whimmortal

[whimmortal]

TIMING: immediately after this. LOCATION: jenny's apartment. PARTIES: @whimmortal & @bazzledazzle. SUMMARY: back at jenny's place, baz gives jenny a supernatural 101, and jenny shares her dreams with baz. CONTENT WARNINGS: brief mentions of past domestic abuse.

After the two had successfully devoured brunch (and then some), Jenny and Baz had taken an Uber ride home. It would have been ill-advised to drive for either of them, considering the uncountable amount of mimosas thrown back, and so a driver had ended with a giggling, delirious pair in their backseat. One short ride later, a gigantic tip left by Jenny because she thought the driver looked absolutely charming (it was a look of annoyance he’d worn), the two had stumbled over the threshold of her home.

It was nice to see Baz in her house. She eyed them from where she stood in the kitchen, bathing in fridge light. It wasn’t even close to evening, but she felt like it was late into the night with how the world swam around her. The food had sobered her up somewhat, but her state of mind was also impacted by the way Baz had let her in on some secrets. Jenny felt feverish with it all. She stared back at the fridge, produced two cans of some expensive craft soda and returned to the living room.

Edward had judged her visitor and deemed them a good one (unlike Metzli, from which he had cowered) and she grinned. “He likes ya,” she said, handing over the can. “If you want snacks, shout — I’m stuffed myself.” She had done quite the number on those brunch dishes. She sank onto the couch, tucking one leg underneath her body and leaning towards Baz. “So … what are you?”

—

The buzzing beneath Baz’s skin had very little to do with the mimosas they’d consumed, even if their quiet giggling could probably be blamed on the alcohol warming their chest. Brunch with Jenny had been everything they’d hoped for, from the mimosas to the conversation. Jenny was open about herself and her thoughts, and Baz liked that. They’d learned a great deal more about her, and about what she knew. It was always fascinating to learn that someone was more than what you thought they were. It was more exciting when someone was fascinated by you. 

Baz settled onto her couch, grinning as her dog approached them. “Well, lovely to meet you, Edward!” He greeted, remembering the name she’d mentioned back at the restaurant. Baz found other people’s pets charming. They were cute, they were soft, and Baz didn’t have to assume any sort of responsibility towards them. It was a good combination, and he put a hand on Edward’s head absently as the dog sat beside them, scratching him between the ears. 

As Jenny approached, they turned the grin towards her instead. “He’s got good taste, then.” They took the soda, making note of the brand. They weren’t familiar with the taste, but they were familiar with the price tag, and that was something they valued much more, anyway. “I think I’m all good on snacks for now. Brunch was lovely, wasn’t it?” Jenny, though, didn’t seem interested in small talk. Her question was blunt, to the point, and a little refreshing. Baz’s grin widened just a little. “Nothing you’d have read about, I don’t think. My sort fly a bit more under the radar than the zombies and werewolves of the world.” There was no attempt at denial, no urge to claim they were human. They’d already implied they were something else with the amount of knowledge they had, hadn’t they? “I’m a kind of fae. That’s why I know as much about them as I do. I’m called a doppelganger. Means I can wear any face I like.” They winked, grinning. “I could show you, if you want.”

—

Everything was falling into place again. There had been a slight hiccup, a momentary lapse where Jenny had let fear in to bring her down, but she was back in action again. She was successfully investigating the supernatural and having fun doing it. If only every discovery could go hand in hand with mimosas! It would make everything seem more comedic, which might derive from her lifestory’s grittiness, but it would certainly make it easier to not be brought down by fear.

But Jenny knew it was about balance. In life, as well as in fiction, you needed a bit of both tragedy and comedy. She was just glad today swayed more towards the comedic side of things, with the literal airy bubbliness of champagne thrown in the mix. “He does,” she said, because she wasn’t the type to pretend she didn’t like someone when she did. Honestly, she was more the opposite — though Baz she did genuinely like. “It was brilliant. Love me a good brunch. I am expecting now, though. Pregnant with a food baby — are you ready for parenthood?” She grinned.

Baz was not shying away from the topic at hand, the big elephant (or whatever they were) in the room addressed as they started explaining. They were a fae, which was more obscure to her than the other creatures she already had knowledge about, but as they named themself she smiled. “Oh, like in the Vampire Diaries?” Jenny let out a short giggle, then shook her head — “No, doesn’t sound like it. Those were … it doesn’t matter.” The doppelgangers there weren’t able to wear any face, and even so, it would seem foolish to put lore next to lore now. She could do that in her own time. She nodded eagerly. “I would love to see. I … that sounds amazing.”

—

Baz had never really done this sort of thing before, never played guide to someone only just discovering the world of the supernatural. Typically, when they interacted with humans, they were busy pretending to be one themself. They were immersing themself in the culture of it, letting the buzz of excitement that humanity seemed to feel towards just about everything rush through them. It was a sort of exercise in performing arts, in a way; Baz put on a different kind of mask and pretended they belonged, and humanity accepted it because they didn’t know to question it at all. Sometimes, their true nature came up, but not typically around humans. It was usually that another fae sensed them, a quiet trade of information between two people who both carried a secret. This was different. 

And it was exciting. 

Was this the sort of thing Baz ought to do more often, then? Introduce humanity to their world, let themself thrive as the center of a person’s attention so long as they were their best source of information? Something told them it wouldn’t always be as fun as it was with Jenny, though. She was more open minded than other humans seemed to be, less frightened. And certainly more fun. Baz laughed at her antics, splaying their fingers across their chest with an expression of feigned shock. “Well, that’s an awful lot of responsibility, isn’t it? I’d have to think it over on my way out to grab a carton of milk.” 

Another laugh burst from their chest at the comparison. “Not much like that at all,” they replied. “They made it a bit boring, didn’t they? Stuck with one face? Whoever wrote that one wasn’t as in the know as they might have thought.” Or maybe they were a bit too in the know. Baz supposed it was possible that some of the more far off pieces of supernatural media were written by people who knew about this world and wanted to make sure everyone else thought it a work of fiction. In any case, Jenny’s interest in them was far more important than any television show or theory surrounding it, and Baz flashed her a grin. “Gladly,” they replied. “Mind if I borrow your face? I’ll need to touch you first.” It felt strange to ask, because they’d never done that before. Still, they didn’t want to risk offending Jenny when they were having so much fun with her, and so asking permission seemed the best way to go about things. If she said no, Baz could pull another face from somewhere. They still had the tall, violent Swedish man squirreled away, after all.

—

Baz knew the Vampire Diaries and didn’t chastise her for jumping on a questionable pop culture reference, which made Jenny feel relieved. Referring to the world through a fictional lens was not always recommendable, but it certainly helped sometimes. Especially as she learned about vampires, zombies, werewolves and now even fae. Comparing it to the worlds she’d gotten to know in books and television just made it all easier to digest, but she understood that it could be seen as fanciful, if not downright stupid. 

“And it was more like a reincarnation type thing, anyway … the only reason those people existed at the same time was through vampirism, not because of … well, your magic.” Fae magic, she reminded herself, which she had no idea about. Jenny had tried to google a little bit in the ride to her house, but she’d mostly been focused on Baz. They stole attention in a way she didn’t mind, because they did tend to return it to her all the same. It was electric, the way they talked to and around each other, every sentence charged with something. Intrigue, humor, creativity, challenge. She was glad that their brunch hadn’t ended with a bill paid, but was continuing here.

Baz asked if they could touch her and it was strange, certainly. The two of them had ended up at the other’s house twice now, but neither time it had been with the intention of what was usually implied with bringing someone home after a meeting. And it wasn’t for lack of attraction or because Jenny had become abstinent, there had just been too much to talk about last time and this time she doubted it would be much different. Still, it was so sweet to be asked, as if there wasn’t some kind of energy charged in the air. She supposed it was also sweet to be asked if her face could be used, though she didn’t analyze that one too much. If she started thinking about supernatural beings that hadn’t asked permission, she might spiral. “I don’t mind, not you borrowing my face nor you touching me.” She extended her hand, wondering if it would be enough and feeling giddy with excitement.

—

They hummed, nodding their head. They hadn’t gotten as into the vampire fad as some people had, but Baz certainly hadn’t been immune to the allure of the genre. Perhaps it had been less exciting for them than it might have been for others, because Baz had known that it was real. Vampires seemed incredibly sexy and mysterious on paper, but when your father’s lawyer was a centuries old vampire who droned on and on about paperwork when all you’d wanted was a quick bit of legal advice, they lost a bit of the appeal. (There were other things that threatened that appeal, too, of course. The thought of Metzli throwing them to the ground and holding a knife to them, threatening their life should they ever step foot in their gallery again was one that lingered, even as Baz attempted to blink it away. No. The boring lawyer was easier to swallow, and so they pulled it back to the surface. They preferred boredom to violence by miles.)

“No,” they replied, “without the vampirism of it all, their doppelgangers wouldn’t have added much to the lore at all, would they? Just people born centuries apart who look the same. They might as well be Keanu Reeves.” There was the rumor that he himself was a vampire, but Baz wasn’t sure he believed such things. Vampires tended to want to stay out of the spotlight where possible. Most immortals did. Baz was lucky — they could simply change their face as needed, avoid any suspicion that way. That simply wasn’t the case for most. 

Of course, the shifting came in handy for more reasons than just that, too. The look on Jenny’s face was one they’d like to bottle. She seemed awestruck, was staring at them as if they were something wonderful. Baz had been appreciated for their physical appearance before, of course, especially in this form. Sebastian was a handsome man, and Baz knew how to wield that attractiveness with a bit more confidence than their roommate had ever boasted even if he hadn’t been humble, either. But Jenny’s expression wasn’t tied to the way they looked. It was about what they were. She looked at them with wide eyes, and they’d painted her before but they found themself tempted to do it again, anyway, just to capture the expression. They didn’t have a brush or canvas here, though, so they would do the next best thing.

Reaching out, they took her hand and let whatever part of themself claimed a person’s features come to the surface. They’d been told that the person they touched felt nothing when this happened and, truthfully, it didn’t feel like much to Baz, either. It was a piece slotting into place, but nothing substantial. It wasn’t like the moment you solved a puzzle, when the final piece slid to where it belonged. It anything, it was more like one of the hundreds of pieces in the middle — a momentary satisfaction forgotten the second your hand pulled away. Baz let Jenny’s features crawl onto their own face, their skin rippling and lightening, their hair growing, their body shifting. It took seconds, because Baz was good at it. They’d had practice. One moment, Baz sat in front of Jenny. The next, Jenny sat beside herself, a perfect copy. Baz flashed her own grin back to her, lifting their arms — and hers, where he still held her hand — into the air. “Lovely face to wear, I’d say.” Her voice came out of their mouth, American accent and all. “What do you think?”

—

“Exactly! Makes you wonder if they even were doppelgangers, or if it was just a case of a genetic lottery or something. There are plenty of people who look similar who aren’t doppelgangers, right? Or are McKenna Grace and that other blonde actress also like you? Well, one of them I guess.” She frowned, considering the other celebrities that looked alike. Keanu Reeves was on her vampire suspicion list, though. “And I mean, Keanu is definitely one. His vibes and everything are so vampire-y in the best way, don’t you think?” Jenny was ready to discuss this topic for at least an hour, should Baz be interested. There were plenty of conspiracies to form about famous people now that she knew vampires (zombies, werewolves and fae) were real.

But there was something much more exciting waiting for her. They could talk at length about potential vampires, but there was someone sitting on her couch who was confirmed supernatural. A new kind of supernatural, one she had not come across yet. Her entire body seemed to buzz with excitement, her eyes taking in the other as they took her hand. The touch was sweet enough, but she did not focus on it too much. Her eyes were focused on the other, wide and curious.

What she saw happened quick and was over too fast, but it was glorious. Baz’ features made way for her own, and there was a snapshot moment where they seemed a messed up blend of both her and them. Jenny gasped, watching as her features rose to the surface and how it extended to their hair, to their body. They became shorter, their shoulders didn’t fit in their shirt as well any more and they looked like her.

Jenny watched her features move as Baz spoke, saw the movement of her body while she sat still and frozen with awe. “Holy shit,” she said, “This is — this is like that inverted filter— is that what I look like?” There was a slight look of displeasure on her face, her awe going hand in hand with a bit of self hatred. What Baz had done was magnificent, but why was her left eyebrow arched that way? “Oh this is — this is crazy, I — you even sound like me. This is a headfuck.” Jenny let out a laugh, leaning closer to look at herself. It was not at all like looking in the mirror, because Baz moved on their own accord and did not have her mannerisms. “That is really fucking cool.”

—

“Right! It’s a pretty well-documented phenomenon. And it won’t be fae, in most cases. We like to stay out of documentation, for the most part.” They considered the question of actresses, shrugging. “Never met them, so I suppose I can’t say for sure. I’d wager no, though. If any of us make it big, we do it by pretending to be human.” That was what Baz intended to do, when their art someday broke containment and wound up in galleries across the world. To flaunt your inhumanity was to invite people who would take advantage of it in one way or another, be it wardens or humans who were just a touch too curious. Hadn’t they all heard horror stories of human scientists desperate to understand how something supernatural worked, after all? 

“I don’t think he’d put himself in the public eye, is the thing. Or that he’d have made it this long if he did. That’d be a right trophy kill, I’m sure.” Hunters did that sort of thing, didn’t they? Bragged about kills? Most of Baz’s assumptions of them were based on rumor rather than experience, of course; they’d had very few run-ins themself. But this was a tidbit that sounded interesting, and so they’d believe it as the truth. They’d do anything to make the world a touch more interesting, even when one could argue that the world didn’t exactly need any help.

They liked to make other people’s worlds more interesting, too. They certainly seemed to be doing just that for Jenny, who seemed ecstatic at their quick transformation. They didn’t often change faces in front of people, though not because they had anything against it. It was a bit like getting naked — doing it in front of a stranger without any reason behind it felt just a little odd. Doing it in front of someone who’d asked you to, and who was excited by the results, however… 

Jenny seemed equally pleased and displeased with the results. Baz supposed it would be odd, staring at yourself through something that wasn’t a mirror or a photograph. It wasn’t something they could relate to, of course, because they had no real self to see. They’d seen their current go-to face seated across from them countless times when it had been Sebastian’s, knew every quirk of the brow and twist of the lips. They couldn’t wear a face without seeing it first, given the fact that they needed physical contact to achieve the look. They couldn’t relate to what Jenny was feeling in any sort of way, but they could imagine it. 

“You’re very beautiful,” they told her with a shrug and a grin. “And you’ve got a nice voice. I’d take your face for more of a spin if I didn’t think you were already wearing it perfectly on your own.” She wasn’t someone who they felt was undeserving of her good looks, though they often felt as much about other people. (Usually people who they felt wronged them in some way, like the Swedish man in the alley.) “If you had any sort of abilities, I could replicate those, too. The supernatural sort, not the learned skills. I’d still need practice for anything like that.” 

— 

“There’s a fair bit of folklore about you guys though, right? I’ve definitely heard of fae before. Not as much popular fiction I guess. But you had a species in the Sims if I recall right,” she said, smirking a little. “That must be wild, actually.” Jenny definitely saw the humor in being part of a subtype of supernaturals that preferred to be more mysterious and then ending up as a monetized expansion pack. EA was a true villain. She considered Baz’ words for a moment. “Right, right, you’re not human …” They still looked very human to her. Just like, a human with some extra sprinkles. Human+ or something like that. Human with an expansion pack.

Her expression changed fast and she grimaced. “Are you hinting at like … slayers and stuff? Maybe it’s for the best that Keanu isn’t a vampire then. I don’t want some bitch with a stake to kill him.” She shook her head at the thought of Keanu Reeves exploding into dust, hoping he could just stick to having vampy vibes. “Still, it’d be ironic. Considering his role in Dracula and all…”

She continued to stare at herself, in complete awe of the swiftness and precision with which Baz had executed it. Maybe they were a little more than Human+, then. This was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before, and even though that could be said about a lot of things Jenny had experienced these past months this felt wholly new. There was nothing about this that felt intrusive – even if Baz had taken her face – or violent. Nothing dangerous about it, and yet it was still exciting.

Maybe that meant she trusted Baz, to a certain extent. A funny thought.

“Oh,” she said, a little taken aback. Baz’ compliments were made so casually that she told herself not to feel flustered, but it was all in all a hard situation not to get flustered in. Being told by someone who looked exactly like you that you were beautiful was just flustering. She sometimes told herself the same thing when staring in the mirror, but it was always paired with her own convictions and expressions, and not Baz’ easy tone. “God, this is a headfuck.” She let out a nervous laugh that turned more genuine, hands covering her face for a moment before she looked back up. “Thanks.”

Baz was angling for something, opening up the floor to confess any supernatural abilities she had. “I’m just human,” she said, “No expansion packs, no human+ …” She looked almost mournful, then realized that those terms were just ones she’d come up with in her head. Jenny chuckled, “But I wanna get that expansion, I guess.”

—

“A bit,” they confirmed with a thoughtful hum. “Most of it’s more… nonspecific, though. Especially in popular culture. They mix and match, I suppose. Take the appearance and size of a pixie, put it together with the nature of a nymph, throw in a few bits and bobs from other things… It’s not like with vampires or werewolves, where people have almost figured it out. There’s reason for it, of course. My lot are more secretive. Some of them don’t even trust other fae with the details.” Banshees came to mind there. Baz knew next to nothing about them. Really, they only knew that they existed, and that they were screamers. Anything beyond that was guesswork that they didn’t care to do. “Not human, no. But I can make it so I’ve got all the bits of one.” They punctuated the statement with a wink and a grin.

It was interesting, they thought, that she knew enough to know of hunters. Baz wondered where she’d learned it, wondered if she had someone else feeding her facts, too. They nodded at the question. “Right, that’s what they’re called for the undead, I suppose. Bit too early 2000s emo for me, yeah? Slayers. Sounds like they ought to be in a mosh pit or something.” It was easier to make fun of hunters than it was to admit that they scared Baz just a little. “It would be a bit ironic. Maybe he is one, and he just utilizes the ‘hiding in plain sight’ strategy.” It would probably be a stupid strategy to use, given hunters’ ability to sense the things they hunted, but Baz would respect the boldness of it all the same.

Boldness, after all, was a thing to be rewarded. The way Jenny stared at them now — studying her own face as it sat on Baz, a look of wonder in her eyes — felt like a reward all its own. They wondered if it was strange for her, then assumed it must have been. She reacted well, in any case; much better than the angry man in the alley who’d taken his own face as something of an affront. 

They laughed as she called it a headfuck, the sound rising up into the air and fluttering around their head. Jenny had a nice laugh, too. It was fun to push it from their own chest. “I can change into something else, if you’d like,” they offered. “Back to my usual, or to someone else I’ve got tucked away.” They’d gathered up more than a few, from London to Wicked’s Rest. Sebastian’s still felt the most comfortable, the most them. They suspected it always would, now that they’d stuck with it for so long.

Jenny had no extra abilities to speak of, which Baz had sort of suspected. Usually, you could feel them just beneath the surface if they were there, and they felt none in Jenny’s form. It was interesting to hear her continue, though, and Baz tilted their head to the side with a curious gleam in their eyes. “Yeah? Which expansion are you eyeing? There are certainly some interesting ones out there.”

—

She tried to imagine what the world was like for Baz’ kind and it was almost like being a child again. All those days she’d wasted away in childhood, imagining herself to be something more than human — an elf or a witch or sure, a nymph. But it was different now, because now Jenny knew that there were people out there for whom that kind of world was a reality. “That makes sense … like maybe humans have picked up a bit of truth here and there but bastardized it, right? Seems fitting for them.” Them being humans, but the type of humans she didn’t think herself apart of. “Are there a lot of fae out there like you? Is your whole family doppelgangers too?” She wondered how that worked, with genes and all. Not that she understood how most of that worked with regular humans.

She giggled at Baz’ analysis, nodding, “Absolutely, you’re right. I mean, I love Buffy and so I don’t mind the term, but it does sound very emo. Though I guess it also sounds kind of fabulous, right? Like slay, honey.” She flicked her wrist, then added in a more serious tone: “Do you have to deal with stuff like that?” She wasn’t very good at being concerned about others, especially not when it came to them possibly being hunted for one reason or another. She didn’t have much experience in that area. 

But she didn’t want that for Baz, that much she knew. And it wasn’t just because they looked like her in that moment, and the idea of them being hunted meant her being hunted in a way. She picked up a strand of her hair (on her own head) and twirled it around her finger, trying to continue to make sense of what she was seeing.

Hearing, too — Baz laughed and it sounded like her. “Is that what I sound like when I laugh?” Jenny felt herself get even more flustered, but she didn’t entirely hate her laugh. “It’s so weird to hear yourself talk.” She grew excited. “Not that I’m not enjoying this but yes, show me more — I want to see another face! And you can go back to normal – I guess? – whenever you want, of course, but more, please, please!” 

Baz wasn’t chastizing her yet, which was promising. She adjusted herself on the couch a little, sitting up as if she was about to confess a massive sin or reveal a dark truth about herself. “Vampire,” she said, “I want to be a vampire.” Saying it out loud made it feel whimsical, but not any less true. She held her breath, watching Baz in anticipation of their reaction.

—

She didn’t seem offended with the way Baz spoke of humans, which wasn’t a surprise but was something of a relief. Sometimes, humans took things personally. You made a broad statement about their kind and they assumed it was about them, specifically. Jenny didn’t seem the type, but it was a relief all the same. It would be hard to have this sort of conversation with someone who took things to heart like that, after all. And speaking of taking things to heart… Baz bristled a bit at the question of their family, recovering quickly enough but perhaps noticeable all the same. “Don’t know if I have any sort of biological family,” they admitted. “I was raised by other fae, but they weren’t like me. I don’t know where I was before they found me, if I was anything at all. There are other doppelgangers out there, but I’ve never met one. I don’t suppose I’d care much if I did, honestly. I’m not one of those sorts who can only find companionship with someone who’s like me, yeah? I’ll get along with anyone who gets along with me. Don’t care what they’re built from.” 

Jenny laughed, and Baz preened a little. They liked that she agreed with them, liked that she found their jokes funny. They found her jokes funny, too, laughing as she flicked her wrist. “Don’t think I’ve ever met a slayer who takes that sort of slaying seriously. I might like them if I did. That’s the sort of slay I’d like to see more of. Not the stabbing sort.” Unless whatever undead thing a slayer was stabbing was a threat to Baz, of course. They could appreciate the usefulness of hunters so long as it wasn’t them the hunter was after. 

Of course, sometimes it was them that the hunter was after. They clicked their tongue at Jenny’s question, nodding their head with a roll of their eyes. “From time to time. The ones that come after my sort are called wardens. I’m good at laying low, mostly, so they haven’t been much of a problem for me.” Their father had paid them off back when they’d lived with him, and they’d mostly skirted by on luck since. “Had a run in with one just after I came to town, but haven’t seen him crop up again, so maybe something else got him. That sort of thing happens often with them, you know. You usually only have to wait them out.” Hunters died sooner rather than later, in most cases. Baz knew that. Sometimes, Baz took comfort in that, even if it probably wasn’t particularly kind. They didn’t think it was unkind, either, though. There was nothing wrong with being invested in your own survival. 

Jenny seemed to be having a good time seeing herself, which Baz couldn’t blame her for. She had a nice face, a good one to see. Her laugh, too, was one the doppelganger enjoyed. “It’s a good laugh,” they told her, flashing a grin. “But if you’d like to see more…” They held up a finger, and the version of Jenny’s face that Baz wore twisted and collapsed and was rebuilt into something new instead. A woman they’d met only in passing in a cemetery, who’d fought off a few reanimated parts for them. It was a nice face, with sharp features; the grin they wore as they shifted into it was bright. (The world felt a bit louder with the face, too. Baz wondered if the woman was human.) “I can go back to myself whenever I’d like, but I’ve got plenty to show you if you want to see more,” they said in the woman’s voice. 

Jenny seemed a bit different as she went to answer the question, almost as though there was some insecurity behind her response. Baz furrowed their — or Talia’s — brow, curious as to why that was. Judgment from others, maybe? It seemed silly, how often humans judged one another. Baz often wondered how they got anything done at all. In any case, they weren’t prone to judgment. They nodded at Jenny’s big reveal, considering. “Well, that should be simple enough to achieve. Is it something you’re actively pursuing? I can’t say I know any vampires around here to put you into contact with, but I could help you bind one.” They tilted their head thoughtfully. “Just to make sure they’re not trying to screw you over. Oh! Will you be getting your windows tinted? Not a bad idea, I think. I don’t know how much the sun affects them indoors.” 

In all honesty, Baz liked the idea of Jenny becoming a vampire. It was always nice to see someone achieve their goals, of course, but there was something a little more selfish beneath it as well. Baz thought Jenny was fun to be around. If Jenny got what she wanted and was turned into a vampire, she’d be around indefinitely. That meant Baz wouldn’t have to be alone. And that, to them, was the sort of thing that sounded much too good to pass up.

—

Baz revealed some of their tragic backstory to her, but they didn’t treat it as a tragedy. Though Jenny could have leaned forward to take their hands and looked at them with sadness in their eyes if the situation called for it, this seemed to fit the two of them much better. “Wow,” she said in stead, “That must be a bit strange, to never have come across someone like you. But … like you said, you can get along with anyone! Love that.” She smiled at them and hoped this wasn’t some big gaping wound she just brushed over. The information was still filed away and though it might not be in a place where she’d recall it immediately, it was still something saved. “Good thing they found you, then.”

She snorted, “Nor have I,” she said, though there were probably some real slaytastic slayers out there. She’d prefer not to meet them, especially considering her future plans. “Hm, there are some ways of stabbing people that is kinda slay…” She wiggled her eyebrows, before letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “Horrid. Cringe. Horrid joke.”

Her face looked less amused when Baz explained that there were hunters out there that focused on fae. “Wardens…” Her nose crinkled with the knowledge, wondering if that meant there were different kinds of hunters for all kinds of species. She looked concerned for a moment, but took a level of comfort in the fact that Baz didn’t seem all too worried about the hunter that had gone after them. “Well, best stay out of that kinda trouble! I guess it helps that you can change your appearance, right? With avoiding them?” 

Jenny watched in awe, another gasp escaping her mouth, as Baz changed features once more and turned into a woman with sharp features and striking eyes. “Wooooow,” she said, “That’s so crazy, how fast that goes … you’re hot like this too. Wait …” She squinted at Baz, smirking. “Do you only pick hot people to turn into?” That subtle self-compliment was easier to make now that she wasn’t looking at herself, in all fairness. “Show me more, please, please!” She slapped her lap, feeling like a giddy kid.

Baz did not laugh at her or tell her she was crazy for chasing death (and rebirth — people tended to forget about the rebirth), but in stead offered her confidence and a helping hand. She beamed at them for a moment, then grinned. “I am! I’ve got a few vampire contacts in town, I met most of them at one of the bars in Nightfall Grove … but most don’t seem keen on turning me just yet.” She sighed. “If you can help me with your fae magic though …” She had no trouble using a vampire like that. She didn’t need her sire to be someone she loved, even if that would be a wonderful thing. She mostly needed her sire to make her into something more and then not expect too much from her. Like be a vampire with benefits of sorts. A friend who did her a big favor once — yes, that sounded like the best way to go about it. Having a romantic connection with ones sire was hot and all, but it always led to trouble.

She glanced at her windows, then nodded. “I’ll have to yes — maybe I should do that before I get turned … I definitely don’t want to have the curtains closed at all times, that gets so depressing you know? I’ll have to ask around if tinted windows are enough of a safety measure though…” She sunk into thought, before looking back up at Baz. “Oh my god, I’m so glad we met.”

—

Baz had never considered their lack of doppelganger companionship to be a bad thing. In all honesty, it wasn’t even something they thought about often. Whatever questions they might have had about what they were were easily answered through their own experimentation, both stemming from their boredom and their father’s insistence of testing their limits as often as possible in order to understand what they were capable of. They didn’t imagine a world in which they were raised by other doppelgangers because it simply didn’t matter to them. And so, they shrugged off Jenny’s sympathy with ease. “Never bothered me, truly,” they replied, though they were a little less enthused by the ‘relief’ that they’d been found by their family. They might have rather been found by someone else, all things considered. Even being raised by humans likely would have been kinder than growing up with their father. But they had no desire to talk about that, especially not when they were having a pleasant conversation, so they only nodded.

They couldn’t help but laugh at Jenny’s joke, shaking their head. “I happen to be a big fan of horrid jokes,” they assured her. “Maybe slayers would be a lot less stuck up if they stuck to the funner sorts of stabbing.” Probably not. Hunters were such a drag.

Especially wardens. It was easy enough to fool other types of hunters into thinking you were some poor, unassuming human, but wardens were trickier. “Not quite,” Baz replied to Jenny’s question with a frown. “They’ve got some sort of sense. Don’t know how it works, exactly, but they always know when there’s a fae around. Might not be able to pinpoint us in a crowd, but if we meet them one on one, there’s not much we can do to hide. Slayers have the same for undead. It’s a real bother, honestly. Seems a bit unfair to me.” Though most fae had plenty of defenses of their own, of course. Baz wouldn’t acknowledge that, wouldn’t admit that their people had just as many tricks up their sleeves to hurt wardens as wardens did to hurt them. That sort of thing didn’t fit the doppelganger’s narrative.

Of course, their narrative had always been as fluid as Baz themself. They planted a grin on the woman’s sharp features, holding out their arms as if to display the look a little better. “I do only pick hot people to turn into,” they replied with a wink. “Surprisingly easy to find them, in this town. Like most of the residents here are models or something.” Jenny’s enthusiasm was contagious, and Baz was quick to pull another face from the roster. Xóchitl hadn’t been very fun to be around the last time they’d seen her face to face, but it was fun to wear that face, anyway. “Hold on, I’ve more!” They did another quick change, this time to Teagan. Another, and they were Rosemary. “Bit of fun, yeah?” They asked in Rosemary’s voice, offering Jenny a grin. 

Their brow furrowed in concentration as she spoke of her contacts in town. “Suppose it might be the sort of thing that’s a bit nerve wracking, considering the person you’ll turn might be around forever. Some people might not want the responsibility.” They rolled their eyes at that, shaking their head. If Baz could offer Jenny a taste of their own immortality, they’d have done so in an instant. “I don’t mind helping out, though. I can bind them to their words if we can get them to phrase it the right way, make it so they have to turn you.” It might piss them off a bit, but Baz was good at throwing in additional binds to ensure that they came out of situations unhurt. They’d always look out for themself, in any way they could.

They nodded as Jenny turned to the windows, agreeing that closed curtains were a bit too depressing to remain feasible. “I’m sure there are some vampires in town who’d know the difference. Maybe you don’t even have to ask directly! Maybe it’d be enough to find a way inside their house during the day and see how they go about it.” If she was worried about being lied to, that might be a good bet. Baz’s grin widened as Jenny mentioned how glad she was to have met them. It wasn’t something they were used to hearing, but they liked it all the same. “You and me both,” they replied, and they meant it. Jenny Price was a good person to know.

—

The topic of family was a curious and somewhat uncomfortable one, that Jenny knew. To delve fully into Baz' adoption by other fae seemed a little too close for what they were going for right now, too personal for their vibe. Maybe there'd come a day where the two of them would relay their woes and pleasures of how they'd grown up, but she wasn't going to press on it today. They did not comment on it further and so neither did she, just glad that Baz hadn't been bothered by not being raised like other doppelgangers.

“Ha, good! You'll have to get used to them,” she said, glad that the other hadn't rolled their eyes to hell and back at her lewd pun. “Absolutely. Stick a vampire in a fun way, and they might get why they're so hot. Or cold, technically — you know.”

Her amusement washed away, her emotions waxing and waning in tandem with the conversation. It didn't feel overly heavy though, even if they were talking about people whose life was all about killing fae like Baz. Jenny was glad that there was still some airiness to it, as she became a drab depressing mess. She didn't want to be that person around Baz. That person was best reserved for her bed rotting hours. “What?! A sense? That's totally unfair, I agree, because I assume you don't have the same kind of sense for them?” She was trying to recall if any of the hunters in the media she'd consumed had that kind of sense. “Ugh, they should just get a hobby like crocheting or something.”

She was giddy, noding along with Baz' statement, “This town has a serious hotness issue,” she said, “But it's a total non-issue, unless you're like … celibate.” She certainly wasn't, and Baz definitely didn't give off waiting-for-marriage vibes either. She didn't think on the other's potential sexual activity long, squealing when his face changed. She'd definitely seen this one online. And then Baz changed again, her face morphing into a that of a blonde with striking features and then there was Rosemary! “Oh my gosh! Rosemary!” Jenny was positively elated at the sight of her friend, as well as the fact that Baz knew her. “She looks completely different in your clothes, that's so fucking funny.” There was too little pink and femininity, but it didn't look bad. “But please oh my, swap again … it's too much like talking to her.”

She nodded, “Right? I get that, but I'm totally a good bet when it comes to turning someone into a vampire. I won't ask for a lot of my sire, and just want to have a good time? Besides, I'm prepared, I can do it. Someone just needs to get that.” Jenny hoped she could find a vampire that'd just turn her on a whim and dip from her life to leave her to have a good time discovering her immortality. But alas, so many of them took it all so heavily. “That would be absolutely amazing, actually. Then we can bind them to not be annoying about them too. Right? Is that how this works?”

She was so glad to be talking about this with Baz, as they were coming up with some real solid ideas. “Yes! That's brilliant actually. I'll have to find a way to go about that, but should be doable, right?” And otherwise she'd just ask someone, it wouldn't be too hard. She took a long sip from her can, finding it finished. “Good!” It would be kind of awkward if Baz had said that they were totally bummed about having met her. She slid her legs off the couch, extending her hand for their can. “Another drink? Something to eat?” She got up, grinning at him. “We should extend this brunch into a dinner, I think, if you don't have any plans.” 

—

Jenny didn’t push the topic any further, and Baz was glad for it. They would mention their father, sometimes, in passing. They didn’t mind telling people that he’d been cruel, or that they were no longer on speaking terms with him. If it served them, they might even speak about how he’d treated them as a child, about all the things he’d done that they knew were wrong. But that was part of the mask Baz wore, part of their disguise. They treated their upbringing with flippancy, made it so they got to decide what mattered and what didn’t. They spoke of how their father treated them and how wrong it had been, but they never spoke of how it made them feel. The best masks you could make were the ones that were almost true. They didn’t really want to show Jenny that mask, though. They liked other masks more where Jenny was involved, wanted her to see different parts. For Baz, everything was about control. About having it, about holding it. It had to be.

So it was good, then, that Jenny didn’t push. It was good that she never asked for more than they were willing to give her, good that she let them maintain that control where they wanted it. “I can certainly get used to bad jokes,” they said, happy with the arrangement. And with Jenny’s sense of humor, which allowed them another laugh. “Can you imagine? Maybe it’d help some of them pull the sticks from their behinds.” 

Even the subject of hunters was one Baz could make light of, and Jenny seemed inclined to let them do just that. She agreed with them that the scales were unbalanced between fae and wardens, though Baz wondered if she’d have done the same if she knew some of the defenses fae did have. Not every warden was immune to a faun’s euphoria or a nix’s song, after all. Even Baz, as a doppelganger, could borrow the skills of the faces they wore and use those in a pinch. But it didn’t suit their narrative to talk about that. They didn’t like thinking about the nixies who drowned so many humans that their lakes were closer to graveyards than bodies of water, or the muses who drained artists dry one by one. They didn’t like thinking of all the bodies Billy had disposed of for their father, or the way Baz had helped cover up those deaths by pretending to be the victims long enough to craft a better story. They especially didn’t like thinking of Sebastian, who might have been saved if a warden had taken out Baz’s father years before the altercation that ended in Seb’s death. It was easier to think of it as black and white, easier to declare that wardens and other hunters were monstrous things that did what they did just for the fun of it and that every fae was a victim. Baz liked that story better. “We can’t sense them, no,” they confirmed. “I’d love it if they all took up crochet, though I imagine they’d be bad at it.” Naturally, they couldn’t picture hunters being good at anything they might enjoy. 

Better to focus on the town’s residents and how attractive most of them seemed to be instead. “Oh, I certainly don’t see it as an issue. If anything, it’s a perk of living here!” They’d managed to bed a few very attractive residents already, and had every plan to add to that list. (They wanted to ask Jenny if she’d like to join the list, though they found they’d be fine even if her answer to that question was no. They liked spending time with her, even fully clothed.) They laughed, still as Rosemary, nodding their head. “Clothes certainly make people look very different,” they agreed. They let themself fall back into their usual form, Sebastian’s face as comfortable as a favorite shirt. “Suppose I’ve never thought of it as odd, though. It’s been my whole life, yeah? Wearing someone else’s face is all I really know.”

It would be different for Jenny, when she achieved her goal. Going from being one thing to being something else entirely seemed jarring in a way Baz couldn’t quite relate to. Sure, they’d spent most of their life swapping between faces and species, but it had been all their life. They’d never known anything different, and they could always go back to the familiar in the end. For Jenny, she’d go from being one thing all the time to being something new all the time. It sounded so strange to Baz. They wondered what it would feel like. They made a note to ask her, once she got what she was reaching for. “If I were a vampire, I’d turn you in a heartbeat,” they told her with a sigh. “Or, the lack of a heartbeat, I suppose.” They flashed a grin. “Oh, sure. We can bind them to do whatever you’d like. I could make them cluck like a chicken, if we can trick them into saying I promise before it.” They gave her a wink. “But we’ll stick to the goal, yeah?”

They thought Jenny was probably capable of doing whatever she set her mind to, really. She was tenacious, determined. She’d become a vampire, because that was what she wanted. And Baz would help her, because it’d be nice to have her around a hundred years from now, when they needed someone to drink mimosas with. “Absolutely doable,” they agreed. All of it was. The finding out about vampires’ windows, sure, but the rest of it, too. Jenny would get what she wanted. Baz believed as much. They stretched their shoulders, nodding enthusiastically with a grin. “I like the sound of that. Oh! I’ve a tall Swedish man I could show you!”

It felt good, sitting on Jenny’s couch and spilling the proverbial beans about everything they were meant to keep private. It felt good, the way Jenny listened to every word they spoke and asked for more. Baz had always liked to be heard, and Jenny seemed interested in doing the hearing. They might not be able to tell her all the secrets of vampirism, but wouldn’t she need to know about the rest of it, too? Wouldn’t it all come up when she became a part of the larger supernatural world? It made Baz feel useful in a way that was new and exciting. Whatever questions Jenny would ask them, they would answer. And whatever answers they didn’t know, they were sure the two of them could find out together. Maybe over brunch!

[whimmortal]

TIMING: Early July PARTIES: Baz @bazzledazzle and Jenny @whimmortal LOCATION: A brunch spot! SUMMARY: The only thing bottomless about this brunch is the magically refilling glasses Baz and Jenny are drinking from. CONTENT WARNING: None.

It was always nice to find someone who understood you, even if they only understood bits and pieces. Baz wasn’t certain it was possible to comprehend anyone entirely, and it was much easier to think that than it was to accept that it was odd that they themself had never been understood in more than small parts. It certainly made it easier to enjoy the people who did comprehend tiny pieces of their puzzle, too. Had they thought it was possible to be more widely known, they might have been bitter that they weren’t. As it was, they were only happy for what they had. And, right now, what they had was a lovely brunch spread with Jenny. 

The pair had gotten on well enough at the poetry slam, despite the rocky introduction, and Baz had never been one to deny themself the pleasure of spending time with someone they got on with. Jenny was a breath of fresh air in a town that, so far, seemed a little too keen on killing them. And she liked their art. That bit was a very important thing to recognize.

They sat across from her, lazily stirring their mimosa with their straw. The waitress had come and gone, promising to be back soon with their food. Baz wouldn’t hold her to it; they were in no rush today, after all. The patio where they’d been seated was quiet and private, no other patrons to be seen. They liked that, too. “I can’t believe I’m just now learning about a brunch spot with bottomless mimosas,” Baz sighed. “I’m losing my touch. Normally I’d have sniffed this place out before the plane landed.”

—

Her first meeting with Baz had happened unintentionally. Of course, she had meant to address them, but it hadn’t been planned that the two would talk the night away in the very literal sense of the expression. It had been promising, but this? This was like a second date in friend-making terms. Jenny and Baz were meeting intentionally now, had both arrived at a secondary location and were doing one of the things friends did: they were brunching.

It was excellent to find a person of her tastes and attitude in town, and for them to also actually like her. Jenny had met plenty of people who were in her opinion of her level, but who thought themselves very much above her. Their loss, mostly — she’d definitely moved on from all those adult friend rejections. (Truth was that they stung more than the high school politics.) 

She took a hefty sip from her mimosa. It was also fantastic to have made a friend who agreed with day drinking. So many of them were opposed to it now that they were edging closer to thirty, but Jenny had never lost her touch. Especially not after all that had happened with Metzli. She wore a high collared shirt to cover the gnarly bite. “I know! Honestly I think something must have happened to me when I came to town to cause me to not search for ‘bottomless mimosas in my neighborhood’ because it is totally out of character for me. But here we are. We made it. Something about the journey, not the destination? Though the destination is definitely better than the journey.” She lifted her glass again, which was still impressively full. She held it out for a toast, “Here’s to great brunch spots!”

—

Jenny was in good spirits, which was another thing Baz enjoyed about her company. There was a lot of existential dread in this town. It was boring. Baz didn’t want to hang out with someone just to listen to them drone on and on about how sad their life was. Oh, my friend was eaten by a giant bird! Oh, my significant other disappeared in the mines and never returned! Oh, a vampire bit me! They were tired of it, really. Other people could benefit from learning the lesson Baz had perfected — shoving everything bad under the rug and never glancing at it again. Sure, it sucked that their best friend was murdered in front of them, but that was ages ago! Yeah, they’d have preferred it if a warden hadn’t tried to stab them shortly after they’d arrived in town here, but the warden hadn’t popped back up since! And okay, it was a bit of a drag that Metzli threatened to murder them just for being unbearably sexy, but that was life. You won some and you lost some, and Baz won more than they lost and forgot the rest. Other people would be better off doing the same.

They thought Jenny might agree with them… or, at the very least, that nothing terrible enough to destroy her whimsy had found her yet. In either case, she was much better company than the bulk of this town, and just the sort of person Baz wanted to have brunch with. Never mind that no one else had ever asked them to brunch before — they wouldn’t have said yes, anyway! Obviously! But they would always say yes to Jenny. (At least, unless she started acting as miserable as everyone else. Baz was a fair weather friend through and through, but they thought that was probably best for everyone. They weren’t exactly the sort of person you’d want by your side in a crisis.) 

“You and me both!” They clicked their tongue, grinning as they took a swig from their drink. It was only half full now, and they glanced towards the restaurant. Hopefully the waitress would return to give them a refill soon. Looking back to Jenny, they grinned. “The journey is fun and all, but if the destination has mimosas, that’s my preference.” They picked up their glass again, finding it heavier than it had been a moment before. A glance down found it filled to the brim with mimosa, despite the fact that they’d never seen the waitress come by. Huh. Efficient. They clinked their glass against Jenny’s. “And to great brunch company!” They wondered if she’d noticed the mimosa thing, too. To Baz, magic was pretty standard. Not enough to be boring, but enough that it didn’t warrant commentary. It might be more novel to someone like her, though.

—

Whenever Jenny envisioned her perfect future, it entailed many brunches. Even as a teen, she had looked at the older women in upper society that filled their days with brunching, having tea and then drinking wine with envy. Of course, these days she no longer aspired to become an old widow who gossipped with her old lady friends (gender neutral), as she no longer intended to become wrinkled. Being a widow could still work out for her, of course, and her intentions to be someone who filled her days with various little events like these was still ringing true. This was an excellent step in the right direction — and Jenny was very thrilled to spend more late mornings with Baz and these amazing mimosas.

She didn’t really notice the way her glass had refilled and was mostly impressed with the way she was pacing herself. After she and Baz had toasted she went for another sip, intending to finish at least one glass before their food arrived. It was nice to get that slight buzz before filling up. “Oh, I absolutely agree. Every journey should end in lovers meeting and mimosas.” The Shirley Jackson reference rolled of the tongue with ease and she wondered if they’d pick up on it. It was something worth discussing: whether Baz was also into prose, or if it was just poetry they created and read. She wanted to know these things about them, so they could talk about it — not just in the shallow way she did with her friends in New York, but in the way she had back at college. In a way that made her feel both smart and challenged.

“Oh, indeed!” She grinned, lifting the glass to her lips once more. This time – after four hefty sips – she started to take note of the way the glass was still full. Jenny held it up in front of her face, attempting to spot an optical illusion or magic trick. The glass looked like one sip had been taken from it, and did not stir. She frowned, took a long sip from her glass and put it down. “Weird, I could have sworn I drank more than that,” she said, looking at Baz with a quizzical look on her face. She shrugged and smiled, letting her gaze move around again until — “There! It’s full again.” She picked up the glass once more, staring at it intently. “When they say bottomless, they mean it, right?” Jenny searched for Baz’ reaction, both amused and startled.

—

Naturally, Baz’s eyes lit up at the reference. They’d always been a big fan of words. As a kid, they’d been the sort to duck under covers, reading books into the wee hours of the morning. It was a bit sad to admit it (which meant Baz never would), but they’d certainly been one of those depressing children who used fiction as an escape for their less than stellar reality. Shirley Jackson had lived on their shelf next to Shakespeare. (They’d had a tendency to sort books and stories that used the same phrases together. If Shirley Jackson referenced Shakespeare, didn’t it mean she’d like her work to sit beside his on a shelf? Naturally, this made their Shakespeare shelf a crowded one. Authors loved referencing that guy.)

“Every wise man’s son doth know,” they replied in a sing-song, taking a swig from their mimosa and grinning brightly. It was difficult to keep track of how much they’d had to drink with how quickly they were being refilled; they wondered if that was part of the strategy. Did drunk people tip better? Order more food? Baz had never put much thought into it themself, but there must have been something there, right? Like with most things, they didn’t dwell on it for long. Baz was at their happiest when they were jumping from one thought to the next, never quite settling. 

Jenny seemed to pick up on the mimosa’s oddity as she took another sip, holding it up to her face. Baz watched her with a curious expression. Her reaction would tell them something, wouldn’t it? At first, she seemed to write it off as a trick of the mind, but then, she went to prove it to herself, and the doppelganger grinned. Not too much shock; that was interesting to note. “A whole new level of customer service!” They agreed, taking a few sips from their own drink and watching it refill. “Do you suppose we’re meant to tip the glass instead of the waitress? It’s the one keeping us buzzed.”

—

Her lit up in response, their back and forth seeming to illuminate them both. Jenny had no issues with Baz going for good old Shakespeare rather than Shirley — both were writers she very much loved. Shakespeare for all the fundamentals he’d laid for modern theatre, but Shirley for her horror … maybe she could combine those forces one day, in her plays. “What is love?” She did not finish the line, leaving room for Baz to finish it, but having matched their sing-song tone. “Oh, amazing — gosh, I knew I could count on you to get my references.”

Baz did not seem shaken or surprised by the refilling mimosas, almost as if they had already noticed it and hadn’t bothered to point it out. Jenny wondered if that meant they knew things about the supernatural world, which to her was still such a big blur. “Do you think it’s the glass that does it, then? Are they —” She considered the stem, the curve of the glass, the simplicity of it all. “If we were to take them home, would they keep refilling, you reckon?”

It was not the main question on her mind, far from it. Jenny eyed the rest of the restaurant, then returned her gaze to Baz. She studied them closely for a moment, before leaning in and asking in a softer tone: “So … it’s magic, right? Or … what do you think it is?” Was using the word ‘magic’ cringe in the supernatural world? Maybe they used different terms, ones that were more sophisticated. Maybe there was a whole bunch of lingo that she didn’t know yet and she hoped she didn’t sound like an ignorant fool, even though she certainly was one. 

—

Jenny didn’t miss a beat, and a quiet thrill went through the doppelganger. This was the sort of thing they’d been looking for when they’d left their father’s house, wasn’t it? To understand and be understood. They thought of the flat they’d shared with Sebastian, the way art flowed so easily when there was someone making their own beside you. It was so easy to build off another person’s creative energy, so easy to combine it with your own. Baz missed that about living with Seb. (They missed a lot of things about that small era of their life.) “’tis not hereafter,” they hummed. They felt a surge of warmth as Jenny praised the way they understood the reference, feeling proud in spite of the simplicity. “Well, I was a bit torn between Shakespeare and Jackson, but I suppose you can’t go wrong with either, can you?” 

You couldn’t go wrong with mimosas, either, which was why Baz was far from upset that theirs seemed to be magically refilling themselves. (Who would be upset by something like that? No one Baz would want to hang out with, in any case.) “Maybe the glass,” they replied, inspecting it thoughtfully. “Maybe the location. Could be some sort of field around the patio, yeah?” Magic — at least, that of the human variety — wasn’t really Baz’s specialty. They knew it existed, of course, but they didn’t know the ins and outs of it. They didn’t know the capabilities or limitations or how it was wielded, but if it was what was getting them more mimosa, they were a fan.

Jenny leaned in, and Baz leaned in with her, excited by the possibility of sharing secrets. And there it was, wasn’t it? Jenny broke the seal first, whispered the big m-word so carefully. She knew something, at least, even if she was human. (Was she human? The most Baz could say for certain was that she wasn’t fae, but perhaps she was something else. Not a vampire, given the sunlight of it all — after their recent experience with Metzli, they were glad for that. Probably not a warden or any other sort of hunter, either; she seemed a bit too friendly for that. Maybe a shifter. She’d look nice with scales.) “Some sort of magic, I’m sure,” they confirmed thoughtfully. “Maybe a charm? Gotta be the human sort. No one else would do anything this fun.” Fae magic was nice and all, but they always used it for things like protecting nature. And that was fine — Baz was a big fan of nature, they were very pro nature! — but Baz liked mimosas better. “Do you have any ideas?”

—

“Nope,” she said, “No going wrong either way. If this was a test, and it wasn’t, but it could have been … then you would have passed with flying colors.” Jenny didn’t go around testing potential friends, but it was absolutely promising that Baz was able to reference both authors this way. She’d never felt a particular need to be picky when it came to friends. She tried to get along with everyone in her circles and hoped some would stick around, even if they thought her fanciful or silly. It was how most of her friendship at college and in the city had formed, after all. 

Baz was speaking as if they knew about magic. Jenny hadn’t even been sure if it existed up until now (and what a good confirmation of its existence refilling mimosa glasses was!), so she had not spared any thought to the rules and regulations of magic in this world. There always were those — magic came with a price and stuff like that. Was there a price for these mimosas? Was it simply the money they paid for this brunch, or would there be something else? Her mind was flooding with questions, her eyes falling on Baz to answer all of them. “I don’t know!”

Human sort, they said — which insinuated there were other kinds. She took a long sip of her drink, hoping alcohol might give her the clarity and wisdom to move through this conversation with good strategy. “I have no – no idea, Baz.” Jenny considered pretending she knew everything there was to know about magic, but figured she could just be more forward and honest. “I don’t know much about magic. What kind is there then, besides human magic? It does … like, it seems like a charm, and not a jinx or curse, if those exist. But I’m new to all this, you know? I —” She looked at her refilling glass, looking almost moved by it. “It’s beautiful.”

—

They grinned, both at the fact that it wasn’t a test and at the one that if it had been, they’d have passed it. Baz had never really liked being tested, though their father had been fond of doing so. They were at their most useful to him when they knew enough about whatever mark they were impersonating to do so convincingly, after all; not knowing the basics would only lead to trouble. Never mind that he had them bounce between faces so often that it could become impossible to learn anything at all about whose eyes they saw the world through. Still, if they were being tested, they wanted to do well at it. That was a natural inclination, they knew; no one liked failing, even if some people were less bothered by it than others. The ideal scenario was to never be tested at all. With Jenny, it seemed, they could achieve that. “No winners or losers in literature,” they replied with a grin. “Well, except for those looking to turn their nose up at anyone who doesn’t enjoy exactly what they enjoy, exactly how they enjoy it. I’d call them losers, personally.” 

Jenny seemed excited about the mimosas, a bit too much to have been a spellcaster herself. Baz mentally marked that off their internal checklist. They were leaning towards the unpowered sort of human for her, though they knew better than to make any sort of assumptions. All they could say for certain was that she wasn’t fae; beyond that, the world was an oyster, and all that. Whatever she was, it was impossible to pretend she wasn’t terribly endearing. The way she looked at the glass as it refilled, the stars in her eyes… A fondness spread through Baz, and they took a sip from their own glass, watching it refill as well. There was something beautiful about it; it was hard to notice that, sometimes, when magic became mundane. 

“There’s fae magic,” they replied, because why not be honest? Secrecy was fun to uphold sometimes, but others it was boring. And the more they spoke about magic, the more they might get to enjoy the stars in Jenny’s eyes. Perhaps they could persuade her to look at them the way she looked at that glass of champagne. Baz had always liked it when people looked at them; it was better still when they looked at them in a way that might make them feel bright and beautiful. “That’s typically more tied to nature, though. Or the individual appearance, like glamours and the like. I think there’s demonic magic, too, but I don’t know much about all that. I imagine it’s a bit drearier than all this, though. This kind of thing…” They sloshed the champagne in the glass a little, letting the liquid kiss the edge of the cup without spilling. “Only a human mind would think of this. They’re the more innovative type.”

—

Oh, Baz was wonderful. Jenny made an effort to get along with everyone, because she wanted everyone to like her, but with them she did not have to try or pretend. Everything they said rang true in her ears – except for their thoughts on Muertarte – and she was thrilled as they said another thing that was simply entirely true. “Yes!,” she said, hand slapping the table in agreement, “As would I! We can’t go around saying art is subjective and then act all snooty because someone likes some kind of book that might not be perfect in another’s eyes.” She’d been called fanciful, shallow and even dumb for her literary preferences by plenty of people, and she thought it trite. Some people got emotional over Formula 1 cars, and other people enjoyed monster romance novels … and though she certainly thought herself above those F1 fans, she still didn’t spend her days hating on them. Most of the time. She still thought any literature was better than racing cars.

The several sips she’d taken on an empty stomach to test the magic glass were contributing to her excitement, raising her bewilderment to another level. Jenny had had her suspicions, of course. She had hoped the supernatural world was not just limited to vampires, but other things as well — and with the rumors that swirled around town, it seemed very likely. Having her suspicions confirmed in such a charming way, however? That was better than she could have ever expected. She let out a joyful laugh, looking at Baz with a genuine thrill.

And they were, unlike so many people she’d come across in town, not speaking in riddles. Baz was forward and truthful, and Jenny wanted to jump up and lift them in her arms, spin them around and squeal. She remained sitting though, leaning forward over the table still. “Fae? Like fairies?” She wasn’t too versed in their lore, but she could do a deep dive soon. “Glamours… what are those? Nature, that makes sense with what I know of them from … well, fiction and myth, I guess. Demonic — now that is out of this world crazy. Demons, real?” She shook her head, then let her mind run laps around itself. “Wow. I mean … wow, it makes sense, right? I knew about vampires, and I heard the rumors about the demons that upended that neighborhood, but … wow, Baz. How do you know all this?”

—

Jenny agreed with them, which meant Baz liked her. They liked anyone who told them they were right about things that mattered to them, and while their thoughts on literature meant less to them than some of their other opinions, it was still nice to have them validated. The fact that Jenny had also complimented their art meant that she got another point in her favor and, really, that already put her far above the rest. Baz could be a lot, at times. They knew that, understood it. And while they yearned to be loved, they wouldn’t compromise on who they were to achieve that love, wouldn’t make themself easier for someone else to swallow. They’d done too much of that for their father already, and it had never amounted to anything at all in the end. They would rather be liked for who they were — and Jenny seemed willing to do that. Baz grinned at the thought, nodding along as she spoke. They liked Jenny, too, and not only because she agreed with them. (Although… that certainly helped.) “Exactly! What’s it matter if your tastes don’t align with someone else’s? That doesn’t make their taste bad.” They thought, with a bitter swirl in their chest, of Metzli’s commentary on their art. And then, because they did not particularly want to think about that, they shoved the thought away. Baz was good at that — they only liked to think of things they enjoyed. 

And they’d much rather exist in this moment than any other, anyway. The mimosas were both tasty and bottomless, and Jenny’s excitement felt contagious. It didn’t matter that Baz had known of the wonders of the world since they were born into it; witnessing Jenny’s reaction to the information made it seem as wonderful as it would have had they just learned of it, too. Things like that were contagious, and Baz was desperate to catch the feeling. They’d much rather share someone’s joy than their grief. They’d always preferred holding things that were easier to carry.

They wrinkled their nose at her question, shaking their head a little. “Well, sort of, but no one really likes the term fairy.” Even Baz, who was (in their own wholly unbiased opinion) much less stuck up than other fae, disliked being referred to as such. But they weren’t the sort to hold it against Jenny, either. There was no way for her to know without being told, and it was becoming clearer and clearer that Baz was the first to bother telling her. “Glamours are how most fae look human,” they provided. “They hide the parts that stick out. Hooves, green skin, wings, and the like. Some rely on them more than others.” Baz, for example, had no real need for a glamour. Their abilities allowed them to perfectly mimic anyone they touched. And yet, they’d often found themself jealous of their brother growing up. Yes, he’d relied on a glamour to seem human, but he’d had a face of his own even when the glamour dropped. Baz could never claim the same. “Demons are real,” they confirmed, wriggling their fingers. “I don’t know much about them, though. Rather stay away from all that sort of thing.” Really, Baz’s knowledge was almost entirely about fae. They knew other things were real — they’d slept their way through enough undead nightclubs to know about at least the major flavors of undead, and they’d known a lovely werewolf in London, and Sebastian had been… something — but when it came to details, Baz would be best at explaining the fae side of things. 

Just… maybe not here. 

They flashed Jenny a grin, shrugging a shoulder. “That might be a conversation for a more private setting. Listening ears, and all that.” It wasn’t secrecy that sealed their lips; it was self preservation. Baz didn’t particularly want to risk the wrong people overhearing their conversation and discovering that Baz was less human than they claimed to be. That sort of thing could easily be spread round, and if it ended up in the wrong person’s lap… Well. Baz had no interest in becoming a target. “Maybe after brunch, we take a trip back to your place, hm? We can talk more about the details.”

—

Hypocrisy swirled through Jenny as she nodded her head enthusiastically. Though she certainly felt this way about her books, she also fully gave into the competitiveness that came with being a witness to art. Everyone in the scene back at home wanted to say the smartest, most insightful and interesting thing — which often included some kind of criticism. Saying something was ‘good’ or ‘striking’ was never enough, and if you only spoke positively of a piece, you were quickly deemed shallow. Being a critic meant being critical. So she’d been critical plenty of times when she saw nothing wrong with a piece. And then, of course, there was the judgment of it all. Some things were simply deemed less. Though Jenny found it grating when people claimed her romance novels were shallow, she looked down on plenty of other artforms. But she was not aware of that, right now, because she was in agreement with Baz. For someone who claimed to be opinionated, she did always easily go along with the loudest thing said. “Exactly! In most cases, anyway — some people I do think have bad taste, but I’m not gonna yuck their yum either.”

She had little time to reflect on her spinelessness and hypocrisy anyway, as Baz continued speaking and her mind was playing catch up. Fairies were real, but they didn’t like the term. That was fine, Jenny could refer to them as fae — she wasn’t fond of using language that insulted people (to a point). They could hide their true appearances, which could include hooves and wings and other things. Demons were real, the biblical creatures that seemed so very obscure to her even now. It wasn’t her area of expertise, just like fae weren’t — but she was a quick reader and eager learner. 

“So — wow, okay, that’s … so what else, besides hooves and wings? Are there many here, or are they like … rare?” How many had she seen, if they could look human? Her mind quickly flashed to the restaurant in which she’d met Jade, and how strange all those people had looked. How convincing their make up had seemed. Had that been …? She wasn’t sure. But she could find out. “Do they sometimes walk around without that glamour? Because … I wonder if I’ve seen any.” It was almost too much to comprehend, but not long ago Jenny had found out that vampires existed and a whole string of events had followed. She was glad this was one of the new plot developments in her story here, a nice beat in her quest for knowledge. “That sounds smart, hm-hm. Demons don’t have a good reputation in general, probably for a reason. Or it’s religious propaganda… I think that’s the case for vampires.” Maybe some of it was fair enough. She resisted the urge to reach for her throat, in stead opting for more of the cocktail. That certainly helped with the itching memories of Metzli’s face after they’d drank her near-dry. 

They didn’t give her an answer, but they kind of did. It was better than the obscure ‘you’ll find out’s that she’d been getting, and Jenny could attempt to be a patient person. “Hmm, we can do that. You do deserve to meet Edward! And he deserves to meet you.” She leaned her elbows on the table, rested her head in her hands. “I’m going to ask you everything. And tell you all I know, too.”

—

Some people certainly had bad taste — Baz considered this to be true of everyone who disliked their artwork, to a certain extent. And while they’d argue for their work until they were blue in the face, they didn’t typically like arguing against something someone else enjoyed. Sure, they’d do it if they were already arguing with someone and wanted something to pick at — they were good at aiming for the weak points, even if they weren’t a physical fighter — but not unprompted. Baz’s way of thinking was made up of too much whataboutism for that. If someone disliked their work, they’d make themself feel better by pointing out the flaws with something the person did like instead in an attempt to discredit them, even if only in Baz’s own mind. They would gladly build themself up by stepping on other people, but they wouldn’t take those same steps without that goal in mind. 

Similarly, they were happy to out the supernatural world to someone who wanted to hear it so long as that person was giving them the attention they so craved. Baz was a mess of contradictions and hypocrisy; the ‘secret’ of the supernatural was important when it protected them, be it physically or emotionally, but less so when someone they liked was staring at them with wide eyes, as if they had all the answers she’d ever wanted. They didn’t, of course. If Jenny asked them about shifters, they’d only know what little they’d learned from Joel to tell her. If she inquired about the undead, they’d struggle to tell her anything more than the barest of basics. If she asked about some of the less common fae types, or for details on the wide variety of nymphs out there, Baz wouldn’t have much to say. But so long as she looked at him like she was now, Baz would find some way to fill the silence with things she wanted to hear. They’d have done the same for anyone, just as long as it meant someone’s eyes were on them still. 

“Well, some of them have fins and gills and the like. Some look like a part of nature — a tree, a plant. Some don’t look anything close to human without the glamour. I think there are flying pigs to contend with, if you go deep enough. There are all different types, though. Some more rare than others.” They’d only ever heard of some fae, and others rarely left their communities. They hummed at Jenny’s question. “Not usually around humans, no. Oh!” They brightened, an idea striking them. “There’s a bar here in town someone told me about. The Mushroom Circle? Evidently, plenty are open to walking around there with everything hanging out in the open. Wouldn’t go if you’re shy, though. The more naturalist types won’t bother wearing clothing in their unglamoured forms, and there are still genitals to contend with. Most don’t adhere to human society’s rules on those sorts of things.” It seemed fair to give her a warning, if only because Baz didn’t want Jenny to be upset with them if she went to the bar and saw something she might rather not have.

Jenny agreed with them about the demons of it all, too, and Baz was pleased with that. That sort of thing always felt a hair too dangerous to them. As bad a rap as vampires could get, Baz didn’t think they’d earned it quite as much as the more demonic entities had. (Though some were certainly deserving of the bad reputation.) Their grin only widened as Jenny agreed to let them back to her place. “Who’s Edward?” Probably not a boyfriend, or she’d have mentioned before. Housemate? Pet? Plenty of possibilities there. “I’ll answer what I can, but there’s plenty I don’t know, too. Can’t say I’m the expert. Still… it’ll be good to swap information, yeah?” They’d like to know how Jenny knew what she knew, too, if she was human after all.

—

She felt near delirious, as Baz revealed more and more of the secrets of the faerie – nay, fay – world. Jenny was dizzy with discovery (and mimosa) as she listened, hanging off every word from their lips. How lucky she was, that the person who so willingly spoke to her about all this had a great way with words, too. That it was Baz, who seemed so attuned to her own energy, who did not speak to her with warning like Henri had, or brutal condescension like that frustrating Owen. Not evasive, but giving her exactly what she wanted and, in her eyes, deserved. Jenny was used to getting what she wanted, after all. The taste of the silver spoon in her mouth had never left, the after taste making her into an adult who expected everyone else to fold to her whimsy and desires as easily as her parents and nanny once had.

It was frustrating, to come into a town and watch corners of veils being lifted without someone tearing down the curtain properly for her. She deserved to know the truth, didn’t she? She, of all people, was capable of handling it — she was a human, yes, but she was familiar with the genre, the beats and tropes and things expected of her. Baz was lifting the veil higher, and she wanted to smack him on both cheeks with her lips. Far away, in a corner of her being suppressed by alcohol and excitement, she wanted to ask them for insight on her situation. Not to ask advice on whether she should keep chasing her dreams, but rather how to go about it — if they’d help. To have someone listen to what she’d experienced so far.

But they weren’t on the topic of vampires at present, so the unspoken words were forgotten. “Whoa, that’s … amazing. I want to see one, no — I have to. I can picture it, you know, but it’s not enough … are they private, or?” Jenny was trying to think about where fae could be. If they were all about nature, they might not be in the smack dab middle of Wicked’s Rest. Baz would give her the answers, though: “Oh, shit? Okay, we have to go — I don’t care about seeing someone’s dick or tits if I’m like, mentally prepared to see them. I … wonder if they look very different.” She tried to imagine that now, which made her giggle. She blamed the mimosa for that. Or was it mimosas? Technically it was just the same drink the whole time, but by the way it had been refilling automatically she had lost track of how many mimosa-units she’d consumed.

“Oh! Edward is my dog, a little shih-tzu. Best baby in the world,” she said, looking excited still. The topic of her dog was always enough to inspire some enthusiasm within her, though it arguably took very little at present. “Yes … yes, I would love that. I’ve been looking all around for someone like you — someone who will tell me things and listen to me without thinking I’m mad …” She grinned. “Do you remember my poem? Does it make more sense now that you know what I know?”

—

The more they spoke, the more Jenny’s face lit up. It was because of the things they were saying, of course, because they were telling her things she wanted to know and doing so without the shroud of secrecy so many others seemed to cling to, but there was some quietly delusional part of Baz that so easily contributed parts of her excitement to the fact that it was him who was telling her these things. That Baz’s voice, more than any other, was the one Jenny wanted to hear these answers relayed in. They liked to think of themself as important, though the world had often attempted to prove to them the contrary. They liked to imagine that anyone would rather hear these things from Baz than anyone else, that their way with words made the knowledge somewhat sweeter. Everything sounded better when it slipped from a silver tongue, didn’t it? 

And perhaps there were things they should warn her about, if they were opening this can and pouring its contents onto the table between them, but Baz was not good with warnings. They had no desire to recount the fear they’d felt when Metzli had attacked them, or the way they were afraid of the man in the alley who had thrown them against the bricks. They didn’t want to speak of the warden they’d run from shortly after their arrival to town. Talking about those things would mean thinking of them, and Baz would rather see them all erased from his mind. Jenny saw this world as magical, and Baz could make it remain so. After all, wasn’t it a poet’s duty to spin every terrible thing into something lovely?

“Many are very private,” they replied, a little apologetically. Fae were known for being secretive, after all. If Baz’s true form were prettier, they would have shown Jenny that, but they were not graced with the lovely features of a muse or the natural beauty of a nymph. They’d never admit to as much, but they disliked the way they appeared in their natural form, disliked the shapeless mess of nothing that was all they amounted to without the mask. They knew Jenny would not find them beautiful, because no one would. A formless hunk of clay wasn’t the kind of thing anyone would place behind glass in a gallery; it needed to be shaped first. “We’ll go sometime, then! Some of them do look fairly different — I met a nymph once who was all vines down there. Interesting to see them in action, at the very least.” They offered her a cheeky grin and a wink. Baz was not immune to the influence of the mimosas, either. (Though… they probably wouldn’t have said anything much different had they been entirely sober, anyway.)

“Oh! A dog!” Baz didn’t dislike dogs, though they’d never want one of their own. A cat seemed like a novel pet, but the responsibility that came with the idea of owning one made their palms itch. Pets were the sort of thing to be admired from afar… and returned to their owners when they got to be a bit too much. “Well, here I am! More than willing to share the wonders of the world with you.” So long as it meant someone was looking at them, so long as someone was paying attention. They hummed, thinking back to her poem. It was packed behind a few layers of metaphor and prose, but the gist of it made a bit more sense now. “It does, yes. I’d love to hear more on your breakdown of it, too.” She could be more honest now that they both knew the other wouldn’t be scared away.

—

Jenny had always been a keen, yet specific learner. Holding knowledge was power in her family’s circles — if you didn’t, you missed out on clever jokes and smart quips and were thought of as less. So she’d made it her own, become a studious and dedicated child that read for fun and learned facts upon facts she could recite. She made sure she had the right vocabulary to commentate on art of all kinds, kept up with the culture so she could joke about current affairs and dedicated herself to her niches. This was no different from being a child desperate to be in the know. She had to understand everything around her, because otherwise she might be thought of as foolish. People thought her a ditz already, and she did not want to be one of those humans in a supernatural show that just kept walking into situations because they were ignorant. The fact that this had happened a few times already was effectively ignored.

Baz was helping her. Painting a picture of someone’s genitals, which meant she would not be unprepared when faced with something unexpected. “That’s … something,” she concluded, picturing how those vines would get the job done. It didn’t seem all too bad. “So is this like a sex bar then, Baz? Or was it somewhere else that you witnessed this?” Or maybe they had slept with the viney fae themself, which confirmed that Baz was on her level. The word nymph was registered as well, ready to be researched with books and the internet once she was back home. 

She was grinning at the thought of Edward. She somehow became even more affectionate with her pet when inebriated, “Oh, Baz, I’m so happy we met!” She clapped her hands together, before pressing them against her chest. Jenny felt emotion rise in her, a happiness so strong it almost made her tear up. She took a long sip from her drink to swallow down her tears, refocusing on the topic of her poem. “I’ll tell you all about it. Better not here too, probably …” That made sense. It seemed smart to follow Baz in those cautious footsteps. 

A member of waitstaff stopped at their table, placing two plates of brunch down in front of Baz and Jenny. Right, they were here to eat. “Oh, thank you!,” she beamed up at the woman, inhaling the food smell with appreciation. Some food would do her good, what with all the mimosas. “Is this bottomless too?” Her eyebrows wiggled and she burst out into giggles. The waitress confirmed that it wasn’t, which was disappointing, and turned to leave. Jenny grabbed her cutlery and grinned at Baz. “Bon appetit!”

[whimmortal]

[user unblocks Jenny]

[pm] I will be leaving, which is very good I think. No chance of running into each other. I […] hope your dreams come true and […]

This will not help you. I [...] am being selfish. Sorry.

[user reblocks Jenny]

[No message received]

[whimmortal]

Me, I do! I'll pay you in coffee and pastries. Do I need to tell you the question, or can I keep it to myself?

Well, the tarot deck is back out; who’s got a question for the universe? Prefacing it this time with no yes or no questions because I hate reading them. Either a one card pull for one thing you need to know or keep in mind at the moment, or a three card spread for more detailed questions. Payment to be accepted in cash, coffee, or other offers to be negotiated at a later time.

[whimmortal]

[pm] You've been a raccoon for a decade and you're still unpacking it?!?!? Yes, like that! But not like that kind of wolf, you definitely looked very different. More like a monstrous wolf, which is cool! The Twilight ones were more like cute cuddly animals. I don't go to church, sorry. You think they'd be able to help? None of the lore of the books I read said anything about religious intervention in these situations. Definitely in the case of some other supernatural things though.

Yes! I think you kinda saved both our lives. Or your devil did, I guess. None taken. I can't fight a wolf.

[pm] Yeah, been trying to unpack it for nearly a decade now, but it's not going so well. Oh, so uh...like the Twilight movies. Like Jacob turns into a wolf? I'm starting to think more and more that maybe it is a wolf...You wouldn't happen to know a priest would you...one that knows about this kinda stuff?

Really? You're safe. Well...of course you're safe cause if my devil had...you'd probably be dead. No offense or anything.

[whimmortal]

True enough, true enough

Oh look at that hairy, long cat! A real cutie.

When that day comes, we'll still have work to do to make all those findings make sense. But I don't see that day arriving while I'm alive.

Alright, one second. [writer can't be arsed to do a manip so this is definitely henri, and livy]

[whimmortal]

I do. Was just curious to hear your take on it, so by all means...

OMG, brilliant idea. Green's not usually part of my halloween color scheme but changes can be made...

Don't you think so? Nah, I don't mind it either. Just part of what makes Wicked's Rest itself.

That would be a top-tier Halloween decoration.

[whimmortal]

[pm] Wednesday afternoon? Where's good for you?

Fair enough, fair enough. I'd be real gooped if my dog turns out to be human.

[...] Bro. For real? This a reptile thing??

[pm] Works for me. I got most mornings n' afternoons free.

So yeah, not doin' that. Claimin' ignorance until proven otherwise.

Don't be, I ate them. When we was only a few months old, so yeah. A while ago, hah.

[whimmortal]

[pm] But the best thing about being bitten is the teeth :(

That's fair, but this is Twilight! Make an exception, dude! Honestly, I think that would be super interesting. She just defies her family and goes to snack on people. THE VOLVO WAS THERE? EDWARD'S VOLVO?

[pm] I'll have to track down someone without teeth to bite you just to prove you wrong there.

I live in the moment, Jenny! I don't think to text people where I'm going or what I'm doing! You can't expect this of me. Well, I suppose we don't know much about her adult life, do we? Who's to say she didn't become more of the human-munching type as she got older? [...] Dissolved into nothing, I'm afraid. The wolves, too. And the Volvo.

[whimmortal]

Don't you worry about the day that will come when everything has been unearthed?

Pics, now.

One of them. Archeology has many mouth pieces.

Livy ! Like the histor

[whimmortal]

[pm] Nope, pretty sure biting requires teeth. Other wise it's just being gummy. Or flubbery. We should!

Oh, you don't have a phone to text me about an impromptu twilight watch now? Crazyyyyyy considering our modern times. It definitely is out of character. Though it'd have been cool if Nessie had become a human-munching vampire, in retrospect. She's gone????

[pm] You can bite without teeth! Not effectively, but it is possible. Now, not having a mouth would be a hinderance... Oh! We should track him down, absolutely.

I would have if it'd been planned, but it was sort of a spur of the moment type thing. Next time, you and I can go together! I thought it was a bit out of character. Well, actually, I thought, 'Oh god, there's a baby biting me,' and not much beyond that until afterwards. She sort of collapsed in on herself and disappeared? It looked a bit melty.

[whimmortal]

[pm] Uhhh, that sounds like that's a whole lot to unpack. Messed up of your parents to think that, but maybe not entirely hard to understand. Maybe it's a devil, I never really got into the demonology stuff. But yes, it looked like a wolf. Like, you know, in movies when a human turns into a wolf?

Well your [....] devil/wolf/whatever side didn't hurt anything besides a zombie that was already hurting you! So no worries there.

[pm] Yeah, that's what my momma and daddy said it was. Said I was possessed. What would you call it? Someone once told me it looked like a really big wolf. I just know when I come back, it's usually hurt somebody or something.

[whimmortal]

Oh, okay, PHEW. I was about to tell you that was kinda dumb. Like, just don't go into stinky, slippery caves. I hope some kinda authority does something about it asap then.

Noo, no, it felt too gross on my feet. And the smell was bad. Like maybe something died, but also something else, something worse. I was just wondering if anyone else had ever been inside.

[whimmortal]

You think so? Please elaborate This town definitely tends to lean towards the spookier side, but I generally don't mind. If it leads to Flubber with teeth though...

Flubber doesn't have teeth but Wicked's Rest tends to make things just a little spookier. So I wouldn't be surprised if WR Flubber came with a full set of chompers.

Sure, I will, but I'm not crossing my fingers.

[whimmortal]

Fair, fair. You sound like a real spontaneous type, love it. If I follow the rumors and there's smth fun going on at the beach and it isn't you, d'you want me to ping you?

That was it. Just keep an eye or an ear out or whatever for something fun happening at the beach, it's probably me. I won't have time to formally invite anyone, you know how fast these things escalate.

[whimmortal]

If you want some help, I wrote a paper or two about it back in college. Vampirism on its own is interesting, but it's best when there's some deeper metaphor. Repression, grief, class, etc ... yeah.

Oh my, I feel you! My play is not coming along as swimmingly as I'd expected, it's hard to write anything. So really all I've got for you to read is academic work 😭

I'm going to do some more in depth research about vampire lore, I'm sure that you're right, I could probably use it for a metaphor to some deeper societal issue.

Is that right? Very well! I would love to read over anything you've written! If you're open to that, of course. I just love running into other writers of every genre. I myself am currently in the middle of the most unimagine writer's block. I couldn't write two paragraphs if given three hours.

[whimmortal]

Yes, my sister's kid was all over it and she haaaated it so I was the slime aunt. It was real fun and messy.

I love the soap cutting ones too... ASMR video makers are the heroes of our time.

Did you ever take part of the create-your-own-slime trend? I remember we had almost sold out of glue at the general store. My dad was worried about a glue shortage.

Man, I could watch hours of those slime asmr videos...