#my roommate set off the smoke alarm while I was writing up this post

[ellieputellas]

can you write roommate!alexia smut

caught in the act | a. putellas x reader

— You catch your roommate Alexia touching herself to your photos.

tags: roommate!Alexia, barçaB!reader, smut, masturbation, mentions of fingering, mention of age gap, a bit of degradation and dirty talk, not proofread 🔞 wc: 2k+

Alexia hated having you as a roommate.

It wasn't because of the fact that you had a bad habit of putting off washing the dishes until the next morning; she learned to deal with it and wash them for you whenever it did bother her. It also wasn't because you were always watching Netflix past midnight, at full volume while she tried to get enough sleep for early morning training the next day, fully knowing the walls between your rooms were paper thin. She's learned to fall asleep to the sound of Brooklyn 99 or whatever American TV show you were addicted to at the time. It wasn’t even the fact that she’d have to set her alarm at least 30 minutes ahead of the usual time she’d wake up just so she could force you out of bed so you could both attend your respective training sessions on time.

Instead, she hated how oblivious and clueless you were to how she felt about you.

Just now, there you were in the living room watching a dumb show on Netflix as you simultaneously swiped on Bumble. She hated seeing you looking at other girls, or even getting all dolled up for dates with other girls.

She knew your type. You liked tall, fellow athletes with great style. She wondered why you never noticed her when she fit your type so well. She rolled her eyes at the sight of you fiddling with the dating app and just wanted to return to her room but you already noticed her presence.

"Hey, Alexia." You said calmly. “Come over here.”

She sighed. "Yeah?"

"What do you think about her?" You said as you chewed on the chips you were loudly snacking on. (That was another thing Alexia let you get away with — snacking everywhere and anywhere leading to a mild ant problem.)

Alexia sat beside you on the couch and leaned in to look at your phone. It was someone from Levante’s B team. Alexia frowned. She had to admit. This girl was undeniably hot with her tattoos and fit body but she knew she looked just as good as this player. If not that, she sure as hell was a better player. That should have been some merit to her.

"She’s okay..." It was all she could say to you. She didn’t want to come off as the jealous roommate.

"Really? I kinda think she's smoking hot." You said with a confused look. “She’s the hottest player I’ve played against on the pitch.”

Alexia rolled her eyes and wanted to make a snide comment but let it slide.

“She asked me out after we switched shirts after our match, and I smelled her shirt and it smelled good as fuck.” You shared, making Alexia roll her eyes again. “Plus, she’s taller than I am and you know how that’s my type… but our texts have been stale and boring as fuck.”

Alexia shrugged and tried to focus on the show you were shamelessly ignoring already. “Then just don’t go out with her.”

You sighed. “Yeah… but there is this rookie footballer I matched with on Bumble, she plays for…” You continued to tell Alexia about the other girls you were talking to but she just didn’t give a fuck.

She didn’t wanna know anything about the other girls you were seeing while she’s been into you for so long.

"Anyway, can you help me pick photos from my weekend trip with Emma? She's so great at taking photos that I feel like I have to make two separate posts on instagram just to include all of my hot photos." You said before giving your phone to Alexia. "Just swipe through them and heart all the photos you like."

As soon as she grabbed your phone, she felt her body heat up. The first photo of you was you in front of the pool with your arms up, laughing gleefully. You were wearing the tiniest bikini with a bra top just big enough to cover your nipples and that incredibly skimpy underwear.

All Alexia could think about was pushing them to the side and fucking you hard with her fingers.

Alexia blinked. "You're so...." She couldn't find the words. "Naked?"

You laughed at the older woman’s reaction. "That's all you could say?"

Alexia ignored you, completely fixated by the photos of you. Alexia liked the first photo and proceeded to swipe. The second photo was you with your back turned, exposing your ass. Alexia could feel her mouth salivate as the dirtiest thoughts entered her mind. She kept scrolling, admiring every curve and crevice of your body. She loved the way your boobs spilled over your bra and the way your thong rode up your ass and accentuated your perfect hips. She loved your collarbones but she loved the thought of marking them with her mouth more.

She was practically liking every photo, unable to think objectively of what works on Instagram or whatever. She loved seeing you this exposed.

"You never dress like this usually." Alexia commented, still going back and forth with your photos. She was pretending to be analytical with your photos but her mind was just filled with obscenities.

You huffed. “You only see me in a kit or here at home when I dress like a slob. You don’t know what I dress like.”

Alexia furrowed her eyebrows. “I’ve seen you get dressed up for dates. You’re not usually so…” She shook her head. “Whatever. I never would have imagined you’d like wearing something so tiny.”

Alexia had to swallow as her mouth had been watering at the sight of your photos. You chuckled, oblivious to your roommate's reaction. "Well, you would know that I actually do love tiny swimwear if only you went swimming with us more.���

Alexia took a mental note to say yes to every opportunity to see you in a skimpy bikini. "Still, you never post stuff like this. You only ever post game photos or food photos. This is just out of character for you.” She added on. "You must be posting to impress someone, huh?"

You furrowed your eyebrows and rolled your eyes at her. "I feel like I’m just more grown now. Like, grown enough to post more skin.” You explained. “Besides, can’t I post for myself?”

Wish you would post for me, Alexia thought.

You looked over at Alexia who was still looking through your photos. "God, what's taking you so long? Mesmerized by my tits?"

"You're so cocky." It was all Alexia could say as she blushed. She felt like it was so wrong to be thirsting over her younger roommate like this but she couldn’t help it. You were exactly what she wanted.

You chuckled. "I told you. Emma took really good photos of me! I know I look hot in those."

You looked through the photos Alexia liked and realized the only photos of you she didn't like were the ones where you were covered up. You stifled a chuckle. "Okay, I guess I should post these immediately since it would be so selfish of me to deprive the world of these photos any longer."

"So arrogant." Alexia scoffed under her breath but unbeknownst to you, it turned her on. She loved it when you got all confident. It made her want to praise you and degrade you at the same time. "I'm going back to my room to review some things for some brand deal. Text me if you wanna order food or cook for dinner later."

You absentmindedly nodded as you typed up the perfect Instagram caption and chose the perfect thirst-trap song to go with the Instagram post.

Alexia headed back in her room and immediately pulled out her iPad, refreshing her Instagram feed incessantly. "C'mon, c'mon..." She muttered under her breath. "Just post already."

Finally, your post popped up.

Alexia felt like she couldn't breathe as she was finally able to get a better look at them through the bigger screen. She was finally free to zoom in to your perfectly shaped tits without worrying you'd see. She bit her lip.

It was almost a built-in instinct or bodily response to her the way she immediately positioned herself in front of her iPad; she wasted no time. She propped the device on her bed, blasted a song loud enough to mask her noise, swiftly took off her bottoms, and eventually, guided her hands to feel her own slick with her fingers. She was soaked already just from seeing you.

"Fuck," She muttered as she began rubbing herself, looking at the photo of you on her device. She wished she could have a gigantic TV screen just so she could see more of you at a bigger scale. She wanted to be overwhelmed by the sight of you — to be consumed by your beauty.

She rubbed her clit in circles as she kept her eyes glued on the screen. She cursed again. She thought about your tits. She wondered how they'd feel in her hands. She wanted to feel the softness against her rough and imposing hands; she wanted to know if that kind of touch would make you whimper. She wondered what colors your nipples were and how they'd look and feel... and taste. She so badly wanted to push her tongue against them.

Her legs shivered as she imagined taking your breast in her mouth, sucking on it mercilessly as you moaned under her.

In reality, Alexia was alone in the darkness of her room — her tanned skin illuminated by the sole source of light from her device that blasted music to mask her grunts and the obscene sounds of her wetness.

But in her imagination, Alexia was in your room on top of you, sucking on your breasts as she positioned her knee against your core. In her imagination, you loved to beg and whine. So there you were, underneath her, squirming as she sucked on your nipple and used her hands to play with the other one. She just could tell you were the sensitive type and the idea of you almost teary-eyed due to sheer pleasure caused by her made her even wetter.

She opened her eyes once again to catch a glimpse of you in that one photo where you had a serious face as you slightly bent over. She groaned as she caught sight once again of the flesh of your boobs pressing against the fabric of your bikini. "Fucking whore." It escaped her mouth in a grunt.

In her imagination, you were dressed in the same skimpy bikini. She had your bra cups pushed to the side to grant her easy access to lick all over your boobs, leaving the occasional mark whenever she desired.

"Please, Alexia." She could practically hear your voice say it. "Fuck me now."

Alexia plunged her fingers into her cunt, causing her to grunt loudly as she pumped in and out of herself as mercilessly as she would have with you.

She was fixated on the thought of her fingers thrusting so hard in and out of you that your tits jiggled with every thrust. Alexia somehow felt you were the type to moan loudly, grab your own tits, and beg to fuck her deeper.

"Alexia! Fuck me!"

"You want me so bad, huh? You fucking slut?" She groaned under her breath, almost breathless and winded from how rough she was fucking herself. "I'll fuck you so hard, you'd go stupid."

"Alexia, harder! Please!" The imaginary voice in her brain told her. It felt so realistic

"Yeah?" She called out your name, almost in the form of an animalistic grunt. "You fucking want it harder? You a fucking slut for me?"

She increased the speed of her thrusting, causing her to moan loudly in succession. "Fuck," She said, followed by calling out your name. "Tell me who you belong to."

She pumped in and out of herself, causing her to convulse in the building pressure inside her. Her eyes were shut close but the photo of you in your bikini was permanently burned inside her mind.

"I belong to you!" Her imagination called out.

"Say my name then." She groaned.

"Alexia," It sounded so soft and gentle.

"Louder." She growled as she imagined that it was your pussy she was roughly thrusting into. Her legs shook uncontrollably as she felt herself approaching orgasm. “Say it.”

"Alexia?!" It was practically an exclamation. It felt so real that your voice echoed in her ears.

As Alexia opened her eyes, she was met by the sight of you standing at the door of her room with a shocked face. Almost immediately after, Alexia moaned out loud as her orgasm arrived.

It took half a second for her to realize that she wasn't imagining it anymore. You were there, standing and watching her fuck herself while her obnoxiously larged iPad displayed a photo of you.

"Oh shit." She was in trouble.

a/n: not proofread. part 2 anyone? (also thank u for ur requests!)

[silvensei]

In This Mad Machinery

A human and an android swap bodies, resulting in identity crises, existentialism, philosophy with the boys, and fun!

Detroit: Become Human | gen | 20k | rated T | introspective comedy/sci-fi

Chapter 3 (2.5k words) | [AO3 link] | [first] | < prev | next >

- - - - - - - - - -

A bell chimed above the door as it swung open. A portly woman turned around from the counter, a practiced yet warm smile and greeting at the ready. When she noticed who her new patrons were, she paused and propped a hand on her hip. “Well, look what the cat dragged in!” she teased amicably. “Hank Anderson! Haven’t seen your face ‘round here in ages!”

“Sorry, Bel. You know how life gets in the way,” Connor said, parroting Hank’s briefing from the car. “Is the usual still on the menu?”

“Aw, hon,” she laughed, “joshing as always!”

Connor smiled. He had no idea what that meant.

Fortunately, she turned her attention to the other member of his party. “As much as it’s good to see an old favorite, new faces keep the business going. Name’s Ysabel.”

Hank waved. “Connor.”

“Well, Connor, want a menu? It’s just your typical array of diner classics, but with enough pizzazz to knock your socks off, guaranteed!”

“Oh, no, thanks, ma’am, just a coffee for now.”

“Two cuppa joe and a patty with the fixin’s.” She waved them off and adjusted her apron. “You boys go make yourselves comfortable, y’hear?”

She left for the kitchen. Hank ushered Connor into the diner proper, over to the rows of red booths with black and white marbled tables. With windows on two sides, natural light filled the space. Only a handful of other tables were occupied, people chattering amongst themselves. It wasn’t terribly spacious, but in the way that it felt cozy rather than claustrophobic.

Hank settled in a corner booth, his back to the wall. “She seems nice,” Connor commented, sitting across from him.

“Bel? She’s more than nice. She’s probably the closest thing to an angel I’ve got.” His head turned to look out the window, letting Connor notice a momentary bout of erratic flickering in his LED. “It doesn’t matter who you are or where you’re from, but she still makes this place seem like a mother’s kitchen. Just home recipes abound. And to top it all off? She don’t take shit from no one.

“One time—” he laughed, “—One time, ages ago, Jeffrey and I came by for lunch just pissed off. An easy drug bust flipped right around and left us with nothing, sending us right back to the drawing board. One officer was so furious she quit that morning. So we came in here, fuming, cussing up a storm, just miserable bastards looking to drown our frustrations in some good ol’ comfort food; it was too early for booze, but hell, did we come close. Bel came over with absolutely not the right thing, like soup and salad or something. I’ll admit, I was a bit of a hotheaded prick back then—”

“‘Back then’?”

“Watch it, boy,” Hank warned with a grin. “Anyway, I snapped at her, saying I wasn’t in the mood to deal with this, we didn’t want this, how hard was it to grill a fucking burger, I didn’t even have my coffee yet, and so on, and she shut me up by throwing a glass of water in my face. It was nearly empty already and didn’t have ice, but it was enough to do the trick. Then she said, ‘If starting over is so easy, why don’t you kids stop bitching and suck it up?’ Then she walked away.” Hank rested his chin in his hand, the smile still on his face. “It was the literal smack to the head that I needed. She gave us the soup n’ salads on the house as an attempt to get us to eat healthier. The coffee was free, too, but it was mostly hot sauce to get back at me for yelling at her.

Connor’s own smile had only grown. He wasn’t entirely sure why; it seemed like an involuntary response. “If that’s not the definition of a guardian angel, then I don’t know what is.”

“What can I say? You really do need a friend around who’s not afraid to knock some sense into you.”

Connor leaned back, sinking into the red cushions. This was comfortable. Natural light diffusing through the windows; fun conversation with the white noise of other discussions over quiet music he couldn’t place; the ever-present aroma of a kitchen hard at work; a pleasant warmth from the sunlight (without the radiation). He would like to come here again.

With such fond memories, though, why hadn’t they come here before in the six months Connor had known him? He decided to ask.

Hank continued looking out the window. His expression shifted into something Connor couldn’t interpret, but the brief red light gave him some clues. “It just seemed a bit boring to bring an android to a restaurant, y’know? You don’t really eat and all….”

“You boys gossiping over here?” joked Bel, sliding two mugs of coffee onto the table. Connor jumped; he hadn’t heard her approach. Or maybe his ears did, but his attention was focused elsewhere. Bel laughed. “Late nights at the bar making you jumpy?”

“Ah… not so much anymore,” Connor improvised. “Some late nights on the job, if anything.”

“Oh, I’d bet. Between homicide and android rights cases, you two are probably set on work for the next couple years.” She fished around in the pocket of her apron.

“Where did you hear about our casework?” asked Hank.

Bel found her target and deposited a couple small cups of thirium into the bowl of half-and-half creamers. “All over the news, hon! You’re really paving the way for androids in the work force. Setting the bar pretty high, too, while you’re at it.” She smiled before whisking off to other tables.

“As nice as ever, that Bel,” Hank commented. He inspected one of the thirium cups and asked, “How is this compared to plain old creamers?”

Connor’s hands hovered around his mug. He lacked his infrared temperature sensor, his unfamiliar tactile senses only told him ‘hot,’ and he couldn’t even remember what a fourth-order differential to estimate heat loss through radiation looked like. He’ll just give it a minute or two to cool. “I’m sure thirium doesn’t taste pleasant, but because the android program recognizes it as essential to mechanical function, it won’t register the taste. It’s just used like a nutritional benefit.”

Hank’s nose scrunched for a moment as he regarded tainting his sacred drink. Then he shrugged, poured one in with a stir and downed a gulp. He stared past Connor, eyes narrowed as he critiqued the taste. There was a smattering of yellow in his LED. “Mmmmm,” he soon hummed. “0.12 calories.”

A snort of laughter caught in Connor’s nose, which turned into a short bout of coughs. The tickle it left in his nasal cavity was completely alien. “Shit,” he choked out. Hank was much better at containing his reaction to just a smirk. “I don’t like how involuntary that was.”

“Hah. Welcome to the club.”

“And hot off the presses!” Bel swept over to them once again, setting a platter in the middle of the tabletop. “Did the onions myself! It was such a treat to break out the cheddar patties again, too; they just go to waste when you’re not around.”

Connor sat mesmerized. He and Hank had gone to many—if not most—burger joints in and around Detroit, but the hamburger in front of him was the tallest, most layered sandwich he had ever seen. Two burgers, flecks of cheddar dripping from them, overflowing with caramelized onions, roasted peppers, mushrooms, slices of some other cheese, lettuce, pickles—is that macaroni? A sharp kick to the shin snapped him from his trance long enough to thank Bel and send her off. “Lieutenant!” he hissed. He leaned forward to keep his voice down, regretting the full whiff of that savory, melty scent he got. “Do you know how many calories are in this?!”

“With this head of yours, I do now, yeah. And no way am I telling you, impulsive programming be damned!” Hank set a devious grin in his borrowed expression; this mischievous image of his doppelgänger made Connor uncomfortable. “Give it a try. I can guarantee it’s delicious.”

He knew he shouldn’t. It was unhealthy, grease-laden, and caloric. As if the burger wasn’t enough, the bed of beer batter waffle fries that coated the plate with accompanying cups of barbecue sauce could’ve been a meal on its own. It also smelled incredible.

It was technically a command from Hank, he realized, but without a HUD of objectives, it was nothing more than words. Nothing binding about it.

But it smelled so good.

He picked up the burger, leaving in the steak knife skewer holding it together. Before he could second-guess himself, he took a bite. There was a crunch from the brioche, a different crunch of the onions, then too many to distinguish, each with its own flavor that he had no previous reference on which to base any categorization, but together, it was splendid.

His instinct was to isolate and analyze each individual component, but without his tech, it was just a bombardment of information. By the time the taste stopped overwhelming his senses, half of the burger was gone.

Hank was swirling the coffee around in his mug, expression dripping in ‘told ya so.’ “A goddamn culinary masterpiece, right?”

Connor took another quick bite (getting mostly onions and macaroni) before he replaced it on the plate. He wiped off his hands on a paper napkin to buy processing time. “Lieutenant,” he said. “Hank. I still disapprove. But I understand now.”

“Fuckin’-A right!” Hank took a bite out of a waffle fry. “Listen, I get that you guys don’t need to eat, but it wouldn’t kill ya every now and then. CyberLife at least could’ve built in better taste buds. All I’m getting is calorie count and salt content, not any of the finesse.”

Trying a fry for himself, he noted the tang that he deduced as saltiness. Though not the main dish, they were also quite good. He took another. “It’s not vital to androids’ function—”

“And it’s not ‘vital’ to come and eat out like this. It’s just fuckin’ delightful.”

That is true. Much of his existence these days isn’t spent out of necessity. He didn’t have to pet Sumo, but it made him happy to do so. Munching on a third fry, he realized that humans were the same, except with more of a sensory benefit, like the fluffiness of Sumo’s fur. Why weren’t they the ones with compulsive programming? It seemed like they would need it more, what with all these distractions that can physically affect their mental state. “Ohh…,” he realized, “no wonder addictions are such an issue.”

“Now— hold on, now, how’d you jump to that conclusion? Like, yeah, but—” Hank’s LED began blinking. He flinched from something before raising his eyebrows. “A call from Jeffrey. Now this’ll be interesting.” He hesitated before he looked around the room. “I, ah, should probably take this elsewhere, ‘case it’s on the down low.”

“Tap the temple to answer,” Connor advised as Hank slid out of the booth and went to the door.

Connor crunched another fry, one that was extra crunchy. He should probably pay Bel soon and get a box for the rest, should they have to leave in a hurry. If only he knew how much two coffees and a—shit.

He picked up the untouched coffee. It was barely warm now. Unhelpful one-track human brain. Can’t even set a reminder in the background. He took a sip. It didn’t warm him or anything, but it tingled his tongue in a sort of dry, sharp way. Coffee was bitter, right? He didn’t think it would be this bitter, but Hank did like his coffee black. Despite complaining he couldn’t taste much, Hank’s mug was completely drained.

He spotted Bel this time as she approached. “Could I get a box for the rest of this? It sounds like we might have to leave soon.”

“Always off to save the city, you two are. I’ll get this all wrapped up in a jiffy!”

“And how much do I owe you?” Connor asked before she left with his plate. He was pretty sure Hank’s wallet was in his left pocket.

Bel cocked a grin. “Hon, has it really been so long you don’t remember?”

He paused. “Got two coffees this time.”

“Oh, silly me, that’s true! How’s an even ten bucks sound, then?”

Connor couldn’t help a small frown. “That seems a bit low….”

“Nah, call it a ‘welcome back’ discount.” Her expression lost its teasing edge, becoming something warm. “It’s good to see you again, Hank.”

While he liked the woman, if the conversation was going to turn sentimental, he wasn’t sure how well he was going to keep up his act. “It’s good to see you, too, Bel,” he replied before bringing his cold mug to his lips, hoping to end it there.

“And I hope you kept your talent for parenting.”

Connor almost choked. “What?”

“You were always a good father.” Bel was looking over his shoulder, off down memory lane. “Cole was the brightest kid in the county. But while more tragedy has befallen you than I would wish on anybody, I still hope Connor’s lucky enough to be in the same kind of care.”

“No, sorry, Connor’s not my son, he’s a detective—my coworker—not to mention an android.”

“Which means he might need it most, eh, sugar?” She shifted her weight and her gaze, looking back at him. “Sure, he looks what, twenty-five? Thirty? But isn’t he a new model? He probably ain’t even three yet, and he’s been deviant for way less than that. A father figure to show him the societal ropes sounds perfect to me.”

He felt like a process or ten had stalled. Fortunately, Hank returned to the table, so Bel took his plate and left with no more than a wink.

“Jeffrey wants us at the office today,” Hank said. Connor blinked and took a breath, trying to not focus on Bel’s inanity. (RK800 androids were the most advanced—hot off the production line immediately—he didn’t need—)

“Specifically, he wants me,” continued Hank, “so technically, he wants you. Said it shouldn’t take long.”

Connor cleared his throat. “So why didn’t he call me directly?”

“He did. A few times.”

Startled, Connor quickly dug out Hank’s phone. The screen lit to two missed calls, one new voicemail, and some new emails. “Oh….”

“Not so easy when it doesn’t directly invade your brain, huh? Now can you forgive me for not texting immediately?”

“I thought we were supposed to be unraveling the secrets of existence, Lieutenant, not dissecting your communication and dietary habits.”

Hank laughed. In Connor’s opinion, it didn’t sound right with his voice, but it made him smile nonetheless. “So, are we both going or just me?” he asked.

“I dunno, what else am I gonna do?”

Connor hummed. “It’s Saturday, right? Markus might be home.”

“Markus? As in rA9 Markus?”

“If CyberLife keeps this up, he’s bound to hear about it sooner or later, so why not tell him now? He usually checks in on his human on the weekends.”

Hank shrugged. “Might as well, I guess. Gives me something different to do. Where’s he live?”

“Around. Don’t ask me, you’re the one with the GPS today.”

Bel returned once more and set a cardboard box on the table. “Well, boys, it was my pleasure!” she boomed. “Y’all better come back soon, alright?”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Hank said with a smile as he stood. “Wonderful coffee.”

“Aw, c’mere!” She pulled him into a hug, something that didn’t fluster Hank at all. When the embrace broke, she held him by both shoulders and said, “Oh, Hank, he hugs like you already!”

The real Hank’s eyebrow twitched. “What���does that mean?”

“Nothing, nothing!”

Connor avoided their eyes until he found a ten and some ones in his wallet and handed them to Bel. He picked up the box and used his free arm to give her a quick hug. It was warm. Nice. “Thanks, Bel.”

“Anytime!”

[next >]

[officialwittek]

pt. 1

*gif is not mine*  

word  count: 2,097 

please forgive me if this is rough. i been outta the writing game for a minute. enjoy! 

7:30 am.

The obnoxious ring of my alarm disturbs my peaceful sleep. I groan and move the blankets off my legs, stretching my arms to the ceiling. After my morning stretch I walk to my bathroom and turn the water to the hottest it can go before stripping my pajamas off. I quickly step in the shower, welcoming the warmth on my skin. I let out a sigh as I felt all the tension from my restless night glide down the drain. After a good 15 minutes I finally muster the strength to step out and wrap my towel around myself. I finally dry off and go to my closet to pick out an outfit for the day.

My eyes scan the closet before finally landing on a black pinstripe blazer dress with a zipper slit on the thigh, a thick belt around my waist with a chain in the front, and some knee high boots with black beret. After getting dressed I started on my hair and makeup. I went for a natural but full beat with my favorite pair of falsies and put my hair in a simple French braid down my back. I walked out to meet my roommate Carly.

“Good morning sleeping beauty” I says, she acknowledges me with the wave of her hand and walks back to her room as I smile and start making my matcha latte

I boil some water and grab the oat milk from the fridge. After making my latte I settle on some Oreo cereal for breakfast. I glance up and see my roommate exiting her room, looking ready for the day.

“Whatcha got planned for the day?” Carly asks, I shrug and look at her casually

“I might have a meeting to discuss signing with Arista, and making my own album” I comment casually, watching her eyes widen with excitement

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Is David hiding somewhere with his camera?” Carly replies, I shake my head and watch her eyes fill with excited tears

“Baby!!! We have to tell everyone” she exclaims, I shake my head and cross my arms in an X shape

“We will tell them when I finish the meeting, I don’t wanna jinx myself” I whine, she nods understandingly

“Alright I should get going, let me know where you guys are so we can meet up after. You can ONLY tell Erin. I’ll see you later” I say, grabbing my work bag and keys from the counter

After a nerve wracking drive to the office I finally arrived. I take a deep breath and walk into the building where an assistant meets me. We take the elevator to a conference room.

We finally finished the hour long meeting. I brought a friend, who happened to be a lawyer to look over my contract before signing it. I shook their hands and said we would let them know in a few hours. After our meeting my friend and I headed out to get some boba and take a look at the contract. I quietly drank my black milk tea and sent a few texts to my friends.

“Looks pretty good, initial here and here... ok and just put your signature here” She said, I nodded signing and initialing away

They called the label and let them know we had signed the contract. My friend went and dropped off the contract while I headed to David’s. When I opened the door I noticed almost everyone was here, except for Jeff and Scott. I took my shoes off and quietly headed into the house.

“Soo.. what’s the verdict?” Carly asked, everyone looked to me in confusion

“Signed, and I’ll be starting my music journey with Arista today” I yell, my friends jump up in celebration and crowd around me

“We celebrating tonight bitches” Zane exclaims, and at this point who cares that it’s a Monday morning and they’ll most likely forget tonight

“Make sure you guys invite Jeff, and we’ll get Sage so drunk she can tell HIM how horny he makes her” Carly says, prompting David to take out his camera again and makes Carly repeat it

“God I tell Carly ONE time that I would get Jeff crush my head between his biceps and suddenly I’m being crucified for being horny” I retort, earning loud laughs from everyone else

“Tell David what you told me last night, after seeing Jeff’s insta post” Carly commands with a wide smile, I sigh and look right at David so I’m not looking straight into the camera lens

“Allegedly when I was a little litty last night, I was stalking his instagram and I saw the picture of him spraying water on himself in your merch… and allegedly I said that I would let him knock my cervix into my lungs and I would apologize for simply being too weak to handle it” I whispered, but everyone heard me anyways and as if on cue the devil himself walked in through the front door

“Jeff come listen to this” Jason says, showing the footage he recorded of me saying what I just said, I stood there in shock, Jeff quickly turned to me and smirked

“Come here baby” Jeff says, throwing me over his shoulder and carrying me to a bedroom while our friends laughed

“Finally, I’m getting the dick I deserve” I yell, Jeff puts me down gently after we round the corner

“Also Todd told me we’re celebrating for you, what happened?” He asks, I tell him the news and he lifts me up again

Jeff and I had been close from the minute we met, it really felt like I met my platonic soulmate to be completely honest. We’re always jokingly flirting with each other for the vlogs and if I’m not with the girls I’m usually with Jeff. Although, lately he’s been too busy to hang out or workout together, on the contrary he’s always free for David and the rest of our friends but when I want to hang out one on one there’s always something. It felt nice, just being the two of us. But alas, as soon as he finished the hug he waltzed right back to our other friends.

“Yea I’ve been doing good, how about you?” I mumble to myself, walking back to our friends as we talk about what to do until the rest of our friends are free to go out for the night

Natalie, Zane, David, and I decided to go somewhere and film some stuff and have a little photoshoot while we were at it. We took some videos of us fucking around in the parking lot of some mall. Zane decided to provide some commentary for the vlog as Nat and I took pictures.

“Look at these whores, won’t take no fucking pictures with me. I’m SAgE anD i’M a FaMoUS MuSICiAn, FuCK YALl” Zane yells, I hand my phone to Nat and walk over to David’s Tesla, grabbing the small paintball gun in the trunk

“Fuck with me again little bitch” I said, walking up to him and shooting him two times in the leg with the paintball gun, he cussed me out on the floor while the three of us laughed our asses off

“Alright let’s get going so we can collect everyone before we go out... or we could have it at  David’s house so I don’t have to worry about flashing my ass to random people?” I ask, making puppy eyes at  David as he reluctantly give in

“Fine, but you’re helping clean up after” He says, I nod eagerly as the four of us pile into the Tesla

“I’ll let Suzy and Jonah know, everyone else will probably be at the house anyways” Natalie says, quickly typing on her phone  

We arrive at David’s house as the sun is setting and we start getting ready for everything. Toddy and Jeff go on an alcohol run, while the rest of us started setting everything up. Natalie and Zane go to get more solo cups and some extra things. I’m helping David put away some valuable things while everyone makes the house presentable and work on making it Zane and Heath proof, which could be impossible.

“Can I be in control of the music king?” I ask, David rolls his eyes at the horrible nickname and nods I connect to the speaker while pouring shots for everyone with the alcohol we have at the house

After I was done pouring the shots the ones who went to run errands came back and we all huddled in the kitchen. I put the down the bottle and we all hold our glasses up.

“May we all get absolutely plastered, and some of incredibly high. Maybe both? And may Zane stay away from the hospital for one fucking night, amen” I yell, we all cheers and take shots

After smoking with some of our friends I go back in the house and find it absolutely packed with people. David is multitasking with taking disposables and filming an incredibly drunk Zane and Ilya. And above all the talking and yelling I hear the familiar beat.

‘Do it, baby. Stick it, baby. Move it, baby. Lick it, baby...’

I scream and run to the make shift dance floor, my girls behind me as I start grinding on Corinna as she smacks my ass. I’m screaming the words, someone hands me a drink and I slowly start to feel myself get loose. Everyone making a circle around Corinna, and myself. We switch and I fall on the couch while Corinna gives me a lap dance.

“PUSSY SO GOOD HE GOT MY NAME ON IT” We scream, grabbing each other as  Zane somehow finds himself on my lap too

After the song I make my way to the bar with Zane and Heath, my favorite drinking buddies. After getting a lot more alcohol in me than my entire being can tolerate we go back and start dancing. I was swaying to the music, occasionally dancing with our friends when I feel someone grab me.

“What do you think you’re doing? Shaking your ass for everyone to see” the faint linger of that Staten Island accent makes me smile, but it quickly changes to a frown when my brain registers the words he said

“What do you think Jeffreyyy? I’m-” “Zane what the fuck” I turn and see our friends huddled around the bathroom

“Watch out everyone” Natalie says, backing up and taking a running start towards the door and successfully kicks it down

“Zane why didn’t you say anything? We thought you were dead man” Jeff laughs, I walk into the bathroom and laugh at the sight

After a few more hours the strangers have left the house and our friend group is still going strong. I quietly nurse my water that Jeff forced me to have. David taking some disposables of the rare quiet moment.

“Zane.. I bet you won’t try and fight Jeff right now” I slur, my world still spinning from the poison in my body  

“For what?” Zane replies, I smirk and look at Jeff

“Dude I’ll straight up kiss whoever wins” I say, David immediately bringing his vlog camera out and quickly explaining the situation

“Wait I wanna fucking get in on this” Ilya says, the three of them getting up... well Zane and Ilya could barely stand let alone fight Jeff, the most sober one here

The three of them start pushing each other, I’m a little too drunk to really understand what was going on. Before I know it Jeff had them both on the ground and was declared the winner

“Sageee... you gotta kiss Jeff” David teases, shoving the camera in my face as I chuckle

“Oh y’all know I wanna do more than kiss. Come here dumb bitch” I say, turning around on the couch as Jeff stabilizes me and plants a kiss right on my lips as our friends scream and jump around. I pull away and David turns his camera off for the moment.

“Can I pleasee have more shots.. Zane, Ilya get your dumbasses up we’re getting more drunk so David has content” I yell, the two of them immediately getting off the floor and walking with me to the kitchen

“David, come here I have a secret to tell you” I yell, stumbling over to meet him halfway

“Closer, closer..... I’m so fucked up”

[eclecticanalyst]

Studying “A Study in Emerald”: Third Post

Part 4: The Performance

We begin Part 4 with some more general canon references—the detective being a master of disguise, for one, and doing investigations undercover without his companion, who watches as various characters process through their sitting room. The narrator worries about the detective’s health, just as Watson does on many occasions.

And then they go to the theater, and everything (for us) changes.

I remember, when I read “A Study in Emerald” for the first time, being struck by the use of the word “languid” to describe the leading man in the theater company. “Languid” is used to describe Sherlock Holmes in multiple canon stories, including “A Scandal in Bohemia,” “The Red-Headed League,” “The Adventure of the Norwood Builder,” and “The Problem of Thor Bridge,” among others. It’s a word, not an object, but I associate it with Holmes just as much as the Persian slipper or the knife in the mantelpiece. So seeing this word attached to some random new character, who is described as both languid and tall, immediately brought to mind canon Holmes’s appearance and gave me pause—although I can’t say everything became clear to me in that moment. It would seem that everyone is still in their same bodies as in canon and retains their physical characteristics, despite the world they live in being a warped version of the original.

The final play in the show tells us a bit more about the backstory for this world, while also solidifying that uneasy feeling for the reader that started to percolate in the previous chapter. It’s one thing for monstrous creatures to exist in a story, posing a threat that our protagonist recognizes, as was the case when our narrator described the horrors of Afghanistan way back at the beginning of the story. But here, with the entire audience cheering for beings who have names like “the Czar Unanswerable” and regarding a blood-red moon as “comforting,” it’s as if the populace has been brainwashed. The order of things in this world is disturbingly off-kilter.

Now that we’re fully on edge, Gaiman tips his hand as the detective and the narrator go backstage and meet Sherry Vernet. A responsible Sherlock Holmes reader will recognize Vernet as the name of the famous artist whose sister was Holmes’s grandmother. It is therefore a perfect alias for Holmes—probably anyone writing a Holmes adaptation/pastiche would be likely to use the name if Holmes had need of an alias—and it should set off the loudest alarm bells yet for the reader. (I myself was saying “Wait a minute!” at this point.) A few paragraphs down, the detective gives the narrator the alias of “Mister Sebastian”—the first name, of course, of Colonel Moran, Professor Moriarty’s closest associate.

For the more astute of us, the game might be up at this point and the true identities of our protagonists clear. At the very least, however, readers know that everything is not as straightforward as it originally seemed. With these game-changing details now in play, the story has a moment that I think of as resetting all of the pieces. It does this by returning to the Study in Scarlet scene that “Emerald” began with, the meeting of prospective roommates. In the canon story, Holmes mentions his smoking habits to check if Watson would be amenable:

“You don’t mind the smell of strong tobacco, I hope?”

“I always smoke ‘ship’s’ myself,” I answered.

In “Emerald,” the wording is different, but the exchange is similar enough to echo the original:

“I smoke a strong black shag,” said the actor, “but if you have no objection—”

“None!” said my friend, heartily. “Why, I smoke a strong shag myself...”

Holmes’s words, for a brief moment, transfer to their proper speaker—the real Holmes. We were lulled into assuming we knew who the protagonists of this story were in the laboratory scene and it is this same scene that we hearken back to now as the true identities come into focus.

Incidentally, this exchange also doubles as a reference to another story in the canon—the detective gets a suspect to share their tobacco as part of a stratagem to reveal their guilt in “The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez.”

When Holmes appears, Watson should not be far behind, so we get the “Emerald” detective’s identification of “The Limping Doctor” as the second man responsible for the death of the prince. The identity indications in this story are getting more and more blatant—Watson is the only one in Holmes canon that fits the bill for this particular description, with his leg wound established in The Sign of the Four.

Regarding the Limping Doctor, the “Emerald” detective remarks:

“I hate to say this, but it is my experience that when a Doctor goes to the bad, he is a fouler and darker creature than the worst cut-throat.”

This is a reference to an original line of Holmes’s, found in “The Adventure of the Speckled Band”: “When a doctor does go wrong he is the first of criminals.” That particular story is one of my favorites due to the way ACD slowly builds up the dread as Holmes and Watson get closer to solving the case. The doctor/villain in “The Speckled Band” is one of the more contemptible in the canon, right up there with Charles Augustus Milverton and those men from “The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter,” so it’s ironic to see Holmes’s assessment of the man now applied to our dear Dr. Watson.

On rereading the ending of Part 4 for this analysis, it struck me that this last scene is a very subtle homage to “A Scandal in Bohemia.” If you’ll permit a bit of a tangent as I explain: in the story, Holmes and Watson have just come back from Holmes’s successful stratagem to get Irene Adler to reveal where her secret photograph is hidden. Holmes plans to retrieve said photograph in the morning and believes everything is well in hand.

We had reached Baker-street, and had stopped at the door. He was searching his pockets for the key, when someone passing said:--

“Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.”

There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by.

“I’ve heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.”

The next day, of course, Holmes discovers that Adler was onto him and has escaped with the photograph, and that she had followed him home and was the one who wished him good night the evening before.

At the end of Part 4 of “Emerald,” the same beats are there. The detective and his narrator friend are in the midst of unlocking the door to their Baker Street rooms, there’s something just a bit odd (the cabbie not picking up a waiting passenger), and the detective is mildly puzzled but not overly concerned. It’s not an overt reference, but the circumstances are just similar enough for the connection to be made.

Those of us who know how “A Scandal in Bohemia” turns out will understand that in having a nod to this particular scene, Gaiman is indicating that the tables are about to be turned on the detective, and the case will not be quite as successful as he thinks.

[stemcellee]

Ok so I know a lot of colleges have already started (unless you are on the quarter system lmao) but here’s another “let’s talk about” blab post. Also kind of in honor of me moving into the dorms again in exactly two weeks :C

Read the one about staying healthy here!

Or, just read this one. Let’s talk about your life in the dorms (or maybe you sleep in the campus library but that’s on campus housing too, isn’t it?) 

Things to Ask Your Roommates Did you go random? Did your school give you your roommate(s)’s contacts before moving in? If so, then try to contact them before moving in. It’s really exciting meeting the person(s) that you will be living with for the school year! And most of the time, they’re super excited about meeting you as well. If you are meeting them for the first time the day you move in, then these questions will still probably be great ice breakers for that first night. 

Where are you from?

What’s your major? (typical question for literally everyone)

What are your sleeping habits? (as in, lights on/off, noises, temperature of the room, TIME, if they snore or something)

How do you feel about guests? (only have visitors are certain times, visitors welcome anytime, no preference, no overnight guests or etc etc)

How do you feel about alcohol/smoking? (most universities have strict rules but you know. it’s good to share preferences and stuff)

What are your study habits? (sounds, times dedicated to studying)

What’s your class schedule look like? (my roomies and i always printed up our schedules and hung them in the dorms. It’s actually super useful)

What are you bringing to the dorm that we can share? (aka stuff like microwaves, fridges, water kettles, irons, yknow the basics)

What side of the room/What bunk bed do you want?

Should I wake you up for your class if your alarm doesn’t go off?

Things to Bring to the Dorms (not at all a comprehensive list lmao needs change and are different)

Obvious stuff: Clothes, undies, bedding

Your electronics (laptop, chargers, tablet, phone, etc)

Bath necessities (toothbrush and paste, towel, toilet paper and what not)

Shower shoes

FLOSS, NAIL CLIPPERS

Tape and push pins

FIRST AID KIT

Your immunization records, your identification

Money

Snacks that have a long shelf life in case of emergency or just hunger (like dried or canned food)

A flashlight

WATER and refillable waterbottle

Sunscreen

Extension cords

Napkins/tissues/ziplock bags

Mirrors as needed

an Extra Set of sheets 

General pain medication (like Advil), cold medicine, and your allergy/other personal medicines

Portable charger for your phone

Scissors!!

A refrigerator, microwave, hot water kettle, coffee maker, clothes iron, or something you realize will make your life easier

Laundry detergent

A seat cushion for your desk chair

Things that remind you of home/good times

Plates, bowls, utensils

Dealing With Problems Living on campus can suck sometimes for various reasons. However, see them as learning experiences that will prepare you for the real (Real) world when you leave college.

Getting sick: see this post

Roommate problems: sometimes, you and your roommate might not get along. It’s honestly nothing to be ashamed of because y’all are different people. But if they are doing something you really don’t like (like bringing people over when you are sleeping/studying, being loud, using your stuff, whatever), you have to be firm and tell them because sometimes, they won’t know what they’re doing wrong. Approaching them nicely and being clear is important. As roommates, you will have to accept that you all live in the same area and the space does not belong to just one of you. Make boundaries clear in the beginning, and be open to anything your roommate says to you. Peaceful roommate politics is the way to go.

Homesickness: living away from home can get to you. You might miss things that you never even thought you would miss. Dealing with homesickness is something the majority of college students living away from their home will experience, so it’s important to remember that you have others who feel the same way and you are not to struggle with the feeling alone. Calling home, writing emails/letters to home, or even planning what you want to do the next time you visit home are ways that help cope with homesickness.

Being safe: when you live away from parents or you live with a bunch of other people that you probably didn’t know before coming to campus, things can get overwhelming. Always be aware of your surroundings when you go out, or sometimes even in your residence hall. Keep your belongings safe by locking your door before leaving, or having a safe in your dorm. Wear your shower flip flops because the communal bathrooms can be gross. Always remember consent and remind others of consent. Know your limits with alcohol. This might be the first time that you live independent from guardians so you will be making every decision for yourself. Make sure your decisions keep you in a safe position!!

Report any issues with your dorm (malfunctions, theft, plumbing, electricity) to the front desk or to the housing authority immediately (this place is your home and hopefully you will love it like your home!)

Be courteous of others, like your neighbors/floormates. Respect each other and have fun!

Resources Here are just rando things that I learned to do while living on campus lol

Take a few extra napkins from dining halls and store them in your room. Napkins are useful and this can save you money (i mean in the end you are paying for dining hall services so might as well use the napkins)

Same thing with disposable utensils

Get to know your floormates because they might have the same classes as you and you can study with them!

Always have your roommate(s)’s number saved in your phone

Learn the best (or most private) times to use the bathrooms (lol)

Take advantage of the free stuff (we always got free stuff from our resident assistants/the school because of special events. I got free mason jars, free SUCCULENTS ((that died bc I can’t take care of them)), free FOOD, free shirts etc)

Have a REallly long phone charging cable and a little hanging bucket/hanging bag if you have a top bunk. It makes life easier.

If you’re the kind to plop into bed and be unproductive, consider top bunk. It sucks having to climb in and out so you’ll probably stay out of it (luls)

I’ve exhausted all that I can really think of for now, so I hope that helps! Living in the dorms is supppperr exciting and fun if you make the most out of it!

[jfpark]

Partly without sight, we descend, into a space for monsters and cyborgs

The other night, getting ready for sleep, lights off—a friend of J's, C, leans down to remove a sock and slams their left eye into the corner of the wood-frame lofting the bed in J's room. C and J are so tired, neither of them—especially J—process how serious this might be. C's ball made direct and forceful contact with the wood.

The next day J texts folks at work that J is sick-by-association and won’t be coming in.

At the ophthalmologist, C and J find out how serious and irregular the damage is. Before C consents to the treatment, the doctor is already administering something called a bandage contact lens, then handing over a scrip for antibiotic eyedrops to prevent infection while the contact is in, protecting the healing process of the abraded and irregular eyeball.

Later C and J are at a cafe across the street from the ophthalmologist’s office waiting, as instructed, to see how C's eye feels after at least 30 minutes of wearing the contact. There, over coffee and salad, J speculates to C that the ophthalmologist might have been particularly hesitant to seek C's consent because they may have been uncomfortable with how C narrated the damage occurring. J speculates that the ophthalmologist may have wanted to get as quickly as possible out of the examination room.

C's narration, as this narration perhaps does too, left open the implication that, sharing a bed, C and J were fucking—insofar as it is both a common euphemism that to sleep together is to fuck and a common assumption that those whom sleep together also fuck. Assuming the doctor fears queers, then it could be that the narration, combined with C's and J's intimate demeanor, manner of dress, and J's presence in the examination room, incited a fear in the ophthalmologist that impelled them to offer treatment without seeking proper consent—so as to escape ASAP. C responded to this speculation by first acknowledging that, given the pain, they had not paid as much attention to the ophthalmologist’s demeanor as to their words and actions, though had indeed noted this more or less unconsensual treatment. C further responded that, while J’s speculation could have something to it, it could also simply be that the ophthalmologist’s bed-side manner left plenty to be desired.

The next day C and J are in a city adjacent to, but across a bay from, the one that C was sleeping with J in. The city’s and the sun’s lights are causing C much pain, and C keeps cycling through a variety of methods of reducing this. C wears sunglasses; C takes off sunglasses and cups their left eye but not too closely; C puts back on sunglasses and cups their left eye even less closely; C takes off sunglasses and puts on an eyepatch; C takes off the eyepatch and wraps it around the left lens of the sunglasses and puts the glasses back on; C closes both eyes and asks J to guide them on the city streets.

In the afternoon, C and J are riding a streetcar to the ocean-facing beach side of the city to attend a friend of C’s, and acquaintance of J’s, open studio. On the way, to pass the time, while C closes and covers both eyes—since by now the right eye receiving light produces after a short delay pain in the left—J reads to C from a book. J had put this and another book, to be discussed shortly, in J’s backpack in anticipation of an upcoming literary gathering, a Story Hour, that a comrade of J’s facilitates. The book, a feminist epic, was called The Descent of Alette and was written by Alice Notley. The first piece in the epic reads:

“One day, I awoke” “& found myself on” “a subway, endlessly”

“I didn’t know” “how I’d arrived there or” “who I was” “exactly”

“But I knew the train” “knew riding it” “knew the look of”

“those about me” “I gradually became aware—“ “though it seemed

as that happened” “that I’d always” “known it too--” “that there was”

“a tyrant” “a man in charge of” “the fact” “that we were”

“below the ground” “endlessly riding” “our trains, never surfacing”

“A man who” “would make you pay” “so much” “to leave the subway”

“that you don’t” “ever ask” “how much it is” “It is, in effect,”

“all of you, & more” “Most of which you already” “pay to

live below” “But he would literally” “take your soul” “Which is

what you are” “below the ground” “Your soul” “your soul rides”

“this subway” “I saw” “on the subway a” “world of souls”

After that first, J continued reading twenty-four more pieces. Later, at an exceedingly dimly lit pub, after C and J had spent no more than 45 minutes at their friend and acquaintances open studio—which they had left because there was an uncomfortably large number of former friends and acquaintances—C said to J that listening to J read from Notley’s feminist epic while having had eyes closed and body at the whim of the streetcar’s motion had given C an experience of the book’s words that C would prefer to no other experience with those words. C had, with Alette, descended, or C more or less said.

A couple day’s later C has left and J’s mother, S, is visiting. J and S have not yet met up, as they would soon, at S’s hotel. A series of events unfold which J reported on a popular social media platform. The reports are transcribed below:

after a few days of "good" air quality in Oakland (remember, if you forgot, could forget, the wildfires), it's back to "moderate."

i unintentionally celebrate this fact by leaving the burner on too long while I clean—by burning off some oil from—the cast iron.

reading @Thisbhanu's Incubation to find a selection for the anniversary sesh of the writing group I facilitate, which falls on mum's bday,

i forget to watch the pan. the apartment fills with smoke, sets off the alarm, & wakes my sleeping roommate. i hurry to respond to these by:

taking pan off burner, turning burner off, opening windows, waving a tshirt at smoke alarm, taking alarm out off ceiling & moving it away.

the apartment remains filled with smoke but now I am distracted. I've thought, oh what a thread I could tweet. Woken roommate comes in.

Asks what happened; I stutter response. Roommate opens our apartment door & puts on the ceiling fan, blows out scented candle I'd lit.

"we don't need more things burning in here," she said. & later he tells me, "keep the windows open, I still can't breath in my room."

I want to offer a smoke mask, 1 of several a friend who'd been visiting town left when they left; I want not to disturb more. I say nothing.

I leave mask on table next to a card she made for mum's bday. Drawing traced from a photo he woke me to ask for last night, & a v kind note.

[here, a fair number of events worth narration are left out, as, by time of revision prior to posting, J has run out of time to write. this bracket then to note things such as Marshall, tech troubleshooting, volunteers meeting, birthday, burger king photos] 

The next day J & S spend much time in S’s hotel room. Shortly after J’s arrival, while S naps, J writes the following email to a writing group that J facilitates weekly.

To those writers of world stuff whom it may concern,

I can only somewhat believe this group’s met for a year now. Worlds' times’ been fastslow—distorted by so much loss & so much solidarity amid ongoing un/natural disasters. In the group we’ve had plenty of changes in who attends, several hiatuses, and a change in format (for those newer, we’ve moved from a more show & tell format, as described here, to a more classic workshop format, with readings to get us started writiting). 

In honor of our anniversary and of Sheila Park’s, my mother’s, birthday (she attended our first meeting and will attend again tonight), we’ll be reading from the first set of sections in Incubation: A Space for Monsters by Bhanu Kapil. The reading is also inspired by the theme of this week’s Story Hour, an excellent event facilitated by a comrade-writer Eleanor Liu, the theme of which is MONSTERS/DESCENT TO THE UNDERWORLD. (By the way, if you’re free and intersted Thursday night, check out the webpage for Story Hour, and consider following the directions to rsvp). 

Kapil, like my mother, grew up in Britain, moving to USAmerica in adulthood, eventually had and raised here her only child. Incubation, though I did not know it when I was reading it as an undergrad (first year?), was the first book of contemporary unconventional—or “experimental,” if you prefer, as I don’t—prose I read. It was released in 2006 on Renee Gladman’s now retired press Leon Works (a press that’s published several books that mean a lot to me, including Fred Moten’s Hughson’s Tavern). In the book's link, you can read a bit of back-matter. 

From the first pair of sections, linked here, we’ll focus on “Hallucinating Childhood (3),” which is 7pgs in length. The pages preceding are also 7; feel free to read those in advance if you’ve time. Sorry for the markings; back then I still underlined, and in pen. I should mention, if you like the readings, the book is currently out of print and the only available copies are hundreds of dollars. If you enjoy and would want to read more from the book, though I believe I read recently it will be brought back in print by another press (I haven’t been able to re-find that info), let me know and perhaps we can find you a copy ;-) (or once I’m thru re-reading, I can loan).  

Prompt-wise, we’ll begin with these two two-part alternatives. Alternate 1, part 1—given the definition of a monster Kapil quotes on page 7 (“The monster is that being who refuses to adapt to her circumstances”), write something that either makes space (hostile) for or is filled by monsters. Alternate 1, part 2—what you write could respond to the following question quoted from pg 10: “As a child, in the space before writing, did you suffer when you went to other people’s houses?”

Alternate 2, part 1—given the definition of a cyborg Kapil quotes on page 12 (“Cyborgs are built for assimilation into households and factories”), write something that either makes space (hostile) for or is filled by cyborgs. Alternate 2, part 2—what you write could respond to the following question quoted from page 12, “Am I boring you? Do you want some coffee?”

Looking forward to incubating with you tonight,

Julian

Having sent this email J then returns to the popular social media platform and finds a nearly year old post by Bhanu Kapil, verifying J’s suspicion that Incubation was to be reissued, not by Leon Works, but by the press that published Kapil’s first book, The Vertical Interrogation of Strangers, namely Kelsey St. Press, named for a street that C and J had wandered several days before, seeking both to get where they were going and to avoid light. J reposted this post with the following comment:

had been looking for this for days. initial searches were blocked by a stubborn sense the title was "incarnation" not "incubation." 🤔 to self

To this Kapil replied,

let me know if you would like a preemptive PDF before it comes out properly

This reply, J excitedly informed the writing group that night, new which the group responded too equally if not even more excitedly. The excitement, no doubt, was boosted by the wonderful key lime pie one writer, P, had baked and brought, and the beers and cider another writer, D, had brought.

The prompts proved difficult, and though all were in apparently good spirits, despite a variety of difficult recent personal experiences—among those being that P had not gotten a job they wanted and D had gotten a promotion at a job they didn’t want to still work at—many were unusually hesitant to share. Particularly hesitant was S, whom had reacted with panic to the prompt of writing a space for monsters, preferring, instead, to write one for cyborgs. J, to the prompts, wrote the following scrap of prose:

A steel-cut monstorg smells what’s cooking at the station house, so starts to mosey. “Those oats smell great,” thinks the monstorg.

Trailing behind are three cartoon kittens, each one with a different shaped aluminum hat: one shaped like a satellite, one like an eiffel tower, one like a waffle iron.

Arriving at the station house, the kittens take off the aluminum hats and roll them into one large ball, kicking it around from one to the other.

“Get us something to the break the fast, will ya Tommy Gun?” says the kitten that had been wearing the waffle iron, to the monstorg.

Tommy Gun turns around and winks, then walks into the station house.

There it’s all cybers and the oats aren’t what anybody thought, closer to boats really and the whole foyer is floating to high heaven. There’s a kite string dangling down a stairwell, and all the cybers are so distracted that none notice Tommy Gun go pull the kite string. The kite tumbles down and spills a bunch of rice into Tommy Gun’s open mouth. As the rice continues to spill, Tommy Gun finds an oatmeal sandwich in the backpack next to one of the cybers. It’s no easy balancing act, catching all those grains while pulling a kite string around this foyer full of boats and distracted bodies of roughly 5 networked types, trying to snag sandwiches, but this isn’t Tommy Gun’s first station raid, not even the first this week.

Outside, the kittens are already radiation-drunk and folding the aluminum back into the hats the ball used to be.