#drew this with some new markers i got yesterday :D

[ollylotl]

Dakota? Cole!

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Claire...may I request a lil' writing? I'm thinking of Javi maybe post Columbia and he builds up a routine. He goes to the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work and of course picks up the same order. You're a barista at the coffee shop and eventually, you can pin down his arrival to the minute so one day, you make his drink for the exact moment when he gets there, with your number written on the cup cause screw it, he's damn hot. What would happen? <3

Oh Maia, this was FUN to write for you!!! I hope you enjoy it! :D

Exciting update!!! GIF and media genius @nicolethered made an amazing video for me to go with this fic!! Go give her big love!!

Second exciting update! I was challenged by @quica-quica-quica to play the POV game for this piece (where someone Asks you to rewrite a piece from a different character's POV). So now there is a companion piece to this from Javier's POV, called: "Coffee Shop Girl". Enjoy!

For Now

Word count: 3900+

Rating: explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; oral sex/F receiving; vaginal fingering; protected P/V sex; cigarette smoking

Ten days. It took ten days between the first arrival of the handsome stranger and you ending up in his bed. A new personal record for you, given how reserved you normally were. But it was nothing to be ashamed of, as long as you were careful. It was the 90s now after all, there was zero reason to have to keep your knees closed until marriage, as long as you used condoms and got tested regularly.

You liked the coffee shop well enough, situated on the southern end of downtown near the warehouses and a few clubs. It drew a full spectrum of Austinites: college kids closing out their club nights with breakfast tacos and pastries before going home to crash; early morning construction workers, employees from the big post office around the corner; and the usual boring lawyers and office staff who started streaming in around 7:30 every weekday morning. You could do the job well enough, even considering the odd hours: waking up early enough to open the doors at 5:30, serve the slow trickle of early morning customers with patience and ease until a co-worker joined at 7:00 for the morning rush. And the barista and food service parts of the job were physically but not mentally demanding. It was a job, and certainly less hassle than your bartending gig some weekends. At least here you only had to throw drunks out once a month.

And then one Tuesday in early June, at 7:47 a.m., he appeared. Tall, neatly groomed mustache, dark eyes, a sheaf of bangs swept to the side over his forehead. His navy blue blazer and tie said ‘accountant’ or maybe ‘state employee’ and his sideburns were just a little out of date. You pegged him at about 40, probably one of those men who visited the same barber their whole lives, not bothering to keep up with fashion trends as long as they looked neat and clean. When he reached to take his to-go cup of black coffee from you, you noticed that his ring finger was bare, and you liked that his fingernails were clean and trimmed. He offered you a nod in thanks, and you smiled at him a little more warmly than you had with your other customers so far. He held the door on his way out, pausing just a moment to let two women enter… and then he was gone, out into the bright sunlight and foot traffic and morning rush. You hoped you would see him again.

On Wednesday he came back again, a repeat of Tuesday except with a different tie, deep red today instead of navy. Black coffee to go, leather portfolio tucked under one arm, clean hands, eyes as dark as the coffee you handed him. This time rewarding you with a gruff and gravelly, “Thanks,” instead of just a nod. You relished the accidental brush of his fingers on yours as you handed the cup over, another flash of him imprinted on you, along with yesterday’s vision of him going golden as he stepped out into the morning sun. This time you watched him through the big glass window until he was out of sight, admiring his strong nose in profile, the curve of it perched over that mustache. Two extra seconds of handsomeness poured into your morning before you had to turn back to rinsing mugs and making change. You hoped that he’d come again on Thursday, making it three visits, a genuine pattern instead of a fluke.

On Thursday he reappeared, same time as the previous two days, waiting patiently in line behind two wake-and-bake potheads who were taking their sweet time staring up at the food menu. Today he was dark gray instead of navy, wearing a charcoal blazer and a sharp black tie. You waved him over with a smile, letting it melt all the way up to your eyes instead of flashing the tight, brief, closed-mouth thing you used on most customers.

“Black coffee, right?” You watched his face, taking in the dark eyes, the hair, the brief smile that made a surprise dimple appear in his cheek.

He nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He slid a rumpled bill across the counter. “Keep the change.”

You bit your lip as you turned away, preening at his thanks and seven whole words as if they were genuine praise. His voice was deep and rich, landing with a rumble in your own chest, like the remnants of thudding bass from a passing car. You poured the coffee and secured the lid, brain scrambling desperately for something clever to say. To make him come back, to talk to you more.

You turned and handed him the cup, and as he reached for it you again let your hand be in just the right spot to feel the brush of his fingers. Your eyes locked on one another, and for the briefest moment you forgot to let go of the cup. You wanted to swim in those brown eyes forever, get lost and let him drown you whole. He paused, and you thought you saw the briefest twitch of his mustache, a pinprick in his calm exterior before you drew your hand back. He inclined his head, a single nod, and then he turned to leave and your attention was swept back to the register and the next customers.

Friday he arrived “on time” and you met his eyes as soon as he opened the door. Today he was warm earth tones, a dark red shirt under a brown tweed blazer and no tie, a nod to casual Friday. You turned and prepared his coffee, tightening the lid and then holding it up to him across the room, smiling and tossing your chin up in a friendly greeting. He walked up and slid a few bills over the counter to you.

“Thanks.” He winked at you and something in your pelvis fluttered. “See you next week.”

You watched him go, stepping out again into a halo of golden sun, pulling a pair of aviator sunglasses from his pocket and putting them on before striding away. You suddenly felt lost, facing the many hours between now and Monday.

Your weekend passed in a blur of extra bartending shifts and catching up on sleep. You were forever napping at odd hours, trying to reconcile the slightly staggered rhythms of early morning coffee shop hours and late-night bartending. It wasn’t the hardest you’d ever worked or the worst schedule, but it wasn’t fun. At least, it hadn’t been fun until now. Now you had something to look forward to.

Monday morning you opened the shop and kept an eye on the clock. At 7:46 you poured black coffee into a to-go cup. Thirty seconds later, he appeared on the other side of the plate glass window, the navy suit and tie again, blowing out a long stream of cigarette smoke before dropping the butt and giving it a quick twist under his foot. He took off his amber-lensed aviators and tucked them into the pocket of his blazer, then pulled out his wallet. At 7:47 on the dot, he opened the door, met your eyes, and saw you holding up his coffee. And there went that smile again, the dimple, the wink.

You smiled as he approached the counter. “You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” You grinned and wiggled your eyebrows.

He opened his wallet and passed a bill across the counter, larger than what was strictly necessary for a to-go coffee and a reasonable tip. “Great service, keep the change.”

You thanked him, giving him the full-watt smile and wishing him a good day as you opened and closed the register, putting the change into the tip jar. Thankfully there was no one else in line right now, so you could give his handsome figure your full attention as he left, watching how the navy blazer hugged his shoulders.

He went out the door, turned right like he always did, and then he turned his head and his eyes met yours through the glass. You should have felt embarrassed that he caught you staring, but you didn’t. Mostly because you realized that he had stopped to look back, too, which meant you weren’t the only one hoping for more. He nodded and lifted his cup in a gesture of thanks. Then he was gone.

Tuesday was the same, only with the charcoal blazer and the dark red tie this time. The wink, the flutter in your gut, the over-tipping. The glance across the counter as his fingers brushed yours around the cup. The aviators slung on as soon as he stepped out the door.

Wednesday, again, the navy suit and tie, another brush of the fingers, a smaller tip but a bigger smile, gracing you with that dimple again. Another gravelly, “Thank you,” that sounded warmer than he had to date. The handsome profile and a quick meeting of the eyes through the glass as he left again.

Thursday was the same, only better. You used a permanent marker to write something on his paper cup before you poured it precisely at 7:46 a.m., watching, waiting. He did not disappoint. At 7:47, precisely on time, you caught a glimpse of his profile as he came into view through the plate glass window. Charcoal again. He turned and saw you inside, then opened the door, holding it again for a woman exiting. You pointed at his to-go cup on the counter and smiled.

“You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?” He smiled and twitched an eyebrow at you.

You smiled back, “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.”

The handsome man chuckled and pursed his lips. “And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” You winked and immediately regretted it, it felt too bold, it wasn’t your normal mode.

He met your eyes and said simply, “I am.”

You felt your face split into a wide smile. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

He nodded. “Good to know. I’m Javier, by the way.” He stuck his hand out and shook yours. You gave him your name and a warm shake of the hand.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” You rotated the paper cup so that the writing was facing him. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

His eyebrows popped up, and then he gave you an appraising glance, like he was impressed. You saw his tongue shift up under his lip to suck a tooth and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to see how that tongue felt on you. You flushed hot, tingling with desire.

He arched an eyebrow at you. “You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” You winked at him and laughed.

He stuck his hand out once more and you gave him yours. He lifted it and kissed the back of your hand, mustache sweeping ever so briefly over your knuckles before he gently released it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” his voice was low and something in it went straight to your groin, making your pelvic muscles clench. You watched him pick up the cup and go, smiling at you with that dimple through the glass as he left. You stood for just a moment, hoping, hoping, hoping. Maybe he would call you after work?

At 1:00 you finished your shift and handed the register off to Mike. You were just untying your apron and hanging it up when you saw a familiar profile sweep into view outside the window. Javier. Your stomach flipped over and a million little butterflies flew out.

He ducked inside the door and searched the shop for a moment, smiling when he saw you coming out from behind the counter with your bag slung over your shoulder.

“Hey,” you stood for a moment and hesitated, suddenly shy.

Javier slipped his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

“No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.” You smiled. “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

He smiled, wider than you’d seen him do so far. “That’s perfect.”

He let you lead, walking him across the street and around the corner to the sub shop. You made small-talk on the way there, finding out that he was from Laredo but new to Austin, a former DEA agent consulting for the state. You picked up your food and walked a block over to the small city park, where you told him about your roommates, your cat, your wish to go back to school and finish your degree. By the end of lunch you were both smiling, feeling that spark, the little magnetic pull that had started over his coffee orders. At 2:00 Javier said he had to get back to his office.

“... but I’d really like to see you again. Can I take you to dinner? Tonight if that’s okay, since you’re working tomorrow night.” He stood close to you, looking warmly into your eyes.

“Yeah, that would be great.” You felt that flutter again, that twitch of interest from looking into his warm brown eyes, seeing the way they crinkled when he smiled. You were so busy looking at his eyes that you didn’t see him reach his hand out, sweeping it around to circle your shoulders and pull you in for a kiss. You kissed him back, as urgently as was proper for the time of day and the public setting. When he pulled away to walk back up the few blocks to his office, you stood there dazed. Wow.

You went home and napped, then showered and changed into datewear. Javier picked you up at 7:30, and you were relieved that the little spark was still there. You had half-worried that it would wear off in the few hours between your lunch date and now, or that it was a localized feeling limited to a small radius around the coffee shop. But dinner was fun and warm, and by the end of dessert and coffee you didn’t want to leave him yet. You decided that you would be bolder than you normally were.

“Listen, my roommates are home, but do you want to go back to your place?”

Javier looked surprised for only a moment and then smiled, “Yes, let’s go.”

You kissed all the way back to the car, ran your hands lightly over the back of Javier’s neck as he drove, kissed all the way from the car to his apartment door, and tumbled inside together, feeling for buttons and zippers and helping each other out of your clothes. His erection felt warm and solid against your hip, and when he finally got naked you were nearly moaning at the expanse of his broad shoulders and golden skin. He was beautiful.

Javier walked you backwards to the bedroom and paused only to pull a wrapped condom out of a drawer and turn on the bedside lamp to chase away the dark. You lay back and watched him as he tossed the foil packet onto the quilt next to you and then knelt beside your legs. He looked at you as he ran his hands up and down your naked thighs. Then he butterflied your legs slowly apart and ran one warm hand up to your pussy, teasing you with his fingers, dipping them in and out between your labia and running them up to tickle your clit.

“Can I eat you out?” He asked almost shyly.

You nodded, a breathy “Yeah,” issuing from your lips. Javier dove down and licked into you with a rush. You gasped and threw your head back, clawing your fingers down into the blankets. Javier worked you open on three fingers and used the tip of his stiffened tongue to flick your clit rapidly from side to side while his fingers slipped slowly in and out. You moaned and fought the urge to close your legs while he curled and stroked inside of you, finding the spots you could never quite reach yourself. Within a few minutes you were cresting the wave of release.

“Oh God, I’m gonna come! Keep- keep going,” you gasped, “Just like that!” Javier kept his pace steady, working you along as you huffed and breathed faster. He curled his fingers just right and you sped off the edge into oblivion, gulping and grunting and making noises that were almost embarrassing, that didn’t sound like you, but you felt too good to even care. Javier stopped licking and slowed his fingers as you clenched around him, using the broad flat of his tongue to swipe a long, comforting stripe up the outside of your labia. When you were finished coming, he pulled his fingers out slowly and sat up on his haunches, smiling like a prizewinner.

He wiped one broad, flat hand down his mouth and chin, and then crawled up the bed to lay next to you, stroking you from hip to breast with his thick fingers. “Was that okay, cariño?”

You groaned out a chuckle, “Oh yeah, that was good.” You rolled onto your side to face him, and drew him in for a deep kiss. You loved the mix of how he smelled and tasted, your own salty musk blending with his spicy cologne and the smoky phantoms of cigarettes past and his after-dinner coffee. As you kissed, his hand came up to stroke a trail of goosebumps on your shoulder, and you reached yours down to stroke his cock to attention. The heft of him was thick and warm in your hand, and within seconds he was hard and throbbing. You ran the pad of your thumb up the bottom of his head and over his slit gently, and you giggled as he shuddered and reached down to pull your hand away.

“You keep going like that and I’m not going to last long.” His thick fingers wrapped around yours, and he pulled your hand up to place a long kiss to the inside of your wrist, blowing warm air out through his nose, the feel of it on your skin sending a thrill up your spine. He reached for the condom and opened it, rolling it down his proud length. He put his hand down and stroked your thigh before hooking one hand behind your knee to pull your leg up and over his hip. He held himself so that his tip was buried just at your entrance, then he thrust up and into you in one swift motion. You inhaled sharply and hooked your leg tighter around him, letting him set the pace. He nudged your jaw, nosing up into the crook of your neck and kissing you from ear to chin and back again.

His hot words sent chills down your neck and your nipples stiffened into sensitive buds. “Baby, you feel so fucking good, so hot and wet. Fuck, you’re amazing.”

You kissed him and shushed him, then you pressed an open palm to his chest, “Wait. Roll over. I wanna get on top.”

Javier grinned in the dim light of his bedroom, then he wrapped his big hand around your lower back and pulled you over with him. You shifted and settled into place, and the feeling of being speared on him, of his cock hitting deep inside, of his coarse curls rubbing against your clit was almost to the point of overstimulation. You whined and fell face down into the crook of his neck, smelling his warm spiced fragrance and going limp at the ‘too much’ of it all. He planted his feet flat on the bed and kept his arms wrapped around you, thrusting up, up, up into you over and over. He made the most delicious noises, sounds that might have been words or not, but which conveyed all of his pleasure in little grunts and groans.

You decided you wanted to watch his face, so you sat back up and braced yourself on your knees, rolling your hips in rhythm with his and helping him chase his high.

“God, you look so fucking good on my cock, cariño. So beautiful.” He started to turn glossy with sweat, tiny golden beads reflecting the single lamp beside the bed and making him look surreal. You followed a drip of sweat as it appeared on his neck and then ran down to pool in the hollow at the base of his throat. You tipped forward once more to lick at it, to taste the salt and the smoke of him and nip one tiny bite into his neck before moving up to lick and nibble at his earlobe.

Javier suddenly tensed his legs, giving one big thrust and then hissing out a “Fffff-” between his lips as he came. He thrust again and then stilled, relaxing back into the bed, but keeping you close against him. You let him hold you, your breaths slowing together until you were back, calm again, heartbeats back to center. He released you and held the base of the condom as you lifted off and rolled onto your back. He went to the bathroom, and you heard him run water before he returned with a wrung-out washcloth. He offered it to you, and you declined with a weak wave. He turned and tossed it into the bathroom sink and then motioned for you to scoot off the bed so he could turn the covers down.

He picked up a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, gesturing at you with a raised eyebrow. You put a hand up, “Not a whole one, but I’ll take a drag off yours if that’s ok.”

“Sure thing.” He lit one and passed it to you, and you took a deep drag before handing it back.

“Thanks.” You blew the smoke out in a blue stream.

He crawled into bed and patted the mattress next to him. “Stay,” he looked at you with a smile. “If you want to.” He parked the cigarette back between his plush lips.

You smiled warmly and crawled in next to him. “Okay, just for a little while.” You checked the digital clock beside the bed. “I gotta go home and change, and then get to the coffee shop at 5:00. Can you set the alarm for 4:00?”

He nodded and picked up the clock, pressed a few buttons and slid a switch into place. Then he raised his arm and settled it around your shoulders, and turned off the lamp. You watched the cherry of his cigarette glow and then turn faint, bobbing in the dark as he moved to flick ash into the ashtray on the nightstand.

He murmured low, into the quiet room, “You know, I’m only here for the summer. The consulting job ends in August.” He paused to take the final pull of his cigarette, then stubbed it out in the ashtray. “After that, I gotta go back to D.C.”

You yawned and nodded. “No problem. We can have fun this summer. I’ll take you to Barton Springs and Mount Bonnell, give you the real Austin tour. We can just have fun for now.”

He kissed your forehead, moving down your nose to land soft kisses on your lips. “Okay, summer girl. I’m all yours… for now.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme

[pbandjesse]

It's a little sad we didn't get to go couch shopping today but it was an excellent day and I got a lot accomplished for moving. I slept okay. D&D last night ended not too late. And me and James went to bed. We woke up around 8:30 and he was very tired. But I had more energy and I really wanted to get some stuff accomplished since he was going to work. He made us breakfast and I got dressed. And then once we had eaten we packed up a whole bunch of stuff in the kitchen. I worked on stuff in the bathroom and we kind of made a game plan. I would go over to the new apartment after walking him to work. I would buy some clearance markers that are my favorite kind of brush pen and go work for a few hours to get the place ready for being moved into tomorrow.

So we packed and around 10:30 ish we left. Got over to darts or and every night for the clearance section. Talked a couple of James co-workers. And I bought like 15 Mercury. They're really nice and all the colors are very pretty. Actually might go back and buy a couple more because there was some thinks that I didn't get. And they're like 75% off if not more. And I want to try to start drawing more so this was a very good like serendipitous thing to happen.

I left James there and hoped he had a good day at work. And I biked over to the new place. Still having trouble with my key in the front door. I think I've kind of figured out the way you have to put it in and turn as you pull out to get it to do it. I'm going to have to ask Vistaril. Because it makes me crazy. I'm always afraid of me to break my key in the lock.

The event was pretty dirty. I'm going to admit that. The floors were really gross and the Cowboys disgusting. I turn the air conditioning really hot. I don't know why I was so overheated but I was very uncomfortable. Once I cool down I walk around the apartment and just made notes of things that I want to address. The window in the bathroom is painted shut the bedroom doesn't have a screen in the window. The hallway window is also painted shut. And I also wasn't sure if we had a medicine cabinet. And it turns out we do but it's painted shut I was able to pry off the bottom part and I can tell it opens but the top part I just couldn't get leverage on. I'm hoping if I get like a claw hammer or something I'll be able to pull it off. We'll see. I'm has terrified and excited that something cool inside of it. Or like just a dead mouse.

I have first Dustin a whole bunch. Trying to get on top list of stuff and just make sure it wasn't filthy. I dry Swiffer and all the florist. Took like four Swiffer pads because it was really dirty. The room I'm going to be using as my studio I think with someone else's Studio before because the floor was real dirty and I think it was charcoal. And once I finish that I took a break and I sprayed the bathroom down with Clorox. That ended up not working as well as I was hoping it was and later in the day I went to Rite Aid to buy a stronger bathtub cleaner. Because my God the top was dirty. The whole bathroom was dirty but the tub specifically was filthy. Very scummy. I spent a good two hours today scrubbing the tub. But it finally feels clean and I'm hoping to keep it that way.

I went through with the four wet Swiffer pads I had. But I'm going to have to buy more. I was able to get me apartments for pretty clean though. I still think I'm going to go over it after all the stuff's in and then it'll just kind of be what it is but it did take a lot.

I also put googly eyes on the microwave and the fridge. But the one googly are on the fridge won't stay on so I'm going to have to get some tape. But it looks very funny. I hope Mr will gets a kick out of it when he comes to install the microwave.

I did a lot of cleaning though. The tub took so much time and I was very exhausted. Halfway through the day I walked over to the grocery store and the Rite Aid and checked out the hardware store. I am going to have to go to the hardware store to get bolts to fix my desk and I want to get like a latch lock for the bathroom because the door doesn't stay closed and just other weird odds and ends. Had a snack and hung out in front of the air conditioner. I drew in my notebook for a little while and I was there until about 2:30 or 3. It was a good long day over there. But I'm really excited. It's such a nice space and I can't wait to have all of our stuff in it and just be decorating into making it really really beautiful. And really really us.

Oh and I left there I was pretty tired but I decided to explore the neighborhood just a little bit. I found the coffee shop and I went to the park to see what that was like. There's a flower garden over there. I think it used to be a dog run but now it has a sign that says no dogs allowed. Makes me think of no dogs in the dog park. Made me laugh. And then I came back here to the studio.

I got back here and I heated up some of the Chipotle from yesterday and made a burrito. Went through the fridge and threw out some stuff that we didn't need and had gone bad. We have like two bottles of sriracha going right now. And like a 75000 hot sauces that I've never seen James use at all. But it's fine. We'll get everything organized. The new fridge is a lot better space-wise I think bull be able to use and get rid of a little bit more effectively.

I decided to dye my hair. I used the blue and Sapphire died that I bought at Sally Beauty the other guy. I used most of the two tubes and just absolutely tried to saturate my hair as much as I could. Rinsing it out took absolutely forever but I think I got most of it. I might have to wash my hair again tomorrow but that's okay. It'll be at the new place. The one good thing about renting my hair in the tub here at the studio was that the tub was filthy and it let me see where the soap scum was easier. So it was easy to clean off.

Once the temples clean I took a bath and then I got out and I've been hanging out with sweet pea. James should be heading home from work soon. I might ask you to stop and pick up sandwiches. I don't have a lot of things that we can use to cook anything right now. But that's fine. We'll figure it out.

Tomorrow is official Moving Day. We are going to be getting a U-Haul and moving all my stuff from the garage and as much stuff from over here as James and his friends can handle. I will be at the BMI twerking. I think that's probably for the best because I'm not that strong and I feel like I might just be in the way. So what will happen was I'll come to the new place when I'm done work and I will organize and start putting things away where they're supposed to go. And hoping that around then they will be finishing up bringing stuff in. But we'll see. I just don't want to do it all exhaust themselves and I'm hoping that because James is good at managing people it'll all go smoothly and easily.

I always use a kind of bothering me right now so I'm going to go eyedrops in and I'm just going to hang out. James is supposed to be bringing back some more boxes and I'm hoping that we can get most of if not all of the stuff that we need to tonight. So that he can just grab it tomorrow. I want him to have to come back here to pick up stuff in his parents car as little as possible because parking in front of this building is impossible. So wish us luck. Good night everyone. Have fun tomorrow.

[sockablock]

Something New for Me and You

• (start) (AO3) (prev) (next) • 

Chapter 3: Winter Air in the Library

Today 3:27 AM

Molly Tealeaf: hey there! Molly Tealeaf: i got your number from the movie chat haha Molly Tealeaf: i just wanted to let you know how much fun I had tonight! Molly Tealeaf: you have an excellent singing voice Molly Tealeaf: and we should absolutely do this again ‘(~˘▾˘)’~ Molly Tealeaf: and maybe im being forward but if you ever want to talk about what happened w the electricity? Molly Tealeaf: also I still need to give you that jacket back, don’t i Molly Tealeaf: anyhow you’re probably asleep now so i’ll talk to you later Molly Tealeaf: good night mister caleb!

•

“My sneakers are still fine,” said Nott as Caleb chewed the end of his expo marker and drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “You can cross that one off the list.”

“Are you certain?” he pressed. “They are looking rather tattered, and if I sell the clothes Jester got me then we should be—”

“No way,” Nott frowned, shaking her head. “That was a present! You can’t sell it, what if she asks to see them? Or what if you need to go on another fancy date?”

Caleb scoffed. “I do not think I will be doing that anytime soon,” and then his expression softened. “But you are right. That would be rude to Jester. Fine,” he sighed, and drew a line through ‘new sneakers’ on the whiteboard. “We can see if there is enough money next month.”

“Hey, hey, what about the rings I stole, though?” Nott asked. “Maybe they’ll be worth something this time. Or, if we really need to, we can try running some cons.”

Caleb nodded slowly. “We can go see how the rings sell later, when Bibelots is open. As for trying old tricks, that might have to be a plan C, or even D. I do not really want any undue attention from the law. Better to steal from the shadows.”

She shrugged, and reached across the table to pull Frumpkin into her lap. “Whatever you say, Caleb.”

“Okay,” he said, and scribbled a final number at the bottom of the board. “This should work. If we are careful, in a month, we will have enough electricity to use the television and charge our belongings at home, for sure.”

“Really?” she asked, face brightening. “That’s great! Then we can host movie night, when it’s our turn!”

His triumphant expression turned slightly sheepish. “Yes, spatz, then we can. I take it you know what happened, last night?”

“Yep. I did want to check the TV to make sure, first, but I would’ve said something if Molly hadn’t interrupted—”

Caleb quickly shook his head. “Nein, no, I am…glad that you did not.”

She frowned. “How come?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, er,” he said, “I do not want the others to know that we are struggling, financially.”

“What? Why not?”

He felt wretched as he sighed and said, “I don’t want them to think down on us. We are poor, and they are not. Well, at least we know that Jester and Beau are not—”

“Their apartment was crazy.”

“—and if the Moondrop has such a reputation, I am sure that Fjord and Molly and Yasha are not either. But…but we are, and I am worried that if they found out, they would not want to spend time with us anymore.”

Nott was quiet for a moment. Then she blinked her huge yellow eyes and asked, “Is that why you worked so hard to clean up before, when they came over yesterday?”

He nodded miserably.

There were a few more beats of silence as Nott considered this. Then she nodded firmly and pressed a finger to her lips. “Alright then, Caleb. I won’t say anything. Goblin’s promise. Well, that doesn’t really mean much, I guess. Nott’s promise,” she amended with a faint grin.

He returned the smile and leaned over to ruffle her hair. “Thank you, Nott. I am glad you understand. And hopefully, if nothing goes wrong, we should be fine financially and will not have to worry too much next month.”

She grinned. “Great! And then maybe you could start using your phone too, and you can talk to that purple guy.”

“Maybe,” he muttered, and then stood up and reached for his satchel. “For now, though, we have other things to focus on. Like how it is almost time for work. Are you coming along, today?”

She shook her head. “I’m going to hang around the square and see if I can…help our money problems a bit more.”

“Alright,” he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, “be safe. Stay hidden—”

“—and stay alert, yeah, yeah, I know. I’m a professional, remember?”

He chuckled. “How could I forget?”

She gave him a short, poorly-executed salute. “See you later, Caleb! Have fun at the library.”

He shrugged his old coat on, did the buttons up, and wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck. “See you later, spatz. Have fun in the Square. Come on, Frumpkin.”

And then, after the orange tabby slipped into the hall, he shut the door and headed off to work.

•

Today 10:26PM

Molly Tealeaf: good morning mister caleb! Molly Tealeaf: i hope you slept well, sorry about all those texts last night! Molly Tealeaf: i must’ve had a bit more to drink than i thought Molly Tealeaf: anyways, I just wanted to see if you were free anytime this weekend? Molly Tealeaf: there’s a lovely little coffee shop ive just been dying to try Molly Tealeaf: i think you’d like it

Today 12:14PM

Molly Tealeaf: so if that sounds good, shoot me a text? Molly Tealeaf: ive got a flexible schedule any time before 6 dear

Molly slipped his phone back into his pocket and sagged in the barstool until his forehead hit the countertop. Yasha pulled a cup down from the back shelf and poured him a glass of water.

“I don’t see why I needed to come in so early,” he mumbled, words muffled. “It’s not like I need to practice, really.”

“That’s not a good attitude,” Yasha chided, and slid the drink over. “Gustav made it clear that the 25th anniversary event was important to him, and there are only three days left.”

Molly sighed, and reached blindly for the glass. When his fingers finally made contact, he lifted his head, took a sip, and frowned.

“This isn’t vodka, dear.”

She nodded. “It’s water. It’s noon. You’re hungover.”

Molly scoffed, but took another sip. “I am not hungover,” he protested. “Beau was the only one who got that shitfaced last night.”

“That may be true,” Yasha agreed, “but you are still not in top shape. Desmond did not call a break because he was tired of playing, that is for sure. And the others can tell there is something on your mind. Me included.”

Molly shrugged. “Maybe there is, dear. Or, maybe, I’m just having a bad day.”

“You?” Yasha raised an eyebrow. “I did not know that was possible.”

Molly his tongue out at her. “It happens to the best of us. I would know, because I’m the best of us.”

Yasha sighed. “Is this about Caleb? Is that what this is?”

Molly had a brief flashback to staring at his phone screen at four in the morning, waiting to see if the other man would respond. He shook his head.

“Absolutely not. Not at all.”

Yasha, bless her heart, seemed convinced. “Is it your...abilities? Are they acting up again?”

Molly shook his head much faster this time. “No, no. It’s…it’s really nothing. I promise, I’m in tip-top shape—”

“Good!” grinned Bosun as his large green hand suddenly clapped Molly on the back. The half-orc leaned against the corner of the bar and beamed. “Break’s over now, friend. We’re going again from Toya’s solo. Sound good?”

Molly shot him a cheerful smile. “Sounds wonderful.”

And as they both stood up and walked past, Yasha gave Molly a meaningful, furrowed brow that conveyed just how much she didn’t believe him. He shrugged sheepishly, and followed Bosun back towards the stage with the twirl of an imaginary coat.

•

Nott slipped into a back-alley just on the fringes of the Pentamarket Square, and took a quick swig from her flask. There were plenty of folks out today, morning commuters and shoppers getting a head start on Winter’s Crest gifts. She rubbed her fingers together, and murmured a few quick arcane commands. A small, shimmering hand appeared before her, and then promptly turned invisible. She beamed, and then scaled the dumpster and pulled herself onto a nearby fire escape.

•

Caleb had his nose buried deep between the covers of a particularly promising summary of the history of magical breakthroughs in the Pre-Divergence Era, and almost didn’t notice when Jester dropped her heavy pink bookbag onto the floor and cheerfully plopped her elbows onto the counter, leaning her face annoyingly close to his. He didn’t even blink when she started singing his name and flicking the little metal bell in front of him, and he ignored her as she started insulting him and cursing out his cat, and didn’t even move until she clapped her hands together, muttered the incantation for Thaumaturgy, and made all the doors and windows slam open with a shuddering blast of hellish energy.

Chilly winter air flooded into the library. He looked up, met the raised eyebrow of Jester, and blinked.

“Oh. Good morning, Jester.”

She rolled her eyes, and draped her arms over the counter to try and smack the book out of Caleb’s hands. He pulled away in time, so she rolled onto her back and her upside-down face beamed at him without any hint of annoyance.

“It’s the afternoon, dummy,” she teased. “I finished my classes. I’m here to be tutored.”

Caleb blinked again, and shook his head slightly. “Scheiss, it is already two-thirty?”

She nodded, and flicked him in the nose. “Ah, I knew you were in there somewhere. I sent you like thirty texts, Caleb.”

He gave her an apologetic shrug. “Sorry, Jester. But you know I do not use my phone.”

She pouted, and shook her head. “Why not though, Caleb! It makes life sooo much easier, what’s even the point of having one if you don’t use it?”

“In case I am going somewhere dangerous, and I need to keep in contact with you all.”

Jester giggled. “Why would you be going somewhere dangerous, silly?” And before he could answer she held up her own phone and waved it around in the air. “Besides, I’m not offended, but how will you be able to talk to Molly now? How are you guys going to coordinate your dates?”

Caleb scowled, but mostly out of embarrassment. “Jester, we are barely friends. We aren’t going on dates. If he needs me, he can always contact Nott.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Does he know that? You guys are ‘barely friends,’ like you said. Does he know about the goblin messenger pigeon system you’ve got going on?”

Caleb opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He paused.

“Oh,” he said. “Er...I suppose not.”

Jester huffed dramatically, and tapped him lightly on the arm. “I’ll let Molly know,” she said magnanimously. “In the meantime! I need math help.” She leaned down and rummaged around in her bag until she pulled out a red binder, which she passed to Caleb. “I don’t know what the fuck a vector is,” she said, “but I need to by tomorrow.”

He sighed, and put his book down. “Alright, alright. I’m still technically on shift, though, so pull a chair up here. I can’t leave the front desk.”

As Jester retreated to the copy room—makeshift staff lounge—to fetch a stool, Caleb started rifling through her math notes. They were quite neat, though the margins were completely filled with various doodles, some sketches of her surroundings, and many caricatures of her teachers and fellow students. There were also quite a number of scrawled comments and arrows pointing to various drawings. He sighed again.

“Jester, are you using your math notes to talk to the Traveler?”

There was a pause, and then a thud, and then the sound of Jester harrumphing.

“So what if I am?” she called from the back. “So what? I’ve got to talk to him at some point, and numbers are soooo boring. It’s the only way I’ll even stay awake in class, Caleb.”

He rubbed at his eyes. “I understand that, spassvogel, but have you considered that if you did pay attention, you would not have to come ask me for help so often? Sieversii is an excellent institution, and I am sure if you just applied yourself you would do fine. ”

She came through the door, dragging a stool behind her, and shrugged as she brought it next to Caleb’s position at the counter.

“Maybe,” she said, “but then what would be my excuse to come bother you all the time? Besides, the college might be good but our teacher is shit. I don’t know who ever gave Professor Anders his license, but they should be arrested for mistreating children.”

“You are over twenty years old.”

“All the same,” Jester said, and gestured towards her binder. “Anyways, come on! Learning time! Why are there letters in the bracket, and what am I supposed to do with them?”

Caleb picked up a pencil. “These are indicators, that show magnitude and direction,” he explained, drawing a line across the page. “It means that the, the, say a particle, is moving this way…”

•

Nott, crouching behind the rusted iron railing thirty feet away, cast Minor Image over the necklace grasped in her Mage Hand. It immediately transformed into a pigeon with its wings outstretched, and she quickly yanked the Hand into the air and towards her, creating the illusion, more or less, of a bird taking flight. Nobody seemed to notice anything strange, and she grinned brightly when the hefty silver chain fell into her palm.

“I am the best,” she whispered delightedly to herself, and slipped the necklace into her pouch.

•

“No way,” Beau argued, waving her hands passionately through the air. “Kamordah was robbed. That ref had no idea what he was talking about.”

“Elbowing is a foul, Beau,” Fjord sighed, “and if he didn’t call Redleaf out Alfield would’ve stampeded.”

“Aw, bullshit. That was barely an elbow! And Alfield shouldn’t be talking, their record last year was a mess.”

“Yeah, sure, but you know Redleaf has a history—”

They continued arguing as they made they way down the sidewalk, city buildings towering above them and streets slowly coming alive as the evening crowd finished work and started filtering out for the night. The sky above them was just beginning to darken, and a winter chill swept across their red cheeks and damp hair--still dripping slightly from the gym showers. Eventually, they turned the corner and the metropolitan landscape opened up into a grand view of the harbor, where ships docked on the river and, a block away, the Fletching & Moondrop stood proudly beside the gleaming water.

“Is Jester coming by tonight?” Beau asked after they eventually just agreed to disagree and began making their way to the back staircase of the bar.

“I think so,” said Fjord as followed Beau up. “I’m pretty sure she has an exam soon, but she’s been pretty excited to see how the anniversary preparations are coming. I promised her a behind-the-scenes tour,” he added sheepishly.

“We work in Fletch, though,” Beau said as she rifled through her duffel bag for the keys.

“I know, I know, but Jester still wants to see it. I’ll sneak her into the back during break and besides, I think they like me enough.”

“Do you know what’s been planned?” Beau asked. “It sucks that we’ll be working while it’s all going on.”

Fjord shrugged again. “I know there’s some kind of big production, but that’s all Molly’s told me so far. He came home one night in a skintight dress and a feather boa, but that might just’ve been him.”

“I wish the performers would tell us more,” Beau groused. “They’re so cliquey.”

“They spend a lot of time together, I guess. And, honestly, I don’t know if I could handle that kind of life. Molly’s gone all hours of the day, I’m just glad he and Yasha bother to hang out with us.”

Beau pushed the door open and raised an eyebrow at Fjord. “Was that sarcasm?” she asked.

He grinned. “Maybe,” he said, and swung the door shut behind him.

•

“Oh, Mr. Widogast,” said Yorda, the head librarian, just as Caleb was zipping his satchel shut. “I was hoping to catch you before you left.”

Caleb glanced up, and gave her his signature, politely blank expression. “Hello, good afternoon. Is there something we need to discuss?”

She nodded, and Caleb caught the nervous expression in her eyes. His heart sank.

“Is this about my request for more hours?” he asked dejectedly. “I assume you cannot?”

She wrung her hands. “I’m sorry, dear, but I’m afraid it’s worse than that. Er...I’m going to have to cut you down to only three days a week.”

Caleb fumbled for his bag, and just managed to grab the strap before it hit the ground. His eyes were wide, and he could feel a number of emotions now wracking his brain. He tried to tamp them down.

“But...but...why?” he asked as calmly as he could. “Why? I am a good worker., I have the best record with correctly sorting books, I...I am a good worker, Miss—”

Yorda gave him a pained expression and shook her head. “I’m sorry dear, I’m sorry. It’s not you, understand? The whole library’s budget was cut, I promise this has nothing to do with your performance. I’d let you run the entire building all day if I could, we just can’t afford it, right now. Adelaine's getting a cut too, and I won’t tell you how my salary’s looking. I’m sorry, dear. I wish I could do something about it, but--”

After that, it was largely a blur. At some point, Caleb had eventually collected his things, excused himself, and walked out the front door. He barely remembered striding quickly through the city streets, barely remembered making it back to his building, must have avoided the creaking floorboards by the stairs so Kosh wouldn’t hear him on instinct, and only really awoke as he crept into his apartment and shut the door and slumped down onto the ground and closed his eyes. He could see the numbers dancing in front of him, dried-out expo marker scrawled on the whiteboard, his perfect calculations to ensuring their financial security now shattered.

He couldn’t be mad at Yorda; she was a nice enough woman seemed genuine about her sympathy. Libraries were never really on the city's radar anyways, that and the books were why he wanted to work there so badly in the first place. But now what? Now what was he supposed to do?

Somewhere in the fog of frustration, he felt Frumpkin crawl into his lap. He gratefully accepted the cat’s soothing purrs, and tried to think of what he could possibly do next.

•

Nott was on top of the world. She already had a jade bracelet and another necklace tucked away in her pouch, and was in the middle of the risky but enthralling process of trying to use two Mage Hands at once to carefully remove a woman’s shiny gold earrings. After that, she’d go home and show Caleb the haul she’d gotten today.

•

Today 7:43PM

Molly Tealeaf: actually now that i think about it i wont be free this saturday Molly Tealeaf: its the 25th of the bar! Molly Tealeaf: tomorrow would be best then i can tell you all about it!

Molly, sprawled across the sofa and glaring intently at his phone, almost didn’t notice as Jester danced into the Moondrop’s break room, followed by an exasperated-looking Fjord. But then she grinned delightedly, and threw herself onto the cushion next to Molly and started giggling.

“Mollymauk! How are you today?”

He looked over, took in the sheepish smile on Fjord’s face, and beamed. “I’m doing wonderfully, dear. What brings you here?”

“I need a full tour and breakdown of Saturday’s performance,” she said, instantly snapping in all-business mode. “Fjord doesn’t know shit.”

“Well, come on, I know some things—”

“Like what?” Molly asked, raising an eyebrow. “What could you possibly know?”

He floundered for a moment, and then looked down at the ground. “Drinks are 25% off downstairs,” he muttered. “There’s a new DJ.”

Molly laughed, and flung an arm around Jester’s shoulders. “Stick with me, dear. I’ll fill you in. But Fjord isn’t allowed to know. Not because he works downstairs,” Molly added quickly, “but because I just love seeing him like this.” Then he turned towards Fjord and winked. “Tell Beau she’s welcome up here any time, and I’m sure I could rope Yasha into showing her around.”

As the half-orc rolled his eyes, Jester giggled harder and nodded excitedly. “Ooh, I can’t wait! Oh, but first,” she said, quickly tapping Molly on the nose, “I have a message from Caleb. Well, more or less. Basically if you two are going to be friends, you need to know that he never uses his cell. If you need to talk to him, you gotta go through Nott.”

Molly had a brief flashback to the night before, when three feet of narrow-eyed, suspicious green protectiveness had glared up at him from behind scraggly bangs and a tattered brown hoodie. He thought about Caleb. He sighed.

“Alright, alright,” Molly conceded. “No pain no gain, I suppose. Now, a tour! Come on, I know just where to start.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes. The costume room.”

•

“What’re you doing back down here so soon?” Beau asked, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you and Jester were going to go fuck in the back room?”

Fjord’s ears turned a deep, deep shade of green, and he dejectedly made his way around the bar. “First off all, we weren’t going to do that,” he muttered. “Secondly, Molly stole her. He’s showing her the decorations ‘n whatever now.”

Beau, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, shrugged. “Hey, at least she’s happy, right?”

Fjord sighed, but this did seem to brighten his mood. “Yeah, I guess so,” he agreed, and then gave Beau a sly grin. “Yasha’s up there right now too, by the street level door. Molly says she might give you a tour if you asked nicely. AndI don’t think she goes on break for a while, so if you wanted to sneak up there…?”

Beau’s cheeks colored, and she quickly looked down at the ground. “I...er...nah. Nah, it’s alright. But um...was she wearing that sleeveless shirt?”

Fjord chuckled, and nodded.

“Fuck me running,” sighed Beau, and let her arms uncross. “Damn.”

•

“Caleb, why are you on the floor?” Nott asked as she climbed through the window. Living on the third floor never broke her habit of unconventional entry.

He looked up, and worry instantly spiked through her chest. That glassy-eyed expression usually was a signal that something was wrong. She quickly made her way over, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright? Is...is there anything wrong?”

He nodded, and sighed. “Yorda spoke to me today.”

“...um...alright? What did she say?”

“She cut down my hours. We are now operating on two less days of salary.”

Nott was quiet for a moment. Then she carefully wiggled an arm between his back and the wall, and pulled him into a hug.

“It’s okay,” she muttered. “We...we’ll be fine. You’ll figure it out and oh, hey!”

She broke away, and yanked her pouch out. “Look at this! Look, I got a bunch of stuff today, and it might even be real! Maybe this will help.”

Caleb, who had untensed slightly after her embrace, managed a small smile. “That’s very good, spatz. I am sure they will help quite a bit, we can go see Oglen tomorrow.”

“Great!” beamed Nott with relief. “I can—”

Her phone buzzed. She frowned, and pulled it out.

Today 8:19PM

Molly Tealeaf: hello there Nott

She blinked, and rubbed at her eyes. Maybe the cold air of the apartment was messing with her vision. When she looked back down at the screen, she frowned. It was Molly.

Nott TB: what do you want

There was a brief pause, and the “...” icon let Nott know her response had the desired effect.

Molly Tealeaf: straight to the point i see alright Molly Tealeaf: i was told that if i need to contact caleb you are the person to go to Molly Tealeaf: actually apparently via phone you are the only person to go to

She smirked slightly at that. Next to her, Caleb peered over her shoulder at the tiny screen.

Nott TB: you are correct why do you need him

There was another pause.

Molly Tealeaf: id like to arrange a meeting with him Molly Tealeaf: i need to give that coat back Molly Tealeaf: and i want to treat him to coffee tomorrow to thank him for letting me borrow it

She rolled her eyes, and Caleb spoke.

“Who is that? What are they saying?”

Nott passed her cell over. “It’s Molly. He wants to meet up tomorrow and return your coat and buy you coffee.”

Caleb blinked. There was something stirring at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t entirely pinpoint what it was. “He wants to return my coat and buy me coffee?”

Nott shrugged. “I guess.” And then she brightened and said, “Hey, you should go! You need to relax, I bet, and you love coffee. And free things. And that coat was a present from Jester. She’d be sad if you didn’t get it.”

Caleb rubbed his chin. He glanced down at the phone, and handed it back to Nott. “Al...alright, I suppose. I guess I would not have had anything to do tomorrow anyway.”

“Great!” Nott said. “I’ll let him know.”

Caleb nodded. “Do that, please. I will...um...I will go sort out my closet, now. Excuse me.”

And then he got up, and walked into the bedroom. Nott heard the curtain that divided the room in two slide shut.

She looked back at her phone.

Molly Tealeaf: please tell me you aren’t ignoring me Molly Tealeaf: do you hate me Molly Tealeaf: nott please if anything just let me swing by and get the coat Molly Tealeaf: nott please

She sighed.

Nott TB: he’s in Nott TB: if the coffee place is far he’ll need a ride Nott TB: im watching you mister Molly Tealeaf: uh Molly Tealeaf: thank you Nott TB: dont mention it pick a time tomorrow bye

And before Molly could type out a response, she grinned smugly to herself, put the phone away, and skipped off to bed.

[47pictures]

“Dandelion” [PT. I]

Link to original r/nosleep story here:

https://www.reddit.com/r/libraryofshadows/comments/o7tj7w/dandelion_part_1/

I’d never participated in a group study of any kind before, so for it being my first, I felt like I was actually contributing something useful to the world of science. Some students around campus said there may even be some money involved, mainly just mentioned as an incentive to join in the first place, of course. I volunteered specifically for this one due to the subject matter that its research was geared towards, one that I found a bit fascinating.

Dreams… or, so they advertised. More so the study of how the subconscious works in correlation to our deep-rooted memories.

Dr. Ramirez, young and beautiful, and probably in her mid to late-twenties, explained it all just perfectly, and perhaps in the easiest way it could be.

In the room just ahead of the lab, she gave me a quick rundown of how exactly the machine was going to work. On a dry-erase board, she drew one big near-perfect circle, and inside of it drew another smaller circle. She then pointed at the smaller circle with her marker.

“Let’s say this is the Earth,” she started. I nodded, following along. “And this,” she went on, as she motioned around the bigger circle, “is space and beyond. Everything outside of here is full of endless possibilities, right? You’ve got your other planets, asteroids, comets, satellites, stars, and so on.”

I nodded again, a bit amused with her analogy, wherever it was pointing to.

She continued. “Now, can you imagine where I might be going with this?” she asked with a skittish smile.

I know she didn’t expect me to give her an even remotely correct answer.

“You’re gonna send me to space?” I dryly remarked.

She laughed. “Not quite, but I like your sense of humor.” At least she had one, I thought to myself.

Dr. Ramirez went on to further explain as she drew words over the top rim of each circle, labeling them. She started with the smaller circle.

“This is you, essentially,” she explained while simultaneously writing the word “conscious” over the top rim. She then moved over to the bigger circle. “And this is also you, but the vaster and more mysterious ‘you’, if that makes sense.”

She proceeded to write the word “Subconscious” on top of the larger one.

Thankfully she was a visual demonstrator and I was a visual learner. I remembered a decent bit of this when I took AP Psych back in high school, but then again, I barely passed AP Psych. Had a great teacher, though.

“Have you ever heard the expression ‘as above, so below’?” she asked me.

I suggestively tilted my head. “Here or there, maybe once or twice,” I answered.

“Well, the reason I ask is because I like to compare that exact same expression to how the subconscious and conscious works,” the doctor went on as she pointed at both words with her marker appropriately. “They are both one and the same, however, they like to work in different ways. As you may already know or at least have some sort of grasp on the topic, your subconscious stores most of your long-term data, you know, those memories that can go further back, or even some as recent as yesterday that your brain just decided to lock away in the back. These things don’t require your ‘conscious awareness’ or immediate focus, right?”

From what I noticed about her so far, Dr. Ramirez liked to talk with her hands, but I must say, she made it work for her. It was rather intriguing.

“Whether it’s driving a car, riding a bike, or playing the piano,” she continued. “Or heck, even learning a new language. At some point, you had to learn these things for the first time, and they required a great deal of conscious effort, yes?” I nodded. “So, thankfully, our brains have been blessed with the ability to ‘learn’.” She let out a short laugh. “And so, these memories are stored in our subconscious, where it basically becomes second nature to do these sorts of tasks. You with me so far?”

I nodded again to reassure her. My sandpaper-dry personality probably wasn’t helping, but she really did have my full attention whether she realized it or not. I hope she knew that I wouldn’t have volunteered otherwise.

“Now,” she started again, but this time drew another medium-sized circle just around the “Conscious”-labeled one, “Our understanding of dreams has always been sort of a mystery to science. Many say they’re just random jumbles that our brain picks from our subconscious, whereas some say they’re a state of mind that acts independently on its own. Well now, we’ve learned that both of those answers are… well, sort of correct.” She then labeled the circle that surrounded “Consciousness” under the name of “Dream State”. The entire diagram was starting to look like a big target, with “Consciousness” in the center, “Dream State” being the inner rim, and “Subconscious” as the outer rim.

“Think of our dreams as the Earth’s atmosphere,” she said. “Any sort of debris that enters the atmosphere at high speed, such as a meteor or fallen satellite, gets broken up into little pieces before it can cause some serious damage to all of us down below, right? I’m assuming you were awake for science class in middle school?”

“Eh,” I joked. She took it with a laugh, but if only she knew I used to have an issue falling asleep in school as a kid. “So, our dreams protect us from our subconscious, is that what I’m hearing?”

“Ooh, I like the way you think,” the doctor remarked. “I’d like to think of it more like, in a less catastrophic example, that our dreams ‘filter’ what our subconscious throws at us. Now, there’s still debate on whether or not our subconscious actively tries to communicate with us or our dreams are the ones pulling from our subconscious, but that’s beside the point. What we’ve come to learn, in the midst of all the chaos in our dream state, from being able to fly, seeing the sky turn a different color, seeing giant chickens cross the road, and whatever other crazy things people have mustered from their imagination is that dreams are no longer the barrier that stands between understanding our subconscious. We’ve now developed a way to essentially enter our subconscious state, unfiltered and uninterrupted.”

And that was where she threw me for a loop. I stammered to try and find the words to even begin questioning something so bizarre, but with no luck. I could tell she was amused by my bewilderment from the smile on her face. We'd come so far in technology and scientific advances - was this it? Is this what the future held all this time?

“So, Mr. Thompson,” Dr. Ramirez spoke. “Are you ready to explore space?”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She led me to the lab room where we would be doing our first session of the experiment. I was expecting something more intricate or complex. In reality, the setup was quite minimal. An operating stool sat in the center as expected, and next to it stood a monitor that I assumed was for checking my pulse. Along the wall was the real sight to behold. Large screens displaying all sorts of numbers and diagrams in which I couldn’t even comprehend their meaning. Though, from what I could probably guess, it looked like some sort of EEG setup. I’d seen it in movies and documentaries (and back in AP Psych class), but never in person.

“Now before we start, I have to ask if you’ve eaten in the past 8 hours?” Dr. Ramirez asked. “It’s a precaution we take for all of our test subjects due to the side effect of leaving the hub.”

“Uh, just a protein bar,” I said. “Did you say ‘hub’?”

“Oh, yes, that’s sort of the nickname we came up with for what’s basically the ‘subconscious state’.”

“Oh…”

“So that’s good that you’ve had some form of sugar and carbs at least today. Sometimes people report feeling a bit lightheaded or lethargic after the session, and the first thing they’ll usually want is a coffee or a soda. We have a vending machine for soda, snacks, or coffee - whichever you prefer - across the hall if you need them afterwards.”

All this time we had discussed going from point A to B, but not how. Looking around the room, seeing all the tech being used, I couldn’t imagine the funding that must’ve been poured into this project.

“I’m sure you’ll get to it soon enough, but how exactly does this work?” I finally asked, doing my best not to sound impatient. Dr. Ramirez, however, seemed more than happy to explain.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she replied. “Well let me just give you a basic rundown of what this all does and how it’s going to affect you.”

She picked up a small lightweight device from the table that clearly looked like some sort of headset, much akin to a VR one. However, it had a sort of synthetic material cap attached to it, with multiple white dot-like pieces carefully placed. It certainly looked like an EEG device for scanning the brain, as I'd guessed earlier.

“This is why we’re here today,” said Ramirez, pointing at the device with her free hand. “This little guy here is called the Cadacus.”

I cocked a brow.

“Supposedly it’s derivative of Hermes’ staff, you know, in mythology, the symbol used for ambulances and medical-related stuff?”

“Mmm,” I understandingly nodded.

“I tried to tell them that one, it’s spelled wrong, and two, it’s not even pronounced correctly,” she said, rather annoyed. “It’s supposed to be ‘Ca-doo-she-us’, but, then again, I’m not the one who invented it, so Dr. Lockhardt gets the final say on that.”

She then handed me the set for me to get a feel for it and analyze it for myself. Nifty, needless to say. As she had explained, the device was capable of not (and she greatly stressed) recording your dreams, per se, but instead taking you into your ‘subconscious’ world. Dreams are merely the barrier blocking us from seeing our subconscious thoughts and memories uninterrupted. In dreams, situations and objects might change sporadically at any given time without warning. One of the greatest struggles, she explained, when testing the Cadacus was trying to find the breakthrough in how exactly to bypass the REM cycle, which is when most of our dreaming occurs. But she explained that as well…

“In the world of science and medicine, or rather human innovation as a whole, we’ve learned how to basically pick certain parts of our brain and utilize them how we see fit, and not the other way around,” she preached. “Not have them decide for us. Essentially, Cadacus allows us to hack certain parts of the brain that are responsible for letting us take a peek inside our deepest embedded memories. I like to tell people the closest thing we have to a time machine is our own brain. In it lies a whole world of events and moments that you may have forgotten, or choose to have forgotten.”

“So what’s to stop it from peeking into memories that are… I don’t know, better left forgotten?” I proposed. Of course, she had an answer for that as well.

“Great question. So the beauty of Cadacus is that just like I mentioned, you now have the utmost control over what you decide to see… or, at least we’re testing to make sure things stay that way.”

And there it was. That was the catch. After all, nothing was ever perfect.

“I’m sorry, I just have to ask, how many people have you tested this thing on?” I boldly inquired. Ramirez seemed unbothered by the question, though. In fact, nothing seemed to bother her with everything I asked. To me, it conveyed confidence in the things she spoke on, which I hoped also equated to her being sincere.

She chuckled. “Honest answer? About twenty-four so far. Now I’m sure the real reason you’re asking is because you want to know how many of those tests turned out successful or not, yeah?”

I answered with a guilty smirk. Absolutely that’s why I asked.

“Well you have nothing to worry about, Mr. Thompson,” she reassured. “All of the people who’ve participated so far haven’t reported any negative side effects, other than the low energy blunder right after the exiting the hub. So you're not gonna have to worry about spazzing out or going 'mental' in any sort of fashion. And keep in mind, these tests were done over the course of weeks, and some even months, depending on whether or not we came across more interesting findings during the sessions.”

She really didn't back down from a fight. Ramirez stuck to her facts, despite how truthful or not they were, unbeknownst to me. I took in a short tense breath, then exhaled.

“All right, but you have to promise me one thing,” I said.

“Yeah?”

“Call me Travis. If I’m supposed to trust you with handling my brain, we oughta start getting to know each other a little better, don’t you agree?”

She smiled and nodded. “Fair enough,” she replied. “In that case, you may call me Jennifer.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The Cadacus was now all set, and we were ready to start. The headset over my eyes, electrodes covering my scalp, and the HRM hooked to my wrist and chest were all properly configured. Jennifer also had everything she needed set up on her giant monitor, where she could now see my full brain, able to pinpoint any changes in activity. From my perspective, the Cadacus headset made everything in the room look like I was peering through a fish-eye lens scope. It was all blurred and a bit disorienting, but it wouldn’t be for long once I entered the hub, Jennifer informed me.

“You ready?” she asked, sounding more excited than I was.

“Sure,” I answered, lying through my teeth.

“Oh yeah? ‘Cause from the looks of it, you seem pretty nervous.”

I knew she had to be looking at my heartbeat to know that.

“It’s okay, everyone experiences the same thing,” she added before I could say anything. “Just try to relax. Remember, it’s not like a dream where you have no sort of control over what happens to you. You’ll have control over the things you experience just like you would in the comfort of your own home, based on the words that I give you. You don’t have to see something scary if you won’t want to. Remember that, okay?”

I took a deep breath. “Okay,” I complied.

“Good.” She gave me a pat on the shoulder and walked back over to her desk by her computer and giant monitor. “Alright, so what I’m gonna do is I’m gonna have you count down to 'one', starting from 'five' when I say so. Sound good?”

“Ready when you are,” I answered.

“Alright…”

I couldn’t see her really from the corner of my goggles, but I could hear her hit a few keys on her computer, along with two clicks of her mouse.

“Okay...” she started.

And with one final click of her mouse, a high-pitched whirring sound began to emit from the Cadacus and straight into both of my ears. It reminded me of the times I had to get a hearing test done, and all those high-frequency noises sounding from left to right.

“Go ahead and countdown for me,” she said.

“Five,” I began. “Four. Three. Two-”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I’m not sure how quickly it all happened, but the next thing I knew, I was suddenly standing alone in the center of some vast blackness of space, as I opened my eyes. The only light came from above in the form of what looked to be a stage spotlight, which shined down on me. I didn’t have the sensation that I was dreaming, though. I felt fully present and aware of the fact that I didn’t even finish my countdown. Just moments ago, I thought, the last number I was on was ‘two’. And now this is where I was. Not laying in the chair of the lab room, no headset or goggles covering my face...

Then a faint, echoey voice sounded from no particular direction. It seemed to come from everywhere.

“Travis, can you hear me?” it spoke. “This is Jennifer. If you can hear me, just go ahead and say something.”

Amazing. She wasn’t kidding. It’s as if she were God herself.

“Yeah…” I answered unsurely. “Can you hear me?”

“Perfect, I hear you just fine,” Jennifer spoke back from the ‘beyond’.

This was a bit too trippy for me. I really didn’t know what to expect, but this exceeded anything I could’ve possibly rehearsed prior in my head.

“You never did count to one,” she joked.

“Oh yeah, um… one,” I remarked. I could even hear her laugh just the same as if she were right next to me. Her voice began to sound more and more clear as she kept talking.

“There we go. Now tell me, right now, what is it that you see?”

Not a damn thing, I wanted to say. But I gave her what I could.

“Well…” I began, looking all around me, still under the spotlight, “I’m standing in… what I think is a stage, and there’s like…” I looked directly up, “... a spotlight right over me.”

“Interesting,” I heard Jennifer say. “That’s a new one for me.”

“Where am I?” I asked.

“So, you’re actually in ‘the hub’ as we speak. This is just your interpretation of it.”

“My interpretation?”

“Uh-huh. So what happens is that basically, our own subconscious mind presents itself to us through its own unique layout, or environment, if you will. For instance, every time I went through it, I was always standing in a giant ocean of shallow water, and a bright blue sky with no sun in sight. Others see a never-ending field of grass, a barren desert, or maybe even an empty warehouse, in some cases.”

“Huh…” I quietly mumbled.

“So for you, your subconscious presents itself in the form of an unlit stage, probably waiting to be filled.”

I expected to be more afraid, given that there was basically a never-ending plain of darkness beyond the spotlight, but to my own surprise, I found it a bit peaceful. It also helped that Jennifer was still with me.

“Your vitals appear to be in great shape, which is good. Means your body is responding well to the Cadacus so far. And on that note, I’m gonna begin going down our list of ‘sensory triggers’.

I wish she had picked a less threatening word than ‘triggers’, especially when I’m in a place so foreign to me (ironic, given that it is me).

“How this is going to work is that I’m going to give you a word, and with that word, I want you to close your eyes and concentrate as much as you can on connecting that word to a specific thought or memory, okay? It sounds odd, I know, but trust me, you’ll see pretty soon. Don't overthink it.”

“Well, I trusted you this far, haven’t I?” I remarked.

“Yes, indeed you have, and I’m thankful for that. Okay, so the first word I’m going to give you is… golf.”

“Okay,” I spoke under my breath, as I began to close my eyes.

I visualized everything that I possibly could relating to golf, all the way from a golf ball, to Tiger Woods, to a golf club, then to a field of low-cut grass, to a golf cart, and so on…

I did this for about five seconds before opening my eyes again. When I opened them, I was met with what I could only describe as the piece of a house set design. It truly was like I was on the stage for a film studio or theater. The set design only showed an open door and small portions of the perimeters of the walls of the structure. It was as if someone cut a portion of the house like a slice of cake, particularly the front door, and placed it in front of me.

“Do you see anything?” Jennifer’s voice asked.

I saw something, alright. The problem was, I didn’t exactly know what. Obviously, it was a house, but an incomplete one.

“Uh, I see… a part of a house,” I said. “Like, it sorts of looks like those half-built set houses that you see on film sets, you know, like for shows or movies?”

“Oh, I see. Interesting… Your subconscious mind must be very, hmm… imaginative? Or strongly connected to the cinematic or theatrical.”

“Hmmm... it's a theory.”

“Hey, no one knows you better than yourself, right?"

I shrugged. "I guess."

"I'm not trying to intrude or anything, this is just me taking notes to see if there’s perhaps a correlation between your own personal awareness and how your subconscious views itself, does that make sense?”

“Yep.” Sort of, anyway.

“Okay, so go ahead and do me a favor and try to describe the house to me. Or what you can of it, at least.”

“Well, the door is open,” I started.

“What’s the door look like?”

I shrugged. “I mean… it’s just a regular door. Brown, wooden, has a peephole and everything. Nothing too unordinary.”

“Okay… what else?”

From the brief pauses in between her sentences, I could tell she was taking notes.

“Um, from the portion of the house that I can see,” I continued, “it’s made out of wood instead of brick. Light-blue wood, to be exact. I can see a small little porch light perched in the corner, like just before the wall cut off.”

There was a brief awkward silence in between, which I assumed was my cue to keep talking while Jennifer kept taking notes.

“And…” I started again, this time trying to peer into the house through the open door. Oddly, I could see that there was an abundant amount of space between the open ‘stage’ and the inside of the set design house. From where I was standing just several feet away, there appeared to be stairs leading up to a second floor, and a bit to the right was a living room with a couch and perhaps other furniture hidden from view, and beyond, a small hallway leading to what looked to be a kitchen, and maybe even a backyard door and other rooms.

Physically, it didn’t actually make sense. There was no way for there to be all that space in between here and there. It was like looking through a portal, essentially, where the space in which I stood didn’t proportionally match the one in which I was viewing. I liked to call it the ‘small house, big space’ phenomenon. But this was something else entirely...

“It looks like I can go inside the house,” I finished.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Jennifer replied. “Do you want to?”

I didn’t seem to have anywhere else to go, so it seemed to be my only real option. I went ahead and walked towards the open door, my view of the inside space growing more and more visible. Once I made it inside, an overwhelming sensation that I couldn’t quite put my finger on began to overtake me. It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t joy, it wasn’t sadness… yet, in a strange way, it was almost all three of those things at once.

The house was well-lit in all spaces and corners, quite impossibly, given that there wasn’t enough light on the ceilings to emit such radiance. In fact, there didn’t seem to be a real source for light at all, as the one on the ceiling wasn’t even on. The house just emitted a sort of white luminescence, the kind I’d normally see from white plasma beam lights in bathrooms at gas station stops, and I could practically hear that low endless buzzing noise that filled the space.

But this time, I didn’t hear a noise at all. Silence filled the house instead. Pure silence. That was the only unnerving thing. Even odder, I couldn’t even hear my own heartbeat or breathing. Only the sound of my footsteps emerged here and there whenever I made a move across the wooden floor, leaving behind a faint echo, but that was it.

Taking in the overall atmosphere and setup of the house, for some reason, I felt as though I could guess, or even most certainly knew the time period in which the interior currently reflected. Perhaps late nineties to early 2000s. Maybe even pre-9/11. I wasn’t exactly sure on the year, but I just had that strange certitude of that particular era. Beige walls, carpeted flooring, and brown wooden kitchen cabinets all in a very particular layout that just seemed 'dated'.

“See anything interesting?” Jennifer asked.

“Well, if that’s the word you wanna use to describe this,” I muttered.

“Just say the first thing that’s on your mind.”

I looked around, trying to find the first thing I could to catch my eye. But something was extremely off about the house apart from its age. It’s as if I knew this place, but yet I couldn’t understand how. The smell even brought about a strange sense of familiarity. A faint scent of-

“Lavender,” I said. “It smells like lavender.”

There was a brief pause. Then Jennifer finally spoke. “Tell me, does the lavender scent mean anything to you? Maybe, bring you back to a certain time or place?”

“I… I think so. I’m not sure how, though.”

“What else can you tell me about the house?”

I glanced about again.

“There’s a corded phone sitting on a stand, next to a lamp and a recliner,” I said.

“Corded, huh?”

“Yeah, corded.”

“Does the house seem a bit… outdated? Or from a different time than present-day?”

Now it was as if she could read my mind.

“Yeah, that’s about right,” I concurred. “You know how some houses just look old? Like houses they just don't make anymore?”

I heard Jennifer let out a small chortle. “I know exactly what you mean.”

I shook my head confusingly. “But it’s like I know this place somehow,” I added.

“Well Travis, even though you nor myself know exactly where it is you are, I can tell you this. What you’re standing in right now is likely an old memory you’ve long forgotten, stored into the far reaches of your subconscious. You have been to this place before. This is your subconscious’s best replication and rendering - if you will - of the memory in a way that makes sense to you.” And yet, it didn’t make sense at the same time. “Can you see any pictures posted along the walls or perhaps over a fireplace anywhere?”

There actually was a fireplace in the living room, and plenty of picture frames. But there were no pictures. Not a single one in any of the big, small, and portrait-sized frames set throughout the house. Yet, they were all carefully positioned as though there were supposed to be photos within the frames for people to see.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t,” I answered, puzzled.

“I see,” Jennifer responded. “So as odd as that may seem, it’s actually a common thing people who’ve used the Cadacus report about seeing in ‘the hub’, or I guess I should say ‘not see’, in this case. Faces and actual people are a bit more difficult to render and replicate from stored memory banks. Over time, you forget exactly how someone’s face actually looks. You have an idea of how they appear, but you can’t actually remember all the fine details, such as exact facial structure, moles, size between the eyes, you name it. That’s why dreams tend to do a better job at showing you people you’ve seen more recently in your everyday life.”

It was a bit uncanny, if I’m being honest. The least my imagination could do was make up some pictures, I would think, at least just to fill the void. This was just flat out strange…

“Why can’t my subconscious substitute something, like how my dreams do?” I asked.

“Great question. This is where I have to break it to most people. Your imagination is practically meaningless in the hub. Scientists, psychologists and other researchers all over have started to come to the understanding that dreams and the imagination have more in common with each other than our subconscious and the imagination. The subconscious is more concrete and based on what actually happened, whereas dreams and the imagination focus on what could be, and possibly what can happen. So if the subconscious can’t actually remember something, it won’t be able to render it in the hub. That’s often why most subjects just see places and certain structures rather than actual people. Those things are easier for the mind to pick up on and remember to the best of detail.”

The longer I stood in this place, the more it gradually began feeling as though I were standing in a vacuum of space, with no real sense of time or reality. Where was I? How did this all come to be just from the word ‘golf’?

“Try exploring the house a bit more,” Jennifer suggested. “See if that does anything.”

I headed upstairs. Plastered along the walls leading up the stairs and beyond was a fully encompassing floral-design wallpaper. It was a very particular floral design, enough to bring back that sensation I felt earlier when I first stepped in the house...

“I’ve seen this wallpaper before,” I whispered, as I dragged my palm across the walls going up the stairs.

When I got to the top, I saw that the upstairs room was set up to be used for a gameroom. Oddly, the contrast in this room stood out from the downstairs. Small and ever-so-dim corners and shadows placed about the room reminded me of old photos that people used to take on those polaroid cameras from the 80s and 90s. It had a grainy look to it, as well as an uneven exposure. This time, though, it seemed as if I were in one of those pictures.

The space was almost entirely bare, except for a small entertainment system which stood against the wall (this one not being covered in floral design), accompanied by a bulky 30 to 35-inch CRT TV, and a Nintendo 64, with a game cartridge sticking up from inside that I couldn’t distinguish from this far. My mouth dropped open, astonished, and that excited feeling of electricity, the kind you get when you experience an ‘ah-ha’ moment, now replaced any other notion of uncertainty that I may have had before.

“Oh my god,” I spoke under my breath.

“Travis?” Jennifer’s voice sounded.

I let out a short, scoff-like chuckle as I clasped my hands over my head.

“This is my aunt’s old house,” I exclaimed. “My Aunt Deborah - this is her old house.”

"Now we're getting somewhere," Jennifer spoke in a proud tone.

I let out another laugh. “This is insane,” I commented. “I remember we visited here one time. A long time ago. And…”

I stepped towards the entertainment center, and bent over to get a closer peak at the N64. I now clearly saw what cartridge was inserted into the console, and a smile drew over my face.

“Good ol’ country club golf,” I finished. “Wow…”

“Country club golf?” Jennifer asked.

“One of the games we used to play on the ‘64 was Waialae Country Club. ‘True Classics’, to be exact.”

“Ah…”

“That’s insane...” I whispered under my breath.

“I told you you’d see where I was going with this, huh?” Jennifer teased.

I stammered, shaking my head, trying to contemplate what I was experiencing. This was something beyond any other thing I’ve done before. This was bigger than VR or AR. This was something else entirely. It knew my deepest memories and had made a place inside my own brain.

Jennifer continued. “You see, these words that I’m giving you is just a small example of what your subconscious can act with, based on just a single word that can trace back to countless other thoughts stored in your memory bank. We now are starting to understand why we dream something related to a conversation we might’ve had earlier that same day, and why our brains decided to cling onto that specific conversation or even a single word that was said. Cadacus allows us to do that exact same thing but on our own terms.”

Jennifer allowed me to explore the house a bit more. I tried checking out the other rooms, but each time I was met with nearly empty spaces. I’m not sure how my subconscious mind was trying to interpret the house, but it was the equivalent to a bad buffer, or loading bar that never quite finished. Some rooms had little furniture, and for the furniture that did exist, they were weirdly vague.

In different parts of the rooms, it was like a Picasso drawing come to life, just a little neater and more organized. At least I could tell it was furniture and decor for different sections of the house, yet, I couldn’t exactly describe what I was looking at. Some things looked like a chair, others like a lamp, maybe even some jewelry lying about, and other sorts of bathroom accessories like a towel or soap made sense here and there, but overall, when you looked at them altogether, the house was a huge enigma.

“Jennifer, why is everything so…” I began, trying to find the word.

“Disorganized? Jumbled?” she finished for me.

“Exactly.”

“So, remember what I told you, just like with the pictures, the hub can only render and replicate what it knows, or the best idea of what it ‘thinks’ it knows. What is it in your dream - I’m sorry, subconscious state - that looks disorienting to you?”

I let out a short burst laugh. “I wouldn’t exactly know how to describe it, you know? It’s so confusing to me.”

“Do things sort of look like, for example, like they’re pieces of furniture or specific objects, yet, they somehow don’t at the same time?”

Bingo. “Yeah, that’s exactly what it’s like. I don’t understand it, though.”

“Well, that’s what these studies are for, right? What you’re doing right now is a huge help to getting us to better understand how our subconscious minds continue to work in mysterious ways. It seems a common testimony in all the people who’ve participated report the same thing of not being able to completely interpret specific objects. It’s a known fact that over time, our brains will remember things much differently than how they actually occurred, and certain memories will slowly fade over the years.”

“So I can still remember the basic layout of the house, but not what was in it specifically?” I said.

“Mm-hmm. You got it. So… would you like to continue on to a different word?” I obliged. “Very well then. Just like before, when I say the word, you’re gonna close your eyes and just focus on every single thing you can related to that word alone. Ready?”

“Ready.”

“Okay… ‘summer’.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I opened my eyes and was no longer inside. I was outdoors, the sky was clear blue, and it was bright and warm out. Looking down at my feet, I saw that I was standing on grass, and when I looked back up around me, in the distance there were fields of trees that led to deep woods. Not too far to my left lied a small timber bridge just over a tiny creek with a bed full of rocks. It had to be in some sort of park. A summer camp, maybe? Or just perhaps a regular community park I may have visited some time ago.

I walked around to try and see what other things might pop up to spark something inside. As I turned a corner around a field of tall bushes, the scene beyond abruptly changed to that of what looked to be the grounds of a fare or some sort of carnival. A carousel, stuffed prizes, empty concessions, and other sorts of festivities lined up. I remembered a place like this once, I thought.

I told Jennifer all of this, and we both began trying to dig for clues as to what this particular memory was about. However, this one was a lot easier than my Aunt Deborah’s house, since I actually can recall this day. Or, at least the fact that we showed up. The only other moments I can maybe remember having on this day were playing tag with some friends, strangers, or even cousins, and us throwing this small toy shovel at a couple of wasp nests just under the timber bridge I’d seen earlier, then running like hell later to escape their fury. Funny how that thought decided to resurface the longer I stayed here, just goes to show how big of assholes kids could be, and I was no exception. I could never imagine doing something so cruel nowadays.

“Hmm, looks like your mood changed a bit,” Jennifer pointed out, more than likely reading my vitals again from where she was. “You seem relaxed. And the parts of your brain that are lighting up more seem to indicate a sense of joy and happiness. Sounds about right?”

“I miss my childhood,” I replied. “Sometimes it’d be great to just relive a time where I didn’t have to be an adult, you know?”

“Oh, I hear you. Why don’t you say it louder for the people in the back.”

I chuckled. But then I stopped as a thought occurred to me.

“Speaking of which, is it normal to not see anybody at all?” I questioned. “In the hub, I mean?”

“Yes, it’s very normal. In very few cases, we’ve had some people report seeing long-lost family members or even some friends of theirs. When we talked about it after, all of them said that the people they saw in the hub had a strong relationship with them, which tells us that the stronger the bond we share with people in our lives, the longer we hold onto those memories, allowing us to paint a better picture of how they looked through the Cadacus.”

“I guess I don’t love anyone as much as I thought,” I dryly remarked.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Jennifer said, knowing good and well that I was joking. “It’s gonna be different for everyone else. The words that another host or myself gives to you or others won’t come up with the same results, obviously because you all have different life experiences and memories unique to you.”

It was time to move on to a different ‘trigger word’, as Jennifer called them. Still wish she would’ve picked a different name for it, but I digress.

“Alright, you ready?” she started as usual.

“Ready when you are,” I replied.

“Good. Okay… ‘dandelion’.”

As before, I closed, then opened my eyes.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

I found myself standing in a vast lobby of some sort. There was some light, but very little to illuminate the entire space. The floor was a red-colored carpet, the same one you’d see in some movie theaters still. As I looked around at the barely visible walls, an artificial tree standing in a pot in the corner, and another obscure, jumbled rendering of an object that looked gold, I was beginning to think that I actually was in a theater.

I walked forward to explore, and found myself feeling, for the first time since I initially started, rather uneasy. But I didn’t know why…

The area was spacious, and from my perspective, the theater felt as if it could fit hundreds of people. I couldn’t tell if I had shrunk a little or if the design of the place was just that large, but everything felt so gigantic. Unnecessarily gigantic, I should add.

As I kept walking, in the distance I saw a faint shimmer of light grow more and more visible. With each step, I began to realize that it was an overlight, or a sort of spotlight, rather. Underneath the light was a random dinner table, perfectly arranged and set up for guests. But why here? It was so strange and out of place. Yet, I began to notice something else even stranger that I didn’t acknowledge until now. I didn’t hear Jennifer’s voice this time.

“Jennifer?” I called out.

No response. There was no hiding it now. I was nervous. Not just nervous that the Cadacus might have malfunctioned, but nervous because I was alone…

“Jennifer?” I called again.

Still nothing. That uncomfortable silence that filled the hub was louder than anything. I could hear my own heartbeat frantically pounding between my ears.

“Yes?” Jennifer’s voice called back to me. “Travis, can you hear me?”

It was an out-of-body experience to feel much-needed relief after nearly losing it, like being thrown in an icy pool of water just to be pulled back out and doused in warm water. Whether it was a simple mishap in the machine or not, it was fucked up.

“You had me worried there for a sec, Jennifer,” I spoke as I let out a breathy chuckle of relief.

“Yeah, that was kinda strange. Nothing seemed to show interference on my end… I’m not sure what happened. I was calling to you but I couldn’t hear anything back.”

And let’s add that to the list of ‘mistakes’ this test run was supposed to catch while we’re at it.

“Do you see anything interesting - well, I guess I should ask what do you see*?”*

I told her about the theater, at least it was what I thought to be a theater, as well as the obscurity of the dinner table. She of course tried to tie this back with the ‘theatrical’ theme I had going on in my subconscious mind, which I still thought might be a bit of a stretch. For now, she insisted that I kept exploring to see what else I could find that may explain things.

Near the end of the hallway, a door remained a jar, and a bit of a light projected from the room in a wedge shape. I’d have to keep walking further to see what was inside, but I couldn’t help but feel slightly more uneased. Something didn’t feel right about this place. None of the other ones gave me this same sensation.

I carefully stepped into the room with the open door, and was confused by what I saw. The scene had changed yet again, this time to what looked to be a party room of some sort. Long tables were aligned with chairs pushed in and spaced apart from each other. Plastic colored cups, paper plates, napkins, and birthday party hats were neatly stacked and perfectly organized along each row. The floor also had a retro-patterned carpet design like the ones I’d see in other theaters or arcades, making me feel like I was going to space.

The lighting in here was different as well. It was a dimly-lit blue ambiance, almost like a night light. I found it rather calming compared to the outside in the theater lobby.

Then from behind me, the deafening sound of the door slamming shut filled the room, and filled me with dread as I jumped.

“Travis, are you okay?” Jennifer’s voice sounded. “Your heartbeat’s escalating really fast. Is everything all right?”

I almost forgot how to breathe.

“I-I don’t know what just happened,” I stammered. “The door shut.”

“The door? What door?”

“The one to the party room. I’m inside the party room and the door just slammed. Am I alone? I-Is someone here with me?” I was panicking.

“Travis, remember what we discussed. You do not have to see anything scary if you don’t want to. You hear me? You do not have to be afraid. Just take a deep breath, close your eyes, and count to three, okay?”

That was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to yell at her to get me out of the damn thing. I was now getting the feeling that I maybe wasn’t alone after all in the hub. I hadn’t seen a single figure yet, and the first signs of anyone else being here with me began to seem more alarming than I once thought.

I closed my eyes and did what she said. I counted.

“1… 2… 3.”

I opened my eyes again, and this time, I was still in the party room, but the calming blue luminescence was now replaced with an unsettling crimson color instead. The place had turned into a red room. I didn’t tell Jennifer, but I hated the color red. It was a lot of people’s favorite color, but I never liked it. It made me feel sick, and now I was drowned by it.

I looked around and noticed other horrifying features of the room. Streaks of what I could only assume was blood were randomly plastered across different parts of the room. What kind of memory was this?

Anxiety returned. I found it hard to breathe yet again. I needed to get out of here.

“Jennifer, get me out!” I yelled. “You hear me? Jennifer, please get me out!”

This time, she didn’t respond. Fuck. It was malfunctioning again. This was not a good time to start fucking up now.

“Shit,” I muttered. “Shit, shit, shit…”

Panicked, I stood huddled in a corner of the room, not sure where to go, but definitely not wanting to leave myself exposed to whatever may be out there. I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be stuck here, maybe forever for all I knew. But right now wasn’t the time to think of any of that. I had to get the fuck away from this place. Whatever positive mental tricks Jennifer tried to preach clearly wasn’t working. I had to be brave, I told myself. It was just my own subconscious. I tried to tell myself that to give me some sort of comfort.

I crept over to the door with nothing to defend myself with. Jennifer wasn’t here to accompany me now. I was alone.

When I got to the door, I hesitated to place my hand on the knob. But I slowly raised and positioned it over, and was just about to grasp the knob until I realized something. There was now a window framed onto this door, unlike the first time…

I looked up, and right before my eyes, a child, a small boy, slammed his hands onto the window from the other side, screaming at the top of his lungs. To this day, I have yet to witness something as bone-chilling and hair-raising, and something so fear-inducing as to make me feel as if my own soul left my body.

I jumped back, so frightened that I fell to the floor. I kept my eyes fixed on the child, though, and he continued beating on the window, screaming for help. He was the first person I’d seen in the hub, and he was so real. So vivid. The fear in his eyes, the franticness… I wanted to help him.

But before I could do anything, something, or someone snatched him away and disappeared from the other side of the door.

“No!” I gasped.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Before I knew it, I was back in the lab room with Jennifer right next to me, frantically removing the Cadacus from off of me. The sterile whiteness of the room blinded me as she removed the headset from my eyes.

[rustyyart]

I did a thing! Drew some actual OCs for the first time in a while. This post is about to get long so I’ll put the rest in the break. These were my first ever OCs so I have a LOT to say. Not that anyone’s reading so I’ll just use this as a time marker for future me.

Tbh I’m pretty sure the redesigns had long sleeves besides the tube top. Whoops.

Drawn: December 4, 2020

You asked for it.

Heart

          My first ever OC as far as I can remember? I might’ve created Amber before her, but all of my OCs were named “Girl” or “Boy” for an embarrassingly long time. Hell, these are still named after their symbols. First drawn in 4th grade when I was nine, Heart was originally on the Titanic and was created when I was bored in class and remembered I had seen part of the movie Titanic the night before. She played the part of Rose and I mostly drew the part where it sank LMAO. She gets home to her sister (Flower) and is like “It sank” and Flower is like “Aw.” and then they go off and played video games. IDK I was a master of comics.

          Heart is in a really weird place. She was this really tough tomboy who protected her more feminine sister and got into trouble a lot. She’s always been a self insert, but from 2009 - 2011 she was more of a power fantasy. She talked back to teachers and spent tons of money on whatever 9yo me wanted at the time. I remember Flower scolding her that they could only play on the computer for half an hour once a year. 

          When I hit middle school, and thus a new school and new people, she became a shy, almost reclusive character to fit me. I discovered anime when I was 11, so she got tsundere style mood swings. Sun and Cloud were created around that time, I think. Embarrassing real world counterparts later and she, like me, can/could barely function in their presence. A complete 180 to original her. Wow, a look into Heart’s character progression and I see myself devolving into the hermit I am today.

          Obviously Heart (as a concept) is a major part of my person. RustyyHeart with my older usernames being Heart*something*. I probably just exposed more middle school cringe to the internet than I’m preparing for, but whatever. RustyyHeart was a rebrand to get away from the feminine nature of the word “heart” or straight up announcing I was a girl. I’ve since accepted the name Rusty instead, despite 14yo me fretting it sounded like a guy’s name. RustyyHeart was the work of a random name generator and I’ve loved it ever since.

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Flower

          Heart’s twin sister Flower has been about the same the whole time she’s been around. Besides the Titanic sinking, she’s been by Heart’s side almost all the time. I made them have drama here and there, but they’ve always made up somehow. She isn’t particularly based on anyone, but would occasionally mold into whoever was my best friend at the time. I made her because I always felt lonely whenever I couldn’t hang out with my best friends from school. Go a step further, make a twin sister.

          I’m drawing a blank on her character development, to be honest. Flower has just kind of been... there. Generally upbeat and happy and always slightly better at everything than Heart. Pre middle school, she was basically Heart v2 except she did the Dreamworks face way less often. Post middle school, she was the accidental pretty girl and Heart was jealous. She gained a bust sometime after my discovery of anime and I even occasionally made sure to draw that she wore frilly underwear. Can you tell I watched the wrong kind of anime way too young? Flower unintentionally ended up stealing the interests of  Sun and Cloud.

          I’m not proud of her design at the moment, but I like that I kept the pigtails on the sides of her head instead of moving them. It makes her stand out in comparison to Heart. I don’t really know if I’ll leave either’s outfit like this, granted Heart hasn’t changed much since 2012, but I want to fix them into real characters instead of whatever young me threw together. 

          I also noticed that somewhere in a redesign phase, Flower got significantly lighter than Heart. I made this whole post and idea about this specifically. Teenage me actually committed colorism against my own OCs. Heart was redesigned in middle school to be “ugly” to mimic all my crushes turning me down, while Flower was “pretty.” I realized that while drawing the two for the first time yesterday. Heart is overweight, darker skin tone, and painfully shy. Flower is hourglass figure, lighter skin tone, and outgoing. Something’s wrong here. In all my comics and drawings they were identical in tone or it  wasn’t colored at all. I changed the skin tones within the past couple years. Holy internal bias.  

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=D

          You wanna talk forgotten, dumpstered OCs? =D has got you covered. Yes her name is “Equals D” and I hate it too. She’s probably my first exploration into bisexuality TBH and was based on Kari from the Incredibles. She first met Heart and Flower when they went to a spa and she was their... idk servant I guess. She washed their hair because that’s what 9yo me thought happened at spas. I made her a punching bag character, Heart and Flower making fart noises to get on her nerves. Again, comedy genius over here. Imagine the twins’ shock when I made her their permanent live in babysitter, once again taking from her source. So they Home Alone her until she’s like “I find farts funny too!” and the twins were like “:o She’s cool!” Bam! Conflict solved!

          I’m impressed at the fact younger me drew her differently than the other two. She had braces and a ponytail. Ok, I didn’t say it was an original design, it’s more of a fan art situation, but I tried something different. Every girl in my comics had the swirl pigtails besides her. She eventually lost the braces because I got tired of drawing them and they started escaping the boundaries of her mouth every time. I remember in the original comic I drew her smiling for the first time in a good amount of pages and put braces on with a caption “Remember these?” I was the only one reading my own comic YES I remember my own stolen design.

          I think I changed her to older sister in the redesign in middle school. How weird would a permanent, live in ex-spa employee be? She’s the no-nonsense type who frequently injures herself attempting to be a mother figure. Think Nani from Lilo and Stitch being her main source from that point on. Her only appearance in the comic before I stopped writing it was her burning her hand and hitting her head making breakfast. She drives them to school and they never come home~~~ AKA I got started on my self insert fanfiction phase where my OCs got locked away for 2 years. She never got any attention since then and has only changed designs away from Meroko from Full Moon. Showing your stomach was strictly forbidden in my hyper holy Christian household growing up, so having her have her stomach out was a mark of being an older person. Winking Equals D, later renamed Jix, is/was near constantly shirtless as he is a male version of her and I had no guys IRL to base him off of.

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WOW that was a lot. Thank you for getting through it! I’m sorry I rambled so much. It’s 7:13 am and I finished =D at 6:08. I wanted to get all my feelings down so if I ever redo them, I can look at this and see what I thought.  Feel free to leave a suggestion. I want the twins to keep their pigtails and =D to keep a ponytail though, just to keep their origins together. I’ve tried renaming them Scarlett, Flora, and Nina, but the names just don’t stick.