@vivlennox replied to your post â[pm] Fuck, dude, if you wanted free pity pancakes...â:
[pm] Then tell whoever the fuck runs the firehouse socials to not make it sound like you were turned into a fucking pancake. I mean, yeah. But blah blah, good publicity for the diner to give free food to local hero while heâs on the mend, blah blah blah. You gotta milk that shit for all itâs worth. One of my best friends accidentally stabbed me once, and Iâm still getting shit out of it. You have an entire town. Get your bag.
â[pm] [User sighs.] That'd be me, currently, when they decide to torture me a little bit. [...] Didn't write that post, though. Had it my way, there wouldn't have been any post about it. Keeps the cover up, I guess.
If the diner delivers, I'll take one free meal, and only if you're the one bringin' it, and only if you let me slip you a tip, to compensate and all. No taxes if you don't claim it, and, hey, I can see that motorcycle of yours. Win-win. [...] If this isn't a circus story, I'm gonna have some follow-up questions. Hell, if this is a circus story, I'm gonna need to know how you accidentally get stabbed. [User has seen so many accidental stabbings.]
[pm] Not feeling all the Firefighter Kelly Brooks, Our Hero reposts the little old ladies are doing? Had enough of your taste of celebrity with St Paddy?
They donât. But I wonât charge you the gas money itâll cost to get my buddy Flip some pancakes. You give me a tip and we can call it even. [âŚ] The fuck do you think I am, some dumbfuck on an episode of Jackass? Of course itâs circus shit. My buddy Luka was practicing. He and his brother throw knives and juggle. Caught my arm. More of a slice than a stab. But stab sounds more dramatic. I fucking milked that shit for months.
Congrats on doing the bare fucking minimum I guess
⌠Iâm being sarcastic? I did? For me? Hello?
[âŚ] Dude. This isnât a Flipped advertisement, this is your local queer service worker telling you to give her money because itâs fucking pride, and she wants to make more in tips this month.
TIMING:Â Current
LOCATION:Â The Chimera
PARTIES: @vivlennox & @howlinjack
SUMMARY:Â Jackie goes into The Chimera for the first time. Viv sees someone completely out of their element, and decides to take him under her wing.
CONTENT WARNINGS: none!
The phrase âfollow your noseâ had always bothered Jackie. When had following their nose ever done anyone any good? A year into having that bite on his side and he still wasnât used to the face that he could follow his nose. Everything smelled so much more. The world was so damn smelly. Everything was much more than it had ever been before and more often than not lately, a nagging curiosity led him along rather than any sense of self-preservation. That and a whisper of a phrase on a downtown street that seemed to reach his sharp ears and no one elseâs. A whisper that led him to a place in the woods with a smell he couldnât place.
Somehow, he Toucan Samâed his way in front of a washer-dryer set that had seen better days. The building it was in probably had too. Jackie huffed. Flexed his hands by his sides. Who was he to judge? The machine looked unassuming enough. Just some buttons and knobs. Old as shit. What was the worst that could happen? He already felt foolish just being there. Pressing a button wouldnât realistically make it any worse. The sound of a door hissing open startled him and he clutched a hand to his chest.
âJesus.â
âNot that kind of place, sorry to disappoint,â a gruff voice mumbled. âJumpy, ainât you?â
And then a man Jackie had never met before in his thirty-six years of living sniffed him. He hesitantly sniffed back. Was that what he was supposed to do? The man looked at him, sniffed again, then cracked a smile that could have been threatening or welcoming.
âPicked a good night, first-timer. Go on in.â
Mmm donât like that, Jackie thought. He gave his thanks and walked past the man that smelled likeâŚnot a dog but a different kind of animal. More woodsy? Walked past him right into a room that smelled strongly of dogs and beer and more dogs andâŚhot dog water? A room full of howls and laughs and yips that he simply couldnât relate to himself. Yet it sounded like him. The him of before and the him of now.
Jackie all but ran to the bar top and sat down heavily in a spot away from the crowd. Right now wasnât the time for a crisis, he urged himself, then ordered a whiskey neat. Stared into it because he wasnât sure where else to look. There were too many smells, too many sounds, and sights he couldnât make sense of. Velvet and steel and teeth and snakeskin. He just needed a breather. Just a minute and heâd be fine. Maybe another whiskey too.
â
The one downside of The Chimera was the parking. To say it sucked would have been an understatement. Sure, it made sense not to have a bunch of cars lined up outside the decrepit old building. For a place that did its best to remain under the radar, a veritable car show parked outside would have been a flashing neon sign that not all was what it seemed. Viv glowered down at the mud that caked her boots as she stomped down the stairs into the basement.Â
Grizz had mentioned the place to her. When the circus had packed up, and taken her whole life with it, the old bear had done his best to provide her with some friendly faces, and to provide himself with some small shred of comfort in knowing the lamia had placed she could go. Viv had become a frequent face over the course of two yearsâ shit, almost three years. Had it really been that long already? She did the math in her head again, knowing the answer even before sheâd finished counting how many months had passed. How could she not know. Viv woke up every day with the exact number of days it had been since sheâd seen her family last, and entered into this inescapable prison sentence of an existence.Â
Viv pulled off her helmet and raked a hand through her hair, shaking it out as she jammed a finger into the dryer button. âYeah, yeah, itâs just me.â The bouncer snorted, shaking his head exasperated as the lamia started to head inside. âOne of these days, Iâm going to lock you out.â He called after her. Viv laughed, shoving a crumpled ten in the manâs hands as she pushed past him. Blowing a kiss, Viv raised her middle finger with a wink to the bugbear. âNah. Youâd miss me too much.âÂ
The woman made a beeline to the bar, hoisting herself up onto an empty stool. ââ Stevie, when I tell you today was a fucking bitch and a half,â Viv called to the bartender, slumping forward onto the bar as her fingers raked up into her own hair and she massaged her temple. âI had this one lady insist she ordered a different order five different times. No I ordered chocolate chip pancakes, no I ordered waffles with blueberry compote, god youâre incompetent, how do you have a job? Jesus fuck.â She groaned, relieved to finally be in a spot where she didnât have to mind her tongue.Â
A pint glass sloshed as it was set down in front of her, and Viv flicked her fingers at the bartender in a salute as they shook her head at her antics. She took a long sip, the tightly wound coil of tension sheâd become unwinding ever so slightly as she sipped her beer. But the more she relaxed, she couldnât help but notice the stranger sheâd parked herself next to was radiating nervous energy in waves. Her brows raised, narrowed eyes taking in the sight from head to toe.Â
Probably not a siren⌠they always struck Viv as a proud lot. She couldnât blame them. If sheâd been born with wings, sheâd think she was hot shit, too. He didnât have the feline grace some of the balam sheâd known carried themselves with⌠no, the poor guy looked like a shaky dog, scared shitless and alone in a new place. âFirst time?â She asked, shifting in her seat to look at him.Â
â
The sheer noise of the world had been the first of his changes to startle Jackie. It was all just so much louder, crisper, shriller. Dog whistles? Actual hell. The sound of the bar was, needless to say, a lot but it wasâŚfamiliar. Reminded him of the Lion back home. He tried to focus on that feeling. Hold it close to his rapid heartbeat as he slowly spun his whiskey glass on the coaster. A soggy homage to The Slaughtered Lamb sign eyed him through the amber.
Through the sound of pool cues and laughter, a new one entered. Rolled up to the bartop like a gathering storm and Jackie couldnât help himself but to glance over. One of the first rules of bar going was to never glance over. Julian had taught him that. And to hell with Julian. He lowered his eyes and listened. She was at this strange bar, same as him, but the way she talked about her job, they could have been anywhere. It was normal. She worked a job she didnât seem to like all that much and after a rough day, went to the bar to raise her spirits. Like anyone would. The bartender knew her.
Not so different.Â
Jackieâs brow furrowed. He worked a job he semi-liked, more out of convenience and an inhuman reluctance to just give up on the one thing he was ever good at, and he had found his way to a bar too. Or it had found its way to him. He wasnât so sure how he felt about coincidences anymore. He listened to her tale and fought off a smile. Once, when he had wanted to piss off his dad, he had taken up some shifts at the Morning Glory off of 10th St. A favor to his friend, mostly, but also a moment to get away and not be in the gloves. He hadnât been there long but the experience seemed universal.
Again, not so different.
The feeling clung to his gut like a burr and Jackie shifted uneasily. Someone howled in the corner. He was different. As far as he knew, irrevocably. The white noise drowned out the rest of the bar until he heard the shift of barseat leather and felt eyes on him. He tapped his fingers against the rim of his glass, then looked over. Her hair was pink. Sometimes, if a bout got messy, his hair would turn pink from all the blood. These days, it felt like he was always dyed with it. Another long moment and he registered her question.
âMe?â
A strained smile. One quick sip of his whiskey. He held it like a buoy.
âOh, uh, yeah, first time. Clear as day, huh?â Jackie finally answered. âHeard about it, sort of, and thought, what the hell, why not? Beats going toâŚâ He searched for the name of the place she probably worked at. Couldnât grasp it in his hands. â...Waffle House? Nah, the pancake place. Pancake Hut? Palace? I got nothing, but yâknow...â
A slight rise and fall of his shoulders.
âThis a regular place for you?â
â
Viv snorted. âNo, the other guy sitting here looking like a lost lamb. Yeah, you.â For all the bite her words could have contained, the exhausted, lopsided smirk of a smile on her face had her sounding more playful than pissed. The poor guy muscled out a smile like it was causing him physical pain to do so. He was holding on to the rocks glass like it was the single thing in the bar keeping him from crawling out of his skin. He seemed new, new. Definitely not a siren. Sirens werenât made. He seemed like heâd been drop kicked into the fucking deep end, and was just barely treading water.Â
She took a sip of her beer as she nodded, turning to kick one leg over the other as she really looked at the guy. Sheâd had years of feeling the safety that came in numbers. In a place like the Chimera, Viv felt a little bit closer to home. If she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend Andrej and Luka were playing darts across the way, bickering about who was the better shot of the two, or Eva was sat next to her, trying to convince her to dye her hair some other color than the faded out pink. This man didnât seem to share that comfortability. This didnât feel like a living room to him. Not yet.Â
As easy as it was to feel safe in the chimera, the woman could remember a time when she was coiled and ready to strike at any given moment. It hadnât always been safe. Once sheâd been a scared kid who hadnât had anyplace sheâd belonged. Grizz had been the one to really bring her into the fold, and make sure Viv could start to live instead of just survive. The man in the bar wasnât a scared kid like sheâd been, but he sure as hell was in survival mode.Â
âFlipped.â She supplied, taking another sip. âLocal diner. But if youâre going there for anything other than the pancakes, youâre fucking insane. The foods good, but the pancakes are one of the few things keeping me from finding a different gig.â Viv sighed as she set her beer back down on the counter, stretching her arms overhead before settling back in her chair. âRegular enough. I can get more comfortable here than I can at the Wormhole. Yâknow? Canât get past the front door if youâre not a part of the club.â The woman held her glass up in a salute. âViv. Welcome to the party.â
â
Jackie huffed through his nose and nodded his head. Yeah, she had him there. The room felt full of a familiarity that he couldnât touch, only observe. The outsider. But he had been let in, for a reason that didnât sit right under his skin. He tried not to think about that so much. To stay present as she talked to him, looked at him. Saw him. There wasnât any flash of recognition, a look that started with âhey, arenât youâŚ?â He was glad for that. That didnât stop the way he tensed when she turned and fully looked at him.Â
It was just a conversation at a bar, it didnât have to be anything more than that, but it was. Jackie had passed a sniffcheck at the door and got an okay that he wasnât sure he felt okay about getting. He had gone in anyway. Sure, he worried, but part of him held off any sense of self-preservation or caution. Reckless. That yawning beast in his chest turned over at the thought of it. He lifted his eyes from the bartop and looked back at her too. An easy smile, comfort, confidence. Heâd had that once too. It fit her. It didnât feel like it fit him anymore.
âRight, Flipped,â Jackie agreed. âTheyâre that good, huh? Guess I should probably try it. Beats the Jimmy Dean breakfast shit I throw together every morning.â He lightly tapped fingertips against the bartop as he listened. Questions jumped up as she spoke but he withheld them. God, he had so many. âYeah, I think I get what you mean. The Wormholeâs, uh, interesting. Dâyou know whatâs up with the guinea pigs?â
The club. The party. She spoke about it all so casually that it made Jackieâs jaw ache with how tightly he pressed his teeth together. What was it like for her? Was she like him? He couldnât tell. There were too many smells in the room and his heart thundered in his chest.
The smell of hot dogs overruled everything as one, fully dressed with mustard wolf ears and onion teeth, was slid in front of him. The bartender nodded at him. He didnât nod back.
â...Jackie,â he said as he half-raised his glass. âRight, the, uh, club. What is it?â
â
Whoever he was, he didnât like having all eyes on him. Viv ignored the impulse to lean closer to see what might have been hiding below the surface. She didnât know his life. What was more, she knew what it was like to suddenly be surrounded by a world she hadnât known existed. At seventeen, sheâd felt safer than she had in her entire life when she fell in with the Cirque de Lâours, but sheâd still been a coiled little corn snake, playing at being a viper and ready to strike at a moment's notice. It had been hard to give up a defense mechanism that had been decades in the making.Â
She leaned back on her stool, draping herself across it like she owned the damn place as she took another long sip from her beer. âListen, this town and I have no love lost. But when I do get the fuck out of here, I will miss the pancakes.â Viv snorted, rolling her eyes. âItâs a shithole, you can say it. But itâs a good one. The owner Harveyâs a good guy. And do not gamble with those bitchesâ those fuzzballs are sharks if youâre not careful. Won three hundred off me once in a poker game.â She paused a beat before continuing. âIn case it wasnât clear, theyâre not really guinea pigs. Not really sure what they are, but they love to gamble.â
The man sat across from her was wound so tight, she was practically waiting for his head to pop off his shoulders. She wanted so badly to write it off and just enjoy her drink, but the voice in the back of her mind that sounded far too much like a grouchy old bear had something that vaguely resembled a kind smile settling on her lips. âFuck, you are green. The not quite human club.â She shut her eyes, and when she opened them again the deep brown of her irises had been replaced with a vivid red, serpentine slits dashing the place human pupils had once been. âNo one here bites. Unless youâre into that sort of thing.â She winked before leaning onto the bar and flagging down the bartender. âStevieâ can I get a dog too? That smells good. And a round of shots for me and my friend Jackie, here, before he passes the fuck out.âÂ
â
âReady to leave town, huh?â
His head tipped to the side at her statement. Jackie wasnât sure how to feel about Wickedâs Rest, let alone himself. The town felt off and strange, incredibly dangerous. And who was he to judge it for being all of those things? He couldnât have before, certainly not lately. If this was the place for him, he didnât know. In truth, he didnât want to say that it was. What that would say about him. What it would mean for him to accept those parts of himself that had fangs and claws. If he could burn it out of himself, he would have with little to no hesitation.Â
How freely she spoke, how she carried herselfâŚA strange shame crawled along Jackieâs skin as he listened to her, softly laughing at the way she talked about places he had come to be familiar with. Desperately, he wished he could be that way too, to breathe and be that easy. But he couldnât. He didnât even know what to do with his own fucking hands anymore and they were what he had always felt certain of. He didnât want to think of that, to wallow. He wanted to just be Jackie. Sitting in a bar full of people that smelled like him, that could smell the sickness on him, was a strange place to try that.Â
He refocused on Viv and nodded in agreement.
âIt is a little, yeah, but every townâs got their beloved shithole, right? One of those places where the quirks of it all are part of the appeal. What makes it feel okay,â Jackie said. The most he had said since he sat down. She talked about the guinea pigs like they had the wherewithal to make complex decisions, let alone rob people of their money. Given the way he was less human and more of a beast lately, maybe a guinea pig could be more human than he thought. Or something else, like she suggested. New fear acquired. âIâve heard good things about him. Not so much theâŚnot guinea pigs? Iâll keep that in mind, I guess.â
One moment, her eyes were like his, and the next they were a shade of red too bright to be blood. And inhuman. Jackie sat back a moment, blinked, then leaned forward the slightest amount. Curiosity widened his hazel eyes by a fraction.
âWereâŚWere you bitten by a snake?â
He felt silly asking it, no sillier than he already felt. Like an imposter no matter where he went in town. Her wink threw him off and his skin burned as he returned his attention to his drink. My friend Jackie. It felt rude to ignore the hot dog. Out of politeness, he waited until another one was slid in front of her before he started to pick at his own. And then their round of shots arrived.
âYou didnât have to do all that,â he said as he eyed them. Then he looked at her again. âWell, should we cheers to something?â
â
âThatâs the understatement of the century.â She snorted into her beer. âGets to a point where youâre gnawing at the fucking bars of your enclosure.â Viv had been rattling the bars of her invisible cage for nearly three years. She could never go to a zoo again. She understood what the poor bastards felt like. Locked in, pacing back and forth, and never able to get to that spot just behind the glass. It was enough to drive anyoneâ man, beast, or bothâ to the brink. Â
He was coming out of his shell, little by little. Viv was pretty sure he hadnât said more than four words in a row to her since sheâd opened her mouth, so the complete sentences were a nice change of pace. âYeah, Harvâs great. Wonât find a nicer guy. Heâs pretty much the only reason I go in. Those fucking furballs, however. Thereâs some restaurant in town that flips to a casino at night. Little bastards will bleed you dry if youâre not careful. I really donât want to find out what the Godfather version of a Not Guinea Pig is.â
She was expecting the surprise on his face. The curiosity that lit up something in those hazel eyes reminded her a bit of the kids whoâd press their squishy little faces against the glass when they were looking at the âsnake ladiesâ. The wonder and amazement, and the mommy, can I be a snake mermaid of it all. And then nostalgia of the moment popped like a soap bubble as Jackie asked what was possibly the funniest fucking question Viv had ever heard.Â
Viv was laughingâ a sharp, bright bark of a sound cut through the cacophony of the shifter bar and had the lamia doubled over. âNoâ fuck, sorry, that was funny. No, I wasnât bit by a snake. I was born this way. Or hatched? Shit, did I hatch out of a fucking egg? Not importantââ Viv sighed, shaking her head as she giggled. âBit by a snake, like Iâm fucking Spider-Man.â At least now she knew he wasnât exactly like her. âIâm a lamia. Weâre either born this way, like yours truly, or cursed by a witch or some shit. Iâve never met anyone who fell into the latter category though.â The embarrassed flush that was rapidly taking over the manâs face had Viv wondering what she could do to speed him along to looking like a bashful tomato. âBasically Medusa but sexier.â She continued, an impish glee lighting up the snakeâs eyes. âBut I canât turn you to stone. At least, not like that.âÂ
Viv went right back to her game of process of elimination as she waited on the food and drinks. âAlright, I give up. I canât sniff you out like the doorman. Not a lamia⌠and you donât reek like hard boiled eggs, so probably not a hellhound. So either youâre literally spider man, or you're a wolf.âÂ
The shots were set down in front of them before she could lock in her guess, and she waved off Jackieâs protestations. âI had people help me out when I first found a community. Only fair I pay it forward.â Viv shrugged. She slid a shot his way before grabbing the other for herself. She raised the glass in a little salute. âTo finding yourself a community?â She offered.Â
â
Jackie bit the inside of his cheek, tasted blood. Gnawing at the bars of your enclosure agitated that fever beast in his chest. The monster had him caged and he had the monster in the saddest excuse of a grapple this side of the fucking river. The monster laughed at the idea of an enclosure and he frowned, trying to push down that flood of panic that seemed to rise every time he focused on where he was. She seemed so comfortable, confident. Everything about her said that and he mourned for his ghost that used to be that too. He looked at Viv and tilted his head.
âYou canât leave? Is it, uh, family orâŚ?â
The mention of a guinea pig casino brought a brighter, lighter smile out of him. One that almost showed teeth until Jackie caught himself and made it something smaller. Dimmer. Covered the moon. Viv was easy to talk to. Nice. It had been hard for him to find words. Afraid of how inhuman they might come out. But sitting there, laughing about card shark guinea pigs and sharing a drinkâŚHe almost felt human again. In the most inhuman place he could have been. He sat with that for a moment.
He felt sick. Knew he was.
âI donât think I do either, just watching the Godfather stressed me out enough for a lifetime. Yâthink one of âem is named Vito? The biggest one maybeâŚâ
Jackie turned his drink around in his hand thoughtfully. And then her laugh pulled him out of his own head. He felt eyes on them as people glanced over at the sudden sound and he felt his skin burn even more, but he didnât feel embarrassed. Not necessarily. Maybe a little when she looked at him and giggled and he couldnât help but smile back. Return her bright laughter with a soft, unsure laugh of his own. He barely knew what the hell was up with werewolves. Snakes (weresnakes?) were years beyond him. Then she talked and it wasnât weresnakes and he was riveted.
He went to tear off a piece of the hot dog, heard basically Medusa but sexier, and froze in spite of it all. Centered himself to make another attempt but then the follow-through hit of being turned to stone caused his half-assed attempt to piece the hot dog apart to turn into a mess of condiments and mystery meat. He frantically reached for napkins and swore at himself under his breath for what felt like a lifetime, sure that she enjoyed this, and wanted to fade away into the floorboards. He wasnât a boy, he had objectively heard worse, but this was different.
âJesus,â he huffed under his breath. And then she continued on like he wasnât suffocating and he tried to pretend for her sake that he wasnât. âSpider-Man wouldnât be so bad, maybeâŚâ
He glanced down, a mess of a man, at his mess of a werewolf hot dog. There he was. He didnât look up when he answered.
âUh, wolf I guess. I was bit by one so now I guess I can get into places like this. Neat, right?â
Community. Help. Could Jackie be helped? It didnât feel like he could but then he was at a bar with Viv being kind to him, with her bright laugh and her warm smile, and he wanted to believe that. Yet he still felt cold as he took the shot glass in hand and angled it towards her. Tried to find a warm smile in himself to share with her but it was buried deep.
âSure, yeah, to that.â
â
âAhâ no.â Viv rolled her shoulders, trying to shake herself loose of the tension that seemed to creep in when she remembered that, given the opportunity, sheâd leave the small town behind and never look back. âNo, my familyâs on the road⌠long story. Be careful before you promise anyone in this town anything, thatâs all Iâm saying. Real fucking careful.âÂ
The devil-may-care gleam in her eyes dimmed as she imparted the advice. It was as serious as she was willing to get that evening. There were nights that sheâd stay up and watch the clock, counting the seconds that passed by as she grew older, and nothing changed. Sheâd sit in the dark of her apartment, a neon haze from the window casting the room in a purple hue, and rot in the anger until she was a shriveled, bitter husk of a thing. Nights like this one were the opposite. Viv shed that old skin, and embraced the one underneath. The one that chased pleasure as a distraction from the hell that sheâd found herself in.Â
Distractions like watching Jackieâs face turn a delightful shade of red as her lack of decorum kept him on his toes. âProbably. Wonder if offering them some cannolis might do me some good.â Viv watched the flush creep up his face as the boisterous persona sheâd adopted for the evening had the spotlight of attention creeping onto them. Another uncouth joke fell from her lips, and the poor man nearly choked to death on his hot dog, that proceeded to fall apart in his hands. She pressed her lips together in a thin line as she lost a battle with herself to not let the corners of her mouth curl up in a smile. âIâm no Spider-man. Iâd need a filter for that. Closer to Deadpool, if anything.â The turn the conversation was taking had her missing a different wolf entirely. She wanted Jackie to agree to her toast just so she could take the shot and burn away the ache she could feel in her chest.Â
âNeat, sure⌠terrifying at first though, Iâm sure. Remember the first time I grew a fucking tail⌠thought I was the devil or some shit.â Viv gave the man a sympathetic glance. âEspecially if you donât know any of this exists⌠like being shoved in the deep end and not knowing how to swim. Once you find your peopleâŚ. It helps, is all Iâm saying.â She shrugged, lifting her glass. âTo that.â she echoed, before hastily taking her shot.Â
â
âYouâre okay,â Jackie said as his eyes flitted around Vivâs face. Maybe it was discomfort he detected. Maybe it was discomfort at himself. Who was he to ask after anyoneâs story when he kept a tight lock on his own most days? Anything prior to the last year could be read in the Inquirer. The last 365 days were the first that he could keep to himself. He hated and welcomed that. âHappy to hear it whenever you wanna tell it. If you do, yâknow.â
Jackie didnât want to assume, jump to any conclusions. The world he had assumed to be one way had turned out to be another. He wondered if that had happened to Viv too. Whatever it was, he wouldnât prod at it any further. They were at that shared bartop for a reason. Two hot dogs, a few shots, and a loud silence between them. He took in a quiet breath, then showed Viv a quiet smile. A tired one.
âSo IâŚshouldnât promise you that I wonât promise anyone anything? Gotcha.â
He laughed low in his throat and rubbed at his knuckles to ease the flustered tension that gathered along his skin. Jackie was out of practice. Talking, being comfortable. Being himself. The mention of cannolis warmed his smile further. The mention of copyrighted characters that the Mouse would side-eye reminded him of home. Of arguments between rows of comics decades older than him. Hardly arguments but more playful excuses to talk for hours and hours about people that werenât themselves.
He could spend a lifetime doing that.
âWell, glad youâre not really Ryan Reynolds, tryinâ to sell me fuckinâ Cricket mobile or whatever the fuck.â
It wasnât neat. It was awful. It was soul-rending hell but over a hot dog wasnât the place to dump all that. Time and place. Jackie thought about what she said. Thought of how placid and calm snakes always seemed when he crossed their path. They werenât monsters, werenât beasts. He didnât see Viv that way. She wasnât a devil. They didnât come to him as kind strangers in bars with nice smiles and skin-warming humor. They came to him in more familiar shapes.
âIâm sure theyâre, uh, nice. Pretty? Your scales and stuff.â
Jackie wasnât sure of himself in that bar. Surrounded by a new familiarity that felt suffocating and life-ending. That made the creature under his skin turn over and over, furious that it wasnât out. But he was alive and looking at Viv and he was okay. As much as he could convince himself that he was. Later on, when he was alone, thatâs when the scaries would creep in.
â...Thanks for this, Viv,â he said to her, sincerity wrapped tight around his words. âFor, uh, helping me figure out how to swim.â
â
Viv gave him a tight little nod. She was not about to dump her baggage on some guy in the bar. She hadnât had anywhere near enough to drink to open up that can of worms. And besidesâ She had people to talk to. Sure they were only accessible to her through a screen in her pocket, and were all a thousand miles away, but she had peopleâŚÂ
The casual conversation was enough to drag her mind back to where she liked it when she was in a place like The Chimera. Light and casual, nothing too serious. Just enough to forget, for a few minutes. âFuckâ not Mint Mobile.â She snickered, shaking her head. âIâd have a way cooler side hustle than selling fucking phone lines.â This was why she went out. Conversations about bullshit that didnât matter. Things that werenât a constant reminder that she was stuck in the few dozen square miles that made up the town of Wickedâs Rest.
A lazy grin broke out across her face as she shrugged her shoulders. âIâm not too shabby.â Viv leaned back in her seat, tapping her fingernail against the shot glass. âMaybe Iâll show you mine, if I get to see yours one of these days.â She teased. But then that sincerity in his voice had her chest tightening again. He reminded her of who sheâd been when she found Grizz all those years ago. Scared, and grateful to finally have found someone who understood. She threw the shot back and let the liquor burn away the thoughts of Grizz, and Andrej, and Luka, and how scared sheâd been back then. How scared she still was, though sheâd never admit to it. âNo problem.â She said. âDonât mention it.âÂ
Just trying to show some respect. But I hear you loud and clear, Viv. It wasn't my first time on the back of a ride like that. First time with someone who looks as good as you, though. [...] Yes. Absolutely. we should definitely go for a ride, yes.
I kind of want to see you a little disrespectful. Think it could be fun. Hard to look as good on a bike as me, but I think you were a close second. [...] You free later? We could go for a spin. You're gonna want to hang on tighter this time. I'm in a speed limit as suggestions sort of mood.
I would. I would want. I will come in specifically for 'ur gay' written on my chocolate chip pancakes. And Gus shouldn't feel too bad about the rainbow thing, honestly, I would've assumed any colorful pancakes would just come out looking weird. Tried doing the blue Percy Jackson pancake thing as a kid? Mouth? blue. A bowl? destroyed. Fire department? called because I burned the pancakes.
We can make that happen. [...] what the fuck did you do??? I don't know who you are girl, but do not fucking apply for a job at Flipped. Spare Gus the accidental arson charges.
You should find a way to have extra tips every month of year. Like, for instance, having it so people are obligated to give you extra tips in October because you have to survive the spooks of Halloween.
January: I'm broke from the holidays, tip me
February: I'm so sad (sarcastic) and single, tip me
March: My Da's Irish, tip me
April: Leave me a massive tip as an April fools prank.
May: May-be you should tip me more
June: Support the gays, give me fucking money
July: Give me the money you would have spent on fireworks
August: I'd look hotter in a new bikiniâ pay for it by tipping me
September: Back to school: Practice your math by calculating 40% tip
October: Tip me extra and I'll scare you
November: I'm thankful when you give me a bigger tip
December: Give me a holiday bonus and tip 50%
[pm] I haven't... they that good? Hm. Fair point. Dangerous if a ranger gets a whimsical desire to hit up the circus, though. [...] Ah. Yeah... so you don't know if they're dead? I always kinda figured, like... if the fae died, I would die. I've heard it thrown around, anyway. Maybe that ain't true. Maybe I could just-- No, she'd--
[pm] Good enough that we've never run into any problems. Moved around frequently enough that by the time any of those fuckers caught wind, we were already on to the next town. [...] Not a fucking clue. If they're fine, and they skipped town without me and left me fucking stranded here, there'll be hell to pay. But I don't think I'm that lucky. [...] Depends on how the agreement was worded. Was it verbal or written?
Flip don't got no concept of Hell, just yet. He's barely got object permanence. Figured we'd save eternal damnation for later, if at all.
I'm respectin' the stegosaurus's right of self-identification and personal autonomy or whatever the fuck by not lettin' a toddler decide he's named Gregory. Meteor was disrespectful enough, blowin' him up like that. I'd never dare add to his burdens.
Yeah. Zack gets into enough trouble babysittin'. Guess one baby's enough. [...] Assumin'... motorcycle? If the boots fit and all. [User will not be addressing whether or not Zack is pretty, thanks.]
[Nor will he be addressing whether Viv is fun size!] Trapeze?
P.S. Gus'll find the firefighter for him, some day. It was my coworkers who got me in there in the first place. Any appreciatin' will have to have between shifts, though.
Question: are rainbow pancakes a possibility or do they all just get that weird color of burnt-ish that pancakes get?
Like, I will give you the 30% regardless, I just wanna know if I should be ordering the specials to celebrate or if my celebration is better spent on a short stack with chocolate chips and whipped cream.
Miss? Don't get formal on me now. You seemed like a natural back there. Just in case, want me to swing by sometime so you can prove it wasn't a one time fluke? Nice night like this? I could use a ride.
If that's the pinnacle, what's the floor? [...] Wait. Stupid question. It's the floor.
I ain't disrespectin' him! Just wonderin' when he got the time to earn all those titles, with his busy schedule of nappin', throwin' a fit, nappin' some more, and tryin' to call a stegosaurus Gregory. (Don't ask me who taught him that one.) [User has his suspicions.] [...] What's a He's a what Just wonderin' what Little tall to be a backpack, ain't he? [User has thoughts about that, as well as Viv calling him massive. This is technically a work conversation, though. Technically.] Sorry to say, all of us can't be quite so short. [...] Well, if Gus doesn't, I'll poke my head in, first, make sure you don't have to see me on a warpath.
P.S. Gus ain't my type. 'Sides, I like to save my flirtin' for folks who appreciate it. ;)
Little man's earned those titles. I said so. Are you saying a dinosaur can't have a legal name? The stegosaurus got fucking blown up by a asteroid melting down the fucking planet, just for you to say thousands of years later that he couldn't be called Gregory. Rude.
I wasn't letting him drive my baby. His only option was to sit on the back and look pretty. And he did such a good job at it. [once again. user is aware this is public. she just doesn't give a fuck.]
I prefer fun size. Makes it easier for people to throw you around. When I'm on a trapeze, I mean. [user did not mean this, but it is why she's a flyer.] Sounds like a plan, Just Firefighter Kelly Brooks.
P.S. Gus will be crushed. He was breaking out the lacy lingerie just for you. Guess you'll just have to flirt with the more appreciative members of the Flipped team.
TIMING:Â Current
LOCATION:Â Flipped
PARTIES: @vivlennox & @danielabrams
SUMMARY: Another day, another dollar. Viv waits tables at Flipped, and Daniel stops by for a quick bite to eat after finishing a morning of work.
CONTENT WARNINGS: none!
Daniel glanced across the menu as he sat at one of the bar stools, keeping his distance from a few other patrons seated further away from him. He didnât usually go out to eat, and Flipped was not one of his typical diner spots. But after running a couple errands and working a quick odd job for some spare cash, he wasnât really in the mood to go home and cook something for himself. He even felt a bit too lazy to fix a sandwich. It wasnât as though some eggs and hash browns were going to break his budget. Probably.Â
A group of obnoxious guys sat at a booth in the corner farthest from Daniel, but their obnoxious hollering made him roll his eyes. He had hoped that coming to the diner at a weird timeâtoo late for breakfast, too early for lunchâwould mean that it would be mostly empty, hopefully just him and one or two other people, so he was already annoyed when he walked in and spotted the group at the table. He couldâve sworn they were throwing jam and jelly cups at each other. Whatever. Not his problem. He just needed a quick meal and heâd be on his way home.Â
He kept his focus on deciding if he wanted an omelette or just keep it simple with some eggs. Very tough decision. Somehow figuring out what to cook for dinner came easier to him than looking at a menu with all sorts of options. He heard someone approaching him, and he looked up to see the server standing on the opposite side of the bar. âOh hey,â he greeted, as he put the menu down on the counter. âHow are you?â Always had to throw in that southern nicety before jumping right into placing an order.Â
â
The brothers of Beta Theta Omicron (or BOO, and Viv referred to them) were at it again. Of the organizations that frequented the diner, they were public enemy number one. For the most part, Viv didnât care about the college kids and their antics. The undergrads barely counted as adults, and no where was it more evident than in that particular subspecies of college student than it was in the Frat Bro. They traveled in packs, and spoke in a parlance she could only call Bro-ese. They observed strange rituals, like forcing the weakest among them to hit on the waitress. Or, like today, playing paper football with jelly packets.Â
The perpetual tick in her cheek from forcing her face into a smile was back. Viv glanced at the clock as she made her way to the counter top to help her next customer. Twenty minutes until she could take a break. She could make it twenty minutes. She stopped in front of the man at the barstool, clicking her pen as she prepared to launch into the usual spiel, when the man beat her to the draw. Viv blinked. Manners. She felt like a person roasting to death in the desert, hallucinating a cozy lagoon on the horizon. âOh I amâŚâ Ready to bitch slap a bunch of twenty year olds. âDoing. Iâm Viv, Iâll be your waitress today. What can I get started for ya?â Across the diner, a jelly packet went flying across the room, hitting the Wall of Shame with a smack. Her eyes narrowed, the smile on her face turning into more of a snarl. She forced herself to take a breath before refocusing on the man in front of her.
 â
He nodded as he noticed her looking over towards the obnoxious group of guys in the corner. He could not blame what looked like a snarl on her face, as he understood that feeling all too well from dealing with obnoxious clients sometimes. Usually his clients were okay, but fuck, sometimes they made him question the whole humans need to be protected thing that he was supposed to believe in. âYeah, water to start, and I already know what I want to eat,â he replied, keeping it quick. âThe Flippinâ Flaptastic,â (he felt ridiculous saying that out loud), âOmelette. Ainât wanting no sides.âÂ
Daniel overheard the guys yelling about something, and he grimaced as a shrill yell rang through his head. âWhat the fuck is wrong with them,â he grumbled as he turned his head to look back towards the table. One of the guys dabbed at jelly on his shirt, from one of the thrown packets spilling out on him. Daniel rolled his eyes at first until he noticed something dripping down the wall right behind their booth. He narrowed his eyes as he looked closer at the red splotches winding down the wall before dripping onto the back of the head of one of the guys. The red didnât look like jelly packets from the guys throwing them around, and it looked much similar to scenes that he stumbled onto many times in his life.
He turned to face the waitressâhe glanced down at her nametag and saw Vivâbut before he could say anything, a sudden shake moved through the building, or well, the train. The old train creaked and groaned, and his body flung forward against the counter as though the train was moving. The obnoxious guys stopped their chatter as even they glanced around the room in confusion, finally aware of their surroundings. âWhat the shit?â Daniel mumbled as he stood up from the stool, as he glanced around trying to decide what to do next.Â
 â
Viv suppressed a snort at the sound of the manâs chagrined drawl ordering his omelette. She ought to thank whoever had been in charge of naming the menu items, if only for providing her with fleeting moments of entertainment throughout her shift. âOmelette with none of the fixings, coming up.â She said, scribbling it out on her note pad before clicking the pen. The woman actually snorted at his grumbling, her eyes narrowing in on the pack of feral frat animals at their table. âPretty sure they traded in their brains for the opportunity to believe women will actually think theyâre six foot.âÂ
She missed the way the manâs face changed as he honed in on the finer details of the diner. Viv had grown so used to its eccentricities that she hardly paid them any mind. The blood and the vanishing photos and the occasional train ride were just a part of Flippedâs weird and wacky charm. And she was more focused on the customers, anyhow. She heard a tell tale creak from somewhere back by the kitchen, and grabbed hold of the counter before the old train car came to life.Â
The man straightened up as he got used to the bustling of the restaurant. âFirst time in?â She asked, the expression on her face the closest thing she could muster to a sympathetic smile. âItâs an old diner car.â Viv said, as though the dinerâs past life explained why it felt like the building was suddenly reliving the glory days.Â
â
âBeen here just a couple times prior,â Daniel replied as he eyed her over. Whatever was going on happened often enough that she seemed nonchalant about the situation. He had swung by Flipped just a few times in the past, but those times had been to grab a pickup order and be on his way. He never stuck around in the diner to eat his food.Â
But her explanation gave him little to work with, as if it being an old diner car explained the blood dripping down the walls. He glanced back as one of the guys tried convincing the others that it was just jelly. Daniel grimacedâwhy was he judging in disgust? It wasnât as if he hadnât ever licked strange blood ⌠off someone elseâand turned back towards Viv. âOld diner car ainât gonna explain none of that,â he said, motioning with his thumb over his shoulder towards the bloody wall. âAinât got a working engine either, Iâm assuming?â he asked. He glanced out one of the windows to watch as the dining car picked up speed. The dining car passed by his truck, parked out in the lot, and trees passed by in a blur as the car sped off. âSo, does this thing travel the same way each time or does it keep it exciting for you?â
â
âGotcha. Never had the full Flipped experience, then.â She said, doing her best not to laugh at the sort of bewildered expression on the manâs face. âRelax, weâre not actually moving. Itâs an illusion or something. Itâd be a huge pain in the ass if someone checked out and went to leave and their carâs parked twenty minutes away.â The first time Viv had experienced that particular quirk of the dinersâ, sheâd been elated. It seemed to carry her right across the town line. When sheâd ran for the door to see if she was truly free of the little New England town, she found herself in the Flipped parking lot, staring at her parked motorcycle. âNope. Just the diner car. Donât ask me how it works, I just take orders.âÂ
Viv glanced out the window, her stomach souring at the sight of the edge of town passing by in the distance. She swore the restaurant enjoyed taunting her. âIt has its favorite routes. But every once in a while it changes up. The other day it went down every side street in Oldtown.â She clicked her pen and tucked it up into the tangle of a bun at the top of her head. âAlright, anything other than the water? You want coffee?âÂ
â
âGuess not,â he said, as he carefully relaxed into his seat. At least she didnât seem all that worried about whatever was happening around them. Sometimes he had to remind himself that this sort of bullshit just happened in Wickedâs Rest for whatever reason. âHuh,â he said, once again looking out the windows and watching the town fly by past them. Daniel swore that they were actually movingâeverything about the speed of the town zipping past them and the feeling of being in a moving vehicle made him think as much. Heâd hopped onto freight trains plenty of times in his life, and this all felt just too real to him. If Daniel had sensed anything, heâd swear this was some sort of weird bugbear trick, one that really mastered their skills, but nothing pointed him in that direction. âGuess I ainât gonna worry about it,â he replied with a curt nod. He tapped his fingers against the counter, almost as if he was making sure it was real.Â
âCoffee is fine,â he answered absently, his eyes still watching the town speed past them. They were seemingly heading out of town entirely, and Daniel realized that he hadnât left the state of Maine since arriving here. He had so many opportunities and reasons to leave. He almost wondered if it made sense to go on a trip sometime. Maybe catch an actual train heading down south ⌠âStill fucking weird that it just does this,â he said, finally drawing his eyes away from the windows. âLeast I ainât gotta worry about hiking all the way back to my truck. Or hitching a ride.âÂ
They sped through a wooded area, and if the light in the illusion was right, he guessed they were heading south, as if this illusion read his mind. âYou ever wonder if itâs real?â he asked, as it all looked more and more realistic to him. âDamn good illusion.â Too good. But Daniel resisted the urge to investigate it further. If he wasnât hungry and tired, maybe he would poke around more at the mechanics of this place and figure out what magical entity was casting this type of impressive illusion.Â
â
âBetter to sit back and just tolerate it.â Viv agreed, her nails digging into her palms as she watched the scene outside speed into the wilderness south of town. She hated when the train went this way. âWorst youâve got to worry about is the damn thing giving you motion sickness.â She set off to finding the coffee pot before she screamed. Viv watched the steam curl out of the mug as she poured out a mug for the man, and let the too-hot handle and the overwhelming coffee smell distract her. It was fine.Â
But of course he had to ask a follow up. âNo.â She said flatly. Viv knew it wasnât real. After that first fleeting moment of hope had been crushed, sheâd never thought the scenes outside the windows of Flipped were real. âI donât know how they did it. My theory is they got some theme park guy to come do it up for them.â She shrugged. âBut they donât pay me the big bucks for that. Just to deal with those idiots.â She sighed, jerking her chin in the direction of the table who were now blessedly distracted by the windows. Like jingling keys in front of a bay. âCan I get you anything else while you wait?â
â
âAh, ainât gonna have to worry about motion sickness. I think. I used to work on a fishing boat a few years back. Sometimes weâd be out there for a week or longer.â Why Daniel suddenly had the urge to share that was beyond him. He wasnât even certain if heâd ever told Talia about his fishing boat days. If he had, it was just a brief mention before moving on to some other topic. It had been just a brief stint while tracking the berserker along the east coast, when he ended up in a little fishing town right on the coast. He didnât have any actual fisherman experience, beyond fishing for pleasure, but it paid under the table and gave him time to keep searching for the berserker until it moved to the next town, with him not too far behind it.Â
His mind was back though, thinking about how he had spent the last few years going farther and farther north, never returning back down to Virginia. He glanced down into the coffee mug, as if that held any answers for him. âEh, yeah, just add it to the list of nonsense in this town, I guess,â he said. In any other situation, Daniel wouldâve attempted to explain away the magical bullshit and act like there was some sort of logical, non-supernatural reasoning for it. But the server dealt with this all the time. No reason to even bother acting like it was strange. âDoubt theyâre paying you the big bucks for the idiots either.â He took a sip of the coffee and shook his head. âNo, thank you.â The dining car seemed to slow down for a moment and make a sharp curve. He looked out the window and watched as it seemingly turned around and headed back up from where it came. âGuess weâre heading back now though. Well ⌠you know what I mean.âÂ
â
âMust have been nice,â Viv mused, trying not to sound too jealous. God, what she wouldnât fucking give to see anything other than Wickedâs Rest for even twenty four hours. But even if she stole a boat and sailed it out onto the cold Maine waters, sheâd hit a point where the boat would stop sailing, or the engine would stall, or some invisible force would push her overboard, and sheâd sink down beneath the waves and be part of the ungodly hell hole of a town for forever.
Viv snorted as she glanced back at the table of dipshits. They were debating something in hushed tones, all pointing at one another. âYeah, youâre right. But no amount of bitching about them will get me a raise.â She shrugged, watching as the scene outside made a sharp turn back toward the town.Â
She was distracted from their conversation by two things: the bell ringing to announce an order was up, and one of the idiots at the table of frat boys was now creeping toward the ooze with his tongue out. âFuckingâŚâ she muttered, shaking her head. She coughed, and looked at her customer with a clenched-jaw smile to hide the exhausted ire of a woman about to murder several undergraduates. âIâm gonna go get your order in, excuse me for a second.â Viv grabbed a straw from her apron pocket as she walked toward the idiot attempting to lick the ooze, tipped the tip of the paper packaging off, and shot the straw wrapper at the young manâs head. She glowered, pointing one chipped black fingernail back to his table wordlessly. He had the good sense to look ashamed, and Viv turned off to run her tables. By the time she returned with his order, the frat boys had cleared out, leaving behind a measly tip consisting of a few crinkly singles and a smattering of quarters. âAlright, here we are. Flippinâ Fantastic, no sides.âÂ
â
âIt was okay,â he replied with a shrug. It was kind of nice, at first, doing something different from his usual outdoors guide work, but being out on the water for long periods of time made him miss land. Miss the mountains. Miss his hometown. Miss a lot of things, when he really thought about it. It was as if being on the open water made Daniel realize just how lonesome he was. Easier to get back to land, to feel the earth and hear the breeze in the trees, to make it easier to escape those feelings. He may not have gotten seasick, but he certainly felt some other type of sickness deep inside him.Â
Even now, nothing was really stopping him from leaving Wickedâs Rest. He could pack up his things, hop in his truck, and visit his family whenever he wanted. He doubted they left that old cabin. The road there would grow familiar at a certain point, and he could drive those curves with his eyes closed.Â
Daniel caught that tired, frustrated look in her eyesâa look he knew all too well from his own customer service experiences. Maybe his customers were a bit different, but he still ran into those obnoxious people who complained about any minor inconvenience or acted like it was their first time stepping outside. As if bugs were a brand new concept to them. He snorted as he watched her blow the straw wrapper at one of the guys. His food arrived, and he chuckled for a moment. âThanks. Yeah, fuck, forgot how stupid of a name that is,â he said. âAnyway, glad theyâre gone, and Iâll be out of your hair too in no time.âÂ
â
Viv let out an unladylike snort as she set down some extra napkins. âDonât tell Gus. Heâs proud of those stupid ass names.â She grabbed hot sauce and ketchup from a neighboring booth and set it down alongside his order. âYou stay as long as you want. Youâre no trouble. The fââ She caught herself getting too comfortable. She swallowed down the vitriol and sucked in a long breath through her nose. âThe friends that left me with three and a half bucks are gone. And weâre rapidly approaching the afternoon slump.âÂ
The bell above the door jangled cheerfully as the scene outside was rolling back up on the restaurantâs address. An older couple with crepe paper skin and smile lines a mile deep shuffled in, blinking owlishly at the sight of the old diner car. At least it wasnât more frat bros. âBe right with you!â Viv called over with a forced smile, her hopes for a break bursting like a soap bubble. She tightened her ponytail as she glanced back at her present customer. âSpoke too soon. Back to work⌠You enjoy. If you need anything in the meantime, give me a holler.â Viv straightened her shoulders, making her way over to the hostess stand to grab some menus, and ushered the couple to a seat, pretending all the while that this was exactly where she wanted to be.
How can time be the enemy? It's so important to everything. That's how we can tell whether something matters or not to us, or whether something is pleasant or not.
Alright I read that seriously first, so you've definitely made me snort. Good job. That was not easy.
[pm] When you're stuck in one place, and you're right where everyone fucking left you. You're not the only one who can be fucking depressing and philisophical.
I'll let my Da know I have a career as a really bitchy clown when I get back home. He'll be fucking elated. Jokes aside, you need to go out. Fucking burn the sad shit out of your system. Dance, or party, or scream sing some cathartic ass song in the club, or have a fucking rebound.
Can't relate. Time's my fucking enemy. Rather have a billion fucking distractions.
Peachy keen. Fucking spectacular. Flappy's still defying the fucking odds. Had to indirectly threaten some jackass who taped a bunch of spoons together in an attempt to try and knock him off the ceiling. Life couldn't be better.
[...] Read that last bit with a fucking lethal amount of sarcasm.
[pm] Oh no, that has nothing to do with the weather. I felt inspired by personal events, if you really want to know everything. Weird way to cope, I suppose, but historical research always helps.
[pm] Fuck, that blows. Sorry dude. You Anne Boleyn or the fuckass Tudor guy in this scenario? No such thing as a weird way to cope. If it works, it fucking works.
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