#//also she does still have one good dream ask queued up from the ask game I reblogged a while ago but she doesn't know that

[corviknight-appreciator]

💭

...I'm lucky that I haven't really been dreaming when I've been taking naps for my cold. I'd probably try to avoid sleep like normal even if I was sick if I had to deal with nightmares too.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

More Time - Chpt.13

Summary: Bucky, Emma, and Steve have a night at the guy’s apartment where Emma learns a little bit more about Bucky.  Master list can be found HERE.

Warnings / Content: A moment of slight angst featuring a sweet slightly insecure Bucky.

Word Count: 2.4k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! As promised, a new day and a new chapter! I don’t if anyone saw, I have a new stand alone fic I posted earlier (Love, In Any Form). I wanted to get that out there despite having this series going. It’s night and day different from this, but if anyone needs some nonbinary!Bucky in their life, check it out! I’m going to be popping up a one shot related to this fic in a little while too. Three new posts in one day... ya’ll are gonna get spoiled ;) The one shot is going to dive into the origin of Bucky’s rainbow pants and I think ya’ll will enjoy the little head cannon as much as I do. XOXO - Ash

Chapter Thirteen

It was ten days before their schedules synced up again and the guys made good on their promise of pizza and Netflix. They had both visited Emma at work since Bucky’s birthday but it was a poor excuse for quality time and they were all anxious to see each other outside of the bar again. Emma brought along her bottle of Two Buck Chuck, mostly as a joke but also so as not to show up empty handed. Bucky answered the door dressed in a pair of low hanging grey sweatpants that made Emma’s mouth go dry. He was still towel drying his hair and hadn’t gotten around to putting on a shirt yet.

“Sorry, I was running late.” Bucky told her, moving aside so she could come in. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and the woodsy, slight spicy scent of him made her toes want to curl. “I’ll be right back.” he assured her before going back to the bathroom to finish drying off. 

Steve called out a hello from the kitchen where he was getting out plates and Emma headed over to him. He was in blue sweatpants and a baggy white tee shirt she suspected he had stolen from Bucky. Everything about him screamed soft, and comfortable, and home. Emma greeted him with a lingering kiss, finding it easier to be a little bold with him. She helped him gather up everything and take it out to the living room while Bucky finished up. He joined them just as she was setting the second box of pizza on the coffee table. 

“Thank you, god, for leggings.” Bucky whistled from the doorway. 

Emma snapped upright and pulled down the hem of her shirt, realizing he must have had quite a view of her backside. “Be nice, dirty old man.” she teased. 

“Guilty as charged, ma’am.”  Bucky nodded. He’d put on a black a-line tank and his hair damp hair fell around his shoulders. Emma thought it was unfair how attractive he looked standing there leering at her. The man was walking talking sex appeal and he damn well knew it.

“I was just wearing what I would at home. That’s what you said tonight was for. Lazy day clothes, movies, and pizza.”

“And it is. Your lazy day clothes just happen to be what dreams are made of.” 

Emma huffed, unable to come up with a witty response. She didn’t have to though as Steve joined them with the opened bottle of wine. “If it makes you feel any better, Bucky is cheating.” he informed her.

“Am not” Bucky sputtered at the same time Emma asked “What do you mean?” 

Steve’s smile was cheshire. “Those are not Bucky’s around the house clothes. Those are his gym clothes.” 

“Steve…” Bucky’s voice was a low warning sound.

“And what does the illustrious James Buchanan Barnes wear around the house?” Emma had a feeling this game was going to get good. 

“Steve, no.” Bucky growled. 

Steve tried to slyly motion to the bedroom room door and Emma caught his intention. “Alpaca pants!” Steve cried and bolted to the bedroom with Emma quick on his heels giggling. “What the heck are alpaca pants?!” she asked between giggles. 

Bucky was diving after them and caught Emma around the waist barely inside the bedroom door. Steve was already rooting through a dresser drawer when Bucky tossed Emma onto the bed and went after him. He held up the pajama pants in question and threw them to Emma before being tackled by Bucky who tickled him mercilessly on the floor. 

“Oh my god, what even are these?” Emma howled as she looked at the fleecy materials print. 

Bucky left Steve panting on the floor to pounce on the bed and wrestle the pants from Emma. 

“I hate you both.” he grumbled petulantly, holding the pants close to his chest protectively. Emma noticed his eyes were actually wary as he clung to the pants, his cheeks pink from more than just exertion.

Steve joined them on the bed, still flushed from being tickled. “Oh come on, Buck. She’d have seen them eventually.” 

Emma gave Bucky shrug, “They’re actually pretty fantastic.” she admitted. 

“I know they’re… colorful.” Bucky agreed, his tone still hesitant.

“Why wouldn’t you wear these tonight?” Emma asked, “They seem so cozy.”

“I don’t know. They’re kinda private. I love my ‘paca pants but... they’re a little feminine... and over the top.” 

“Bucky, hey, no.” Emma moved so she was right up against him, both of them laying on their sides. She wasn’t used to seeing this shy side of him. “I don’t care what you wear. You could have on a leather jacket or a My Little Pony sweater, you’re still you.” 

Bucky nodded, knowing she was right but still unsure. He tested the waters a little more, “I have rainbow pants too. And a matching fluffy robe.” 

“They sound cute too.” she assured him. 

“I know it’s silly but those kinds of things remind me I’m safe, ya know?” Emma nodded encouragingly and Bucky took a breath and continued, “When I got away, it was hard sometimes to remember where I was. I’d wake up in the middle of the night and it was… yeah. It wasn’t great. There was this fuzzy kids blanket that someone left in the apartment I rented and it was so cold that I started sleeping with it. After that I didn’t have trouble waking up at night, I could feel the blanket on me and I knew I was safe. No way HYDRA would ever give me something so nice and soft.” Bucky paused to look at Emma and the understanding in her eyes made him push on. “I’m better about that now, but I still like having things like that around. Shuri gave me the rainbow pants when I was living in Wakanda and it just became a thing. Steve’s gotten me a few things and I have a pretty nice collection now.” Bucky let out a heavy breath. He hated sharing things that he struggled with but he cared for Emma and wanted to start trusting her with more pieces of himself.

Emma gave him a small smile and a kiss. “You’re allowed to like having nice things. It doesn’t make me think any less of you. But I will take a little offense if you don’t think you can be yourself around me. This is supposed to be a relationship, right?” 

Bucky nodded, “Yeah, it is.”

“Then you gotta trust me. I’m not just here for a hot threesome, I really like you guys.” 

Bucky huffed a laugh. “We like you too, doll. It’s just going to take a little time.”

“Everyone has baggage, Buck.” 

“We have a cargo plane full of baggage at this point.” 

“Oh come on,” Steve protested, “It’s not that bad. I mean you have an ex brainwashed assassin, who’s only missing one limb, and is down to screaming in his sleep once every few months now. And a retired American icon who shrank and got a little chubby, lived two full lifetimes already, and has a list of medical issues a mile long.” 

“Well when you say it like that…” Bucky rolled his eyes dramatically. Leave it to Steve and his oversharing tendencies. 

“I think I’ll keep you.” Emma laughed, “Both of you.” She stretched so she could drag Steve closer to them and rolled on to her back so she was lying with them on either side of her. 

“I don’t know what we did to deserve you, doll.” Bucky said with adoration in his eyes.

“I don’t know either, but you better keep doing it ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.” 

Steve draped himself halfway over Emma, snuggling into her warmth and reaching out to Bucky to hold onto him as well. They lay for a minute, basking in the warm, tender moment, before Bucky hopped up and dropped his sweatpants to the floor with one quick motion. Steve and Emma both made surprised sounds but he waved them off, “I might as well get comfy.” he told them pulling on his pajama pants. 

Emma pulled herself up and hugged him tightly, “They look perfect.”

Steve got up too then, kissing Bucky lightly as he passed by. “Come on, you two. Pizza’s getting cold.” 

Bucky smiled gratefully at Emma and they followed Steve, hands linked together.

Bucky got the middle seat while Steve brought up the movie they’d queued earlier and Emma flopped large pizza slices on plates for everyone. His nerves were still a little raw from all the sharing and both Steve and Emma seemed to pick up on him needing a little more affection than usual. They made their way through a pizza and a half while the movie played, a SciFi drama with just a little romance thrown in. It was engrossing and they were all a little surprised when it ended and they realized how entangled they had become during the movie. Bucky had sprawled out in his seat, his back leaning on Emma’s chest, one of her arms wrapped around his middle being hugged by his arm, and her other hand playing idly in his hair. His feet were tucked in on Steve’s lap and Steve had been rubbing them lightly, stroking up along his calves too. Steve’s feet were tucked under Bucky’s thighs for warmth despite the blanket on his lap. 

“I never want to move.” Emma groaned as Steve turned off the movie which was just scrolling credits at that point. 

“I don’t think. I can move at this point.” Bucky said hugging Emma’s arm just a little tighter. 

Steve yawned and stretched as much as he could without disrupting Bucky’s feet, “It’s late.” 

Emma looked over at him in disbelief, “It’s barely after ten.”

“I know,” Steve half shrugged, “But we both have work in the morning.” 

“Ah yes, you who keep to relatively normal work hours. I get to sleep in as much as I want to.” 

“Braggart.” Bucky teased, and then more seriously, “Don’t leave, doll. Stay the night?”

Emma looked down at Bucky’s face, searching his expression, “What are you asking me, Bucky?”

“We don’t have to do anything but sleep, but we’re all tired and the bed is big enough to share.” 

“Tempting, so tempting. But I don’t have anything with me and I don’t want to be in the way tomorrow while you’re both trying to get to work. I definitely can’t sleep with my contact lenses in either.” 

Steve squeezed Bucky’s foot and gave him a look, he was disappointed too but it was just bad timing, not a rejection of them. “It’s okay, another night maybe?” Steve tried.

Emma nodded emphatically, “Yes, definitely. Maybe on a day that none of us have work in the morning. We can sleep in and get breakfast at the diner over on 5th.” 

“I’m gonna hold you to that.” Bucky told her with a slow grin.

“I’ll look at the calendar tomorrow and figure it out.” Steve agreed.

“Kiss for the road?” Emma asked, looking from one to the other.

Bucky turned over so he was hovering above her and leaned down for a long, reverent kiss. Emma couldn't even breathe as his tongue danced along the seam of her lips, asking tenderly for permission. She opened her lips for him and shuddered when his tongue darted in. His hand stayed in PG-rated territory but the firm caresses of her shoulders and the back of her neck made it clear he was struggling to keep things from progressing further. Bucky was lost, barely reigning himself in after he got a taste of her mouth; all wine-sweet and perfectly her. Steve had moved so he could watch, rubbing a hand in small circles on Bucky’s lower back. It was with great reluctance that Bucky finally pulled back, “I’ll miss you.” He murmured against her mouth before moving away. 

Steve didn’t have to be told to slide over as Bucky moved away. He was painfully hard from watching Bucky and Emma kiss but he knew it wasn’t the time for that. He would take his goodbye kisses and be more than happy enough with them. Emma practically melted against Steve as his lips brushed across hers. Where Bucky was bright flame, Steve was glowing embers; patient and steady. Emma let him lead, enjoying the careful way his fingers combed through her hair. A soft sigh escaped her lips when he trailed a few feather light kisses along her neck. They were so soft but they absolutely ignited her body. Steve moved away and pulled himself up, extending a hand to help her up too. “You gotta get going before we start something we can’t finish.” He told her. 

“Well, you and I can’t finish. But you two could.” Emma motioned between the guys. 

“Uh, yeah… I mean we could but…” Steve stuttered, flustered.

Emma chuckled, “It’s okay, Steve. I know you two weren’t living like monks before you met me. I adore the way you guys are together and I wouldn’t dream of infringing on that. We’re all a little worked up; I don’t expect you two to go without a little fun once I leave.” 

“You’re perfect, you know that?” Bucky cooed, wrapping his arms around her. “We just don’t want you feeling left out.” 

“I’m far from it. And I don’t feel left out, I’m coming in new here and that’s okay.” 

 Emma was traded between her guys for a few more goodnight kisses until she was finally able to get her coat and head home. 

Bucky shut the door behind her and looked at Steve, his love-struck expression mirrored on Steve’s face. “We are in so deep here, Stevie.” 

Steve let Bucky envelop him in his arms, his head resting right under Bucky’s chin as he hugged him close. “We are.” He agreed, “But, god, we are lucky.”

“You feelin’ lucky, punk?” Bucky asked, quoting loosely from a movie Sam had made him watch.

Steve laughed lightly, “Yeah, jerk, I think I am.” 

Bucky grinned before dropping down to wrap his arms around the back of Steve’s thighs, picking him up with ease and carrying him off to show him just how lucky he was feeling.

The one shot is up now! The Origin of the Rainbow Pants

Tag list lovelies: @godofplumsandthunder​ @remilupin22​ @supraveng​ @hiddles-rose​

If anyone wants added or removed please lmk!

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

Forgotten Alliance Ch 32

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x OC with other parings mentioned throughout.

Word Count: 7.6K

Warnings: Canon Typical things

Author’s Note: As a reminder, FA can be found on ffnet up to chapter 42. I am uploading chapters here on tumblr for convenience. I decided against tagging this until new chapters are posted. If you would like to be tagged please let me know! Chapters are queued and will be posted randomly. Enjoy

Elizabeth sat on a bench as she watched Elijah with Hope. He had been chasing her around the garden just as Kol and Rebekah had done so earlier. From the moment they walked back up to the house and were in her sights, Hope demanded his attention. There was no way she was going to leave the dream world without spending some kind time with her Uncle Elijah. Elizabeth knew it was only fair. She had spent the beginning of their visit with Elijah, it was now Hopes turn.

To see Elijah chasing after Hope had brought back the memories Elizabeth had of her wanting attention from Elijah when she was younger. It brought a smile to her face just thinking about it.

"'Lijah" A whine passed Elizabeth's lips as she tugged on the man's shirt. Her younger siblings had been put down for a nap and she had been bored. While she probably would have found Rebekah to play with, she was no where to be found. The other siblings didn't seem to take an interest in the young girl and if she had to be honest, Kol scared her. It was why she favored Rebekah and Elijah. Elijah always seemed to give her the attention she wanted when Rebekah wasn't around.

Elijah had been busy with the plans he and Elizabeth's father, William, had been working on to expand the village. They had plans of making the village safer so that they no longer had to venture to the caves once a month to hide from the beasts that came with the full moon.

"We will be able to build a barrier around the village. While it will take time to complete, it will benefit the village in the long run." While Elijah had heard Elizabeth and felt her tugging at his clothes, he needed to get his ideas out to William. He wouldn't have an attack on this village that was becoming their home. And if Elijah had to be honest, if they did everything they could to make the village thrive he'd hope there would be no reason to leave.

"Elizabeth, leave Elijah alone." Her mother, Mallory, had said rushing over to pull Elizabeth into her side.

"It's quite alright " Elijah said giving Elizabeth a smile.

"I told you she wouldn't leave you be once she got used to you." William said with a smile. William had told Elijah and his siblings from the moment that arrived in the village that Elizabeth would be attached to them as soon as she was comfortable with their presence. It happened exactly as he said it would. "I'd say between your sister and yourself, Elizabeth would rather live with your family."

"She knows good people when she sees them." Her mother said looking down at Elizabeth who was currently pouting. She didnt like that she was being held at her mother's side and kept from Elijah. She enjoyed spending her time with the newcomers. And Elizabeth's mother was right, Elizabeth had a sense who was a good person and who wasn't. Its why she kept her distance from Kol and occasionally Niklaus.

William noticed the pout and chuckled before looking over at Elijah. "I believe we have the plans that we need. We can start building the barrier tomorrow." He said with a smile. "We'll take a break from planning for now."

"Come on, Elizabeth." Her mother said beginning to head towards their hut.

"Why not leave Elizabeth in Rebekah's and Elijah's care?" Her father said before looking towards Elijah. "My wife needs her rest and I must leave the village for a while, if it would be alright with you and your sister."

"We would love to." Rebekah said walking up to them.

"I see no problem in that." Elijah said giving a nod in agreement.

"She would be trouble if I didn't leave her be." Elizabeth's mother said nodding. She looked down at Elizabeth giving her a smile before letting her go. They all watched as Elizabeth ran towards Elijah.

"You do realize that child is attached to you." Rebekah said smiling at Elizabeth before looking over to see William and Mallory smile at them before turning and walking away.

"We are the new comers. You heard what William said." Elijah said as he smiled down at Elizabeth.

"But none of the other children are attached as she is." Rebekah said looking back at Elizabeth. "How about a game?" She asked.

Elizabeth nodded eagerly. "Yes, please." She said with a bit of excitement.

"Now," Rebekah said looking back and forth between Elijah and Elizabeth. "How about we go hide and Elijah tries to find us."

Elizabeth looked up at Elijah for only a moment, giving him a smile before she left his side and left with Rebekah to go hide.

Rebekah took her hand and they quickly ran off into the woods surrounding the village. Reaching a tree that had a hole in it, Rebekah tucked Elizabeth into it. "Remember not to make a sound, okay?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Okay." She said with a smile and watched as Rebekah went to hide behind a nearby tree.

If felt like minutes had passed while she had waited there in her spot. She looked out towards Rebekah from time to time to see if Rebekah was still in her hiding spot. When she didn't see Rebekah, she wasn't sure if she should stay in her hiding spot or go out and find Rebekah. She knew the woods could be a scary place and she didn't want to stay there if something had happened to Rebekah. She took a step towards the entry way of the hole she had been hiding in and looked around for either Rebekah or Elijah.

"Gotcha!" Elijah said as he pulled Elizabeth out of her hiding spot. A loud shriek passed Elizabeth's lips and soon after laughter followed as she looked up at him.

Elizabeth's laughter had brought a smile to Elijah's lips as he placed the young girl down and watched as she began running away from him. He shook his head slightly and began chasing after her. Her laughter could be heard the whole time she ran from him.

"Elizabeth?" Elizabeth looked up to find Freya standing there.

"Sorry, I was lost in thought." Elizabeth said giving her a smile.

Freya smiled sitting next to her. "It must have been a great thought if it has you grinning from ear to ear."

If it was possible, Elizabeth's smile grew as she looked over to see Hope jump on Elijah's back. "Picture a little girl with black hair and hazel eyes in Hope's place."

Freya smiled at the thought. "Sometimes I forget that my family knew you when you were human."

"Out of all the memories that I have, that is the part I could never forget. There was so much about your family that had me curious. Despite the outcome of it all, I'm glad I did know them during that time." Elizabeth said looking towards Freya. "To say that I've known them that long, it is rare. I know that there are others that have known your family for longer, but it is rare to find someone that knew them for years before being turned. If it wasn't for Elijah, I probably wouldn't be here now."

"I'd say it had something to do with that bond of yours as well." Freya added in. She was right though. Elizabeth knew that if they never had that bond between them, Elijah probably wouldn't have fought as hard to keep her alive.

"Bond or no bond, I kind of owe my life to your brother for saving me and helping me give my daughter a chance to live a full life." Elizabeth could have been just a meal the night Kol and Niklaus had decided to slaughter the village. She also could have died at the hands of her husband many years later, but Elijah had been there to save her from it all.

"After you find the cures and wake us up, I'd call it even." Freya said with a nod.

Elizabeth chuckled. "Until the next time I'm in trouble and then I'll owe him again."

"Are you planning to get into trouble?" Freya asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Not today." Elizabeth said with a nod as she looked back at Elijah and Hope. "Not even tomorrow."

"Good." Freya said looking out to the two as well. "I think after this, our family needs a break from trouble and just needs to take a vacation."

"A vacation only lasts so long before having to deal with the real world again." Elizabeth noted. She knew that from the times she had come to visit. This was her small vacation from the real world and once she left here, she'd be forced to deal with reality once more.

"Maybe we'll just make a life where ever it is that we decide to vacation at." The idea had sounded perfect. It was something that Elizabeth wanted. To just leave her problems behind and not have to think about them. She just wanted to enjoy life more than she already had been.

"That sounds like the best plan." Elizabeth said with a nod. "I could get used to that."

"I think we all could." Rebekah said as she walked up to them. "A lovely vacation on beach somewhere would do us some good."

Both Freya and Elizabeth laughed. "Why does it have to be somewhere with a beach?" Freya asked.

"We'd be less likely to run into some kind of vampire council there. If we are in a beach town, no one would dare even to suspect us of anything if we are out in the sun all day." Rebekah said placing her hands on her hips.

"She's got a point there." Elizabeth said with a smile. "Might as well find a place that is mostly abandoned. That way we'd really live a worry free life."

"A worry free life from what?" Elijah asked as he and Hope made their way over.

"From everything." Rebekah said. "Once Elizabeth cures you and Kol, we'll be up and out of this place and on our way to sandy beaches for a vacation that will last a lifetime."

"What if some of us wish to go elsewhere to vacation?" Elijah asked looking at his sisters.

"Then you and Elizabeth can go vacation somewhere else and eventually make your way back to us." Rebekah said rolling her eyes slightly. "And don't even think about saying you wouldn't return to us. We always return to each other."

Elijah just shook his head and smiled. But the truth was they always found some way back to each other no matter how long they had gone their separate ways for. Like any other family, separation made them want to come together after time. It is what would happen if they did decide to go on separate vacations. Eventually they would all meet back up together and move on with their lives together before they needed time apart from each other once more.

"Besides all this planning for a future vacation, there is something we should worry about now." Elizabeth said looking over at Hope who just had a smile on her face. "Hayley needs help with Hope's magic. That charm of hers isn't exactly helping with her magic."

"Has Hayley said what she has been able to do?" Freya asked curiously.

"Well besides this loophole that she found with me, she managed to cause a blackout from having a tantrum." Elizabeth said looking at the siblings.

"That sounds like one hell of a tantrum." Rebekah said looking over at Hope. "What made her upset?"

"Her not wanting to be in time out for redecorating the living room with paint." Elizabeth said with a nod.

"She's been holding in that magic." Freya said shaking her head. "Maybe I can start teaching her how to control it from here."

"But if I am not around as much, how will you be able to do that?" Elizabeth asked. "Without me she can't get here."

Freya sighed. "We'll have to figure something out. Her magic will only continue to grow unstable if you are telling me she can cause a black out with a single tantrum."

"Whatever you can do to help Hayley its best to come up with it fast. She can only do so much." While Elizabeth had no idea what it was like living with a growing witch, she can only imagine what one would go through.

Elizabeth

Both Elizabeth and Hope's heads lifted and they looked towards each other. It was obvious that they had both heard Elizabeth's name being called. It was Hayley's voice they had play through their ears and there was no mistaking it.

"What is it?" Elijah asked watching the both of them.

"Hayley." Elizabeth said looking over at him. "She's trying to get my attention. " There was disappointment in her voice. She wasn't ready to leave yet.

"You two have been here for quite some time." Freya noted.

Elizabeth, someone is here.

Those words had caused her eyes to widen and to stand up, picking Hope up in the process. "Something's wrong." She said looking at the siblings. She probably should have stayed calm but if there was a chance someone was there to harm them, Elizabeth couldn't do anything while she was there.

"What is it?" Elijah asked taking a step closer to her and Hope.

"I'm not sure." She said shaking her head. She didn't want them to worry, but she had no clue herself on what was going on out there. "We'll be back. I promise." She said with a nod before looking at Hope who understand it was time to leave. The moment they were back in the basement, Elizabeth placed Hope down and looked towards Hayley. "Whats going on?"

Hayley brought a single finger up to her lips to get Elizabeth to stay quiet. She then pointed up above their heads. Both Elizabeth and Hayley could hear two people walking around upstairs. Elizabeth pushed Hope gently towards Hayley before mouthing 'stay here' and making her way up the stairs. She could easily hear them walking through the living room. One made their way down the hall towards the rooms and another headed outside.

Elizabeth figured if she could keep the mess outside, it would make Hayley happy. Heading outside, she found a woman standing off the porch looking around. It wasn't a minute later that she pulled out her phone and began texting away. That had worried Elizabeth. Without wasting another second, Elizabeth had the woman pushed up the nearest tree with her hand shoved into the woman's back, holding on to her heart.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't rip your heart out." Elizabeth said keeping the vampire pinned.

"I-I'm here w-with Kai." The vampire struggled to say.

"Kai?" Elizabeth asked as she almost completely let go of the vampire's heart.

"What the hell, Liz." Malakai asked as he stepped out of the house. "Taylor is with me."

Elizabeth sighed and pulled her hand out of Taylor's back and took a step away from her. "Sneaking around isn't the best thing to do." She looked to the ground noticing that Taylor had dropped her phone. Picking it up, Elizabeth noticed the message she had been typing.

"All I was doing was trying to find you." Malakai said as he watched Elizabeth pick up the phone off the ground.

"I'll take that back." Taylor said as she held her hand out towards Elizabeth.

A smirk grew on Elizabeth's lips as she stood up straight and looked at Taylor. "I'd so love to know more about you, Taylor. I mean you were about to send a very interesting text about my whereabouts."

"I have family that's likes to keep tabs on me. Is that a crime?" Taylor asked as she rolled her eyes.

Elizabeth took a step closer to her before locking onto her eyes. "What is the real reason you are here? And don't leave anything out." While Elizabeth had no idea if Taylor had been taking Vervain or not, she just knew that she was lying. There was something about her Elizabeth just couldn't trust.

"I was to find you and follow you. If you lead me to what I need, I was to call back and give them the location." Taylor said under the compulsion.

"What is it you are looking for?" Elizabeth asked.

"The hybrid. A lot of people know that she left New Orleans with The Mikaelsons in tow. Elijah still lives and other wish to know where he is being hidden." As Taylor finished, Elizabeth had felt a rage fill her at knowing someone wanted to know where he was.

"All to end his line, am I correct?" She asked taking another step closer to her.

"Yes." Taylor said with a nod of her head.

"Who knows you were on your way here?" Elizabeth asked needing to know more.

"Several people. They've been waiting." Elizabeth didn't even want to hear anymore. Without hesitating, Elizabeth shoved her hand back into the woman's chest and pulled her heart out.

"Let's leave a message for when they get here." She said as she watched Taylor's body fall to the floor. "Now while I am glad you are here, I hope you knew nothing about this." She said looking over at Malakai.

"If I knew anything about it, do you think I would actually bring her here," he said gesturing around to where they were. "just to watch her get her heart pulled out."

Elizabeth's eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms over her chest. The hand that had the fresh blood on it, the fingers tapped on her elbow. She was tempted to compel answers out of him. But he had been right. He wouldn't have willingly brought someone straight to her when it came to Elijah. After a moment she nodded and sighed. "How did you even find me here? I expected you to be at the compound by the time I returned."

"I tracked your phone here." He said pulling out his own phone. From the looks of it, Malakai had gotten a new phone while he had been gone. "All updated maps dont show anything here. Which made me question why you'd be here in the first place. Then we saw the house."

"That's because the place is cloaked." Elizabeth noted as she looked back at the house before looking back at him. "How did you even meet her?"

"The better question is why you are out here in the middle of nowhere at a cloaked house?" He said crossing his arms. "Or why said house has a child's room."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "There is so much I need to catch you up on." She said as she turned towards the house."But first, I have a few things to do."

"What exactly?" He asked but she hadn't answered him. Instead she just continued to walk back towards the house. The moment she took a step inside the back door, she placed her hand up signaling for him to wait there.

Malakai sighed and did as she said. He watched as she walked in and towards the a door off to the side. Now that he had looked at it, he wondered what would have happened if he had went through it first.

"What happened?" Hayley asked the moment Elizabeth began descending the stairs.

"It was Malakai." Elizabeth said sighing. "As much as I am glad to have seen him, there is a problem."

"The woman that was with him." Hayley noted.

Elizabeth nodded. "There is no telling who she was keeping updated." She held up the phone Taylor had. "Whoever it is, she was about to tell them they had something."

"But they knew she was headed here." Hayley sighed and looked down at Hope. "If we stay, others will come."

"That's what I'm afraid of." Elizabeth said with a nod. She was counting on it actually. She'd leave Taylor as the message to hopefully get them to back off. But even though she wanted that, she knew what this now meant. She looked around at the caskets before looking back at Hayley. "Any idea where you will you go next?" She asked knowing that this was going to cause Hayley to move.

"I don't know. Give me a month and we'll have a new place." Hayley said looking down at Hope. "I'd say that this would be the last time you saw us until we had the cures to keep us all safe, but she needs to see you. To see them as well."

Elizabeth looked down at Hope. "If I wasn't her loophole to seeing them, I would completely agree on staying away." Elizabeth hated that this is the cause for Hayley to uproot Hope once more. "Give it two months though." She said with a sigh. "Gives us both enough time to make sure there is no one following us in anyway. I'll look into some more of who she may have been with and the two months will give you time to make sure you weren't followed."

"That sounds like a reasonable plan." Hayley said with a nod. "I'll give you a call once we are all settled and I feel that it's safe for the time being."

Elizabeth nodded before looking at Elijah. "They are going to need to know." she said sighing.

"I know." Hayley said with a nod before looking at Hope. "Take all the time you need. Let her enjoy it while I start to get the essentials packed."

Elijah had been pacing the garden until Elizabeth and Hope had returned. He hated that there was nothing that he could do to help them. For all he knew there were vampires attacking wherever it was they were currently at. Hope would be guarded by Hayley while Elizabeth was left to take them on. While Elijah knew that Elizabeth could handle herself, it still left him worried for her. But most of all he hated that he wasn't there to help protect them -to protect her. Seeing Elizabeth and Hope enter the garden, a sigh of relief pass his lips and he began walking towards them.

Elizabeth noticed the worry that was written on his face and she gave him a smile. "Everything is as okay as it can be for now." She said with a nod.

Elijah wasn't sure he believed it. But she didn't seem to look worried at all and Hope seemed happy to be back that she ran passed Elijah and ran towards the house. "Who was there?"

Elizabeth sighed and shook her head almost in disbelief. "None other than my lovely friend Malakai."

"Why would he be looking for you?" Elijah asked confused. "Doesn't he know you come for visits?"

Elizabeth shook her head once more. "He's been gone all this time. To where, I don't know yet."

"You didn't tell me he left." Elijah said surprised. This was Elizabeth's best friend they were talking about. He figured she would have been at least a little upset that he had left to go on his own. But then again, Elijah didn't know when he left. He could have left before Elizabeth and Hope found a way into the dream world.

"He didn't leave on his own free will." Elizabeth clarified. Those words alone had shocked Elijah and Elizabeth could see that. "The night you were placed into this spell, Malakai almost ruined our plan to ensure that Klaus would be safe. And since I was supposed to be this creature without her humanity or had no care in the world for your family, I compelled him to leave." She shrugged slightly. "I would have told him to come back a few days later but I figured he would want to see the world without my problems interfering."

"I'm sure he'll understand you had a part to play." Elijah said with a nod as he looked at her.

"I know he will. But him coming here wasn't the only thing." Even though her visits weren't as frequent as she would have liked, she knew the next few months were going to be hard for her. "He brought someone with him that I couldn't leave alive."

Elijah looked at her with worry. He didn't like the sound of her words at all. "Someone was looking for us." He said after a moment. He knew there were still plenty of enemies that were still out there. He just assumed-more like hoped-that they dropped it all once they had been gone for some time.

Elizabeth nodded. She wasn't going to bring up the fact that they specifically wanted him just kill off his sireline. "Malakai had no idea what she was really doing behind his back. But that doesn't change the fact that someone is out there wanting information on where Hayley could be keeping you and your family."

"I assume you and Hayley have come up with a plan." He didn't like this at all. For the first time in his life he really was helpless. Other times where he believed he was didn't even come close to comparing to this. Those were moments of where even if helped in someway, he was helping and never felt completely helpless. This time, there really was nothing he could do. There was no way he could even help in the slightest and he hated it.

"Hayley will be moving from here." Elizabeth said sighing. "I don't know the specifics and I won't know about them until Hayley is sure no one has followed her. In the meantime I'll be doing my own digging to see who may be trying to find her. But this also means that-"

"That your visits will stop for some time." Elijah finished for her.

Elizabeth nodded. "I know my visits haven't been frequent, but I'm not sure how long it will be until we know for sure everything is safe for them to have visitors." She ran her hand through her hair as she looked around. "If only there was an easier way."

Elijah smiled at her and placed his hand on her cheek. "We are lucky enough to have this. Imagine if we didn't."

"I'd be even more crazy." She said with a small chuckle as she leaned into his touch.

He smiled down at her before kissing her forehead . "How much time do we have?" He asked knowing their time was limited.

"How ever long she needs." Elizabeth said referring to Hope. "As much as I don't want to leave this place, or your side, it all depends on how long she can handle being here."

Elijah sighed before grabbing a hold of Elizabeth's hand. "Then we'll spend this time together, as much of a family as we can be." He said as he took a step back before turning and leading her back towards the house.

Once again, Elizabeth found herself standing next to Hayley in the back of the moving van. Elizabeth's hand ran over Elijah's casket as she sighed.

"It's not goodbye." Hayley said watching Elizabeth. As much as Hayley loved Elijah, there was moments like this that she could see that she would never have what Elizabeth has with him. Elizabeth's literal other half was lying in a casket in a deep sleep and Hayley could see it, just in this moment, that Elizabeth looked lost without him by her side.

"I know." Elizabeth said with a slight nod. Her hand tapped the top of the casket one last time before she turned and jumped out the back of the moving van.

Elizabeth tried to hold herself together but that was difficult. She watched as Hayley closed the back door of the moving truck and it had reminded her so much of the the night this had all started. She didn't know when the next time it would be that she could visit any of them.

"I'll call you as soon as I know it is safe again." Hayley said as she walked over to Elizabeth.

"You still have connections with a witch that can put up another cloaking spell, right?" Elizabeth asked wanting to make sure. She wanted to offer Jess to do the spell but it would be against the whole reason they were leaving in the first place.

"I'm sure I can find one once we get to where we need to be." Hayley said with a nod. "Every once in a while she's going to want to call you. "

"I'll have my phone on me." Elizabeth said as she patted her jacket pocket. "You'll have to remind her that she can't tell me where you guys are until you are ready to."

"I know." Hayley said sighing. "Just make sure that if you find anything at all, you'll let me know what we are up against."

"Of course." Elizabeth said with a nod. "I'll keep you updated as much as I can from my end."

Hayley nodded before taking a step back and turned towards the moving van. Elizabeth watched as she climbed into the driver seat and a lump formed in her throat. The sound of the engine starting actually caused Elizabeth to look away from the truck. There was this feeling in the pit of her stomach telling her she should stop Hayley from leaving. But she knew it was just the bond telling her that someone was taking Elijah from her. She had felt the same thing the first time she had watched Hayley drive off. She had thought it was guilt but now she understood the feeling that was in the pit of her stomach.

Malakai placed his hand on her shoulder just as Hayley began to drive off. Elizabeth wanted to shrug his hand off her shoulder, she wanted to be angry with him for what this all meant. But Elizabeth knew that none of this had been his fault at all. So instead of shrugging her shoulder, she simply sighed and looked over at him.

"How about some dinner?" She asked knowing that there was a lot she had to explain to him.

"At a time like this, you're thinking about food." He said raising an eyebrow as he looked at her.

"Wanting food is a whole lot better than wanting to drain a body." She said with a smirk on her face. Even though at that moment she did want to rip her teeth into something, she knew it wasn't going to help any situation at all. Food in public place was probably the safest thing for her.

"You know what, you're right. There is a restaurant that I saw not to far from here. It had an advertisement for some steaks." He said knowing that Elizabeth had a point. He knew her. He knew this was just added stress for her.

"Sounds like the perfect place." She said as she started backing up towards her car.

"What do you remember from the night you left?" Elizabeth asked as they sat down in a booth that was away in a corner. Their conversation wasn't exactly a human friendly conversation and Elizabeth preferred not to have to compel people tonight.

"To be honest I've tried remembering myself. It's like there are pieces missing. I remember you coming to the compound and I found out you had taken the serum. I could tell you were fighting the switch. I warned Elijah about what I had seen before leaving. I couldn't just let you deal with that on your own. I looked everywhere and when I finally started making my way back to the compound, there was a lot of noise. I just remember that there was a lot of chaos walking into the compound and..." Malakai stopped trying to get the memory of that night. "Nothing." He shook his head. "I was compelled wasn't I?" He asked Elizabeth.

Elizabeth nodded. "You were. I was the one who compelled you. It was actually necessary at the moment."

"When is compelling anyone actually necessary?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You were about to ruin the plan that we had in place." Elizabeth said honestly. "Yes, we should have included you in on the plan, but you were still out looking for me."

"I had no idea where you were." He sighed. "You were fighting your humanity and on top of it I had no idea where Alex was lurking. It had me worried."

Bringing up Alex had made Elizabeth stiffen slightly. "Alex is dead."

"Since when?" He was glad to hear that Alex was dead.

"The day you left." She said with a nod. "I ripped his heart out."

"Nothing slow and painful?" He asked disappointed.

She smiled slightly and shook her head. "There was other things going on at the time." A sighed passed her lips. "Do you want to remember it?" She asked.

That made Malakai actually think about it. This was a piece of his memory that he had been trying to put together for a while now. There was obviously something there that Elizabeth didn't like. "Will it explain everything?"

"Everything up until you walked out of the compound." She said with a nod. "I'll fill in everything afterwards." She promised.

Malakai thought for a moment before nodding. "Alright. Go for it."

She nodded before she looked him in the eye. "I want you to remember everything I had taken away from you." She said before looking away. She watched Malakai sit back for a moment. She was sure he was getting that night back.

"Did you kill him?" Malakai asked watching Elizabeth.

"No." She said shaking her head. "I shoved Papa Tunde's blade into his chest. Doing so, while putting on a show bought Freya the time to do one last spell before they were pulled into the spell."

"What spell was that?" He asked.

"Tie their life force to Klaus'. I had bitten Elijah and Kol in the process of cleaning up a mess that Marcel had began. It was the only way to make sure they would survive my bites. That and Freya had been poisoned and Rebekah's hex wasn't going to be doing us any favors."

"That would explain Hayley hiding out with them." He said with a nod. "They're vulnerable."

"They are. And with there being others out there that want to find her, this is just going to add to everything I've been dealing with."

Malakai shook his head in disbelief "That whole time you had your humanity."

"I had to put on this show." She said hoping he'd understand. "It was to help them in the end. And I have been failing at that even now."

"You believe you should have found a cure for them already." Malakai noted. "Liz, you do realize that this is a big task you are putting on yourself. It's been a year of you trying to get things undone. Who knows how long Lucien had been coming up with that serum."

"I've thought of that." Elizabeth said shaking her head. She knew that Lucien must have been working on getting the serum for years before any of them had even seen him in town. "That doesn't mean I can just sit around and wait for it all to fall into place."

"Okay, since everything went down, what have you gotten done?" He asked wanting to prove that she hadn't been doing nothing as she seemed to be claiming to be.

She sighed before looking around. "Freya's antidote had been made, Hayley got the cure for Bekah's hex, and I currently have someone trying to break down the components of my venom."

"All of that in a year sounds like you are doing everything you can to get them back." Malakai said with a nod.

"Yeah, it just doesn't seem like it is enough. Even with all my distractions in the quarter, I was hoping that this would have been easy."

"They are immortal." Malakai reminded her. "A few years of sleep isn't going to hurt them."

"But it keeps Hope from having them awake and in her life. Seeing them in a dream world isn't enough. She also needs to see Klaus." She knew what it was like to not have her parents in her life. She hated that Hope had been hours away from seeing her father. But because of the precautions Elizabeth had to take, he was still kept locked away.

"That day will come." Malakai said giving her a smile. "When it does, Everyone would be one happy family again."

Elizabeth nodded. "One day. But enough about the problems I am going through. Tell me all about where you've been this past year."

A grin grew on his face at the mention of it. "I'll tell you, but first let's order and get a round of drinks."

She smiled and shook her head. He hadn't changed one bit. That was the thing about Malakai. While he was as old as she was, he had hardly lived that long. He was still that twenty five year old man that loved adventures. Being awake for almost five years hadn't put a damper on his perspective on life. While the world had changed in so many ways for him, he was still that guy that was her best friend from the moment she met him.

"There are a few things you should know." Elizabeth said as she drove into the city limits. "Things changed since you've left. Different rules were put into place."

"When aren't there ever any rules?" Malakai said as he looked out the window.

"I'm serious Kai." Elizabeth said looking over at him. "These rules have kept the city in the best shape possible. The rules are enforced and it keeps the perfect balance that we need."

"Were these rules put in by everyone or just the humans?" Malakai asked keeping his eyes looking out the window.

"I tossed some in there as well." She said with a nod, bringing her eyes back to the road. "You do need to know the changes to the rules Marcel had put all those years ago."

"Let me guess, no feeding on the locals, stay out of which territory, don't piss off the wolves?" Malakai listed. Elizabeth could tell he wasn't interested in hearing the rules.

"This isn't a game, Kai." She said sounding worried. "You are a hybrid. While you are both vampire and wolf, the rules you follow will be that of the vampires. Punishments aren't taken lightly anymore."

"I get it." Malakai said shaking his head. "No freedom, no fun unless its with the tourists that won't be missed."

Elizabeth looked over at Malakai once more. "I hope you fully understand that these rules have kept the city in good standing."

"What happens if one of the rules are broken?" Malakai asked.

"It depends on what you are. Witches have their magic bound, for the wolves it is completely up to Mary on what their punishment is. As for the vampires and hybrids, that is my job to handle and most punishments lead to one thing and one thing only."

"Your kidding right?" Malakai asked looking over at her.

Elizabeth shook her head as she pulled up to the compound. "I'm not. So don't get carried away or anything, okay?"

Malakai nodded. "Alright." He said. "No getting carried away."

Elizabeth sighed but nodded. She knew how Malakai was. She just hoped that he really did pay attention to the rules and the things he'd be doing. "Welcome home." She said with a smile before getting out of the car.

Malakai smiled and got out of the car and followed Elizabeth into the compound. As he looked around he noticed that there had been a lot of changes since he had last been there. "Someone's been redecorating."

Elizabeth laughed and looked around. "It was needed. Especially after the chaos from letting Klaus' sireline destroy the place."

"You let them do what?" He was shocked. He definitely missed a lot.

She shook her head slightly. "This place was a mess, don't you remember that at least? Someone had to clean up the mess."

"Right." He said with a nod. "It looks great though, Liz."

"Thanks. Just took a few compelled interior designers to get it the way I wanted it." She said as she looked around again. "I assume you still know where your old room is."

"You mean you aren't in the room next to me anymore?" He asked faking hurt.

She laughed and shook her head. "No. I'm in Elijah's room."

Malakai opened his mouth to say something but closed it quickly. He knew his usual jokes weren't ideal for this moment. "Does it make this easier?” He asked a moment later.

She nodded. "Some days it does, some days it doesn't."

"We'll get those cure for them in no time." He said placing his hand on her shoulder, giving a slight squeeze. "But for now, I'm going to get settled and then we'll talk about our next move."

"Sounds like a night of starting to plan things but then becomes a night of you drinking away half the stock of alcohol in this place." She said with a shake of her head.

"You know me so well." He said with a smile before he turned towards where his old room had been.

Shaking her head once more she turned to head up stairs. As she made her way up the stairs she found Veronica standing up at the top with a smile on her face. Elizabeth's eyebrow rose as she reached the top.

"What's that look for?" She asked as she put her bag down for a moment.

"You left to see Hope and Hayley, yet you come back with him." Veronica's smile grew into a mischievous grin. "Should I call him temporary grandpa until Elijah wakes up?"

"Veronica." Elizabeth said rolling her eyes. "And god no. That's Malakai."

"Wait, that's Malakai?" Veronica asked almost excitedly. Veronica didn't even recognize the man Elizabeth had been talking to.

"Yeah." Elizabeth said with a raised eyebrow at how excited she seemed to be

"I'm just going to poke my head out to say this," Malakai said as he looked over at Veronica from his room door on the other side. "While I tried that once, she turned me down. And I'm sure if Elijah heard you say that, I'd be somewhere lying in a ditch with a stake in my heart. You don't even kid around with that man when it comes to Liz." Without another word, Malakai was gone. Elizabeth laughed and shook her head before looking back at Veronica.

"Is he serious?" Veronica asked. "That Elijah would do that."

Elizabeth smiled before grabbing her bag once more as she walked past Veronica to go towards her room. "The bond makes both Elijah and I very...what's the word I'm looking for… possessive and at time makes us jealous if someone shows any caring actions towards the other. Kai had been talking to Elijah about me, words were said, and let's just say that during said conversation I felt that need to show I was Elijah's. I'm sure if Kai didn't set things straight, Elijah probably would have."

"Remind me to never be bonded with someone like that." Veronica said following her.

Elizabeth chuckled. "Oh if it happened to you, you'd have no choice. It becomes a part of you." The thought alone made her already miss Elijah. The next few months were going to be tough on her.

[itsybitsyjoltik]

tagged by @autumnpen !

Rules: Answer 30 questions. Tag 10 blogs you want to get to know better. nah my dudes i don’t feel like tagging anyone you can do it if you want

Nickname(s): tbh i don’t really do nicknames much. you can call me joltik if you want

Gender: what the fuck is a gender

i mean i guess i’m transmasc leaning these days/genderfluid maybe?? nonbinary as hell either way. shrug.

Sign: leo

Height: 5′4″

Current time: 9:03 PM

Favorite band(s): uhhh marianas trench, the dear hunter, fall out boy, queen

Favorite solo artist(s): pretty into carly rae jepson these days. she’s the only one i can think of off the top of my head--FUCKING UHH JANELLE MONAE CAN’T FORGET HER, SHIT

Song stuck in my head: i didn’t have any up until just this moment but i went straight from janelle monae to this bi as hell song my work plays in my thought processes just now

Last movie I saw: incredibles 2 which is a common sentiment it appears

Last show I watched: i actually have no idea, it might have been the first episode of hxh 2011 lol...it’s been a while since i’ve watched anything tv-related

When did I create my blog: sometime in 2012

What do I post: mostly a random combination of reblogs - multifandom, mainly hxh, taz, and ace attorney...political shit, shit that i find funny. i queued up a shitton of we know the devil posts a while back bc i’d just replayed that game and was having Feelings, but i think my queue ran out or is just about out by now. i have various sideblogs that i use now and then that are more specific in nature, but i kinda just run this blog for myself, you know?

original posts are mostly just...art i’ve drawn, shitposts, occasionally meta.

Last thing I googled: oh jeez i looked up something about how the mcelroys and lin manuel miranda met bc i was talking about them with my roommate, lol

Do I have other blogs: uhhhh

i guess the sideblogs of note (ie the ones with any real likelihood of ever getting posts at this point lol) are @catsthatlooklikekillua + @allukaesthetic + @bullshithxhthings + @hxhgirls

i also have a secret ns/fw sideblog that i guess you could ask for off anon if you really want it (if you’re 18+....) but i’m pretty self conscious about it lol

Do I get asks: occasionally but not much lately tbh

Why did I choose my url: needed a change from my old url (doesn’t help that it was based off my deadname), i like joltik and i thought a play on “the itsy bitsy spider” would be fun

Following: 547 currently

Followed by: 833 on my main blog, which is by far the most for any of my blogs

Average hours of sleep: uhh 7-9 i think

Lucky number: 8! (if anyone thinks this is a vriska thing it’s been my lucky number since i was a little kid lol)

Instruments: absolutely not lol (i’ve tried to learn piano before and it’s been a disaster)

What I’m wearing: olive green rowlet t-shirt, light blue cutoff denim shorts, black and white otk socks that i’m currently wearing like kneehighs

Dream job: i’d love to be a translator for like games or anime/manga or something but my japanese is still nowhere near good enough

Favorite food: okonomiyaki....

Nationality: united states

Favorite song: masterpiece theatre iii by marianas trench, i’ll blast either that entire album or that song in particular on repeat when i’m feeling anxious

Last book I read: does a cookbook count lol...or a manga...or a fanfic...it’s been so goddamn long since i’ve read an actual book i’m a disgrace

Top 3 fictional universes I want to join: jesus i don’t know. pokemon obvs but other than that? hm you know, steven universe probably wouldn’t be too bad, there’s a bit of danger occasionally but beach city seems pretty chill. and then the taz balance setting is. actually pretty dangerous considering the whole relic situation followed by THE APOCALYPSE but you know what i’d probably go for it anyway

Tagging: if you want to do this meme, feel free to consider yourself tagged

[simmancy]

I was wondering how you first started your berry legacy? Did you make a new simblr for it? How did you first start posting and getting into a routine? I really want to make a legacy myself but i'm scared that it would look really mediocre and unorganized! Any tips on how to plan out the storyline and start posting? Thank you!! (asking this to a few different blogs so sorry if yo see this question somewhere else)

I’m honestly super honored that you’re asking me! I’m still a pretty small simblr compared to a lot of people.

I’m going to put this under a cut, just so it doesn’t clutter up people’s dashes because I RAMBLE (like seriously, I’m re-reading it all now and I go on and on and on) but I’m gonna cover everything you asked!

TL;DR: get mildly inspired, get involved in the community and have fun with it!

I cannot recommending creating a new blog enough. While it’s definitely easier to just create a sub-blog off your personal, you’ll have a harder go at keeping things separate once things take off. Plus then you probably won’t have ALL your million tumblr things that you’re already following mixed in with your sim stuff, making things so much harder to follow.

Once you start your simblr (whether a sub-blog or whole new tumblr), TAG EVERYTHING. XKIT SAVES LIVES. Not really, but it will save you a lot of time once you install the Quick Tags and make tag bundles. Seriously.

At least once a day, a “reblog if you’re a maxis match simblr” thing comes across my dash–don’t be afraid to reblog those when you’re starting out. (Or the alpha equivalent if that’s your thing).

Seriously, don’t be afraid to reach out to people and get involved. Ask for sim requests, reply to things, join a Discord server–don’t be afraid to talk to people! I’ve actually made a few good friends this time around. It’s awesome.

This is just one of the unfortunate realities about things–if your pictures look good, you’ll get noticed quicker and blah blah. You can get by on just writing, but it’s a lot harder. This is still tumblr. It’s microblogging. LOOOOONG text posts (like this one lmao) are not what it’s geared towards.

Anyway. I play TS4 on Ultra, and that does a lot of work for me. Sometimes all you really need to do is sharpen and brighten things up. Reshade is another good alternative, if your computer can handle it–that takes a lot of the decision making out because it edits for you! I used to use PickyPikachu’s reshade presets. The downside is that it’s pretty resource heavy.

The basic point here is that having good lookin’ pictures goes a long way to making your stuff look “not mediocre.”

Also, and this is a side thing–find a good theme for your simblr, something that looks good for both text posts and pictures, probably something with either a sidebar or header (or both).

This is the meat of the section and it’s all really Kit/Pastille-specific.

I started up the Pastel Pastilles because I saw Berry’s challenge–I had already read Splash of Color a long time ago, and had a (now obviously abandoned) TS3 rainbowcy. But TS4 was fun and ran like a beast and I liked berry sims, so I dove in. If you were to go back in my archives, though, you’d see that I started posting a TS3 LEPacy, and that’s not even my first one.

I’m not going to even talk about the Grims in this post, since they’re really new. But they’re a prime example of using community involvement to stay interested haha. I’m very excited to play with Ruby and her future family because of all the nice sims people sent for her to eat alive become friends with. 

Planning with the Pastilles

With the Pastilles, I honestly got a little tipsy one night and did my initial planning based around Halsey’s Hopeless Fountain Kingdom. Like… Not even gonna lie. That was honestly my starting point. You can almost see hints of this in some places. From there, I had certain scenes I wanted to hit.

Gen 1 - Luna - “Hopeless”; it’s about being in a shitty relationship and hoping that changes lmao (“I hope hopeless changes over time”). Luna and Dianthus were meant to have a much more obviously toxic relationship but Luna ended up having four kids by her second pregnancy and I just couldn’t play and write that fast. However, I always knew that Luna’s big moment would be telling Dianthus to get out.

Gen 2 - Verity Vine - “Now or Never”/“100 Letters” - There are a couple things that have stayed consistent in this gen: Veri and her dreams, the peach spouse’s dad was gonna be a dick and they would be separated for years, and they were gonna hook back up at a wedding. 

My very first concept was that Riesling was going to be a bit more wishy-washy and bend to his father’s will (hence “Now or Never” being the song). By the middle of the generation, it was clear that Veri would become the distant one (“he said ‘please don’t go away,’ I said ‘it’s too late’”).

Part of writing a sims legacy sometimes is… letting the sims do the writing for you. Meri and Forest weren’t supposed to be the ones getting married (it was supposed to be Chai Tea and Black Cherry) and they definitely weren’t supposed to have the twins but honestly the story is better for it, you know? And obv most of Veriling’s story isn’t the way I initially planned.

All this said, once I knew where I wanted the story to go, I knew I wanted to plan around a few set-pieces: the fountain scene where Riesling trips onto Veri and she realizes “OH SHIT,” the scene where Eiswein walks in, Punk!Veri’s “I don’t dream at all anymore,” and Riesling’s “Hi, I’m Riesling Puck, you might recognize me from your dreams.” Those were all scenes I knew I HAD to get.

Gen 3 - ??? - “Angel on Fire” - it’s about anxiety lmao so I don’t mind linking it, it’s pretty obvious. Gen 3 has an anxious heir, a song about anxiety was on the nose.

I don’t really recommend the getting tipsy part, but definitely do recommend going in with a basic concept.

The cool thing about challenges is that you already have the guidelines as a starting point. One of my favorite parts about this challenge in particular is seeing how people re-interpret the rules–for instance compare the Gumdrops, Frosts, Amours, Pastilles, Fairyflosses, Prisms–we all started from the same basic rules and there’s still a lot of variation, especially once you get past the initial introductions.

Also, SERIOUSLY: don’t be afraid to take inspiration from crazy places–a song you heard on the radio, a movie, your own life, whatever. Like, I decided Veri’s generation would have it’s first Act at Oxtail University because of the “dream of ivy covered walls and smoky french cafes” line in “Beautiful” (from the Heathers musical). The song otherwise has VERY LITTLE to do with Gen 2. It’s just that line became a starting point for me.

Keeping Things Lookin’ Snazzy with the Pastilles

Looking back, you can kind of see Gen 1 was a bit brighter and lighter/different in editing style than Gen 2. I purposefully set out to get a “dreamy” feel for Gen 2′s pictures. It works for me and the Pastilles–it might not for your legacy! Play around with things to see what works.

I’ve also noticed a lot of banners nowadays (they weren’t as big my first go around here on simblr, but they’re everywhere now). I think that helps to keep things “on brand,” organized and consistent too. I personally don’t use a banner for the Pastilles–I didn’t start with one, and now it looks super wrong to me when I try to use one…. So instead, I’d recommend looking at @frost-rainbowcy–she is SUPER on-brand. I can only aspire to reach that level of #a e s t h e t i c.

HOWEVER, I do keep everything on my blog hyper-organized–there’s a main page where everything’s pretty much linked, and the character page. 

TBH, you don’t need to go that in-depth. I just like leaving weird easter eggs in places. You might too.

Posting Consistently

So, I started posting the Pastilles officially almost a week after I made the first post with Luna. That’s because I played a BUNCH right at the beginning, so I’d have something consistent to post for a while. It wasn’t initially as story-heavy as it is now. That’s something you probably want to decide before you start posting.

Right now, I’m posting inconsistently because I’m trying to wait around for Cats and Dogs and not give into the temptation to give Veri and Ries the babies they keep wishing for, but….

I’m in game almost every day–I get off work most days between 2 and 4 now, so by 6 PM I’ve eaten/showered/started up TS4. Even if it’s just to make a sim for someone.

I tend to do all my picture editing on Sundays, as it’s my day off. Sometimes it bleeds over into Monday, my other day off. I don’t always write posts up those days, but I at least stick them in the queue so they’re THERE. For me, it helps giving myself that weird deadline lmao

As a result, I almost always have something queued up.

I utilize the queue like MAD. Right now it’s set at 6 posts a day between 3 PM and 12 AM EST, but I change it up depending on what I have going on and what I can crank out. Usually I leave it on 13 posts a day.

Basically, learn what works for you. It does take some trial and error, but you’ll get it eventually.

Now here’s the real truth: you won’t post consistently if you don’t love your game or your sims.

I love playing the Pastilles as much as I love writing them. To the point that I have them backed up in several places just in case. I’m genuinely attached to the family, and that makes it worth it to me. Sometimes that doesn’t happen immediately (I love Luna, and Vino, and even Dianthus that shitbag, but you can tell that I got invested with Veri and Ries–Gen 1 is 30 pages long on my blog. Gen 2 is 92 and counting).

Storywise, I stay interested because I love the fluffy romance bits and snappy dialogue as much as the Drama Bombs, and also (spoilers) I’m a sucker for supernatural stuff. So I tailored my legacy to fit that.

But when I don’t want to play sometimes I just go in game, grab a few pictures of them in CAS and redo the character page for the 25th time. And that’s okay too. I just always try to make sure I have something to post, even if it’s a small (even if it’s just Riesling’s face. Because I know that’s what y’all want. It’s cool. I get it).

I seriously rambled a lot, but I hope this helps!! Once you get started, please let me know too! I’m rooting for you, non, and any nons to come after you.

[wreathedwith]

How Not To Be a Boy reaction post

I finished this book – Robert Webb’s memoir – last week and it’s a book very dear to me that I had been eagerly anticipating. My thoughts are in chronological order below. Full spoilers for the whole text, hence the read more link (also for reasons of length). If you’ve also read this book and/or this post, please let me know your thoughts!

Here’s the wardrobe that never yielded to Narnia no matter how faithfully I reached for the cold air.

Lovely.

Tall, Welsh and handsome, the presenter Steve Jones…

Apparently this is a key aspect to note of RW’s Flashdance experience.

And after everyone has left and Abbie has gone to bed, I’ll sit in our little garden and drink another two bottles of red wine and smoke about thirty Marlboro Lights. Tomorrow I’ll do something similar – but in the pub in the middle of the day. This behaviour won’t change when our daughter is born, and the moment will come when Abbie will tell me about these months and say as she looks at me steadily: ‘You let me down.’

These parts, mostly come back to later, are very tough reads – it’s sad to think about RW letting his wife down, and there’s more catharsis in the overcoming than the (partial) repeating of his childhood. It’s not so unusual to find searingly honest memoirs, but unlike most of the rest of the book RW doesn’t have time’s distance, substituted names or the death of those involved to fall back on here – he’s being very honest about something quite recent and similar to his current life, even ongoing. On the other hand, a narrative ending where everything was perfect would have seemed trite and not rung true.

15: You sound quite posh. 43: Ah yes. Well, that was your idea. You want to sound like Stephen Fry, don’t you? 15: What’s wrong with that? 43: Nothing. I mean it’s a bit – 15: Look, I just don’t want to sound like fucking Dad, all right? I want to be the opposite of Dad.

Self-evidently this ‘exchange’ says quite a bit about class, emulating heroes and RW’s relationship with his father in under 50 words.

‘Quiet boy’, ‘painfully shy’, ‘you never know he’s there’: these are some of the phrases I catch grown-ups using when they talk about me. But not here, not in the car with Mum.

I found this extremely affecting. It made me think about moments carved out when you feel safe when you generally don’t, being told you’re quiet, time craved alone with parent(s) without siblings, and my own mum of course.

(Shyness: see also: ‘He’s just very shy,’ explains my embarrassed mum. I hear that word a lot. ‘Shy’ is my defining characteristic. Everyone tells me I’m shy so I must be.)

I take a more cautious approach to the outdoor life and I don’t do it with other children. Unless, of course, you count the Guy-Buys. The Guy-Buys are my imaginary gang of friends. I am the Captain of the Guy-Buys, obviously, and they are my twelve – yes, twelve, like the apostles – men.

See also Would I Lie to You?, Series 5 Episode 2.

But mothers underestimated girls and overestimated boys – both in crawling ability and crawling attempts… Expectant mothers who know the foetus is male are more likely to report foetal movement as ‘violent’. So the odds are that Huckleberry, compared to India, is expected to be more independent, more aggressive, more outward-facing and less interested in personal relationships since before he was born. With the best will in the world, bunging him a Barbie when he’s five years old isn’t really going to cut it

This is a fair point, but how do we stop doing this? (It’s fine – I didn’t expect this book to provide me with those sort of answers.) Any unconscious biases are difficult to overcome, but I suppose being more aware of them is a start.

Susan and Lucy in grief for their dead king, the great lion; Charlie, eking out his year-long ration of Wonka Bar; Emil, alone on a train (before he meets his detectives), pricking his finger on the safety pin; the Doctor, losing his mind on Castrovalva; his companion Tegan, longing for home; Luke Skywalker, looking for adventure in a twin sunset – together with Mum or alone in my bedroom, stories were a way to reach distant places. But also, and without my noticing, a way to reach distant people. That’s where I really caught a break. I don’t mean I suddenly had miraculous powers of empathy; I just mean that empathy had a chance.

No note, just appreciation.

Roger has a Commodore VIC-20 which, technically speaking, has a much smaller memory than my 48K Spectrum, but does have the advantage of actually looking like a computer. Still, I’ve grown to love my ‘Speccy’ and treat it with almost religious respect. After each session with Horace Goes Skiing, Jetpack or The Way of the Exploding Fist, I carefully put the Spectrum back in the box that first revealed itself to me under the wrapping paper last Christmas Day.

Gamer chat! (Sadly I think this is it all for the whole book.) RW has also talked about playing arcade games on family holidays to Skegness on S2E6 of Go 8 Bit.

I like it when he calls me ‘Rob’ as he used to at Coningsby Juniors. It’s strictly ‘Webb’ and ‘Baxter’ on the school bus.

Why did (does) this happen even at a mixed sex grammar school. And the girls don’t get it at all? Society is weird. (That’s one way to put the theme of this book, broadly.)

‘What do you want to be when you grow up then, boy?’ he asks. I do the usual. ‘Computers.’ It’s the fastest way to close down this sensitive line of enquiry. Nobody over twenty has the faintest idea what a job involving computers could possibly mean, so it works well.

This is funny and, I would assume, no longer work.

I say, ‘I was always Cowley. Roger Baxter and Matthew Tellis took it in turns to be Bodie or Doyle.’ David Mitchell puts his pint down in surprise.

FUCKING FINALLY, like 33% in, Jesus Christ RW. (I know he doesn’t really fit in for the most part, but what RW does say about DM is completely lovely, so I’m happy enough.)

(DM first mentioned RW 19% of the way into Back Story.)

I say, ‘I was always Cowley. Roger Baxter and Matthew Tellis took it in turns to be Bodie or Doyle.’ David Mitchell puts his pint down in surprise. ‘How come you always got to be Cowley?’ ‘Well, they – hang on, what do you mean, got to be Cowley. No one wanted to be Cowley.’ ‘What are you talking about? Cowley was in charge. Cowley gave the orders.’ ‘What, so at your school everyone wanted to be Cowley?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Seriously? You were all queuing up to be Cowley?’ ‘I don’t remember a queue, but yes, essentially.’ He takes the drag on a cigarette I just gave him. ‘To be fair,’ he says, ‘we were quite weird, our little gang. It’s probably more normal to want to be the macho men.’

I mean they had fairly different upbringings, despite (I would assume) the general assumption of them being broadly similar, and that is made amusingly clear.

David will spend his twenties being the only example I’ve ever known of a successful social smoker. He bums a couple of fags in the pub (good luck with that, American readers) and then doesn’t dream of having another the following morning. I don’t mind this because every now and again he’ll turn up with a pack of ten and hand them over as a contribution to an ongoing tobacco kitty where I keep the change.

Whatever this is just adorable.

It’s more that we just chat while keeping half an eye out for a funny idea creeping up on us. They always do – they wander in from the edges of sight. If you look straight at them, they disappear, like faint stars. You wait until they’re in plain view before stealthily picking up a pen. Then you’ve got them. Talking about TV is typical of us on these occasions, but talking about school is not – we’re in our mid-twenties and too young to find children interesting.

Mid-twenties *sucks in a deep breath*. An insight into the Process here. A focus on TV, often daytime TV specifically, is clear to any watcher of That Mitchell and Webb Look.

Many years later I’ll be talking to a friend (not David, but another comedy writer) who puzzlingly seems to have moved from one terraced house to an almost identical one in a slightly different part of Brixton. He tells me that, in the last place, the neighbours started using his bins for their overflowing rubbish. I ask him, ‘What did you say?’ ‘Oh God, I didn’t say anything,’ he replies. ‘No, we decided it would be easier to move house.’ This makes me laugh for about three minutes. I know he’s joking, but mainly I’m enjoying the idea that I’m not the only grown man who will go to incredible lengths to avoid an awkward conversation.

*Me, scrolling through my BritCom rolodex* who is this

One of QEGS’ battier traditions is the Eisteddfod

I have NEVER heard of a non-Welsh school (I went to a Welsh school) putting on an Eisteddfod; please get in touch if you can give me further evidence to the contrary.

It becomes obvious that once you’ve got their attention, you can wait. And you can make them wait with you. In fact, the longer you make them wait for ‘Indeed, sir’, the bigger the laugh will be when you say it. Confusingly, if you wait too long, they won’t laugh at all. So I start to listen to the audience. I start to time it.

I’ve read (*cough*) quite a lot of books about comedians’ early lives, and something like this generally happens in them, but I think RW does write about it particularly well.

Suddenly I have a name for that feeling I had in Dad’s car on the way back from the Flashdance fireworks. That feeling, the one that made me blush, was an overwhelming desire to be famous.

I mean, I can’t believe there is a linear through-time Flashdance narrative in this book. Amazing.

So I’ll be famous. And funny writing and acting is what I’ll be famous for. That will help because famous people are safe. Famous people don’t have problems. And they can probably have the radiator on as often as they like. And maybe girls like them.

We move into self-psychologising here quite thoroughly, but I will choose to take this as pretty insightful.

The only person I want to kiss, and to kiss her would make my decade, is Tiffany Rampling, friend of Zelda and the younger sister of my future dream-girl Tess Rampling. Yes, that’s right. One day I will adore Tess and get nowhere. But only after two years of getting nowhere with her sister Tiffany.

‘I only went with her 'cos she looks like you. My god!’

(This is an extremely esoteric observation, but I was slightly disappointed there were no Pulp references within the various music mentioned in this book. I just have to accept RW is a Suede (actually mostly Prince) man.)

I’m in my bedroom, reading in bed. It’s a pity that the Doctor’s companion, Nyssa, has chosen to part company with the Doctor, staying behind to help with the space leper colony. But then, I think, as I remove the last of my clothing, that’s Nyssa for you: beautiful and kind-hearted. I put the book to one side, and think about beautiful Nyssa and how, on the space leper colony, she wouldn’t have anyone to help her if, for example, she somehow got a splinter in her vagina…

…HANG ON, SOMETHING VERY ALARMING BUT FANTASTIC IS HAPPENING! I SHOULD STOP THIS – IT’S MAKING ME GOING TO DO A WEE! NO! IT’S NOT A WEE, IT’S SOMETHING ELSE! IT’S . . . OH MY FUCKING LORD! And thus it was that the would-be Doogie Howser MD of space cunnilingus had his first orgasm.

Ahhhhh hahahaahaha.

Also: points (?) for first getting off to getting a woman off, albeit mostly through the ego-boosting prism of being very good at it.

Also: this is a fandom-related wank, right? This is a first fandom wank. I’m sticking a flag in this for fandom.

‘You’re born naked and the rest is drag.’ RuPaul

You think this book wasn’t going to have a RuPaul quote? Pfft.

‘I’m a man, he says!’ I almost yell at Mum. ‘Only a boy would need to say so.’ It’s a line I’ve been waiting to try out for days.

Ah the performative cleverness of teenagehood *stares back through the mists of time*.

‘I mean, they’re not exactly The Beatles, are they?’ she says, cheerfully. I scowl at the TV and say in a slow pantomime of controlled rage, ‘Not everyone . . . can be . . . the sodding . . . Beatles.’ She chuckles to herself. ‘Soz, Rob,’ she teases. I blink at her queenily and then do a reluctant grin.

Nice use of the adverb ‘queenily’.

And I’ve just noticed that wanting to be famous just for the sake of becoming famous makes you look like a massive twat. I’ll have to come up with a better reason. I’ll have to start saying that fame is an unfortunate side effect of my, I dunno . . . art.

The boy matures. (A bit.)

So what is it about this ‘Will’?

I’ll level with you: it’s when Will turns up the ‘Some highlights have been hidden or truncated due to export limits.’ message starts coming up on my Kindle highlights.

I adore how RW has written Will, and how he has written Will as a first love. We know exactly how RW sees Will (rather than who Will actually is), we feel his awed lust and love. Again, RW doesn’t hold back and it does pay off. I fell in love with Will (well, at least got a bit of a crush on) because I’m reading RW’s point of view of him, and RW is in love with Will, and that is the result of a successful clearly-rendered memoir’s voice.

He’s about the same height and build as me. His hair is darker and he can grow it longer… Will can get his to just wavily flop either side of his thin-framed glasses.

This reminds me of someone else a bit

More Will just because I can:

He’s skinny like me but his collarbones travel just that little bit further before they reach his shoulders, his muscles are slightly more defined, his knees just a bit less knobbly, his legs . . . But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I was talking about his attitude, right? Not his body. It will be instructive that, when introducing you to my new Best Friend, the first thing I want to do is undress him. Probably because I would spend the next five years trying to do exactly that. He’s cool… His clothes just fit. It’s mesmerising. They cling and swing around him like adoring fans. Still, as I say, I just like his attitude. Also, his legs.

I’m not seriously suggesting anything here, but I am reminded – when RW is talking about how completely cool Will is – of the part of Back Story where DM meets RW for the first time.

The second thing I noticed about Robert Webb was his earring… the first thing was his long hair – by which I mean the fact that it was long. I don’t want to accidentally sound romantic: ‘As soon as he walked in I was dazzled by the sheen of his golden locks.’ No, I noticed he had long hair which, I’m sure he’ll mind me saying, at that point in his life was a touch mullety. He looked like a bit of a rebel, a bit cool, left-wing, metrosexual.

The SDP/Liberal Alliance poster in the window of Mr and Mrs Slater’s Horncastle home in 1987 has not gone unnoticed. Neither has the fact that Mum is a Labour supporter or that almost everyone who makes me laugh on TV is some kind of leftie. Politics is suddenly an area where secret hopes (university, being a funny actor) neatly overlap with a general wish to side with Mum against the Men. The facts may be that the Parliamentary Labour Party is composed almost entirely of men and that Mrs Thatcher is a woman, but these facts are to be overlooked for the time being. Where Mum agrees with Mrs Slater and both agree with Stephen Fry and Victoria Wood . . . and where all four disagree with Derek, Dad, Norman Tebbit and Bernard Manning . . . well, let’s just say it will be a long time before I feel the need to read a manifesto. I’m Labour. That’s it.

Politics! This makes RW’s recent-ish leaving of the Labour party seem an even Bigger Deal.

For example, Will does a pleasingly smarmy impression of Education Secretary Kenneth Baker (whom I devastatingly rename Kenneth Faker – oomph! Eat that, Tories!) and I play a contemptuous interviewer which owes a great deal to other people’s impressions of Jeremy Paxman.

This made me laugh in a very ‘self-aware of your teenage self’ sort of way.

Sometimes when I make Will laugh, he throws his head back and I stare at the symmetry of his jaw. I like to think he doesn’t notice.

*internal screaming*

I have three CDs: Revolutions by Jean-Michel Jarre, Kick by INXS and Lovesexy by Prince. All read by a laser. Cool.

I mean, really.

I muster what I imagine to be a knowing smirk, as if Han Solo is big enough to take another of Princess Leia’s witty put-downs.

Oh yeah, and there’s a Star Wars linear thread throughout AND it has a really fucking amazing pay-off at the end! RW may only keep to one massive fuck-off celeb story, but it’s a good one.

The Han Solo thing is really not working for me any more. Lucy doesn’t go out with Han Solo: she goes out with a spotty twenty-year-old called Dean who is often in fights and can play the bass line to ‘A Forest’ by The Cure. Surely everyone but me can play the bass line to ‘A Forest’ by The Cure. Obviously, Will has a guitar and can play the bass line to ‘A Forest’ by The Cure.

The… History Boys… crossover?

I’m counting the hours with dread. Will is nothing if not frank, and I know that when he Does It With Daisy, I will be literally the third to know... How does he get to touch her at all? How does she get to touch him at all? One morning before registration, he wanders round to Form 5S and announces that he’s going to see Prince at Wembley. That is, he’s going with Daisy, Daisy’s dad and some of Daisy’s friends. To London. To see Prince. Because he’s going out with Daisy. I am not invited. Why would I be? No wonder I yearn for a time long ago in a galaxy far away. This galaxy obviously hates me. I start writing poetry.

arghhh this is so painful (and, of course, essentially universal)

Reader, I suspect you think you want a piece of that, but trust me you don’t. I’ve been as candid as my ego allows but I have to draw the line somewhere. No teenage poetry. Not even a Best Of.

hahahahaaaa

‘OK, so . . . you know that thing when you’re trying to get Cresta Run to load on a Spectrum and it doesn’t work because you’ve set the volume on the tape too . . . No.’

OK, I was wrong about the last mention of gaming thing.

I think I was drawn to [Michael Jackson] partly because of his stolen childhood, which manifested as childishness. It turns out that some dads do hit famous children… And what he reminded me of in 1987, when he released Bad, was a painfully shy child playing at being tough. If you want to see a real-life Guy-Buy, have a look at that album cover. There he is with his silly costume and unlikely bravado. And that terrible fear very nearly hidden in make-believe… I’ve never seen a performance like it... It’s so beautiful. The way he moves around that stage, you’d have to be mad to take your eyes off him for an instant. It’s also a hell of a song, despite, or perhaps because of, the same weird boy/man disconnect – he’s written a song about contested paternity when the last thing you can imagine Michael Jackson doing is having sex. I like it that he might be a virgin. I also have to admit that I like the way he’s accidentally outperformed his older brothers and utterly eclipsed his violent father.

This whole section (being a fan, again) is wonderfully written.

And I find out something else too. Even though I think I’ve worked out how he does it, when I watch the whole thing again, it still looks like magic. Taking something to pieces doesn’t spoil the whole when you put it back together. You can still love the effortlessness even when you’ve noticed the effort. Not before time, I finally start reading books in the same way. Not just to enjoy what a writer did, but for the pleasure of figuring out how they did it.

I like this part too, although I do have some slightly more complicated thoughts on this. (This is the root of moving from reading to creative writing – the root in any skill from moving from a fan and consumer to creator as well – but if you love a piece of writing for non-literary reasons and you have a sinking feeling it would not stand up to the scrutiny of close analysis, it is tempting to leave it well alone. On the other hand, much of my personal joy in the consumption of something creative that I adore comes from relentlessly close analysis, as is self-evident from my long relationship with fandom and this ludicrously long blog post.)

I wait till no one else is in the Form room and ask Mrs Slater if it’s ridiculous for me to think of Cambridge.

This takes bravery as, of course, does the reapplication of himself and the getting-in-eventually, the going back to school for another year, rather than just going to another university, all from a 17, 18, 19 year old who had lost his mum. It says something about RW’s focussed desire to go to Cambridge in order to be a famous comedian (and he also cites some snobbery), but it’s also hugely impressive.

Will puts 50p in the jukebox. ‘Bobs, at some point you’re going to have to face the fact that you’re about as likely to have sex with Tess Rampling as I am with bloody . . . Trevor McDonald.’

A note: it’s interesting to see RW’s name change throughout this book according to the situation: Robert to his mother, Robbie to Mark, the little brother, Rob when he’s at university, ‘Bobs when Will’s being all casual and cool here, Bobbington when that outgoing Footlights president is being a bit of a dick… there are a lot of different names.

[Will] runs a careless hand through his hair in a way that makes me want to jump him right here and right now

*swoons*

‘Have you fingered her yet, then?’ enquires Pete through another gobful of crisps. ‘Honestly, Peter, don’t be so crude,’ Will replies, putting his brandy down and producing a soft-pack of Lucky Strike out of his black 501s. ‘Of course I’ve fingered her. She’s lovely.’

This is like, I don’t know, if the Inbetweeners interacted with their idea of a successful human being.

At home I listen to ‘Slow Love’ by Prince and think of Tess. I listen to ‘I’m Not in Love’ by 10cc and think of Will. It’s difficult to know which one to have a hopeless wank about first.

*Me, screaming through the void* It’s going to be OK Robert Webb! It’s all going to be OK!

I try to look on the bright side – at least the way I feel about Tess proves that I’m not gay. Rationally, I can see that being gay is fine, but it looks like gay men have to put up with a whole world of stupid nonsense that straighties with a one-off fixation get to ignore. And, if I’m honest, the way I lust after Will feels not only dangerous and exciting but also shameful and wrong. The Sovereign Importance of Early Homophobia has done its work. It’s like I’m left with a closet homophobia – a Farage in the garage. Or, as I would have pronounced it at the time, a Farridge in the garridge.

There’s not loads of this chat in the book (and why necessarily should there be) but the reader gains some important internal feelings of teenage-RW context here.

[Diary extract] He [Will] hit me with it. He started talking about how he’s shagged Daisy on Friday night while watching a video of Krull.

The Krull detail is a beautiful one to be recorded for posterity.

-

I found out that Mum had cancer in early March, and three weeks later, I found out that she wasn’t going to survive it.

As RW has rightly said when doing interviews and other press for this book, the grief in this book is universal: everyone has lost someone. I’m not claiming I’m special. But not only as someone who left a comprehensive school in an isolated area to study English at a newer Oxbridge college you don’t hear so much from, but also as someone who lost their mum at a fairly young age (I was 22 – this is, to be noted, very much not the same as 17) to cancer on almost exactly as swift a timeline as RW’s mum, I had yearned for this book and I was emotionally steeling myself for this part of the text – after all, through RW’s structural choices (and from what I knew about RW already), we know it’s coming. We are exactly 50% of the way through the book and this profound loss is the heart of the book. Yes, I cried.

I’m remembering its implacable seriousness. The way the danger, the terror was unswervable, non-negotiable – this was going to hurt and there was nothing to be done and nowhere to hide.

-

Compared to the mad-cat-on-a-wall-of-death infatuations with Tiffany, Jill, Tess, Will, Marina and about three other girls and a boy that I haven’t troubled you with…

This intrigues me because of RW describing Will as a ‘one-off fixation’ earlier on (although that was written from the viewpoint of RW at a slightly younger age, and in the context of being worried about being gay). There’s also Sam, but he doesn’t come until university. It’s not just once, although he notes that the “Michael Portillo line” he uses later is true.

I’ve got an English exam in the morning, History on Thursday and Economics on Friday.

Perpetually surprised throughout this book over RW’s third A-level being Economics.

Two seventeen-year-old boys are holding hands in bed. One of them is Will; the other one has just stopped crying. Will is wondering how long this is going to take. It was likely that being best mates with someone whose mum has just died was going to involve some kind of emotional doobly-woobly, but he wasn’t expecting it here and now, at 5 a.m. in a double bed in a rented holiday house in Torquay. There again, there’s never a good time for this sort of thing. I feel an urge to get up and put some clothes on. But then – not so fast – because Will is holding my hand. He never holds my hand… I’m not thinking about this in bed. Instead, I’m thinking the thing that I usually think in the company of Will – ‘I wonder what Will is thinking?’ He shifts his weight slightly. ‘I didn’t hear Ralph come in. D’you think he’s sleeping on the beach again?’ Oh, OK – that’s that then. Gently, I let go of Will’s hand.

 Still, the emotional temperature is only just returning to normal and he leaves what he imagines to be a tactful pause before checking his watch with his now free hand. This is the kind of thing that makes me want to found a minor religion in his honour…

...It’s a hot summer and neither of us can be bothered any more with that extra bit of admin to do with special night clothes. Practical enough – and I guess there must be plenty of other male friends who would be happy to share a double bed naked. I just don’t know any. Something is clearly going on, although neither of us could quite say what. It’s unthinkable that Will is secretly gay or even secretly bisexual, but his curiosity – maybe his sympathy – allow him to be secretly something-or-other with me. And as for me, I don’t know what I am, but I know what I like, and what I like is Will. What happens exactly? I touch him; he doesn’t mind; I’m grateful. And repeat. It’s not exactly Torvill and Dean. A few years later, he touches me. I’m even more grateful. Frankly, the sex is pathetic. But the love . . . my goodness me. You don’t choose your first love. I was lucky with Will.

Whatever’s going on, it’s only the eye-catching headline of the real-life story of everyday teenagers titting around. We drive to Boston and walk into River Island, hearing En Vogue’s ‘Hold On’ playing through the speakers and suddenly notice we’re striding down parallel aisles to the beat. We get to the end of the shop, turn round and stride straight out again, like idiotic dudes. And all the rest – the hysterical argument about whether Oliver Reed was in Castaway or The Blue Lagoon, the underage piss-ups in fields before barn-dances, the joint love for all things Prince, Robin Williams, and Fry and Laurie, the competitive impressions of friends and teachers, the pound-a-pint games of pool, my attempts to teach him the moonwalk, his attempts to teach me the chords of A and D, the many splendid parties and the fun, the honest-to-God fun of it. And there he is, holding my hand in the dark because he’s friend enough and man enough.

The friendship will last. But soon, he’ll have a girlfriend, one he’ll be crazy about. The sense that he’s crossed the boundaries of his masculinity will catch up with him and he’ll become colder towards me for a while. And he’ll remember that he should care, as he currently does not care – now, in August 1990 – as he gets out of bed and saunters from the room towards the loo, that I am watching the lean, easy movement of his body in the breaking dawn light. As things are, he looks straight back at me with a tarty smirk as he goes through the door. In the window the closed drapes have begun to glow with the last day of the holiday. Gentle beams of light pierce the cracks and tears in the fabric as if a benign alien power were probing the room for signs of intelligent life. I notice the moment, and because I am seventeen, I notice myself noticing. I marvel that something so present will soon become real only in memory. This moment, a happy one, will vanish. But it will be there to be recreated another time, any time – just as I daily reconstruct the sound of my mother’s voice.

This is a ludicrous amount to quote in one chunk, but I won’t make much attempt at an apology because I think this is a beautiful passage that I found gentle and peaceful and cathartic and heart-skipping and it ends with RW, writing now, thinking back to something that happened but has not gone.

This gives me a windfall of £615 and I blow £500 of it on Chesney. It’s a sporty-looking two-tone blue coupé with a curvy back windscreen and a five-speed gearbox which belies its tiny engine. It beeps when you put it in reverse. I love it.

First car! Independence! (DM left home to go to Cambridge but he wasn’t escaping anything much and never learned to drive; RW learned to drive and bought a car with his mum’s life insurance policy and was desperate to leave home by the time he’d had to do a third year of sixth form – discuss.)

Carole, my mum’s top friend and increasingly one of my own, steps in with the offer of a lift, which becomes the offer of three lifts. We visit King’s College, then Robinson College and then finally she drives me to my interview – at Robinson College.

I can’t work out for sure from this book (I know no-one cares) whether RW applied to King’s and was pooled pre-interview or whether he just visited King’s and then ended up applying to Robinson.

(See later: I picked my Cambridge college – Robinson. They want AAB so I better bloody well pull my socks up.)

Robinson sends me an offer of a place if I get AAB. My second choice, Leeds, offers ABC.

Grade inflation – RW’s may have been a compassionate offer as he had to get AAA next year. Since the introduction of A*s at A-level the standard offer is A*A*A – A*AA. Leeds asks for AAA for their English Literature course these days.

Two men in grief, two men who can’t cook and don’t know how to work the washing machine, two men who don’t know how to talk to each other and who haven’t got the first clue about bringing up a child. One man who is still a boy, who thinks his exams are the most important thing in the universe, but who can’t or won’t do any work. One man who left school at fifteen, but goes along with the idea of education while finding it faintly ridiculous.

Baked the day she suddenly dropped dead we chew it slowly that last apple pie. Shocked into sleeplessness you're scared of bed. We never could talk much, and now don't try. You're like book ends, the pair of you, she'd say, Hog that grate, say nothing, sit, sleep, stare… The 'scholar' me, you, worn out on poor pay, only our silence made us seem a pair. Not as good for staring in, blue gas, too regular each bud, each yellow spike. At night you need my company to pass and she not here to tell us we're alike! You're life's all shattered into smithereens. Back in our silences and sullen looks, for all the Scotch we drink, what's still between's not the thirty or so years, but books, books, books.

- Book Ends I, Tony Harrison

In my memory, she’s alive and well, not poor and old. Any year now, I might have to say something. Actually no, easier just to move house.

This is a nice callback.

 At the same time I rack my brain for a memory of Woodhall Spa ever having a launderette. Like the one in the Levi’s advert with the soundtrack of ‘I Heard It Through the Grapevine’ and that beautiful model taking his clothes off. No, don’t think about the model…

It’ll be fine. As long as he doesn’t know I’m still thinking about Nick Kamen in his boxer shorts, it’ll be fine.

(Good god.) Happily, we do get some resolution as to the concern over fears of the reaction towards the end of the book as well.

As Will was wearing black 501s earlier, I’ve now cast Nick Kamen as Will in my head in some sort of terrible conflation.

Accountancy, for crying out loud. To me, Will is destined to be an accountant the way Jay Gatsby was always going to end up selling pet insurance. But I suppose the way I see Will isn’t the way he sees himself…

This is what I mean by the fact that Will in the book is how RW, in love, sees him, not who he actually is.

I notice that there are rumours about me and Will which I do nothing to discourage. In fact, I start to cultivate a deliberate sexual ambiguity. In a common-room chat about Thelma & Louise, I casually mention that Brad Pitt is ‘obviously some beautiful model they’ve given a few lines to’ and my co-winkies seem to appreciate my bullshit insights into Hollywood while going a bit quiet at that use of the word ‘beautiful’. It doesn’t take much.

I enjoyed these descriptions of RW, frustrated at being left behind to do another year of sixth form, rebelling further by cultivating an ambiguous sexuality.

Prince Hal is either going to leap onto his horse in a single bound or carry on getting pissed with Falstaff. Luke is either going to leave Tatooine forever, or go to work as a rent boy in the Mos Eisley cantina.

Striking This Is It turn of phrase.

I’m currently under the impression that it’s all to do with irony and detachment. I think that whatever they say, clever people don’t mean it. I expect in the next hour to be in the exclusive company of people who would never dream of calling a spade a spade. The very idea! Surely, it’s all going to be rather camp.

I actually wouldn’t say this was an incorrect perception.

And by the time we pass Huntingdon, my accent is finally in line with the geography of England. It was a good four years ago that I started to say ‘carstle’ instead of ‘caastle’ and ‘ahp’ instead of ‘oop’. All the affectations are coming home, I think. To the place where they won’t be affectations any more. No more pretending.

More accent affectation. People still do this, because I know people at university who did.

So far I’ve learnt that every one of their parents is a teacher, academic or writer. All ten parents are seemingly all still married.

We get a big change in a short space of time in the book, which works well narratively, between RW being desperate to be different, and RW feeling very aware that he does not seamlessly fitting in. He both does and does not now desire to be different from the people he does not seamlessly fit in with.

See also:

I’ve just turned twenty. With my September birthday and my unmissable third-year sixth form, it feels like I’m two years late to the party and also two years under-prepared.

Again, this would have been to quite a reasonable extent not the experience of DM. (To be considered, DM also went, by contrast, to Cambridge’s oldest college.)

And:

I like the general chuckle. But something is wrong. I’ve taken off my jumper to reveal what was once a grey T-shirt but which last summer I cut into the shape of a grey vest. My longish hair has grown much faster at the back, so I look less like a foppish public schoolboy and more like a mullet-wielding footballer. The gold stud in my left ear that was daringly effeminate in Woodhall Spa now feels weirdly aggressive, as do my Doc Martens boots and the box of condoms visible from within the bedside cupboard, left artfully ajar. The summer spent painting all ninety-four of the Dower House window frames has, for the first time, given me some muscle definition in my arms and shoulders but . . . did I have to wear a vest? And why, next to the Laurel and Hardy poster, is there a page of A4 on which I’ve written ‘Je suis une Communiste’ in chunky hip hop writing? Why, within hours of arriving at Cambridge, did I make a sign that said ‘Je suis une Communiste’ in chunky hip hop writing and put it up on the wall?

Oh my god, Je suis une Communiste did make me laugh.

So I re-cross my legs while unobtrusively lighting a cigarette with the Zippo that Will gave me as a going-away present.

(pause for minor swoon over Will’s going away present here.)

It’s about this time that I give up reading. That’s to say, at the beginning of my English degree. So, naturally, this is also where the lying has to start in earnest. As an English student, reading books and writing essays about books should really be quite high up there in a time and motion study of how I spend my day. The trouble is, much as novels, plays and poems have previously been a solace and an inspiration, reading them is now my job. I used to be practically the only boy who loved reading: now I’m surrounded by them. Therefore: screw reading.

He’s putting this down to his pushing back, his rebellion, but it’s not exactly surprising – we know from following the book through, from RW’s teenage diaries, that he wanted to go to Cambridge to be in the Footlights and become a famous comedy writer/performer. Lots of similar autobiographical writings, including RW’s hero Stephen Fry, mention how the academic work they put in to get to Cambridge drops off at this point now they are able put in the hours with like-minded people on comedy writing and performing.

It takes a particular type of focus and effort to do this, however – because of its reputation, the student comedy scene at Cambridge in and of itself is competitive and it’s also one without guarantee of paid work at the end of it (generally, of course, through comedians’ memoirs we here about the successful ones – although Tristam Hunt’s done alright for himself) and the stress from not doing academic work (as RW mentions later) and the pressure to expend your greatest amount of effort on that is substantial.

At this point, Dr Weiss gave me a one-to-one ticking off so gentle it had the effect of encouraging me to do even less. ‘Robert, it’s possible that you could secure a 2:1 with native intelligence alone, but unlikely. And certainly not a First.’ Oh Judy mate, that’s FINE! That’s BRILLIANT NEWS! Who needs a First? I’m going to be a wealthy TV star!

I think it also helps if you are reasonably sure of yourself.

God, this thing is starting to read like Confessions of a Sex Maniac! It’s awful I know, but I’m just recounting the facts. Let’s be clear, poppet, you don’t think it’s awful in the slightest. You’re having a ball and good for you. Pity about all the lying, though, dearest. Pity about the ‘facts’.

So it was always debatable how canon or how fanon it was that RW had a lot of sex and a lot of girlfriends, or whether this was just e.g. a contrast with DM, but yeah, he had quite a lot of sex.

It’ll come down to love and sex again. Unrewarding sex and unrequited love. Nothing very unusual, but then the privilege of being young is a total lack of perspective. So there could never be a sexier, more gorgeous woman than Lily-the-Goth. And there could never be a more beautiful, more enigmatic man than Mags’ friend Sam (the-former-Goth). And there could never be a turn of events more calamitous than my sort-of girlfriend Lily, and my sort-of minor deity Sam, falling in love with each other.

The nightmare: your crushes dating each other.

(I like how he calls men ‘beautiful’ quite often.)

Another man, and another tragic matter of the heart. At least it gets the poor boy to counselling.

At the end of my first year, the funny (and outgoing) outgoing president Miles Williams has left me a kind note asking me to give him a ring. I was immediately star-struck not just because the president had noticed my existence but also because he had his own telephone number. I nervously dial from one of the Robinson phone booths. ‘Aah, young Webbington! Thanks for calling, just catching up on a bit of cricket on the telly.’ Miles has been brilliantly compèring Smokers all year and I’m unnerved by the sound of his voice, as well as by the news that he’s in possession of not just a phone number but a television. Jesus, what else do you get if you’re president? A speedboat? An annuity?

This is amusing, but also quite a difference between 90s studenting and now-ish.

You and that Tristram Hunt boy. Do you get on with Tristram?’ ‘Er, I haven’t actually met him.’ ‘Nice chap, bit wet behind the ears, bit of a leftie by all accounts but you can’t have everything’

Ahhhh Britain is ridiculous part 927.

Fine, I thought. I’ll just learn Anglo-Saxon. I mean, how hard can it be? How many words can they have possibly invented before 1066? Boat? Sword? Rain? This is going to be a doss!

O.O

It’s with that attitude that I turn up at my first Old English seminar. In front of about seventy students, the Canadian tutor holds up a copy of his book: A Guide to Old English. ‘Read this book,’ he chortles in an accent that’s weird even for a Canadian, ‘and you’ll never need to come to one of my seminars again!’ The undergraduates around me chuckle indulgently. Not come back to the seminars! The very thought! My goodness!

The thing is, when people say things like this at Oxbridge is that they don’t expect at least some of the people there to take you seriously.

‘It’s all stupid, really. There’s a boy here that I fell in love with. I thought he was the best thing in the world. I’d just read The Picture of Dorian Gray and then he walked into the bar and I couldn’t believe my eyes. But I was wrong to give him my trust.’…

Bad enough he just had to endure an emotional outpouring from a semi-hysterical child, but he has also been made to consider that if there’s one thing that would look worse for Robinson than a 2:1 student getting a Third, it’s probably a 2:1 student lobbing himself off a high balcony.

The Education Committee scene is a set piece tour de force.

I kept hearing this first-year’s name and it was annoying me. I knew he had something, but people wouldn’t shut up. I was going to have to see for myself.

We’ve hopped back to my second year. I’m in a little performance venue called The Playroom to watch a one-hour non-Footlights revue called Go to Work on an Egg. A bunch of mates from Peterhouse and Jesus College have cobbled it together, apparently. Eddie had put me in charge of Smokers and I’ve auditioned most of them. They’re fine but let’s not get carried away. Except for one.

As a first-year, he was never going to be in the Tour Show, but he’d been asked to contribute material and I’d written a sketch with him. The sketch was nothing special, but that wasn’t unusual. It’s just that we’d nearly made each other sick with laughter while writing it. That was both special and unusual.

He’s on stage as the lights come up. Come on then, young David Mitchell. Let’s see what you’ve got. Oh, I see. You’ve got everything. I spend the hour enjoying the sketches without once taking my eyes off David.

He’s very funny, which helps. But I’ve seen other funny student performers. This is different. He’s completely committed, but entirely natural. He can afford to seem generous to the other performers because he’s going to get your attention just by standing still. It’s a precious combination of ease and focus that I conceitedly think reminds me of me. He looks like he lives there. It’s an exciting but also worrying turn of events. What am I going to do about this?

Fucking finally part 2. We already got DM’s perspective in Back Story.

This is lovely.

I pop the question. I don’t quite say, ‘Join me, and together we can rule Footlights galaxy as . . . two blokes’, but I do suggest we do a show. He’s a polite young man from a minor public school, as well as a first-year being asked out on a big comedy date by next year’s vice-president. So I can’t help hoping he’ll look pleased. What he actually looks like is Charlie Bucket just after Willy Wonka offers him a Chocolate Factory.

HEARTS FOR EYES

There again, once a sensitive young man belatedly understands that he’s been dumped, it’s only natural for him to start sensitively sleeping around. A whole eight days later, the panto cast party sees me trying to charm all the people I’ve variously ignored, patronised or insulted over the previous few weeks. One of them is a very nice girl called Jenna. She beckons me over . . .

I know it was fanon-canon to give RW a lot of girlfriends, but… eight days between one long term relationship and another! He’s probably had a good think as to whether this means anything, so I won’t go into it further here.

But I suppose I’m at least consistent. I didn’t come here to get an excellent degree. I came here to meet someone like David Mitchell. As it turned out, I met the actual David Mitchell, which was even better.

(hearts for eyes again)

David and I are two years into the business of creating a career in comedy and we do so with the quiet hysteria of the chronically obscure and stonily broke. We write together, we travel together to meetings, we travel back from them, we perform fringe stuff together, we watch TV, we stop watching TV and go to the pub, we walk home from the pub, we say goodnight. He is the first vertical person I see in the morning and the last at night. We’re annoying each other and I’m not helping the situation by living in his flat without paying any rent. But the flat for which I am paying rent seems a long walk away and contains a cat that isn’t house-trained. So I can either live with David, or I can live with a load of piss and shit. He doesn’t seem as flattered by my preference as I might have hoped.

It’s interesting to see this here, although of course they’ve talked before about getting fed up with each other.

Before then, for the two years after leaving college, I’d lived on Super Noodles and toast. I tried to avoid opening letters or answering the phone in case it was the landlord, the bank or the DSS. I was claiming housing benefit and taking whatever part-time work turned up. I worked as an usher in a theatre; I drove a lorry; I worked in a photo-library for a magazine about buildings (that’s Buildings Magazine). Jenna had a credit card and would occasionally bail me out. I tried to get my own credit card, but was refused. It was the Co-op offering a card to Labour members that turned me down. I must say, I thought that took the biscuit.

It’s been said before elsewhere by others, but I don’t know how you would do this in London today.

Jenna bailing him out with her credit card: shout out to partners enabling creative dreams.

And it seems to Jenna and me, as once again she goes glumly to bed and I stay up with a bottle of wine to play Civilization II for another two hours,

(OK, gaming again, fine.)

The pilot called P.O.V. has been commissioned for a whole Channel 4 series and the new title is Peep Show. I do the first week’s filming and Jenna even leaves me some warm food for when I get in at night.

I can’t believe Peep Show started so long ago RW wasn’t even with Abbie back then.

When she hears me say that none of Shakespeare’s comedies are actually funny, she starts singing a made-up song called ‘Pretty boy is a fucking moron’.

We all love Abbie, obviously.

We pack St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden – ‘the Actors’ Church’ – with lots of other family and friends. ‘This room,’ says my best man, David Mitchell, ‘is full of very nice people.’

Again, aw.

‘But before her . . .’ I take the Michael Portillo line because, it happens to be true, ‘as a teenager and a younger man . . .’ ‘Go on, boy. None of my business. Go on.’ ‘. . . not all the people I had, erm, relations with were girls. In fact, one or two of them were boys.’…

…Ultimately, we’re not talking about much sex with many people… Dad made exceptions for me just as I made exceptions for him. His views on snooty, Champagne socialist, metropolitan, formally pan-affectionate, middle-class Oxbridge luvvies had to take a step back when he noticed he had one for a son.

Well there you go then, I guess.

I look at my CV over those years and there’s persuasive evidence of breadwinning panic. Great Movie Mistakes, Argumental, Robert’s Web, Pop’s Greatest Dance Crazes, Young, Dumb and Living Off Mum, and almost any ad or voice-over going. I did all this stuff as well as I technically could, but my heart wasn’t in it and the audience noticed.

Hard to know what to say about this. I noted at the time that this stuff did coincide with starting a family and the higher costs that entails, but I wouldn’t have necessarily guessed they were to be regretted (except maybe the higher rate of panel shows).

But for now, there’s Daddy in the picture, standing outside, waving at his two daughters through the kitchen window. It’s as if he prefers it. It’s as if young families make Daddy sad.

tough read tough read (see my comments earlier)

How did you get on? If you scored 5,634, then congratulations because . . . That’s Numberwang! If you didn’t get 5,634, commiserations. Also, if you answered anything other than d) for any question, then you have been Wangernumbed and must now be taken out to be gassed. On with the show!

I love a good Numberwang reference.

I’m sure we’ve all seen it, the Care Home Kaleidoscope Synecdoche (I expect this phrase will catch on): a house concentrated into a single, glittering room. Trinkets, ornaments, pictures in frames – the mementos that survived the downsize. They stand for all the treasures – including the people – left behind.

I found this well-observed.

‘Well, yeah . . . she was a great reader, our Pat. By guy!’ ‘By guy’ is the way John softens ‘By God’ when in the presence of women or children. It reminds me of something, but I don’t follow the thought: before me is the great pleasure of reading to my daughter and grandfather at the same time.

‘By guy . . .’ John had said. By guy . . . Guy-Buy? Is that where I got the name, all those years ago? The name for the Guy-Buys, my gang of twelve disciples, by God? I doubt it, but it’s tempting to think so. Life is a mess and the desire is always to try and straighten it out instead of embracing it as it is; to unpick the cobweb into its silvery thread.

I like this: writing a memoir is about straightening a life (messy) out into a coherent narrative, with callbacks and foreshadowing just like any good fictional story, but even the most realism-centred novel isn’t as real as real life. In a story you’d never get two main characters with the same name because it would be too confusing. In this book, which is about real events, RW changed the name of his friend Jonathan Dryden Taylor because he had a John (his grandad) in the book already.

‘Are dragons real?’ I wrestle with this for a moment, but decide not to lie. ‘No, sweetheart. There are no real dragons.’ Ezzie takes this in and looks again at the pictures in the book. ‘But they’re real in the story.’ Gosh. That’s a good way of putting it. Must remember that one. ‘Yes, my love. They’re real in the story.’

Another good meditation on fiction.

Mr Rochester has a lot to answer for. Charlotte Brontë’s original Fifty Shades of Moody Twat is the direct precursor of Dirty Den and the accompanying notion that only a tall, dark emotional car-crash can make anyone come.

Well, excuse you.

I don’t drink alone and I’ve quit smoking. It remains a sexist world and I can’t change it for my daughters the way I would like to. But I can try to improve the situation one man at a time. Starting with me.

He had three grandsons. When I told him, in 2008, that Abbie was expecting a baby, he said, ‘It’ll be a boy, boy. The Webbs only do boys.’ And then when we turned up with a girl, followed by another girl, he was delighted and said, ‘Robert has to be different, doesn’t he?’ Yes. Robert has to be different.

I’ll leave with these final two quotes, except one final delightful DM thanks from the acknowledgements:

[Thank you] to David Mitchell for helping me to remember what happened and when. His excellent Back Story was a useful resource for the university section of the book, but I pestered him about chronology all the same. Without wishing to turn this into a mawkish BAFTA acceptance speech… I wouldn’t be in a position to write this book without the partnership that I formed with the gentle and brilliant David Mitchell.