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bountyhaunter · 3 months

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TIMING: Recent PARTIES: Van @vanoincidence & Daiyu @bountyhaunter LOCATION: A Sly Slice SUMMARY: Daiyu is excited to try the pizza burger Emilio recommended. Van doesn't have pizza burgers. High stakes follow. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Daiyu was very confident as she walked into Sly Slice. She had a mission, after all. A local genius had given her the advice of a lifetime, after all. A pizza joint with a secret menu where she could have her burger needs filled. It had become a little running theme over the past years — going to new towns and discovering the local burger shops. A small little ritual for herself. Though Wicked’s Rest had disappointed her so far with the Knuckle burger, she was willing to give it a second chance.

“Hi!,” she said, stepping up to the counter. Daiyu gave a conspiratorial look as she leaned a little closer. “So I know it says everywhere there are four types of pizza, but I’m here for the … menu on the side, you know?” She winked. This was going great. “I want the burger. Do these also come in the four styles? Because if so … I want the pepperoni burger.” She looked over their shoulder, wondering if someone was listening in. “Is there a certain thing I need to do to unlock it?”

After the events that had transpired in the creamatorium, Van had been on edge. She kept imagining that the man would come back, digging his way out of whatever hell he’d been sent to and hurt her for hurting him. Thea had no clue what had happened to him, but in turn, Van had no idea what had happened to her behind that door. Her skin crawled with anxiety, and the bruises beneath her eyes were more evident– sleep was a risk these days.

But still, the grind never stopped, or whatever overworked millennials said. She swore she’d heard Jade say it once, and though she didn’t really identify with the idea of working herself to death, she did have bills to pay. The winters at Sly Slice were slow enough that she could play on her phone most of the day. Her day had only been filled with a few customers so far, so when an additional one came through, she barely lifted her head.

It was only after she heard the word burger, that she lifted her gaze. Was this woman stupid? She looked so sure of herself. Van’s jaw slackened slightly. She was tired, and she was desperate– not even Honkai Star Rail could distract her. She thought for a moment, to be honest with the woman ahead of her, but then she thought better of it.

“You have to hop on one foot and touch your nose, then say burger, burger, how I want a burger.” She wasn’t sure why it was the first thing she thought of. “Sorry, those are Rocky’s rules.” This was so stupid, she thought– who the hell had told this woman she could get a burger at a pizza shop? They didn’t even carry garlic bread.

The woman behind the till seemed a little bored and tired, but Daiyu didn’t think much more of it. She would also be bored and tired if she had to do this kind of job. (She was, admittedly, often bored and tired in general, but neither of those emotions really ever got her to do something productive to combat it.)

She waited for the revelation and then squinted a little at it, her head turning animatedly. Sure. She could hop on one foot and touch her nose and sing a little song — she wanted her pizza burger, after all. She had her heart set on it and Daiyu had never been one to just let go of such things. Somewhere in the back of her mind – always in the back of her mind – someone chastised her for her stubbornness, for her love for stupidly small things that mattered nothing.

But here and now, she grinned and took a step back. “That’s all?” She lifted her left foot, stretching out her leg and started hopping. Her nose was touched with her right hand, index finger pressed against the tip of it, flattening it slightly. “Burger, burger, how I want a burger!”

Letting go of her nose and putting her foot back down, she inched closer to the counter. “Alright, one of the pizza burgers then, please. And do you do drinks? I’ll take a cherry coke if you do.” Daiyu wondered if maybe she’d made a fool out of herself for nothing. The guy online had also said to bring hay, which had felt a little out there — maybe all of it was bullshit. But it was worth it. For the potential pizza burger.

Van half-expected the woman to throw obscenities her way after suggesting that she dance for food, but to her amazement, the customer was backing up and doing the little song and dance that Van had instructed of her. Most people would have told her to fuck off. Now, she realized she would have to deal with the repercussions of lying. She thought about texting Jade, of asking the older woman to hurry over with a burger so that she could slap some melted cheese and pepperoni onto it, but by the time she thought to reach for her phone, she remembered she no longer had one. The old iPad stared up at her menacingly, the top right corner of its screen chipped.

A surge of guilt washed over Van and she clasped her hands together, thumbs worriedly pushing against the opposing one. “I– there is no pizza burger, there never was a pizza burger, and I figured you’d realize that it was stupid to walk into a pizza shop to ask for a burger, and even more stupid to do a dance for your food.” Van blinked at the brunette, wincing as she remembered the topic of cherry coke. “We uh– no, we don’t do that here. The cherry coke, or regular coke. It’s all off brand, there’s a– uh, a lime one. A lime one is good, do you want the time– I mean lime?”

She was in a good mood. These were always precarious things in Daiyu’s case, however, whose spirits tended to change so easily and quickly. Temperamental — that was how her father always described her, always in a negative manner. Her brother had even less nice words about it, chastising her for that short temper (while setting it alight himself). But she was in a good mood. She was down to dance like a jester and be a little silly, especially because it was for a worthy cause.

The key word was, of course, was. Past tense. Because as the person behind the till started anxiously explaining that there was no pizza burger, Daiyu’s face fell, her arms as well, hanging slack by her body. “What the fuck?” She didn’t appreciate being called stupid at all. “I’m stupid? I just — you know, secret menus exist! Someone told me about that — you should have just told me it didn’t exist, who just lets someone dance for nothing, that’s such bullshit.”

That man must have lied to her online. Her cheeks grew red. She felt toyed with, like she was catching up on someone who would always be wiser and quicker and she’d never, ever be able to catch up. This too was something her brother would chastise her about. Daiyu, come on, catch on already, don’t be so daft. “I’m not stupid,” she bristled, her fingers flexing by her side, trying not to form a fist. She was not stupid and she was not temperamental.

Van winced at the apparent change in demeanor. She knew that she shouldn’t have made her dance, but there was such little joy to be had in her life that Van couldn’t resist. The urge to sink beneath the register and crawl her way out through the back was overwhelming, but the thought of having old cheese stuck to her hands kept her upright.

“Um– no, you’re not stupid, I said that asking for a burger at a pizza place was stupid.” She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to gauge what to say next. “I thought it would be funny! I didn’t think you’d actually do it! I thought you were messing with me!” She wasn’t sure who told this person that there was a burger at Sly Slice, but she had a few guesses (none of them correct– Janice didn’t even live here anymore.)

Van’s hands shook slightly as she clasped them together. The woman really was pissed. “Who told you that? Maybe they’re the stupid one.” She cleared her throat, nervously looking past the customer, willing somebody else to come in so that she could avoid this situation altogether. “I’m sorry I tricked you, but um, we still have the lime drink. It’s fizzy, it’s good.”

It was true, the other hadn’t said that Daiyu was stupid but to her it sounded the same. The insinuation was still there and her mind honed in on that, forgetting all other context and repeated the word over and over. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It was the one word that never failed to make her feel small. And when she felt small, she made herself loud.

“Whatever,” she bit, wanting to storm out or throw something. She didn’t want to talk. She didn’t want her mind to chastise itself in loops. She wanted to de-escalate herself but wasn’t sure how, when the TL-lights shone brightly. She glared at the employee, knowing it was a horrid thing to do to go off at someone who was working such an annoying job and yet the anger tingled in her hands. She kept them by her side, half moons pressing in her palms.

“Someone online, yeah, I– fucking know, don’t believe all you read, don’t even say it,” Daiyu said, snapping at comments that hadn’t been made yet. She felt her ears grow red. Was it shame or rage? It didn’t matter: to her, those two feelings had always been synonymous. She shook her hands out, fingers flailing about. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll try it. Sure. Whatever. So your menu is just those four pizzas? And weird drinks? Okay, yeah.” It was what the menu said. Secret menus, now those were stupid. And lying men online, those too.

Van had seen the same expression in customer’s before the one who stood in front of her now. It looked like she was contemplating something– calling the BBB, maybe. Van had endured a lot of those threats, but none ever came into fruition. What would this woman say? That she wanted a burger, danced for a burger, and then wasn’t given one at a pizza shop? How was that Van’s fault? Or Rocky’s? It just wasn’t.

“I believe a lot of things that I read.” That much was true. She had once convinced herself that Pluto was swallowed by Jupiter because she’d read it on a website. That was before she’d gotten into space and had learned that wasn’t possible, not only because of the way space worked, but because they weren’t within relative distance of each other. “I wouldn’t blame you, but I mean… this is a pizza shop.” She chewed the inside of her cheek, eyes glued to the customer’s face. She looked embarrassed, and Van felt a little guilty.

Van twisted around to look up at the menu board, nodding at the customer’s question. “Yeah, um, Rocky doesn’t like things to get super complicated.” She scraped her teeth over her bottom lip before punching into the register. “I can give it to you on the house? For all of your trouble, I mean.” Really, she’d just take it as her lunch since Rocky allowed her three slices a day for free, unless there was a lot left at the end of the day. That was a new thing. Maybe he saw that she was growing distant from her job.

“The lime is the best, or the cherry one, I swear.”

While one part of her brain was trying to count to ten, another was already mentally writing all the snide comments it would throw at the person who’d lied to her online. That was a crime one wasn’t supposed to just get away with — to get someone all excited about a pizza burger that didn’t even exist. Imagining taking the online stranger down with vicious words helped with her anger at the employee. Daiyu figured it a great way of de-escalation.

“Yeah, me too. You’d think you’d learn but I guess not!” She laughed, but it sounded like a painful noise rather than one of amusement. Daiyu wanted to fall through the earth. She wanted to be able to punch someone through a screen so she could punch the online liar. “I thought maybe there would be a pizza burger. You know? That’s what he said. I thought that was fucking brilliant. Pepperoni burger… man.” She shook her head. “Gonna have to create it myself now.” She’d burn the beef patty.

She had no clue who Rocky was but didn’t want to ask, as she felt stupid enough as it was. “No,” she said in stead, clear-cut and almost angry again, “I can buy my own food. Just … give me both the lime and the cherry. And then a slice of sausage and two pepperoni.” Daiyu sighed. She wanted to rest her head on the counter and groan for three hours and then kick the bin. She started counting again. “Pizza is good. Pizza is just as good as burgers.” She was trying to convince herself of something she knew to be a lie.

“Um, I don’t.. know, I don’t ever learn anything.” Not necessarily untrue, especially because Van always seemed to make the same mistakes, no matter the number of times it was clear she should stop. She clasped her hands together, listening to the customer as she explained further. All Van could do was nod. “Yeah, no, that– that doesn’t exist here. You were lied to, and like, that is so not my fault! And you’re so not stupid for believing it. I think I would, too, if someone told me that.” A pizza burger sounded interesting. Maybe she could convince Jade to help her make one, one day.

Surprisingly enough, this woman didn’t want free pizza. Nobody ever said no to free pizza, especially if they felt like they’d been sleighted. Maybe this woman wasn’t a Karen.

“Uh– lime, cherry, both coming up.” She nodded, grabbing the biggest two cups from their holders, filling them up at the dispenser behind her. There was another one towards the tables, but she figured asking the customer to do anything herself might result in… less than desirable results, especially considering how frustrated she seemed.

After she got the drinks, Van moved onto boxing the slices of pizza before depositing them into a bag. “I… hope you enjoy you not-pizza bur– I mean, your pizza.” She swallowed thickly before sliding the items across the counter. “I’m sorry about the burger. Please don’t give us a negative review, that wasn’t our fault. If you do, um– say my name was Janice, okay?” Even if Janice didn’t work here anymore, Van would still find a way to slander her.

“Haha, me neither,” she said, and it was still said with a laugh even if admitting such a deep truth made Daiyu uncomfortable. She never learned. When was she going to get it through her head? She never learned. It was like there was something blocking actual critical thoughts from entering her brain, that had to be it. Her father’s voice mixed with her own inner one as she chastised herself. She needed to leave. “Maybe I’ll just invent the pepperoni burger myself then and become a billionaire. It’s my idea, okay? Don’t get any ideas.” She didn’t sound half as threatening as she’d like. She was small.

Daiyu watched the employee feel the cups, the sound of the soda clattering in them echoing roughly in her ears. She had half a mind to grab her earplugs or headphones and slam them on, her heightened senses seeming to go in overdrive whenever her anger had left and was replaced with this dull annoyance at everything.

She took the bag with a bit more force than was necessary. “Thanks.” That was stupid. She wasn’t supposed to say thanks. There was another burst of beration flooding her brain. Daiyu offered a smile, but it was crooked, and she gave a glance at the name tag on the employee’s uniform. Not Janice. “Sure. If I write a review, I’ll tear Janice a new one.” She wouldn’t. She might write a review that said there were no pizza burgers, though, so no one else would be lied to. And so that not-Janice wouldn’t have to deal with this shit again, either. She slipped some bills from her wallet, figured it added up to enough (it was more than needed, as she’d later realize) and held up her hand still holding her wallet. “Um. Have a nice day.” And with that she was off, cheeks still burning with anger and somehow worse to her: shame.

#van.#welcome to pizza burger.#threads.

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nightmaretist · 10 months

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BARK BARK BARK // Van & Inge

PARTIES: Van @vanoincidence & Inge LOCATION: A park. TIMING: 15 june. CONTENT WARNINGS: None. SUMMARY: A dog didn't like Inge's mare-ish vibes and chased her into a tree. Van bares witness and tries to help a little, but she's pretty exhausted and mostly amused.

The string of curses that left Inge’s mouth was a combination of English and Dutch and somehow some third language, too. It was hardly like she was occupied with the linguistic nature of her cursing, though, as she was at present being chased by a massive dog. The creature seemed to have gone rabid from its unease and saw it fit to yank free from its owner and start sprinting, flashing its shiny teeth.

Now, it wasn’t like she was afraid. Ingeborg Endeman created fear, invented trauma and terrified for a living, so she did not get scared. She was just worried about the very real threat of this dog burrowing its teeth in her leg and revealing a lack of red blood, as well as its teeth ruining her delicate decades-old skirt. She didn’t mind a scene, but she would mind one like that. And so she ran, heeled leather boots hitting the ground.

It would be perfect if a storefront appeared on either side, but the park offered little places of shelter. There was nowhere to go but up. So up Inge went, clambering into a tree with haste, watching as the dog jumped up and down, trying to nip at her feet. When her eyes fell on a passerby she yelled: “Hey, you! Help!” She was not afraid, please remember that.

Van stuck the straw from her drink into her mouth, jabbing down at the leftover tapioca pearls at the bottom. They were a little too squishy to go through the straw now, so it was a stab and jab kind of deal. Once she’d gotten one, she let go of the straw from her mouth and pulled it out through the small hole she’d poked through the plastic, biting off the pearl. She wasn’t normally a taro kind of girl, and it never tasted right, but she’d been in the mood for something purple to match her outfit. Except she’d sucked down the entire drink within ten minutes and now she was at the beginning of a tummy ache. “Should have gotten it with soy.” She frowned as she found a trashcan to throw the near empty cup into.

The sound of a dog barking made her look up, exhaustion evident beneath her eyes. The dog was chasing somebody and that… somebody was climbing up a tree. Suddenly, Van was amused. It was like something straight out of a cartoon. Maybe if she’d been a little less tired, she would have been more concerned.

The woman began to shout, and with Van being the only one in the vicinity, she assumed that it was she who was being beckoned. “Me?” She pointed at herself with her index finger, then looked at the dog, its front paws scratching into the tree trunk while its jaws snapped wildly, spit flying from its jowls. “What did you do to him?” Because he wasn’t reacting to her, which meant that the brunette in the tree had done something. “Did you pretend to give him a treat and take it away? Is it your dog?”

Give it a few days, perhaps even one of them, and Inge would laugh at this. It would be a moment to look back at fondly, to potentially recount when she met someone new and wanted to exchange exciting anecdotes. In the moment, however, she was nothing if not agitated. She was too unfocused and frazzled and in public to elevate her spirit and body into the astral plane and this entire ordeal was bound to become the source of at least some public ridicule. She really hoped no teenager was filming this. Or worse, a student.

The dog kept snapping and barking, tireless in its stupid rage and ferocity. If she wasn’t so annoyed, she’d pay a little more attention and focus on the details of that jaw snapping, the spit flying. Instead, it was just the young woman she was trying to get her to help that she focused on.

“I did nothing!” The words were exclaimed, her voice an octave higher than she had intended for it to be. “Not my dog either. Its owner has to be fucking somewhere, but it just must’ve whiffed something and —” Inge’s hands pointed wildly at the dog before grabbing the branch she was sitting on again, making sure not to lose her balance. Now that would be even worse. “Can you, I don’t know, throw a stick? Find its owner?”

The woman’s voice was shrill, full of desperation for somebody to believe her. Van had been there before many times. Only, not in public. She looked at the dog as it continued snapping its jaws, tail low to the ground, ears peeled back. Whatever it saw in the woman, it didn’t like it. At the woman’s suggestion she do something, Van sighed. “Yeah, sure.” She looked over her shoulder, tired gaze sweeping the green behind them, but there was nobody looking slightly upset that their dog was up a tree. Instead, all either she or the other woman gained were stares.

“I don’t think they’re owner is here and like, I don’t… want to get bit.” Van tried her best to get the dog’s attention by clapping her hands together, but it did nothing. She had some of her slim jim left, the plastic folded over itself to keep it from getting fuzz from her backpack on it. “Hold on.” She dug it out and unwrapped it. “Dude, I hope you’re not on a diet.” She waved the meat stick around, but the dog didn’t even look in her direction. Van looked up at the woman in the tree with a helpless expression. “Any other ideas? You a cat person or something?” If she weren’t so tired, maybe she’d take the situation more seriously. Anxiety, for once, was on the backburner.

She really wasn’t afraid. Of course, it was easy to claim such a thing when you lacked the flow of blood of mortals and your heart didn’t tend to start pumping excitedly. When you had seen terror in its purest form and caused it. Inge refused to be afraid, even if her voice jumped higher and there was an edge of panic to it. No, this was nothing but pure frustration. Her own gaze drifted over their surroundings, trying to find whatever idiot owned a dog this aggressive, but finding nothing.

“Their owner is a shit, then.” It was fair enough that the other didn’t want to get bit, but Ingeborg found she couldn’t care as much as she perhaps ought to. Her eyes were hopeful when the other waved a meat-stick around, but the dog didn’t budge. Inge steadied herself on the branch she was perched on, breaking off a stick and tossing it down. Hitting the dog on the face did nothing if not infuriate it more. “Yes, sure, I’m a cat-person, but that doesn’t warrant this kind of response, does it?” She was a plant-person, actually, but this could already look suspicious enough for someone in the know of mares. She let out a bark of laughter, ironically. “Fuck! I mean, that’s hardly on you, sorry. But can you believe this?”

Van made sure to keep her distance from the dog, just in case it decided to turn and chase her instead. She really wasn’t sure what had happened to make the dog so upset in the first place, but she wasn’t sure that she believed the woman in the tree had done nothing to elicit this kind of response from it.

As the woman broke off a stick from the tree, Van winced, watching it fall down to the ground, but not before smacking the poor animal in the face. Honestly, it probably didn’t hurt very much at all, but she couldn’t help but understand the dog’s rage a little better. The woman spoke again and Van lifted her gaze up to meet the brunette. “Maybe it can sense that you don’t like dogs. Dogs are like, weirdly in tune with that kind of shit.” With a sigh, she looked over her shoulder, scanning for anybody who might be upset that their dog was off leash and barking at some random woman. Still, nobody came into view. “I’m not sure what I believe anymore.” There was some truth to her words, but they weren’t meant for this situation. “I mean..” Van cleared her throat, pausing only momentarily, “do you have any snacks in your pockets? Maybe it wants those.”

Maybe this was her own fault, for having called out to the stranger. But what was a panicked mare to do? She could have tried to remain calm and wait for the area to clear so she could go into the astral plane and back home, but in stead here she was. Attention on her. The dog still fucking barking. Inge was starting to get a headache.

“Yes, maybe that’s it,” she said, knowing full well that that was it. Sanne had explained it to her, all those years ago: animals don’t like us, they think there’s something wrong with us. It had been a nightmare to walk around her hometown, with all the cattle and other animals. Inge patted down her jacket, which did have multiple pockets of which she didn’t always remember the content. “Just chocolates, don’t think I should poison the thing, right?” No, she had little interest in that. Despite her tendency to scare the bejeezus out of people who others might consider innocents, she had little interest in harming animals. Hell, she didn’t even eat them. Just as she was about to open her mouth, a stout man ran in their direction, a leash swinging in the air, apologies falling off his tongue.

“Sorry, sorry, don’t know what got into her, this never happens!” He did look genuinely apologetic. Inge didn’t care. If he couldn’t handle a big dog, he shouldn’t have gotten one. The dog’s head turned at the sound of his voice, though, and that, at least, was something good. “Come here, girl, come to dad.” It took all her might not to gag at that.

“No, I don’t think so.” Van’s frown deepened as she craned her neck to get a better look at the woman in the tree. It didn’t seem like she was carrying any bundles of salami, either. She’d seen it in a cartoon once. Van was silently grateful that it hadn’t been her up in the tree. What would she have done? Would anyone have stopped?

Just as Van was about to suggest that the woman get out of the tree to try and pet the dog to show it that she was kind, a man jogged up to them. Van turned around to look at him, his expression melding from fearful to relieved. The dog turned around at the sound of his voice and let out a high pitched whine before returning its attention to the brunette in the tree. The barking had stopped, at least.

“Can you get your dog? She’s stuck.” Van’s voice came out a little more monotone than intended. The exhaustion really was catching up to her. The man nodded, desperate in his movements as he approached the dog, picking her up without issue. If Van had tried that, she had no doubt that she’d have gotten bit. The man apologized again before he began to coo to the dog who was wiggling in his arms.

At least the man was strong enough to carry his stupidly big dog himself. Inge watched him from where she sat in the tree, eyes near-blazing with indignation now that her panic was subsiding. “You should really get a stronger leash, or one with a stronger grip, you know! This is outrageous. Look at me!” She gestured at her position in the three. It was his fault, really, and not hers. How could she help it that her nature upset animals?

“I really am sorry, you’re right — but please understand, it’s never happened before, I’m telling you, I have no idea — well, I’ll just get out of your hair and get her out of here, alright? So sorry.”

She watched him try and traipse off, the dog struggling in his arms but at least on his leash again, now. Inge stared at his back, hard, but eventually tried to let go of her frustration and focus on getting out of the tree. At least her limbs were still as nimble as they had been when she was thirty three, because if she’d had to do this in an actual 77 year old’s body, she would have been majorly fucked. Still, there was a lack of some grace as she jumped from the last bit of the tree.

“Well.” She looked at the other. “I appreciate you not laughing at me.” She really did, though she did think that in a few months - or perhaps years - she would be laughing about this herself. “I really thought it would never leave me alone and I’d just have to sleep there.” Inge wanted to get away from this horridly embarrassing scene. She tried to pat her hair, wondered if there was a stick in there. “Right.”

Van couldn’t blame the woman in the tree for talking sternly to the man with the wiggling dog. Even as he walked away with it, it still barked and let out high pitched whines that made her ears hurt.

She watched with mild amusement as the brunette slid out of the tree, half-expecting her to scrape her backside on a rogue branch. She didn’t, however, and her feet were firmly planted on the ground. Van watched her for a moment before shrugging. “It would have been funnier if the dog had been smaller.” With a raised brow, Van tilted her head to the side. “You would have actually slept up there? Really?” She looked back up at the tree and shook her head. “At that point, let the dog bite you. Think about the bugs that could have gotten you instead.” She scrunched her nose.

Van took a small step away from the woman and shoved the beef stick into her pocket (something she’d started doing in an attempt to mirror Nora), and let out a small breath. “I’m just glad it didn’t turn on me. Then we’d both be stuck up there.”

Inge tried to look at her backside, trying to gauge if there was any green stuck to her trousers but unable to get very far. She still tried beating some off the dirt off regardless, having given up on trying to seem like a graceful person. Tomorrow she’d try again.

“I wouldn’t have had to climb as high if it was a smaller dog, too. But its barks would’ve been much more grating, so.” She let out a sound of amusement and frustration, somehow conveying both emotions into one. “God, maybe I would have. I’d prefer some bugs over potential rabies.” Besides, there wasn’t really any blood for mosquitos to suck from her veins anyway. What she left unsaid was that she’d just have astral projected herself home.

“Either way, nice of you to stick around and not let me sort-of-fight this battle alone. And fair enough, I wouldn’t wish being stuck in a tree as a dog barks up to it to my worst enemy.” She absolutely would. “Anyway. I’m running late to my appointment as is, so I really should go. Have a nice day without any other feral dogs, will you?”

#threads.#bark bark bark.#van.#im obsessed w ci i love them sm

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razorsharpteeth · 7 months

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Kitchen Meltdown / Van & Samir

TIMING: Recent PARTIES: Van @vanoincidence and Samir @razorsharpteeth LOCATION: WR Community center SUMMARY: Van and Samir hang out after a cooking class he taught, which soon turns on its head as Van grows anxious and accidents occur. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

The cooking classes were his favorite. Samir was a simple man: he liked doing things he was good at. He liked sharing the knowledge of things he was good at. During the cooking classes, he’d share a few funny stories from back in the day, when he’d cooked for the tourists in Florida. Of working in a real restaurant’s kitchen, and how mistakes were not as permitted there as they were in his class.

Most of the people that came were the same old. This, he didn’t mind. It was a steady beat. They oohed and aahed at his knife technique and asked him questions for at-home cooking. Now, with the class done, there were a few stragglers, like mrs Selic who was wondering what she was supposed to do about her daughter’s girlfriend ‘who was a vegetarian, and it’s all so much to get used to’. Samir patiently pointed her to some recipe sites, as well as the beyond meat stuff in the grocery aisle and watched her go on her merry way.

Now came the cleaning. Samir also didn’t mind this: it was different from cleaning his own mess. It was something more satisfying. He was about to start piling all the cutlery into one pot when his eyes fell on one of the people from the class. A tiny thing, which explained why he’d missed her. Or maybe it was just the full moon around the corner. “Hey,” he said. “Van … right? Not like the car? Can I help you with something?”

Van wasn’t sure what she was thinking, taking a cooking class. Of all places she shouldn’t have been, a public kitchen was definitely one of them. Her nerves were hard to shake, even after the class had concluded. She had tried her best to listen to Samir’s stories, had tried to get lost in them, even. But the thought of somewhere else only brought her back to the reality of her situation.

Even if she was in community here, at a literal community center, she still felt alone. Her thoughts broke as Samir approached. Her gaze snapped up to meet his and she opened her mouth to respond, to give him thanks, or maybe something else– to say that she was glad she came today, but it was locked beneath her tongue.

“Not like the car, yeah.” At least he had remembered. Van wasn’t sure where that came from these days, it was just something she reminded people. “Um…” She looked around her station. She had tried to tidy it as much as possible. The empty plate of what they made sat with the fork and knife hanging over each other in some dangerous balancing act. “It was good. The class was good.” That was right, right?

The community center was a saving grace. Samir had always felt this incessant need to be useful, to have at least some kind of purpose. It was something born out of trauma, but he lacked the insight to understand that — and so he just moved through the world like this. Searching for small purposes. Volunteering to help his colleague move. Working in a kitchen, where he could make people happy with the food. Fulfilling tasks here, in this community center.

It was a balancing of scales. He didn’t delude himself into thinking he was a good man: he was just a man, who was also a monster. A trail of blood had followed him to Maine. No matter how many old people he helped or how many cooking classes he taught, there’d always be those ghosts. He would never be good — but he could at least try to put some good into the world.

So he smiled at the semi-stranger. “You can leave it as is, it’s fine. I’ll clean everything. Don’t mind.” With the full moon looming and the Pit promoting his oncoming fights more than usual, he liked the menial tasks as distraction. Samir shrugged. “Thanks. I try to keep ‘em exciting. Cooking’s an important skill, you know? If you have any requests on what you’d like to learn to cook for a future class, just let me know.”

“Are you sure?” Van had been taught to clean up after herself, and even if that lesson had gone over her head in recent years with her grandma’s departure back to New York, that didn’t mean she left other places a mess. Unless it was Sly Slice, but only when Janice was working there. Now, she had no excuse but to clean up after herself.

He seemed sure, but she still felt bad. She looked around him, gaze sliding over the different components of the kitchenette. She hadn’t realized it existed until a few weeks ago, too lost in her own head to really venture out into the unknown. Van bit the inside of her cheek and nodded at his comment. “You sound like my–” My what, she thought. She didn’t have anything, and nothing had her. All she had was herself, and maybe her friends, but she was slowly turning them away as the days went by.

“Friend. Who likes to cook.” Van scrunched her nose before sticking her hands into the pockets of her too-baggy jeans. “Do you always teach them? Or do you like, take volunteers?”

“Sure. Unless you’re a superfan of cleaning, don’t wanna keep you from your hobby and all.” He said it as if it was an outlandish thing, as liking to clean was a rare characteristic. Samir wasn’t going to forbid her from helping out, though. He didn’t have the energy to do so. He even mustered a little smile.

He smiled a little further at the rest of her words, “It’s good to have friends who know how to cook. Nothing like sharing a meal, huh?” He said those words and he meant them, but they were removed from him and his current reality. Samir didn’t cook for people any more, especially not friends. Sometimes he did some mise en place at local restaurants that were short staffed, but that hardly counted. There seemed little room for him to speak his love languages.

“Sometimes it’s me. There’s another woman, too, she’s brilliant. Monica.” Cursed with a shitty name, though. “Why, do you want to be the teacher? Or …” Samir frowned a little. “Was it not to your liking?”

“A superfan…?” She blinked before shaking her head. “No, I’m not, I just–” Van thought for a moment, brows furrowed, “wanted to help out.” She made a mess of pretty much everything in her own house– outside, things were clean. Outside, she could pretend to take care of herself.

At his comment, she nodded. If she hadn't lied, she’d be able to hold onto it. Van had lost her community the day her grandmother left Wicked’s Rest. The ladies who played mahjong, the man who would give her discounted fruits at the grocery… they looked at her now as if they’d never known her at all. She wondered what kinds of things her grandma had said on her exit.

“Oh, that’s cool.” She didn’t know anyone named Monica. At his question, she shook her head. “What? No. No, I don’t–” Van cleared her throat, “I was just– small talk. That’s what people call it, right?” She’d made it tons of times, knew it like the back of her hand. The things she could avoid with small talk, to keep things busy. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t want to–” Van shook her head and rubbed her hands together. “It was cool, I swear, I just… I was wondering is all.” She wasn’t sure why this out of everything had catapulted her into the throws of anxiety, but it had.

“Ah,” he said. That made more sense. “I mean, you’re welcome to. Really. Just don’t feel obligated to!” Samir wasn’t really sure if he was helping or worsening the situation, or if he was imagining a problem. He just didn’t want the younger woman to feel like she had to.

Now he had said the wrong thing. He watched Van stumble over her words and felt his stomach sink — he’d felt so good about the lesson, about giving people some properly helpful tips when it came to cooking. For a moment, he’d felt like a tolerable person, rather than whatever he made of himself when his thoughts were dark and stormy. And here he was, anyway, making a mess of things.

“Shit, no, you didn’t offend me. I was just wondering, just wanted to be sure it was all good, you know.” He tried to keep his face clear and calm, tried to think of managing his younger siblings or even the rascals that came in here. “Just small talk. It’s fair to wonder. You’re okay, I’m glad you liked it.”

She was regretting leaving her house now. Van cleared her throat, feeling the tips of her fingers beginning to grow clammy with the unprovoked anxiety that swarmed her. She wasn’t sure why this situation had triggered her. She could feel his gaze under her skin, could pick out all of the things she was saying wrong, the way he almost seemed confused.

But he was explaining that she hadn’t offended him, but it didn’t make sense, because he had said it in his own words, was it not to your liking? “All good, yeah.” Her throat felt dry. She should go home. Yeah, she should definitely–

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the instructor’s boots had begun to melt to the floor. There was no heat signature, and there was no smell– it was just goop. Shit, shit, shit. Van looked up at Samir– that was his name, desperately. “I– I didn’t do that.” But she had, and she knew she had.

He’d done or said something wrong. That happened often, as Samir wasn’t the best communicator. He tried to be patient and open, to think along with the people he spoke to and offer them grace. But he was clumsy and tired and sometimes simply an asshole, but this time he’d really tried. And yet.

He felt frustrated with himself as he looked at the young woman, but then his attention was diverted by a strange sensation at his feet. Looking down, the cause of that feeling was very clear: there his shoes went, growing liquid around his socks. “Uh.”

That there was more out there besides werewolves had grown abundantly and horribly clear to him the months since he’d become employed by the Grit Pit. But he hadn’t seen this before. He looked back to Van. “It doesn’t — It’s not hurting?” He didn’t know science very well, but shouldn’t this hurt? What else could make leather act that way. He raised a leg and his shoe dripped from his feet, all sticky and gooey. “What the fuck?”

It’s not hurting?

That was good, at least. Van wasn’t sure what it felt like, mostly because her abilities typically tapped into melting actual objects, never any living creature. She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it shut almost immediately. She wasn’t sure what to do. She was only here for a stupid cooking class.

Van glanced down to his boot, watching as the plastic and rubber became some kind of goopy mixture, dripping back down onto the linoleum. Her gaze cut back up to meet his, eyebrows pinched together as apologies began to build themselves up at the back of her throat.

“I– it doesn’t hurt.” It wasn’t happening to her, so clearly he’d put two and two together, right? “That’s good.” The words left her before she could stop them and she was already taking a step back, stumbling towards the closest exit. “I didn’t– I didn’t mean to do it, I didn’t do that.” She had already practically admitted it was her. “I’m sorry!” Van gasped out as she turned, running away from another mess she’d created.

The plan had been to clean up behind him and then make his way home, take out Cleo for a long, long walk on the beach and think of nothing but the crashing waves. But as he stared at his boots, the way they were growing sticky and fluid around his socks, he had a feeling it would not be that easy. Samir blinked back up at Van.

“It’s not …” Good? Your fault? A problem? He was dumbfounded, not sure how to answer this, what to say to her suddenly insisting that she didn’t mean to, implying that she had done it. Somehow. Though Samir knew there was magic in the world, he didn’t understand it, and would never claim to.

“Hey, no – wait!” His voice echoed after her, and Samir attempted to run after her — wanting maybe an explanation, or at least a solution. Or to tell her it was okay, but that she couldn’t just run off! (Even if that was what he had done, every time his inner wolf had covered himself in blood once more and killed more than just an animal.) As he tried to lift his feet to chase her though, he found himself slowed by the melted boots and did something he’d prefer not to admit.

He tripped, falling on the kitchen floor and looking at Van’s disappearing feet, somehow feeling like this too was his fault.

#van.#threads.#kitchen meltdown.#love u sm ci

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mcntsee · 13 days

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The real barbie is Y/n.

Y/n’s a doctor, a cop, a scientist, an agent, vet, hero, villain, astronaut, lawyer, spy, criminal, artist, chef, engineer, psychologist, architect, journalist, firefighter, event planner, mechanic, photographer, musician, actor, interior designer, bartender, fashion designer, barista, florist, forensic scientist, flight attendant, profiler, tour guide, translator, etc.

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hell0mega · 4 months

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people are drawing Steamboat Willie Mickey doing all this crazy shit and whatnot, but you could always do that. you can do that now, with current Mickey, just fine. it's fanart and it's legally protected. hell you could take Disney-drawn Mickey and put a caption about unions or whatever on it and it would still be protected under free speech and sometimes even parody law.

what is special about public domain is that you can SELL him. you could take a screenshot and sell it on a tshirt. you can use him to advertise your plumbing business. people have already uploaded and monetized the original film.

you could always have Mickey say what you want, but now you can profit off it.

#steamboat willie #Mickey mouse #Disney #public domain #you can't trademark him as like a logo or mascot of your plumbing business i just mean like #you can slap him in your commercial or side of the van #i just have seen soooo many people make ORIGINAL art of him and I'm like #no that's not the point!! you can already do that!!!#(obvs if it's a comic or something talking about him being free or whatever then yeah like i get it)#(but those people who put him as a fighter in their game?? Quinton reviews uploading the original video?? boss shit)#(THAT'S what it's about)

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adorablecrab · 3 months

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Reading a book on sea monsters on ancient maps and I thought this was such a funny way to put it. They couldn’t even afford sea monsters :///

#blabla #the book is sea monsters on medieval and renaissance maps by chet van duzer

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lovesickbugs · 9 months

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girls r like "but he's my comfort character" and then it's literally the most emotionally traumatized man you have ever seen ever

#kaz brekker #nico di angelo #will herondale #bucky barnes #julian blackthorn #wylan van eck #wei wuxian #percy jackson #kit herondale #xie lian #edward elric #kurapika #sirius black

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 5 months

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i will never understand why more people in their 80s don't commit felonies. you reach that age and surely there's something illegal you always wanted to do but didn't bc Consequences

dammit, GO FORTH GRANNIES!!! rob an armored car! hold up that bank! tunnel your way into fort knox! what are they gonna do, sentence you to 20 years? good fuckin luck with that

#mine would be a coordinated museum heist utilizing the lifetimes of experience and diverse expertise of my fellow nursing home residents #also there's Karl the orderly. his skill is he drives the shuttle van #technically he shouldn't be enabling us but he thinks it's a good enrichment activity #heck debra hasn't been this excited since her son flew in from australia.#plus Karl figures formulating an elaborate heist is better brain exercise than the puzzle books they keep in the resident lounge #all the sudokus are half finished anyway #update: upon consideration my second choice is just. MASSIVE credit card fraud.

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jacobvanloon · 7 months

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The Rip XXIII Watercolor on paper, 6x7.5" 2023

#jacob van loon #artists on tumblr #art #watercolor #painting #landscape #the rip

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ohwynne · 4 months

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The C-word / Van & Wynne

TIMING: Mid November PARTIES: Van @vanoincidence & Wynne @ohwynne LOCATION: Dr Kavanagh's appointment SUMMARY: Wynne tries to visit Dr Kavanagh, but finds Van there in stead. The two have a conversation that soon turns more serious. It ends with a PB&J. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

It was a shot in the dark, but Wynne thought it a better bet than showing up at the doctor’s place of work again. They needed to talk to Dr Kavanagh though, didn’t they? To explain what had occurred, or to at least make sure that she didn’t hate them. Their mind kept flashing to the memory of her helping out Lil but remaining otherwise silent, unaware of what had occurred at altar.

So here they were, fidgeting outside of the front door of an address Dr Kavanagh had given them. Fretting, as they often did. They were afraid, somehow, that the woman would step to the authorities about what had occurred, even if she didn’t exactly know about the death that had occurred. She did know that they’d stolen a sheep, after all. Above all else, Wynne just wanted to look the other in the eye again, to know where they stood.

They knocked on the door eventually, holding their breath as they heard some noise behind the wood of it. When the door swung open they were ready to start talking, mouth opening, “Doct–” They fell quiet. That was decidedly not Dr Kavanagh. “Van?” Wynne looked at the house number. “Do you … why are you here?”

–

Van had been lucky that Dr. Kavanagh had let her stay at her apartment, and maybe a part of her knew that she should have gone somewhere else, but the idea of taking up space at Erin’s made her uncomfortable, even with the offer. With Dr. Kavanagh, there was some level of separation. Erin cared, and really, Van couldn’t tell if Dr. Kavanagh did, or if she just really wanted the dead worms or bones.

It was a really strange request, regardless, but it was easier than admitting she needed to help to somebody she’d known pretty much her whole life. Van had been watching a show on her phone when the sound of somebody knocking on the door sent her into a panic. She knew that Dr. Kavanagh’s brother might be coming by, but she had anticipated some kind of warning from her about that, not a surprise drop in.

Only, when she looked through the window it wasn’t a version of Dr. Kavanagh’s brother she had dreamt up by only knowing the doctor herself, but Wynne?

As she pulled the door open, prepared to ask what they were doing there, Wynne was asking the same thing. Right. It was weird that she was here, not the other way around. Van jostled the doorknob a moment before answering. “Um– my house, it’s covered in goo, so Dr. Kavanagh is letting me stay here.” That was the honest answer, so why did she feel so nervous about it? “Did you– did you need her for something? You know she doesn’t… actually live here, right?” That was still weird, too, but weren’t doctors rich? That made sense, at least– that the woman might have several pieces of property.

—

It was a little baffling, to see Van in the door opening. Wynne had expected no answer to their knock, and if there were to be an answer, for it to be the banshee to open. And though Van was a welcome sight – as she always was – it took a little time for their brain to catch up with what they were faced with. Then, they realized that Van also knew the doctor and that Dr Kavanagh had let her stay in her house, which was a very kind thing to do.

As they began to comprehend the situation, they tried to shift their mind. The mortician wasn’t here, and so there would be no conversation with attempts at explanation. They didn’t know what to do now, with all those words they’d saved up, the sentences they’d prepared for this. Wynne tried to swallow them, then shook their head at Van’s question.

“I thought maybe she did. I don’t really know where she lives, but she gave me this address and I also didn’t want to bother her at work …” What if she turned them in to the authorities? What if she wanted to see Levi’s body?

They shuffled a little. “But it’s really nice to see you! How are you doing Van? I’m glad that you have a good place to stay. I didn’t know you knew Dr Kavanagh as well. She’s pretty …” Wynne wondered what would be a good adjective to use. “Smart?” That was true. “And helpful.”

—

Wynne looked a little disappointed that it wasn’t Dr. Kavanagh who had opened the door, and while Van couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty about that fact. It wasn’t her fault and she knew it, but still. She picked at some of the chipped paint from the door frame, only realizing that she was making it worse rather than better. She dropped her hand from its place, hand now stuffed into the pocket of her cargo pants.

“Oh…” That made sense, she guessed. Van opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again after a moment. She wasn’t sure what to say. Was she supposed to apologize?

Their attitude shifted slightly and Van was grateful that she hadn’t ruined Wynne’s trip after all. “Oh, I’m– you know, I’m…” She shrugged, “my house is probably like, lost to the goo, but I’m… good.” Van let out a soft laugh, the kind that gets caught in the center of the chest. “Yeah, um, she took me.. to the zoo.” That was a little weird to say considering she was an adult. “We went to the zoo together, I mean. I saw a tiger.” That was silly. She bit the inside of her cheek before stepping to the side. “You can um, you can come inside? My friend isn’t– she’s also staying here, but she’s not.. she’s at work right now.”

—

There was a sense of awkwardness in the air and Wynne tried not to get upset by it, to simply let it be because otherwise the two of them might both spiral. That was easier than done, though, especially with their nerves as frayed as they were. Ever since the ritual they had felt on edge. Combine that with what had happened to Cass and the continued rain of disaster that surrounded them all, and they were left unsure if there even was such a thing as acting normally.

“I’m really sorry about your house. Maybe when the goo is gone —” When, not if. They had already done the impossible, so this too should be doable. “— we can go and see what is salvageable? Did you lose a lot of stuff? You can lend things from me.” They frowned a little, wondering if Van really was good. “I hope that you’re good.” That’s the best they could muster.

The zoo! Wynne looked a little surprised at that revelation, but it was a nice kind of surprise. “That sounds like it was fun. How do you know her?” They considered the offer and then nodded. “I’d really like that. We could just hang out for a bit. Who are you staying here with, do I know them?”

—

“Oh, yeah, maybe.” Van was upset that her house might be gone, if not for the sake of memories, than the sake of living somewhere that was her own and not having to rely on the kindness of others to simply get by. But on the other hand, the memories that swallowed her whole with every move– she didn’t enjoy those moments, and it was sort of nice not to be constantly reminded of your ghosts, or so she thought. “I just… sort of want my computer, honestly.” That was the only thing she really wanted to get out of there, but where would she even take it? She couldn’t stay at Dr. Kavanagh’s apartment forever.

“Um, she helped me with the whole hay thing.” That seemed like a lifetime ago, all things considered. It was a strange thing, existing on the peripherals of what happened only months ago. She now had magic, and her eyes were opened to things like bugbears. “I’m not really sure what happened, but she introduced me to a horse and then I no longer wanted hay.” Van shrugged, not sure how else to explain it. When Wynne asked who else was staying at Dr. Kavanagh’s, Van tried to remember if Thea had ever gone to any of the parties that Wynne attended, but it was possible that they knew each other outside of all that. “Um, her name is Thea? She’s like, really cool and nice. This tall.” She raised her hand well above her own head with a smile. “I”m not sure if you know her or not? I’m not sure when she’ll be home.” Van looked down at her phone to see if Thea had texted her, but there was no notification.

—

Wynne didn’t have a computer to share with Van, so they felt a little lost in regards of what to do. At least they were in this boat together, they figured — what with them both having lost their place to the goo. “We could go to the library sometime to use their computers together, if you want? Were there a lot of things on your computer?” They still struggled with computers, in all honesty. Wynne understood their phone most of the time, but getting the hang of computers (which just seemed like big phones) was a slow process.

They scrunched their brows together, thinking back to the time with the hay. That was a strange situation, but everything seemed strange. “Oh. That sounds weird, but I am glad it worked and that she was able to help. I met her when she found some roadkill. A really beautiful rabbit.” Wynne didn’t think it was necessary to go into all the other things they’d done since, especially that time Regan had broken their mirror by screaming. “I know a Thea, yes! She hit me with her bike one time, and we kind of became friends after. It would be nice to see her again.” It really would be. Wynne had grown up with a lot of people around them, so any additions to their circle of familiar people was a welcome thing. “It’s nice right, having roommates?” They fiddled a little, wondering what to speak about besides that. “Do you have any theories on the goo?”

—

“I don’t think that the library’s computers can run Honkai Rail.” It occurred to Van at that moment that Wynne probably had no idea what the hell she was talking about. Did that really matter? “But um, that’s a really good idea.” She didn’t want to completely disregard the offer, especially because Wynne was trying. However, when it came to electronics, Van was known to be fairly snobby and stubborn. “I had a few game saves, but it’s not like, the end of the world. I think the files should hopefully be written into my Steam profile, not just my system.” She hoped that was how it worked. It seemed like some games carried overs and others didn’t. There wasn’t any real consistency. She didn’t know a ton about Wynne, but she did know that electronics weren’t really their forte.

“Roadkill?” That sounded like Dr. Kavanagh, if she had to admit. She was always talking about bones, and that really confused Van, but she didn’t want to question her because it was her apartment she was staying in practically free of charge. “That’s sad… about the rabbit.” She wasn’t sure how it could still be beautiful if it were dead and bludgeoned, but maybe Wynne was weird like that, too. Some people liked dead things. Van was not one of them. She was afraid of dead things, because death seemed to follow her closely. Van’s jaw slackened a bit as Wynne admitted that Thea hit them with her bike. “Wait, really? You weren’t hurt?” Obviously they hadn’t been, they were standing in front of her now just fine. There might have been some weariness in their expression, but Van wasn’t observant enough to really notice. At Wynne’s question, Van shrugged. “I mean, I never really had like, roommates, you know? Family that lived with me, yeah, but never like, a not-family member.” It was still a little weird, and Van was still getting used to Thea’s habits.

When Wynne asked about the goo, Van nearly shouted that she had no theories, just that she didn’t do it, but would that make sense to them? Probably not. She shook her head a little bit too eagerly. “No theories, I don’t even know what it’s made of. But don’t eat it, even if you really want to. I hear it’s not worth it.”

—

Van was talking about things Wynne didn’t understand and they felt that unease creep up on them, that insecurity that came with not knowing things that seemed so inexplicable to others. “Oh, maybe … they can’t.” They shrugged. “You can always try. There was also a person who offered me a free computer online a while ago, but I think he was lying about it. He wasn’t very nice.” They frowned, wondering if they should just nod and hum along with what Van was saying, even if they didn’t get anything about it. “I don’t know what Steam is. I mean, I know what steam is, it’s something that you get when you boil water but I, ha, don’t think that’s what you mean?” They frowned a little. “I wasn’t raised with any computers. Um, that’s why I’m so … unknowledgeable — why I know so little.”

They gave a little nod, as if dipping their head was meant to respect the rabbit. “It was sad. I hope it had a long life.” A full one, at the very least. Wynne didn’t want to think about dead things, because it made their mind trail to their brother, to Padrig, to the demon and all the blood on the altar. They blinked rapidly for a moment, refocusing on the topics at hand. “Um, not badly no. A little bruised and scratched but nothing that needed any medical attention or anything!” Out of all the things that had happened these past months, that had been the least bad. “I understand. It was very weird for me to have roommates too at first. I mean, I always lived with people — with a lot of family and other people too. But my roommates were strangers at first. And very different from at home. But it was nice? It’s nice to live with people.”

They let out a sound of amusement before shaking their head as well. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Eating it, I mean. It seems to be dangerous. I hope it just goes away or something. I would like it if things were a little calmer and quieter, you know?” Wynne blinked at Van. “It’s been a bit hectic.”

—

“Oh, really? That sounds like a total scam. You should be careful about people offering you free things.” She looked over her shoulder towards the apartment, “everything comes with a price.” Van wasn’t sure if she should inform Wynne what she was doing for Dr. Kavanagh to even stay in her apartment, but she figured it’d come to light eventually. Van wasn’t very good at keeping things quiet like that.

Van shook her head, “steam is just like– it’s a program that holds games and stuff, it’s just games.” She extended her hands, tapping away through the air as if it were a keyboard, “and it’s cool that you didn’t grow up with computers!” It wasn’t, and Van would’ve hated it, but if she’d never grown up with computers, then maybe she wouldn’t have hated it– who knew. “It meant that you like, touched a lot of grass and stuff, right?” She bit the inside of her cheek. That’s probably what made the most sense. Wynne looked like they touched a lot of grass, they just sort of had that vibe about them.

“Oh, okay…” Van knew that some people lied about the things they had gone through to make it seem less intense, and she was never any good at that. It always showed through, no matter her attempts at keeping it downlow. “I don’t mind it, I don’t think. It’s… different, but it is nice. Neither of us really know how to cook, but like, that’s not a big thing.” She knew how to cook some dishes, but she ultimately refused due to the memories harbored in them. They weren’t things she wanted to address, even though she longed for her grandmother’s soup dumplings.

“Eating it is really dangerous, so like, you’re super right about that.” Van nodded as if to reiterate her point. “Calm things would be…” She paused, hopeful for a moment, “nice, I think, yeah.” She reached out and touched Wynne’s arm, “are you sure you’re okay? You look like, super tired, and I know Dr. Kavanagh is a doctor, so you were coming to see her for what, treatment?”

—

“I’m not very good at internet safety, but I’m trying to be better. I do think that was a scam. I didn’t get my computer after all.” And the person had taken their name, which had been a very unfortunate thing. Wynne pressed their lips together at Van’s statement. “I know.” They very much did. It was they who was once supposed to pay the prize for an exchange made before their lifetime.

They furrowed their brow a little. They didn’t really play a lot of games on their phone because they were very bad at them and though they knew computers were for games as well, they had no idea how to picture this. “Oh, that sounds cool. What kind of games do you like?” They shrugged a little. “I guess it was nice to not really have any technology. But also not so nice. The internet is very helpful for learning things by yourself.” Wynne nodded at Van’s question. “Yes, sure! A lot of grass.”

They were glad that Van and Thea were having a good time, living together. Maybe they were both doing okay. “You can learn, right? Maybe we can cook something together sometime. I like to cook. I sometimes make too much.” They’d simply never learned to cook for just one person. The pots at the commune had been large and filled to the brim, every mouth fed and satiated.

They looked down at Van’s hand on their arm and blinked at it, this simple and kind gesture that seemed to echo through them. “Um,” they looked back up. “I was coming to see her to thank her. She helped me out with something hard. And that’s what I’m tired from.” Wynne hesitated a little. “Just tired from everything, I guess. There’s bad things that happened. And will probably happen. You know? I don’t know if you … want to talk about those kind of things, though. But I don’t know. If I’m alright.”

—

“At least you know now! If you’re ever like, you know, worried you might be getting scammed, but you don’t know, just let me know and I’ll let you know, you know?” Van was at least good about things like that. She wondered, too, if Dr. Kavanagh had ever gotten scammed, especially because it seemed like she didn’t know a whole lot about internet safety, either. It was something that Van had grown up with, after all.

“I mean, all games– except the games that have math in them, because I really hate math.” She wore a pinched expression which only reiterated the fact that she did in fact hate math games. “But sudoku is okay, mostly because that’s not actually math.” She paused for a moment before continuing, “one time I finished a whole book of sudoku, but then realized I was doing it wrong, so maybe sudoku isn’t for me.” Her grandma had let her know in the nicest of ways that she was a moron, but it hadn’t stopped Van from trying to redo all of it.

“Youtube is like, really good– I learned how to change a tire off of Youtube.” Not well, but that didn’t matter! “We could probably learn how to cook some things off of Youtube, too.” She thought, very briefly, about the three of them– Thea included, in the kitchen, cooking things. It was a nice image, even if it made her feel a little sad.

By allowing Wynne to explain why they were at Dr. Kavanagh’s, the floodgates to what was really the reason of their visit seemed to open up. Van wasn’t selfish, not in the way that most people were, but she was selfish with the way that she let others open up to her, mostly because it meant she would need to be vulnerable with them. But didn’t Wynne deserve that? To have someone to rely on? They’d done a lot for her, even without really knowing it. She wanted to be brave like Wynne, and even if this wasn’t necessarily bravery, Van nodded, “I can listen to you! I can be a good listener, mostly when I’m like, focused, you know? Otherwise, sometimes–” She cleared her throat, shaking her head, “I can listen.”

—

“That would be amazing! I could really use that, a second pair of eyes. I want to trust people but I don’t want to be scammed. I don’t have a lot of money.” Though they had more than they had ever had. Wynne still felt completely in awe of every penny they earned, but they had also learned the hard way that they were not as rich as they sometimes felt. And to lose their money because of someone’s lies would be very sad indeed.

“I don’t mind maths. But I like card games a lot. Are those also on the computer? Or maybe you can teach me about some games, if you’d like?” That would be fun. “And then I can teach you some things to cook. You know?” Wynne wasn’t sure what sudoku was. “I think if you had fun doing the full book of sudokus, you did it right. Maybe that’s what matters!” It probably wasn’t. Puzzles had a certain solution, a certain logic. But they just wanted Van to be happy. “We will YouTube how to make sudokus as well.”

Their eyes scanned the place from somewhere to sit, as they were better at talking when they could pull up their legs. Something about making themself feel physically smaller, or at least less grounded. “Okay. I am not a very good talker sometimes. But I know you’re a good listener.” At least, it made sense with who Van was. Wynne went to sit on the couch, pulling a pillow to them.

“Um, okay. I went back home. With some people, like Dr Kavanagh. There was something bad at home,” they paused, not sure how to explain this. As far as they know, Van didn’t know about demons or all those other things. They didn’t really want to break that news. “That I ran from. I had to run from it or I was going to get hurt. You know? But we went there to solve it, and she helped. And — oh, this sounds vague, doesn’t it? It’s hard to explain! But she helped. My home, you know? I told you there were no computers? It was a commune. Like self-sufficient and stuff, we all farmed our own stuff and didn’t really have much technology, and that was all nice. But they also hurt people sometimes pretty badly.” Wynne shrugged. “And she helped with that.”

—

The thought of Wynne ever being scammed by somebody made her frustrated. They didn’t deserve that. Some people deserved to be scammed, but not people like Wynne. Van was good at figuring out what was real on the internet and what wasn’t, which, in itself, was sort of ironic.

“You can play pretty much anything on the computer.” The idea that Wynne would get a computer solely for solitaire fit their image pretty well. Or hey, maybe even Go Fish. Then again, they’d need someone to play it with. Maybe Van would be on the other side of things. At their offer, she nodded. “That’d be really nice, yeah!” She conjured up a vision of cards laying flat out on the table, kind of like the night she and Cass had played them– and of Wynne’s apartment smelling good– maybe kind of cinnamon-y. Did Van even like cinnamon? She couldn’t be sure. Van was pulled from their imaginary time together to the present, and she nodded. “It shouldn’t be like, super hard or anything. I think there are sheets where we can make our own, but you need to be careful not to mess up any of the numbers or else you have to start all over.” That was probably the most annoying thing about sudoku.

Something had changed in that moment, Van realized. They went from awkward small talk to something bigger, something way more serious than she could have ever imagined. The story that Wynne gave to her was past any expectations she had, and she found that her jaw was slackening a little bit as their friend went on.

“You lived in a cult?” Van’s voice was quiet, barely a breath above a whisper, “sorry– um, is that– that was wrong to say, right?” She cleared her throat and shook her head, smoothing a palm over her mouth, as if to wipe away the supposed insult. “That’s…” She thought about the documentaries about cults she’d watched in the middle of the night, how the creeping feeling of their deeds had made it hard to sleep. The fact that Wynne had been through anything like that…

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that.” Suddenly, her problems seemed very small, “but I’m um, glad that Dr. Kavanagh helped you out of it…?” She was a doctor after all, so maybe she had rewired Wynne’s brain to not want to go back? Or maybe it was something else? Van wasn’t really sure. “That sounds like it was…” She didn’t know what to say, so she let silence overtake them. After a few seconds, she mustered up the word, “really horrible.” Wow, no shit, Sherlock.

—

“Oh, wow. Technology, it can do so much.” They found it all quite impressive but mostly very hard to comprehend. They still struggled with typing texts on their phone, even if they thought they’d mastered emojis. “Then we’ll do it!” Wynne smiled at Van. They figured that everyone needed a little lighthearted fun right about now, regardless of what was going on in their lives. And even if the apartment Van lived in was nice, they could imagine that she was sad about losing her old home. “Oh, that could be fun, to make our own. And share them around.”

They felt heavy with the words that had left them, but somehow lighter to. It would never get completely easy to talk about these things, but they at least understood how to go about it. And they trusted Van, even if they’d never really sat like that. Maybe it was a gut feeling. Wynne was also just tired of not having it be known, perhaps. This huge thing in their past. This life they’d lived for twenty one years, so starkly different from the one year they’d lived ever since they’d left.

Van called it a cult. There was that word again. They’d Googled it, not too long ago, lying in their bed and staring at the word. Textbook definitions. Examples of cults. Why they were harmful. But home had been different, because the thing they had believed in had been real! Siors hadn’t been a liar. The demon had really existed, had really punished its followers for their shortcomings, had really died. It wasn’t the same.

They looked at Van and shrugged. “I don’t know. I call it a commune. Or I called it home. Sometimes people say it’s a cult. I don’t know. But I also don’t know what the right or wrong thing is to say so don’t worry.” Wynne didn’t really mind. They just were confused about these things. The apology was somewhat expected. People were good at being sorry. They were good at being sorry for others. They didn’t know if they wanted to tell Van that they would have killed them if they had remained. They didn’t know how to tell her that without explaining that there were demons out there.

They shrugged. “It’s over now. I have a new life now. And I think it’s good that people know. That I come from something like that. So they get it. But it’s over now.” Wynne shrugged again. “It wasn’t all bad. We had many animals. And … well, the food was nice.”

—

“You have no idea. There are even cars that drive themselves.” She’d seen the articles about the recalls, “but like, I’m not really sure the technology is there yet, you know what I mean?” Van liked the idea of a self-driving car, but she knew she’d be too afraid to actually get into one.

Van couldn’t exactly read Wynne’s expression, but they didn’t seem disturbed by the use of the word. At least she hadn’t screwed up there. As far as she was concerned, a commune was a cult, because most of the time it played out that way. Then again, this wasn’t fiction, and even if this world was fucked up, maybe Wynne was right that it was just home to them, but something bad had happened there, so how could it still be home? Van couldn’t even look at the house she shared with her parents, especially not after it’d been covered in goo. Maybe other people had different meanings for the word home.

“Home… okay.” She wasn’t the type to argue about something like this, not with somebody her age. She’d argue about it with Emilio, maybe.

For a moment, Van thought to let the silence warp around them, but Wynne continued talking. About the bad, the good– and about the home they’d escaped from. That’s what Van thought they’d done, anyway. “Nice food is always good, because if the food sucks, then what’s the point?” She knew she was right with that way of thinking, at least. She didn’t think Wynne could argue much about that.

“Animals are cool, too. I mean, I’ve never had a pet or anything, so I’m not sure, but I had a class pet gerbil once.” She paused, remembering her plan with Jade to dig it up to give the bones to Dr. Kavanagh, “but that’s like, all, really.” Wynne seemed to have lived a bunch of different lives than where they were at right now, and Van was impressed, if a little jealous. “I’m glad you’re here, though. In Wicked’s Rest, I mean.” That was the truth.

—

They let out a laugh. “That’s not true,” Wynne said. But then they looked at Van. “Right? Oh. Really?” Maybe society was moving too fast. Maybe the people at home had had a point to condemn some of today’s people for how they wanted to constantly modernize. They’d had a few automobiles there, but the concept of a self-driving car was wild. “I can’t believe that’s real. But I prefer a human-driven car.”

They buried their teeth in their lip, nibbling at a loose bit of skin. The word home echoed around their head and they weren’t sure what it meant any more. “Not any more, though. It’s not any more. It’s just … the past now.” But it had been home. There had been the smell of oatmeal in the morning and the flannel sheets and all of it had been so familiar. Nothing here was. There were self driving cars here and phones that played loud sounds that held the entirety of the world at ones fingertips. “Maybe home is bad sometimes. Even if it can nice at the same time.”

What good would those nice things have been though, if they’d been dead? What use was there in good food and flannel sheets and a beautiful lake if they’d died? Wynne blinked. There was no use in longing for a place that had thought them better of dead. “But there’s good food here too. I’ll teach you how to make some. And I really like all the candy options. I am really into Twix at the moment.”

They smiled at Van, a little vaguely. “They are. Would you ever want a pet? They’re fun to have.” Wynne shrugged a little. “I miss the cows most of all. They are such gentle souls. Much more scared than you’d expect.” They smiled a little brightly and more clear. “I’m glad too. I’m glad we’re friends.”

—

“I think old people thought we’d be riding whales through the sky, or I think that’s what I saw in a drawing once, but…” Van shrugged, “I guess self-driving cars are the best we can do?” Unless the government was hiding something super secret, which, now Van definitely believed they were. There was no way the CIA didn’t know that magic existed. Really, she hoped they didn’t. The CIA sucked, and so did the government. The idea of them getting their hands on anything supernatural made her upset beyond reason. Mildly lost in her thoughts, she was brought back to the present as Wynne made a comment. “Yeah, humans are cool!” And bears, and winged women, and–

It’s just the past now.

Van could relate to falling into ideas of the past, but she didn’t want Wynne to. Not when they’d escaped a cult. God, she hoped that nobody got their hands on Wynne’s story and tried to make a documentary out of it. “Home can be nice, yeah, I guess so.” Dr. Kavanagh’s apartment didn’t feel like home, but having Thea in it sort of did, and having Wynne visit sort of made it seem like it could be, but she knew this couldn’t be forever.

At Wynne’s offer, Van brightened. “Sure! That’d be really cool. Maybe I can show you how to make some wontons, if you want?” They were her grandma’s recipe, and something that made her sad to work on, but if Wynne could do things that made them sad because they thought it would be nice for other people, then Van could, too. “Twix are good, have you tried the left one?” It was a joke about the ads brought on to make people think there was a difference, but she realized that Wynne wouldn’t get it. “Never mind, ignore that.”

She looked down at her feet, mismatched socks stark against the otherwise pristine flooring. “I never really was allowed, I mean, I think the closest I got is when we found that weird rabbit thing.” Van looked back up at Wynne with a smile. “Cows seem cool. Nothing like the movies. Much cooler than horses.” Wynne admitting that they were also glad to have a friend in her made Van vibrate with the hope of being wanted– of having somebody who wanted to stay. “Do you want a sandwich? I have peanut butter and jelly. It’s peach jelly.” It was her favorite, but she’d offer it to the person who told her that they were glad they were friends.

#threads.#the c word.#van.

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