#i tried to bring up that my city is having drag bingo tonight at like 7pm but my mom woulsnt let me go bc it was in a neighborhood thats

[flyingcookiegumtruckthing]

Random but like should I re-download snapshot.

I kinda removed it from my phone but didn't delete my account lol. So like 2 years ago when I got news of a3! English shutting down, I deleted snapchat to make more room on my phone for the game files. I tried to go through the character and event stories on twitch to like. "Preserve" the English version of the game. It was not very organized and I barely got anything done lol.

Then! Dragalia was shutting down, so i tried to kinda do the same thing. Dragalia was like 14 or 16 GB. So I kept snapchat deleted lol.

So I finally got the stupid corpse of the game off my phone and on an external hard drive, plus my save file from that game file extractor program someone put on github. I removed random photos from my phone and put them on an external hard drive. I finally have free space on my phone.

So should I re-download snapchat to see what my irl friends who I have not been in communication with for the past 3 or 4 years since covid lockdown lol. (My snapchat is for irl friends/college and high school classmates only.) (But also not having pressure to post stuff there for the past 3 years has been nice. But also I've not seen my friends for a very long time lol)

[sunsetinmyvein]

The Radio Station - Chapter One - Think About How to Think

"I’m still not quite used to these proper radio interviews.” He said as he reshuffled the headset over his clean shaven mohawk. “It all… feels so professional.” She laughed in response to that, “Well, it’s nice to know I’m doing my job right, then!”

Eyyyy, I’m back! A sort of different story compared to what I've done in the past. Small snippets in time, across quite a bit of time, focused around radio interviews. Almost all of Matty's interview answers are verbatim transcribed from various interviews, but it's what happens around those answers that's the important stuff.

Taglist: @dot-writes​ @imagine-that-100​ @robinrunsfiction​ @tooshhhy​ and feel free to give me a shout if you wanna be added :D

6th of December, 2012

Adjusting the microphone in front of her, she watched while the last few seconds of the song played out. “You ready?” She asked the man sitting in front of her. He looked up from picking at the sleeve of his jacket, nodding apprehensively as she switched the microphones back on. “That was Sex by The 1975 - and as promised, we have here Matthew Healy of The 1975 with us in the studio this morning.” She spoke, turning on the radio presenter voice.

He leaned towards the mic slightly before speaking, “Hi.”

“How are you doing?”

“Yeah, erm… good?” He said with a small laugh, sounding unsure of himself. “A bit nervous.” He admitted as an afterthought.

“About your show tonight at Barfly?” She asked, remembering her conversation earlier in the day. Her managed warned her not to drag the interview out too much as they had a gig later that evening to prepare for.

“Uh, yeah, that, and I’m still not quite used to these proper radio interviews.” He said as he reshuffled the headset over his clean shaven mohawk. “It all… feels so professional.” He shrugged, looking around the studio for the millionth time. When he’d come in, the process of actually having to check in through a receptionist and wait before he was ushered through was fairly intimidating.

She laughed in response to that, “Well, it’s nice to know I’m doing my job right, then!”

 She figured it would be best to just get the ball rolling to try and give him something better to talk about than his nerves, “So, you guys have two EPs out now. How many more are there on the cards before an album?” She questioned, glancing down at the sheet of question prompts in front of her.

He appeared instantly more comfortable as soon as the topic switched to something that he had better familiarity with, straightening up in his seat and looking more engaged, “There’s probably another couple to come out before we bring out the full album.”

“It seems that the band is getting some good traction with what you already have out.” She pointed out with a nod. Over the last few weeks at the station she’d had a chance to hear the EPs in passing, and she thought that they were pretty decent. But the station itself had been receiving a fair number of requests for them and pretty good feedback whenever they were on the air.

“Yeah! We’re really humbled that we’ve been given the opportunity to live this past year, and we’re only getting closer as a band.”

  “Is there a strategy with how you’re releasing things?” She asked. “Is this all part of some grand plan,” She saw him smile at that, “or a secret to getting your name out there?”

He thought about that for a second, “Kind of a bit of both? When we wrote the first EP, shortly after we’d written the majority of the album, we kind of… I dunno, we just wanted people to…” He paused, taking a short breath as he recomposed his thoughts. “If we were gonna do it, it’s such a personal endeavour, this band. If people are embracing the music, we wanna do it properly. We want people to fall in love with a band the same way you fall in love with a person – the more you know about somebody over a longer period of time, the more you both invest in the relationship.” She was taken aback somewhat by his statement. For a band just starting their career, that was a pretty profound thought process. “That was kind of…” He continued, clearly debating over his words slightly. “We had ideas for a lot of material. We wanted records that went against the grain of most EPs nowadays that are just a single. We wanted to release these little records that kind of almost culminated in a debut record.”

  “That all sounds pretty well figured out.” She noted, still rather surprised at the extent of his answer. It was intriguing watching him stumble over his choice of words to try and get across exactly what he meant. “Does that mean that the tracks from the EPs are going to be on the full album?”

“There’s a lead track off each EP on the album, yeah.” He nodded eagerly as he leaned forward in his seat. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding that our material works chronologically. We wrote the album pretty much before we wrote the EPs. We took singles off the album and wrote EPs around that to take a bit of the story and embellish it a bit. Create a feel for what the album is gonna be like.” He explained, his hand motions getting more enthusiastic the more he spoke.

She made a soft noise of understanding at his answer. Thinking back to the vibe of the two EPs she had listed to, what he was saying made sense. “From what we’ve heard from you so far, it seems The 1975 has a knack for creating upbeat music with fairly deep lyrics in comparison. Is there a reasoning behind that? Is the album going to be similar?” She asked as she flipped her notepad over.

  He let out a sigh as he stared up at the ceiling of the studio, “I dunno… we’re just a band… for ourselves? We just wrote music for ourselves and have since we started when we were kids.” He started, leaning back into his seat. “Because we grew up in punk and pop punk playing around, we were kind of a bands band? Our music just became very, very personal and very, very kind of…” He made a vague gesture with his hands, “I suppose, it’s our only expression? It’s the only thing we’ve ever known how to do. It’s the only form of honest expression we’ve got. A lot of the time it’s quite self-deprecating for me – lyrically. I kind of find solace in it. But I suppose now it’s been romanticised a little bit.”

She wasn’t entirely sure if that answered her question, but pressed on. “Certainly songs like Sex seem to have a lot of girls romanticising you.” She threw in with a laugh. He cracked a grin at her remark.

“I think that is a reflection of our music – coming across as sexy. Not just because of, y’know, all this.” He shot back with a wink as he held a hand proudly on his chest. Any awkwardness he had been carrying at the start of the interview seemed to have dissipated now.

  “All right, we are gonna play another 1975 song and then we’ll be right back. This one came off of the first EP. This is The City.” She announced, happy to segue away from having to discuss whether she thought Matthew Healy was or wasn’t sexy on live radio. As the track started, she lowered her headphones to sit around her neck, the man across the desk from her following her lead. “You’re killing it.” She reassured him.

“Yeah?” He smiled.

“Yeah.” She chuckled, his enthusiasm now that he was on a roll was contagious. “You obviously know what you’re about.”

“Well, I’ve been fuckin’ thinking about it all for long enough.” He laughed loudly. “We spent ages working out what to do before stuff finally started happening for us.” He added for clarification.

“You’ve been the same group since you were kids?” She asked out of genuine curiosity. He looked like he was in his early twenties now, which would mean that they’d already been a band for quite some time. It seemed odd if that was the case, that they’d only had these two releases.

“Yeah, the four of us since we were fourteen or something. Just messin’ about trying to work out what sounds good.” He confirmed.

“Fourteen? That’s pretty young to start a band.” She said in astonishment.

“Yeah, well… I’d just moved to Manchester; I grew up in the very north of the country…” He started, looking like he was about to launch into another story. Part of her wished she had saved this line of questioning for the interview, but another part of her was secretly mildly honoured he was only giving this information to her. “But I went to high school and there was this kind of thing that was going on where the council were letting old people’s kind of bingo halls be used by kids to start bands. And after a couple of weeks it became this scene and everyone started making punk bands.” He explained.

  “So, you got dragged into it by your mates?” She asked.

“Well, in the end our whole social group oriented around that scene.” He shrugged. “We started there at fourteen just because of how fun it was. The fact that we realised we could be genuinely creative but also really indulgent? It was the most fun we could have.” He had a fond smile playing on his lips as he spoke.

“Plenty of time to experiment and work out what you want to be as a band.” She nodded in understanding.

“Exactly.”

“And clearly it’s starting to pay off.”

“You reckon?” He had a genuine look of disbelief.

“I’ve liked what I’ve heard,” She admitted, “and we’ve had nothing but good things coming in about the EPs.”

He scoffed as he ran a hand through his hair, “That’s a lie and you know it. I’m not oblivious to the critics.” He rolled his eyes, but was still smiling. “Thanks, though.”

  They had some more casual chit chat between them until the song came to an end and she switched the audio back over. “And we are back!” She said into the microphone, pulling her headset back on. “Still here in the studio with Matthew Healy, the lead singer of The 1975. Now, I believe that you guys had a few name changes before you finally settled on this one?” She asked as she crossed that prompt off of her list. In an effort to be prepared, she’d tried her best to find out as much about the band online as she could to form some half decent questions. She hated feeling like her interviews were just the same as everything else out there.

“Yeah, we did, but that was when we were just a live band, really. We didn’t really wanna put any music out officially until we were really ready. There were also issues with the old names that we had picked. One of ‘em there was another band called that already, Big Sleep, in America, so we couldn’t call it that. Another we didn’t really like, The Slow Down…” He said with a shrug. “People like to idealise quite a lot of things… in the end, it kind of became our thing? Changing our name. We didn’t really think people cared about our band, anyway.” He laughed softly.

“They certainly do now.” She smiled across at him, earning what appeared to be a delighted look in response. “So, is there any importance to what you finally settled on?”

  “The date doesn’t have any, no.” He said as he shook his head. “It’s this story, that’s been quite over dramatized, to be honest. When I was like… nineteen? I was on holiday with my family. There was an artist who lived in the village who was kind of a local drinker who befriended everybody. I spent a couple of days with him at his house, and he gave me loads of literature to leave with, like Kerouac and beat poetry, you know. Basically one of the books I ended up readin’ six months later, and it had kind of been treated as a diary by the previous owner. And it was dated ‘first of June the 1975’. The use of ‘the’ I felt was quite interesting.” He answered.  “It just stuck with me as a kind of… why? What made them write the 1975? I don’t know, but I think it really works with the fact that we were discovering a lot about ourselves, and we weren’t really sure who we were.” He gazed off into the middle distance for a second, looking like he was zoning out. “George felt it was a bit long at first, because you know, seven syllable band name. But once a band name becomes a band name it’s just there. It’s like that Pavlovian reaction. But I think when we went in for a meeting with our publisher, we’ve always liked to pitch things left of centre, we said ‘we’re gonna call the band The 1975‘ and they said ‘absolutely no way, it’s too long and there’s never been a big band that’s just been numbers.’ And then we looked at each other like ‘that’s the name.’ so I went and got it tattooed on my arm that day.” He laughed loudly. “Sent them a photo of that-” He held out his arm to emphasise the numbers inked there, “-like ‘that’s the name of the band now!’ As soon as they said there’s never been a big band that’s just numbers, we just thought… excellent.”

“The impulsivity worked in your favour, then.” She noted with her eyebrows raised in surprise. To go out and get something like that tattooed as an act of defiance to your creative project was impressive. “Good thing you’ve not had to change it again since.” He just chuckled.

  “It seems to fit in quite well, though, the name. What with the whole black and white aesthetic that you guys have created.” She continued, eager to hear what he had to say on this image that they had surrounded themselves with. Everything she had been able to find out about their ‘look’, how they presented themselves, it all seemed highly thought out and planned. But thinking back to what he had mentioned before, if they’d been a band since they were fourteen, it probably had been.

“If you’re quite altruistic in personality, that’s normally twinned with a certain amount of self-awareness. Because you’re exposed to many situations where you’re putting yourself out there a lot.” He started as he fiddled with the cord of his headset. “I think if you’re an artist and you’re like that, you find solace in maybe… detaching yourself from reality a bit? Because you’re not as exposed as normal. We find a lot of comfort in everything being in black and white, because… Yeah, that’s it, you’re not fully exposed.” He explained as if he was mostly talking to himself, or trying to sort out his answer as he said it. “But it really works for our band because it makes it… a bit out of reach?”

“How do you mean?” She frowned.

He hummed thoughtfully to himself before speaking, “There’s a great quote by Kafka, which is that ‘a camel is a horse designed by a committee’…” He said with a pointed look. “Which is like… one person’s vision is always going to be a lot more concise than something that’s been diluted or compromised by a committee. If you want to project a certain image it needs to be an individual’s own vision in order to be really palatable and really concise and really consumable. So, it’s all about creating something that isn’t that accessible, because we live in an industry where accessibility is paramount.” She was starting to realise that this man truly had very roundabout ways of answering questions. However, it was fascinating listening to his unfiltered thought process as he tried to work out what he wanted to say. She couldn’t say she’d had a lot of interviews with people are interesting as Matthew seemed to be.

  Taking a quick look at the time, she could see that they had to wrap this up shortly. Between the long-winded questions and the songs, her twenty minutes had gone by quite fast. She’d better start winding this down. “What’s next on the agenda for you guys?” She asked, looking back over to him.

“Uh, let me think…” He racked his brain for what their immediate plans were for the near future. “We’re heading out on tour after Christmas, and then pretty much we don’t stop ‘til sometime next year.” He confirmed.

“Sometime?”

“We’re in high demand, what can I say?” He said with a laugh.

“That’s not surprising, I’m sure it’ll only get harder to get a hold of you guys in the future.” She concurred. “Well, it’s been a pleasure chatting with you, Matthew. All the best for the tour and for the next EP.” She nodded. He looked caught off guard for a second. Glancing down at his phone, he was surprised to see how much time had gone by. “Thanks for coming in.”

“No, no. The pleasure’s all mine, truly.” He grinned. “Thank you for having me on.”

“I’m sure we’ll be hearing again from you soon.” She finished up, switching his microphone off as she did her outro spiel. He took his headset off, stretching his arms up above his head before standing up and heading towards the studio doorway. It took her a second of seeing him linger in her peripheral vision to realise that he was waiting to say goodbye. As she started the next track, she slipped her headset off and spun her chair to face him.

“Erm, thanks.” He said as he scratched at the back of his neck. “I’ll see you around?” He asked hesitantly. It was curious to see him go from charismatic interviewee to nervous guy in her studio so fast.  

“As I said, I’m sure we’ll be hearing from you soon. You’ll be back here in no time.” She assured him. He nodded to himself, looking pleased as he headed back outside.

  It was another twenty minutes after Matthew stepped out before her shift ended. Thankfully, she was able to get out of the office pretty quickly. Sometimes she ended up being held back for up to a couple of hours if there were meetings and such that required her attention. And today wasn’t a day that she wanted to deal with any of that. It had been a pretty shitty Thursday to start with. She’d had terrible traffic on the way in, couldn’t find a parking space, had to trudge her way to work in the cold, dropped her coffee when someone ran into her on the way – she just wanted to end a long day. It was approaching evening as she stepped out into the brisk winter air, letting out a sigh as she looked around the street. She started making her way to her car only to catch sight of a familiar mohawked man standing at the side of the station building, smoking with a few other guys. As soon as he spotted her, he shouted her name and waved her over. She debated whether she should go over and talk to a group of more or less strangers or not, but he seemed pretty keen on her joining them. He turned briefly back to the guys he was standing with and as she approached she heard the tail end of him explaining what had happened in the interview.

“This is the band!” He said excitedly.

“Oh!” Instantly, that made a lot more sense than him larking about with a bunch of random people. She took in the other three men he was standing with, noting that they were all quite a bit taller than he was. “You guys could’ve come in to the interview, you know.” She said as she wrapped her arms around herself to try and block out some of the cold threatening to seep in through her jacket.

“Nah, it’s fine.” One of them with somewhat of a beard shrugged.

“We’d rather let him do the talking.” Another quietly agreed.

“He’s loud enough for all of us.” The last one, that also had a kind of mohawk thing going on, spoke up.

“Hey! Fuck off!” Matthew shoved the last one with a loud laugh.

She stood around with them for a bit while they smoked, listening to Matthew talk about the interview and answering the odd question that the band members had for her. This man seemed far more sure of himself than the uncertain one she kept seeing in the interview. He prattled on excitedly about tour and the next EP and just generally seemed more confident. The band only spurred him on as well, encouraging him and getting into in-depth conversations about the tiniest details. She could see where those long-winded answers had come from in their interview. If he held this level of passive confidence and enthusiasm in a casual environment, it was only a matter of time before that started shining through in his career. And it was truly no surprise after speaking with them that this band was getting popular at the rate that they were. They were obviously talented, and had enough drive and direction to push themselves through whatever challenges they faced. She could tell that The 1975 were only just beginning their music industry journey. It was after about fifteen minutes that she figured she had better excuse herself and actually go home – she didn’t really have any reason to hang around here, even if it was nice to chat with such an interesting group of people.

  She waited for a lull in the conversation (which wasn’t very forthcoming) before finally making her move, “I might get going…”

Matthew’s face fell a little before he recomposed himself. “Why don’t you come down to the pub with us for a bite?” He suggested.

“Ah, thanks for the offer but I’ve got places I need to be, and I don’t usually mix business with pleasure as they say.” She chuckled lightly. “Nice to keep things separate.”

“It’s also nice to make exceptions sometimes.” He shot back; a challenging eyebrow raised. “But it’s cool.” He said with a shrug as he dropped his cigarette onto the ground, snuffing it out with his shoe. “For real, though, thank you for all the kind words about the band and the music in the interview. A station with as many listeners as yours… your words mean a lot.” He nodded, looking pensive about whatever was going on in his head.

“It’s really no problem. I meant everything I said.” She smiled back at him. Before she could get on her way, he pulled her into a tight hug. She hadn’t overly expected that from the man she’d known all of about an hour, but she hugged him back regardless, happy for the brief warmth after standing in the icy street. “I’ll, uh,” She cleared her throat, attributing the heat she could feel in her cheeks to being in the cold for so long, “I’ll see you at the next interview.” She said as she finally headed towards her car, leaving Matthew staring after her before heading back to his band mates.

Next Chapter

[lordseochangbin]

Beverly Hills- Han Jisung (Part One)

a/n: i didnt realize how much i loved writing fics until a couple weeks ago so we back at it again with our biaswrecker sksksksk

this fic is going to be drama-filled? not sure how to describe it but i’m getting a lot of inspiration from high school dramas so we’ll see LOL

Sweaty palms and sunburns cannot emphasize how bummed Jisung was about this weather. Living under a cave for three years and completely skipping high school did him good but now he's back in the city, knocking on the front door to his cousin's home with a glued smile on his face.

"Jisung!" Jeongin exclaimed, running down the stairs of their mansion home to swing open the door.

"Jeongin!!" Jisung could only laugh at the sights of his younger bro, pulling him into his arms.

"I missed you dude" he whispered into the younger boy's ear before his luggage could be pulled away from his arms.

"Let me help you out with that," Seungmin said, taking a whiff of Jisung's figure before scrunching his nose in disgust. "You need a shower before our mom comes home, she would not like to see you like this"

Jisung looks down at his dirty vans and rusty jeans, "What's wrong with this?" he asked the two boys before the two look at each other.

"We'll get you a new wardrobe, just please go take a shower"

"Alright, alright" Jisung complies, following the boys upstairs he stares at the lines of academic awards and medals."So how did you two punks graduate high school early?"

Seungmin and Jeongin eye each other before turning around to show him their diploma. "Just with our wits" Seungmin winked

"Well your wits got me to come back to school, your mom literally dragged me here" Jisung groaned, flopping onto the bed that used to be his.

"She really wants you to graduate Jisung, can't you do just that? Especially after your parents.." Jeongin's voice turned into a whisper as Jisung eyed him across the room.

"Let's not bring them up Jeongin, I swear if Auntie brings them up I'm going to ignore her"

"Sorry I just-"

"It's fine Jeongin" Jisung interrupted before stuffing his face into the familiar pillow.

Let's get things straight. 

Here at Beverly there's a few different families. We have the Bang Family, consisting of son and daughter Chan and Claire. Their family owns almost all the clubs in LA. Next we have the Lee's, Felix and Minho are nothing alike however, Felix being the school's outcast and Minho being a popular dancer.  Yang and Kim's are united- the bond between the two families inseparable.

Oh, did I not mention Beverly Hills' most popular rich boy? That would be Hwang Hyunjin. The Hwang's along with the Seo's claim all the hotel businesses of Southern Cali, and their families are often known for being involved in rough politics.

Last, but definitely not least, we have the Stay family. You're the only daughter, sister having passed away at a young age. Because of this, you carry the legacy of your own last name. Oof, the pressures of an asian family. But nothing stops you from a good party, especially the big "Back to school" pool party that Chan and Claire are throwing tonight.

"Is this cute?" Claire asks, taking a pretty white swimsuit from the hangers to your attention. 

You take a glimpse at it before looking away, "Too white, you'll look like that statue of David when the museum is closed"

Claire rolls her eyes, throwing the suit in the cart. "I don't have a dick y/n, and Michelangelo definitely is not cute enough to mold my curves"

"As if you have any" You retort with a chuckle before being slapped in the back by Claire's Louie Vuitton. "Shut up!!"

You could only laugh as she walks away, shaking her ass in the air as you go for the simple yellow swimsuit. Checking the price tag, you see three digits and decide to put it back before taking it in your hands again.

"Mom and dad will kill me... it's okay" You tell yourself before heading off to the cashier's.

Jisung mutters a quick "Leave me alone" before throwing the comforter over himself again. Finally, the comforter is stripped away from his bed as Jeongin screams in shock.

"Jisung!! You sleep naked?! Disgusting!!" Jeongin exclaims, throwing the blanket back on him.

Seungmin pats Jeongin's shoulder in embarrassment before waking Jisung up. "Get up, The Bang's are having a party tonight and we've been invited. It'll be the perfect chance to get new friends"

Jisung rolls his eyes at Seungmin's proposal, "Friends aren't shit Seungmin, they're just your friend during high school and when it's over they forget your name."

"Oh come on Jisung!! You can't be lonely forever!" Jeongin pouts, ticking Jisung's sleepy figure before Seungmin could add, "Well Jeongin and I are going, so I guess you're going to be alone with my mom"

Jisung is quick to jump out of bed and puts on the nearest pair of shorts before wrapping his arms around the two boys shoulders, "Okay so where exactly is this party?!"

The booming music makes the whole neighborhood shake and sounds of chit-chat and the small of alcohol fill the air. Girls fill the pool with floaties of all kinds and drinks at every table.

"W-wait. You guys meant a real party?! I thought you geeks only went to chess comps and bingo clubs" Jisung said, "T-there's real people here. Ew."

Seungmin drags Jisung inside the crowded living room, "You clearly aren't ready for Beverly Hills High School Jisung, and that's why you need to be here”

"I'll get us some drinks, go find some open space for us Jisung" Jeongin says, running off with Seungmin.

Jisung winces at the people surrounding him, turning to the hallway before being greeted by a stumbling girl in a white swimsuit.

"Oh, oh hi! You must be new here, I'm C-claire" Claire grabs Jisung's shoulders, a burp leaving her lips before she collapses onto him.

"Woah- woah okay, okay Claire take it easy" Jisung says, grabbing her waist as he looks for the nearest bedroom. Walking further down the hall, Jisung hears a few voices and hopes to drop the drunken figure into the hands of some other people.

"Look Hyunjin! I've told you so many times, we just don't work out together" You exclaim, trying to push Hyunjin off you as he continues to suck on your neck. You fail to get his weight off him as he cages you against the bed, his plump lips making all sorts of blues and purples on your skin as you try to kick him off.

"Come on y/n..." Hyunjin whispers into the crook of your neck, "We can make this work you know?" Your calls for help are muted by the loud music playing outside but you know with enough resent you can get him to stop.

"Hyunjin, stop! It's over" You continue, trying to wiggle your way out of his grasp. Well aware of how much he chugged before, you tried to work with his intoxicated self but it didn't seem to be working.

Jisung presses his ear against the door, realizing the situation as he kicks open the door. "Hey!"

Hyunjin quickly turns around, getting off the bed. "Um, hello?" Hyunjin replies sarcastically.

Jisung is left without words the second he lays eyes on you, you're beautiful. Light beaming on your figure from a nearby window, the sunlight is casted upon you. He can’t even blink, the sight is too worthy to lose even for a second. Left breathless in the middle of the bed, you thank the lords above that some cute guy came to save the day before noticing your best friend in his hands.

"Holy shit!" You run up to Jisung and grab your best friend.

"Is she okay?" Hyunjin says, picking her up and laying her on the bed. You sniff her hair before nodding your head.

"She's drunk. I'm so sorry about that.." You turn around to see the boy in a simple white tee, shorts and a Ralph Lauren bucket hat before asking, "what's your name?"

Jisung's eyes are fixated on the floor before realizing you were talking to him. "Oh- me? Jisung" he smiles.You smile at the way his cheeks puff up when his teeth show, face resembling a cute squirrel as you shake his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Jisung" you say with a smile.

"So someone told me my sister was being dragged to the guest room?" Chan said, Minho and Changbin by his side as he glanced at his sibling.

"She drank a little too much," Hyunjin responded before Chan could send Hyunjin a nervous look. "Bro, the plan didn't work?" Chan mouthed to Hyunjin as he glanced at you, noticing your hand still tied to Jisung's.

"Dude, why are you still shaking her hand?" Changbin asked, turning everyone's attention to you and Jisung. You stare at Jisung for a moment, noticing the bit of nervousness in his eyes. Jisung's grasp on your hand tightens anxiously before you could smile at the guys, "That's because Jisung here, is my new... boyfriend!"

Minho nearly spat out his drink, "Your what?!"

"My new boyfriend" you repeated, "Now don't mind me, but I'm going to leave now.. with my new BOYFRIEND" you spat at Hyunjin's face before leaving.

"Bro, what the fuck just happened?" Chan asked Hyunjin, handing him his drink

"I-I think y/n is really calling it quits" Hyunjin stutters, lying against the wall as the guys join him.

"Don't worry Hyunjin, y/n is always like this.. I’m sure this “Jisung” kid will leave if we teach him a lesson" Minho said, patting his shoulder.

You're running to the backyard with Jisung before he could stop you, panting out of breath. Sitting down at a nearby bench, you gesture at Jisung to sit next to you before letting go of his hand.

"I'm really sorry about dragging you into that, I just needed to get out of there" You apologize

"That's alright... but just like, did you call me your..?"

"Boyfriend." Jisung's eyes pop off at the validation.

"Seriously?" Jisung points a finger at himself in shock, "Me??"

"Yes you idiot" You reply with a chuckle, pushing his hand away. 

"I know you're new, maybe we can be friends" Smiling at Jisung's shocked expression you notice a figure resting on the edge of the garden.

"Felix!!" You call out, noticed the freckled boy turn around at your voice.

"Y/N!!" He replies, running over to you guys.

"Jisung, this is Felix. I think he'd be the perfect friend for you here." Jisung looks at Felix before looking back at you again, "Are you not staying?"

You stand up before spotting Chan and Minho asking people for your whereabouts. 

"Not for now, I need to fix a mess I started, it was nice meeting you though!" You exclaim, running inside to the two guys.

"Don't mind her, y/n is always involved in some sort of drama" Felix says

"Seriously? Why would nice girls like her get involved in that kind of stuff?" Jisung asks, scratching his neck in curiousness. "Whew, Jisung" Felix says, knowing he has a lot to learn.

"Welcome to Beverly Hills High School."

[blancheludis]

A/N: @iron-man-bingo, square: post!Endgame Peter & Tony

Fandom: Marvel, MCU, Avengers Characters: Peter Parker & Tony Stark Tags: Iron Family, Grief, Emotional H/C, Iron Dad, Spiderson, Peter Needs A Hug, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Lives Words: 2.151

Summary: After the war with Thanos is over, Peter goes to talk to Tony Stark's headstone, trying to make sense of the guilt he feels. He doesn't exactly think he'll find answers there, but he has to try. Luckily, he's not alone.

---

It is quiet in the cemetery. Peter is the only person there when he sits down on the cold ground in front of the veritable sea of flowers in front of Tony Stark’s headstone. It has been months since the reverse of the snap and still people are coming to leave flowers and their thanks. Peter has waited until dark before he went in. He is not comfortable with other people witnessing his grief.

Underneath his clothes, he is wearing the Spider-Man suit since he has come directly after patrol, but he is here as Peter Parker.

“Hey, Mr. Stark,” Peter greets and falls silent again.

He comes here too often, several people have told him that. May is worrying about him, of course, but his friends too, Ned and MJ who have lost five years too but appear to be dealing much better than him. Sometimes, he feels lost among them.

Peter does not have much to say tonight. The city is quiet, too quiet almost. The first outbreak of chaos after the miraculous return of all the Vanished has died down, and few people seem up to causing trouble again already. That should make it easier, transitioning back into life and a world that moved on without him.

It does not. Spider-Man has been Peter’s way to cope with everything fate has thrown at him. Swinging through calm streets has quickly lost its charm – although Peter feels guilty for even thinking that.

“Morgan asked me again to take her flying,” he says quietly, with a smile. “We should have known that Pepper would not be enough to teach your daughter common sense.”

Morgan is a gift. He has never exactly wanted siblings, but now he is glad to have her. Although it still feels strange to hear her call him big brother. It poses a constant struggle to do right by her.

“One of these days, she is not going to accept my deflections anymore.”

Taking a deep breath, Peter wonders how to continue. It usually helps, coming here, but he cannot explain the hollow feeling constantly spreading in his chest even to himself. He should be glad to be alive, and yet it always feels like something is missing.

“I still don’t sleep,” Peter admits but shrugs right away.

It is a stupid concern, because he does not need much sleep. And while he does not exactly have nightmares of wherever they went after the Snap, he is left with that feeling he cannot shake.

“I –”

“You should stop speaking to headstones,” a voice behind him speaks up, causing Peter to whirl around although he would recognize it anywhere.

“It’s your headstone,” Peter mutters as he takes in Tony Stark, standing before him with a hat that does not disguise him at all. At least he left the sunglasses off. Over the past months, they have learned how not to draw attention.

Tony should not be here. He rarely leaves the lake house, but sometimes he is reckless enough to wander right through the heart of New York. Pepper thinks he has not understood the magnitude of his increased celebrity status. People might have always known his face, even before he became Iron Man. Now, however, their entire universe has declared him its hero. Tony still expects it to die down soon, to watch the shrines disappear and the artists to move on to other motifs.

Surviving openly might have been less of a hassle after all, but Peter does not think that Tony regrets the decision of staying dead to the public. He did die. They just did everything in their power to bring him back – and succeeded.

“That makes it worse, kid,” Tony argues in a soft tone. “Don’t talk to headstones of people who are still alive.”

Few people know, mostly family. Tony was very adamant about leaving the Avengers out of it. He wants to spend the rest of his life watching his daughter grow up, not to be dragged back into the next war that is surely coming for them. Earth has enough heroes to defend her these days. And if he is needed anyway, he can still make a miraculous reappearance.

“It’s easier sometimes,” Peter answers without thinking. He winces when he sees the shadows on Tony’s face deepen.

“I’m here.”

The thing is, Peter is glad that Tony is still alive, but it is sometimes hard to navigate both worlds, to grieve the man he has come to see as a father figure only to go visit him on the weekends and see that he is fine.

Even while their relationship has grown much deeper since they killed Thanos, it has also become less simple. Being mentored by Mr. Stark and occasionally fighting crime with him had felt like the best thing that ever happened to Peter. There had still been a distance between them that neither of them tried to overcome. That distance is gone now.

The dinner table at the lake house always has a place prepared for him, he has his own bedroom there, Morgan calls him brother. Peter is getting another shot at a family that he is not sure he deserves.

Turning back to the headstone, Peter says, “You were dead, though. Several times.”

Peter was, too, for five long years. They do not talk about this, though, because Tony always gets very quiet at the mere mention of the Snap.

Footsteps sound and then Tony sits down next to him, reaching out to pluck some of the flowers out of the bouquets.

“It seems like I have to talk to Helen about doctor-patient-confidentiality,” he sounds amused, and if Peter had not seen how utterly happy Tony had been when he embraced his daughter after he first woke up, he might get angry about the nonchalance in Tony’s voice when he talks about his own death.

“She kinda just yelled it at us so we would stop bothering her with question,” Peter explains, not looking up at Tony.

He remembers the long days in the private hospital, where they used all the strange forces available to them to save Tony’s life. Sometimes, it feels like the exhaustion of that time has still not faded entirely. Then again, Peter had stumbled from one life-or-death battle into the next, not knowing that five years had passed.

“Don’t look like I was going to chop her head off for this,” Tony chides, humour in his tone. Growing more serious, he adds, “You don’t have to be ready to save everyone at all times.”

And yet that is what Tony has always done. Even presumed dead, he still spends a lot of time creating things to shape the future because he is not yet done with the world. Peter does not say any of that, however.

Instead, he shrugs, feeling more miserable by the minute. “Because I have such a good track record with that.”

The atmosphere shifts immediately, grows tense. Peter feels Tony’s sharp gaze on him. “What was that, kid? Peter?” Tony demands. The immediate concern in his tone just makes Peter feel worse. “Look at me.”

It takes Peter a minute, but he finally forces his head to turn and to meet Tony’s eyes. Then, Tony says the worst thing he could have.

“It is not your fault.”

Peter knows that. From an objective point of view, he realizes that he had nothing to do with Thanos coming for them or them not being strong enough. He definitely did not choose to die in the Snap. Afterwards, though, his ghost lingered and made Tony sacrifice himself. Peter was not the only reason but a major one. He has been piecing the clues together for these past months.  

“I couldn’t help you when it mattered,” Peter says, aiming for a casual tone and failing.

He is not quite sure whether he means on Titan, when they almost managed to pull the glove off Thanos’ hand, or later on Earth when he could not get the gauntlet off the battlefield, when he had to watch Tony wield the Stones and die because of it.

“But you did,” Tony says without a single trace of doubt. “You were here. You looked after my wife and daughter. You helped them even though you had just been through two very large battles and had your own family to go home to after spending five years in between lives.” Tony makes a short pause, swallows as he traces the inscription on his headstone. “You did more than I could ever thank you for.”

Biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, Peter just barely keeps from wincing. He does not need Tony’s gratitude. He just wants the thoughts in his head and the feelings in his chest to make sense. He wants to go back to living without imagining how much worse things could have been.

“There would’ve been no need for that if you –” Peter trails off miserably.

“What?” Tony asks sharply. “If I had not gone to fight Thanos? If I had not taken our one chance at reversing the Snap at bringing everyone back? At bringing you back?”

There it is. It is not anger turning Tony’s voice sharp but grief. Those last bits of it that will likely linger forever inside them. Grief for Peter.

“Listen, Peter,” Tony continues urgently and reaches out to put a hand on Peter’s arm as to convince them that they are both real, both here, together. “Doing nothing was never an option at all. If I had to do it again, without a chance of another miraculous survival, I would do it without hesitation.”

That is the worst thing, Peter thinks. He knows Tony would do that. At the same time, he fears he would not be strong enough to save Tony. Again.

“What about your family?” Peter asks quietly.

What he means is more complicated than that. They have signed up to protect others, but Peter knows both sides of this now. He knows about leaving and being left. He wonders whether there is a line they will not cross, a safe place they can keep for himself – even knowing he is selfish.

“You are family,” Tony answers without hesitation.

It is not the answer Peter was looking for, but it has warmth spreading through his chest nevertheless.

“I’m sorry, anyway,” he says quietly.

With a laugh, Tony takes his hand off Peter’s arm and goes back to taking apart flowers. It is the surest sign he is nervous too. “I’d be surprised if you had seen reason after just one conversation.”

To Peter, it has not been the first one. Normally, Tony’s headstone does not answer, though. He is not yet sure whether he does not prefer that. It is stupid to wallow in his guilt, but he cannot just let go of it either.

When Peter merely shrugs, Tony adds, “I know this will take time, but we’ve got that now. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. For dragging you into this mess. For not taking enough care. For letting you be taken.”

Upset, Peter glares at Tony. “None of that was your fault.”

He notices the trap he has fallen into far too late, but keeps his expression determined.

“Hypocrisy is not a virtue, kid,” Tony says, his voice lighter again. “We’ll keep working on that.”

Time, Peter thinks, is a strange thing, just like hope. Without warning, they can lose or win it, just toys in fate’s perpetual storm.

Humming noncommittally, Peter fights the urge to reach for some flowers of his own.

“Now, how about dinner?” Tony offers, a question ringing beneath the words that is about more than food. “I could need some help tinkering with the arm. It’s lagging.”

Peter doubts that very much. Nothing Tony builds does not work the way he intends it to. The prosthesis he built to replace the arm the Stones took from him, is a masterpiece. Much more sophisticated than Barnes’. Peter loves it, even though it is a constant reminder of what happened.

There is always room for improvement, but Tony would not walk around with an arm that defies its purpose. As far as distractions go, Peter is glad for that one, though. Working in the lab together is the one thing that has not changed. They have always been more familiar in the workshop than anywhere else.

With a last glance at the headstone, Peter gets to his feet. Slowly, he is coming to realize that he is not going to get the answers he needs here. Questions about life are better off answered by the living.

He offers a hand to Tony and says, “I’m ready.”

With a smile, Tony lets himself be pulled up, then puts his arm around Peter’s shoulder as they walk towards the car.

“Then let’s go home.”