#This is so dreamy i just want to poke the screen and drown

[333dolans]

Bad News Pt.2 // E.D

Part 1

Summary: Film night with your best friend? What could go wrong?

Tags: @evergreendolan @dolansficsandpics @foxglovedolan @rhyrhy462 @bingexdolan @dolanissues @livexdolan @baby-turtles @blindedbythelightt @ethandolansrighteyebrow @goldenndolan @serenedolan @abstractstardiva @delightfuldolan @gloriousgrant @qtgrant @sosweetgrethan @prettyboydolan @mercurygrant @szadolans @cutestdolans @brockdolan @velvetdolan @soledadgray @aquadolan @indiyaesthetic @vinylhazza @dolanpornhub

“No no no, Y/N you and I both know that isn’t true! The prisoner of Azkaban is the best Harry Potter film, no further debate needed!” He poked at your sides as you flopped your head back down into his lap, his fingers automatically beginning to play with your hair. “Absolutely cannot agree with you, Goblet of fire is superior. Hello? Cedric Diggory, need I say anymore?! He’s fine as hell!!” You countered back, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

You had decided that for tonight’s weekly sleepover, a Harry Potter marathon was in fact, very much needed. You had dragged Ethan into the world of Harry Potter on your 13th birthday, when your obsession with Tom Felton had began. Ethan, wanting to see what all the fuss was about had agreed to watch with you and had been hooked ever since. It was your thing, promising to never watch any of the series without the other present.

Oh how you adored nights like this, you cherished the feeling of Ethan touching your skin in anyway, you felt safe, comfortable. You felt whole when you were with him. Allowing yourself to briefly forget about the agony that was loving him.

You were mindlessly playing with Ethan’s fingers when he spoke up. “I have a date.” He said quite bluntly, taking you by surprise. “O- oh you do? Who’s the unlucky girl then?” You desperately tried to mask the pain radiating in your body by teasing him, but the tremble in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Ethan. “I know right, who’d of thought I, Ethan Dolan, would have a date! She’s called Aria, she’s... cute?” He answered, though his last sentence sounded more like a question, as though he wasn’t sure of his statement.

“Tell her she’s in my thoughts and prayers, I can’t imagine having to put up with your ass.” Chuckling forcefully, you gave him a small smile, you could feel the tears pooling in your eyes. “Now If you’ll excuse me, i need to use the toilet before I burst! I don’t want to miss Harry’s first trip to Diagon Alley!!” You were quick to scurry off, praying he didn’t notice the few stray tears that had began to fall.

Sliding down onto the harsh, cold tile of Ethan’s bathroom floor, you tucked your legs to your chin, cradling your weak form. For years, you’d watched so many girls come and go from Ethan’s life, nothing but simple hookups. You simply could not recall a time where Ethan Dolan ever went on a date, surely this meant something? He must like her a lot to agree on spending time together to do anything other than fuck?

Your mind was racing with so many agonising questions, but one remained at the fore front of your mind. Rising to your feet, your focus remained solely on the broken shell of a girl staring back at you. Analysing every feature of your face, your relentless eyes interrogating your reflection. Unable to shift the one thought that always seemed to hold your happiness as hostage.

“Why am I never enough for him?”

After what seemed a lifetime, you managed to pry your eyes away from the now clouded mirror, your ragged hot breaths had left condensation, droplets of water now beginning to race down as the surface cooled. Cleaning yourself up, you removed the remanence of smudged mascara that had made its way down to your red, blotchy cheeks. Splashing your face with cold water, allowing it to soothe the burning, flustered skin underneath it. You began taking deep breaths to collect your emotions before heading out into the bedroom.

Greeted with his large form already under the sheets, he was sat up. You looked at him, really looked at him. Watching the way his chest rose and fell, subconsciously you began to match the rhythm of his breathing. The way the fluorescent light of his phone screen lit up his gorgeous features. The curve of his nose, you could spend all day tracing it if he’d let you.

A bright twinkle made home in his dreamy brown eyes, you swore you saw galaxies when he looks your way. If you were brave enough to enter their depths, you would happily drown in them without a single struggle. When he broke out into a smile, you were overcome with a cozy feeling deep inside, he always felt like home to you. He had been there with you for your first of everything. You wished for nothing more than him to be your last too.

You hated him for not loving you the way you love him. You loved him for loving you at all. You despised him for spending so many nights in a stranger’s bed when you were here, waiting for him. You loved him for the nights where you were cuddled into his chest, safe and sound. You hated him for being so careless with your heart that you trusted in his hands. Your head had become a constant battlefield. The thing is? You knew you didn’t hate him, you hated yourself for falling for someone you could never have. It was easier to blame him. Why couldn’t you just get over him?

You slipped into your side of the bed, allowing the warm sheets to relax your mind and calm your thoughts. Not long after, you felt a familiar hand snake it’s way across your torso, pulling your back closer towards him. Normally you would of melted then and there, putty in his hands. Tonight was different, you couldn’t keep pretending this wasn’t hurting you. You reached to pull his hand from its spot on your waist but he interlocked his large hand with your small one. You wish you could say you let go, but you didn’t. You couldn’t find the strength to pull away, instead you only moved closer, tucking your bodies as close as possible. You needed to experience this feeling one more time. You needed to remember it.

As the beams of morning began to make their way through the blinds, you felt whole. You felt joyous, fulfilled, loved. You rolled your body over so you could see that damn face that plagued your dreams once again last night. The beaming smile on your face quick to fade when you were met with cold, empty sheets. He’d clearly been gone for awhile, since they had lost all heat sourced from Ethan’s body. Maybe he had gone to make you breakfast? Ethan doesn’t do mornings unless he has plans. Maybe a meeting he’d forgotten about? You glanced out the window, met with Grayson’s large figure doing his morning workout.

Your eyes flickered around the room, searching for any signs of your best friend. That’s when you met the folded up paper left on the nightstand along with a glass of water. Fingers tracing delicately across your name in his hand writing, making your stomach erupt into butterflies. You peeled back the paper.

“Morning sunshine, gone to meet Aria for a coffee. Wish me luck! See you later, E x”

Your once good mood, certainly long gone now. Years, for years you’d been wasting your time, waiting for Ethan to love you back. You’d gotten nothing but heartache, it was time to get out there. It was atleast worth a try right?

Scrolling through the contacts of your phone, you came across the target of your search. Tapping away at the keyboard before pressing send and leaving your phone on the bed as you headed for the kitchen.

“Hey Logan :)”

[quill-dagger]

SheepDog Intro

I started the most self-indulgent novel in the universe for NaNoWriMo a couple of years ago, and I revisited it today on a whim. Turns out, the intro to this thing was tons of fun, so I thought I’d post it here, partially as a reminder that as much as I beat myself up about it, writing is fun, dammit. 

        “Hey, do we have any dish detergent left? You know, for the blood.”

        Kendra looked up from the Tiger Beat magazine she’d been flipping through to see if Jen was going to respond, but the other girl was furiously typing on her phone. Her nails were just long enough to slow down her usually rapid-fire thumbs, and it didn’t help that they’d been filed to points, turning them into shiny, dark gray claws. Her rose gold pentagram phone charm swung with every letter she punched in. After a moment or two, she lifted the phone and snapped a picture of herself, smiling and throwing up a peace sign. She went through a couple of filters before selecting the one she wanted and posting the picture online. Kendra waited patiently before the other girl closed her phone and dignified her question with an answer.

           “My mom went to Sam’s last week and got like, three giant things of Dawn. We can just go to her place and take some later.”

           Kendra frowned and looked at the spreading pool on the floor. “How much detergent are we gonna need? Will a couple bottle be enough?”

           Jen reached out with her foot and lightly nudged the source of the blood with her foot. He groaned in response, but this groan was a lot weaker than the last. He’d be done soon, and they could stop all this waiting and finally get the ritual started properly, not to mention finally putting their kitchen back in order. The dining table had to be shoved aside at an awkward angle to make space for the circle in the middle of the floor, since the single bedroom and the living room were both carpeted, and they didn’t want to risk the stains.  Still, waiting for a grown man to bleed out was a little boring. They could have slashed his carotid and made it quick, but the demon they were summoning demanded that things be low and slow, so they’d opened up his wrists. Across the street, of course. Down the road would have been too efficient. Kendra wished she had brought her own phone for the hundredth time that night. She flipped open the magazine again and stared at the face of a non-threatening teen boy with swoopy hair and dreamy eyes. Maybe they wouldn’t have had such a hard time taking this boy down. He looked a lot lighter the dying man on the floor. Kendra vaguely wondered whether he would have bled out faster.

           “We probably have enough. It doesn’t really take that much.” Jen flicked a lock of black hair out of her face and continued fiddling with her phone. “Did you remember to place all the wards?”

           Kendra nodded. The windows and doors of the house had the little cloth covered in bits of protective code tucked away in the corners. She’d spent hours going over all the nooks and crannies, making sure that none of the energy from the ritual would be detected. They didn’t need any interlopers picking up their trace. Magic was a covetous thing, dark magic especially so. She didn’t want to be locked up in a government lab like the Fair girls. The modern justice system wasn’t equipped to keep dark witches locked up, but anything was possible with enough morphine.

           “What did those dudes want this demon for, anyway?” Jen asked. She had put her phone down and was leaning against her headboard, fiddling with one of her rings. “We probably have another couple of minutes before she gets here, so we might as well shoot the shit. The bald one was pretty weird.”

           Kendra turned a page in the magazine and glanced over some celebrity gossip. Some blonde actress got dumped by another swoopy haired boy. Someone’s mom was sick. It might have been cancer, but the sentence-long blurb was frustratingly vague. Sneaker endorsements. On-screen kisses. Two blonde white people in a cream Mercedes, smiling and laughing, wearing watches and jewelry that cost more than Kendra would ever make in a single year.

           “Something about the owners of a rival business or something. Like, another game shop.”

           Jen whistled. “Business rivalry! That’s new. Mostly we get revenge or some romance-gone-wrong shit.”

           Kendra wiped her sweaty palms off on the black comforter. “Didn’t one guy want to just, wipe out the town? I remember him. Some really wound-up kid who wanted to wreck the whole tri-county area.”

           Jen poked their victim with her foot again. No groan this time. They were getting closer. “I remember him. That was a no-go. Can’t spend the money if we’re all dead, sweetie. That’s the golden rule.”

           “We don’t have a lot of those,” Kendra muttered into her magazine.

           Jen frowned at her. “A lot of what?”

           Kendra took another glance at the man on the floor. The groans had stopped, and he was lying still, all the blood that had been keeping him alive surrounding him on the floor. His wallet was lying on the nightstand, empty. Jen had been the one to strip the vics of their valuables ever since Kendra had found pictures of a family and gotten cold feet on a job with a big payout.

          “Rules.”

          Jen scoffed and started lighting all the necessary candles around the room. “Don’t sweat it too much. You’re always over-thinking shit. Look, this dude was boring. He lived a boring little life with a boring little office job and worked boring long hours so he could bring money home to his boring little wife. Getting murdered was probably the best thing that was ever gonna happen to him, baby. Live fast, die young. Not young enough in his case, I guess.”

          Kendra took a piece of chalk and completed the last bits of code that made up the summoning circle, careful to check for places where it had been smeared by blood.

          “Promise we won’t end up like that guy,” she said, glancing at the greying temples soaked in red.

          “What, dead?”

          “No, sad and old.”

          Jen laughed as she finished up the candles. “Hell no, babe. It’s the 27 Club or bust. I’m not letting them put me into the ground with fucking crow’s feet. We can start by buying some more coke when this payment lands, got it?”

          Kendra smiled and sealed the circle.

         “Deal. Now let’s get this thing started.”

          Jen pulled out a glittery pink binder and flipped through the pages muttering to herself.

          “Let’s see...Matthias the Warped....The Ballerina, Caroline Matthews, Pazuzu, Hanako….Ah, there she is! Lamia. Okay, let’s meet our little friend.”

           Jen stood on one side of the circle, holding the book and looking very solemn for the first time all night. Certain demons are fans of solemnity, and this one happened to be one of those uptight geezers who demanded candles and chanting instead of orgies and dancing. Not the best ritual for a Saturday night, but Lamia was the best one for the job. Kendra stood on the other side, placing her palms in the air on the edge of the circle, her eyes closed in concentration. After a reverent moment of silence, Jen’s voice broke into a low chant.

           Neither Jen nor Kendra knew what language it was in. They had looked up how to summon Lamia online, but none of their sources ever agreed on whether it was some weird ancient form of Latin or Greek. Either way, it had taken forever to learn the words, and Kendra still wasn’t any good at it, but Jen was nearly a master. The chant rose and fell in the gentle cadence, and Kendra found herself swaying, enraptured by the power of Jen’s voice and the flow of energy steadily rising from the floor. She opened her eyes just a crack and saw that the man’s body was sinking into the floor as if he were drowning in quicksand. Kendra wondered vaguely what even happens to the bodies of their vics after they disappear into the swirling pink void, the color of the universe somewhat anti-climatically named cosmic latte, but the power overtook her mind again, and she shut her eyes to feel it more strongly.

         Jen’s voice wavered, and Kendra peeked at her from across the circle. Her brows were knit a little more tightly than usual, and her gray claws dug into the glittering back of her binder. Something was up. Usually, the two of them was all that was needed to diffuse the power of the ritual, but things seemed to be getting dicey. They’d brought the Lamia into their world with no hiccups before (aside from the occasional attempted murder of someone who was not a target), but now Kendra was beginning to feel the strain. Her breathing became more labored and her hands began to tremble as they threatened to fall to her sides. Something was blocking the Lamia. Something huge. Something even more dangerous.

          Jen looked at Kendra from across the circle, fear in her eyes. Kendra shook her head at her and mouthed, ‘Stop the chant’. Jen’s eyes widened, but Kendra nodded firmly, leaving her no room for argument. It would be better to just get another sacrifice and try the ritual again some other time instead of dredging up whatever horror they were about to encounter. Murder was a bitch, but so was dying, and neither of them were 27 yet, anyway. Jen grimaced and shut her summoning binder, although not without some difficulty. The power dissipated, leaving them standing in the middle of the room with a half-open gate to some distant netherworld in the middle of their kitchen. The body had long been consumed, but all-in-all, it was still quite a mess.

         “What the fuck was that?” Jen snapped, throwing aside her binder and pointing at the remnants of their failed summoning.

          “How the hell should I know? There’s no way Lamia should have been intercepted. I didn’t think there would be enough time.”

          Jen grabbed her candle snuffer and went to work on the candles. “Well, whatever it is, I don’t want to find out. Lamia is our resident badass. If something can take her out, then whatever it is, it can stay on that side of the circle for all I care.” She shivered as the last candle went out.

         “Jesus,” she muttered. “I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

        “Uh, didn’t you though?”

         “Shut the fuck up, Kendra!” Jen yelled across the circle, “I signed up for coke and money, not for this…”

          “Jen,” Kendra interrupted. “I did not say that.”

          Jen paused, mouth open mid-tirade. Where the body of a man used to be, where the warm pink swirl of the portal between worlds pooled beneath their feet, was a face. A brown face with a wicked smile and killer eyebrows. It stared up at them, eyes going back and forth between the two.

          “Down here, girls.”

           Kendra shrieked and tried to scuff the edge of the circle to close the gate, but the chalk refused to come up no matter how hard she tried. Jen grabbed the knife they’d used to take down their vic and waved it threateningly, the dried blood on the edge making for a gruesome display.

          “You stay the fuck down there!” Jen shouted. “We don’t want any trouble from you, okay?”

          The face huffed. “Well, I didn’t want any trouble either, but here we are. Stuck together on a Saturday night. The Coathangers were playing at the Masquerade tonight and you’re making me miss it. I hope you’re happy with yourselves, ladies.”

          Slowly, the face rose out of the darkness, revealing that it was attached to a head with long, white locs. The being continued to rise, revealing a woman in a jean jacket crusted with a million buttons and patches. In one hand, she held a long bowie knife inscribed with line after line of code. In the other hand, she held the disembodied head of the Lamia, all tongues and rage even in death, her neck stump dripping with green iridescent blood. It was also apparent, once she’d fully exited the portal and stood swaying on the kitchen floor, that she was very, very drunk.

         “Oh God,” Kendra groaned. “It’s you.”

         “Hey now,” the interloper drawled. “Is that any way to talk to an officer of the law? I don’t think so.”

         “Why don’t you ever just mind your own fucking business, Sheepdog? We know what happened to the Fair girls. We aren’t about to go down like them.”

          “What happened to them was...yeah, that was pretty shitty,” Sheepdog said. “But then again, they shouldn’t have been cutting people up to summon demons for their freaky underground club thing. I looked around down there, and let me tell you, corn on the cob should not be used that way.”

          Jen lunged at Sheepdog with the knife, but Sheepdog’s knife was faster. Jen’s weapon sailed through the air and landed next to the sink. Jen crumpled to the ground and moaned, cradling her injured hand. Kendra backed away slowly, thinking furiously of anything she could use as a weapon. She grabbed a candle and waved it uselessly in front of her.

          “Stay back. Stay back, do you hear me?”

           Sheepdog walked towards her slowly, swinging the Lamia’s head in time with her steps. She didn’t seem to be in any great hurry.

            “Yeah, I hear ya. I’m just not listening, you know?” She stopped and tossed the Lamia’s head at Kendra, who caught it in her arms with no small amount of disgust. “Look, the boys will be here soon, with magic neutralizers and, if you give them any shit, guns. So have a seat and relax or something. No need to lose your head.”

            Sheepdog snorted and started giggling uncontrollably as Kendra watched her with a mixture of hate and horror. After she collected herself, Sheepdog twirled her knife and walked back to the still-open portal, whistling a little tune as she went.

            “Wait!” Kendra shouted.

            Sheepdog stopped and turned, swaying under the pull of both the portal and her own inebriation. “What?”

            “How did you know we were doing this? How did you know to stop us?”

            Sheepdog stepped into the portal and spoke as she began to sink into the abyss.

           “I have ways, girl. Ways that you would not even be able to begin to imagine. I have whispered to the shadows of dead men in the dark. I had spilled the blood of a suckling calf in the darkness of the new moon. I have wrung bile from goat stomach, traded the minutes and hours of my life with the blind sisters of the end times, and filled my belly with the cold waters of the rivers of deceit. I am connected with all the paths of magic, and all those paths led me to you, on this night, committing evil against man.”

          Kendra trembled, watching Sheepdog slip further and further into the portal disappearing beyond their reach.

         “Also,” she added, just as her mouth was about to slip below the surface. “Your friend there posted some shady shit on Instagram earlier today. That was also a factor.”

          In one more breath, Sheepdog was gone, and all that was left of the night was the ruined head of the Lamia, and the sound of approaching sirens in the distance.