Expensive and beautiful silk scarves... FOR EVERYONE!

[sabinetzin]

1. I don't understand the Sims. arymabeth made fun of me because I don't like to let them nap. I want them to have a good night's sleep! They shouldn't sleep until they're tired!

IDK. My Sims also never leave the house. I always get annoyed when they have to go places and talk to people. This is... probably why I hardly play the Sims anymore.

2. I regret to inform you that I dropped out of Remix. :/ I just had nothing. The author hadn't written much in the fandom we matched on; there was this one thing that I thought I might could work with, but then I was just like, I'm retracing my steps, I've written this story before, I can't write it any better.

So. I feel bad, because I've dropped out of several challenges lately, but there's nothing to be done, except to stop entering challenges, which is my present plan of action.

3. I have discussed this a little on tumblr, but: I may be very close to fulfilling a great desire, flist. I may be buying a theremin. I don't want to jinx it, but there's a Moog going for a really good price right now- I could get a B3 or a Zep for cheaper, but if I'm going to do this, I'm not going to screw around about it. Zep is pretty much for flailing around pretending to be Jimmy Page, and B3 just... isn't as good. So I'd rather just shell out the extra money for the Moog and be srsface about it- that is, of course, provided I can buy this Moog, because I fucking CANNOT afford a new Moog theremin.

If I'm going to buy this and learn to play it, I'm going to learn it properly and seriously; I'm not buying it to make spooky noises with when you can do something like this or this- no wait, sorry, this with it.

But I will be trying this just as soon as I can.

I mean, seriously, how could you look at a theremin and NOT want to play it? Truly, it is the instrument of wizards. Bonus: you can always let your dumb friends screw around with it with no fear- you don't actually touch it to play it, so they can't break anything.

And oh, I am finally going to get back at that neighbor kid who plays the recorder badly all afternoon.

4. I reaaaaally gotta get my shit together. The "semester" is almost over, but I've just realized that it's pretty much gonna be seven more weeks before I'm actually done. Ugh. The amount of hurry-up-and-wait is what I really can't stand. I should be in my second week of comps now, but... I'm not. Good and bad.

I would like it to be Comic-Con right now, plznthnx.

5. Right right right, that's the other thing I was going to post: timestamp meme time again!

Give me one of my stories, and a timestamp sometime in the future (after the end of the story), or sometime in the past (before the story started), and I'll write you at least a hundred words some words of what happened then, whether it's five minutes before the story started or ten years in the future.

Comments

[schmerica]

How about one week after The Itchy and Scratchy Show?

[sabinetzin]

Erik doesn't actually know how long it took until Hank formulated the antidote; he's fairly sure he had already passed out before Hank administered it. It was long enough that the next few days were problematic, as far as walking was concerned. Honestly, everything involving the lower half of his body was difficult, what with the bruising and the soreness. He didn't see Charles at all; he was similarly laid up, and according to Raven, who couldn't seem to stop herself from running between the two of them and trying to nursemaid them both at once, he was probably worse off than Erik, for, well. Indelicate reasons.

But it's a week later, and things are more or less back to normal, except that Erik can't bring himself to look Charles in the eye now. There are a lot of dinners with very little eye contact right there at the beginning, because Hank won't look at anyone, too busy being comprehensively mortified and ashamed. Erik's reasons for not looking at Charles are, however, completely different.

Because every time he catches Charles's eye, all he can think of is all the terrible things Charles said to him.

Erik has no idea whether Charles has any intention at all of going through with any of them. Erik himself has said some ridiculous things in the heat of the moment, things that sounded astoundingly hot at the time and incredibly impractical when he actually thought about them. While he would very much like Charles to do any or all of the things he said he wanted, it doesn't seem right to press, not given how embarrassing the results might be.

After supper- another event where nobody really talks but Alex and Darwin, who are suspiciously nonchalant about the whole extended-gay-quarantine-sex thing- Erik goes back to his room. He'll probably spend the rest of the evening reading; normally he might sit outside or in the den with his book or play chess with Charles or something, but he's not particularly ashamed to say that he feels like hiding out right at the moment.

Erik is alone for about half an hour before there's a knock at the door. When he opens it, Charles is standing there, looking nervous; Erik knew this had to be coming.

"If I could have a word with you," Charles says, and he slips in, ducking between Erik and the doorframe. He's dressed oddly, wearing his sweats and a pair of sandals, as if he's going to have a confrontation with Erik and then make a few laps around the house to celebrate.

"Come in," Erik says sarcastically, shutting the door.

"Please, have a seat," Charles tells him. "The edge of the bed, I think." When Erik doesn't immediately do as he says, Charles makes a little shooing motion. "Go on, sit down." Erik cocks an eyebrow at him, but he does it, curious to see where this is going. "Are you comfortable?"

"Physically," Erik replies.

"Good," Charles says, ignoring the implications of that statement. He looks around the room, considering; he walks over to the armchair, looking at it critically, but he seems displeased with it. "Stay there," he says, turning and leaving the room.

He's gone just long enough for Erik to wonder if he could escape through the window and avoid this conversation entirely. When Charles returns, he's carrying the pad from the bench in the hallway, which flops around unhelpfully as he tries to deal with it and shut the door at the same time; Erik doesn't miss the fact that he locks the door behind him.

The cushion tries to jump out of his hands several times, but Charles finally gets it to fold in half. "Feet apart," Charles tells him, and when Erik spreads his legs, Charles sets the cushion on the floor between them, nudging it into place with his foot. He steps back, taking a deep breath. "There, that's sorted," he says, and then he kicks off his sandals. He peels off his sweatshirt, and Erik very suddenly realizes what's going on.

Charles pushes his sweatpants down, and then he's naked in the middle of Erik's room; he walks over, and then he's naked at Erik's feet.

Erik looks down at him in complete shock. "I told you what I was going to do," Charles says, putting his hands on Erik's knees and sliding them slowly up Erik's thighs. "Unless, that is, you don't want me to."

"Oh, no, please, be my guest," Erik stammers.

Charles grins. "Good," he says, and then he leans forward and drags Erik's Zipper down with his teeth. "Then let's begin."

[schmerica]

This is outstanding yesssssssss. <33

[sabinetzin]

<3 <3 <3