#i don't give a fuck really about homecoming especially for my high school but. this sounds kinda cool/fun ngl

[supercantaloupe]

oh aw. my high school is inviting choir alumni to sing in a special alumni choir performance at homecoming this fall

[shitishouldnotbepostingonline]

Unromantic

Bro really thought he could just ask.

One of my more lighthearted "men are pigs" stories. For a little background, I went to a small school and grew up in a small town my entire life. Everyone knows everyone. My school was an elementary k-6 and high school 7-12. Yes 17 year olds dated 12 year olds. Yes it was creepy. No that is not this story. My class was only about 35 people and the classes above us were around the same.

Small schools have a lot of dances and usually would raise a good bit of money for whatever club needed money. We had a Hawkins dance, Halloween, homecoming, Christmas, valentines, spring and prom. I know I'm missing one but every other month there was a dance. When I was in middle school, it was a big deal. Who you going with, should we sleepover after, should we get pizza before, can you wait for me by the door so I don't have to go in alone because I'm having a panic attack that I over dressed because what the fuck do you wear to a casual dance at 13 and my dad is dropping me off early so he can have a break, can your mom do my hair. Fun fun fun times. Most importantly, drama. A huge night for drama. Miss one dance, miss all the gossip. Miss one dance, your crush might have started dating someone else. Miss one dance, your an outcast for at least the next week of school. I never missed a dance. Commonly you would find me A. dancing B. consoling in the bathroom or C. gossiping. I'll admit I'm toxic, I know and especially in middle school I was horrible. I was a horrible person who was going through horrible things blah blah blah. Every teen sab story. We all did it. I wasn't the worst but wasn't the best either. Life was about being popular, having friends and especially a boyfriend.

So, one of these dances is coming up. It's the homecoming. One that you are definitely supposed to have a date to. I'm single, actually thinking about it, I think this time period was the longest I've been single ever. I'm single and chat up this guy a grade above me. Let's call him Mark. We share a study hall together and Mark's definitely not popular but he is older then me which will give me points on the invisible popularity scale. My first impression was he's kind, funny and dorky so we spark a friendship. We start talking on kik (rip) and everything is normal to a 14 and 15/16 year old texting in the early 2010's. He's a bit odd and talks to me a little weird. I would later on recognize this as misogynistic but I was 14 and it was a different time. Fast forward to the week leading up to the dance and I'm dropping mad hints that I want him to ask me. I was freaking out that I had no one to go with. I was in between friend groups and was kind of at my first "big depression" period. He finally agrees to go with me (I don't think he ever actually asked). I definitely wore him down with constant texting and always saying hi when we passed in the hall. I think the worst part is I didn't like him. I just felt like I need a boyfriend for the attention everyone gives you once you start dating.

We decided (I decided) to go to the dance together. We make a plan and Mark changes it last minute saying he's not going unless I meet him at his house so we could walk together. Mark also made it a point to mention he was home alone. Cool fine no red flag there. At least not to my 14 year old dumb fuck self. The problem being my dad is bring me. Dad doesn't know I have a date. Dad doesn't know this kid and is not going to like that Mark wants me to go over to his empty house. So what do I do? I just didn't fucking tell my father. Waited for dad to leave. Then walked on over to Mark's place. Dumb yes, but if you want to understand how I was raise by people who are hands off or overly trusting/don't care that would take 37 page thesis paper.

I find Mark's house and at this point the dance has started. Did I mention he had the tickets so even if I refused to go over I would not be able to get into the dance. It's cold, I'm in a dress, heels, and I come from a place where it fall is 40° at night. Anyways I knock on the door and he yells for me to come in. When I say that womanly instinct sent red flags off throughout my whole body, I'm not kidding. Rightfully so. I was lying about where I was, who I was with and what I was doing. To say I was nervous was an understatement. I was terrified. I go in the house and shut the door behind me. We just kind of stare at each other until I break the overwhelming silence with a

"are you ready to go"

In which he responds

"a yeah but do you want to chill here for a bit"

Me, confused because I just spend hours getting ready and had a plan of action laid out in my head says

"I mean the dance already started"

This kid, props to how much guts it probably took, asks me

"well I was hoping you would let me eat you out first, then we'll head over".

The only thing I picture now is him hyping himself up all day to ask me that but at the time it was a different feeling. I can not describe in words what the hell was going through my mind. Like what? You can just ask that? Did he just ask that? Like he wants me to just what lay on his bed as he eats me out???? We haven't even kissed, held hands, nothing was leading me to believe that we had reach that level of intimacy. We are not even dating. I do what most women would do in that situation and play it off as he's just joking. I laugh and say let's go in a lighthearted voice. But no he doubles down. I remember think Jesus Christ please stop you are ruining any chance of anything happening.

"So is that a no"

How do I respond with out sound like a dick but also not agreeing because this kids is persistent. So I say as simply and as nicely trying not to embarrassing him

"Oh um I'm not really into that. I was hoping we could just go to the dance"

Then the most awkward walk of my young adult life happened. We did like 2 or 3 slow dances together but I spend most of my time consoling a friend in the bathroom. He tried to kiss me before I left but I think I dodged it with a hug.

So what do you think happened next? I have to see him everyday and we texted like constantly. He may of even apologized for being weird. Friend zone? Ghosted to the best of my ability? Told everyone what the fuck that kid asked me? No no and surprisingly no. I kept it to myself for quite a bit. It felt like to much for me to process at that time to tell anyone. We ended up dating for 2 weeks. Worst 2 weeks of my life. I underestimated just how much people disliked him and was starting to get laughed at for being with him. Which I would take if I actually liked him at all. As soon as we started dating the only thing he talked to me about in study hall was his dick. I mean like hyping it up for me. Acting like I was going to drop my yoga pant right there and just jump on him. I made it 2 weeks and the second week was just because I didn't know how to break up with him. Which I did in person. First time I've ever broken up with someone in person. It was mean yes but all this kid did was talk about his dick for 40 minutes a day. I bluntly said

"I'm not going to do this anymore. You just keep talking about your dick and it weirds me out. So I'm breaking up with you"

That was that. Didn't ever really talk to him again. We weren't on like bad terms but not good ones either. He did date a girl younger then me for a hot minute but other then that I do not think he dated anyone else while we were in school. My mom said she saw Mark an said hi but that was years ago. I still have him on socials and he's been popping up recently which is what inspired me to share this tidbit. I hope he is a bit more romantic in the bed room for who ever he ends up with.

I know I am to blame and I was cruel for potentially leading him on. I take responsibility for my part of being a fucking asshole when it came to petty shit like being popular or seen so by your peers. Funny thing was about this time I start having a new group of friends who were the more "outcast" type. Eventually they would be my friends for the rest of high school. I would blow up every single one of those friendships slowly until graduation. Probably doing permanent damage to all of our mental health along the way. I am not the good guy. In most my stories I have, especially from high school, I am just as much the villain as victim. I know that. If I could go back in time and have a chat with myself, I would. Live an learn.

[razrbladekiss]

Tyrants | Chapter Three - Presage

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of Wendy’s drug use. Nothing explicitly *bad* goes on here, just some of the usual SOA shit is hinted at. :) Tig <3

MASTERLIST

Ninety degrees was horrendous. Ninety-six degrees saw Isla spiraling toward a fully-fledged mental breakdown, desperate to climb out of her own fucking flesh and melt into the parking lot outside of St. Thomas.

Seeing the Sons sporting leathers, hoodies, and long-sleeved shirts underneath their cuts made her skin crawl, too.

She'd thrown on the flounciest summer dress she owned, thin and wispy, and she was still roasting to death underneath the Californian sunshine.

It felt like they were living in the fucking ass-crack of hell.

Though, with their current state and Charming's infestation of ATF and other federal agents, hell wasn't too far off the mark.

"Thanks for the ride." Isla expressed her gratitude as she slid off of the back of Tig's bike, pulling the helmet away from loose blonde curls.

"No problem, baby--you good to get home, yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm meeting Gem here, so she'll take me back to T M in time to pick my car up," she confirmed, readjusting herself.

She couldn't risk Tig Trager getting an eyeful of her asscheeks today. Not again, anyway.

"Perfect. See 'ya later, beautiful." Isla leaned in for him to peck her cheek--which was habitual for the pair--and she did the same.

Her smile was wide. She was beaming. "Bye, Tiggy. I love you."

"Love you too, kid." He reciprocated the smile, squeezing her hand as she broke away and padded toward the steps, brushing her fingers through wind-tousled strands.

Things were, for the first time in about a week, finally looking up. Resuming a sense of normality, perhaps.

She and Trager had been on precarious terms since that day, and had been avoiding one another altogether. Which, for them, was strange.

Days went by without even so much as a word being uttered between the pair, no backhanded comments, or even sideways glances.

Usually, they'd be bickering like kids, arguing nonsensically until Clay or Chibs broke them apart--but it was all just their little bit of fun. Because they bounced off of one another.

They lauded the relationship they shared because, really, it was one of the strongest.

He'd been her official favorite since the very day that they met--he and Bobby were the two she liked to talk to whenever she felt that she couldn't confide in her father.

But the last few days were so fucking hard. She was struggling with the weight of all that she did, coupled with the stress of not being able to discern Tig's current feelings on her.

And after she'd lashed out, had bitched at him for no fucking reason, she was pretty certain that Tiggy didn't want to know anymore.

That was thrown out of the window this morning, however, when Isla's clutch blew out, and she needed a ride from the garage to the hospital to see Abel.

Of course Tig was there for her. He always would be.

"Hey." Isla spoke softly as she held the little blue bear close to her chest. "I stopped by the gift shop on the way up here--Jax said he's already got bears and balloons comin' outta his ass, so I thought what's one more?"

Gemma couldn't help but smile, gesturing for the blonde to sit with her opposite Abel's isolette.

"He'll love you for it," she joked, though she knew that she was appreciative. For her company more so the stuffed animal.

With their commitment to the club and the current battle against the ATF, Jax and Clay weren't as hands on as what they usually would've liked.

Of course, Teller was at that baby's side whenever he got the chance to break away from SAMCRO, but he wanted more. He wanted the satisfaction of knowing that his little boy was being provided with the best possible care at St. Thomas.

And he was. He absolutely was. But he needed to know--for his own peace of mind, he needed to see that. So, his mother was there every waking fucking moment, giving him that love he could only get from his Grandma.

"How's he doing?" Her query was braided around a whisper, worried she'd disturb Abel's peaceful rest. "Jax said he should be coming home soon."

Gemma simply affirmed with a nod, gazing affectionately at her grandson.

It was heartwarming to see so much love, so much adoration from a woman who had a reputation for being a fucking cunt--thus proving that Gemma's main priority was her family, and their health and happiness.

That, somehow, made Isla love her even more than what she already did.

It also made her a tad jealous of Jax and the fact that he still had his mother in his life.

"He's gettin' stronger and stronger everyday. Tara said he'll be set to leave Friday--"

"Tara?" Her brow lifted as she put the bear amongst the pile of gifts. "I thought she was a doctor, I didn't think she had anything to do with the babies?"

Gemma's smile faltered a little. "She's a pediatric surgeon. Been takin' care of Abel since the start."

"Oh."

Now, she would've known that if she'd taken the time to visit her best friend's kid since he was born. But she hadn't--she hadn't even considered taking a trip over to St. Thomas to check in on Jax's baby.

And it was for the simple fucking reason that she couldn't bear the thought of facing Wendy and having to be nice to her. Especially after what she fucking did to that poor little boy.

She subsequently landed her own flesh and blood in the hospital after shooting heroin while pregnant? And she wanted Jax to pardon her for it?

Isla wasn't a hateful person, she didn't care about what people did in their spare time because that was their time.

But the moment an innocent person was harmed due to the carelessness of others...That was when she felt a scathing animosity.

"She's good with him." Gemma stated bitterly, snapping Isla from her ire-fueled daydream. "Kills me to say it, but she's a gem. A real fuckin' star."

"I'd bet. She was always good with kids."

"Yeah?" Suddenly interested, the older woman crossed over her arms. "Who's kids?"

Finally, Isla took a seat beside her on top of plush blue leather.

"A few of the girls we were in high school with had kids pretty young and Tara was usually super keen to hold them, or just hang out at their places whenever we weren't at school. Or it could've just been the wannabe doctor in her, now that I think about it."

"She's pretty maternal," Isla hummed in agreement, "but I'm glad she and Jax never had kids when you were teenagers--I don't know how that would've looked for him."

Suddenly, she was staring at Gemma like she had two fucking heads.

"I don't trust her." She elaborated, drawing another confused glance from Isla. "She and Jax would have been a fucking disaster had she stayed--"

"And things worked out so much better with Wendy?" A little more vehemently than intended, the blonde asked.

Now Gemma was the one shooting dirty looks.

"Look, Gem, I'm just saying. Jax and Tara are history now, yeah? You don't have to trust her. Just thank her for what she's doing for your grandson because when he's outta this place, you won't need to worry about her."

"And you're so sure about that, huh?" Skeptically, she asked. Arms folded over. "You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another."

That line gutted her.

It hurt her--it was agonizing--but she wasn't sure why she was so beaten by it. Because it was the truth, wasn't it?

Tara and Jax were, at one point, the strongest couple she'd ever known, and when it fizzled out he was fucking broken. She hadn't seen him so downtrodden since JT had passed, and he was suddenly left without the strength and guidance of his father.

She was his everything. Isla was a fool to think he'd be able to see her back in Charming and not feel something for her. His first love.

"I think we should throw Abel a homecoming party on Friday--if he's coming home then, that is." Gemma shifted the topic of conversation, getting to her feet.

"Absolutely. I'll help."

"Yeah?" She asked a little doubtingly, reaching over to pick Abel up. "You don't have to--I know you work Friday's."

Isla waved her off, standing beside the brunette. "I do, but it's no bother. If everyone's gonna be there, then I wanna show my face too. Offer a helping hand of some sort."

"Alright, perfect," Gem stated softly, holding the baby close to her chest. "When we get back to T M, we can figure out what we need to get."

"Sounds like a plan--" Isla was cut off by a soft knocking at the door, irritating her a little bit because she'd only just gotten there and hated the idea of having to leave already.

She made a mental note to stop by a little earlier tomorrow.

"Hey, sorry to bother you--" Tara stopped herself when she needed her estranged friend, almost dropping the clipboard she was holding against her chest.

Isla Telford was the last fucking person she expected to see today.

"Hey," with a fake smile, she greeted.

The tension was palpable.

Gemma felt the irritation washing over her favorite of the duo, urging her to turn her attention back toward her grandson before she said anything to worsen the situation.

Because she would've.

"Uh, I've gotta run a few tests on Abel before we determine that he'll be ready to leave this week, if that's alright?" Tara gestured to Gemma, ignoring Isla's presence.

That stung a little bit.

"Yeah. It's fine." The response was blunt. Terse, to a point.

"Great."

Isla realized that she wasn't wanted in that space any longer. She grabbed her purse, turning toward the door. "I'll meet you outside."

"Yeah, alright," Gemma put the baby back into his crib, smiling at Isla. "You want my keys?"

"I'll wait on the steps--I'm gonna smoke--"

"Before you go," Tara cut in. She cleared her throat, trying to smile--but she just couldn't.

Telford sensed where it was going, however. There wasn't a reason for her to stop Isla in her tracks, in front of Gemma no less.

She wondered how long it'd take for it to be brought up.

"Thanks."

Gratitude genuinely swept over the doctor, letting Isla know she was truthful in her acknowledgment--or, was it more like a form of praise? Because Jax definitely told Tara what they both did for her, and she was astounded that the woman would even float the idea of helping out.

It was a strange notion. To know what she did--when she looked and acted like that--was fucking weird. And nobody would've believed her if she said that Isla helped to dispose of a dead body, which did make her laugh a little.

She knew how to hold, load, and fire a pistol, but she wasn't capable of committing the unspeakable the same way that Jax, or Chibs, or Clay were capable of it.

But she was slowly earning her title as 'Daughter of Sgt. At Arms/ Man of Mayhem.' And she wasn't sure how she liked that.

"You're welcome," she spoke plainly. "Hope everything is alright now, Tara."

"It is."

"Good." Her retort was immediate, laced with that same genuineness the other woman expressed. "You free this coming friday?"

Hesitantly, she nodded.

"If all goes to plan--and Abel is good to come home--we're gonna throw a little party for the boy," Gemma confirmed with a nod. "You wanna swing by? Everyone'll be there--Donna, Ope, their kids, Wendy, the rest of the Sons. You should come. It'll be nice for everyone to see 'ya again."

Wendy's name falling from those pink lips, in such a positive light, maimed Isla. She and Jax were starting to get along a little bit better now, but she was still wary of that woman.

"Yeah. It'll be great," the older woman added.

Tara felt cornered. She knew that she wasn't really wanted, and she also knew that was a way for Isla and her menopausal best friend--old enough to be her fuckin' mom--to keep the doctor as close as possible without explicitly saying that they wanted to keep an eye on her.

"Sure. I'll stop by."

"Brilliant." Gemma conceded, slipping past the pair. "Address hasn't changed, sweetheart."

It was passive aggressive, sickly-sweet, and it was Gemma to a fucking T. The woman was loathing every second she had to spend with Tara Knowles and she wasn't even trying to hide it.

But it didn't have to be for very long, she thought.

"What was that all about? Why'd she thank you?" Gem queried as they got outside, passing the lighter to her left.

"For not breaking her fucking neck when I had the chance to all those years ago, probably."

Isla sparked her cigarette, pacing alongside her as they headed toward the car.

"That's bullshit."

"How so?"

"Just is." She could read Chibs's little girl like a fucking book. "But I won't press--if it's something between you and Tara, I don't care to hear. Just lemme know if it goes south. I can put a bullet in her for you, baby."

Isla would've laughed had she not known that Gemma was deadly fucking serious about blowing Tara's brains out.

But it was a relief. For her to give it up just like that--uncharacteristically so--was a kind of relief that she never thought she'd feel from Gemma Teller.

She was used to being protected. Used to being viewed as the one that needed to be shielded from the horrors that shrouded the Sons. But Isla wasn't innocent, nor was she fucking stupid.

The security was appreciated, however. Because, lately, things just didn't seem to be going too great for her.

And, if she'd learned anything, they'd only worsen from here on out.

"You don't have to go full mama bear mode, Gem. I'm a big girl."

She laughed, turning to face Isla.

"I know," smoke blew from her nose, "but you've gotta protect the ones you wanna keep close, y'know? The ones you love."

The tip of Gemma's boot pulverized her cigarette into the sidewalk as she fished for the car keys, avoiding eye contact all together.

"I haven't been able to protect everyone I've wanted to from the shit that goes on in this town, honey, but I'm really tryin'. And I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you or my boy."

[ask-aurachnid]

Close call!

Send ‘Close call’ for us to recount one way we almost died!

Danny: I'll go first for this one. Turns out that being the Ghost King makes me an even bigger target than usual, especially to people like Skulker, who are mostly just trying to kill me for bragging rights.

Danny: So just after my coronation, he makes his way out of the Ghost Zone, and confronts me on my way back from school. Things started to go wrong when he stomped on my throat to keep me from using my wail. It wasn't a problem at first because breathing is optional in ghost form, but it did hurt.

Danny: And then he kept coming at me. He ended up snapping my right arm, slicing my back open, and breaking enough ribs to give me flail chest, which is not fun, but again, I don't need to breathe as a ghost.

Frankie: What the fuck...

Danny: I had a hard time staying in ghost form long enough to get myself stable, but thankfully my sister had some early development Ecto-Dejecto lying around, which made it a bit easier.

Frankie: Well that's quite the act to follow, but uh... I'm sure most spiders are familiar with Vulture, and I don't think I shared this story when it happened.

Frankie: Toomes was pulling his usual high-tech bullshit. Still, I had it under control, or at least I thought I did.

Frankie: I thought I was winning because he kept missing me, and I got cocky. That's when he said, "You know, I pulled this same trick on Spidey way back when? Homecoming night, actually. I thought he was such an amateur, falling for something so simple. Apparently, you are too.”

Frankie: The ground started shaking, and Vulture was gone before I realized what he'd really been doing. He'd taken out all of the support pillars in the building, and it collapsed on top of me.

Frankie: It uh... it sucked. It was just short of a year after the Vanishing, so I hadn't started on JUDOS, let alone integrated her into the suit. I couldn't reach my helpline phone unless I wanted to drop ten tons of concrete on my chest, and my mask was getting soaked with water, so I couldn't breathe.

Frankie: Some rebar had sliced my left hip open pretty bad, and my right leg was broken, so I was in a lot of trouble. No matter how much I screamed, no one was going to hear me, at least not in time. And I can't lie, I still get nightmares about it sometimes, and I had a pretty bad flashback about it when I was on the run in Alabama.

Frankie: Eventually I managed to pull myself together enough to push the concrete up enough to wiggle out, and ended up straining both my shoulders in the process. And then I threw up from the pain.

Frankie: This was also before the Clinic opened, so I had to do a whole bunch of bullshit to protect my identity to get actual treatment for like... the broken bones and stuff.

Danny: Dude...

Frankie: [sarcastic] Oh like this is worse than a broken arm and flail chest.

[daxtastic]

High School Tips from a Transgender Graduate with Mental Health Issues

- DON'T CONSTANTLY SKIP SCHOOL

- Yes, mental health days are super important but the stress will get worse if you fall too far behind

- Make friends/acquaintances with at least one person in each class. If you miss a day, get notes/homework/ect from them.

- If you're like me and dont bother using a locker, at least keep some things like extra clothes, a jacket, pads/tampons, water, snacks, and even pain meds. (Yes, pain medication. If you've got cramps or a headache or such, trying to get medicine from the school office is a huge headache. Please safely self medicate and do not accept medication from unfamiliar people)

- The whole "high school party" thing is a complete lie. Nobody is going to offer you drugs. It's not cool to drink alcohol underage. Everyone is too tired, stressed, and busy to even consider having large get togethers.

- Join an after school club if you're not part of a sport/art/ect. Clubs can help you make friends with people who share common interests, and they're a great way to relax after school or do homework with others.

- There's no shame in needing tutoring. It doesn't make you less smart. Actually, you're much smarter than most people who dont accept tutoring opportunities. Better understanding your classes will help you not stress out so much.

- EAT. I understand, no one wants to wake up earlier than they have to to eat food, and I know I can't eat before 6am. Find some easily-packable snacks and bring them to school with you. Most teachers wont mind if you munch on something quietly through homeroom.

- Packing a lunch can often be a hell of a lot cheaper than buying lunch, plus public school food is gross as hell.

- Lunch can be daunting, especially if you dont know anyone. Dont stress about it. Nobody's going to look at you weirdly for eating alone. Nobody's going to harass you if you ask to sit at an empty seat at a busy table. Most are too busy playing on their phones or goofing off with friends to give two shits what you're doing.

- If you're not a person who eats lunch (hopefully you at least snack because that 7 to 2 stretch feels a lot longer with a growling stomach) the library is always an option to escape the busy lunchroom.

- Take a studyhall. DO NOT PUT IT AS YOUR FIRST COUPLE CLASSES. So many people make that mistake and then put off their homework/studying until that morning studyhall. Don't do it. Have it as a middle day class or end of day class to work on homework and study for quizzes.

- Quizlet will save your fucking life. Use it.

- Desmos has a free online graphing calculator

- keep a calendar, even if it's on your phone. Write down due dates and test dates. Color code your classes if you can.

- Sleep.

- school can be really hard on anxiety and depression. If you need help, please reach out to someone. I suffered 4 years unmedicated because I thought I had to deal with my problems alone. Don't make my mistake.

- You dont have to kill yourself to get straight A's. Straight C's still graduate.

- Honors/College Prep classes look better on records than average level classes. Although more difficult, a B in a more difficult class is better looked upon than an A in an average class.

- Not everyone goes to prom or homecoming. If you dont want to go, dont.

- bring headphones wherever you go

- keep cash on you just in case

- if you're dragging throughout the day, many schools have vending machines with soda. Quarters are friends.

- If you get a chance to do post secondary classes or classes that are worth college credits, take them if you can. Completing some college credits while in high school can save you money in the long run, and you may be able to even graduate high school/college early. (I only have 3 years of college credits to complete because I finished a whole year or credits my junior/senior year)

- ADHD makes high school miserable. Small fidget toys, rings, bracelets, necklaces, or even necklaces designed specifically to be chewed on can severely assist in keeping you focused. Taking notes can help as well.

- TAKE NOTES

- ORGANIZED NOTES

- PLEASE

- Study study study. Study the week before the test. The night before. The morning of. Even walking TO your class. STUUUUDDDDDYYYYY.

- Escaping to the bathroom to cry one out isnt uncommon. It's actually going to make you feel better.

- Dating sucks for everyone. You dont need a significant other, and often it can add to stress.

- Whoever thinks being a virgin at 18 is lame or uncommon is fucking backwards.

- If you find yourself having sex, please please please please use a condom and be safe.

- Everyone has had their heart broken. If you find yourself in the same situation, talk to someone. I turned people away thinking they wouldn't understand. Accept help. Accept a shoulder to cry on. Accept comfort from someone else.

- My trans friends. High school can be hell. Luckily our generation is much more open to the LGBT+ community. You dont have to be out if you'd prefer/feel safer in the closet. If you're out, be proud of yourself.

- You can request name/pronoun preferences with simple emails to teachers. They've got two choices: accept or say no. No matter what they choose, you are strong, brave, and valid and I love you.

- Bathrooms can be hard. If you're in a rather closed minded school like I was, using a teacher restroom/nurse restroom can always be an option.

- If you're antisocial like me, avoiding after school events can become a common thing. I encourage you to at least go to one. They're surprisingly fun, even if you're only there to people watch.

- ALL OF YOU ARE WORTHY OF LOVE, HAPPINESS, AND ATTENTION. YOU'RE STRONG, SCHOOL SUCKS, BUT YOU CAN DO IT. I BELIEVE IN YOU, AND I LOVE ALL OF YOU SO MUCH. PLEASE BE SAFE. YOU WILL GET THROUGH THIS.

[spideyxchelle]

Peter's a freak because he was in band. You may leave the band but the band doesn't leave you. I don't make the rules (as in band kids being the freak in the sheets/ those kinky 👀)

OHHHHH MY GOOODNEEEESS. so, fam, fun fact. i work for an orchestra. love me some orchestra music. sorry if this is nerdy af. and like longer than I expected. it got out of control. nsfw.

also, the piece I included is loooong af and really weird but is an absolute masterpiece. if you have 30 minutes take a listen. be prepared that its got its moments of off-the-wall craziness but its beautifully balanced with some of the most melodic, gorgeous sections ever put to score. 

Peter Parker lived for band before he got bit by a spider and became a spandex-wearing superhero. lived for it. he spent the better part of middle school playing the violin poorly, learning how to read music and scratching out basic mozart like a dying animal. but in middle school he takes up the horn and its like his whole life shifts. its a bit of a struggle at first, he’s small and his lung capacity is only so much, but he can read music from the violin and the conductor at their middle school really spends individual time with each and every one of his students.

so when it came time to take electives in high school he didn’t even hesitate. he signed up for band. and freshman year is awesome. sure, carrying around his horn case between classes is a little bit like having a gigantic target LITERALLY on his back. but when he enters the music room seventh period to play its all worth it.

they’re not very good, lets be real. but its not about talent for Peter. its about community. feeling like a part of being something bigger.

there is one person who is in band that is actually good. and its Michelle Jones. his freshman year he doesn’t talk to her much because, she’s what the kids call, fucking terrifying. but she plays the oboe like a champ. he can’t take that from her.

and, he’s not gonna lie, her carving reeds with her knife in the middle of the cafeteria is the most badass thing he’s ever seen.

it’s the most lowkey threatening display of power he’s everwitnessed in his fourteen years but then, the story goes as follows: Peter gets bit by aradioactive spider just before Christmas his freshman year, his Uncle Ben getskilled because he refuses to act three weeks later, and by the new year he isthe fighting crime as the prototype-Spider-Man. he stays in band and roboticsbut, then, on the sixth month anniversary of him gaining his powers Tony Starkshows up in his living room and turns his life 5000% upside down. he’s in Berlinon mission like a REAL LIFE AVENGER….and then he’s dropped back in his lifelike it never happened. 

the two months of school are spent wishing for a phonecall that never comes. sophomore year starts and in one foul swoop he’sdropping band and robotics club….and decathlon. and he’s fighting Vulture andgetting his suit privileges revoked and it’s not even halfway through Octoberwhen homecoming happens and he gets his suit back and an Avenger offer fromTony

even though he decides to ultimately protect the little guya little bit longer….Peter doesn’t rejoin band or robotics club. 

he hasn’tpracticed his horn since June. he’s so out of practice that even their crappyorchestra would suffer from his playing. but he misses the familiar weight of his case on his back ashe dodges and weaves in the hallways. 

MJ, who has assumed the captain role in decathlon, alwayshas her parts on her for whatever they are working on in band. and that is howthey connect. over music.

she leaves her parts in the auditorium one day and he findsher the next day and hands her the music. “you left this,” hemumbles. she squints at him but takes her music, “you couldn’t have textedme? I would’ve grabbed it last night so I could practice.” he flushes,“sorry, I just…” the truth? he’d spent the night pouring over thepages and reading along to a recording of the piece. “don’t,” sherolls her eyes, “thanks for getting this to me, Parker.”

and that seems like that’s that. but she sits with him andNed at lunch. the latter seems mortified. but she looks right at Peter,“you put markings in my score.” he gulps, “I listened to Berlindo it. I like some of the tempos and markings better than what’s in that.”“so you just decided to write all over my music?” “yes,” heowns. she gives him a once over and takes a bite of her sandwich,“okay.“ 

that’s how it begins. she starts to purposefully leave hermusic behind at decathlon practice. and he takes it home, every night, and addshis own markings. it’s not like being in band, but it’s pretty damnclose. 

and then, his chem book goes missing. he’s certain he didn’tlose it with the latest backpack but he can’t find it. until the next day atschool it’s in his locker. he opens to the chapter they are reviewing in classand it’s got notes in it. ideas. in MJ’s hand writing.

it’s not the most orthodox friendship, their back and forthnote markings, but it’s how they communicate. and Peter looks forward toreading her thoughts on everything: science, English…especially history. hercommentary is gold. but sticks to her instrumental parts only. and he’s got ahunch that she knows he misses it. she’s freakin’ brilliant. of course shedoes.

but then….his Stark notebook goes missing. the notebookwith all of his webbing formulas and suit designs. it’s like his private diaryon all things Spider-man and she’s got it. no one else would take it. only MJ. he’s not sure what the fuck to do. like, MJ is a friend. butshe’s the weird, we-don’t-really-talk-just-share-notes kind of friend. ifthat’s even a kind. 

and he’s not sure if he trusts her with Spider-man. 

he spends the whole night warring with himself over whetheror not to call MJ, to text her, to put on the suit and go to her apartment. buthe resists.

and so, the next day at school, he takes a deep breath andopens his locker door. his notebook is propped up against the left wall of hislocker and when he opens it there is only one sentence written in MJ’s messyscrawl.

I like Black Panther better.

his face erupts into the most outrageous grin and that isthe first moment his chest tightens at the thought of her.at lunch, MJ joins, as per usual, what is notusual is her offhanded comment, “so I have some thoughts on improvements on thewebbing.” Ned chokes and Peter pales. Ned elbows Peter, “dude, whatthe hell?” “calm down,” MJ sips her tea, “I found hisdiary.” Peter huffs, “it’s my design journal. not a diary.”“It’s a diary,” she shrugs.

Ned puts his apple juice down and looks between them, “what’s going on?” “i want in to whatever superhero dumbness you’re both up to,” she shrugs, offering Ned some of her chips. he grins and steals a few. “i say we let her help,” Ned chomps on chips, “guy in the chair could have a sidekick.” “not anybody’s sidekick,” she drawls. and peter groans. 

but MJ on team Spider-man is kind of awesome. she’s around nearly every day after school and on the weekends. but because she’s around all the time, she stops stealing his books to put notes in and stops leaving her scores out for him to write in. he tries to reason that it shouldn’t sting. she’s around every day now. but it does. because their weird note ritual was just for them. he always felt really close to her doing that.

and….no markings means the last connection he has to band is severed. 

he misses the notes but by the end of sophomore year he has more pressing things on his mind. like he’s growing crush on MJ and Thanos. the second of the two rips him out of school and launches him into FUCKING space. without notice. without warning. 

there is no time. the end of the world doesn’t wait for him to leave a note behind to Aunt May. the Avengers call and Peter jumps. 

that means, for the entire month of May, Peter is one of those missing kids. one that is on the news and has posters. and May is inconsolable, Ned is worried sick and MJ feels wrong. like, she has this sinking feeling in her stomach that something very bad has happened. Tony Stark hasn’t been seen for a month either. but Stark Industry’s insists his on a retreat. 

MJ knows what that means. and she knows whatever retreat Tony is on, Peter is there, too. 

they’re on some freakin’ planet that Peter can’t even pronounce when he thinks he’s going to die. actually, he’s pretty certain. his chest is trapped under Thanos’ foot and his life begins to flash before his eyes. he knows its like a Peter Parker greatest hits reel. and so many of the memories he holds on to as he blacks out are of May, Ben, Ned….and MJ. she’s in more of them than he would have expected. and god. he doesn’t wanna die.

Tony saves him. at a cost. and the war is won. 

when they fly back into Earth’s orbit, Happy silently drives Peter home. neither of them know what to say to each other without Tony as a buffer. and Mr. Stark’s death lives in this car. 

when he knocks on his front door, a little worse for wear, May throws it open and sobs. she yanks him into her arms and squeezes. he clings back, “hiya May.” she slaps him on the top of his head, “don’t you hiya May me, young man. where have you been?” he hiccups, “Tony is dead.”

the two Parkers collapse in the doorway together and hold each other tight. 

he returns to school three days later and everyone looks at Peter like a ghost. he’s been gone for a month. his return is jarring. the teachers all looked thrilled to see him. but he knows he carries around his trauma like a cloud floating above him. everyone can see he’s fucked up. they just don’t know about what.

Ned doesn’t even care. he’s just so happy to see his friend, to have him back. and Ned’s voice makes Peter feel so normal. 

he avoids his locker all day, he doesn’t want his books or his notes or anything. he’ll just sit in class, thanks.

but at the end of the day, he needs to grab his history book to do homework. and when he opens his locker he’s shocked. 

there, pilled nearly to the top of his locker, is music. sheet music. hundreds of pages of it. music he’d never heard before, composers he’s unfamiliar with. and on every piece is a note from MJ. about why that specific piece reminds her of him. its like hundreds of pages of love letters. each one with music to echo her sentiments. 

he leaves his history book behind and drags all of the scores home. he grabs his computer and begins to listen to each one. some are as short as three minutes, others are as long as a half hour. one for every day he was missing. some pieces are sweeping and romantic, others are furious and angry like she was spitfire mad at him for being gone. 

the last score at the bottom makes him confused. it can’t quite decide if its romantic and longing or furious or devastated, it twinges like heartbreak. he turns it over to the back and reads her note: today was the first time I considered you might be dead. and I can’t forgive you for getting yourself killed. I really hope you’re not. come home. 

he suits up. 

he didn’t see MJ at school that day. and he finds he can’t wait until tomorrow. 

he slips into her window and yanks his mask off of his face. he tries to ignore the smell of the smoke from his unwashed suit. it still smells like war. 

but then, he sees her sleeping in the moonlight. MJ, he thinks, he yearns. he’s not how long he’s felt this strong. maybe it was the first time he had heard her play the flute, or that first day he felt his chest tighten, or maybe it had been something innocuous. like a day she wrote him something ridiculous and silly in her notes. he can’t be sure how it started. only that now, in this moment, she was here and he was alive. and that was enough. 

he gets on his knees beside her bed and touches her face, “MJ?” she stretches and mumbles. he smiles, and tries again, “MJ?” he grabs her hand and kisses the back of her hand, “MJ.” 

her eyes flutter open and, damn, how had he spent a month without her eyes? she looks at him like he’s a figment, a ghost. and maybe he is. that’s how he’s felt since he’s come back. until, really, he heard all of the music she had picked for him. it breathed some life into him. 

she sits up, possessed, and asks, “are you here?”

he kisses her hand again, nodding, “got back to school today. you weren’t there.” she stares at him, “couldn’t bring myself to go, 30 days. it was 30 days since you’d disappeared.” “yea,” he swallows, “i know. uh, Tony’s dead.” and he hates how his voice cracks. 

her face softens and she pulls him into the span of his arms. he finds a home there for a long while. until he feels the way that music had made him feel: alive. MJ was like music, he thinks. sometimes sharp and furious and brilliant but always beautiful and full of feeling. 

“i got your scores,” he says. MJ shakes her head, “i don’t want to talk about those fucking scores, Peter.” he flinches, “i’m not ready to talk abut Thanos.” 

she shakes her head, “I don’t want to talk at all.” she kisses him like its the best and worst idea. she can’t quite decide. his heart thuds like timpani, loud and significant. 

their first kiss is not sweet or tender, it is a lot like that last piece. a mix of all things. not one emotion. the breath of human emotion. he can taste in the span of a second all of her anger at him and all of her affection. 

its intoxicating. 

his hand hits the drone on his chest and his suit falls away. it pools on the floor and he joins her on the bed, his body covering hers like a blanket. “you idiot,” she bites his mouth and he hisses, “you don’t get to leave without saying goodbye.” “i was saving the world,” he grabs a handful of her breast over her clothes. she arches up into him, “the world can wait.” 

he tears off her night shirt because he wants access to her milky soft skin. she sleeps without her bra, he’s happy to report. and he can’t help but be the most curious teenage boy about it. his mouth lavishes the nipples and they pebble under his teeth. 

he has done this once before, at band camp, but getting a girl’s top off is the farthest he had ever managed. band camp is a lot of kinky fuckery. but he’d only gone one year. 

so beyond the belt, he’s a little lost. but he’s eager. and angry. he’s so angry. war took something from him. his therapist would later tell him it was his innocence. now it just feels like a raw and angry wound. 

he bites at MJ’s breast and she groans, hooking her leg around his waist. “we should talk about this,” he heaves, his roaming hands cupping at her ass. “or,” she counters, her tone harsh and put-out, “you could shut up and fuck me.” 

a feral, raw groan rips from him, “yea, or that.” 

left only in their underwear, Peter could feel the warmth of her core radiating against his boxers. lacking experience, he begins to rut against her. and if its meant to feel better without clothes between them he’s 100% sure he’s gonna die. like, straight up.

his wide hand cups the back of her head and his thumb tilts her head back so he can ravish her neck. kisses and bites accompany each roll of his hips. her breathing is so heavy and hot against the top of his head. “peter,” she keens and he sucks on a pulse point. something he learned at band camp. 

“i thought about you,” he shares, his voice thick was sex and emotion, “every day I was away. and when I thought I was gonna die…” his fingers slip between her panties and rub at her core. she sobs in pleasure. “….you were there in my thoughts. I might’ve help save the world, but you saved me.” a searching finger presses inside of her and she says his name. he echoes her name back.

she turns her face to hide in her pillow, the sensations building up in her and his finger moves in and out of her. “stop being romantic,” she chides, “i don’t want romantic.” and he knows what she really means is i wanna know you’re here, i’ve missed you, don’t leave. 

so he guides another finger inside of her and sucks at her chest. as he leaves little bruises on her skin, he tells her things. how beautiful she is. how wet she is for him. how he wants to taste her. how she’d like it. 

and she climaxes around his fingers. he feels the flutter of it around his hand and he almost tumbles after her, but he refrains. he makes certain to watch her face as she falls apart and when she catches her breath, he smothers her mouth with a kiss. and only pulls away to suck his fingers clean. his eyes blazing. 

she tugs on his hair and kisses him filthy as she shimmies out of her panties. she tries to edge him out of his boxers but he stops. he doesn’t even recognize his voice. its rough and low. “condom?” she nods, leans over to her bedside table and grabs the foil for him. 

he rips it open with his teeth, shucks his boxers off and slips the condom on. he props each of his hands on either side of her head. and gives her a significant look. she nods and he pushes into her slowly. she’s tight but wet enough from his earlier actions that he is able to bottom out in her without much effort of his part. her mouth falls open and he can tell its a bit of a stretch for her. “you okay?” he asks. she nods, “fine. just…different. more pressure than I’d have thought.” 

his strokes are hollow and small at first. warming her up. getting used to the feel of her warmth stretched around him. but it feels like murder to him. the little death, the french call it, and now he knows why.

and he tries to remain under control to be kind and sweet but one thrust is particularly hard and she arches off the bed and digs her nails into his back. so he tries it again, for science. and the same thing happens. 

he chuckles, low, “holy shit, you’re…” he thrusts and she moans “….into this.” MJ glares up at him with a lot of fury to which he responds with a pointed thrust and her eyes roll back in her head. “yea,” he affirms for himself, “you absolutely do.” his rhythm moves from experimental to paced and hard. “tell me I’m wrong,” he grabs her thigh. she can’t. she can barely speak. just little, soft noises. 

in an inspired moment, he pulls out and she whines. which is adorable, okay? he grabs the thigh he was holding and adjusts her one leg so its resting on his shoulder. spread open wider for him. so when he pushes back in, he goes deeper.

they both breathe together. and there is no time for idle chatter now. they are both chasing a finish line. they want to cross it. together.

this new position is rubbing against her deliciously and she falls over first. he follows moments after. their whole world’s white out. 

when he comes to, peter rolls off of her and MJ groans. the leg that was propped up she slowly lowers to the bed and she begins to hiss at the stretch. “fuck, Peter,” she rolls her eyes. he ducks his head in embarrassment, “sorry.” she thumps him on the arm, “it was good. just…a girl needs to stretch if you’re gonna do that.” “did I hurt you?” he worries. she shakes her head, “no…it was good. really good.” 

the moment after feels vulnerable and soft. he turns her over in his arms and she snuggles into him. which fuck. he could get used to. they lay in silence, basking. and then, peter heavy with sleep begins to tell her everything. Thanos, the war, Tony. all of it. 

they talk until the sun peaks into her bedroom to start the day. and its everything.

they eventually part, they both need to get ready for school, and as peter puts on his costume to exit through the window he has an inspired thought. he ducks his head back in the window, lifts his mask and kisses her. she looks shocked. this stuff is easier in darkness. but he wants more than just moments hidden in the night. he wants her in the light, too. 

without another word he leaves. to let her stew.

when they get to school, both looking exhausted for reasons, MJ rolls her eyes at him put slips her hand into his. 

and then, seventh period rolls around and Peter walks into the band room with his horn case strapped to his back. MJ is carving a reed and stares at him when he enters the room. he grins at her, even winks because he’s feeling bold, and shuffles his way past the winds to the brass.

their conductor smiles at him and welcomes him back to band. no one seems more shook than MJ. she is staring mouth open at him, like WTF PARKER. 

he takes his horn out and not much has changed except that he’s insanely rusty and any range he had is pretty much lost, but the band sucks. so its fine. its more that its fun. and he does have a ball. especially when he hears the oboe solo soar over all of the terrible teen playing. he smiles around his mouthpiece and misses his entrance. but, god, MJ.

after class, she catches up with him in the hall and slips her hand into his. “you gotta practice,” she informs him, “you suck bad.” he laughs and tugs her under his arm which is a bit challenging because she’s a touch taller, “wanna practice with me?” “no way,” she shakes her head, “you’ll distract me.” he grins and she continues, “besides, i only practice with people who don’t slide all over the place, Parker.” “hey, woah, its been a few months, be nice.” “nope,” she shrugs and kisses him quick before heading off to English. 

and band proves to be so much more fun when your girlfriend is at band camp with you. but that’s another story for another time. 

[born-to-eat-pork-cutlet-bowls]

Hey bitch, okay my request is I want angst and high school au. I don't know what idea exactly, but I want you to make it sad. Sad to the point I cry for days. Thanks love you boo!😘💕

Alright your wish is my command lol. Thank you for the first au request.

Snip! I make eye contact with the boy who I had fallen for this past week. Snip! Tears fall down my face as I think about the pain I caused him. I'm such a monster. I am a selfish bastard. Snip! The black haired boy rushes towards me, yelling possibly but I ignore him. All that fills my mind are images of my past mistakes. Snip! I've seen those chocolate eyes fill with tears so many times and each time I find myself thinking how beautiful he is when he cries. He's beautiful when he smiles, when he talks, when he eats, when he blushes, he is just beautiful in general. Curves and all. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.Riiiing! The first bell of the day rings loudly, indicating that us students needed to get to our first class of the day. I push my long silver hair up into a ponytail, subtly winking at the passing cheerleaders. I hear them giggle and exclaim "Good luck on the big homecoming game next week, Viktor!" I smile and thank them before grabbing my gym bag and headed off to my gym class. Today we were going to climb the rope and get graded on how far up we could get. Easy A+ I thought. "Hey Idiot!" My good friend, Yuri Plistesky, greeted me. He was a year younger than I was but he had such a worse temper than anyone here. I guess that's what makes him good at defense during our games. "Ready for next week? I swear those Panthers won't stop talking shit! But we'll show them. Especially with you as our quarterback." Yuri smirks. I laugh as I brush a long stand of hair away from my face. "That's if you care about the game more than your stupid hair." Yuri said obviously annoyed. Coach Feltsman yelled for us to go change and line up to start our workout. I walked into the locker room only to see a bunch of the other boys in the class picking on a boy. The whimpering boy was obviously of asian descent and was more on the chubbier side than most kids. "C'mon Fatso. Say something!" One of the boys yelled. "Hey! Enough!" Everyone looked at me in shock. The boy stared at me with his blue rimmed glasses sliding towards the edge of his nose. "Coach is going to get angry if we take too long so go change. NOW!" And with that the crowd left. The asian boy sniffed quietly and ran to the restroom wiping away his tears. I felt bad but what could I do? Later I saw him struggle to even get up slightly on the rope and saw the coach give him a D. I also found out that the asian boy's name was Yuuri Katsuki. At lunch, I saw raven-haired Yuuri sitting by himself, eating what looked to be some cup of noodles and getting lost in a novel. I'll admit, he was gorgeous and I couldn't look away. I didn't realize that I was staring for too long until I heard my name being called. "What?" "Were you staring at that nerd?" I scoff trying to hide that I was caught red handed. "No." "I just got the best idea!" Chris, our linebacker, exclaimed loudly. "You should ask him to the dance as a prank!" My eyes widened as I turned to look at the lonely boy in the corner. That would definitely break his heart. I guess they saw me looking unsure so Yuri added, "Or we'll kick his ass at the dance." I looked around to see if they were joking but all I saw were a bunch of serious faces. And so I reluctantly went along with it. I asked Yuuri out in the courtyard after school and after being denied sweetly, I finally convinced him to say yes. His cute chubby cheeks became red making me smile and he rushed off to his family car, telling his parents everything that had happened with sparkling eyes of excitement. God, what had I done? Throughout the week, I got to know Yuuri some more lying to my friends saying that it would make it more believable. Each moment was as great as the last. We would talk about school and our lives. I found out that he had a poodle like me named Vicchan and he had an older sister. He also told me that his family struggled to get by financially which is why he tried his best in academics to recieve several scholarships to afford his college tuition. They were even saving up for Yuuri's tux for the dance. I also found out how bad his anxiety would get and I was able to help him through a bad one during the week. We hugged tightly as he regained slow, steady breathes and I swear I heard him whisper to me, "Stay close to me. I've never had a real friend before." I choked back a cry and gave him a kiss on his forehead to calm him down. He smiled at me and all I could think of how gorgeous he was. The day before the game, I opened my locker to see that Yuuri left me a charm bracelet as a good luck charm for the big game. I cried a little since no one had ever gotten me anything so considerate and also because I didn't deserve it especially not after what I was going to do to him. Luckily he couldnt show up at the game due to not having a ride but it made me more anxious since our next encounter would most likely be our last. Finally, it was the day of the dance. I was standing with a group of my so called friends trying to hide from Yuuri. I didn't want to face him today. I didnt want to break his heart. I played with my braided hair nervously when I saw him with a lit up face walking towards me. Oh no. "Hey Viktor! I've got your corsage right here! You like blue flowers right? I thought it would look great on you and compliment your blue eyes!" He rambled adorably with a huge grin on his face. I looked at my 'friends' knowing what I had to do. I turned to him with a cold look before I asked, "What are you doing here, Katsuki?" I saw confusion wash over him before he replied, "What do you mean? You asked me to come as your date." He looked down as the crowd behind me started laughing. It was like an out of body experience as I heard myself say with disdain, "With you? Can't you see that was a joke? Why would someone like me be seen with someone like you?" Then it seemed like time stopped. Yuuri made a fist in anger as he looked down at the ground trying to contain his cries. He hid behind his bangs and his shoulders began to shake as he started to sob. Suddenly he looked at me with anger and screamed, "FUCK YOU! YOU MADE ME BELIEVE THAT SOMEONE IN THIS SCHOOL ACTUALLY LIKED ME! LIKE SOMEONE ACTUALLY CARED! I SHOULD'VE KNOWN THAT YOU WEREN'T THE SWEET GUY I THOUGHT YOU WERE! ALL YOU GIVE A SHIT ABOUT IS YOUR POPULARITY AND YOUR STUPID LONG HAIR! YOU SELFISH BASTARD! I HATE YOU!" And with that he ran off crying. I couldn't move. Everybody there was quiet. I heard a few murmurs of me being an asshole. I couldn't blame them. I decided to leave soon after even though my name was being called for homecoming king. I didn't care about that. All I wanted right now was Yuuri. I wanted to hold him in my arms and beg for forgiveness even though I didn't deserve it. I sat at home staring at the ceiling trying to contemplate on how I could make it up to him on Monday. I heard a whimper come from beside me and saw my Makkachin climbing on top of me, licking away my tears. "Good boy. Oh Makkachin, what am I going to do?" I saw him turn towards my dresser and I followed his gaze. On top of my dresser was a pair of scissors I used for a school project. That gave me an idea. "Makka, you're a genius! Hopefully this'll work." On Monday, I saw Yuuri in his gym clothes during 1st period looking very glum. His gaze was always on the ground and he did his best to avoid me. I was in the locker room when I finally called for him. "Leave me alone Viktor!" "Please Yuuri, just listen to me." "Why?! So you could destroy me again?! No thank you." A crowd was gathering around us but I didn't care. "Yuuri, I know what I did and said was completely unforgivable but let me show you how sorry I am. Hopefully you can see how much I really love you after this." He looked at me confused. "What?" I pull the scissors out of my bag making everyone furrow their eyebrows in confusion. I grab a strand of my hair and cut an inch of it off. I open my eyes and see everyone in shock. I tearfully look at Yuuri as I cut another strand. "I know I'm a selfish asshole for hurting you Yuuri. But you don't know how hard I fell for you. It only took a week and I couldn't get you out of my mind. If there was any way I could get out of that stupid bet I would've. But they were going to hurt you! I'm so sorry Yuuri!" I sob and cut a huge chunk of my hair. "Stop." Yuuri tells me. I keep cutting the long strands of hair. "Viktor! Stop!" Yuuri yells while getting the scissors out of my hand. I cry and throw myself into him. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't hate me. I love you. " I repeat. I hug him tightly as I sob on his shoulder. "Viktor..." "No, don't leave me please!" "Viktor!" I look up to him and see him lift his hand to cup my cheek gently. He looks down at my hand and sees his charm bracelet around my arm. He smiles before he looks up at me and leans in to kiss me. I deepen the kiss afraid to let him go. We finally pull away and I see his hand go up to stroke my new short hair. He laughs before saying, "You look good with short hair." I laugh as I hug him once more. "Stay close to me, Yuuri." I beg,snuggling into the crook of his neck. I felt a kiss on my cheek as I heard him whisper to me, "Always"