#scott presents as perfectly composed to hide his feelings

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

scott and pearl both love plastering over their emotions in equal and opposite ways and its why they're the only ones who usually get through each other's facades

[yeojaa]

( GHOST IN MY BED. )

Sometimes, hating someone is the only thing you can do.

pairing.  jjk x named f!reader.  a bit of jhs x named f!reader (but not really)?

genre + rating.   rockstar!au.  e2l (exes n enemies!).  general flangst?  anguf?  a blend of angst and fluff, tbh.  mainly angst tho.

tags / warnings.  sibling dynamics, introspective sadness, talk about not-so-healthy relationships (obviously), dumbass!jk, asshole!jk, jealous!jk, how many more jk tags can i add?, a silly reference to scott pilgrim.  nothing serious. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ aka the loml!!!

wc.  3.1k

chapter four.

You and Yoongi don’t fight.  It’s always been a point of pride - something to look at and smile on. 

That must be why it feels so terrible now, with his knuckles blown white and enough rage to start a war simmering within his veins.  You’ve never seen him like this:  a world away from your soft Yoon, your best friend, your beloved brother.

“Yoongi, really--” 

“No.  Stop saying that.”  Despite the fact that you know his anger isn’t directed at you - that you’re the farthest target in his mind - it still hurts, like getting caught in friendly fire.  Pinpricks of guilt spill across your skin, nerve endings shot to hell by the way his mouth curls and tears, venom laced between his teeth and draped across his tongue.  “He came here and you didn’t tell me?  I told you - I’ll kill him.”

Hyperbole, you’re sure, but you can’t help the way your heart stutters.  A little oh no for a boy who doesn’t deserve it - whose silhouette still carves a spectacularly painful hole in your chest.

“I didn’t want you to worry--”  It’s not an excuse.  It’s not meant to be.  You never lie to Yoongi.  Frankly, you don’t think you could.  

“You’re my sister.”

It’s enough of a rebuttal that you’re reduced to silence.  He’s right.  You’re family;  family don’t keep secrets.

“I’m sorry,”  you try again, feeble and emphatic.  

There’s an unbearable distance between you - a sea’s worth of sadness that rocks the rickety boat you’ve built.  You can practically see it stretching on and on, sweeping you further and further from his safe shores.  It’s an awful feeling. 

“You’re my sister,”  he repeats, suddenly so tired you worry for him.  For once, he looks that much older than you, as if five years have forced passages of experience within his pages.  “You can’t hide things from me.  Who’s going to be there for you if not me?”  

You want to rebuff him - insist that you’re stronger than he gives you credit for - but you know it’s not what he means.  More than anyone, Yoongi believes in you.  He sees your strength even when you can’t see your own;  he’s been that strength more times than you can count.  

The reality of your situation isn’t lost on you.

He’s the only one who knows everything you’ve been through.  A diary in living breathing form, full of your most shameless secrets, your deepest worries, your worst heartbreaks.  

“I know.”  Apology threads each syllable, stitches them neatly to each other.  The sincerity is blinding, bright white and earnest.  “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”  

The smile he offers is rueful, twisting the edge of his mouth in a manner you’ve adopted over the years.  You return it without thought and then, all at once, the expanse is closed.  He’s laughing - a sound that doesn’t ring true in the way you know it should - but it’s a laugh and you know everything is okay.

“Still worried,”  he returns with a quiet sigh and flick of his wrist.

You’re with him in a breath, curled against his side on the couch you’d cried yourself to sleep on just days ago.  While you’re both far closer in size than you’ve ever been - you were always a tiny kid growing up, even against Yoongi’s own slim frame - it’s reminiscent of your childhood and being caught beneath haphazardly strewn sheets and disorganised chaos in the form of blanket forts.

Dry lips find a home against the side of your head, his arm dragging you to warmth.  “You’re an idiot, you know.”  He says it in the way only an older brother can - with all the frustration and love in the world.  

You do know, intimately well, how idiotic you are.  Have been.  Seemingly always will be.

“I know,”  you mumble, sad into the raised hood of your sweater.  “But I made him leave.”  It sounds like a child begging for praise - to be told they’ve done well.  You won’t deny you need it now.  

Good is the first thing Yoongi says, a little flippant and with a hard set of his jaw.  More comes when he catches your expression and the way the dent forms between your brows, the tiny pout of your lips.  It’s the same face you’ve made all your life - one that hits him right behind the ribs like a Whack-A-Mole game at the carnival.

“You did good, Vivi.  I’m proud of you.”  They’re bandages, sticky and adhesive on the stitches Jungkook’s visit had torn open.  “You’re great and he’s…”  There are words he’d like to use - a million scathing adjectives to paint the asshole in technicolour - but he knows better.  Knows you can’t take it, at least not right now.  “He doesn’t deserve you.  You get that, right?  You’re better off without him.”

You nod against his side but offer nothing further.  The silence speaks worrying volumes.

“You’re not going to answer him again, right?”  

Some half-mumbled non-committal response comes.  Yoongi wants to tear his own hair out.  Better yet, he wants to tear yours out.  Instead, he blows a long exhale through his nose, free hand coming to scrub across his face.  When will you learn?  

“I’m scared.”

It’s so quiet even you hardly hear it, ear tucked against the cotton of Yoongi’s flannel.  You think, for a moment, maybe he’s missed it too.  Then he squeezes you a little tighter:  a silent reassurance.

“Seeing him again just brings back so many memories.”  Every other word is muffled but it’s the most you can do.  Courage is carried quietly - too loud and you’ll shatter it.  “I thought three years would be enough.  It should be, right?”

It’s a rhetorical question;  Yoongi still debates answering it, just for his own sake.

“Maybe he’s changed.  Or maybe I’ve changed.  It could be different.”  It’s a clandestine belief and one you shouldn’t speak to life - especially to your brother.  It spills forth of its own accord, wrong for so many reasons but begging to be asked.  You have no control over it and the hope it sows somewhere within your chest.

“You can’t actually believe that.”  

It’s infinitely more scathing than Hoseok’s reaction, tearing out of Yoongi’s mouth like a bullet.  You can’t help the way you frown, brows drawn and lips pursed.  You’ve known Yoongi your whole life.  Reading between the lines feels like you’re fucking stupid but you know it’s not quite so harsh.  A frustrated you dumb idiot, maybe.

“Don’t make that face.”  

“I’m not making any face.”  

“Yes, you are.  It’s the same one you made when I embarrassed you on your first date.  Also the one you made after you threw up all over Hoseok’s shoes the first night you met him.”  The recollection doesn’t help your cause - you’re grimacing even more deeply, chagrin spilling into misery in the form of red hot heat over your cheeks.  “Don’t resent me for being realistic, Vivi.  You know he hasn’t changed.”

The silence is childish.  You know that.

“You can’t fix people.”

He arrives with flowers.  Two full bunches of your favourite blooms - pretty peonies in shades of coral and lavender.  They’re heavy in his arms, held so gingerly it’s almost comical as he extracts himself from the vehicle he most definitely should not be driving.  He wonders whether you’ll be home - if he’ll get to see your expression when he presents them to you.  He hopes you’ll light up, brighter than the sun in the sky and better than any nightlight.  

What he doesn’t expect is someone walking up the sidewalk, gym bag slung across his shoulder like he’s getting ready to settle in for a long night.  Short - atleast a few inches shorter than himself - with a stupid face that makes Jungkook want to punch it.  Dumb shoes, too.  Who the fuck wears Off-White Jordan 1s in that colourway?

There’s a permanent scowl etched across his face as he watches from behind the tinted comfort of his car, single hand caught around the edge of the door.  He’s vaguely aware of the fact that he’s perhaps crushing the stems cradled in his arms, inked knuckles blown white around quickly crumpling brown paper.

Maybe he’s your neighbour.  Or maybe he’s going to the other house or maybe—

No, he’s definitely walking right up the front path.

The words are out before Jungkook can stop them, shouted into the quiet afternoon more loudly than he anticipates.  “Hey!”

Dumbass with the face turns, full of surprise and wandering eyes.  He hesitates halfway up your stoop, looking stupider than ever as he looks around for the source of the voice.  

Then his stare falls on the brunet with his hands full and it’s like a flip has switched - mouth hardening into a line that raises the hairs on the back of Jungkook’s neck.  He’s glaring at him (or something close to it).  

Seriously - who is this fucker?

“Can I help you?”  Hoseok speaks far more reasonably, at an octave that doesn’t shatter the peace of the residential neighbourhood.  He’s still caught on the steps, fist tight around the strap of his bag as he studies the man - no, boy - that jogs up to meet him, two rungs the only thing separating the two of them.

“Do you know Vira?”

A part of Hoseok flinches at Jungkook’s casual use of your name - like he knows you or deserves to address you like an old friend.  This kid really was clueless.

When he speaks, he’s perfectly composed, tension held tight behind his teeth.  “I said, can I help you?”

Jungkook bristles at the response, some snarky comment threatening to knock the other off his apparent high horse.  He barely catches it, grinding it down into a fine powder beneath his molars.  He has to tread lightly here. 

“I’m a friend of hers.”  Not a lie, per se.  You two were friends;  after all, you’d come when he’d called.  That meant something, right?  Had to. 

“A friend?”  Disbelief slips into place, evident in the tone of Hoseok’s voice, how his brows shift beneath his chestnut fringe.  He knows better than to believe Jungkook - has heard all the heartbreaking stories - but he can’t quite keep the worry from worming it’s way into his thoughts.  They settle uncomfortably, just beneath the surface. “Is she expecting you?”

Everything about Hoseok makes Jungkook hate him.  From the sneakers he wears to the watch on his wrist - understated, all gold, more expensive than a nerd like him should have - there’s something undoubtedly punchable about him.

It certainly has nothing to do with the fact that he’s seemingly close with you.  Definitely not.

“I was going to surprise her.”  The flowers are held aloft, gesticulated in the best manner Jungkook can manage with his arms so full.  “I didn’t know she was expecting you.”  It’s a cheap tactic - recycling words - but he can’t think of much else beyond fitting his foot into this guy’s mouth.

“She’s not.”  Sharp, sparse, with no hint of indulgence.  Hoseok’s not about to get into a verbal sparring match with Jungkook.  It’s not worth his time.  

He is, however, going to put him in his place - and easily at that.

“She’s still at work.”  Slim bundle of keys rise - two unassuming and one for an Audi.  Perhaps unnecessary but Hoseok takes great pleasure in the other’s expression.

Tch is Jungkook’s first thought before the second smacks him straight in the face.  He has a key to your place?  The fact rubs him all the wrong ways despite the fact that he has no right to be bothered;  it isn’t his home any more - hasn’t been in years.  It still hurts, though, right behind his ribs and all the way down to the tips of his fingers.

Is this how you felt all those times?  

Something like nausea builds in Jungkook’s stomach, throwing acid up the walls of his throat.  It burns and strings, licking painfully all the way into his mouth.  His teeth ache - buzz uncomfortably - and his tongue feels suddenly far too heavy.  He wonders if he might choke on it.

Then, slowly, in a voice he doesn’t recognise.  Too soft, years younger, uncertain.  “Can you give these to her?”  He hates it.

He hates even more the way Hosoek looks at him, with such pity Jungkook wants to curl it around his fist and break the older man’s teeth with it.  It’s something he’s seen a handful of times - from you, from your brother, from his worried mother when she thinks he doesn’t notice.  It never gets easier. 

It forces him into a position he hasn’t been in in years:  weak.

“I don’t think so.”  By how calmly Hoseok speaks, it’s almost as if he’s commenting on the weather or passing along a banal bit of information.  It’s far too nonchalant to be breaking Jungkook’s heart, splitting it cleanly in two.

“Why not?”  Jungkook’s petulant, a child denied his favourite toy, forced into time-out.  

That’s not for you screams Hoseok’s expression.  She’s not for you.  “I’m not comfortable with doing so.”  

The sinking feeling hasn’t stopped for Jungkook.  It goes and goes until he wishes he were six feet under, buried under ground as low as he feels.  He should leave.  He knows he should leave - if only to stop the discomfort that’s gripping every nerve, twisting them like an elbow about to snap.  

“Anyway.”  There’s boredom working its way into Hoseok’s stare, relaxing the shape of his mouth until it falls wide around a short, terse sigh.  “If you’re friends, you can get in touch and drop them off later.”  

He’s done playing gatekeeper - can feel his frustration bubbling to the surface in a way he’s not about to entertain.  He nods once, dismissive, before turning away from the so-called rockstar that seems terribly small and the farthest thing from it.

“Goodbye.”  Then he’s disappearing into your home, leaving Jungkook on the steps with his tail between his legs.

You return home three hours later - blissfully unaware of what’s transpired.  

You set your dinner on the kitchen island, deftly unpacking takeout boxes as Hoseok hurries to your side to help.  You don’t mind when he bumps into you, knocking his hip against yours with a heart-shaped smile.

It burns a little brighter than usual.  “Good day?”  

He hums in response, sneaking a yellow tomato from the salad box he’s just popped open.  “Something like that.” 

“Something like that?”  You can’t help but echo him, a pretty parrot with shining eyes and a silk bow in your hair.  “Don’t play coy, Jung Hoseok.”  A digit closes the minimal distance between you, finding purchase against his side - right where he’s most ticklish.

He shrieks, nearly upending the fries he’s tried to dump onto a ceramic plate.

“Hey!”  Hands swat, then fold, catching your fingers between his in an awkward hand-hold.  “Keep your hands to yourself, Vi.” 

“You don’t complain normally,”  you retort.  You’re not wrong.  Skinship with you is one of his favourite things, fourth only to his dog, dancing, and a certain green-labelled soda.

“Well, today’s a special day.”  

Hoseok really doesn’t know where he’s going with his words - only hoping that he’ll find their destination somewhere along the way.  He doesn’t want to tell you too soon, all too aware of how the mention of your ex will bring this perfect moment crumbling down.  He wants to hold it, perhaps a little too tightly, for as long as he can.  He thinks he’s doing you a service, giving you these few extra minutes.

“Oh yeah?”  You’re twinkling eyes and pealing laughter, so far removed from the bag of bones and sadness of only days prior.  It’s hard to believe there’s something broken inside of there - tucked right behind your breastplate and out of sight.

“Yeah.”  

You wait for him to continue, opting instead to fill the silence with mouth noises.  He’ll tell you when he’s ready.  He always does.  

“Jungkook came by.”  It comes halfway through a bite of a french fry, the carb nearly bringing you to an early death when you choke on it.  All at once, everything spins, as if just the name is enough to upend your entire world.  Hoseok’s clapping your back, rubbing soothing circles over the cotton of your shirt, and you’re struggling to find words or breath - heaving around the sudden heaviness.

“What?”  So small, it’s hardly a word.

“He was here when I got here.”  You’re not oblivious to the careful way he speaks, choosing his words with utmost care.  You don’t miss his grip either, gentle and unyielding at your side - as if he might steady you beneath the sudden tidal wave of emotion.  

You do well, keeping your voice level once you’ve found it again.  “And?  What did he want?”

Hoseok does you the great service of pretending as if he doesn’t hear the hope in your voice.  You’re grateful for that. 

“He came with flowers.”  Not quite a laugh comes - more unimpressed and derisive than amused.  “Two bouquets, actually.”  You can feel him studying you from your periphery, his careful stare trained on your face and the dozen emotions that run rampant through it.  “Your favourite flowers too.”

Your laugh matches his own, though far heavier, as if the sound won’t form without immense effort.  “Wow.”

“Yeah.”  It’s a word you’ve heard a lot tonight.  It feels right.  One syllable to encompass every feeling you can’t properly articulate.  “He asked me to give them to you.”  

It should surprise you but it doesn’t.  Jungkook’s never been one to ask - instead taking what he wants - but it’s still funny.  Of course he’d ask that of Hoseok, as if the act itself weren’t terribly strange, the flowers an unwelcome, begging apology.  Jeon Jungkook only did what he wanted - etiquette be damned.

“I don’t see them anywhere.”  

“I told him I wasn’t comfortable doing it.”  There’s a touch of pride, glimmering gold painted over consonants and vowels.  It’s understated in the way that Hoseok always is - not how he looks, but is;  you’re drawn to it nonetheless, squeezing your fingers around his own in a silent thank you.

“I hope it wasn’t weird.”  It must have been.  It’s still the thought that counts.

Hoseok hams it up, scoffing like it’s just been another day.  “Weird?  Of course not.  I have to deal with my friend’s horrible exes all the time.  I’m practically Scott Pilgrim.”  

“Does that make me Ramona Flowers?”  

“No - but you’re my flower.”  He says it in jest, only to make you smile, because he knows you need it right now.

You try not to think of how you prefer Pumpkin, instead.

tag list.  @jalexad @aa-ronpa @kookiesbreaky @celestialflamefairy @xjoonchildx @pars-ley @seokjinssi @youwannabelostandnotbefound @patpus @dazedjjk @koozui @jinhitwhore @always-wishing-for-rain @neverthefirstchoice @snackhobi 

[donttellstiles]

The Panic Attack

THE PANIC ATTACK

CH.6

unedited

♦♡♦♡♦♡♦♡♦♡♦

masterlist

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(gif credit to owner)

I parked the car in front of the address. There were two reasons I was here, one about the whole birthday fiasco to see how much he knew and b... Whatever I happened to be apart of the other day. Everything needed to be sorted out and cleared, I wasn't going to be scared or hide from it anymore, this isn't who I am now. I am completely different, I am stronger, meaner and simply not pathetic like the old Avery. This one knew what she wanted and if anyone was going to stand in her way, good luck to them.

I pocketed my car keys and strolled up to the door, knocking a couple of times. A few moments went by before the door swung open revealing a police officer in uniform. The sheriff as I recalled. I was beyond nervous in front of any police officer, especially a sheriff.

''Hi, sorry for randomly coming over, I was just wondering if I could speak to Stiles for a moment?'' I smiled and tried to show I wasn't nervous. I kept on telling myself I was here for Stiles and to set things straight. He seemed to look at me in shock, taking a few seconds to register what I had said.

''Uhh, sure come in'' He invited me inside. I smiled to him in thanks as he began popping on his jacket.

''Follow me'' He led the way up the stairs and towards a closed door. I could hear harsh whispering from the other side but remained my expression impassive.

''Stiles?'' The Sheriff, Noah, knocked. The door flung open seconds later, Stiles eyes seeming to be wide and alert. it took him a few moments before he noticed me standing next to his dad.

''A-avery, what are you d-d-oing h-here?'' He stuttered out flabbergasted. He knew that if you were here it was not going to end well for him. You hated his guts in his eyes.

''She came here to see you'' Noah seemed to be surprised at this. He had only ever heard her name brought up a couple of times but each time they were he would hear Stiles rant about her. Saying how much she annoyed him and how sarcastic she was. He smiled to himself though, secretly enjoying that Stiles was getting a taste of his own medicine.

I stepped into the room once Stiles moved away from the door. I walked in and let my eyes skim over the place, a typical guys room was all that I concluded.

''So, am I going to hear good things at this parent conference?'' My ears perked up at this, I had totally forgotten all about it. As they continued talking I quickly whipped out my phone, sending Allison a message reminding her. We both had to be present seeing as we were new.

The door closing snapped me out of my thoughts.

''W-why are you here? H-h-how did you know where I lived? What-'' I turned around and glared at him, he immediately fell silent.

''You know exactly why, and the how was easy, too easy'' I smirked and walked over to his bed, sitting down with even asking. I was trying to make him uncomfortable and it seemed to be working, good.

''What the hell was with that little stunt in my locker?'' Stiles was confused for a moment before he remembered. He scoffed to himself, finding her unbelievable.

''You're upset about the card? Really? it was a birthday card get over yourself-'' I angrily hopped off the bed and strode towards him, making sure to get close. He gulped visibly and shrunk back, like he was afraid of me. I frowned to myself, not wanting that reaction but kept going regardless.

''I keep my personal life private, you ever pull a stunt like that again and you will regret it, this is your only warning'' I spat, eyeing him down. He could tell how angry I was.

''I-im s-s-orry, I thought that-''

''That what? I would thank you? Because you and some other girl knew my birthday? Why does everyone assume it's something that everyone wants celebrated? Not everyone likes their birthday, you know? Some people hate it! Some people hate the memories that come with it!'' Woah slow down there, don't you think you're revealing a little too much?

''Some people hate the fact that they are a year above everyone else, some people hate it when false accusations are thrown in their face every year. Some people hate the things that happened on their birthday! Some people just simply detest their birthdays!'' I finished and my eyes widen, I had revealed too much. I was so angry that I just couldn't stop myself. Mr Annoying, however, seemed to compose himself and stared back at me confused, not seeming angry in the least or even uncomfortable anymore.

I took a step back, vile rising in my throat at my recent outburst. I haven't lost it like that in a very long time. I was slowly becoming unhinged again and it was all because of this stupid town. I needed to leave, leave town for a while and clear my head.

But soon I could hear the thumping of my own heart in my eyes. My breathing was becoming rapid and shallow. My vision was becoming a little blurry, the beating in my chest beginning to hurt. My eyes welled up, knowing what this meant. I hadn't had one in almost a year, why was it happening? I thought I had control over this. It was just another thing for people to torment me about, another thing for them to hang over my head.

I could barely feel the slight pressure on my shoulder, softly pushing me until I was sitting down on the bed.  

''Look at me, Avery'' The voice sounded distant but I knew exactly who it belonged to. Great, I was having a panic attack right in front him. He must think I was so pathetic now, that I was never a strong-willed or tough girl at all. I was losing it in front of a stranger and I couldn't stop myself. A stranger who I had grown to dislike quite quickly.

''Look at me, you need to hold your breath'' I felt my face being tilted upwards, two hands on my cheeks. I could barely make out that he was standing in front me as I was sitting down.

''Count to five slowly, follow me'' He seemed to know what to do perfectly. He was't making fun of me or tormenting me at all. I was surprised, maybe he was going to use this later. That was probably it, everyone always did at some point.

''One...'' I tried to follow his counting, trying to match my breathing to his. He was breathing calmly and slowly, trying to get me to do the same. The room was slightly spinning, my head feeling heavy as I almost felt like falling back.

''Two'' Again the same thing, I matched my breathing to his better this time.

''Three'' I was beginning to feel my heart rate slow down, the wetness of my eyes beginning to dry away as my body began shaking less.

''Four'' I was able to breathe more calmly now, the headache that was beginning to form subsiding.

''Five'' With one more breath I felt my heart go back to it's original rate. My hands were still and the headache now gone. My eyes were clear and were able to glance at the boy in front of me, his hands still cupping my face. I could notice his brown eyes with flecks of gold in them. His dark freckles and moles adorning his face. His lips which were slightly parted but nicely plump and pink. I closed my eyes and took a few more deep breaths, making sure I wasn't going to faint.

''Thanks'' I breathed out in relief. I knew this was going to bite me on the ass later but for now I needed to stay calm.

''No problem'' He spoke awkwardly, swiftly removing his hands from my face. The warmth instantly left which saddened me a little.

''How did you know what to do?'' I found myself asking, looking up at him. He tried to advert his eyes from me, growing uncomfortable once again. It seems I had approached something I maybe shouldn't have.

''I used to get panic attacks'' This shocked me. How did this sarcastic, know it all, pain in my ass get panic attacks?

''You did?'' I asked curiously. I knew he didn't feel comfortable talking to me, at all but I was really interested. Here I was thinking I knew him down pat. Maybe that's what I get for stereotyping.

He turned around to face the window before speaking.

''I used to get them a lot when I was younger, not so much anymore'' He stopped short, not wanting to say any more. I didn't push him either, it wasn't like we were friends or anything. And this definitely doesn't change the way I feel towards him, he was still a huge pain that I wanted nothing to do with.

''I'm sorry'' I was apologizing? I never did this, only to family and even then that was rare. He seemed shocked too, turning to face me confused.

''I never thought I would ever hear those words leave your mouth'' I scoffed jokingly and smiled, laughing a little.

''Well don't expect me to ever again, that was a one off'' I joked halfheartedly. He smiled and laughed a little himself, the awkwardness seeming to lift slightly.

It was silent for a few moments, both of us not really knowing what to say or do. I wasn't even sure if I was angry at him anymore.

''And I am sorry about your whole birthday thing'' I looked up and softly smiled, appreciating his honesty.

''I didn't know that... you didn't like it'' He chose his words carefully like he didn't want me to go off at him again. I shook my head.

''It's okay, you didn't know...'' I left my sentenced and looked up at him, watching him for reaction. If he really knew he'd look guilty but he didn't, he just seemed sincere. Maybe I was worrying over nothing. The first sign of my past coming up and I lose it. I needed to get past my old life and start my new one with no regrets.

''But asides that, what the hell is going on with Scott and that Derek bloke?'' You were blunt, beating around the bush was never your style. He gulped nervously, eyes darting everywhere but you. What the hell was he supposed to say? There was no way you were going to believe him, and especially with your parents being supernatural hunters, he couldn't risk his best friends life. So he decided to say the three words he knew you wouldn't believe but would hopefully take.

''I don't know''

~*~*~*~*

''Where is your sister?'' Was the first thing both Mum and Dad asked me as soon as I pulled up at the school entrance. I had tried and tried texting and calling her but she never picked up, I only hoped she was going to be back before me. I hadn't really thought up a good enough lie yet.

''She isn't here?'' I tried to act as if I had no clue. They both looked at each other then back to me, knowing better. I shook my head and laughed to myself, pretending to have forgotten.

''She wasn't feeling well so she decided to stay home'' Again, they glanced at each other, communicating with their eyes.

''She wasn't there'' I furrowed my eyebrows in fake confusion.

''You didn't check her room?'' I asked, trying to advert the attention to them to try and better my lie. They both just shook their heads and began walking into the school.

''We'll speak to her later'' Dad had sounded angry so I knew my lie did not fly. We walked into our science class first, Mrs Greene (Don't actually know her name) greeting us three with a warm smile.

''Hi, you must be Mrs and Mr Argent'' She raised and shook their hands politely. Mum and dad smiled back before taking a seat next to me.

''Allison and Avery are great students, both incredibly sweet girls, and very quick to adjust despite all the moving around'' This wasn't our first rodeo.

Mum and dad however smiled at each other, liking the good things they were hearing so far.

''We know it's hard on them but ah, it's a necessary evil'' Dad spoke up with a warm smile.

''Necessary or not I'd be prepared for some... how do I put this...'' She seemed to try and mark her words carefully, not knowing us well enough to fully explain herself.

''Rebelliousness?'' Dad seemed to be talking mainly to me when he said this but I just shrugged, owning it. Mum took his hand and gave it a soft squeeze.

''We appreciate the concern but we have excellent relationships with our daughters, very open and honest'' I already knew that was horse shit but kept my mouth shut anyways.

''I'm very glad to hear that, let her know that I hope she's feeling better'' I advert my eyes to anywhere but the other three people in the room. Great, Allison and I were going to be in so much trouble.

''She wasn't in class?'' Dad asked, facing Mrs Greene. She tilted her head back and smiled.

''Oh, she wasn't in school'' Motherfucker.

~*~*~*~*

Dad was beyond furious once we left the building. He hadn't said a word and neither had mum, knowing that I was lying to both of them and Allison was no where to be seen.

''Allison, answer your phone now before your grounding arrangements reach biblical proportions'' I wanted to roll my eyes but didn't. I saw Allison's car not too far away in the lot, her and Scott looking a little freaked. I tried to make my way towards them before mum and dad could but failed.

''Kate hasn't heard from her either'' Mum spoke up, placing her own phone away. Dad turned to me and sighed angrily.

''Allison never does this, she's not rebellious, it's Avery that pulls stunt like this, especially around-'' Dad cut himself short once he realized I was still with them. I knew I had been difficult to deal with in the past, it wasn't a secret.

''It's okay, Dad. I'm sure she's fine'' My eyes drifted over her to car.

''Excuse me, you're not Allison's parents are you? I'm Scott's mum and I hate to say this but I can't get a hold of him either'' Mum and dad both scowled at her while I smiled. She seemed genuine and sweet enough. Now I could see where Scott got his manners from.

''You're his mother?'' Dad says with venom. I turned to him and glared, she didn't deserve that.

''Dad-'' I tried but he cut me off with a warning glance.

''Funny how you say that like it's an accusation'' She stood up for herself, I was happy about that. Our dad could be a dick at times, like now.

''Well I wouldn't claim it as a source of pride as he practically kidnapped our daughter'' I rolled my eyes, already over my dads flare for dramatics. Now I knew where I got my sarcasm and drama from.

''How do we know skipping school wasn't your daughter's idea?'' I couldn't help but to stifle a laugh receiving yet again another glare from my parents. Oh how right she was.

''My daughter...'' Dad begins, falling short once he sees Allison and Scot hop out of Allison's car. He sighs to himself and lets goes of some of his worry.

''Is right there'' He watches as Allison approaches, her head bowed down.

''Where exactly have you been?'' We could hear Scott's mum raise her voice in the distance. I felt a little bad for Scott in the moment but knew it was none of my business to get involved. I perked up once Allison reached us, a guilty look adorning her features.

''Allison, get in the car'' Dad speaks, not leaving any room for disagreement. Allison just nods and walks back the way she came, the rest of us following suit.

This was going to be a fun trip home.

''Ahh!'' We all turned around to the sound of some people beginning to shriek and scream in fright. I stiffened slightly, the loud sudden noises shocking me a little too much. Mum wrapped an arm around my shoulder knowingly, pulling me closer to her. She rarely ever showed affection but did when it was important.

People began running and screaming, hoping into their vehicles and zipping out of the parking lot way too quickly. I left my mums side and walked over to Allison, seeing as she now stood beside Scot worriedly. Scott glanced around, trying to use his supernatural senses to see what was going on.

It wasn't until a growl was heard in the air that the panic really set in. Dad had left our side to go to the car. Mum ushered both Allison and I over, leaving Scott.

I heard the growl again, this time closer and moved and into the middle of the parking lot. The noises started becoming too much, the screaming and the shrieking, the cars speeding off as well as a few car alarms drifting through the air. It was happening again. My chest was constricting, not getting enough air in my lungs. My breaths becoming labored and short. I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders, shaking me but I was too panicked. The familiar screams and shrieks from two years ago plaguing my mind.

''Avery'' My name sounded distant.

It wasn't until I saw the Sheriff in front of a car, holding his gun out for the animal. I noticed someone hop in the car, turning the engine on.

''Look out!'' I found enough air to scream out into the night. Without even thinking I raced over, my legs running extremely fast considering I felt like I was going to faint any moment. I managed to push him out of the way just in time before the car lights came on, the driver speeding towards me not slowing down.

''Avery!'' I could hear my mum call out before I felt the car hit my body, sending me backwards. I collided harshly with the tar road, my back and left arm aching badly. I closed my eyes and winced when I could smell a little bit of blood. I glanced down to make sure nothing was broken. I was fine, just a few scraps and bruises luckily.

BANG! BANG!

Two shots were heard loud and clear in the atmosphere. I winced at the sound, feeling it echo in my head over and over again. I rolled over and began sitting up, the sheriff rushing towards me to help as well as my mum.

''Are you alright?'' Noah asked, making sure I was okay. He looked guilty and wished it was him instead of her.

''I'm okay'' I breathed out, feeling my body was calmer then before, probably due to the fact I was just hit by a car probably shocked my system. Though, if the Sheriff was with me, who shot the animal?

I stood up on my own and my eyes widen once I see dad holding  what looked like a pistol, the cougar in front of him laying in a pool of it's own blood. My dad just popped away his gun quickly once Sheriff looked over towards him.

Everyone stopped screaming and shrieking and walked over towards the dead beast. I followed closely behind, holding my left arm as I stood close behind Dad, glancing at his jacket where he placed the gun back into.

What in hell was going on....

♦♡♦♡♦♡♦♡♦♡♦

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'Ingrid is Going to the West': the worst implications of postureo a blow of "I like"

What would happen if buy likes on Instagram  wrote The gifted Mr. Ripley today? Because that undoubtedly would notify the story of fascination, envy and motivation of Tom to Dickie Greenleaf with the social networking sites. In the end, these are becoming, in a short time the top Room in which you can fabricarnos a fresh identity, clearly show ourselves off, to teach what we wish and hide what we do not want the sin to maneuver the website. Son, undoubtedly, un web-site ideal for lying. In them we could see and become seen. Serves for that exhibitionists and voyeurs. For that narcissists as well as cotillas. For many who are neat and those who desire to molar. Genres of wish, but in addition numerous envy a stroke of sensationalism and frivolity. On the basis of such issues, the debutant Matt Spicer has built that we might look at the " white Girl one seeks... with the era of Instagram. A movie during which we discover all The weather of a movie of intrigue and psychological suspense around the worst implications of postureo a blow of tastes and emoticons of hearts. As disturbing as daily life itself. Amid them will arise the friendship. A friendship so forced, superficial and false as the type of existence which have been meant to uplift and that's based in essence on say on a regular basis how neat They're to each other while posing in a photograph etiquetándose and creating the sign from the peace. Ingrid is Going to the West With this regard uncovers the distress they represent a generation that prefers to hide under the carpet their insecurities, their problems, financial or sentimental to fake that every little thing is "most". As supplied Ingrid at a person issue while in the movie, to fit into this circumstance of falsehood, what issues is always to talk about things which molen, of food stuff, of clothes or of Joan Didion, Though don't know even who he is. The director will sale fairly perfectly that mixing the comedy extra uncomfortable While using the thriller malrollero, almost terrifying. From the first time the genres of equally rejection and empathy While using the guide character who performs Aubrey Plaza, Maybe for the reason that we have all been eventually she stalkeando to the article of our desire or our enemies particularly. Referred to as Igrid Goes toward the West, and is Among the most sharp and very clear-sighted parody with regard to the culture of appearances which includes created the digital period. And is usually that, now more than at any time, the image that we make of ourselves while in the virtual Room will become virtually our only type of id on the planet. Additionally, not simply matter Anything you educate but how we train, the framing you use, elements of ornament, the information and also the intent. The postureo is now a matter of hashtags. In that feeling, precisely what is proposed by Matt Spicer is in no way considerably-fetched. How can social networks make us eliminate the viewpoint of reality to lead us to madness? To the a single hand, is usually a psychotic stalker who isn't going to know to differentiate concerning Digital life and actuality. On another, is a lady lost and needs desperately to generally be socially recognized, they come to feel unsuccessful and that in reality don't know who or what you need. That's why, at the rear of that sheen of perfection that each one the planet is striving desperately to provide of face to the gallery, You should not scratch A great deal to find incomprehension, rejection and loneliness, inner thoughts that finally ends up creating a lot of stress and hatred. The movie, which gained the award for greatest screenplay within the Sundance movie Pageant and can be screened within the Pageant American of Barcelona (available on electronic platforms and dvd from 4th April), it's the advantage of to go by light-weight and inconsequential subjects fundamental to knowledge our existing, but the actual star on the present is Aubrey Plaza, a kind of actresses that until eventually now they had usually remained connected to inside the orbit from the indie Which in Each individual part clearly show go considerably outside of almost any label. We experienced observed in operates of worship as Scott Pilgrim against the globe, Damsels in distress or Protection not assured. Below you get to compose a Ingrid disturbing and hateful, but with some extent of enormous fragility. It really is ambiguous and the unpredictable and capture the seem in his eyes, the many emptiness of our time. It is exactly what transpires to your Ingrid, a youthful girl who may have just misplaced his mother and he normally takes refuge in the cell to flee from his despair. Used the working day thinking about images on Instagram till you explode pupils, Placing "I like you" wildly and glorifying their influencers most loved, wishing for being like them. Women who deal with to generate a piece of toast with avocado sea something fresh, which manufacturers are definitely the rifen to market their merchandise, that they travel, exercise yoga, and check out parties of famous people. All of that imposture will grow to be for her in the actual world. Why leave California the identical way they historically have carried out all of those young people in search of to generate your desire occur real: In this case, to obtain to know your Instagramer beloved, Taylor Sloane (Elizabeth Olsen), a girl who's got designed your exposure around the networks, a means of everyday living and has thousands of followers. For Ingrid, her role design and stage of reference.