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@expatfromhell
“I’m not sure you have the best intentions.”
It was an ironic thing to say, considering the situation. That situation being Blythe delicately balanced on the foot board of Harry Dresden’s hospital bed, folded into a crouch that gave the impression they were ready to pounce as they watched the sedated wizard.
But Blythe did appreciate the attempt at humour.
“What gave it away?”, they drawled, turning their head towards the former knight in a birdlike twitch. “And, more importantly, what are you going to do about it?”
"So. Seems we may have a thing or two in common." (From Blackstone)
Blythe’s six eyes had narrowed into sharp little slits at the tall not-quite stranger that had approached them where they were comfortably prone on the plush settee. One long leg braced against the seat, while the other dangled off the side, leaving room for the pretty mortal boy lounging between their thighs. Their long, clawed fingers had been playing with the boy’s hair, winding blonde curls around each knuckle idly while they surveyed the mass of bodies on the dancefloor below.
They recognised the face and at first glance, they may have mistaken him for the other one. But something about him was recognisably different. They just couldn’t quite put their finger on it yet.
“Do we?”, the demon drawled and their hold on the strands between their fingers tightened until their human companion moaned with something somewhere between pain and pleasure, his eyes near black and his expression one of absent pleasure, giving away a state of intoxication of some kind.
Blythe’s own expression had shifted into a sly, almost hungry smile, too wide to be anything but inhuman. “You aren’t one of us ... hmmm.”
A flick of their wrist sent the young man in their lap backwards and to the floor, leaving them free to get to their feet with odd, long limbed grace. “And what, pretty doppelganger, do you propose?”
@hellsangelsheavensrejects
Suspicious Sentence Starters
Send me one of the following sentences regarding suspicion, trust, and paranoia.
“I’m not sure you have the best intentions.” “When have I ever steered you wrong?” “What makes you think I can trust you?” “I don’t trust you. Not yet.” “It’s hard for me to believe anything you say.” “It hurts that you still can’t trust me after all this time.” “I made a mistake, okay? Are you going to distrust me forever?” “It takes me a long time to open up to people, I’m sorry.” “There’s someone outside watching the house.” “I have a weird feeling about him/her/them.” “Why do you always think people are up to something?” “I won’t give you my trust. You have to earn it.” “You can’t live your life being suspicious of everybody around you.” “I know we just met, but you have to trust me.” “What on earth are you up to?” “So, what were you whispering about?” “You’ve been keeping a secret from me.” “I’m not crazy, we’re being watched!” “Why do I get the feeling you’re not telling me the truth?” “I’d rather be safe than sorry when it comes to people I don’t know yet.” “I trusted you once and I’m never doing it again.” “You see that person? I think they’re following us.” “I just get this feeling that someone has been watching me.” “Who are you and why have you been following me?” “I used to be a very trusting person.” “Where were you?” “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.” “You won’t call me ‘paranoid’ when you realize I’ve been right all along.” “You were right, okay? I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” “Give me one good reason to trust you.” “After last time, I’m not sure I should listen to you.” “Nope. Nuh-uh. I’m not trusting another one of your bad plans.” “How can we trust this person?” “How do I know you won’t just stab me in the back?” “I’m sorry, I just can’t bring myself to trust you again.” “You were right. I was a fool to trust them.” “I’m not suspicious. I’m just cautious.” “I told you that they were bad news.” “No, facebook stalking isn’t ‘creepy’, it’s called ‘being careful’.” “I get a bad feeling about them.”
amcracchius:
Michael would really prefer to walk away, but without Amoracchius to defend himself with, he didn’t dare turning his back to Blythe. Even with the Sword he probably wouldn’t risk it. “Harry doesn’t tell me about everything in his life. He doesn’t have to.” If their plan was to sow discord between him and Harry then they would fail.
“Secretive.”, Blythe nodded sagely, flipping the long, ostentatious feather boa they were wearing (or was it part of them?) over their shoulder. “I suppose that is no surprise. Birds of a feather and all that.”
They smiled and just for a second, two rows of needle sharp teeth were revealed and ... those dimples in their cheeks? Did those glitter red? Like a set of eyes?
“You know, given all the secrets dear Johnny-boy is keeping.”
amcracchius:
“Nice to meet you, Blythe.” They seemed to care about politeness and Michael knew enough about the Fae not to risk angering something unfamiliar. “We’ve met, yes,” maybe that’s where they learned his named then - although Michael didn’t believe for even a second that Blythe had John’s best interest in mind. “Their… tryst?” That’s not what he knew about the two of them, they’d both denied even being friends.
“Ooops.”, Blythe giggled, hiding their mouth behind a hand that looked tipped in claws. “Did I spill a little secret?”
They pushed themselves up, back onto high heeled boots. “Here I thought that, since you are clearly very close to Mister Dresden, he would tell you. I guess I ... misjudged your relationship.”
amcracchius:
“It’s not very polite not to introduce yourself, either,” Michael watched warily as the… creature sat down, their movement unnatural and unsettling. The hairs on the back of his neck were rising, everything about this situation was wrong. “I think I’ll stay here, we can talk from a distance.”
“Ah, yes. Right. The name’s Blythe. I’m a ... friend of John’s. John Constantine? Have you met? Charming fellow. British. Blonde, blue eyes. Yay high?”, they indicated a height somewhere around six foot off the ground. “I’m just looking out for someone very dear to my heart. You know, with his ... little tryst with Mister Dresden.”
@expatfromhell said: "You … are one of Harry Dresden’s friends, aren’t you?“, the speaker is tall and thin, too tall and too thin. Their face is pale and something about the proportions isn’t quite right. Their eyes are hidden behind dark glasses, even though it’s nearly 11 at night.
“I am,” the speaker clearly isn’t human, but Michael couldn’t quite figure out what they were instead. He doesn’t have Amoracchius with him, hadn’t gotten any sort of warning that he’d need it. “Who are you?” Definitely not a friend of Harry’s, that much Michael could guess.
“Oh, that’s not very polite.”, the strange stranger hummed and folded themselves onto the little park bench beside them, long, too thin legs folding over each other. “Come, sit. I just want to talk, Mister .... Carpenter, wasn’t it?”
@thatgoddamnwizard
Continued from ask
Cold fury erupted through him at the demon’s next mention of Constantine, and the pain of his wounds melted away into so much background noise. It had occurred to him before that he knew precious little about the man’s past. About the demons– both figurative and, apparently, literal– that haunted him. He hadn’t pressed for details, and had volunteered precious few of his own.
But this creature, whatever its history with John, clearly had one hell of a hard-on for hurting him. And that…
That was not okay.
Not even a little bit.
(He tried not to think about what that might mean)
(It meant Constantine was his, and he’d be damned if he’d let this demonic stick bug harm him in any way)
As the demon hurled itself at Harry, he swung his staff to bear again and snarled, “Here, have an appetizer on me. Infriga!” A roar of wind kicked up, punctuated by a flash of glittering light, and the air rippled and cracked with a broad swathe of mist-shrouded frost.
Pain in the air, the taste of blood and Blythe could feel their gut twist with pleasure.
Oh, they knew that anger.
Their sources were correct, then. John Constantine had gotten himself entangled with this ... Dresden character.
And what a character he was. Half of Fairy was having a hardon for the man and Hell? Oh, Hell was just jonesing for his soul.
Blythe, however? Blythe was just here to have a little fun on John’s expense. Maybe start a little collection down in Hell? Oh, wouldn’t that be fun? They’d string up Dresden right beside what was left of sweet Oliver. And then, then they’d get the one with The Gun, too.
And they’d make John watch.
His own personal Hell on earth.
But first ...
They saw the spell coming this time. The staff might direct his power, but it was also telegraphing Dresden’s intentions and Blythe pushed themselves out of the direct path of the incoming power. The edges of it still stung like a hundred knives to their skin.
They laughed.
“Too slow. Again.”, they admonished with a little click of their tongue. A tongue, that they wrapped around their blood stained finger. Only to draw back with a hiss, swallowing the astringent sweetness of fairymagic. “Oh, now that’s interesting!”
Once again, they cloaked themselves in shadow, pulling darkness around them, before reaching for the threads of magic around them. Long fingers knitted into a complicated pattern and when they stepped back into the half-light of the parking lot, barely a step away from Dresden, the power of their own spell released.
It took hold of the staff and yanked, hard, giving Blythe an opportunity to step into Dresden’s space, almost like a lover into a waiting embrace. The way Blythe wrapped their arms around the man furthered that illusion until their claws dug into the muscle beside his shoulderblades, holding him in place.
“Just a little lovebite.”, they quipped and dragged their tongue along Dresden’s face before sinking needle sharp teeth into the soft tissue of his throat.
expatfromhell:
The stranger shrugged and clucked their tongue. “Maybe not.”, they amended. “But he is the one who tried to screw me out of our business. And by that I don’t mean that pleasant kind of screwing.”, they emptied their glass with one toss of a wrist, swallowing the alcohol. “Tell him hi from his old friend Blythe when you see Johnny, will you? Oh, and, you were much more pleasant that the Wizard. Some people just don’t have any manners.”
Constantine what the hell did you do, dude? Wynonna laughed wryly. “Yeah, sure. I’ll pass it on.” Some of her good humour faded at the tone Blythe used. It tweaked at her and made her hair feel funny. Shit. I wonder if Jeremy’s crotch is feeling weird. “That’s me. Pleasant and well mannered.”
“Ah, of course.”, Blythe grinned their sharp toothed smile and slid off the bar stool. “Have fun, little Heir. Oh and, keep an eye out. John’s lovers have a tendency to end in hell. Tata.”, they laughed, turned and from one step to the next, they were gone.
expatfromhell:
“I can be … very friendly. Just ask John.”, they smiled at her and dipped a clawed finger into their drink only to bring that hand up and suck the liquid off the digit. “Whatever you are, you want in his pants just as much as the volatile sorcerer. So, I just thought I’d give you some friendly advice.”
I’m not drunk enough for this.
But she doesn’t take another sip of her drink. “I’m sure you can.” She watched them preen and shook her head. “Frankly whoever is in his pants isn’t your business.” Wynonna wasn’t going to go into Harry’s part of this whole, weird thing.
The stranger shrugged and clucked their tongue. “Maybe not.”, they amended. “But he is the one who tried to screw me out of our business. And by that I don’t mean that pleasant kind of screwing.”, they emptied their glass with one toss of a wrist, swallowing the alcohol. “Tell him hi from his old friend Blythe when you see Johnny, will you? Oh, and, you were much more pleasant that the Wizard. Some people just don’t have any manners.”
expatfromhell:
The stranger laughs. “Axe to grind ex. You’re funny. Much funnier than that grouchy wizard.”
They shrug and wave a long fingered, clawed hand dismissively. “Just here for a friendly chat with my ex’s new beau.”
Grouchy wizard? Shit.
Wynonna’s raised eyebrow conveyed her skepticism at that. “Honey, just looking at you makes it obvious that friendliness is the last thing on your mind……And I’m not his beau.”
“I can be ... very friendly. Just ask John.”, they smiled at her and dipped a clawed finger into their drink only to bring that hand up and suck the liquid off the digit. “Whatever you are, you want in his pants just as much as the volatile sorcerer. So, I just thought I’d give you some friendly advice.”
expatfromhell:
The stranger’s teeth are way too sharp to be human and it accentuates the strange, slitted dimples on their cheeks. “A lot of experience.”
Why does everyone’s exes have freakishly sharp teeth? Jesus Christ!
“Good for you.” She takes a sip of her beer. “What do you want, axe to grind ex?”
The stranger laughs. “Axe to grind ex. You’re funny. Much funnier than that grouchy wizard.”
They shrug and wave a long fingered, clawed hand dismissively. “Just here for a friendly chat with my ex’s new beau.”