in biology (nature) and more interested in acting (artifice). Bobbie Ann Mason sees this as an effect of the corrupting influence of her "unnatural" affair with Van.

"Her director, G.A. Vronsky" (197) -- Vronsky is Anna's lover in Anna Karenina. His name is combined here with "the 'common Russian-Jewish name' Gavronsky" (Boyd citing Alfred Appel). Cf. Marina's lover "Baron d’Onsky" (13).

"what begins with a 'de' and rhymes more or less with a Silesian river ant" (199) -- "Since the Oder is the main river of Silesia, a historical region of eastern Europe now mostly in Poland although with small portions in Germany and the Czech Republic, the riddle spells the hint: 'deodorant.'" (Boyd).

"She smelled of damp cotton, axillary tufts, and nenuphars, like mad Ophelia." (199) -- cool sentence. Nenuphars are water lilies.

"The indecent 'telegraph'" (201) -- the banning of electricity has had amusing consequences for Antiterran profanity.

"(reversing the action of Dr. Ero, pursued by the Invisible Albino in one of the greatest novels of English literature)" (203) -- Darkbloom: "thus the h-dropping policeman in Wells’s Invisible Man defined the latter’s treacherous friend." Could additionally be a reference to Ellison's Invisible Man. (In an interview, Nabokov discusses the notion of meeting literary figures in heaven: "It would be fun to hear Shakespeare roar with ribald laughter on being told what Freud (roasting in the other place) made of his plays. It would satisfy one's sense of justice to see H. G. Wells invited to more parties under the cypresses than slightly bogus Conrad.")

"the sunglasses of much-sung lasses" (203) -- that's a pretty good one.

"two black and one golden-red head" (204) -- a possible A-D-A, although it seems more likely that Van is in the middle (in which case it's an A-D-A by gender, I guess).

5. Father Lucifer (Part 1, Chapters 35-38)

GENERAL REMARKS (Chs. 35-38)

The Ardis of 1888 continues to be awkward. Scrabble is played. Demon stops by and wants to ask whether Van and Ada are involved, but never manages to.

To be honest, with the exception of the Scrabble scene, I'm not that fond of these chapters -- the plot has been lagging lately and the reader could be forgiven for wondering whether any of this is going anywhere or whether the rest of the book will be comprised of minor, unpleasant Veen family interactions described at great length. Mark my words, though: the next section (the rest of Part 1) is utter gold, and is what convinced me I loved the book the first time around.

And as always, no matter how slow the plot is, there's plenty of trivia to note! Speaking of which, Boyd's online notes end at Ch. 34, although note that there are some interesting notes (composed with Boyd's help) here that go up through Ch. 38. After this, we're flying blind.

NOTES

"the oars crippled by refraction" (217) -- nice metaphor.

"my acarpous destiny" (219) -- "acarpous" means "fruitless."

"A diligent student of case histories, Dr. Van Veen never quite managed to match ardent twelve-year-old Ada with a non-delinquent, non-nymphomaniac, mentally highly developed, spiritually happy and normal English child in his files, although many similar little girls had bloomed -- and run to seed -- in the old châteaux of France and Estotiland as portrayed in extravagant romances and senile memoirs." (219) -- a self-conscious nod to the implausibility of Ada the character. Minor evidence for theories of the "Van invented Ada" variety (of which I am fond).

"Captain Grant's Microgalaxies" (220) -- Darkbloom: "known on Terra as Les Enfants du Capitaine Grant, by Jules Verne."

"ailleurs" (220) -- "go away" (?), lit. "elsewhere."

The ending of Ch. 35 has been "scrawled on a separate writing-pad page" and is apparently by a very old Van, possibly on his last night before death. It is appropriately (?) strange. Mentions of the process of composition sometimes coincide with especially abstruse and odd passages (cf. the sections alternately written by Van and Ada in Ch. 12). Is this an indication that these were written last, by an older senile Van / Ada, who either wrote strangely because they were senile or simply died before having the chance to revise this material (or both)?

"and now a century later seems to be again in vogue, so I am told, under the name of 'Scrabble,' invented by some genius quite independently from its original form or forms." (222-3) -- cf. earlier " 'We [Van and Ada in 1884] played mostly Scrabble and Snap,' said Van." (163)

"Lucette would later recall how her sister's triumphs in doubling, tripling, and even nonupling (when passing through two red squares) the numerical value of words evolved monstrous forms in her delirium during a severe streptococcal ague in September, 1888, in California." (223) -- like the Noodle Incident, this is all the more hilarious for its lack of specificity. ("Evolved monstrous forms"?)

"Baron Klim Avidov" (223) -- anagram for "Vladimir Nabokov" (Kyoto Reading Circle notes).

"Avidov . . . at a particule" (223-4) -- "The gist of this short incident is that Avidov was accused by the Englishman Keyway of his pretentions to aristocratic lineage by using the French 'de' before his name (d’Avidov)." (Kyoto Reading Circle notes)

"By July the ten A's had dwindled to nine, and the four D's to three. The missing A eventually turned up under an Aproned Armchair, but the D was lost" (224) -- A-D-A reference, of course, and maybe another arrow of time / entropy thing? (The "A" of paradisiacal Ardis lost and then regained.)

"it was pitiful to see Lucette cling to her last five letters (with none left in the box) forming the beautiful ARDIS which her governess had told her meant 'the point of an arrow' -- but only in Greek, alas." (225) -- I'm sure you could do some "clinging to Ardis" / "arrow of time" thematic stuff with this. (I have kind of a one-track mind today, it seems.)

"the amusing VANIADA" (226) -- this coinage will turn up again.

"TORFYaNUYu" (227) -- there is a peat motif (yes, you heard me, a peat motif) in this book: "Veen" for instance means "peat bog" in Dutch. (Boyd has written an article called "Ada, the Bog and the Garden: or, Straw, Fluff, and Peat: Sources and Places in Ada.")

V&A's virtuosic triumphs over Lucette in Ch. 36 leave me wondering exactly what they feel they have to prove (numerous decades later!).

"some 'blue' (peat-bog) land" (236) -- peat again.

"his "prebrandial" brandy (an ancient quip)" (238) -- cf. "he liked . . . middle-aged puns" (4).

"You look quite satanically fit, Dad." (239) -- I wonder what exactly "satanically" means on Antiterra, where religion seems to have been tweaked somewhat, and demons are benign figures. (Note the reference to the Eden story later in this chapter, and the Eden reference that dominates Ch. 15.)

" 'You’ll live to reach Terra, and come back a wiser and merrier man' " (241) -- this may be fortune-teller frivolity, but it is interesting to wonder whether it has any deeper meaning in the context of the plot.

"the sweetest word in the language rhymes with 'billiard' " -- Kyoto Reading Circle: "The word is 'milliard,' thousand million, that is, billion."

"That’s very black of you" (241) -- Kyoto Reading Circle: "Converted 'white of you,' a Southern racist compliment which means 'good of you.' "

"Filius aquae" (243) -- Darkbloom: " 'son of water,' bad pun on filum aquae, the middle way, 'the thread of the stream'." But, as the Kyoto Reading Circle observes, this is also a reference to Van's parentage (he is not "filius aquae," "son of Aqua"). This chapter is packed with hints about Van and Ada's parentage, particularly to the fact that Ada is Demon's daughter.

"Tell him I’m the youngest Venutian? Does he belong, too? Show the sign? Better not. Invent." (244) -- in Ch. 28, Dick offered Van a membership to the "Villa Venus Club." Apparently Van is now a member.

"Old Demon, iridescent wings humped" (245) -- one of several references so far to Demon's "wings." Presumably a flight of fancy rather than a literal description, but then so much of Van's tale is difficult to believe that a literally winged father might not be so out of place. (But if the wings really existed we might expect some remark about how he had been named for them, when in fact we just hear that Demon is "a form of Demian or Dementius" [4].)

"which Ada de Grandfief here has twisted into English" (246) -- yet another colorful version of "translate."

" 'Which is amply sufficient," said Demon, "for my little needs, and those of my little friends.' " (247) -- cf. "Sufficient for your purpose, Van" (21).

"the unfortunate plant used to be considered by the ancient inhabitants of the Ladore region not so much as a remedy for the bite of a reptile, as the token of a very young woman’s easy delivery" (247) -- the reference to the pains of childbirth here continues the Adam and Eve reference begun in Ada's preceding line, in which she links snakes and "corruption."

" 'I'm Fanny Price, actually' . . . 'In the staircase scene' " (249) -- not having read Mansfield Park, I can't divine the significance of either of these statements. Google leads me to this: "The stairs leading to the attic also have significance in the novel. A week after Fanny’s arrival at Mansfield Park, Edmund finds his cousin sitting on the stairs that lead to the attic. Her placement on the stairs reinforces the view of Fanny as a person between two worlds. She can no longer live with her family in Portsmouth and does not feel that the Bertram house is her home either. She is never completely part of the Bertram family until later in the novel; and in her first years with the family, Fanny does not feel fully accepted as a member of the household."

"this gemel planet" (256) -- "gemel" is a heraldic term meaning "coupled" or "paired."

"the young hospital nurse Dan had been monkeying with ever since his last illness (it was, by the way, she, busybody Bess, whom Dan had asked on a memorable occasion to help him get 'something nice for a half-Russian child interested in biology')" (256) -- the 12th birthday gift Ada received and hated back in Ch. 13 ("a huge beautiful doll -- unfortunately, and strangely, more or less naked; still more strangely, with a braced right leg and a bandaged left arm, and a boxful of plaster jackets and rubber accessories, instead of the usual frocks and frills" [84]).

"certicle storms" (258) -- Darkbloom: "certicle: anagram of 'electric.' " Electricity may be taboo, but Antiterrans still need a way to refer to natural electrical phenomena. (Also brings "cervical" to mind?)

"Antiamberians" (258) -- apparently some sort of anti-electricity group. The word "electricity" itself comes from the Greek word for "amber." Philip Pullman, thinking along the same lines, had his otherworldly characters in the His Dark Materials trilogy use "anbaric" (from the Arabic for "amber") energy.

"young Bout hurried in dragging the long green cord (visibly palpitating in a series of swells and contractions rather like a serpent ingesting a field mouse) of the ornate, brass-and-nacre receiver" (260) -- a hydrodynamic telephone sure is a funny image.

"his key: 221" (262) -- Demon is linked a number of times in this Chapter to Sherlock Holmes, who lived on 221 Baker Street (Kyoto Reading Circle).

"till dee do us part" (263) -- "dee" is the first letter in Demon's name: when Demon finally discovers their affair, Ada expects him to order them to stop. Also, possibly, a reference to the negative associations of the "D" segment of the A-D-A sequence (if this book is about paradises lost and then regained, "A" is the paradise while "D" is its absence).

6. Van/Ada, Blanche/Van, Rack/Ada, Percy/Ada, Van/Cordula, Hurt/Comfort, Mpreg (Part 1, Chapters 39-43)

GENERAL REMARKS (Chs. 39-43)

Shit just got real.

NOTES

"Speaking as a character in an old novel" (266) -- this "old novel" motif is starting to get a bit worn out.

"One of your aunt's servants is the sister of one of our servants and two pretty gossips form a dangerous team" (271) -- the former servant is Blanche. (Cf. "better than waste them on her, let him give them, she said, to Blanche's lovely sister" [277].)

"Percy, you were to die very soon -- and not from that pellet in your fat leg, on the turf of a Crimean ravine, but a couple of minutes later when you opened your eyes and felt relieved and secure in the shelter of the macchie; you were to die very soon, Percy; but that July day in Ladore County, lolling under the pines, royally drunk after some earlier festivity, with lust in your heart and a sticky glass in your strong blond-haired hand, listening to a literary bore, chatting with an aging actress and ogling her sullen daughter, you reveled in the spicy situation, old sport, chin-chin, and no wonder. Burly, handsome, indolent and ferocious, a crack Rugger player, a cracker of country girls, you combined the charm of the off-duty athlete with the engaging drawl of a fashionable ass. I think what I hated most about your handsome moon face was that baby complexion, the smooth-skinned jaws of the easy shaver. I had begun to bleed every time, and was going to do so for seven decades." (273) -- enjoyably spiteful paragraph. Strange to think of Van, over ninety, having lived with Ada for decades, writing this as though still angry at Percy. (I always tend to assume that Van's uses of the first person indicate heights of emotional intensity or involvement, though that may be too simple.)

"It was, he understood, a collation of shepherds." (274) -- no idea what to make of the shepherds. Suggestions welcome.

"Ada strolled up. 'My hero,' she said, hardly looking at him, with that inscrutable air she had that let one guess whether she expressed sarcasm or ecstasy, or a parody of one or the other." (278) -- doubles, of course, as a description of Ada the book.

"We do not care to follow the thoughts troubling Ada, whose attention to her book was far shallower than might seem; we will not, nay, cannot follow them with any success, for thoughts are much more faintly remembered than shadows or colors, or the throbs of young lust, or a green snake in a dark paradise." (280-1) -- strange to point this out when the book almost never follows Ada's thoughts, and the excuse rings hollow since Van's thoughts are, by contrast, followed relentlessly. I wonder what that "green snake in a dark paradise" means. There have been various Eden references (Shattal tree, dinner party), but none that seem to match up satisfactorily with that phrase.

"Therefore we find ourselves more comfortably sitting within Van while his Ada sits within Lucette, and both sit within Van (and all three in me, adds Ada)." (281) -- all three are in Ada the book, of course . . . "and all three in me" also makes me think of the Trinity. (If older Ada is incarnating in younger Lucette, then Ada is the Father and Lucette is the Son, which would make Van the Holy Spirit, which is funny since the Holy Spirit, unlike the other two, is believed by some to be female. [Is this my silliest line of speculation yet?])

"Van was lying in his netted nest under the liriodendrons, reading Antiterrenus on Rattner." (283) -- cf. p. 230: "Van lay reading Rattner on Terra, a difficult and depressing work." Mirror-reflection motif, of course.

"I've seen him in Sexico" (286) -- now that is a good bad movie title.

"It was not the sly demon smile of remembered or promised ardor, but the exquisite human glow of happiness and helplessness. . . . They stood brow to brow, brown to white, black to black, he supporting her elbows, she playing her limp light fingers over his collarbone, and how he 'ladored,' he said, the dark aroma of her hair blending with crushed lily stalks, Turkish cigarettes and the lassitude that comes from 'lass.' " (286-7) -- the writing has returned to romantic gorgeousness; it's been a long time since we've been here. Note that the style of this passage, and the use of the adore/Ladore pun, recalls the passage on p. 158-9 when Van and Ada part for the first time. Van seems to view his relationship with Ada in the most idealized terms at moments that directly precede their partings.

"That's a beautiful passage, Van. I shall cry all night (late interpolation)." (287) -- not sure what to make of this, but it seems significant.

"she was wearing his diamonds for the first time" (288) -- apparently Van did repair the diamond necklace after all?

I love Chapter 41. Nabokov is very good at rendering the moment when it all comes crashing down, and much of Ch. 41 is a wonderfully well-written, aching and hilarious depiction of what it feels like when your brain hits a fact it just can't deal with. In a lot of Nabokov's novels, though, this moment happens at the end, while here it's right in the middle: the demonic D of the A-D-A pattern ("till Dee do us part"). An A-D-A dramatic arc, if plotted with something like "happiness" on the vertical axis, would form a "V" shape (or, if mirror-inverted -- with both paradises exposed as false? -- an "A" shape).

"her quaint English, elegiac and stilted, as spoken only in obsolete novels" (292) -- this has the form of a diss towards Blanche, but its impact is kind of distorted by the fact that all sorts of things in Ada, including Ardis Hall itself, are describes as reminiscent of "old novels." "Obsolete novels" is kind of a strange notion in the context of this book, which is itself written in an archaic mode.

" 'Van,' she said, 'I must tell you my dream before I forget. You and I were high up in the Alps . . . ' " (296) -- the coincidence of Van and Ada's dreams here recalls dream coincidences in Anna Karenina and Ulysses. (Nabokov, in this interview: "Activist, demonstration-struck students of the present decade would, I suppose, either drop my course after a couple of lectures or end by getting a fat F if they could not answer such exam questions as: Discuss the twinned-dream theme in the case of two teams of dreamers, Stephen D.-Bloom, and Vronski-Anna.")

"Aqua used to say that only a very cruel or very stupid person, or innocent infants, could be happy on Demonia, our splendid planet. Van felt that for him to survive on this terrible Antiterra, in the multicolored and evil world into which he was born, he had to destroy, or at least to maim for life, two men." (301) -- unless I'm forgetting something, this is the first appearance of either of the names of Van's planet. Given that they will appear frequently from here on out, this seems statistically unlikely to be a coincidence. It's as if Van has invented these nasty-sounding terms to express his despair at this particular moment, and only later retconned them in as "official" names for his (fantasy) planet.

I remember reading somewhere that the duel in Ch. 42 is heavily derivative of Eugene Onegin. The author I was reading claimed this as reason to doubt the duel ever actually happened. (Which makes sense if, and only if, you're working in a general framework that says Van has access to something like western literature as it exists on earth.)

"In 1884, during my first summer at Ardis, I seduced your daughter" (309) -- clarifies that Ada is Demon's daughter, in case the reader still hasn't picked up on it.

"Van noticed a speckled movement on his right: two little spectators -- a fat girl and a boy in a sailorsuit, wearing glasses, with a basket of mushrooms between them. It was not the chocolate-muncher in Cordula's compartment, but a boy very much like him, and as this flashed through Van's mind he felt the jolt of the bullet ripping off, or so it felt, the entire left side of his torso" (310-11) -- I feel like this is significant (either Cordula and the boy or their doppelgängers appear as here like angels of [near-]death?), but I have no idea where to go with it.

Van's prepared monologue to Rack (314-15) is so weird I almost want to call it another "moment of instability." Death has been an important motif up until this point; now Van meditates, seemingly without prompting, on the afterlife. The futility of this magisterial proclamation (which Rack doesn't even appear to hear) is hilarious, but the passage is unnerving in a way that goes beyond that comedic function. There is a feeling that the book is going off the rails, that we and Van, not Rack, are in fact plummeting into "the panic and pain of infinite night" (315).

"kissing her rosy hot face and kneading her soft catlike body through her black silk dress" (318) -- to contrast with the swoonyspoony purple prose in the highest-pitch V&A encounters, Van's exciting moments with other women get assigned this down-to-earth porn-novel style. (I may be imagining this contrast -- I'll have to see whether it persists in the rest of the book.)

"But, of course, an invaluable detail in that strip of thought would have been -- perhaps, next to the pitcher peri -- a glint, a shadow, a stab of Ardis." (320) -- of course Van is trying to link the death of Percy -- far away, having nothing to do with him or Ada -- with his own desire to kill Percy and its motivation. Is that all that's going on here, though? Another odd, extended passage which, like the earlier monologue, serves to remind us that we're not in Kansas/Ardis anymore. (Incidentally, in this passage two open parentheses are closed with only one close parenthesis -- this is the case both in my edition and on Ada Online. Is this meant to be unsettling? Stop me before I read into trivial details again!)

"anxious to enjoy Cordula as soon as humanly and humanely possible" (320) -- nice turn of phrase.

"When in early September Van Veen left Manhattan for Lute, he was pregnant." (325) -- a funny piece of trivia: some early editions (including some of the copies at the NYU library) have "he was pregnant" idiotically "corrected" to "she was pregnant." Anyway, this parting shot for Part 1 is a anticlimactic parody of the climactic important of pregnancy in 19th-century fiction. (In the Darkbloom notes, VN says it's specifically a reference to Kitty Levin's pregnancy in Anna Karenina.) The genesis of a creative work is a poor substitute for a real pregnancy as a culmination to a story so concerned with sex and romance -- a fact only accentuated by the relatively minor status of the creative work in question (which we'll learn about in the next section).

7. L. Van Hubbard and the Modern Science of Mental Health (Part 2, Chapters 1-5)

GENERAL REMARKS (Part 2, Chs. 1-5)

This week's section is more varied than some. Van reads letters from Ada; writes a science fiction novel based on his patients' experiences; visits a chain of high-class brothels whose origins and peculiarities are described in more detail than we really need, thank you very much; riffs on dreams; and has an incredibly awkward reunion with Lucette.

NOTES

"I implore you for breath [sic! Ed.] of understanding" (332) -- there are several editor's notes in Ada's letters here (from the fictional, Nabokov-created editor). They call into question turns of phrase that seem like deliberate wordplay, which makes one wonder just who this editor is and whether their competence can be trusted. It also raises the question of why these particular instances of wordplay are being singled out in this wordplay-heavy book. Does the editor, for instance, have some grudge against Ada's (the character's) writing style?

"[Los Angeles, mid-September, 1888]" (332) -- Ada's "severe streptococcal ague," which made her delirious, occurred "in September, 1888, in California" (223). But if this has had any influence upon this letter, I can't discern it.

"He and I have gamed at Nevada, my rhyme-name town" (333) -- apparently either Vegas or Reno has been replaced with a city called "Nevada" on Antiterra. Similarly, the use of the word "Manhattan" in the book seems to indicate that instead of a New York City, Antiterra just has a city called Manhattan.

"Van, you are responsible (or Fate through you is responsible, ce qui revient au même) for having let loose something mad in me when we were only children" (334) -- the idea that Van has somehow corrupted Ada will recur.

"in early Thargelion, 1888" (335) -- Thargelion is . . . apparently the second month of spring in the Attic Greek calendar? Maybe Sam can explain this reference to me.

"as they were bound to be in the long ruin [sic! "run" in her blue stocking. Ed.]" (335) -- another problematic "sic." Also, I confess I don't know what the editor means by "in her blue stocking." Has Ada herself has made this correction in blue pen? [2024 edit: huh, apparently I didn't know the term "bluestocking" (meaning "feminist") back in 2013.]

"When Van retrieved in 1940 this thin batch of five letters, each in its VPL pink silk-paper case, from the safe in his Swiss bank where they had been preserved for exactly one half of a century, he was baffled by their small number. The expansion of the past, the luxuriant growth of memory had magnified that number to at least fifty." (336) -- this seems to call into question much of the book so far, since if Van can misremember a simple fact this severely, how the hell did he remember all of the little novelistic details he's included? Van does provide an excuse for this particular case a moment later, but this is a strong reminder that we aren't supposed to take Ada as a purely factual account.

"the impeccable paranymph" (337) -- a paranymph is an attendant in a ceremony, originally an attendant to the bridge and groom in an ancient Greek wedding.

I really like Chapter 2, mostly for the fact that it sheds light on Terra, one of this book's enduring mysteries.

"In his struggle to keep the writer of the letters from Terra strictly separate from the image of Ada, he gilt and carmined Theresa until she became a paragon of banality." (339-40) -- "carmined" here could indicate that Theresa is an analogue of Lucette, a redhead.

"his anagram-looking name, Sig Leymanksi, had been partly derived by Van from that of Aqua’s last doctor" (340) -- the doctor was "Sig Heiler" (28). Darkbloom on Sig Leymanksi: "anagram of the name of a waggish British novelist keenly interested in physics fiction." The novelist in question is Kingsley Amis.

"with Theresa swimming inside like a micromermaid" (340) -- Michael Maar in his book "Speak, Nabokov" links Lucette with the Little Mermaid of the classic fairy tale. I remember very little of his discussion, but I imagine this was part of the evidence. (The Little Mermaid of the Disney movie, which long postdates Ada, was a redhead, but I can't find any indication that this was a traditional feature.)

"a sumptuously fripped up, trite, tedious and obscure fable, with a few absolutely marvelous metaphors marring the otherwise total ineptitude of the tale." (344) -- anticipates, of course, one subset of the Terran reactions to Van's later work "Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle."

"Osberg (Spanish writer of pretentious fairy tales and mystico-allegoric anecdotes, highly esteemed by short-shift thesialists)" (344) -- remember that "Osberg" is an anagram of "Borges." Ouch!

"The Perfumed Garden" (344) -- this book, a "fifteenth-century Arabic sex manual and work of erotic literature" (Wikipedia), actually exists, and according to Bobbie Ann Mason is a significant source for Ada. I don't remember much about Mason's appendix on the subject, though.

Chapter 3 is something else, that's for sure. The best interpretation I can come up with is that it, or some subset of it, is an erotic dream of Van's that has been incorporated into the text. He is clearly half-asleep as he writes the end of Chapter 2. Van's sleepy state of mind may explain the sudden mentions of Eric van Veen and his dream in that section, which at that point have never been mentioned and are a mystery to the reader. If Van falls asleep with thoughts of Eric van Veen in his mind, it makes sense that he would dream of floramors. The narrative action in Ch. 3 (what little of it there is) has the sudden shifts and strangeness of dreams, and the exposition has the implausibility of the sort of "backstory" that dreams often present as given knowledge, as well as the extravagant elaborations often characteristic of sexual fantasies. Having awoken, Van recounts his dream (Ch. 3) and then, inspired, proceeds to riff on dreams in general, and erotic dreams in particular, in an imagined psychology lecture (Ch. 4).

There are problems with this. The most obvious is, of course, that if Van is doing this, why doesn't he tell us? It seems especially perverse to spend a brief paragraph on erotic dreams -- beginning with "Van's sexual dreams are embarrassing to describe" -- if in fact the previous chapter was an extended description of one. There's also the fact that the Venus club has been mentioned before, so we're clearly supposed to believe it exists, even if we don't believe every detail from Ch. 3. And although much of the design of the Villa Venus club resembles a sexual fantasy, there's actually a pre-existing justification for this in the idea that it was the sexual fantasy of a horny teenager, realized in reality after his death.

"David van Veen, a wealthy architect of Flemish extraction (in no way related to the Veens of our rambling romance)" (347) -- a reminder that "van Veen" is, in the real world, usually encountered as a Dutch surname. So if we want to play the plausibility game, it seems more likely that David and Eric van Veen were real names, and "Ivan Veen" a pseudonym inspired by them, than vice versa. (But since so many Nabokov characters have zany names, this is probably a pointless exercise, unless we want to call into doubt absolutely everything.)

"a chain of palatial brothels that his inheritance would allow him to establish all over 'both hemispheres of our callipygian globe' " (348) -- that's definitely the best use of the word "callipygian" I've ever seen. (Not that it has much competition.)

Note that, according to Nabokov in an interview, the image of Van holding a young prostitute in a ruined villa was the first seed of Ada the novel in his mind, and he was pleased with himself for managing to work it into the finished product.

"impeccable buttocks" (351) -- a funny phrase given the etymologically literal meaning of "impeccable": "unable to sin."

"a well-known oneirotic device" (354) -- a hint that this a dream.

"subsidunt montes et juga celsa ruunt" (355) -- "mountains subside and heights deteriorate."

"was not sure if her name was really Adora, as everybody maintained" (357) -- compare to earlier "Adula" (168), formed by merging the names of Ada and Cordula.

"but the soft little creature in Van's desperate grasp was Ada" (358) -- this could mean several things. Most conservatively, Van is trying to recapture Ardis by imagining that prostitutes like this one are Ada. But it is also possible that this is a literal description of a dream shift: a stranger in his dream has just turned into Ada. This seems especially plausible given the way the word "Ada" comes at the end of the sentence, forming the "punchline" of the sentence and perhaps of the whole chapter. This kind of ambiguity is characteristic of Van's style (remember Demon's "wings" -- and there will be more examples).

"Van Veen [as also, in his small way, the editor of Ada]" (365) -- the brackets seem to indicate that this comment is from the editor, but then the lack of an "Ed." seems to indicate otherwise. Maybe Van is imitating the editor.

"At sixteen she looked considerably more dissolute than her sister had seemed at that fatal age." (367) -- the use of the word "fatal" in this book is very odd (see e.g. Ada as "pale fatal sister" [307]). How is sixteen a "fatal" age? "Fatal" can mean something like "fateful" and I assume that's the primary meaning in most of these cases. That the word has another, more common meaning provides resonance with the death motif and a link between death and fate.

"Two ideas were locked up in a slow dance, a mechanical menuet, with bows and curtseys: one was "We-have-so-much-to say"; the other was 'We have absolutely nothing to say.' " (370) -- that's a good way of putting it.

"ejaculated Lucette" (370) -- the beginning (I think) of a series of silly sexual innuendoes in this scene, similar to those in the early Ardis sections. Intuitively enough, this tendency toward innuendo seems to be a hallmark of scenes in which Van is in the presence of an attractive woman and doesn't have a steady girlfriend.

"[thus in the MS. Ed.]" -- we saw this phrase once before, in Part 1 Ch. 13 (p. 79). There, too, Van wrote the start of a paragraph twice. I would conjecture that this mistake reflects the feverish anxiety that characterizes the present chapter -- which Van may be reliving as he writes -- except I don't think anything similar can be said of Ch. 13. (This could also be an indication that these chapters were written late, and thus revised relatively little before Van's death.)

"It certainly came from Lucette's sister. He knew that shade and that shape. "That shade of blue, that shape of you" (corny song on the Sonorola)." (372) -- indication that Ada writes in blue pen? (See earlier "blue stocking.")

"The mental in Van always rimmed the sensuous: unforgettable, roughish, villous, Villaviciosa velour." (373) -- sensuous words for a sensuous sensation. "Villous": "(of a structure, esp. the epithelium) Covered with villi." ("Villi": "small, finger-like projections that protrude from the epithelial lining of the intestinal wall.") "Villaviciosa" is the name of several places in Spain and the Philippines. "Velour": "A plush woven fabric resembling velvet, chiefly used for soft furnishings, clothing, and hats."

"[quite possibly, this is not remembered speech but an extract from her letter or letters. Ed.]" (374) -- this could probably be said about almost any of the speech in this book, couldn't it?

"We were Mongolian tumblers, monograms, anagrams, adalucindas." (375) -- cf. the description of Marina as experienced by Demon: "an Aquamarina both single and double, a mirage in an emirate, a geminate gem, an orgy of epithelial alliterations." (19)

"campophone" (376) -- could be from Latin "campus" (field) or the Greek root "kamp-" meaning "bend." The latter seems more likely, especially since "phone" is Greek and we've seen "dorophone" from Greek "hydro." It's unclear what a "campophone" is, and since it affects the radiators, it seems to be a type of dorophone.

"polliphone" (376) -- could be from Latin "pollex" (thumb) or Greek "polloi" (many, majority). (I don't actually know Greek so I could be screwing up these Greek roots.) Might also be a reference to Pollux, one of two famous twins? The phones are morphing, like Abraham Milton / Milton Abraham / Abraham Lincoln.

"Bergson is only for very young people or very unhappy people, such as this available rousse." (377) -- as I mentioned a while ago, Bergson seems to have been a source for Van's, and Nabokov's, views of time. (From this interview: "At a later period, in Western Europe, between the ages of 20 and 40, my favorites were Housman, Rupert Brooke, Norman Douglas, Bergson, Joyce, Proust, and Pushkin.")

"Vandemonian" (377) -- "a white inhabitant of Tasmania," according to Merriam-Webster.

"A ribald contemporary of Justinus, the Roman scholar." (384) -- at least on Terra, this is false, as Herodas and Justin were separated by several centuries. (That's one thing that's nice about the alternate world: it gives Van an alibi for each lapse in his erudition.)

"campophoned" (385) -- back to "campophone" from "polliphone."

" 'I also know,' said Lucette as if continuing their recent exchange, 'who he is.' She pointed to the inscription 'Voltemand Hall' on the brow of the building from which they now emerged. Van gave her a quick glance -- but she simply meant the courtier in Hamlet." (386) -- Voltemand was the pseudonym under which Letters From Terra was published, hence Van's misinterpretation.

8. Cameras and Obscurities (Part 2, Chapters 6-9)

GENERAL REMARKS (Part 2, Chs. 6-9)

Ardis regained? Peeping Kim. Two sisters and a brother. Three sisters.

NOTES

"He . . . had a structurally perfect stool (its cruciform symmetry reminding him of the morning before his duel)" (389) -- Van has aesthetic standards for everything, it seems. As it turns out, if we go back to Part 1 Ch. 42 -- the morning before Van's duel -- we find the very same phrase ("He shaved, disposed of two blood-stained safety blades by leaving them in a massive bronze ashtray, had a structurally perfect stool" [309-10]). I remember Boyd pointing this out in The Place of Consciousness. Apparently some reviewers complained about the repetition, but Boyd claims that they don't appreciate the "structural perfection" of the whole book, in which repetitions have some special role. (I don't remember this part of Boyd's argument very well -- it struck me as pretty silly and hence I have retained only this, its silliest detail.)

"libellula" (390) -- "a genus of dragonflies, commonly called Skimmers" (Wikipedia). Since Van "broke down on '…ulla,' " what he's actually said is "I saw you circling above me on libel," but I dunno if that has any significance.

"denunciation of demoniac life" (391) -- presumably "demoniac life" means "life on Demonia" (similar to e.g. "earthly existence"), but the associations of the word "demon" in this book are complex and I don't really know what to make of them. There's the planet Demonia (Antiterra), V&A's father Demon, incidental uses of words like "demoniac" and "satanic," and the fact that demons are good rather than evil figures in Antiterran religion. As Maar has noted, there's a longstanding association between demons/hell and pedophilia in Nabokov, perhaps indicating that N identifies pedophilia as some sort of ultimate or absolute evil -- e.g. Humbert Humbert says that the girls to whom he is attracted have a "not human, but nymphic (that is, demoniac)" nature, and in Nabokov's early poem "Lilith," the pedophilic narrator realizes in the last line that he is in hell.

"Veen and Dean" (393) -- this seems to encourage us to pronounce "Veen" to rhyme with "Dean," for symmetry -- but then see e.g. "Vain Van Veen" (299), which gives an identical push in the opposite direction.

"He was omniscient. Better say, omni-incest" (394) -- someone should write an article called "The Omni-Incest Narrator in Ada."

"mossio votre cossin" (396) -- "monsieur your cousin" (Darkbloom).

"Mademoiselle n'aurait jamais dû recevoir ce gredin" (397) -- "should have never received that scoundrel" (Darkbloom).

"Sumerechnikov! He took sumerographs of Uncle Vanya years ago." (399) -- Darkbloom: "His name comes from Russ. sumerki, twilight; see also p. 43." The Darkbloom annotation for p. 43 identifies sumerki as "dusk" rather than "twilight." On p. 43 itself, we find "The late Sumerechnikov, American precursor of the Lumière brothers, had taken Ada’s maternal uncle in profile with upcheeked violin, a doomed youth, after his farewell concert." The Lumiere brothers were real people, the inventors of the earliest motion-picture equipment in history. This all sheds some light on Van's quip "The Twilight before the Lumières" (399).

The density of unusual words ("leering caruncula in the unreticent reticulation" [401]), and of multilingual wordplay, has increased in this chapter, possibly to accompany Ada's return to the frame.

"it was Mr Ben Wright's last petard at Ardis" (401) -- Darkbloom: "Mr Ben Wright, a poet in his own right, is associated throughout with pets (farts)." Wright was "fired after letting winds go free while driving Marina and Mlle Larivière home" (140), and in 1888 he has been replaced as coachman by a guy named . . . Trofim Fartukov (actually from Russ. fartuk, apron). This also (see p. 418) appears to be the true origin of "pet" as V&A's pet name for Lucette. It is perhaps a sign of the basic goodness of our blessed Terra that no scholar, to my knowledge, has written at any length about the intricacies of farting in Ada.

"Bright derision can easily grade, through a cline of glee, into a look of rapture" (402) -- good sentence.

"this Love under the Lindens by one Eelmann transported into English by Thomas Gladstone" (403) -- Darkbloom: "O'Neil, Thomas Mann, and his translator tangle in this paragraph." We can add "transport" to the stack of derisive replacements for "translate."

"But, in the sudden storm, calculations went to the canicular devils." (403) -- cf. "l’ardeur de la canicule" and "the ardor of your little canicule" (95). "Canicule" refers to the "dog days" of summer ("the hot period between early July and early September").

"Art my foute. This is the hearse of ars, a toilet roll of the Carte du Tendre!" (406) -- Darkbloom explains all. "Foute: French swear word made to sound 'foot.' " "Ars: Lat., art." "Carte du Tendre: 'Map of Tender Love,' sentimental allegory of the seventeenth century." ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Map_of_Tendre )

"I will either horsewhip his eyes out or redeem our childhood by making a book of it: Ardis, a family chronicle." (406) -- trivia note: in Nabokov's last novel, Look At The Harlequins!, the protagonist, an alternate universe version of Nabokov, writes a body of work that strongly resembles Nabokov's own. His equivalent of Ada is titled "Ardis." (The actual book "was entitled at first Villa Venus, then The Veens, then Ardor, and finally Ada," according to this essay.)

"Knabenkräuter" (408) -- Darkbloom: "Germ., orchids (and testacles)."

"She married our Russian coachman . . . Oh she did? That's delicious. Madame Trofim Fartukov. I would never have thought it." (408) -- why doesn't Van remember this from Ada's letter? (" . . . as your sweet Cinderella de Torf (now Madame Trofim Fartukov) used to say . . . " [334].)

"She had never realized, she said again and again (as if intent to reclaim the past from the matter-of-fact triviality of the album), that their first summer in the orchards and orchidariums of Ardis had become a sacred secret and creed, throughout the countryside. Romantically inclined handmaids, whose reading consisted of Gwen de Vere and Klara Mertvago, adored Van, adored Ada, adored Ardis's ardors in arbors. Their swains, plucking ballads on their seven-stringed Russian lyres under the racemosa in bloom or in old rose gardens (while the windows went out one by one in the castle), added freshly composed lines -- naive, lackey-daisical, but heartfelt -- to cyclic folk songs. Eccentric police officers grew enamored with the glamour of incest. Gardeners paraphrased iridescent Persian poems about irrigation and the Four Arrows of Love. Nightwatchmen fought insomnia and the fire of the clap with the weapons of Vaniada's Adventures. Herdsmen, spared by thunderbolts on remote hill-sides, used their huge "moaning horns" as ear trumpets to catch the lilts of Ladore. Virgin chatelaines in marble-floored manors fondled their lone flames fanned by Van's romance. And another century would pass, and the painted word would be retouched by the still richer brush of time." (409) -- this delightful paragraph seems like a particularly overt and silly instance of the kind of tall-tale embellishment that we are supposed to imagine Van and Ada have applied to most parts of their story (to one extent or another).

Chapter 8 starts off with lots of long jeweled sentences, then descends into obscure weirdness after the Veens get drunk.

" 'Van, too, was upset,' replied Ada cryptically and grazed with freshly rouged lips tipsy Lucette's fanciest freckle." (413) -- notice how the sound echoes here (cr[yptically]/gr[azed]/fr[eshly]/fr[eckle], [graz]ed/[roug]ed, lips/tips[y], f[anciest]/f[reckle]) create the sensory impression of the words "grazing" one another.

"Nikak-s net" (415) -- Darkbloom: "Russ., certainly not."

"vorschmacks" (416) -- Darkbloom: "Germ., hors-d'oeuvres."

"in a nulliverse, in Rattner's 'menald world' where the only principle is random variation" (416) -- "menald": "speckled, variegated." Not sure what Lucette is getting at here.

"you cannot demand pudicity on the part of a delphinet!" (416) -- "delphinet" appears to be a Nabokovian coinage. It seems to be a diminutive of some "delph-" word . . . the flower genus "Delphinium"? The name "Delphine"? Suggestions welcome.

"the flat palpitating belly of a seasand nymph" (418) -- Lucette/mermaid connection.

"Thus seen from above" (418) -- the long, elaborate visual description here is the opposite of the quickly escalating action one might expect from an erotic scene like this. The joke is how far this passage is from ordinary sex writing; it's hard to imagine anyone getting turned on by it. (Which recalls the debate over whether Lolita was pornographic.)

". . . but I know somebody who is not simply a cat, but a polecat, and that's Cordula Tobacco alias Madame Perwitsky." (420) -- huh??? Google searching for "polecat slang" reveals only that in the South it means "skunk," and a "perwitsky" is apparently a "tiger weasel." No idea what she means here.

"After a while he adored [sic! Ed.] the pancakes" (420) -- OK, the editor has a point here. If this is wordplay on "ordered," it's pretty feeble. There may be an element of self-parody here -- after all this isn't too far from some of the more frivolous of Van's/Nabokov's clearly intentional jokes.

"Esmeralda and mermaid" (421) -- Lucette/mermaid.

"for the first time in my fire [thus in the manuscript, for 'life.' Ed.]" (421) -- similar to the case just mentioned. I wonder what we're meant to make of the varying frequency of editorial comments -- most chapters have none, but (e.g.) Chs. 1, 5, and 8 of Part 2 have several. Maybe this is an indication of compositional order.

"The whole matter secretly nauseated Van (so that, by contrast, her Natural History passion acquired a nostalgic splendor)." (425) -- there's a wry nod to the nature of adolescent love in the fact that Van, though obsessed with Ada, never actually shares her central passions. First he's bored with her interest in natural history, then he's so bored with her interest in acting that he looks back fondly on the natural history phase.

"I seem to have always felt, for example, that acting should be focused not on 'characters,' not on 'types' of something or other, not on the fokus-pokus of a social theme, but exclusively on the subjective and unique poetry of the author" (246) -- Reminder Number (n+1) That We Are Reading A Vladimir Nabokov Novel

"In 'real' life we are creatures of chance in an absolute void" (426) -- cf. Lucette's "in a nulliverse, in Rattner's 'menald world' where the only principle is random variation" (416). As before, I'm not sure what we are supposed to make of this idea. There's a recurring idea, I think, that Antiterra is variegated/motley/diverse, perhaps in a "random" way ("the multicolored and evil world into which he was born" [301]). Rattner's "menald world" is presumably Antiterra. Does Terra, by contrast, possess some sort of unity or harmony?

"so that the title of the play might have been The Three Sisters" -- this (technically just "Three Sisters") is in fact the title of the real play on Terra. Much of the rest of this chapter probably makes more sense if you've read the play . . .

"We all know those old wardrobes in old hotels in the Old World subalpine zone." (430) -- but of course!

"the rose sore of Eros alone" (431) -- oh my god, this is a double anagram and a really good phrase in its own right. Picture me as Sweet Bro stricken with awe.

9. The Many-Worlds Interpretation (Part 2, Chapter 10 to Part 3, Chapter 4)

GENERAL REMARKS (Part 2, Ch. 10 to Part 3, Ch. 4)

Where Part 1 ended with a parody climax, Part 2 ends with a real climax -- in fact two real climaxes, the latter of which is suddenly defused in one of this weird book's weirdest moments.

Then, after a lurching fast-forward through many Ada-less years, we get yet another cringe-inducing encounter with desperate Lucette in Part 3 Ch. 3. At this point, Van's refusal to indulge Lucette's desires is beginning to seem almost perverse; it's understandable that he doesn't want to lead her on when he doesn't love her, but that kind of consideration hasn't stopped him from becoming involved with other women. For much of the book Van has come off simply as an amoral aesthete, but as we near the end, he is -- between the blinding of Kim and his conduct with Lucette -- starting to seem like something much worse.

This raises a number of questions: how are we supposed to feel about the coming Van-Ada reunion (which we know is happening because of Ada's annotations to the manuscript) if Van is such a bastard? And why, when Van makes up numerous details (e.g. in the Ardis chapters) that he couldn't possibly have remembered, does he allow himself to come off so badly in the latter parts of the book? If he has no commitment to strict factual accuracy, why not just twist the facts to make himself look better in the Lucette scenes? It would be one thing if Van's guilt over his own mistakes were a major theme of his book (and it may in fact be, in some hidden sense), but Van is curiously silent on these issues, as though expecting the reader to take his bad behavior in stride. Issues like these make this book (to me) both fascinating and intensely creepy in a way that would not be possible if Van's flaws were dealt with more overtly.

NOTES

"He set off at once for Manhattan, eyes blazing, wings whistling." -- Demon's wings again.

"The only personage they had not reckoned with was the old scoundrel usually portrayed as a skeleton or an angel" (433) -- so Antiterrans depict Death roughly the same way Terrans do, despite the differences in religion.

"but [Dan's] death had shown an artistic streak because of its reflecting (as his cousin, not his doctor, instantly perceived) the man’s latterly conceived passion for the paintings, and faked paintings, associated with the name of Hieronymus Bosch." (433) -- Dan, like Aqua, has descended into madness before dying. There is a symmetry to this: each of V&A's parents has a sibling (of the same gender) who has died in this way, and madness is now attested to on both the Durmanov and Veen sides of the family. There is an antisymmetry in the content of the madness -- Aqua dies dreaming of heaven-like Terra, while Dan dies haunted by visions out of Bosch's depiction of hell. (According to Boyd the reference here is to Bosch's triptych The Last Judgment. Demon brings up "that other triptych," the Garden of Earthly Delights; Mason's book contains some discussion of The Garden of Earthly Delights as a broader influence upon Ada.) Have Van or Ada inherited the mental illness that plagued their aunt and uncle? (Who are their putative mother and putative father -- and what's the significant of that?) It's interesting that Nabokov encourages us to think about this possibility just before the bizarre ending of Part 3.

"might still be living with dull little Cordula de Prey . . . but Cordula was not dull and had not been present" (434) -- Van invents a thought process for Demon, then disputes it. The point of contention is odd, since Cordula has come off as pretty "dull" in all of Van's own accounts of her thus far.

"looking forward to another day of increasing happiness (with yet another uncomfortable little edge smoothed away, another raw kink in the past so refashioned as to fit into the new pattern of radiance)" (434) -- a nice statement of Van's broader MO.

"According to Bess (which is 'fiend' in Russian)" (435) -- actually, it means "demon" (e.g. Dostoyevsky's novel "Bésy," usually translated "Demons").

"how incestuously -- c’est le mot -- art and science meet in an insect, in a thrush, in a thistle of that ducal bosquet" (436) -- this remark of Demon's calls back to the peculiar phrase " 'incestuous' (whatever that term means) pleasure" (19) used to describe Demon's enjoyment of his mistress Marina's similarity to his wife Aqua.

"what we have to study [in Bosch], as I was telling your cousins, is the joy of the eye, the feel and taste of the woman-sized strawberry that you embrace with him, or the exquisite surprise of an unusual orifice" (437) -- hilarious.

"Jeroen Anthniszoon van Äken" (438) -- the real name of Hieronymus Bosch.

"hell curs, k chertyam sobach’im" (438) -- the Russian is "to hell's hounds" or "to the canine devils" (so roughly the equivalent of "hell curs"). "Canicule" may be relevant here (Ada/hell connection)? The Russian phrase appears two other times in Ada, translated differently each time: "hydrodynamic telephones and miserable gadgets that were to replace those that had gone k chertyam sobach'im (Russian 'to the devil')" (23), and "But, added Ada, just before being whisked away and deprived of her crayon (tossed out by Marina k chertyam sobach'im, to hell's hounds" (151).

"Norbert von Miller" (440) -- mentioned earlier by Marina on p. 261.

"Kim who would have bothered Ada again had he not been carried out of his cottage with one eye hanging on a red thread and the other drowned in its blood" (441) -- so Van did blind Kim after all. (That Van actively did this -- that Kim wasn't just a casualty of coincidence like Percy and Rack -- is confirmed at the end of the chapter.) Boyd, in The Place of Consciousness, makes much of the fact that this gruesome detail is mentioned almost in passing and could easily be overlooked in a book with so many lurid incidental details. To fully grasp the nastiness of Van's character, we must pay attention.

"his father had made himself up as Boris Godunov" (443) -- an play by Pushkin titled "Boris Godunov" was adapted by Mussorgsky into an opera, so this calls back to the bad Eugene Onegin adaptation Demon watches in Part 1 Ch. 2.

"My first is a vehicle that twists dead daisies around its spokes; my second is Oldmanhattan slang for 'money' " (444) -- a "van" is certainly a vehicle, though I can't find anything online about "veen" as slang for money.

"My second is also the meeting place of two steep slopes." (444) -- "ravine"?

"Right-hand lower drawer of my practically unused new desk -- which is quite as big as Dad’s, with Sig’s compliments." (444) -- this Freud joke is one of the several details in this passage that remind us of Aqua's suicide.

"Then, standing before a closet mirror, he put the automatic to his head, at the point of the pterion, and pressed the comfortably concaved trigger. Nothing happened -- or perhaps everything happened, and his destiny simply forked at that instant, as it probably does sometimes at night, especially in a strange bed, at stages of great happiness or great desolation, when we happen to die in our sleep, but continue our normal existence, with no perceptible break in the faked serialization, on the following, neatly prepared morning, with a spurious past discreetly but firmly attached behind. Anyway, what he held in his right hand was no longer a pistol but a pocket comb which he passed through his hair at the temples." (445) -- moment of instability! In the poem Pale Fire, the phrase "[And here time forked.]" appears shortly before Hazel Shade's suicide. In this passage the idea of forking time is used to illustrate a suicide attempt that Van doesn't go through with. But is that all? The idea of changing to a different time track, in which Van is holding a comb rather than a gun, could just be a colorful way of saying that Van putting down the gun. But given the resonances of madness that have build up in the course of this chapter -- and Van's enduring interest in the nature of time -- this could well be more literal than that. One interpretation is that the rest of the book from hereon out is fantasy, and the novel is an elaborate suicide note.

"There are other possible forkings and continuations that occur to the dream-mind, but these will do." (446) -- elaboration of the earlier moment of instability, and a return of the "dream" motif that taunts the reader throughout Ada. On one level, this could be a simple statement that Van is ready to end the chapter (and Part 2) rather than ramble about further in an effectively inexhaustible trove of relevant memories. If we want to adopt something like the "suicide note" theory, this is instead a statement that other alternative futures -- in which Van does not commit suicide -- can be imagined, but the one he has started to sketch here (in which he blinds Kim, is reunited with Ada, etc.) "will do" -- and indeed it forms the basis of the remainder of the novel.

Time has moved more quickly in each successive section of Ada. Part 1 covers four years and takes up half the book. Part 2 does five years in half that length. Now Part 3 Ch. 1 fast-forwards through seven years of Van's life in a few pages. As a reader, it's easy to forget just how much time is elapsing here, and it can be illuminating to remind oneself of it. For instance, the meeting with Greg and Cordula in Ch. 2 seems like a relatively minor scene, not too different from many of the earlier scenes involving secondary characters -- but it is only the second event (after Marina's death) in seven years that Van has deemed worthy of relating in any detail! The most obvious explanation for this is that Greg and Cordula are people he remembers from his Ardis days, and so they are important to him -- and to the central story of this book -- in a way that many of the events of this period were not. (Moreover, it is Greg who tells Van that Lucette is in town, and thus precipitates his much more significant meeting with her.) I also wonder, though, whether Van's feelings for Cordula aren't deeper than he has let on (which would explain that defensive [?] "Cordula was not dull" earlier).

"Three elements, fire, water, and air, destroyed, in that sequence, Marina, Lucette, and Demon. Terra waited." (450) -- another suggestion that Van and/or Ada are destined to end up on Terra ("You’ll live to reach Terra, and come back a wiser and merrier man" [241]).

"She rode it twice. Their brisk nub and its repetition lasted fifteen minutes in all, not five." (457) -- as before with Cordula, the language here is blunt and unromantic.

"Invitation to a Climax" (459) -- this parody of the title of another VN novel invites one to think about "beheading" as a metaphor for male orgasm.

"For a minute he stood behind her, sideways to remembrance and reader (as she, too, was in regard to us and the bar), the crook of his silk-swathed cane lifted in profile almost up to his mouth. . . . a natural masterpiece incomparably finer and younger than the portrait of the similarily [sic] postured lousy jade with her Parisian gueule de guenon on the vile poster painted by that wreck of an artist for Ovenman" (460-1) -- this description of Van standing behind Lucette is meant to remind us of a famous Toulouse-Lautrec poster.

" ' . . I’m like Dolores—when she says she’s "only a picture painted on air." ' 'Never could finish that novel -- much too pretentious.' " (464) -- a joke about Lolita, of course. The phrase "only a picture painted on air" doesn't get any Google hits that aren't related to Ada, incidentally.

"It’s safer and faster by plane" (465) -- as far as I can tell, this is the first mention of planes on Antiterra. (Flight of some sort has always been possible there, however, by means of the "jikkers.") Planes appeared earlier in Aqua's visions of Terra: "she saw giant flying sharks with lateral eyes taking barely one night to carry pilgrims through black ether across an entire continent from dark to shining sea" (21), so this is one indication that (because of the temporal discrepancy between the two worlds) Terran visions can actually foretell what will happen on Antiterra. Several details in this chapter and the next seem to indicate that electricity has recently been unbanned (another noted feature of Terra was that electricity was used freely).

"I have an important, important telephone call to make, but I don’t want you to listen" (466) -- "telephone," not "dorophone," since they're using electricity now.

" 'That’s rich,' said Lucette, 'you’ve gone far enough with me on several occasions, even when I was a kid; your refusing to go further is a mere quibble on your part; and besides, besides you’ve been unfaithful to her with a thousand girls, you dirty cheat!' " (467) -- this all seems pretty undeniable . . . indeed, as I said above, Van's refusal to become involved with Lucette has grown to seem almost perverse given the rest of his personality.

"What was he? Who was he? Why was he? He thought of his slackness, clumsiness, dereliction of spirit." (471) -- both the introspection and the self-criticism in this chapter are utterly atypical of Van, though it wasn't until I encountered them here that I realized just how absent they've been from the preceding 470 pages.

"In his sadder moments, as now, he attributed at least part of his 'success' to his rank, to his wealth, to the numerous donations, which (in a kind of extension of his overtipping the haggard beggars who cleaned rooms, manned lifts, smiled in hotel corridors) he kept showering upon worthwhile institutions and students." (471-2) -- this, for instance, is startling. Until this point, money has very rarely entered Van's thinking (except when e.g. he tells Demon that he isn't financially dependent on him because of his inheritance from Aqua), and his judgments of value have tended to align frictionlessly with the striations of aristocratic rank (e.g. Cordula, whom he doesn't much respect, is "quite a notch below our set" [330], to say nothing of the way he treats various servants, maids, etc). It's hard to imagine the entitled, amoral Van we know agonizing over whether he really deserves his success (if that is indeed what is happening here).

10. Rolling in the Deep (Part 3, Chapters 5-8)

GENERAL REMARKS (Part 3, Chs. 5-8)

Interviewer: There seem to be similarities in the rhythm and tone of Speak, Memory and Ada, and in the way you and Van retrieve the past in images. Do you both work along similar lines?

Nabokov: The more gifted and talkative one's characters are, the greater the chances of their resembling the author in tone or tint of mind. It is a familiar embarrassment that I face with very faint qualms, particularly since I am not really aware of any special similarities -- just as one is not aware of sharing mannerisms with a detestable kinsman. I loathe Van Veen.

(Source: 1969 interview with Time magazine)

Things are starting to become clear -- at least in a sense.

Lucette's death in Part 3 Ch. 5 is arguably the central scene of the book, and it rearranges our conception of everything around it. Lucette begins to seem more important than she had originally seemed (in this book entitled "Ada" -- not "The Veens," which was one of Nabokov's working titles). There is a reality to her plight and Van's shame in that chapter that is lacking in many of the Ada scenes, particularly in the unconvincing and artificial reunion with Ada that follows in Part 3 Ch. 8. Moreover, much of the book's thematic skeleton seems to have radiated outward from Lucette's death rather than from anything having to do with Ada.

Consider, for instance, the influence of Lucette's watery death on Part 1 Chapter 3, in which Van first begins to explicitly lay out the nature of Antiterra. Van's putative mother, really his aunt (just as Lucette is merely a half-sister), named Aqua, encounters a series of comedically negligent psychologists and kills herself by taking an overdose of pills. In Aqua's vision of Terra, people freely use electricity, but on Antiterra electricity is banned, and the only consequence that is mentioned with any frequency over the course of the book is the banning of telephones -- such as the electric telephone on which Van has his shameful conversation with Lucette just before her death. (They have been replaced with devices that use water.) The chapter opens with the sentence:

"The details of the L disaster (and I do not mean Elevated) in the beau milieu of last century, which had the singular effect of both causing and cursing the notion of 'Terra,' are too well-known historically, and too obscene spiritually, to be treated at length in a book addressed to young laymen and lemans -- and not to grave men or gravemen." (17)

Electricity is banned (which pretty much means "telephones are banned") because of "the L disaster" -- and now we can be pretty sure what that "L" really stands for! The book is addressed to "lemans" (lovers) rather than "gravemen": Van is saying that he plans to write about the love between him and Ada, not the grave matter of Lucette's death. But as we know, Van can't seem to keep either death or Lucette from intruding into his chronicle. By Part 3 the original plan seems to have derailed, and in Part 3 Ch. 5 the book reaches its climax in, yes, a "treatment at length" of "the details of the L disaster."

"Gravemen" brings Hamlet to mind, which in turn brings to mind Van's comparison of Lucette to Ophelia. Van's refusal to sleep with Lucette is indeed kind of Hamlet-like. Van explains his behavior not as assumed madness but as a supposed concern for Lucette's own well-being. But this concern clashes with the amoral and sexually uninhibited nature of the Van Veen we have known so far, and ends up seeming as strange as Hamlet's behavior. One could say that Van's interactions with Ada are over-analyzed, and his interactions with Lucette are under-analyzed. My hunch is that the latter are more true to life, and that Van's relentless "concern" for Lucette makes more sense in some real context which he does not deign to give us, instead turning away from Lucette again and again to focus on Ada.

Compared to the intensity and reality of the Tobakoff chapter, the scenes with Ada that close out Part 3 are thin, dull, and artificial. The sense of unreality is heightened by the mentions of "life forking" and Van's fake death. Even by the rather unreal standards set up in earlier V&A scenes, these interactions feel out-of-character: Ada is saddled with some very un-Ada-esque lines ("The poor, poor little man! How dare you sneer?" [530]), while Van's lines are jarringly corny ("Castle True, Castle Bright! Helen of Troy, Ada of Ardis! You have betrayed the Tree and the Moth!" [ibid]). Plausibility -- even plausibility of Van Veen's peculiar sort -- is fraying at the seams; Van's heart just doesn't seem to be in this anymore. The book is almost over, and we know that Van and Ada will (at last!) be reunited by the end . . . but with so little of the book left, there is no hope that this reunion will be a romantic triumph rather than a shambling, perfunctory stumble across the finish line.

Given the significance of telephones in Ada, I'm inclined to think that Van's phone conversation with Lucette might be the very center of the book:

"No doubt he was morally right in using the first pretext at hand to keep her away from his bed; but he also knew, as a gentleman and an artist, that the lump of words he brought up was trite and cruel, and it was only because she could not accept him as being either, that she believed him: 'Mozhno pridti teper' (can I come now)?” asked Lucette. 'Ya ne odin (I’m not alone),' answered Van. A small pause followed; then she hung up." (491)

"I'm not alone" -- the lie that is at the root of all of Van's shame? It's this kind of thinking that leads me to my favorite theory of Ada: that Van only had one sister, who was basically Lucette. Ada Veen, Van's perfect double, is an invention made to justify statements like that "I'm not alone," when in reality Van is alone with only his shame over Lucette's death as company. ("Lucette" comes from "Lucile," the name of Chateaubriand's beloved sister. "Ada" is a palindrome, a mathematical contrivance, a mere mirror-flipping of the Vs in "Van Veen" -- and born from Van's torment ["of hell"].)

NOTES

"Professor Counterstone" (474) -- play on "Antiterra" (stone/earth).

"His gaze, traveling on, tripped over Dr. Ivan Veen and pulled up at the next name. What constricted his heart? Why did he pass his tongue over his thick lips? Empty formulas befitting the solemn novelists of former days who thought they could explain everything." (475) -- an interesting twist on the "old novels" motif. Ada as a whole presents itself as a man's self-conscious attempt to cram his life story into the conventions of "old novels," and now here is a detail that he feels he can't fit into the mold.

"Van interrupted Lucette’s nervous patter by asking her if her bath taps bore the same inscriptions as his: Hot Domestic, Cold Salt. Yes, she cried, Old Salt, Old Salzman, Ardent Chambermaid, Comatose Captain!" (477) -- huh?

"To most of the Tobakoff’s first-class passengers the afternoon of June 4, 1901, in the Atlantic, on the meridian of Iceland and the latitude of Ardis, seemed little conducive to open-air frolics: the fervor of its cobalt sky kept being cut by glacial gusts" (477) -- could be a reflection of the Antiterran climate getting colder at the latitude of Ardis. Then again, it could just be a cold day.

"Spring in Fialta and a torrid May on Minataor, the famous artificial island, had given a nectarine hue to her limbs" (477) -- "Spring in Fialta" is the title of a famous Nabokov story. Note also "Pale Fire with Tom Cox Up" (477).

"Van peeled off his jersey and stayed on for a while, brooding, fingering the little green-gemmed case with five Rosepetal cigarettes, trying to enjoy the heat of the platinum sun in its aura of “film-color” but only managing to fan, with every shiver and heave of the ship, the fire of evil temptation." (482) -- temptation here is "evil" . . . strange how normally dissolute Van hews to something like a moral principle in this one case, with no clear motivation and with disastrous consequences. Why?

"He discovered an insidious omission in his galleys where an entire line was wanting, with the vitiated paragraph looking, however, quite plausible -- to an automatic reader -- since the truncated end of one sentence, and the lower-case beginning of the other, now adjacent, fitted to form a syntactically correct passage" (484) -- since the book we are reading is an incompletely edited manuscript, the suggestion seems to be that this sort of insidious error might also be present in it. Maddening!

"had he not recollected (a recollection confirmed by his typescript) that at this point should have come a rather apt, all things considered, quotation: Insiste, anime meus, et adtende fortiter (courage, my soul and press on strongly)." (484) -- from Augustine's Confessions. Seems to underscore how out-of-character Van's stoicism is, since Van and Augustine are normally polar opposites in many respects (e.g. self-esteem).

"It’s crowded and gay down there, with a masturbating jazzband." (484) -- amusing nod to the origins of the word "jazz."

"As he gloomily looked at her thin bare shoulders, so mobile and tensile that one wondered if she could not cross them in front of her like stylized angel wings" (485) -- interesting parallel to Demon's wings. Remember that Lucette, unlike Van and Ada, doesn't have "demon blood."

"He could describe her dress only as struthious (if there existed copper-curled ostriches)" (486) -- struthious: "of or relating to the ostriches and related birds." You learn something new every day.

"Dolores, a dancing girl (lifted from Osberg’s novella, as was to be proved in the ensuing lawsuit)" (488) -- recall that on Antiterra, Osberg (anagram of Borges) is the author of a book that resembles Lolita.

One can probably a lot of interpretive mileage out of "Don Juan's Last Fling," the movie that Van and Lucette watch. Low-hanging fruit: is Van (rhymes with Don) himself sort of a combination of Don Juan and Don Quixote, like the protagonist of DJLF?

"In a series of sixty-year-old actions which now I can grind into extinction only by working on a succession of words until the rhythm is right, I, Van, retired to my bathroom, shut the door (it swung open at once, but then closed of its own accord)and using a temporary expedient less far-fetched than that hit upon by Father Sergius (who chops off the wrong member in Count Tolstoy’s famous anecdote), vigorously got rid of the prurient pressure as he had done the last time seventeen years ago." (490) -- both first and third person appear here in the same sentence, perhaps a sign of Van's state of agitation while writing this passage. I'm not sure what "succession of words" he's referring to. Is there a rhyme in this sentence or somewhere in the surrounding passages?

"He welcomed the thought which suddenly seemed so absolutely true, and new, and as lividly real as the slowly widening gap of the sitting room’s doorway, namely, that on the morrow (which was at least, and at best, seventy years away) he would explain to Lucette, as a philosopher and another girl’s brother, that he knew how agonizing and how absurd it was to put all one’s spiritual fortune on one physical fancy and that his plight closely resembled hers, but that he managed, after all, to live, to work, and not pine away because he refused to wreck her life with a brief affair and because Ada was still a child." (491) -- the similarity of Van and Lucette's situations is interesting. As an excuse for not becoming involved with Lucette, this is pretty transparently feeble, since Van is still so clearly invested in getting back together with Ada.

"At that point the surface of logic began to be affected by a ripple of sleep, but he sprang back into full consciousness at the sound of the telephone." (491) -- if Van invented Antiterra, then it's possible that stye presence of telephones (not dorophones!) at several important moments late in the book, such as this one, gave Van the idea that telephones should be banned in the earlier parts of the story. (Remember that telephones were banned on account of something called "the L disaster." It's now becoming quite clear what that "L" probably stands for.)

"No doubt he was morally right in using the first pretext at hand to keep her away from his bed; but he also knew, as a gentleman and an artist, that the lump of words he brought up was trite and cruel, and it was only because she could not accept him as being either, that she believed him: 'Mozhno pridti teper’ (can I come now)?' asked Lucette. 'Ya ne odin (I’m not alone),' answered Van." (491) -- seems like a crucial moment, perhaps the seed of the many earlier descriptions of Van and Ada's unique similarity, symmetry, etc. This shameful statement can perhaps be vindicated if Van is somehow always not alone, because of the very existence of his double/twin/soul mate.

"Dimanche. Déjeuner sur l’herbe. Tout le monde pue. Ma belle-mère avale son râtelier. Sa petite chienne" (493) -- Darkbloom: "Sunday. Lunch on thé grass. Everybody sticks. My mother-in-law swallows her dentures. Her little bitch, etc. After which, etc. (see p. 375, a painter's diary Lucette has been reading)" [my copy says 375, which by our pagination here should be around 479-80, but I'm not sure if that's right?]

"Although Lucette had never died before—no, dived before, Violet" (493) -- "Violet" appears to be Van's typist. Their interactions have been typed verbatim in this passage -- why?

"As she began losing track of herself, she thought it proper to inform a series of receding Lucettes—telling them to pass it on and on in a trick-crystal regression—that what death amounted to was only a more complete assortment of the infinite fractions of solitude." (494) -- good sentence; cf. Van's "I'm not alone." Interesting and unnerving that Van has made up the experiences related here, since he can't possibly know Lucette's actual final thoughts.

"She did not see her whole life flash before her as we all were afraid she might have done; the red rubber of a favorite doll remained safely decomposed among the myosotes of an unanalyzable brook" (494) -- reference to the brook scene in Part 1 Ch. 23. Of course the doll swept away by the current foreshadows the means of Lucette's death. Boyd, who seems to have taken that "unanalyzable" as a challenge, devotes much of The Place of Consciousness to the doll scene and its echoes.

"As a psychologist, I know the unsoundness of speculations as to whether Ophelia would not have drowned herself after all, without the help of a treacherous sliver, even if she had married her Voltemand." (497) -- the replacement of Hamlet by Voltemand (an ambassador and very minor character in Hamlet) is a reference to Van's use of Voltemand as a pseudonym.

"In other more deeply moral worlds than this pellet of muck, there might exist restraints, principles, transcendental consolations, and even a certain pride in making happy someone one does not really love; but on this planet Lucettes are doomed." (498) -- important for the Terra/Antiterra divide.

"Cher ami [etc.]" (499) -- the Darkbloom notes translate Cordula's entire letter (which is in French -- why?): "Dear friend, my husband and I, were deeply upset by the frightful news. It was to me - and this I'll always remember - that practically on the eve of her death the poor girl addressed herself to arrange things on the Tobakoff, which is always crowded and which from now on I'll never take again, slightly out of superstition and very much out of sympathy for gentle, tender Lucette. I had been so happy to do all I could, as somebody had told me that you would be there too. Actually, she said so herself; she seemed so joyful to spend a few days on the upper deck with her dear cousin! The psychology of suicide is a mystery that no scientist can explain. I have never shed so many tears, it almost makes me drop my pen. We return to Malbrook around mid-August. Yours ever." There is a very Nabokovian twist to the statement "the psychology of suicide is a mystery that no scientist can explain" -- it sounds like a banal commonplace at first, but in fact Van's inability to foresee Lucette's suicide is a major source of shame.

"[This letter] would not have been written at all if your last line, your cry of unhappiness, were not my cry of triumph." (500) -- the "last line" in question is "I cannot express, dear Van, how unhappy I am, the more so as we never learned in the arbors of Ardis that such unhappiness could exist." Why is this a "triumph" for Van? Simply because it is a restatement of the supposed Edenic innocence of Ardis?

"Artistically, and ardisiacally, the best moment is one of the last" (500) -- cf. the much more opaque "esthetically, ecstatically, Estotially speaking" (30).

"And o’er the summits of the Tacit / He, banned from Paradise, flew on: / Beneath him, like a brilliant’s facet, / Mount Peck with snows eternal shone." (502) -- Darkbloom: "parody of four lines in Lermontov's The Demon."

No clue what to make of the strange "Andrey Vaynlender" letter.

"Mont Roux" (508) -- a version of Montreux, the region of Switzerland where Nabokov lived while writing this novel. "Roux" means red, so this might be a Lucette reference?

"Vrubel’s wonderful picture of Father, those demented diamonds staring at me, painted into me." (509) -- refers to Vrubel's paintings of the titular figure from Lermontov's poem "Demon." (See e.g. "Demon Seated in a Garden.".) "Demented" resonates with the early identification of "Demon" as "a form of Demian or Dementius" (4).

"and on the opposite shore of Leman, Leman meaning Lover, loomed the crest of Sex (Scex) Noir, Black Rock." (509) -- cf. the first sentence of Part 1 Ch. 3: "The details of the L disaster (and I do not mean Elevated) in the beau milieu of last century, which had the singular effect of both causing and cursing the notion of 'Terra,' are too well-known historically, and too obscene spiritually, to be treated at length in a book addressed to young laymen and lemans -- and not to grave men or gravemen." (17)

"A dead and dry hummingbird moth lay on the window ledge of the lavatory. Thank goodness, symbols did not exist either in dreams or in the life in between." (510) -- cf. "You have betrayed the Tree and the Moth!" (530)

"His reply was inept, and the whole episode had a faint paramnesic tang—and next instant Van was shot dead from behind (such things happen, some tourists are very unbalanced) and stepped into his next phase of existence." (510) -- what the fuck? Perhaps Van is simply contending, in jest, that another meeting with Ada could not happen except in heaven and thus that he must be dead. But this is also another intimation of unreality, or potential reality, like the mention of "life forking" at the end of Part 2 and at the end of this chapter.

"cygneous" (511) -- "curved like the neck of a swan." Cf. Lucette's "struthious" dress.

"As Andrey’s crumpled forlorn face came closer, one could distinguish various wartlets and lumps, none of them, however, placed in the one-sided jaunty position of his kid sister’s naric codicil." (513) -- "naric": "of or relating to the nares [the pair of openings of the nose or nasal cavity]." So a "naric codicil" would be a sort of "supplement" to the nasal openings.

"During that dismal dinner (enlivened only by the sharlott and five bottles of Moët, out of which Van consumed more than three) he avoided looking at that part of Ada which is called “the face”—a vivid, divine, mysteriously shocking part, which, in that essential form, is rarely met with among human beings (pasty and warty marks do not count)." (516) -- good sentence.

"(A pause.)" (517) -- Darkbloom: "This and the whole conversation parody Chekhov's mannerisms."

"in my works, I try not to ‘explain’ anything, I merely describe." (519) -- perhaps applicable to Ada itself, Van's final "work."

"and then he pounced upon her new, young, divine, Japanese neck which he had been coveting like a veritable Jupiter Olorinus throughout the evening." (520) -- Darkbloom: "Olorinus: from Lat. olor, swan (Leda's lover)."

"Somebody said, wheeling a table nearby: “It’s one of the Vane sisters,” and he awoke murmuring with professional appreciation the oneiric word-play combining his name and surname" (521) -- reference to "The Vane Sisters," a famous Nabokov story in which the first letters of the words in the final paragraph carry an acrostic message from the beyond.

"Rufomonticulus" (522) -- presumably the Latin name of Mont Roux.

"Then a robed person who looked like an extra in a technicolor incarnation of Vishnu made an incomprehensible sermon." (523) -- cool sentence.

" 'Ne ricane pas!' exclaimed Ada. 'The poor, poor little man! How dare you sneer?' " (530) -- this whole exchange, though presented as a kind of tragic culmination of Van-Ada exchanges (e.g. with the recapitulation of the "Qui me rendra" stuff), seems oddly out-of-character: Van's lines are self-parodically Romantic while Ada's are unusually simple and banal.

"As had been peculiar to his nature even in the days of his youth, Van was apt to relieve a passion of anger and disappointment by means of bombastic and arcane utterances which hurt like a jagged fingernail caught in satin, the lining of Hell." (530) -- good sentence!

" 'Castle True, Castle Bright!' he now cried, 'Helen of Troy, Ada of Ardis! You have betrayed the Tree and the Moth!' " (531) -- the Tree might be the Shattal Tree, or perhaps the tree that Ada stands with her back to in Part 1 Ch. 39 (p. 272), and which later forms an integral part of the agonizing image of her that Van carries away with him when he leaves Ardis in 1888. The Moth could be one of the various moths Ada enthuses about at Ardis in 1884, or the dead moth mentioned earlier in this chapter?

"Ardis the First, Ardis the Second, Tanned Man in a Hat, and now Mount Russet" (530) -- V&A's two summers in Ardis (1884 and 1888), their time in Manhattan, and now their rendezvous in Mont Roux.

"Ach, perestagne!" (530) -- intentionally or not, this provides a new variant: "Ach, perestagne" replaces "Et ma montagne" (138).

"Life forked and reforked." (531) -- this again.

11. And Much, Much More (Part 4 to Part 5, Chapter 6)

GENERAL REMARKS (Part 4 to Part 5, Ch. 6)

If Van Veen were to record a hip-hop album -- under the name "Mascodegama," of course -- it would be titled "The Texture of Rhyme." Possible subject matter: being the youngest Venutian, blinding Kim Beauharnais, the important difference between his own sick flow and the non-passage of Pure Time . . .

So now we've come to the end. There is all kinds of weird stuff going on Part 4 and Part 5. First we have Van's philosophical treatise (which espouses views very close to Nabokov's own and seems to have been intended as an attempt at serious philosophical writing, however silly much of it may strike me and various other readers). Then we have Part 6: a bizarre, at times rapturous but just as often petty and underwhelming account of Van and Ada's last years together.

What should we make of the fact that, faced with decades of romantic satisfaction to describe, Van tells us about the bodily annoyances of old age and the charms of his cute typist (and the "gipsy girl" next door)? Is he simply asserting that his and Ada's connection is ineffable, mystical, impossible to explain to non-Vaniadans? (Whereof Van cannot speak, thereof he must be silent? Ada's final line in Part 4 supports this interpretation, if we take the entirety of Part 5 to be the completion of her sentence "It is like -- ": Vaniadan experience is as ineffable as Time.) Or is Van giving up, pencilling in the very crudest sketch of a "happily ever after" ending that he knows is totally unconvincing? His suggestion that he has regained the earliest days of Ardis -- "Their life together responded antiphonally to their first summer in 1884" (574) -- is belied by the formal design of the novel, as Part 5 is the shortest of the Parts, the most sparing with detail. Time's arrow remains undefeated. How can he be so vague when describing recent months when he was so fantastically precise about stuff that happened when he was 14? Is this how memory really works? Surely not.

We are adrift. What on (anti-)earth did we just read? The hilarious ending, in which Van (?) imagines a blurb that sells Ada as a work of grand entertainment, simply underscores how far we are from anything resembling an ordinary novel. The text seems to be Van's attempt to squeeze his life story into the novel format (specifically, into the form of a big, dramatic Russian classic like Anna Karenina). There are numerous indications that he is willing to go to great lengths of invention. It is pretty much impossible to take the story straight; it continually pokes and prods the reader with its own implausibility, instability, inconsistency ("Abraham Milton / Milton Abraham / Lincoln"). In some tricky novels there is a clear "standard model" from which one can defiantly deviate (e.g., in Pale Fire, the various "Shade invented Kinbote or vice versa" theories are replacements for the basic interpretation of the book that any ordinary reader comes to, in which S and K are real, distinct people). Ada, by contrast, has no stable top layer -- and perhaps no bottom. As readers we have to figure out what in Van's story is real and what is invented. But to do so, we must speculate about the psychology of the "real Van" -- and that psychology will depend on our opinions about what is real and what is invented!

An ideal start for someone contemplating these problems is David Auerbach's blog post "Kinbote Triumphant in Hell: The Riddle of Nabokov’s Ada." It's where I've gotten a lot of my own ideas about the book, like the significance of Lucette's last call. I'll just quote a few paragraphs here:

I won’t attempt to figure out precisely what is real and what is not in the book because I don’t think I stand much of a chance, but I will make some broad guesses. I am inclined to be extremely skeptical of the mostly unchronicled decades of happiness with Ada, as well as of the success of Van’s book. The happier the events, the more dubious I am. The tragic events–Lucette’s death being the central one–most likely hold greater reality. Ada’s intrusions throughout, but especially at the end of the book, seem more likely to be a voice within Van, not an actual person. I think it highly unlikely that Van and Ada are ever happily reunited. Nabokov did not intend to redeem Van Veen through suffering, but particularly in the later novels, Nabokov’s rotten characters do tend to be spared any real happiness. I strongly suspect that to be the case here. The idyllic, hermetic, and very long Part 1 is a pastiche or a parody of the 19th century Russian novel. Inverting Tolstoy’s maxim turns it into a joke. Hence from the beginning Van is protecting himself and not being straight, and the offputting nature of the whole text is a reflection of Van’s solipsism. He is building a sealed coffin for himself that he intends no one to penetrate. He will avoid unpleasantness as much as possible, even at the cost of making himself unpleasant. With each subsequent section things get more miserable, the length gets shorter, and different strategies of avoidance are invoked. The late years of happiness with Ada are more likely years of self-torture, any success in love or life a delusion on Van’s part. By Part 4, he has abandoned plot in favor of mere allusions to wish-fulfillment and philosophical self-indulgence. At his supposed happiest he is least able to describe anything that happened to him.

(Auerbach ends up speculating that the text might actually have been written by Andrey Vinelander, which strikes me as almost uniquely unlikely . . . )

Ada is my favorite Nabokov novel, and probably tied for my favorite novel overall. In the end, it's one of the darkest and creepiest novels I've ever read, precisely because of the bottomlessness of its potential horror. Other books tell us about nasty characters and nasty situations; this one merely shows us a bunch of fanciful wishful thinking and leaves us to guess the real situation from which it is as escape (with plenty of suggestive references to hell, in case we need some general pointers). It is a closed system, standing securely upon its own head, self-contained, self-referential, self-possessed. There is a risk in this. The book is purely itself, and Van is purely himself, from the first page to the last. It does not provide a convenient ledge on which the author and reader can congregate and snicker at the far-off characters. It's written in third person (because that's how Van wrote it); there is no voice there untouched by Van's, no world untainted by Antiterra. As Auerbach puts it:

. . . we don’t see anything pushing back against Van Veen. All opposing forces tend to dissolve away sooner or later. The marshaling of fantasy to defy reality becomes a structuring principle of the book even to the point of alienating readers from it, lest they crack open Van’s coffin and discover his secrets. Where there is little reality, there is little sympathy to be had, hence the uninvolving nature of so many of the characters, not least Van himself. While Van puts up a good front to a point, ultimately he knows he’s not fooling anyone with his “happy family chronicle.” What starts off in Part 5 as the joyous introduction ends with solipsistic torment in a self-fashioned hell. And what better analogy for a solipsistic world than incest?

Or, as Martin Amis puts it, under the impression that he is criticizing the book rather than pointing out one of its design features:

And then, too, with Ada, there is something altogether alien – a sense of monstrous entitlement, of unbridled, head-in-air seigneurism. Morally, this is the world for which the twisted Humbert thirsts: a world where "nothing matters", and "everything is allowed".

But I love the closed system of Ada because it feels real, in the sense that it feels psychologically authentic. People really do create great systems of private associations like this; people really do neurotically rearrange and sanitize their memories like this. We all have it within us to fetishize the past like this, to take a few key moments and make of them an Ardis that exerts a grotesque influence on our lives -- one which ends up having less and less to do with real arbors or Adas. And when we do this it is not simple or straightforward; it is not pleasant to read about; it is the kind of convoluted, obsessive, opaque, obscure personal mythology that Auerbach calls "uninviting" and that we find all throughout Ada.

And of course the book is gorgeously written -- in a way that is often obscure but never feels obscurantist. I remember one reviewer saying that they enjoyed every sentence in Ada, even the ones they didn't understand; this seems to apply more generally to every aspect of the book. Even when I have no clue what he's doing, I never feel like Nabokov is just trying to fuck with me. Every element of the closed system is authentic, on the unique terms of that system.

The final words of the book are a characteristically brilliant flourish: Nabokov finishes off his hilarious parody of ad copy by repurposing an advertising cliche -- "and much, much more" -- so as to lend it a new meaning that is stunning, moving, and even terrifying in a sort of Lovecraft way. How many strange and unsettling details this book contains! How many the reader must undoubtedly have missed! (The blurb encourages the reader to go back and re-read.) This book teems. "And much, much more" -- too much! Too much!

To remind us that there's always (much, much) more to discover, I'll let the master have the final word -- and in the process claim "loathed" Van Veen as one of his "favorites" (?):

I wonder if there is really so much doom and "frustration" in my fiction? Humbert is frustrated, that’s obvious; some of my other villains are frustrated; police states are horribly frustrated in my novels and stories; but my favorite creatures, my resplendent characters -- in The Gift, in Invitation to a Beheading, in Ada, in Glory, et cetera– are victors in the long run. In fact I believe that one day a reappraiser will come and declare that, far from having been a frivolous firebird, I was a rigid moralist kicking sin, cuffing stupidity, ridiculing the vulgar and cruel -- and assigning sovereign power to tenderness, talent, and pride.

(Nabokov, interviewed for Bayerischer Rundfunk, 1971)

(Okay, okay. One last thing from me. The book opens with the following note: "With the exception of Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Oranger, a few incidental figures, and some non-American citizens, all the persons mentioned by name in this book are dead. [Ed.]" Who are these "non-American citizens"? The phrasing seems to imply that they are not "incidental figures," yet I can't think of any characters of any importance, besides the Orangers, who might have outlived the Veens.)

NOTES

"novo-sapiens" (536) -- seems like it should be "novus-sapiens," but I guess Nabokov/Van wanted the similarity in sound.

"Man, in that sense, will never die, because there may never be a taxonomical point in his evolutionary progress that could be determined as the last stage of man in the cline turning him into Neohomo, or some horrible, throbbing slime." (536) -- reminiscent of the speculations about quasi-mystical future forms of mankind that were popular in science fiction at the time (e.g. in Arthur C. Clarke's "Childhood's End").

"One can be a lover of Space and its possibilities: take, for example, speed, the smoothness and sword-swish of speed; the aquiline glory of ruling velocity; the joy cry of the curve; and one can be an amateur of Time, an epicure of duration. I delight sensually in Time, in its stuff and spread, in the fall of its folds, in the very impalpability of its grayish gauze, in the coolness of its continuum." (537) -- nice passage.

"Aurelius Augustinus" (537) -- Saint Augustine, whose discussions of the conscious experience of time are similar to Van's.

"The direction of Time, the ardis of Time, one-way Time, here is something that looks useful to me one moment, but dwindles the next to the level of an illusion obscurely related to the mysteries of growth and gravitation." (538) -- and yet the directionality of time has been one of the main themes of the whole book. Van gives up the game when he uses the word "ardis." Maybe he doesn't intend irreversibility to fall within the scope of this treatise, but when that treatise is written as an account of his journey toward his final and lasting reunion with Ada, surely irreversibility can't be truly irrelevant . . . ?

"The irreversibility of Time (which is not heading anywhere in the first place) is a very parochial affair: had our organs and orgitrons not been asymmetrical, our view of Time might have been amphitheatric and altogether grand, like ragged night and jagged mountains around a small, twinkling, satisfied hamlet." (538-9) -- or, in cross-section, something like a "V" shape.

"But beware, anime meus, of the marcel wave of fashionable art; avoid the Proustian bed and the assassin pun (itself a suicide -- as those who know their Verlaine will note)." (540) -- a flurry of spurious references (Augustine, Proust, Procrustes, Verlaine) that seems intended to warn by example: puns and allusions will get you nowhere in this business, no matter how fun they are. Darkbloom: "assassin pun: a pun on pointe assassine (from a poem by Verlaine)."

"We, poor Spatians, are better adapted, in our three-dimensional Lacrimaval" (541) -- for "Lacrimaval" Google only turns up full text versions of Ada. Presumably it's a version of "Vale of Tears."

" 'Space is a swarming in the eyes, and Time a singing in the ears,' says John Shade, a modern poet, as quoted by an invented philosopher ('Martin Gardiner') in The Ambidextrous Universe, page 165." (542) -- an Antiterran reversal of the real fact that, on Terra, Martin Gardner (not "Gardiner" as in the text) quoted John Shade in his book The Ambidextrous Universe. The appearance of John Shade (invented poet from Pale Fire) as a real person in Antiterra is Nabokovian fan service along the same lines as Professor Pnin's cameo appearance at at the university in Pale Fire.

"Minkowski" (542) -- mathematician who contributed to special relativity and first introduced the modern/relativistic version of four-dimensional space-time.

"At this point, I suspect, I should say something about my attitude to 'Relativity.' It is not sympathetic. What many cosmogonists tend to accept as an objective truth is really the flaw inherent in mathematics which parades as truth." (543) -- astonishingly, Nabokov himself actually believed this. ("While not having much physics, I reject Einstein's slick formulae; but then one need not know theology to be an atheist." [1968 BBC interview]) Since he loved mimicry and other trickery in biology, it's surprising that he didn't see the same appeal in the way that the strangeness of relativistic space-time hides behind a nicely intuitive Newtonian veil until one gets close to light speed.

"Alice in the Camera Obscura" (547) -- seems to be a mixture of "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland" and "Camera Obscura," the original title of the Nabokov novel usually called "Laughter in the Dark." Also an allusion to Kim taking pictures of Ada? Another example of shifting Antiterran names, since on p. 53 the Antiterran equivalent of Carroll's book was "Palace in Wonderland." (See also "Ada in Wonderland" [127], "Ada's Adventures in Adaland" [568] -- which leads us to conclude that Van is working from something like the actual earthly title, since where else could he have gotten that "Adventures" from?)

"Dr. Froid of Signy-Mondieu-Mondieu" (549) -- compare to this from Ch. 3: "A Dr Froid, one of the administerial centaurs, who may have been an émigré brother with a passport-changed name of the Dr Froit of Signy-Mondieu-Mondieu in the Ardennes" (27).

"Now blows the wind of the Present at the top of the Past -- at the top of the passes I have been proud to reach in my life, the Umbrail, the Fluela, the Furka, of my clearest consciousness!" (549) -- as one might expect from context, these are all passes in Switzerland.

"Here they are, the two rocky ruin-crowned hills that I have retained for seventeen years in my mind with decalcomaniac romantic vividness" (551) -- "Decalcomania, from the French décalcomanie, is a decorative technique by which engravings and prints may be transferred to pottery or other materials. Today the shortened version is 'Decal'. " (Wikipedia)

"He transmitted by the new 'instantogram,' flashed to the Geneva airport, a message ending in the last word of her 1905 cable" (552) -- unless I'm missing something, the word is "rainbows"? (508)

"Now it so happened that she had never -- never, at least, in adult life -- spoken to him by phone; hence the phone had preserved the very essence, the bright vibration, of her vocal cords, the little 'leap' in her larynx, the laugh clinging to the contour of the phrase, as if afraid in girlish glee to slip off the quick words it rode." (555) -- another significant telephone call, and another possible source for the banning of telephones -- although this one isn't connected with the "L disaster" in any way I can discern, and the psychological motivation for inventing a ban on telephones would be less clear here.

"lucubratiuncula" (559) -- "The act of working by night; lucubration, nocturnal study, night work." (Wiktionary). Apparently it's a diminutive of another Latin word meaning the same thing? "A little night work"?

" 'To be' means to know one 'has been.' 'Not to be' implies the only 'new' kind of (sham) time: the future. I dismiss it. Life, love, libraries, have no future." (559) -- more Hamlet. Also, I wonder what Van's denial of the existence of the future (expressed here and earlier) has to do with the themes of the novel? Perhaps nothing: at various points in Parts 4 (like the irreversibility comments mentioned above), Van dismisses as irrelevant certain issues that are very relevant to the novel's story, as though Nabokov is trying to tell us that we're supposed to read this as an actual, serious philosophical treatise rather than a thinly veiled expression of personal anxieties. But then it's hard not to deem it significant that these thoughts about the future come right after Ada's departure . . .

"But the future remains aloof from our fancies and feelings. At every moment it is an infinity of branching possibilities." (560-1) -- more of the "forking" motif, though it's not clear to me what this claim has to do with Van's deadpan (though presumably? non-literal) descriptions of branching possibilities earlier in the book.

" 'I told him to turn,' she said, 'somewhere near Morzhey ('morses' or 'walruses,' a Russian pun on 'Morges' -- maybe a mermaid’s message). And you slept, you could sleep!' " (562) -- Darkbloom, uncharacteristically, points out something that should already be clear: "mermaid: allusion to Lucette." Boyd, in The Place of Consciousness, goes wild with this idea and claims that Lucette, acting from beyond the grave, actually told Ada to turn back. He would later espouse an analogous theory of Pale Fire. Yes, according to Brian Boyd that is the secret of both these books: when women commit suicide they come back as ghosts who send the protagonists helpful messages. I'm sorry, but I don't exactly find this kind of thing adds much to the books . . .

"My aim was to compose a kind of novella in the form of a treatise on the Texture of Time, an investigation of its veily substance, with illustrative metaphors gradually increasing, very gradually building up a logical love story, going from past to present, blossoming as a concrete story, and just as gradually reversing analogies and disintegrating again into bland abstraction." (563) -- I might be reckoning this wrong, but my impression is that Part 4 begins the process of "disintegrating again into bland abstraction" after Ada leaves, and the only thing that prevents Van's original plan from running to completion is the eucatastrophic final reunion.

"I wonder if the attempt to discover those things is worth the stained glass. We can know the time, we can know a time. We can never know Time. Our senses are simply not meant to perceive it. It is like -- " (563) -- what is the significance of this? Is Ada completing the "reversal of analogies" by supplying her own analogy, hence completing Van's original plan after all (and thus reconfirming the fundamental unity between Van and Ada)? Is Nabokov inviting us to consider the whole of the following Part 5 as an account of something unknowable? ("It is like [Part 5]"? Or perhaps "it is like [the many years skipped between Parts 4 and 5]"?) IIRC, Look At The Harlequins! ends, with a dash, in the middle of a sentence of dialogue; I wonder if the same is true of some of the Nabokov novels or stories I haven't read.

"This Part Five is not meant as an epilogue; it is the true introduction of my ninety-seven percent true, and three percent likely, Ada or Ardor, a family chronicle." (567) -- interesting choice of proportions. Note how the notion of Part 5 as the "true introduction" works as an instance of the time-reversal motif, and also as a nod to Nabokov's idea that books can only be truly appreciated upon re-reading. Having reached the final Part of Ada or Ardor, the reader is finally ready to be "introduced" to it.

" 'matches the highest forms of human thought—pure mathematics & decipherment' (unpublished ad)." (567) -- though diminished by that "(unpublished ad)," this is an uncharacteristically -- and pleasingly -- positive reference to the pleasures of mathematics, about which Nabokov otherwise had little good to say.

"a spoonful of sodium bicarbonate dissolved in water that was sure to release three or four belches as big as the speech balloons in the “funnies” of his boyhood" (570) -- perhaps meant to recall "the Sunday supplement of a newspaper that had just begun to feature on its funnies page the now long defunct Goodnight Kids, Nicky and Pimpernella (sweet siblings who shared a narrow bed)" (5-6). There are a number of references in Part 5 to the very early sections of the book. The beginning and the end are one: the tips of the "V" or "A."

"the bedside light (a gurgling new surrogate -- real lammer having been forbidden again by 1930)" (572) -- another callback to the beginning: " the extremely elaborate and still very expensive hydrodynamic telephones and miserable gadgets that were to replace those that had gone k chertyam sobach'im (Russian 'to the devil') with the banning of an unmentionable "lammer." (There Darkbloom glosses "lammer" as "allusion to electricity.") The re-banning of electricity is produces an A-D-A. (And now that the two significant telephones calls had passed, what purpose could it serve on Antiterra / in Van's story?)

"Their life together responded antiphonally to their first summer in 1884" (574) -- confirms what had been implicitly made clear.

"An overwhelming tenderness impelled him to kneel suddenly at her feet in dramatic yet utterly sincere attitudes, puzzling to anyone who might enter with a vacuum cleaner." (574) -- another instance of overly romantic corniness. These seem to cluster near the end of the book; it's hard to imagine young Van doing anything like this, even in his imagination.

"She was (and still is -- ten years later) an enchanting English blonde with doll eyes, a velvet carnation and a tweed-cupped little rump [���..]" (576) -- it's not clear to me whether the editor has omitted something or is merely expressing, through indicated silence, his offense at this comment about his wife.

"she had supported for ten years her mother’s children from two marriages, besides laying aside [something]" (576) -- but apparently Ronald Oranger doesn't want us to know what. (What does this mean? Am I just being dense?)

"this strange, friendless, rather repulsive nonagenarian (cries of “no, no!” in lectorial, sororial, editorial brackets)." (577) -- strange: who did write this? And hasn't it been quite a long time since we saw a note from Ada? (If I'm not mistaken it was back in Part 2 Ch. 2, p. 338, about Letters From Terra: "I disagree, it’s a nice, nice little book! Ada’s note.")

"one of his last papers (1959) entitled The Farce of Group Therapy in Sexual Maladjustment" (577) -- a joke about the threesome scene.

"Ada, who amused herself by translating . . . John Shade into Russian and French" (577) -- John Shade on Antiterra again.

"E, p, i -- why 'y,' my dear?" (578) -- Darkbloom explains that this is Violet trying to spell the word "epistemic," which occurs earlier on this page.

"That work [The Texture of Time], she said, always reminded her, in some odd, delicate way, of the sun-and-shade games she used to play as a child in the secluded avenues of Ardis Park." (579) -- another callback to the beginning. Suggests that a certain appreciation for the subtle "texture" of conscious experience is a key part of V&A's connection to one another. (Remember Ada's towers/bridges system?)

"They found the historical background absurdly farfetched and considered starting legal proceedings against Vitry—not for having stolen the L.F.T. idea, but for having distorted Terrestrial politics as obtained by Van with such diligence and skill from extrasensorial sources and manic dreams." (581) -- and yet the account of earth history given here is much more accurate than the one that Van gives in LFT (described in Part 2 Ch. 2).

"in a flashback to a revolution in former France, an unfortunate extra, who played one of the under-executioners, got accidentally decapitated while pulling the comedian Steller, who played a reluctant king, into a guillotinable position" (581) -- this death, along with the scope of the project ("some said more than a million, others, half a million men and as many mirrors") link the LFT film with the real-life film Ben Hur.

"From the tremendous correspondence that piled up on Van’s desk during a few years of world fame, one gathered that thousands of more or less unbalanced people believed (so striking was the visual impact of the Vitry-Veen film) in the secret Government-concealed identity of Terra and Antiterra. Demonian reality dwindled to a casual illusion. Actually, we had passed through all that. Politicians, dubbed Old Felt and Uncle Joe in forgotten comics, had really existed. Tropical countries meant, not only Wild Nature Reserves but famine, and death, and ignorance, and shamans, and agents from distant Atomsk. Our world was, in fact, mid-twentieth-century. Terra convalesced after enduring the rack and the stake, the bullies and beasts that Germany inevitably generates when fulfilling her dreams of glory. Russian peasants and poets had not been transported to Estotiland, and the Barren Grounds, ages ago -- they were dying, at this very moment, in the slave camps of Tartary. Even the governor of France was not Charlie Chose, the suave nephew of Lord Goal, but a bad-tempered French general." (582) -- I'm sure CML would take me to task if I didn't point out that this is reminiscent of the Borges story "Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius." It's also a huge moment of instability, and perhaps the most frustrating instance of the ambiguity between literal and figurative in Van's style (e.g. Demon's wings, forking time). Is Van merely saying that the dreams of Terra were surprisingly prophetic, and that Antiterra as of the 1960s is surprisingly similar to the Terra envisioned by patients in the late 19th century? Or is he simply giving up the whole game and declaring, with infuriating insouciance, that the whole story took place in the real world after all? (Incidentally, the period on Terra corresponding to V&A's last years on Antiterra would be . . . the 2010s, i.e., now. To channel C again: "Far out, man, far fuckin' out.")

"Recorded and replayed in their joint memory was their early preoccupation with the strange idea of death. . . . The strange mirage-shimmer standing in for death should not appear too soon in the chronicle and yet it should permeate the first amorous scenes. Hard but not insurmountable (I can do anything, I can tango and tap-dance on my fantastic hands)." (583-4) -- the presence of the concept of death even in the earliest parts of the book is here confirmed. (Compare to Van's attempt to disclaim this side of the story: "a book addressed to young laymen and lemans -- and not to grave men or gravemen" [17]).

" 'As lovers and siblings,' she cried, 'we have a double chance of being together in eternity, in terrarity' " (583) -- cf. this from p. 158: "I shall never love anybody in my life as I adore you, never and nowhere, neither in eternity, nor in terrenity, neither in Ladore, nor on Terra, where they say our souls go." "Terrenity" (unlike "terrarity") is a real word, meaning "Earthiness; worldliness."

"And I knew a girl called Adora, little thing in my last floramor. What makes me see that bit as the purest sanglot in the book?" (584) -- perhaps the fact that that scene was the first one Nabokov came up with for the book, as he revealed in an interview.

"And finally, there is the featureless pseudo-future, blank and black, an everlasting nonlastingness, the crowning paradox of our boxed brain’s eschatologies!" (585) -- good sentence!

"And if you land then on Terra Caelestis" (585) -- "caelestis" means "heavenly" or "celestial" in Latin. May be a reference to "Harmonia Caelestis" ("a cycle of 55 sacred cantatas attributed to the Hungarian composer Paul I, 1st Prince Esterházy of Galántha (1635–1713)" [Wikipedia])?

"She insisted that if there were no future, then one had the right of making up a future, and in that case one’s very own future did exist, insofar as one existed oneself. Eighty years quickly passed—a matter of changing a slide in a magic lantern." (585) -- seems like a strong suggestion that Van's happy life with Ada is invented? (But of course Ada is saying this as a 12-year-old, and the "eighty years" here are the whole rest of the story.)

The lines given on p. 585 are indeed lines 569-572 of the poem "Pale Fire" (from the novel Pale Fire). I don't know what non-metrical significance the omission of the "boths" could have (claimed by imagined Freudians on p. 586).

"Oh, Van, oh Van, we did not love her enough. That’s whom you should have married, the one sitting feet up, in ballerina black, on the stone balustrade, and then everything would have been all right -- I would have stayed with you both in Ardis Hall, and instead of that happiness, handed out gratis, instead of all that we teased her to death!" (586) -- what should we make of this acknowledgement? If V&A acknowledge their responsibility in Lucette's death, then why hasn't it had more of a footprint in the book? (Of course, it probably has, just covertly.)

"whose principal part is staged in a dream-bright America -- for are not our childhood memories comparable to Vineland-born caravelles, indolently encircled by the white birds of dreams?" (588) -- a possible justification for the invention of Antiterra. Note the double meaning of "principle part" (also a grammatical term) -- part of a motif about how textual/verbal the Ada world is ("old novels," etc).

"Nothing in world literature, save maybe Count Tolstoy’s reminiscences, can vie in pure joyousness and Arcadian innocence with the 'Ardis' part of the book." (588) -- the reminiscences in question are presumably Tolstoy's "Childhood, Boyhood, Youth." Also, "innocence" is (at least in one sense) a hilarious word to use for the randy Veens.

"That the relationship is not simply dangerous cousinage, but possesses an aspect prohibited by law, is hinted in the very first pages." (588) -- I love the awkward, ugly language here: "possesses an aspect prohibited by law."

"Her tragic destiny constitutes one of the highlights of this delightful book." (588) -- the cloying cliche "tragic fate" seems to mock the intuitively appealing interpretation that Lucette's death is supposed to be the emotional climax of the book. This sentence itself parodies the awkwardness of trying to hawk fictional tragedy as an appealing experience -- "tragic" clashes with "highlights" and "delightful."

"It is interrupted by her marriage to an Arizonian cattle-breeder whose fabulous ancestor discovered our country." (588) -- more hilariously awkward/platitudinous language.

"They spend their old age traveling together and dwelling in the various villas, one lovelier than another, that Van has erected all over the Western Hemisphere." (588) -- the word "villa" and the innuendo in "erected" remind us of a different set of villas, the Villa Venus club.

"Not the least adornment of the chronicle is the delicacy of pictorial detail" (589) -- you can say that again.

"a pretty plaything stranded among the forget-me-nots of a brook" (589) -- Lucette's doll lost in the brook again ("the red rubber of a favorite doll remained safely decomposed among the myosotes of an unanalyzable brook" [494]).

"and much, much more" (589) -- see above (in every sense!).

[clovenhoofedjester]

jellicle lineups; part 4/4

I FINALLY FINISHED THESE

grizabella | 🌃 🥀 🍂

i really wanted to mix revival and older replica for this one. the thigh-high boots, sparkly, tasseled dress, and generally the wig are all revival inspired, but the curly fur stays and the makeup is old because i really do like the very dramatic, gothic grizabella looks. her coat is also heavily 2019 inspired with the length and stripey purple fabric

i also was not sure how i wanted to do her hair other than it covering one eye (SHOUTOUT TO THE FANART I SAW WHICH HAD THAT. I CANNOT REMEMBER THE URL) esp the color so i did a gradient of light grey to dark brown, which i REALLY liked ! it also helped me decide that shed be chocolate smoke instead of a tabby

idk. ijust like her

i very much want to emphasize the "proud" and "indomitable" of her character in my portrayal of her; think betty buckley. i think shed be 61 in human years.

jennyanydots | ⏰ 🧶 👠

HER DESIGN... is very similar to her replica one because.... i really like it. very heavy emphasis in how her makeup is sometimes done with the HUGE lower lashes and squiggles. she also gets a cute little pink nose and blue eyeshadow

very 2019 inspired also. the hat, tasseled jumpsuit and bejeweled tap shoes stay ...... but i did want to give her the vest and collar from 2019. i just like that. shes also fat because yes

she remains sweet and nice yes. but i think warsaw was onto something when they made her Like That. shed be 56 in human years

jellylorum | 🎨 💐 👒

i ORIGINALLY drew her design a month and a half ago with the headcanon that shes gus' caretaker but bro. that jellylorum & asparagus jr. & gus family angst potential was too great. so i redid her as looking closer to gus. :3

idk why but i decided to go with a 1940s inspired formal look for her.... i quite like the hat and think it helps her to stand out, so i'm comfortable in that decision. her fur design is also mostly replica inspired. enjoy her neapolitan ice cream makeup too

she also gets a pink nose and her collar from the 2019 version. idk why the collars went so hard in that movie

i LOVE one of her 3 words being practical... yes, she is THE practical cat. i think shed be 59 in human years

bustopher jones | 🌹 🤍 🍛

VERY replica inspired.... with notes of other productions. opera populaire had full glasses bustopher which i liked. an older makeup look also had stripes which i also thought looked nice (and makes him look more related to mistoffelees) ! there are also multiple bustopher designs that have the moustache and beard 2 for 1 dealio..... and decided to incorporate that as well

he also gets the fishbone hanky crevat thing and a fishbone brooch. i almost made his rose white but i liked the contrast of the red. enough that i decided to give him lipstick too . and youd best believe that he has a giant fucking pipe that he smokes out of

i love the idea of him being the older generations' tugger in his time. i believe it. i think hed be like 55 in human years

skimbleshanks | 🚂 🎆 ⏳

I COULDNT RESIST BASING HIM OF THE MOVVIEEEEEE im not sorry that was peak skimble. the whistle and chains, the MATCHING conductor hat and pants, the moustache, the tap shoes..... truly, it was too good. my only regret was that i couldnt show the suspenders in this design because i wanted to keep the vest

i did keep the makeup/fur pattern very similar to his replica design though. idk. its just good. emphasis on the brown in his tail, the brown of his clothes, and the bell

anyone else get handsome gay silver fox vibes from him? anyway [being rushed out the door] i think hed be 56 in human years

asparagus jr. | 🧷 🎲 ⛲

lets go babey asparagus jr. inclusion ! i Really struggled with the clothes because i wanted to include the weird yarn poncho but didnt want to make him look hippyish (hippies are cool it just wasnt the vibe i was going for).... so it is reincarnated as this strange tassel-y scarf shawl thing. idk

he also gets a collar similar to jellylorum's because i like the idea of them living in the same house :^3. his makeup is also pretty different from how it appeared in the 98 version because i wasnt really feeling it. i like stripes. so stripes he shall get

hes also wearing a corset thing. idk what my propensity for designing men with a slightly feminine touch says about me (IM A FEMININE QUEER MAN)

not much notes on his personality other than i think he really looks up to his father (enough that he took on his more dignified name). hed be 57 in human years

gus | 📖 🌌 🔭

MUH OLD MAN... i love him. very much based on a bunch of different replica designs for him. he gets a beard and sideburns because i think i really do love the costumes w facial hair, and i think it just fits. he also gets glasses

he gets the coat and handkerchief (now a scarf) that typically hides the growltiger costume... which has a crisp formal outfit underneath. maybe he takes the coat off during his number to signify having moments of clarity and humor during his song

i do think in my interpretation hes well enough to joke around during his number and play the rumpus cat but like. damn you can tell this cat is old. hed be like 93 in human years

old deuteronomy | 🌕 🍮 ⭐

i have fully abandoned replica deut. say hello to haute couture resplendent transgender old deuteronomy. fit with a gigantic white coat, velvet dress, and gigantic fluffy hat. and yes, she did have 99 wives

she also gets the pendant that she was drawn with in the concept art for the 2d animated movie.... what was up w/ that....

ANYWAY YEAH UH. shes very different from the replica deut and other nonrep deuts mostly thanks to judi dench, with her saying that her version of deut was a transgender woman, and her complaining about not looking regal enough in the movie. here you go girly. the nose freckles/dots from some replica makeup get to stay though

she gets a lot of design notes from her children. the grey from munkustrap, macavitys white eyelashes, eye and mouth makeup, and tuggers cheek heart. shes also a light grey to kind of reflect her appearance in 2019

not much to add here other than i love her. i think she would be 88 in human years

AND THERE YOU GO. AHHHHHHH ITS DONE

[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader

{{- Welcome to Chapter 4! Gonna ditch the Story Description from here on out. If this is your first chapter, I'd recommend reading Chapter 1, Chapter 2 and Chapter 3 first! Or just read this one if you want the good shit, up to you ;^) -}}

//General Warnings: 18+ fic, Reader implied to be afab and under 5'5.

Chapter Warnings: Heated language. Heavy kissing. Mentions of Jackbox (Idk if that should count as a warning but the game is in this chapter so if you don't know of it you might get confused)\\

> Word count: 4.7k (I'm so fucking sorry LMAO)

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@k-k0129

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Chapter 4: You Don't Wanna Kiss Me?

The shots we had just done looked very pretty, actually. The crew had gotten this one beautiful shot of the extras throwing around the ball on the left with Ted and I along the flagpole on the right, the bright sun giving this shadowy effect to us all. Good. This way, you can't see how absolutely embarrassed I was with how close Ted was to me; practically had me pinned against that pole. It did make for an excellent shot though, and I could tell Tanner was proud. I didn't want to ruin that for him.

Once we all moved inside, Ted and I finally got to take part in some scenes where we'd be speaking to one another. These next scenes had extras moving around with packed bags and boxes, simulating a large group of friends helping each other move in. Ted and I would be discussing graduation in the scene over by the kitchen table. He and Tanner had apparently made some adjustments to the script earlier in the morning as the personality of 'Mason' needed to be tweaked for Ted's more extroverted personality. I didn't mind it, any new context didn't change my own lines and we were free to improv if need be. Ted would even start the scene by picking up a box from the front door to bring to the kitchen table to make the scene feel more natural. I liked how much Ted was willing to adapt to everything for the production, I'm sure Tanner appreciated it too; and I appreciated getting to see Ted move some more.

Oh man, I'm not actually starting to like this guy, am I?

I have to control my thoughts for the scene to continue. These casual takes are relatively easy to get through when my brain isn't arguing with itself. We shoot several different scenes together, some where we're talking alone and some where we're in a group setting, once again doing any necessary retakes until the sun starts to set once again and Tanner decides to call it for the day. As the film crew once again packed up and dispurse to their own accommodations, I found out who that 5th mystery member of the editing team was. It was Dan, the guy that had almost hit me with the football earlier. He apologized to me more, but I reassured him all was okay and that I wasn't upset with anyone. The interaction had got me thinking about how to wind the night down without us all retreating to our bedrooms. We had ended the 2nd day of filming a little earlier than we wrapped up yesterday, so we had the free time. I pitched the idea to Tanner once everyone else had left, and he loved the idea, so we got everyone else together and met up in the living room.

Tanner was the one to suggest bringing his PC down from his room to play Jackbox, a party game where you use your phones as controllers to connect and play some entertaining mini games. We'd all have to be together for the next 3 weeks anyways; it felt like the perfect ice breaker. At this point, everyone had changed into their own clothes, including Ted, who was wearing a black sweater and some casual dark grey pants. He looked pretty comfy, actually. The couch we were all on was like one giant sofa, all connected together in the shape of a sharp U with a large flat screen TV mounted up on the wall adjacent to us. I had sat myself near one of the corners on the left side, pleasantly surprised when Ted chose to sit next to me. The scent of pine I had caught on him earlier was a little stronger now, even though he wasn't sitting all that close to me.

"Did you put more cologne on?" I ask with a smirk, sitting up a bit more on the couch as he got comfortable next to me. "Yeah. I sweat a lot sometimes and I don't want to smell." Ted admitted, sounding a lot more relaxed than I'm used to hearing. He might've been a little tired from the long day we've had.

"That's actually why I'm sitting over here. Tanner smells like shit, like, almost all the time, so..." Ted jokes, giving a tired grin to Tanner who was setting up his PC to connect to the TV. "That's cap, chat. That's so cap." Tanner casually responds, plugging an HDMI cable to the side of the TV, then moving to sit at the far left end of the couch. Dan had chosen to sit somewhat in the middle part of the large sofa, more on Tanner's side so Joe could sit next to me.

"If you want to sit next to (Y/N), you can just say that." Tanner speaks up again, moving his mouse and keyboard onto the coffee table. I blush to myself, pulling my hands into my own long sleeved shirt. If Tanner of all people is starting to comment on...whatever's between Ted and I, it must be noticeable to literally everyone else. So it can't just be my imagination. "No, see, she doesn't smell like gym socks, so that's fine. I'll take vanilla over gym socks."

"I smell like vanilla to you?" I scoff, turning my head to him and raising a brow.

"It's not 'to me'. I just know you use vanilla."

"What do you mean I use vanilla?"

"You have a little spray bottle that says 'warm vanilla sugar." Ted spreads his thumb and his pointer figure to estimate the size of the bottle. I'm flabbergasted because he's right.

"How the fuck do you know that???" Joe asks, sounding about as confused as I am.

"Because I saw her put it in her bag!"

"Why were you--" a chuckle escapes me. "How do you know exactly what it's called?"

"You left it on the counter this morning and it scared the shit out of me because I thought it was, like, a little container of piss at first, so I looked at it!" Ted admitted, gesturing over to the kitchen with his arm. Everyone in the room starts laughing, myself included. His logic makes no sense sometimes. "And then I saw you put it in your bag, so I know it's yours!"

"Imagine it was actually was a container of piss though. Like, sorry, I left it there." Joe jokes, grinning over at Tanner. "Yeah, sorry chat, I was saving it for later." Tanner continues the joke, laughter once again filling the room. "Man, we should start a podcast." My friends are an interesting pair, I tell ya. I was surprised to see Dan and Ted weren't phased by our strange humor. They seemed to fit right in our strange friend group.

Tanner got the first game up so we could test some of the types of minigames this series had to offer. We quickly realized the trivia ones weren't very fun for us, mostly because we didn't know what any of the answers were. Quiplash gave us some good laughs but got old very quickly, and Tee K.O. was fun, but the creativity didn't last. The ones that really entertained us were The Devil's And The Details, Talking Points, and especially FixyText. There was something about the more cooperative ones that were an absolute blast, especially if I was ever paired with Ted. We'd be pushing and yelling at each other whenever one was trying to stop the other from committing a selfish act in one game, then get close together and share the screens of our phones as we created the funniest text replies in another, snickering and whispering to each other to plan ahead. I think we really blew everyone away with our fake presentations, too. Whenever we were paired up for a game, we'd be inseparable. Sensational, even.

But as always, time is fated to pass and it eventually got rather late in the night. As the last awards of the night are given, I realize just how much closer I had gotten to Ted. I wasn't leaning on his shoulder or anything, but we were practically stuck side by side together with our knees up to our chest, sharing the award we were giving out. I could tell Ted was getting tired as his voice was the lowest I had ever heard it. It was kind of...hot, actually. Especially this close. Dan is the first to say goodnight and head upstairs, with Joe helping Tanner pack away the PC to bring upstairs as well. For a little while, it was just Ted and I.

On that couch.

In that living room.

Downstairs.

Alone.

"You look tired." I speak softly as I look at Ted, who had put his hood up earlier. I could see the subtle bags under his eyes from this close.

"You kept me up past my bedtime.." Ted muttered with a tired smirk, keeping his eyes on his phone. He was checking all of his social media for the night, switching from Instagram to Twitter. "I didn't mean to keep you up.." I chuckled a little, sticking my own phone into my baggy pockets. "You're a big boy, you can make your own decisions."

"I know, but you were staying up, so.." Ted sniffles to stifle a yawn, looking over at me as he wipes one of his eyes with his hand. "Your fault."

"My fault?"

"Mhmm.."

"It's my fault you chose to stay up with me?"

"Yeah. Exactly."

"It sounds like you wanted to stay up with me, Teddy.." I shoot him a gentle grin, taking the opportunity to tease him. "I wanted..." Ted pauses to allow himself to yawn, stretching one arm out while covering his mouth with his free hand before continuing. "I wanted to make sure you'd lose."

"You wanted to make sure I'd lose."

"That's right."

"That's it?"

"That's about it."

"You wanna know what I think?"

"Prolly not a whole lot..."

"I--fuck off, I think--" I let out a cackle, lightly smacking his shoulder. "I think you wanted to stay up with everyone, not just me."

"Not just you?"

"No."

"No?..."

He stops stretching and looks at his phone one last time to close Twitter, then slips his phone into his sweater pocket and turns his head again to look at me. Our eyes meet and the room goes quiet. Ted has this relaxed half-smile as he looks at me, his eyes subtly moving left to right to suggest he's looking at both of my eyes. I return the tired smile, taking the quiet moment to gaze into his earthy orbs. As our gazes stay fixed on one another, I can feel a pit of anxiousness grow in my stomach like a slow, blooming flower. He just admitted it, didn't he? He wanted to stay up for me, with me. I can't deny this any longer. Ted is...a very handsome looking man. I can't break my gaze away. I turn my body a bit more towards him to make my neck more comfortable. His eyes wander along my blushing cheeks. I wonder if his gaze would go any lower, but he returns his stare to mine. I shouldn't. I can't even find the willpower to say anything, but he isn't speaking either. He isn't speaking, he isn't teasing me, he's stopped teasing me. Why has he stopped teasing me? He's so...he's so...

"(Y/N)"

I hear my name come from Joe's voice, startling Ted and I a little. I look over the couch to see Joe standing at the stairs, giving me a knowing smirk. How long has he been standing there? I look at my phone and realize it's nearly midnight. We should all be going to bed. I look over at Ted again, but he's already off the couch, cleaning up the empty bottles and cups to the kitchen. Son of a bitch.

I get up to help clean up, as Ted missed a cup since his hands were full. "Hold on." I tell Joe, heading into the kitchen with Ted. It's all one big room, so Joe can still see Ted and I in the kitchen. As Ted's putting the bottles in the recycling, I start putting the cups in the sink. There's a moment where we both reach for the same cup and his hand slightly rests on top of mine. His hand is surprisingly colder than I anticipated. We look at each other and chuckle quietly, then Ted removes his hand so I could put the cup in the sink.

"Clearly I am fuckin' tired.." He mutters and looks at me with a tired smile. "Don't stay up so late next time.." I pester him a little, returning the smile as I move away from the sink.

"I probably will.."

"Right, and it'll be my fault, yeah?"

"It'll absolutely be your fault."

I roll my eyes at his response, not even making an effort to hide the blush on my cheeks.

"Goodnight, Ted."

"G'night, stinky.."

A little laugh slips out of me, finally joining Joe at the stairs. Before we're even out of Ted's sight, Joe is already badgering me about that exchange. He whispers in a criticizing tone, but I can barely hear him over our stepping until we get to the upstairs hallway.

"I literally told you. I literally told you not to flirt." Joe huffs, picking up his tone now that we were likely out of earshot. "No no no, you didn't tell me not to flirt." I shake my head and waggle my finger in Joe's direction. "You told me not to sleep with him, I'm not sleeping with him."

"That's not what it was about to look like." Joe's whisper becomes raspy, like he's quietly yelling at me.

"What do you mean?? I didn't start flirting, he did."

"Did you not feel how fucking close you two were the whole night? He looked like he was about to kiss you just now!"

I look over at the stairs, as if I'm able to look at Ted through them. I think about his eyes and his smile. God, his smile. His stupid smile. "He was?.." Once again, I find myself smiling. It seems I can't even hide these feelings from Joseph. Not sure why I thought I could, Joe's see's everything, especially if I'm involved. He may know me better than I know myself. He's my best friend.

He snaps his fingers in my face to wake me from my gaze, furrowing his brows at me in frustration. I let out a huff, shrugging my shoulders at him. I'm not going to dance around him anymore. I know he has good intentions, but I see him as a brother, not a father. "Well, so fucking what? What do you want me to say, that I think he's ugly?"

"I'd know you're lying to me."

"Exactly! What are you gonna do if it actually happens? I have to kiss him tomorrow anyways. If something else happens, it happens. I don't know what to tell you that'd make you feel better other than I'll be fine."

Joe takes a deep breath, turning his head away from me for a moment. I could see his thoughts through his body language. He was unsure at first, but a mischievous smirk began to take over his expression. I saw Protective Brother Joseph leave his body in favour of Gossiping Best Friend Joseph.

"...okay, you two would be pretty hot together."

I let out a louder laugh than I probably should've, quickly covering my mouth as Joe playfully shushes me. I know Joe just doesn't want me to get hurt, I acted the same way with him when he met his husband. We love each other like family. "But you have to promise me you'll tell me first if anything happens. I need the tea."

"Oh you know I will.." I grin at him, moving over to my door for the night.

"Night, Joe." "Night (Y/N)."

I enter my bedroom and plop right down on the bed, letting out a content sigh. I take out my phone to glance over social media one last time. I see Ted had posted a photo of the 5 of us earlier, and I see just how close I was to Ted. I take a screenshot of it and rest the phone down on my chest, unable to contain my smile. I giggle to myself, knowing what's coming. I fall asleep wondering if I'll be ready tomorrow. There's a very good chance I could freak out.

Turns out, we both might've been freaking out.

The morning comes and goes, mostly because some of us had slept in. By the afternoon, we're having to turn the lights down and close the blinds to simulate it being much later in the night. We've got a bunch of RGB lights and even a light-up disco ball on the ceiling to make it feel like a party. This is the first scene in which Ted and I will be sharing a kiss. I actually really like how the scene is set. Ted and I are sitting in a circle with a bunch of the extras playing Spin-The-Bottle. Of course, after a few spins, the bottle will be pointing for us to kiss. We have to act like we're nervous, which probably wasn't helping. When it came to filming the actual kissing scene, we had to sit down beside each other, turn our heads and kiss, but it had to be slow. We have to linger on it, really show the tension building up just for it to burst with that very first kiss.

But for nearly a whole hour, we couldn't do it.

Maybe it was all the extra eyes, maybe it was the weird angle we were at, I had no idea. Sometimes Ted would be ready and I'd mess up, sometimes I'd be ready and he'd mess up. It was a whole ordeal. I felt bad for everyone that was waiting for us to get this. No one appeared to be mad, but one kiss was taking over an hour. Even I'd start to feel a little frustrated if the leads couldn't wrap it up. We almost get it at one point, but I choke at the last second and start laughing, which makes Ted start laughing as well. He grabs my face and starts shaking me, chanting. "We have to kiss, (Y/N)! This is our job! You need to kiss me, God damnit! Look at my lips and kiss me!" We both were becoming hysterical, so much so that Tanner finally decided to call for a break. I was relieved, actually. As hard as I was laughing, I was embarrassed. I thought I'd be more prepared for this. Perhaps getting this comfortable with Ted was a mistake, now I can't do my job.

As everyone's leaving to grab lunch or touch up their hair and makeup, Tanner approaches Ted and I as we get up from the floor. I half expected him to encourage us to get the kiss over with in front of everyone, but he has a different idea. "Okay, this is going to sound insane, but hear me out..." Tanner begins, gesturing to the both of us. "I'm gonna get the camera rolling...and then I'm just gonna leave it there."

"Leave it there?" I ask, raising a brow. "What do you mean?"

"I just...I feel like all of the eyes watching are making this a little harder for you guys.." Tanner admitted, clasping his hands together. "I can bring another camera and go outside with everyone, I want you two to be comfortable. You can take your time and, yknow, Ted could look at the shot afterwards.." Tanner trails off, probably looking for a specific reaction out of either Ted or I. Ted didn't seem to mind the idea at all, looking over at me with a shrug. I look down at my shoes, sort of clicking them together. So Tanner wants Ted and I to kiss on camera...alone.

"But if you want to wait, we can film something else..." Tanner speaks up again, looking at me with a concerned expression.

"Are you okay...?" Ted pauses, lightly touching my arm with one of his fingers, almost like he was...caressing me. I turn my head up to look at Ted, watching as he tilts his head. "....with that?"

"Yeah, I can do it this way." I finally answer, giving Ted and Tanner a smile. "He probably needs a refresher on how to kiss a woman anyways..."

Ted chuckles and shakes his head at me, though Tanner is satisfied with the answer. "Alright, I'll just set it up and give you two the reigns.." Tanner speaks, moving over to the camera. He adjusts a few things on it, then takes a step back and shoots us some finger guns. "Shout if you need me."

Ted and I watch as Tanner collects the rest of the team and brings them outside, watching one of the bigger crew members pick up an entire camera and hoist it on outside.

Now, it was just Ted and I.

In the living room.

Alone.

On camera.

"Alright, go sit where we were before, I'll make sure the camera's in focus.." Ted instructs, pointing over to the floor. I can't help but blush, only because It sounded like a command. I wonder if he's the type to talk you through it...

Stop it. It's just a kiss.

I go and sit back on the floor, criss-crossing my legs as I watch Ted fiddle with the camera. After a moment, he lets out a sigh and steps back. "Alright. You're in focus. It'll adjust to us." He speaks, coming over to sit next to me. I can feel my heart start beating out of my chest once he sits down. This is really happening. I know I have to do this for Tanner, I want to do it for Tanner, but it's...harder now. For some reason, it's harder now.

"If you want, we could just...talk first.." Ted spoke to me in a condecending tone. Our eyes meet once more and I get that same pit in my stomach that I had last night. No. I'm not gonna let him have this. He got me yesterday on that fucking pole, I'm getting him today. "We could...talk about last night.." I offered, shooting him a little grin. He cracks a smile, gliding the tip of his tongue along his top teeth briefly.

"You wanna get into this on camera?" Ted asks, nodding at me with am embarrassed little smile.

"What!? You're the one that offered to talk!" I start laughing, tilting my head at him mockingly. "You don't wanna kiss me, Teddy? You afraid to kiss me?"

"Fuck you."

"You don't wanna kiss me?"

"This film is going to fail because of you--"

"You don't wanna kiss me?"

"and your--and your giant fucking ego."

"You don't wanna kiss me?"

"Are you done, princess? Are you fucking done?" Ted's swiveling his head in my direction to mock me back, a permanent grin on his face. "Shut your mouth, I'm comin' in."

"You're not doing shit! That's not the tell!"

"Hey."

"'Hey' what?"

"Hey."

"What?"

"Shut your mouth."

I raise both of my eyebrows at him and scoff. Before I can think of another sarcastic remark, he does it. His eyes wander down to my lips, lightly nibbling on the end of his own bottom lip, then he returns his gaze to mine. That's the tell. He's about to lean in, but I don't let him.

My body moves on its own, darting towards him so our lips could finally meet for the first time. All of the tension that had been building between us finally begins to melt as our lips continue to connect, slowly at first. It's not enough. I unravel my legs and sit up on my knees. Ted reacts by placing both of his hands on my waist, pulling me in closer to cause a breathy moan to escape into our kiss. My hands reach up to hold both of his cheeks, his glasses caressing my face as our lips caress each other's tenderly. I can feel the heat radiating off his cheeks, my own warm blush making my breathing pick up. I can't pull away. It feels like his lips were meant to be attached to mine. I can feel his breathing on my chest, his stubble along the palms of my hands, his fingers gripping my lower back, his tongue gliding along his lower lip into mine, his cologne, the tension. The tension. All of it was making me stir crazy. His lips, his kiss, I could lose myself in him. I could truly lose it. I don't want to stop. I want to run my fingers through his hair, I want to bite his stupid lip, I want to be louder.

But we're on camera. Tanner's camera. We have to stop. I have to...

I'm the one to break the kiss, hearing a quiet pop and an airy moan from Ted in response. I connect my forehead with his for a brief moment, keeping my eyes closed until I pull away to look at him. The tip of his nose tickles mine, his hands still wrapped around my waist. We share a quiet moment, steadying our breathing. I don't even know if this kiss was supposed to be this heated, but it's what Tanner's getting. All he wrote was 'Kara and Mason kiss' in the script. He can work with this.

"...I think we got it.." Ted is the first to speak up, but he doesn't remove his hands from me just yet. I can't help but let out a laugh, leaning my head back for a moment. "What? What did I say?" Ted asks, smiling through his teeth.

"No no, I just..." I take a few breaths through my laughter, letting go of his face to wave my hand a little. "I-I think that's the quietest we've been together so far.."

"Oh yeah? We should probably get louder then.."

Now that. That is something I didn't think I'd hear out of Ted, certainly not to me. Did he forget we're supposed to be shooting a scene?

"Camera's still rolling, Teddy.."

"...FUCK!"

Ted nearly throws me off of him and struggles to get up to go turn off the camera. I'm absolutely killing myself laughing as I pick myself up off the floor. No way did the fucker forgot we were filming. He JUST said 'we got it'.

"You forgot!?"

"Can you cut footage on this!?"

"You fucking forgot! Oh my god, you sad fuck!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Ted laughs, trying to sound angry with me as he pauses the film on the camera. "Tanner's gonna see that!"

"Hell yeah he is! Great Job, Teddy! You sleazy mother fucker.."

"Me? Me!? He's gonna see you being a fucking slut!"

"Oh I'M the slut!? Really?!"

"Yeah!"

"Really!?"

"Yes!"

"Your hands on my fucking waist? I'M the slut!?"

"Your tongue in MY mouth!"

"You started with it!"

"I did fucking NOT! I felt yours first!"

"I felt YOURS first! YOU started with it!"

"Started with what?"

Tanner suddenly steps into the room, startling both of us. He must've just stepped in from outside, I didn't even hear him close a door. He's got no idea what we're yelling at each other about. "Have you guys kissed yet?"

Ted and I look at each other again as I struggle to contain my laughter. All I can do is nod, pointing in Ted's direction. "Ask him about it. It's on there." I manage to speak after a little while, walking passed them to head outside. I lightly touch my lips as I open the screen door to get outside. The last thing I hear is Tanner asking Ted about all the yelling, and a final huff from Ted himself.

Truthfully, I needed to head outside to compose myself. I could still feel his hands on my warm cheeks, placing my own hand on it to feel just how hot they had become. I couldn't believe he forgot he were filming, he seemed very into...all of that.

What would've happened if the camera wasn't there?

__________________________________

|| Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) || Chapter 15 || Chapter 16 || Chapter 17 ||