#i don't want to spend money on clothes I don't even like.

[s0dium]

THAT'S A RED FLAG BABY

JJK MEN AND RED FLAGS

A/n: Yessirrrr MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Synopsis: Jujutsu men and their red flag in a relationship or generally and how it shows through when they fuck

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Yuuta Okkatsu, Sukuna Ryomen, Choso

Warnings: Emotional abuse, narcissism, controlling behavior, dub-con, semi-public sex, spitting, fingering, rough sex, male masturbation, degrading, praise, teasing

~

Gojo Satoru- Narcissist  

Since he was a kid, Gojo has been praised and called many things

The honored one, the strongest, gifted and so on

But what people don't see is behind those beautiful sapphire eyes, is a goddamn narcissist through and through

He thinks, no he knows that he is the best, best at everything

This includes what goes on in bed.

And its not only that, the white-haired fox only cares about himself too in the sheets, abusing his unnatural stamina and using you like a cock sleeve for his own taste

At least he can be nice about it sometimes

Gojo is relentless. Its almost like your his personal cock sleeve, his dick shaping your insides and abusing your cervix despite your choked sobs and whines for him to stop, to simply slow down. He holds the back of your head with his hand, allowing you to look down at the way you two are connected; how he retracts his hips until his tip barely pokes out, admiring the slick coating his shaft before slamming back into you again.

"Ahhh~ P-please Satoru please...."

Gojo rolls his eyes and scoffs. Why were the people that surrounded him always so weak? Even you. It's a good thing you feel like heaven he could almost forgive you.

Tears stream down your face. Every time the tip of his dick rams against your cervix a powerful feeling mixed with pain and pleasure that surges through your body making you tremble and shake. You're losing your mind. Everything is so good, and, God, you can't ignore how handsome Gojo looks right now. His white hair is sticking to his sweaty forehead, and the muscles of his toned abdomen are flexing and unflexing. He is gorgeous, and, boy, he knows it. Even the way your pussy squeezes and spasms around his dick sends more bolts of electric pleasure to dance through your skim.

"Shhhh, just take it 'kay? You're doing so good for me baby." Gojo coos.

Geto Suguru -Controlling

It starts off small, a comment here and there on your choice of friends, a small criticism on where you were going to spend the evening because wouldn't you have much more fun spending it with him?

Then he's starting to pick out outfits for you. Modest but pretty ones for outside but short skimpy clothes for when you're only with him. It even gets to the point where he is controlling your finances, making you only use his credit card, and its not about the money, you can use as much as you want for all he cares. It's about the control, you being helplessly reliant on him.

And Geto has such an easy time getting away with his controlling tendencies, showering you in praises and sweet nothings about how he just wants to protect you. And the way his violet eyes gleam at you, you almost always believe him.

Don't for a second think that he's insecure because it's far from it. The raven-haired man just wants to have you all to himself, he just wants to protect you from the cruel cruel world out there.

"Didn't I tell you to ask me first if you are going to wear an outfit like that?" Geto whispers in your ear but you can barely focus on his words. The curl of his fingers inside you is just too numbing; the way it hits, prods, and massages a spot deep inside your walls that you can only dream about reaching on your own. Geto's fingers are so thick too, almost filling you up as deliciously as his dick does. Almost. "Mmm- I- I, I didn't-" You gasp for air and try to bury your face into your hands. He currently has you against a wall of some bathroom stall but that fact seemed all but lost to you right now. The pleasure was building in your core and fast. Your legs were starting to shake and a numbing electric feeling had taken course throughout your body. You didn't have to open your eyes to know that Geto was smirking.

Suddenly, Goto curls his fingers in a way that deeply presses your g-spot and the dam of pleasure that had built inside you breaks. Your jaw goes slack and your whole body trembles with electricity.

"Didn't expect for you to crack so easily" he chuckles against your ear, and you collapse into his chest. Yuta Okkatsu- Too obsessed

You would think this is a good thing right? You could never love someone too much, but it was different with Yuuta

Sure you had a crush on him, sure you touched yourself to him plenty of times (which Yuuta knew of very well) so the feelings weren't all that unreciprocated

But theres a line, there's a line that Yuta always seems to cross

From taking pictures of you to texting you constantly, christ you even found your panties in his drawer, yuta love was overwhelming.

Yuuta knows that he should wake you up, but he cant bring himself too right now. You just look so beautiful, so perfect under the soft glow of the night sky. Also, he just feels so good right now, Yuuta can barely think so much as speak. "Mmmm-mmm" he whimpers against the pillow, slowly grinding his clothed erection against your bare leg. How would you react if you knew your boyfriend was humping you while you sleep? Would you push him away? No no you're too kind for that, you would probably help him, probably pet his hair and whisper sweet nothings until he finished. Yes, if he knew for a fact that you'd help him when you wake up, what's stopping you from helping you now? Careful not to wake you up, he picks up your hand. It's so small compared to his but wraps so well around his throbbing member. He glides your thumb across his red tip to collect the precum before slowly sliding your hand up and down. The pleasure is immediate. It makes him bury his face into your neck to to press sloppy, wet, hot, and bitten kisses along your skin.

Sukuna Ryomen- Sadist

Where to start with Sukuna. Sukuna is the red flag.

Actually, even that is a complete understatement. Sukuna is straight-up cruel, rather he is a sadist through and through.

Manipulation, degrading, humiliation....although he wouldn't physically abuse you, with emotional abuse he won't hesitate.

You expect compassion, sympathy, and kindness from him? Fat chance. It is hard to see Sukuna being in any relationship at all.

Sukuna certainly doesn't love you, but he sure does love the sex though

Like any good sadist, his sexual pleasure derives from your physical or emotional suffering.

"Aw look at you, fucked you dumb did I?" Sukuna chuckles. A tattooed hand snakes between to your cunt, lightly rubbing your clit before delivering a sharp slap to the nerve.

Your eyes widen and your hips instantly buck up, unintentionally sending his dick deeper into you. The position he has you in is brutal. Both of your legs are thrown over Sukuna's shoulders and pressed against your chest, effectively folding you in half. "Open ya mouth" He orders, but you are too lost in the pleasure that is blooming in your stomach, the pleasure that is making your cunt flutter and squeeze desperately around his fat cock. "I said open." Sukuna delivers a particularly harsh thrust before stilling inside you; keeping the tip of his dick smushed against your cervix. The sudden movement snaps you out of your haze and you obediently widen your mouth letting your tongue hang out. Sukuna lets a glob of spit fall from his lips onto your awaiting tongue. You don't need to be told to swallow, you do so on habit, giving him a soft smile as you do so.

"Fuck, ya so perfect, such a good girl."

Choso- Jealous 

Choso is the type of man who keeps to himself. The type of man to blend in a group or fade into the background.

But that doesn't mean he notices things. In fact, he notices things a bit too well.

Was that your coworker who touched your shoulder? You say that he is just a friend but who should a friend be able to touch you so easily?

He won't hesitate to bring up what he notices either, he says he's not accusing you of anything, that he trusts you, but he totally is.

He hates it when people get to close to his brothers so it posits that he loathes it when it comes to his lover.

How did you get here? How did an argument turn into this?

You want to scream, you want to thrash and tell Choso that he's got it all wrong, that you didn't mean to see your guy friend when you went out to have lunch. It was just a harmless bump-in that turned into a long conversation. Thats it. But the feeling of Choso's dick filling you up, his harsh thrusts and the fucking delicious friction of the drag, Jesus, it's just- it's just so good your mind that your mind is a white sheet.

You are on all fours but you don't know how much longer you can keep the position up. Not with the way he's ramming your pussy from behind.

“You are mine," he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal is brutal. "Mine," he swears, and he pulls you up so your back is pressed against him and you are upright. Choso doesn’t slow his movement though, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing up and down from the harshness of it all.

“You wanna cum? Good, cum."

[whousestypewriters]

i don't even know your name - jameson hawthorne x reader

pairing: jameson hawthorne x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, kissing + like running away from the police

a/n: hehe my first tig fic! and my first on this account. i had this little idea at exactly 12:26am in the middle of revamping this blog and wanted to write it i shouldve gone to bed, so sorry if this is crap - sleep deprivation is reallll. its also unedited-

ok so technically you did steal a car.

but come on, the seven police cars driving after you is just a little bit excessive. especially since its not even a decent car... from a junkyard - which to be honest you're still surprised it even started. no even cares about the damn thing except for you and the junkyard owner who apparently has a vendetta against you.

you've met the guy twice, he's a stinky old man who spends most of his days wasted and drunk. and he's never once paid attention to you sneaking in and out basically living in the car you've just stolen. sorry, borrowed.

the red and blue flashing lights bring you back to your current situation and you wince when you shift gears and swing almost violently around the corner into oncoming traffic. swerving around the honking cars and bright lights you manage to merge back into the right lanes and push forward trying to put distance between you and the cops.

you slip through the cars not even caring about the other people at this point. you just need this car. getting a job these days is harder then it seems and you'd just been offered a job with really good pay and the only requirement was you needed your own car to get to and from work.

so seeing as you're an eighteen year old homeless girl with little to no money, temporarily borrowing this car seemed like a really good idea - until it wasn't of course.

pulling over on the side of the road you decide to abandon the car and try to get away on foot - you can always catch the bus right? following the flow of the crowd you swirl your way through checking over your shoulder every few seconds, not even noticing the fact that you've gone up steps and entered a large line until the security guard calls out to you.

"hey kid! ticket?" swinging around you look up to the stern guard.

"pardon?"

"where's your ticket?"

"oh..." you trail off and the guard steps forward.

"miss, do you have a ticket?"

"....no?"

stepping forward the guard starts to reach for his gun. "miss i'm going to need to ask you to leave."

looking behind you, you try and work out your best escape route from the now approaching police men and the menacing guard at your back.

"uh yeah i'm leaving now," you say swinging around and slipping under the guard and bolting through the doors.

you enter probably the grandest entry room ever. its like straight out of a movie with the grand staircases and people in elegant clothing, unfortunately you don't get much time to admire everything with security and police on your ass.

pushing past the shrieking guests aside you run through the crowd to the next room, straight into the middle of... a dinner party.

great.

this is just great.

"GET HER!" the one of the policemen yells from behind you. you take off again rushing past women in fancy dresses and men in tuxes trying your very best not to step on any of their outfits - because hey, you may be homeless dressed like a middle aged man, but damnit you can appreciate a good outfit.

running into a hallway you panic slightly, choosing a random door and slamming it shut. trying to get ahold of your breath you close your eyes and rest your head against the door, taking deep breaths.

a throat clears from behind you and you practically jump out of your skin.

"hello."

"holy shit! doesn't anybody knock these days??" you shriek.

you look around the office trying to find the owner of the voice but to no avail. the office seemed plain enough a large plush chair behind a mahogany desk with sofas and book shelves adorning the sides of the wall.

"hello?" you look around the office again, bending down to check under the desk.

"look up," the voice comes again.

looking up you see the shadow of a boy sitting on the overhanging ledge of the bookshelf.

"who are you?" you ask eyeing the door and wondering if you still have enough time to get away before the police arrive.

"i think we should really be focusing more on you." the boy's voice vibrates through the room. he leans forward to the point of almost falling off the edge but somehow still staying on.

"i'm not important," you say, then motion up to him. "you'll fall."

"i can assure you i won't." for a moment the boy just lingers there before launching himself off the bookshelf and landing on the floor in front of you. "and besides you've piqued my interest." he strolls over to the desk and casually leans against it as if he wasn't a freaking godlike person.

seriously that bookshelf had to be at least three and a half meters tall!

the boy - now that you can see him better - is also godlike in his looks. its devastating how handsome he is. he's around your age with soft brown hair that seemed to be styled when the night began and had fallen across his forehead and his eyes. his eyes were like emeralds sparkling in the moonlight. suddenly you're favourite colour is green.

"now tell me again, who are you?" he grins - its an awful grin, the type that makes you want to die because its so beautiful.

swallowing the lump that formed in your throat you push the words out. "as i said, that's not important. what is important is that you forget you ever saw me."

the boy raises an eyebrow flashing another grin. "i'm afraid i can't do that."

"why?"

"because you are quiet unforgettable."

you freeze for a moment, then roll your eyes. "is that what you tell every girl who barges into a room to hide?"

"ahh so you're hiding?"

clenching your jaw at that slight bit of information you let slip, you nod.

"from?"

"who do you think jackass? i'm dressed like a 1950's street urchin and just crashed probably the most fancy dinner party i'll ever see, so really, who do you think i'm hiding from? fucking peppa pig?"

a loud bang comes from down the hall and you swing around wishing you had ran instead of talking to the mystery boy.

"come here." his voice snaps you out of your panic.

"what?"

"come here, you don't want to be caught? get over here."

narrowing your eyes at him you move closer to him. "what are you gonna do?"

he stares at you for a moment. "can i touch you?"

"WHAT?"

"not like that, god. that's where your mind went? no. i was just being respectful before i kissed you."

that you pause at. "you're going to kiss me?"

"well, with your permission of course."

"you don't have it."

the boy pouts playfully. "why not?"

"because believe it or not, crashing dinner parties and kissing random strangers who's names i don't know isn't something i do on a regular basis."

"well if you don't want to get caught...." he trails off.

"ew so what if i kiss you, you won't give me up? you think you're that good do you?"

"sweetheart, i am that good."

"not helping your case."

"if i kiss you it hides your face, none of them would ever try and cross me," the boy offers grinning again - does he ever stop smiling? seriously its harmful to look at someone this good looking for this amount of time.

"cause you're just that good right?"

"you're a quick learner."

the commotion from outside comes closer and you tense up weighing your options. goddamnit you're gonna have to kiss him.

"fine you have my permission," you huff. "just don't rat me out."

"i would never."

the police must have reached your door because they knock twice asking if someone is inside that they come out now.

"fucking hell," you mutter. "i cannot believe i'm doing this. i don't even know your name."

"don't worry you're in good hands," the boy says his voice low. he wraps his arms around your waist looking at you to make sure its okay.

"if you don't come out now we're coming in!" the voice from outside yells banging against the door twice more.

"by the way, the names jameson," the boy says before he seals his lips to yours and the door is ripped open with men pouring in.

but you hardly notice it. the boy's - jameson as he called himself - lips are warm as the press into yours. its soft but searing sending tingles through your brain. every thought or protest you had fell out of your head and your hands shoot up into his hair as he tightens is own arms around you.

you're so lost in the kiss you don't even hear the men behind you clearing their throats awkwardly.

pulling away jameson looks at you for a moment seemingly just as stunned as you are before he pulls your head to his chest and rests a hand on the back of your hair keeping your face hidden.

"yes?"

"have you seen a girl; brunette, around your age, wearing a black cocktail dress run through here or past here?" one of the officers asks avoiding eye contact.

"what did you say she was wearing again?" jameson asks.

"a black cocktail dress." these are like the worst policemen ever.

"well... yes-" you tense, this is it. this is where he rats you out, motherfuc-"but she went down the hall and through to the ballroom probably hiding in the crowd."

nodding each of the policemen leave the room and storm their way down the hallway. "uh sorry about interrupting you two as well," the last one says on his way out.

when its safe you pull back from jameson and thank him.

"its not over yet," he grins - seriously who decided he should be this handsome? and takes your hand leading you out the room and down the hallway. "follow me."

you slip out through the now empty entryway and run down the stairs together. this feels suspiciously like a romance novel. when you reach the steps you pull jameson to a stop. "wait don't you have to go to this dinner thing?"

"if it means not spending time with you, i'm okay with missing it," he winks.

"nope, you're not trying to flirt your way into being an outlaw with me," you tease.

"it was worth a shot."

smiling up at the boy who let you go free tonight you reach up on your tip toes and place a soft kiss on his cheek. "i'll be seeing ya jameson."

you slip out into the night leaving jameson on the steps. leaving behind the dangerous feeling that you could lose your heart to that boy.

at least you won't see him again.

[taglist] @nqds, @nuncscioquidsitamor-14, @lxvebelle [if you wanted to be added or removed lemme know!]

a/n pt2: i hope you liked it!!

[vickyvicarious]

I had to tear down wrappings and ransack a number of boxes and drawers, but at last I managed to turn out what I sought; the box label called them lambswool pants, and lambswool vests. Then socks, a thick comforter, and then I went to the clothing place and got trousers, a lounge jacket, an overcoat and a slouch hat—a clerical sort of hat with the brim turned down. I began to feel a human being again, and my next thought was food.

I know this is like, a fairly common expression, but still... there's something to be said for the way Griffin doesn't feel human again till he is dressed.

His initial feeling of being a seeing man in a world of the blind, during his his invisible flight from his rooms, lasted only a few minutes. And then first he was struggling in the crowd, before he fairly quickly became prey on the run. The rest of his experience before he took shelter in the mall is pretty nightmarish.

He spends such a good chunk of the book described only as a stranger, and in a way that clearly reflects the testimonies of those who resented and didn't respect him. But also, for all that he is paranoid about being seen (being unseen) by them, he doesn't want to be identified or to socialize at all, so he never gives them a name. Mr. Marvel, of course, never knows him by any name either - he's the first person who (doesn't) see him for what he is right from the start of their acquaintance, and to him Griffin is only ever "the Voice" or "the Invisible Man."

We don't learn his name at all until chapter 17, when he identifies himself to Kemp. And even then, even after a whole back-and-forth repeating his name, he's still called either "the Voice" or "the Invisible Man", once "the Unseen", throughout the rest of that chapter. In chapter 18, he's described by name just once, when his reply to a final question of what else Kemp can get him indicates a surprising vulnerability/desire for comfort: "“Only bid me good-night,” said Griffin." Again, in chapter 19, Griffin is back to initially being only "the Invisible Man" when he's having his fit of temper. He gets his name back when sits down to eat and when he and Kemp are conversing about science. But when he begins describing his money trouble and how he robbed his father, he becomes "the Invisible Man" again at the close of the chapter. In chapter 20, it's mostly Griffin's story, but there's a little switch at the start of the chapter. Kemp takes "the Invisible Man's arm" to bring him away from the window when he's worried he'll see police approaching, and then puts himself "between Griffin and the nearest window" - when he feels more sure he's managing the situation, Griffin gets his name back. Again, at the end of chapter 21, he's back to his title while we see Kemp glancing out the window nervously and clearly distracted... his thoughts more on the help he sent for than on the story being confided to him.

With Kemp, the only person who knows his name, there is a clear pattern to call him by some title when he is afraid of his violence. At least so far. His name is only ever used when he is being more 'civilized'. Not even just whenever he is being open and vulnerable, because he does that a surprising amount throughout his story, but as Kemp's mind wanders, Griffin goes back to being titled once more.

When he's naked and totally invisible, Griffin himself feels like something outside of humanity. And while briefly freeing, this soon became a horrible feeling, something othering and scary. It's why his first instinct is to get clothes, before he even thinks about food. It's why he tries so hard to escape in the clothes he's stolen, before he's finally forced to abandon them. Sure, there's the practical reasons of not wanting to get sick and cold, and so on, but that's not the main drive. Except then he has to give that up in order to get away safely. And even when he does acquire clothes and money and his research and gets away somewhere safer (where the story begins), it's never enough. He's always othered to various degrees, which in general just keep increasing over time. By the time he gets to Kemp, his first request is no longer for clothes - something which again could just be put down to practicalities (he hasn't eaten in much longer this time, he's more used to running about naked and the weather is better) but also showcases much more of a willingness to leave them behind at the first sign of danger, in order to free himself to fight or flee. More certainty that he will need to. And he's right about that - after all, wearing clothes may make Griffin feel more human, but it's not the determining factor for Kemp here.

[echoofawind]

Is there a secret for finding and buying clothes that actually make you feel good? Could someone let in on that secret please?

[andthebeanstalk]

the average person doesn't expect you to be a perfect ethical consumer, that's not possible for the vast majority of us. but what youre saying is it's better to do nothing at all and choose the worst possible options (sweat shops, overseas shipping waste, idea/product theft, all wrapped up in SHEIN) than to put even the tiniest effort in where you can.

[they are referring to this post]

What I said was "some people are doing literally everything they can to survive and have no extra bandwidth to spend extra time and money on their purchases, and it is cruel and therefore un-punk to gatekeep punkness and add additional shame to these people's lives based on that fact."

I think it's still a good thing to try to ethically consume; I literally never said it wasn't. I had never even heard of SHEIN before. Rather, I am much more concerned about what I saw as arbitrary gatekeeping based on ability and income.

And frankly how dare you claim that I am supporting sweatshops and abuse by saying that this additional work you are demanding (in this case, presumably, vetting every clothing company you buy from) is not always possible for people. It is not a light accusation to accuse me of supporting abuse.

"How dare you say we piss on the poor", Etc. 🙄 this isn't Twitter. You are determined to enforce moral purity, but you are failing to see the nuance.

Because when I say "no extra bandwidth," I mean no extra bandwidth. This is not the "car shows it's on E but actually secretly it has a lot of gas left" situation that abled people constantly assume disabled people mean when they say they are at their limit.

This is "the car has stopped moving, and to move it I'd have to break my body pushing it." This is "at a certain point, people will hit a wall in terms of money and time and energy, and any energy spent after that comes directly out of their life force."

So the argument "okay but just spend a little more time money and energy actually" is not a valid one.

And the argument "if you are not able to do this specific task, then it means you're not doing anything else to make the world a better place" doesn't exactly impress me either. You said yourself that it is impossible to be a perfectly ethical consumer for most people.

How do you know what else people are doing to resist oppression? How many hours per week until your standards are met?What if someone works 3 jobs? Does that mean it's harder to be a good person if you're poor?? Why do you get to decide what specific avenue of bettering the world is the most morally repugnant or acceptable? What kind of proof of goodness and effort would make you satisfied enough to lay off on the shame?? Who are you helping??

Clothing is a fundamental human need, and some of us have to buy cheap fucking clothes quickly. Billionaires are buying their seventh yacht this month. The people who own fast fashion companies are abusing their workers and putting local affordable clothing stores out of business - and this applies for basically every company with price points that low because governments are failing to regulate corporations to enforce basic human rights.

I have $300 to spend on a new wardrobe as my old clothes have fallen apart or become too small. Do you have a way for me to get a new winter coat, 3 flannels, 10 shirts, 3 dress shirts, new sandals, 10 pairs of pants, 5 bras, 12 pairs of socks, and 10 pairs of underwear within that budget and also definitely 100% ethically sourced, with free returns in case it doesn't fit? Or will I simply have to use the cheap stores?

I have about an hour to spend on this per week. Many mainstream stores doesn't make clothes in my size, and I am now in *year 5* of needing an electric wheelchair and being unable to get one; plus I live up a flight of stairs, so I can't even bring my walker out with me - so thrift shopping is not gonna cover this. Should I continue to wear small and tattered clothing until I have the time, money, and energy to meet your standards?

Did you know there are more empty homes in this country than homeless people? If I decide to splurge on only 100% ethically-produced products, and I can't make rent, and I become homeless, are YOU going to be there for me?? Or are you too busy litigating the endless tiny shames of poverty in your own community?

So I ask you again, are you SURE this is where you want to direct your punk energy?

Because there are a whole lot of rich people relying on people like us punching down and to the side instead of looking up to see where the money is going.

Because energy and time, as it turns out, are limited resources. And I would never expect you to secretly have more than you claim to have.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I found socks with my favorite flowers on them (nasturtiums!), but they literally don't match anything I own, so making an outfit with them is difficult.. just all black with the bright shoes and a random stuffed animal for accents lol

[zevrans]

[gxlden-angels]

Throughout all of this, I never thought about the potential for my family members to also deconstruct/leave fundamentalist christianity, even if they remained a more progressive christian in the end

[iamindifferenttolamp]

Obligatory gift giving is actually hell for adhd brain

Here's a task with incredibly open parameters and pretty strict expectations but those expectations are mostly a secret. How much should you spend? How many Things should you give? Secret. Will the person actually want what you get them? Illegal to ask because Surprise Is More Important. And if you do a Bad Job and get a Bad Grade on the secret rubric then that's just a sign that you don't know the person well enough and you're also getting a bad grade in Relationship

Oh and btw there's a deadline but most Things are sold online these days so you have to find the right things (which again, we can't tell you what they are) and obtain them not only by the deadline but before the deadline enough to then wrap them. Throw in a little travel and now your deadline's even sooner. But also shipping is a gamble so who knows if it will arrive when it says or not especially since it's the busiest time of the year for shipping so delays are to be expected

Did we mention that you can't opt out without a lot of advance notice and also even with that you'll still be told you're Bad and Wrong and Ruining Things and not participating in reciprocal relationships properly?

Don't get me wrong, I love when I spot a Thing and go !!! [Person] would love this!!! And then buy it for them and they are happy and I'm doing a Good Job. But when you add in that expectation and the need to seek out The Perfect Gift and a deadline that you have to find The Best Possible Gift within instead of just giving people things when inspiration strikes? No thank you not a fun time do not like one star at best

[running-in-the-dark]

over the past few days I've switched from watching lots of cleaning videos (which was good because they made me want to clean - though that effect is still there for now) to sewing videos (which is very very bad because now I want to sew more and get a sewing machine that actually works right (I got mine used for like 50€ and it's very basic and a lot of things just keep breaking/not working (which is probably at least in part because I don't know enough about using it correctly)))

[leatherbookmark]

went outside to grab shit for breakfast, immediately got bombarded with appearance issues

[cheekblush]

i gained a little weight and now 80% of my pants don't fit me anymore 🙃

[everythingroyalty]

non-european here, do most danish teens just dress that way? whenever i see isabella even in casual clothes i always wish i was as cool as her when i was her age 😂

Not really my age group 😅 but I feel like, in her everyday wear at least, Bella dresses like most Danish girls her age. I do think her affinity for a good power suit is pretty special for a 15 year old though. Especially for her confirmation – most girls opt for dresses.

[maenimalist]

my cardigan & blazers eras are now over :<

[medicinemane]

Hmm... looking into wool socks, seems like "super" is the term equivalent to thread count, though that there's no standard for it, and it seems that worsted combed is the processing that makes for the most comfortable least itchy stuff

Now I'm no expert on this, I just want warm socks that are comfortable. I just happened across a suit site and their info seems more broadly applicable

So maybe I can leverage it into warm socks, at the very least the bit about worsted vs woolen

[rskbunny]

kinda depressin I'm actually yearnin to do school work again just to have some meanin to my day... I get an entire week off to do whatever I want but I'm so lost with myself that I just looked to what past me procrastinated for years to finish.... but they were all pretty small tasks.... it should feel good to not have all those back ups, but I just feel empty... maybe I wouldn't feel empty if school didn't drain me into a school drillin machine......