#but fuck man its so hard. why is everything so hard

[jaembun]

the way you look should be a sin.

if mark’s at your door, the only thing you’re going to do is let him in ！⠀⸻⠀mark lee x gnr ⠀ fluff (?) pre rs ⠀ wc 1.4k ⠀ now playing . . ☆

생각⠀my girlfriend! my! girlfriend! thnku isa for inspiring me to write this he’s kind of the only thing important ever

you hadn’t really been properly asleep anyway, having drifted off in a half-slumber after scrolling mindlessly on your phone for a while, and you supposed that was why the sudden sound of it ringing from its place still loosely clasped in your hand woke you up so easily. everything was still vaguely blurry when you pushed yourself onto your elbows, squinting hard in order to see the name of the contact flashing across your screen. mark met your eyes, and you flopped backwards onto your mattress before tapping the accept button and then pressing the same hand to your mouth to stifle a yawn.

“are you awake?”

you pulled the phone back from your ear to aim a slightly incredulous look at it, even if you knew your best friend would’ve been none the wiser to the expression.

“i mean, i am now. what is it, markles? did you forget something?”

mark stumbled over his next words, muttering them under his breath more than anything. “no, but.. ah, nevermind, dude, it’s fine. i don’t know why i called.”

you sat up slightly in your bed, ignoring the slight chill the blanket falling away from yourself gave you, eyebrows furrowed a little in concern at the unsure tone of your friend. “mark? what’s up?”

he started to say something more but cut himself off, words trailing off into nothing. it was silent on the phone for a few moments then, only the sound of your shared faint breathing coming through the lines until he finally got his words together and spoke up properly.

“i’m, um. i’m outside your apartment.”

that woke you up fully, eyes widening a little as you stood up out of your bed, leaving it unmade as you padded over to your window and looked down more than a few floors to the street outside—where, if you squinted, you could almost make out mark’s figure lit up by the streetlights and standing alone on the pavement, recognisable mostly by his familiar fleece jacket.

“what the fuck, mark? i’ll buzz you in, come on. you must be freezing, i don’t—why are you over here so late? did donghyuck sexile you, or something?”

you stayed at the window just long enough to watch his small head shake before moving over to your door in order to let him up, shivering again with the now complete lack of your blanket.

“nah, he’s at jeno’s. i just.. i don’t know. i missed you, man.”

the words made you stop in your tracks, for a second. his voice was small, but it sounded sincere—and it was sincere, you knew it was, because mark couldn’t have told a lie even if he was paid to do it. had been earnest since before he knew what it meant. you covered how choked up you suddenly felt by scoffing, depsite it sounding weak even to your own ears.

“yah, you sweet talker, you probably just want me to make you a hot chocolate. get up here already, hm?”

his laugh was barely that, sounded more like an exhale of air than anything, but you were glad for it all the same. quiet fell over the two of you again, but this time it was more comfortable, with only the idle sounds of the elevator and his footfalls coming all the way to your door. 

“see you in a sec,” was all you murmured through the line before hanging up and shoving your phone into the pocket of your sweats, fiddling with the lock on the door for a moment, another, before it was finally open and mark was standing before you. 

he looked tired—you weren’t surprised, seeing the last time you checked it was creeping past two in the morning—but his mouth still curved up into a small smile that you mirrored with ease, beckoning him in and pushing the door shut behind him, reaching out with the tips of your fingers to slide the lock into place.

“so what’s up, markl—“

before the nickname could fully pass your lips mark was falling into you, head finding solace tucked into the crook of your neck hands coming up to loosely grip onto the fabric of your shirt on your waist. his fingertips were red from the cold, but his cheek was hot from where it was resting on your shoulder. 

“can we.. go t’bed?”

it was just as mumbled as it’d been over the phone, but this time a lot louder—he was right next to your ear, after all, the periodic soft exhales hitting your skin causing little shivers running across it that weren’t from the chill, this time. you simply nodded in answer to his request and attempted to detach yourself from his grip to walk him over to your unmade (but comfortable, you defended to yourself) mess of a bed, but mark made a vaguely whiny noise of protest and clung onto you tighter.

your laugh came out a little too high in the dead silence of your apartment, hoping even if mark did notice the way your ears burned a little hotter that he’d be kind enough (or tired enough, at least) not to bring it up as you slowly walked him to the sheets, trying not to trip up on his feet shuffling backwards, trying not to focus on the way he felt so malleable in your careful hold.

“take this off,” you murmured lowly once you’d reached the foot of your bed, tugging gently at the fleece he was still wearing and trying not to cringe at how suggestive your words sounded even if your intentions were innocent. you focused on nudging at his feet, too, where his shoes were still on. “and these. you’re not putting your dirty trainers anywhere near my blanket, markles, for real.”

“mm.” was all he hummed in reply, but didn’t move from his spot. you were ready to do it for him if it came down to it, but before you could reach for the zipper of his jacket he taking half a step back, barely out of your space, and doing it himself. they were left lying idle on your floor once he’d rid himself of both the offending items, but you figured they’d be just fine for a night—it wasn’t like you didn’t have a few hoodies and jeans doing exactly the same thing while you avoided putting them away properly for a day or two longer.

where you stopped in your place once he had deemed himself ready go, unsure of what move to make next, mark had no such qualms. he let himself fall back onto your sheets and got himself comfortable like they were his own, the way his brow furrowed when he didn’t see you following a clear indication of what he wanted you to do, and you found yourself being able to do nothing but comply with his wishes, slipping in next to him after abandoning your phone on the bedside table.

the lights were faint, streetlights only just shining in through your window, but you could still see his brown eyes trained on your own as you led there face-to-face. you tried to speak but, embarrassingly enough, your throat failed you, and so you only tried again after turning to the side for a moment to clear it. 

“are you okay?”

the smile was back. still small, still sincere. “i am now.” and. oh. mark was so—lovely, sometimes. all the time. you didn’t know what to do. but it seemed you didn’t need to, because then he was turning over, away from you, and then shifting backwards until it was all too clear right where he wanted you.

and so, swallowing back the way you felt choked up for the second that evening, you shuffled closer and slung an arm over his hip, feeling him relax under your touch almost instantly. it was more than just your blankets providing you with warmth, now. mark had always run a little hotter.

“night, markles.“ you mumbled half-into the nape of his neck, lips almost brushing his skin. there was a light sound as he tossed a hand back to find where yours was resting on his side and squeezed once. twice.

“see you t’morrow, ynnie.”

and that was all it needed to be. a boy in your arms, both in your bed. sharing warmth until the sunlight pouring in through your windows would force you to leave it. as simple as that.

[historia-vitae-magistras]

A lightee ask than usual but do you have any food or eating habit thoughts?

Ooohooohh, I did a whole ass seminar on the history of food. Failed it because I almost bled to death but I got to keep all the material! I've got.... a lot of thoughts and feelings about food culture. Too goddamn many, tbh. This got really long so I'll have to do a part two for other characters if wanted but lol enjoy.

Alfred:

 —Actually pretty gourmet little shit when he's got time and effort. He's made food Maria loves so often she has to give up on pretending she didn't enjoy it because fucking hell, he makes good chilaquiles after they've been drinking and fucking. There is, however, a non-zero chance he hasn't eaten a vegetable since the Nixon administration.

 —With that combustion engine metabolism, he's also perpetually hungry, so he eats whatever is around him. His guts do not like this, especially when it's a lot of dairy.

 —He has that kind of lactose intolerance that's tied to his health and stress, so if he's been particularly freaked out lately, he'll remind the world of his nuclear arsenal when he's got to use the toilet after that triple cheeseburger with a side of deep-fried cheese curds.

 —He's a stress eater too. He eats every negative emotion he's ever had especially when he's trying not to binge drink or do drugs.

 —He’s exceptionally food-motivated. They didn’t call one of his first major historical eras ‘the starving time’ without reason. He has preferences, but food is also food, and he’ll genuinely enjoy it in most forms as long as it's not rotten or otherwise godawful. Cowboy coffee and beans for ten days straight, and he will genuinely be the only man on that cow trail not sick of it by the end.

 —This also goes into why he’s so generous with food. He’s big on homemade food. He’ll make a whole big ass batch of like some sort of mac and cheese, and all the neighbours will get a big ol’ bowl of it with an ‘oh just return the Tupperware whenever,’ and it will genuinely be one of the best things they’ve ever eaten in their lives. Europeans recoil in horror, but our portion sizes are almost never single servings. It’s a generosity and hospitality practice except drinks. He really will down like a 2 liter of Slurpee in a single sitting.

 —He doesn’t mind eating alone. Actually prefers it sometimes. He loves eating in his car. American frontier culture, especially mountain men, had an often hyper-individualized, almost mythic culture of spending long periods alone in the woods and not being very sociable; thus a lot of situations where single servings were a thing, eating alone in quiet without something to do can be a real goddamn luxury.

 —He’s a really big protein guy with his metabolism. Sometimes exists on protein shakes but is more often a beef or barbeque or ham or alligator jerky. And a somewhat chunky Alfred is a healthy Alfred. A perfectly cut no flab Alfred is an Alfred who might be severely dehydrated and on several kinds of uppers.

 —He has better tastes than Arthur who didn't really realize food was supposed to taste good until like ten years ago but his combinations can be equally wild and unappetizing as they are batshit tasty.

—He loves spicy food. He's got so many opinions about hot sauces.

—He’s always hungry. If he isn’t hungry or turns down food, its genuinely a bad sign. If he turns down anything or just is just picking at it his food alarm bells should be sounding. He’s either about to declare war or puke all over the table or keel over dead. Peckish or food coma is his default state. Like if he was a smaller guy someone would say he’s got a binge disorder but he’s tall and beefy so he’s pretty okay.

 —Incredibly adventurous eater too. People will assume since there’s that old school culture of Anglo-American who eats the same 7 meals every week and might keel over dead if the meatloaf is slightly different he’ll be a bit hard to please but then he’s absolutely charmed by everything from Korean kimchi to Lithuanian Lašiniai.

 —He loves anyone who feeds him, just got to be a bit careful because he’s got surprisingly delicate stomach for the world superpower.

 —That American obsession with authencity means he’s surprisingly good at remembering people’s food culture or eating norms. He figured out chopsticks in ten seconds and quickly picked up the cues and manners of eating in any given culture. Still struggles with modulating his voice and personality, so he can often come across as rude, but he's so excited to do so. It's almost frustrating how happy he is to try and adapt to people around him and how happy he can be to fit in.

Matt:

 —He's a very good cook when he's putting in effort for other people, but he's not really like Alfred, who he'll make a whole ass meal for one just to relax on a Sunday.

 —He does tend to eat more vegetables than Alfred, but only because his northern vitamin deficiency has him binging them when he can afford them or they're available during the summer.

  —He can be weirdly picky on his own, but no one ever really needs to ask about his favourite food or how he likes anything because he always just goes with the flow around other people. “Just get me whatever you’re getting.” comes out of his mouth often.

 —There's a lot of sour cream/crema and yoghurt/coconut milk involved when he eats Mexican or Indian food for as much as he loves it.

 —Katya was singlehandedly responsible for his ability to maintain a normal weight during the 20th century by adding rye bread and perogies/vyrenki to his diet. He craves mushroom-umami flavours when he misses her, which is most of the time.

 —When he’s normal and eating the Anglo-North American diet, but he isn’t always eating it, he gets some strong sugar cravings, especially when he’s west of Manitoba. He’s as fond of birch syrup as a flavour as he is maple; there’s just less production. But the kind of deprivation he got and his own tendencies to not eat sometimes cause white sugar to just straight-up burns.

 —There's very much something of François to Matt's dietary habits, but less in his personal tastes and more in that he might be more sensitive to flavours. He has that kind of discerning and slightly oversensitive palate, but he’s a shitty perpetually broke frontier settler colony. He knows better/feels too guilty/is too embarrassed of himself to really indulge it.

 —He kept too much of his peasant communalism in his eating habits. Where Anglo-American communities did have a lot of cooperation, communal eating was a special occasion. The norm was based on the individual household. In contrast, French Canadian habitants still technically lived on medieval land plots and owed labour to a lord while also having a culture of seasonal male work, so Matt grew up used to communal ovens and eating most of his meals around others. Later, in Arthur’s jurisdiction, it was usually the same. He got a plate of whatever he was given, and it wasn’t something he had ever had to initiate himself.

 —Partially, he's sometimes exceptionally bad at eating when he has to choose to do it himself. Especially since the Americanization of the food culture took hold in the '80s and '90s. Whereas Alfred is food motivated from going without when he was little, Matt learned how to block out physical sensation until he collapsed because it was rare that someone, including himself, cared about what kind of state he was in. He just doesn’t eat at all when he’s stressed or anxious. And now it's his sole responsibility to do so as there aren’t the same community structures. He has a lot of Alfred’s abundance now, all the brunch and BBQ places anyone could ask for, but it hasn’t meshed with his eating habits. His people gave up so much of their communal eating in exchange for various choices and then wondered why they were so lonely. So he’ll just microwave a potato or a packet of Kraft dinner a day for a week straight and wonder why he feels dead because, technically, he did eat something. It’s seriously a miracle he got as tall as he did.

 —Feed him nothing but hardtack for three years, and he won't complain until he's dropped dead of scurvy. If Arthur puts some sort of godforsaken mixture of plum sauce or gin-infused spag bol in front of him, he’ll compliment it before he disassociates to get at least some of it down.

[s1renidae]

always fun hanging out with my much cooler and more interesting childhood friends and hearing about all the shit they're up to and then they ask me what's going on in my life and i have to be like uh. nothing tee hee :) still unemployed and not in school and practically hobbyless because of chronic fatigue and executive dysfunction :) still obtrusively mentally ill and for some reason cant stop talking about it even when i don't want to and i can tell youre sick of hearing about it :) and then it's awkward for a minute cuz neither of us know what to say mmmmm literally someone just shoot me already

[clits-and-clips]

Spiralling AGAIN would you believe it

[marsixm]

ocd rly sucks sometimes bc i swear my paranoia just shoots me in the foot with my personal life so bad

[weirdlizard26]

grbrggbfrgbbffbrg

[oflgtfol]

he was only nineteen???? he should've been at the clubbbb

[gingerbreadmonsters]

gahhhh. im sure it doesn't sound like it most of the time, but wow my degree is so cool and fun 🥰🥰

[fleshdyke]

ahsgsjaugejwjg

[npdlangley]

iii wish i could be good . its literally 7 and none of my homework has been completed lmfao

[dirt-str1der]

I dont care about majima x sagawa btw but i care a lot about their relationship regardless because i want them to have the most toxic dealings and skewed power dynamics with each other as possible and i them both to have increasingly warped perceptions of each other (worlds most incorrect uncle-nephew relationship)

[toastsnaffler]

tried going to bed early bc ive just been sitting staring at the wall or my phone all afternoon but it's been 3 hours now and I can't stop crying. :(

[the-acid-pear]

Man. Sans was so cool...

[larrythefloridaman]

google :)

love u goog <3

[timelord-of-the-moon]

...

[pussy-ache]

never been good with romance