#content writing jobs for beginners

[chatmetainr]

How to Find the Best Freelance Content Writer

Looking for a reliable and talented freelance content writer? Read this article for expert tips on hiring the best freelancer for your project. Featuring advice from top industry professionals, this article will help you find the perfect fit!

[socialvijay]

Get Paid To Do Simple Writing Jobs Online: Unlock Your Earning Potential!

In today's digital age, the opportunity to earn money from the comfort of your own home has become increasingly popular. As a freelance writer, I have explored numerous platforms that claim to offer simple writing jobs with competitive pay. Among these platforms, one that stands out is "Get Paid To Do Simple Writing Jobs Online."

From the moment I joined this platform, I was pleasantly surprised by the abundance of available writing opportunities. Whether you're a beginner looking to dip your toes into the world of online writing or an experienced wordsmith seeking additional income streams, this platform caters to a wide range of skill levels.

One of the standout features of this platform is its user-friendly interface. The website is well-designed and easy to navigate, ensuring a seamless experience from the moment you sign up. Additionally, the platform provides clear instructions and guidelines for each writing task, which is particularly helpful for those new to the industry. I found it refreshing to work with a platform that values the time and effort of its writers.

Online Writing Job That Pay $25 - $50 Per Hour. No Experience Required. Work At Home. 

Get Paid To Do Simple Writing Jobs Online

[marketncard]

Freelance Writing Jobs | Find the Best Freelance Writing Jobs

Freelance Writing Jobs – Welcome to the world of freelance writing. If you’re reading this, chances are you’re already a writer or aspire to be one. Freelance writing can be an exciting and rewarding career path, allowing you to work from anywhere in the world, set your own schedule, and pursue your passion for writing while earning a living. Understanding the requirements of freelance writing…

[nusrika]

Freelance writing jobs for beginners with no experience

https://affiliatesstuff.s3.amazonaws.com/POWJ/Videos/POWJ%20Instantapply.mp4 Online writing jobs earn up to $250 per day. Write on forums, Facebook, and Twitter, and Write eBay Listings Twitter online writing jobs Writers – $15 per Tweet Do you use Twitter? Do you have basic English writing skills? If so, these Twitter writing jobs might be perfect for you. They are paying $15 per Tweet, and all…

[todorokies]

jjk characters as male thot jobs

including: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, kento nanami

contents: sfw but very suggestive, jjk men acting like sluts, gn!reader but there is a fem term used once

a/n: you might not consider some of these as “thot jobs” but im here to hypnotize you ouuuuhhh *wiggles fingers around* .. this is so silly but i had a blast writing this one

☆ . . . since gojo’s brain is hardwired to find teasing others amusing and quite the pass time i could see him as a dentist. you go to your local clinic for a annual deep cleaning and this man purposely goes out of his way to make things seem inherently sensual but still manages to do his job professionally. he’ll coo and praise you for following the most regular orders “now open real nice and wide for me … that’s righttt, good girl.” and “bite down on this … mhm yes just like that, you’re doing a great job.”

he’d definitely be like the annoying ones who still try to have a conversation while knuckles-deep prodding in your mouth. “i can tell you haven’t been flossing as much as you should be, what’s up with that?” and all you can do is narrow your eyes at him. he always caress your jaw and cheek too even through the latex gloves his touches are so intimate and gentle at the end of your appointment you’ll be genuinely considering if you should fuck your dentist or not.

☆ . . . i had multiple options for geto but firmly decided on a ceramic artist. i can envision him owning a modern yet whimsical pottery studio —he wanted the modern look but nanako and mimiko insist on the whimsical interior.— he offers free beginner classes twice a month. omgg the way his hands knead at the clay and skillfully sculpts on the wheel with his fingers meticulously bending, making his veins more prominent while delicately morphing the creation into a vase. he annunciates his instructions with melodic calmness but still has authority present in his tone i swearrr his voice is like honey.

you catch his eye in one of his classes and offers extended hours free of charge to help you “better your form.” he sits behind you, cradling your forearms directing your movements but still making room for you to assist your own creation. his warm minted breath tickles the back of your neck causing goosebumps “make sure to sit close to the wheel and anchor your elbows tightly against your body…” the sultry in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed with him slightly moving to your ear next “don’t be afraid to make mistakes it’s all about trial and error darling.”

☆ . . . like the unemployed bum toji is, he seems like the type of man to pride himself as a ‘jack of all trades.’ which is why i see him in the freelancer field of work, specifically, a personal shopper. he has an app on his phone where he can either accept or deny requests. he’s quite picky with commissions when money isn’t running low, but don’t get him wrong, he’s willing to go the extra mile to please his clients. always prefers phone calls over text when discussing farther details knowing his gruff voice will have the recipient weak in the knees. he isn’t shameful to treat his full time employment as a part time hookup arrangement…if he’s lucky enough that is.

“here’s your stuff pretty.” the quite taller and muscular man at your porch hands over a brown bag containing your groceries. you don’t miss the way his hands graze yours in the exchange, his sharp eyes examine you like you’re his prey; awaiting for your next move in a game you involuntarily started playing. words of gratitude try to slither past your lips but ultimately couldn’t —you’ve officially peaked his interest— “hey, why don’t i help you unload your items?” at that you nodded making way for the sleazy man to enter your home and eventually your bedroom as well.

☆ . . . what differentiates nanami from the rest is that he’s unaware of how insanely attractive his profession as a baker is. he truly doesn’t understand the appeal of a man in an apron kneading dough and decorating pink frilly cupcakes. he co-owns a bakery with haibara !! they even enrolled in culinary school together. the interior is quite morden with wisteria and other succulent plants hanging from the ceiling; most of the time he’s clueless to very clear advances from others or kindly shut them down saying how he’s “not looking for anything serious” which is a lie he himself started to believe.

but on a faithful sunday autumn morning you stroll in just salivating at the thought of warm dewy chocolate filled croissants, fresh from the oven, when you see him; clad in a bulky knitted cream sweater tying a black apron around his slim waist whilst his becipes bulged slightly through the thick material of the sweater. “good morning, what can i get for you today?” one thing lead to another making you leave with not only a croissant but the blond man’s phone number —due thanks to his cheeky younger coworker, yuji, who wrote the number on your receipt including a note that read: ‘he’s soooo into you :)’—

reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3

[wildbluesorbit]

London || JTK

18+MDNI

Paring: asshole!Jakexreader(f)

A/N: ITS FINALLY HERE! I can’t even tell y’all how nervous I am; this is my first fic AND the first smut I’ve ever written. I’m a Third Eye Blind freak and just generally think this song is one of the sexiest songs in existence so naturally I knew I wanted to write this fic. Big big love and thank you’s for my editor @tommie-gvf. I loved writing this so much and didn’t think it could get any better until I saw everyone’s reactions.❤️‍🩹

I ask for your patience as I’m a beginner and am very open to criticism. Pretty please tell me what you think!

Summary || Jake has a lover that lives in London. He visits her every time he’s in town, but recently the simmering situationship has taken a toxic turn.

Content Warnings || swearing, alcohol consumption, party setting, toxic relationship, jealousy, over possession, verbal aggression, slight physical aggression, big angst, graphic sexual depictions

Kink Content || dom(m) and sub(f) shift, [semi] public sex, dirty talk; praise & [public] degradation, sadism, zelophilia, katoptronophilia, daddy kink, slight impact play, nipple play, dry humping, hand job, ejaculation(f), oral sex(f receiving), penetrational sex

Word Count || 8.3k+

*disclaimer - I have no idea how to write any European, reader’s origin is up for interpretation*

You continue to refresh your phone screen in hopes that it will load a new message or maybe even reveal a glitch.

“You know,” your best friend, Claire, aspires to tempt you back to reality, “that guy hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since we got here, right?”

A hum in acknowledgment of her bait is the only thing your split attention will allow as you proceed in refreshing your messages. Even going as far to restart your phone.

“He's kind of cute,” you return another hum as she sings further, “like really cute.”

“Go on then, have a go,” you try to push her self-assigned matchmaking duties back on her.

You have no choice but to be shoved back into the rumbustious surroundings of the overpopulated flat party as your phone is suddenly ripped from your hands. Claire raises it above her head not even bothering to investigate what might be holding you hostage. She is well aware of your antics.

“Please don’t tell me you're texting him again,” she lifts the device higher as you futilely lunge for it.

“He said he was coming,” you begin to gather a defense, “but I haven’t gotten a response since I sent the address… maybe hold my phone a bit higher?”

Claire lets out a monstrous groan of frustration and rolls her eyes, “You really are helpless!”

“I know,” you repine and give her your best pleading puppy dog eyes and hold two starving hands out in front of you.

Begrudgingly she gives in, slamming your phone against your awaiting palms. As soon as your phone is back in your possession you return to refreshing your messages, all in vain of course.

Whenever Jake was in London he always visited you, sometimes even flying you out to whatever part of Europe his show was in or just because he wanted to see you. A trail of one night stands that became ritual.

The nights always started out modest, the two of you innocently traipsing about parties and bars accompanied by his brothers. You would all share drinks and stories for hours, belly laughing until you were ceased by sore ribs, as if you had all been friends for decades.

Nevertheless without fail, as the drinks poured further so did Jake’s appetite for you. He'd always shadow you with some kind of seemingly harmless touch; a hand on the small of your back progressed into squeezing your knee and then thigh, to tugging you into him by the waist when he was made uncomfortable or wanted to share a secret amongst chaotic surroundings.

One by one, his brothers would slowly fade out; Sam first, then Danny, and Josh was always the last to let the party die, taking it with him when he went. From that point, the evenings between you and Jake would morph into a primitive and sensual burn. Teasing and tearing at each other until the two of you eventually spent the rest of your night curled around the other. Once again, darting back to your guarded bubble of shy soft intimacy; neither of you willing to accept it was different from anything else anyone made you feel. Time spent together was something the both of you always rushed through days for, memories neatly placed in a treasure chest of beloved keepsakes when it was over.

But lately, it was different. Something brittle and bitter had blossomed. Jake had gotten only bigger and busier. Sometimes, he’d pule about missing you so naturally you’d beg to see him. He’d send beautiful trinkets and fine clothing from whatever part of the world he was in that next week to ineffectively make up for his absence no token would ever emulate.

Though you are elated for him, you are also acutely aware of your need to move on in order to outrun the pining tidal wave that threatens to swallow you whole. You’d tried before, but no man was Jake. And seeing you with other men only spelled him into a envious fit. A sight that tormented you both, the other too afraid to cry out as nothing was ever set in stone.

So instead you’d go to war over some irrelative thing and he’d ultimately swear on his beloved he didn’t give a shit about you and when or if he’d see you again; only to gift you some pretty peace offering in amends to offset the vigorous cycle once again.

Like a vinyl record against the needle, the two of you are going round and round the same circle; different songs, same sonic. You know if the pattern continues, you are slowly headed towards the dead wax. You hope tonight will mend the broken pieces between you as he vowed he’d come to spoil you a few weeks ago.

“You need to cut him off,” Claire has stated her stance on the situationship brazenly before, “all he does is treat you like shit. He entertains you from a distance and keeps you waiting until he wants to get his dick wet.”

Having been through this debate with her many times, you only frown and exhale, “It's not like that and you know it.”

She mirrors your disapproval, “Isn’t it?”

Just as you are forming your rebuttal your phone buzzes in your hands; confiscating your ability to exist anywhere other than your screen. It might as well have looked like you were going to dial 9-9-9 the way you dementedly scramble to open your phone.

JAKE:

Hey, angel. Sorry, I got stuck at this dive with my brothers and now they don’t want to leave. I think we’re just going to spend the rest of the night here. Maybe I’ll catch you next time?

You had not been enjoying your time at this party. You had been ignoring your best friend. You had been ignoring cute flirty strangers. You had been exuberantly anticipating Jake’s company tonight for months. All to be left on read, pathetically pining for hours now; all so you could be stood up by the man.

Your chest bursts with flames of mortified resentment, fueled by his impudence. Irate does not even scratch the surface of how your heart pounds. Your blood is scalding, skin scorching.

Jake made you feel stupid yet again.

Your face must give you away before you can even get out a word of impertinence as you look up from the insolent text to see Claire smugly sipping her drink.

A knowing smirk spreads viral across her face, “He's not coming, is he?”

The last thing you want to do is tell her bitch ass she is right in your state of red. Instead, you offer her a question you know will sate her pride without feeding on your wounds.

A vengeful grin takes hold of you “Cute stranger checking me out, you mentioned?”

You have never seen her look so pleased with herself as she nods in the direction of a man at the end of the bar whose gaze you hold.

There is no way you are going to let this night go to waste. Not after Jake made such a desperate-looking fool out of you.

You decide if he is going to ignore you it's going to be his loss, not yours. You are not going to let him waste your time and you are definitely not going to let him take your fun.

You throw your most alluring eyes and innocent smile at the stranger and wave him over. He returns the greeting and calls some indiscernible phrases out to the bartender before receiving three drinks and walking over to your table.

He is tall, dark, and handsome. The complete opposite of Jake. A promise of great distraction.

He sets the three drinks down at your table pushing two glasses of what he claims to be screwdrivers towards Claire and yourself. He then proceeds to introduce himself as Hunter through an almost seemingly painful giant smile.

You can’t help but compare it to your favorite pretty and childlike grin Jake always wore, a sight you ache for.

You cordially engage in small talk with him, asking and answering the procedural “Where are you from?”, “What do you do?”, and “What do you like to do?”; fitting in the occasional desirous glances and seemingly innocent yet lingering touches when appropriate.

He is definitely funny, but not witty and satirical like Jake’s humor; undeniably intelligent, but not in the philosophical and existential sense like Jake.

You mentally berate yourself for still thinking about a guy who is obviously not thinking about you when Hunter clutches your hand, ripping you from your dissociation.

He points towards the middle of the flat where you see multiple people frolicking about, “Do you want to dance?”

Why the hell not? You throw back the rest of your drink and smirk wide in response. This seems to oddly appease Hunter but you think nothing of it as you feel yourself being towed to the make-shift dance floor.

At first, the movements are modest, just an adventurous activity between acquaintances. But after a few songs, you feel the alcohol rid you of your inhibitions, most likely against your better judgment, but at this moment you can’t seem to wrap your fingers around any care if you tried.

You grind and tangle yourself up with this man you hardly know. He seems into it and you are blissfully swept away from your afflictions, a win-win. So what is the harm?

As soon as the thought has come and gone, you feel it; an overwhelming perilous sensation of being surveilled. You turn your attention over to where you had left Claire at your table to see her deeply engaged in conversation with Josh.

Fuck. Where there is a Josh there is most certainly a Jake.

You whirl towards the flat’s bar to lock eyes with the source of the sinister stare; an infuriated Jake leaning against the countertop, arms crossed. He holds your gaping stare with a blistering nostril-flared one of his own, licking over his salient bottom lip into that bewitching pout and clenching his jaw.

A small part of you threatens to collapse under guilt as if you have been caught doing something wrong. But you find the majority of you seethes under a new tantalizing flame, devouring any clemency present.

Almost drunk off of this new power dynamic, finally, you have the upper hand and Jake is the one squirming. Of course, you want Jake over this clown any day of the week but he had made you wait almost all night, he can definitely handle a few more minutes.

You spin, now facing towards Jake’s beaming acrimony from the bar, allowing him a full access view to you commandeering one of Hunter's hands connected to the small of your back and slowly guiding him down to your ass, the other to your waist. You press your backside against his pelvis and his hips follow, grinding in the motions of your own.

You stretch upward as high behind you as you can, sinking your fingers into Hunter’s thick black curls. Just to sell it, you showmanly lean your head back against Hunter’s shoulder and whisper sweet nothings in his ear when he leans down into you.

You glance up at your petulant victim to see Jake roll his eyes and throw his head back in a deriding chuckle before he slams down the rest of his pint. Jake is most certainly under your spell.

You tell yourself that each song with Hunter is the last dance until you’re unsure how many have passed. Any concept of time you own is completely suspended in the delicious way Jake looks when he is hungry to devour what he can’t have, and in this moment it happens to be you.

Abruptly, you feel yourself being swept towards the nearest wall and your face being tilted up towards Hunter’s as he cranes his mouth down to meet yours.

It is nice. Pleasurable for sure. He is definitely a good kisser, but again all you can bring yourself to think of is Jake’s perfectly pink pouty lips pressed against yours.

There is no point in tormenting Jake if you are just as miserable.

As you are about to break away from the stale kiss, Hunter’s weight that is pinning you up against the wall unexpectedly falters, sending you fumbling to the floor. You attempt to regain your balance but the room is slightly spinning, a likely side effect from the alcohol in your bloodstream. You might have questioned it having only had a drink or two if your focus wasn’t currently employed by figuring your way back to vertical.

A hand makes its way into your line of sight, offering to help you up. You swat away the aid, recognizing it as Jake’s. He huffs and shakes his head vexed. Jake brings himself closer to the whirling stack of bones that you are on the floor and tenaciously claps his rangy hands around your waist; making a show to assign his fingers in the exact arrangement where Hunter’s had just been. He devoutly springs you to your feet as if you'd rehearsed the move. As soon as you gain your footing you step back from Jake and dust yourself off, despite landing on a clean floor.

You inspect your crumbs of clues; the boys glaring at each other and at the brink of verbal warfare. You arrive at the conclusion that a fuming Jake had let all restraint dissipate as he shoved Hunter off of you in his impulsive fit.

“Why don’t you go find some other victim to slam into a wall,” Jake snarls, “she’s had enough for tonight.”

“She didn’t seem to have a problem when she was dancing all over me,” Hunter shoots back genuinely confused, “are you supposed to be her boyfriend or something?”

You race to interject, “He is not,” addressing Hunter but then throw your finger in Jake’s face, “and you have no right-”

Hunter takes one big territorial step to cleat himself between you and your oppressor. An exasperated Jake scowls at your fictitious defender and back to you, his features melting into a sickened sight as if to ask if you are really going to allow him to be vilified as the threat.

Of course protection from Jake is the last thing you will ever need. He could say whatever he’d like but Jake will never lay a harmful finger to you.

However, the hunt makes the game. You subtly shrug at Jake and let the mens’ egos carry out your dirty work.

Hunter sets his fist on Jake’s sternum in an attempt to get him to step back, “Mate, she doesn’t seem to be into it so why don’t you give us some space.”

This is the trigger that detonates the antagonized man just in front of your human shield.

“Oh trust me, mate,” he mimics Hunter in an explosion, the shrapnel riding your blood to your cheeks, “when I say I happen to know what the little slut is into and it is definitely not-” Jake is cut off by a panicky Josh now stepping in between the two before Jake can say anything he can’t take back.

Josh seems to instruct his detesting brother through glances. You always find it hard to properly digest a situation with the appropriate amount of severity when the twins begin conversing with mere facial expressions.

It only lasts for a second or two before Jake refixes his glare towards Hunter. Mirroring Jake, Josh returns to Hunter with an antsy smile and places a friendly hand on his barely-reachable shoulder, as if he is about to deliver bad news.

“Sorry about him,” he starts to mediate, motioning towards his fuming twin he shrugs and chuckles nervously, “tequila makes him aggressive.”

You almost giggle at Josh’s flamboyant rescue. He is a detail oriented man who is verbally quick on his feet. He usually paints pictures you can not poke holes in. So you know he must be distraught or drunk as you hadn't even seen Jake drink an ounce of liquor since he arrived.

However, Hunter doesn’t seem quite as amused as he slaps Josh's hand off and grunts, “Whatever, I don’t do crazy exes anyway.”

He insincerely waves you off and facetiously blows Jake a kiss in one last satirical jab before sauntering off, dematerializing amongst the crowd.

Jake now recoils from Josh’s touch and waits for him to vanish as well. However, Josh’s sight seeks you and bears a disapproving nod, warning you to behave in a glower. For a split second, you forget he is a twin as his protective demeanor is all that of a vigilant elder sibling.

Nevertheless, Josh makes his way back to where he had been so unnecessarily interrupted and dragged away from Claire.

Your attention gravitates to Jake in daggers. Before you can form any thoughts or strategy, venom goes flying past your lips, “What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!”

Jake swivels his head around, slightly panicking at all the partygoers that had stopped party going to sightsee this freak show. He never likes to be the center of attention unless he has six strings and a fretboard under his fingers.

Nimbly, he leads you by the arm into the nearby bathroom and slams the door shut.

You throw your arms out in confusion, “Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

He fires back, “No, just my patience with you!”

The room is small enough now that his scent circulates and the offensive smell of beer and bourbon attacks your senses; which explains his uncharacteristic boldness.

“Shit, Jake, you smell like a fucking brewery,” you spit out.

He seems to grasp how sloppy he let himself get. Your words siphon a hint of sobriety as he takes a deep breath and now speaks to you with a much more repealed approach.

You can tell he is still upset but is focusing on his convictions for the moment, “Are you okay? I didn’t mean for you to fall like that.” He hesitates, “And I’m sorry- I have no idea why I called you slut- I didn’t mean-”

You are nearly swept away by the sweet breeze of your angelic Jake; the one that trips over his words when he gets excited and loves to take on whimsical personas of his own invention. Jake that is present and kind, even at the end of the night. But just like a fleeting breeze, you easily withstand his charms.

He may have found his composure but you certainly did not, not that you want to, “I’m fine, Jacob! Want to explain whatever the shit that was?!”

Any remorse present in his tone abandons him, “Oh please, you wanted that! I could see it all over your face while you were messing with that prick. I don’t even know why I'm surprised. You’re like a child who throws a fucking fit. The moment I don't do or tell you exactly what you want you go throw yourself into the arms of some random no-good fuck. I knew you were with him as soon as you went radio silent.”

You narrow your eyes at him. You’re almost suspicious of the blank canvas he’s left for you to fill in with logic; he’s usually ten points ahead when debating, never speaking a vulnerable statement for someone to collapse before him. You are almost hesitant to ask the question.

Your hand finds your hip as a means to reinforce your interrogation, “That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t own me, Jake! So what if I was dancing with Hunter?”

He rolls his eyes and growls at the mention of his name. If Jake were an ounce more theatrical you swear he would have gagged too.

You cross your arms and lean into the balls of your feet as you sharpen your questions, knowing you have him trapped, “If you knew, why did you even show up then? Why do you even care? It’s not like I’m your girlfriend or anything?”

He blurts out way too quickly to disguise any aloofness, “I don’t care!”

Jake immediately throws his head back in defeat and groans, crumbling under further rumination of your questions, as if they frustrate him as much as they do you, “I don’t know! You just- It kills me to see you- sometimes- you make me so-”

He is struggling to articulate his thoughts without making himself look like the blatant asshole, but you see right through it.

You, however, have no problem spitting the word out. In fact, it progresses the igneous tension between the two of you into a delicious sweltering burn.

You dangle the word right in front of him just to watch him squirm, “Jealous?”

The accusation furrows his brow and tightens his shoulders.

If you didn’t know any better, his sudden dark tone would have you red with shame for such an accusation, “You think I’m jealous? Trust me, kitten, you haven’t even seen jealousy. Go fuck that guy for all I care.”

You giggle and raise a slanderous eyebrow, soundlessly challenging his overtly bogus defense. Your defiance vacillates Jake back to his munition.

He charges towards you, his footsteps following the alignment of his pointer finger swinging in your direction, “What the fuck are you smiling at- You know what?! Fuck this and fuck you! You always do this. Always getting me into more trouble than I bargain for.”

Jake is growling in fragments now, growing taller with every step he takes drawing in towards you, surrendering to your gravity.

“This isn’t me! I’m not this person who gets jealous and fights with strangers at a party,” he gestures his clenched fists towards you, arms length away now, “And I don’t like being angry with you!”

Jake corners you between the wall and a stall, yet his rushing commute ceases to falter, “And what’s worse is I actually think you enjoy this! You must get off on this! I think you want to see me lose my mind!”

Jake is close enough that you are now confronted by the moles that cradle his right jaw, the charming silver starting to streak from his temples, the sculpt in the cartilage of his prominent nose, and the slight uneven curl of his upper lip. Details no camera could capture and no screaming fan could ever have knowledge of; intimate details one would ever amass without his admission.

If he moves any closer he would have to kiss you. He scolded you for getting worked up off his anger when he was doing the exact same thing. The worst part being you aren’t even sure if he has caught on to this rage-driven gravitation between the two of you. His face reads “Caution, stay away,” but his body is imploring you to take care of him. He is right where you want him, giving you all the power once again.

He resumes waving his finger at you and stiffly pokes your collarbone. He opens his mouth to make another point but his words never deliver themselves. You see his very thoughts dematerialize as he touches your buzzing skin.

He doesn’t even lift his finger from you, just lets it fall to the start of your breasts, making your chest heave. He subconsciously presses his body to yours; so close you catch his erratic breaths on your lips.

You hastily retort while he is distracted, “That’s pretty amusing considering you're the asshole that ruined my night, not the other way around, slut.”

He rakes the pad of his finger still connected to you, up your clavicle till it rests at the top of your outermost prominent neck muscle, delicately wrapping the rest of his digits around your throat once he runs out of room. He sinks further into your orbit so that he is now hovering just above your features.

“Look at you, just begging for someone to put you in your place,” he rasps out, ever so slightly applying a teasing pressure to reduce your air flow.

Collecting yourself enough to stream your words out in a lazy river, you dare taunt the feral man that holds your next breath between his fingers, “Look at you, Jacob, absolutely rabid with jealousy.”

“I’ve had it with your little attitude,” his hand delectably contorts further around your throat in a fit of conniption as he roars through clenched teeth, “Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn’t fucking drag me here to make me jealous.”

“Bite me, Jake,” you roll your eyes at his arrogance.

You expect him to snap at you, to reprimand you for your insubordination. However, to your surprise he laps one long stripe from the corner of your pout to the start of your cheekbone. The action expels your nerves into shock; a shudder slithers its way up your spine.

Jake sighs against the shell of your ear, “Is that why you’re being such a little fucking brat? You just want me to bite you, sweetheart? Is that it?”

Your only response is a whimper as a crackling heat awakes between your thighs and your hips grind into Jake on their own accord; giving him the only answer he needs.

Satiated by your feedback, Jake nearly moans at regaining the upper hand, “I swear- and why should I even care, kitten?”

You urgently squeal, struggling against your constricting airway, “Because it’s your fault! I’ve never craved attention until you did this to me!”

Cocking his head to the side to purport the appearance of a disapproving analysis, he mocks your need, “How did we end up like this, beautiful? We are absolutely no good for each other.”

You don’t bother devising a clever response, knowing he’s already decided to give you what you want.

He clenches his jaw and runs his tongue along the ridges of his teeth, twisting the pink muscle into the crevices of his molars, “It’s rude to stare, kitten. Do I need to teach you how to use that pretty smart mouth of yours?”

You only bat your eyes at him, your expressionless face waiting for what you know comes next.

He raises an eyebrow at you, impatient for some response and mutters, “Say something.”

A shit-eating grin sneaks its way onto your face, “Don’t forget to lock the door, babyboy.”

Jake’s once kind eyes grow dark to an absolutely immoral shade of lust. Heedlessly, his lips crash against yours, the sensation you’ve fantasized about since the last time his mouth deserted yours. He tastes of bourbon and peaches.

He slips his hands around your ass and hauls you up to straddle his waist. You wrap your legs around him as he staggers towards the door lock as you instructed, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you long enough to complete the task first.

Jake places you on the sink and protestingly pries himself back from you, as if starving for more but looking at you was a vital duty he must perform.

His eyes plot you up and down, infatuated with this strand of you, reserved only for him. You don’t have to say a word for Jake to know what happens when he’s away; the way you move for him confesses everything he is already aware of. He is the only one capable of having you completely and utterly vulnerable and unguarded and unadulterated; animalistically yourself.

For the first time tonight, Jake’s pretty pout draws back in a genuine smile for you; a giddy fool and his favorite fix.

He gracefully reaches to untie your wrap blouse and it falls to your sides, uncurtaining your heaving breasts. He hums in satisfaction of your physique.

Jake lightly places his hands on your knees and observes as his fingers featherly dance upon your thighs, only to stop and squeeze into the thick of them until he leaves white imprints. He curls into you, Jake’s perpetually exposed chest rubbing against your newly bare nipples, extracting a hiss from you.

Your core already weeps with need.

The hungry man burrows his face into your neck but stops right before his lips meet your skin, knowing you desperately need his mouth.

He teases you with a tickling whisper, “Fuck- I missed you. They don’t make girls like you in Nashville.”

The ribbing huff of his breath makes you shudder.

You press your hand against his hip, slide it down the curve of his thigh and inward till you map out his hard length through his pants, “I can see, you poor thing.”

Your movement draws a low growl from him in your ear, “Fuck- You see what you do to me, kitten? You see all the problems you cause me?”

You begin to palm him through his clothes and feign out a bratty whine, “Yes, but we always have such a good time, don’t we Jakey?”

Jake begins to eat at your neck while you continue to caress him until he moves down and out of your reach.

He plots out your clavicle, licking down your sternum through the valley of your peaking breasts; delaying his journey to lap one of your nipples into his warm salacious mouth as he gropes the other in his lanky hand. A few mumbled swears fall from you as Jake begins to venture in biting and sucking marks into the supple flesh of your breasts, soothing each spot with candied kisses afterwards.

“Shit- just when I thought these perfect tits couldn’t get any prettier. An absolutely breathtaking sight with my bitemarks,” he pants.

Jake’s mouth resumes its migration south to your goosebump ridden thighs. He sinks his fingers into the flesh of your ass, resting his elbows against the corners of the sink for balance as he lowers the rest of his body to accommodate the angle of your glistening center.

His mouth now takes purchase of where his fingertips had just deserted your thighs, kissing away the residual sting; closer and closer to your entrance till his head vanishes, canopied in between your skirt and legs. You feel the heat of his huffing through the lace of your panties. The sensation alone is enough to make you whine with need. Jake then bites into the material of your damp thong, sampling your arousal as he tugs your underwear to the side using his teeth. Jake plants his lips to yours in a row of delicate kisses, making you quiver with anticipation.

“Wider,” he growls out the demand.

You lean back to let your bare shoulder blades rest against the ice cold mirror behind you in order to grant him better access to your wetness. Jake is entranced as he gapes at how the chill glass spells you to hiss and clench around nothing.

He takes a deep inhale of you and slots the tip of his nose against your entrance. In one agonizingly slow movement he reclines his head so that his nose flits over your aching clit as he sticks out the flat of his tongue to follow the lewd trail.

You open your mouth to sing his praises but all that comes out is his name in a hiccuping squeak.

He then wraps his ample lips around your throbbing clit and nimbly sucks it into the warm plush of his mouth, swirling his velvety tongue around your bud.

The deed elicits a piteous wail to escape you and the confiscation of any remaining control over your restless limbs. Your hips involuntarily swing forward, seeking more of his mouth.

He rewards you with a swift smack against your thigh, “Easy,” he begins to plant light kisses on your entrance, “needy little thing today, aren’t you?”

Having not fully removed his mouth from you, the vibrations of his teasing words sends unexpected ripples of titillation humming through you, instigating your reeling squirms further, “Relax, kitten. I know how to take care of you. I know what you need.”

He finally unlatches his other hand from your ass. You hadn’t even registered the delicious sting of his fingers over the imperious pleasure of his mouth; a pain promising to blossom into pretty hues of purples, blues, and greens.

He delineates the curve of your thigh with his fingertips, finally fluttering over your entrance. Impatiently, he hikes your skirt up to bunch at your waist. He savagely yanks your lace underwear down and over your ankles, not even bothering to wait for you to adjust to help slip the material off. He looks to you with a seemingly innocent goofy grin as he pockets his newly pillaged treasure.

You roll your eyes and press your lips together to stifle your obvious giggle. In a feigned offense, Jake snatches your ankles in his grasp to reestablish his authority and your attention. Slowly, he lifts your legs to settle your thighs around his shoulders, careful not to throw off your balance on the porcelain counter.

You lock your ankles around him as his hands pet up your legs and wrap around your thighs to bore into your flesh. Jake reintroduces his mouth to your soaking entrance, sloppily devouring your nectar.

Though pleasing, you know he is holding out on you. Jake loves to hear you beg; for you to pray for what you know he can’t help but give you.

“Jake, more,” you demand despite knowing it will land void.

He immediately ceases his feed and arrogantly reminds you of your place, “Oh, I don’t think you’re in any position to give orders now, are you kitten?”

Mourning the loss of his mouth, you choke on a sob, “No, Jake!”

He tenderly begins to brush his digits along your skin, “That’s right, but I happen to know that pretty mouth sings a lot lovelier than she barks.”

He moves one of his thumbs to circle over your swollen clit as incentive, making his compulsion undeniable.

You desperately pant out your pleas, “Please- Shit- Please, Jake. I need- Jake- Fuck- fingers?”

“Sorry, baby, you’re not making any sense,” he terrorizes you now, stretching a free digit from your bud to tease your entrance.

You manage to piece together your needs enough to satisfy him, “Jake- please, I need your fingers- need them inside me- I need to soak them- please, baby?”

Your scandalous words draw a sweet moan from him. The vivacious grant of your request tells you he can’t stand to make you wait any longer.

He begins pumping his middle and ring finger inside you, making you mewl his name.

He once again envelopes your clit in his lips and begins to suck and lap you towards ecstasy. You feel the euphoric tension strain your abdomen as Jake curls his fingers around the spot he always seems to effortlessly discover.

“Fuck- Jake don’t stop- please- please don’t stop,” your voice reaches the high pitch only he brings it to.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, you sound too pretty with my fingers inside you to deny,” he coos against your sensitive clit.

Jake’s lustful praises send you into an orgasmic haze as your walls squeeze around his fingers and back arches away from the mirror.

As he feels you getting close, Jake begins to coach you, “Relax for me, beautiful. Can you relax that pretty pussy for me?”

You inventory only enough coherency to wantonly moan, indicating your process of his demand.

“Good girl, that's it. Just breathe and take it,” his praises coerce you into obedience.

Even though every endorphin in your body is imploring you to writhe at Jake’s touch, you do your best to relax and breathe as he ordered. You relent to Jake’s fingers, allowing him to caress into a new spot, a fresh wave of sensitivity finding you.

He knows he’s found the place as soon as you squeal his name in response. He begins to violently fuck deep into you with his hand, pumping in and out of you, his fingertips catching his new target every time, catapulting you into your orgasm. You're consumed by white heat as you soar through your ecstasy.

You’ve cleared through your orgasm yet oddly the tension in your abdomen is not alleviated but is now twice as constricting.

Jake never ceases to send his fingers in and out of you at a furious pace and the pressure that builds is of a different class, requiring your whole body to participate in your release. Where he was once babying his mark, he is now assaulting it; his digits curling into you with every pump. The sloppy sounds of Jake finger fucking you grows louder with every stroke.

His lips swallow your clit, slurping you into his mouth for safekeeping, sending you into overdrive as you approach this new release. Your pussy begins to convulse and contract around Jake but he drives into you faster still.

“That’s it, babygirl, cum for me. I’ve missed having you on my tongue,” his words barely make their way into your consciousness.

Your vision begins to black out as your eyes roll back and your slick sprays his face and coats his hands.

Yet, Jake refuses to cease his assault. Your climax builds within you so tight, it rips its way out of you. Your cunt expels a deluge of liquids and continues to pour into Jake’s hand with every dizzying clench of your cunt. Again. Again. And again. Until you are downpour, trickling past his wrist and onto the tile floor.

“Fucking shit- Jacob- don’t stop- I can’t- I’m still cumming- Ja- Baby- Jacob,” your voice melodically crashes and breaks against waves of rasping screams and swearing whimpers louder still, floating off somewhere in oblivion.

Jake thinks it's the most beautiful you’ve ever sounded. Your body finally gives, and you collapse back against the mirror behind the sink. After a few seconds you peek your eyes open to see the mess you made.

He pulls away from you to stand once again and observes his glistening hand in a gaping awe, unphased by your cum dripping down his chin.

“I love when you do that,” he mutters more to himself than you as he slurps your elixir from his own limb.

He isn’t even touching you but the pornagraphic sight reels a moan from you.

“Does my beautiful girl want a taste of her own orgasm?”

He places his fingers along your lips, waiting for your consent. You stick your tongue out and he slides his digits up along the textured muscle until you stifle a slight gag; the veins that decorate his knuckles pressing into your top lip.

He pulls your mouth closer to his with his fingers, slipping them out just before he slides his tongue between your lips; you further taste your glaze as he licks into your mouth.

He impatiently pulls away from you with a hungry groan and scatters to undo his belt. His pants fall to his ankles, his normally hidden curves now visible; a delectable sight you will never grow tired of. His physique is appetizingly curvier than most men and the very view made your dripping pussy flutter without remedy.

Jake catches your ravenous stare and arrogantly quips, “See something you like, kitten?”

Rather than respond, you greedily grab at him and slip your fingers under the waistband of his boxers. You tug him closer along with the material and shimmy it down to liberate his hard painfully pink penis.

“I missed you too,” you run a finger over his leaking tip, causing his head to roll back in a hiss, “and this pretty cock.”

In one swift movement, you quickly gather your remaining arousal on his face in your free hand and reach down to slather his throbbing dick. You lay messy open mouth kisses along his jaw and neck as you now lightly pump him in your hand.

“Fuck- you’re so hot,” Jake rasps out at the loss of composure; his mouth slacks agape as you continue to jerk him off.

You move your hand to flick at his head and his features further melt in bliss.

“Slow down,” he whimpers, ”I want to be dripping down your thighs, not your hand,” his statement demands your submission.

You can tell Jake is unraveling fast as he starts twitching in your fingers. He is close until he obstinately pulls you away from him by the wrist.

You pout out an apology and he relocates your hands around his shoulders, and grabs your waist as he paints your cheek with open mouth kisses. His tongue works a long stripe behind your ear and sucks your lobe into his mouth.

He speaks through teeth clenched around your cartilage, “You always misbehave like such a brat, but underneath it all my girl is just a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

His intimate words alone render you to a din of pitiful mutters and swears.

You feel him begin to press his hard cock into the thick of your thigh, involuntarily pursuing relief, “You just need someone who knows what you are, hmm? Knows what you need?”

You praise and beg as your center is reintroduced to that familiar ache, “Jake, please. You know what I need.”

The sensation of Jake grinding himself against your leg dissolves all restraint. You try to buck your hips towards him in search of what you want most, but he doesn’t let you succeed. Jake arrests your waist to push you further back onto the sink.

He snickers at your cupidity, “What a greedy little slut. Just came a fucking mess and you already want more.”

You stroke his ego with hopes flattery will seduce him, “Yes- I’m a glutton for you, please, Jake?”

You scoot back up to the edge of the sink and grab at him; mad for his touch. Instead, your ambition is requited with a stinging smack to your cunt as he bellows the command, “Sit still! I’m not going to tell you again.”

You can’t help the fearless groan that echoes throughout the small room.

He bitterly miffs, “Yea? Should have thought about that before you were fucking around with that shit for brains?”

“Jake, I’m sorry,” you gravel, growing more impatient by the second that you can’t feel him.

Your insincere words purchase you no spoils as he taunts you further, “Good- You have no idea. I wanted to break his fucking nose wide open! What was his name again, sweet thing?”

Before you can fashion any remark, he yanks you to teeter on the end of the countertop once again. Jake, shaft in hand, drives his throbbing tip just past your lips, and flicks himself against your sensitive clit.

Your knuckles grip white against the corners of the porcelain struggling to remain in place as you whimper gibberish, “Fuck- Jake- I- MMM- fuck-”

“Look at my good sweet girl, so cock drunk she can’t even remember the pawn she was using to make me jealous a few minutes ago,” he smugly croons.

He featherly runs his fingers through the tresses of your hair. As he smooths down your mane you cave into his touch.

“I fucking hated seeing you with him,” his words drip with scorn, “It killed me. You deserve better because you’re my good girl.”

Lining himself up to press into your labia, he docks his forehead against your clavicle to look down at his toying with you. Slightly arching forward, his pink head only just glides past your entrance.

You are teetering over the line of ditzy, Jake’s tantalizing quips being the only tether before you are too far gone, “What a filthy slut? Playing dirty to get Daddy’s attention?”

Any remaining composure flees from you as the name is growled against your skin and you immediately call it back to him, “Shit- I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Daddy. Please, fuck me?!”

One hand still residing in your hair, he tugs by the root to guide your ear to his open mouth, “Well you’ve got my attention now, my sweet little fucked out thing.”

Without warning, Jake mercilessly thrusts himself inside you to the hilt. You slap your hand over your mouth to silence the obscene wails tearing through you.

Jake promptly rips your hand away, “Don’t you fucking dare. I want everyone to hear my little cock drunk slut sing.”

Without granting you an opportunity to adjust to his girth, he pulls himself nearly all the way out just to plunge himself all the way back in, driving into that magical spot.

Just as that illustrious need grows in your stomach, Jake pulls out completely. You don’t have the opportunity to protest before he gathers you from off the countertop and twists you around towards your reflection. He gingerly presses his touch into the protruding shape of your shoulder blade, lightly ushering you to lean over the slab of the counter. You surrender to Jake’s decree, not willing to risk your orgasm.

Jake finds your fucked out gaze through the mirror and faintly adjures, “I want you to watch as I fuck you.”

You know better than to mistake his lowly tone for submission. You lean your weight on your elbows as you settle against the sink and raise your head to take in every detail as Jake begins fuck into you from behind.

His pace starts off moderate, but every stroke pierces deep. Your eyes are spellbound by the vision of his pelvic bone slamming into your ass with every harsh swing of his hips.

You do your best to keep your eyes visible as his rhythm picks up, but inevitably your head hangs limp, dizzy from your approaching high. You resign from your efforts once he begins to rock into you faster, burying himself further in your cunt.

You are compensated by a half-lidded Jake forcing your head back up by your chin, “Nah-uh. Look at me, baby.”

You manage to anchor your head where Jake repositioned it, but you are helpless to the way your eyes roll back as he swivels his hips rutting into that sweet spot. Jake grants you exoneration as your walls tighten around his twitching cock, indicating you are close.

Your every muscle trembles as you are abraded by your final orgasm. You're too far gone in your trance. You babble a gibbered language of swears and crying moans as you give into the chemical release.

“Just one more for me, babygirl, you can take it,” he hushes you.

You are strung back from your trip by the stutter of Jake’s hips and hiccuping moans. He is close. You see him tire as he curls around you, his panting grunts tickling your skin.

“Come on, baby,” you root for him despite your own overstimulation, “fuck me full. Want it so bad.”

You are captivated by the reflection of his features contorting under bliss as he fights to keep his hips in motion. You roll your hips to follow Jake’s strokes as his high suspends his stamina.

His eyes roll back as he begins to convulse, his dick jerking inside you. He releases, his lewd moan of absolute venery graces your ears as he empties himself inside you, coating your pulsing walls.

Jake goes limp, briefly taking refuge against your backside as he catches his breath and you come down from your highs together. He lazily litters your skin with kisses wherever his lips can reach.

He sighs against your spine, “Fuck- you’re magnificent. Absolutely electric.”

He wills himself to stand vertical, tugging his pants back in place over his hips before he eases you upright. Assisting you with his steady grip on your pelvis, the steamy skin of his lithe chest sticks to your backside. He wraps an arm around your waist to hold you steady as your knees buckle upon landing, pulling you into him once more. He bows his head to warrant his lips to lathe your neck, savoring the salt of your skin.

Far too consumed to break away from his sloppy kisses, he tilts his head as his eyes hunt for the reflection of yours, “But I meant what I said earlier, we’re no good for each other.”

He nibbles his way up and sucks at the muscle of your jaw, “I like you way more than I planned to but there’s no way we can continue like this, babygirl.”

You go numb; the only sensation present being pins and needles pricking your chest. His words spell you dumb, abolishing any sense to speak or move.

He delicately spins you to face him once again and tenderly kisses the tip of your nose.

Jakes slightly pulls back to skillfully tie your blouse back up for you, “Whatever this is, it's got to settle here.”

“Jake- you-,” you breathlessly chase for the tail of your thought that doesn’t seem to exist.

He squeezes your hands in his, “I mean it, kitten, don’t call me anymore. I won’t pick up for you.”

The tender manner in which his lips love on you does not mesh with his condemning words.

He draws back to see tears you aren’t aware are now rolling down your flushed cheeks.

He lets go of one of your hands to cup your jaw and kisses the salty sadness from your features, “Don’t cry, baby, you’re perfect.”

He envelopes your lips between his one last time before he brings your hand still in his grasp to place his pucker against your knuckles and whisper, “Please take care of yourself for me, babygirl.”

You are prisoner to paralyzation as those enticing amber eyes abandon you; rendering you to nothing but shattered forsaken ruins strewn across an empty bathroom, grasping and grappling to purchase any sort of rationale beyond the carnage.

You’re forced to silently choke on consternation at the sight of his chestnut waves bouncing against his shoulders as Jake weightlessly vanishes through the swinging door.

pretty please let me know what you think🫶🏼

taglist - @alwaysonthemend @becinabubblegvf @carbondancingthroughtime @edgingthedarkness @fleet-of-fiction @gretasfallingsky @gretasmokerising @gvf23 @heckingfrick @hsfallingsky @imleavingyoufornewyork @kiszkazz @klarxtr @itsafullmoon @jakesguitarsolo @jakesmustache @livkiszka @sacredjake @sparrowofthedawnsworld @takenbythemadness @thewritingbeforesunrise @tripthelightfatality @vanfleeter @wetkleenex-gvf @zoe-tally06

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list and know y’all have already made this so rewarding❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

[noxturnalpascal]

Daddy x The Babysitter

Last month I came up with an idea for a story prompt to get the writing juices flowing and several people joined in and wrote with this idea. I wanted to share all the participants linked in one place 💜.

PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak). PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW) 

webcam for beginners

by @iamasaddie

room 301

by @milla-frenchy

birthday surprise

by @aurorawritestoescape

Dancing is a Dangerous Game

by (me) @noxturnalpascal

[milogoestogreendale]

trobed fic recs?

i take my job as an armchair tumblr connoiseur of trobed content way too seriously so here's my giant masterlist of all my favorite trobed fanfics. i didn't cross check this with any previous lists so there may be some overlap but this one is more extensive and will include some older fics. also if it's not listed here that doesn't mean i don't love it, these are just the ones i specifically remembered to write about. please send the authors some love if you have the time to check their works out!

also i did go through all 87 pages of content on the troy barnes/abed nadir tag in order to find some of these. no, i haven't read them all, but i have read most of them.

fitter, happier, more productive by Toft: i've reread this fic so many times and i regularly forget it's over a decade old. if you haven't read any older trobed fics you are absolutely missing out

Advanced Cohert Dating by Aria: classic trobed fic, so cute and in character

Beginner's Relationship Detecting by KlavierWrites: in quite a similar vein to the last one, but i like both!

Fundamentals of Self-Awareness by Rainbowcat: a great lighthearted read, it's one of the most popular trobed fics for a reason.

Homosexuality and Homosociality in Queer Cinema by ama: this might be the first trobed fic i ever read? still so good and a must read for any gay troy barnes truthers

Annie, Abed and the Long Con by callmealvinandthechipmunks: know i've talked about this one before but it's just so great. the shrack plotline is genuinely one of the most canon things i've ever seen written for greendale

Introduction to Unconscious Bias by theimprobable1: i'm a sucker for the trope of troy thinking hes homophobic when he's actually just gay for abed

cardiovascular endurance and the art of recovery by clonetrobed: you guys know i love my abed h/c especially when it's to do with abed's bullying.

His Innermost Thoughts by LeetSpeak: my favorite trobed high school au, definitely inspired me while i was writing mine!

My Angel by orphan_account: trobed ghost fic that did make me genuinely sob

never could be sweeter by clonetrobed: this fic is just straight up a work of art.

Advanced Emotional Reconciliation and Anti-Clone Catharsis by Luuuna03: been a minute since i read this one but it's a great multi chapter reunion fic!

Fits Like A Glove by human_tennis_elbow: super cute trobed proposal!!

just you and i tonight (why don't you figure my heart out?) by r3medialcha8s: the day r3medialcha8s starting posting on a03... you just had to be there. their impact

the things we don't write in our autobiographies by fffggghhh: similarly to prev, the fic that put user troybarnesbabygirlconfirmed on my roster. god bless my insanely talented mutuals

Assignment Extension Rejected by ChrisSucks: speaking of talented mutuals this fic is criminally underrated

when it comes to a lot of the authors on this list i could put like every single fic they've have ever written, and there's so much i didn't get to, but this post took me ages so im gonna call it done.

[thevirginwitch]

Paper Poppet Spell for Luck & Success

If you want to support me and my blog, be sure to check out my Patreon for as little as $2 a month! You'll gain early access to all my posts, exclusive content, digital freebies, discount codes to my Etsy store, and tons of updates on what I'm working on! Did I mention you'll also gain voting power on research topics and future posts?

Poppets are a very popular way of typically conducting baneful magic �� however, in this spell, the poppet will be representing yourself, and you will be performing sympathetic magic to increase your success and luck! This spell is to help aid you in achieving goals and success in any endeavors you may be attempting right now. I recommend carrying out this spell during a full moon, and/or on a Sunday. Of course, feel free to tweak this spell and its components as needed to better suit your needs/practice! This spell is a great beginner spell for sympathetic magic, and you can use this as a template if you wish to create any other poppet spells in the future.

Materials:

Wax warmer along with wax (in the color of your choice), or a candle (in the color of your choice) with a way to collect/use the melted wax. I personally used a mix of green and gold wax, as those colors typically represent abundance.

2 sheets of origami paper, 20cm x 20cm (if you only have typical printer paper, you can use scissors to cut to the correct size!)

Taglock – a piece of your hair, nail clipping, etc. You could also write your name on the poppet! (optional)

Art supplies - paint, colored pencils, markers, etc. Anything you feel comfortable using. (optional)

Mint

Chamomile

Star tarot card (optional)

Citrine

Water

Instructions:

Prepare your workspace and yourself for spellwork however you typically would. I personally like to smoke cleanse with incense, clear off my work area, and work through a guided meditation for focus. I also tend to light a candle or two that corresponds with what type of magic I’m trying to perform. During this step, be sure to turn on your wax warmer or light the candle you’ll be using for the spell.

Create your paper poppet using origami - you can follow this tutorial: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KDkxJi4kGz4. When folding your poppet, imagine you are pouring yourself into the folds of the poppet - your personality, your likeness, your life story, etc. Take some time to sprinkle each of the herbs (mint and chamomile) into some of the folds of your poppet as well - this step will help you “fold” success into yourself (your poppet). Instead of origami, you may also choose to instead cut out a human shape out of your paper - this is a great option if you are short on time, or have mobility/joint issues!

Once your paper poppet is complete, you may decorate it however you see fit - or choose to leave it plain. You may also choose to write words corresponding to your goals. For example: “new job”, “wealth”, “happy love life”, etc. Get creative with it - this poppet is supposed to represent you, after all! You may also add your taglock to the poppet during this step.

By now, your wax should be ready. Take your poppet and carefully dip each foot, hand, and the head into the wax. (Please be EXTREMELY careful if you are using a candle as a method for obtaining wax. And remember, wax is VERY hot!) As you dip each body part, feel free to recite the following (or come up with your own):

Submerge these hands in abundance; these feet in opportunity; And this head in gratitude for what’s to come.

Before the wax dries, sprinkle a bit more herbs on the wet wax to further “glue” success to yourself (your poppet). Be sure to hold onto your poppet as the wax dries before moving onto the next steps; taking care not to touch the wax as it dries.

Once the wax is nice and solid, set your poppet down on your Star tarot card (optional) and add your citrine and herbs to a bowl of water. Dip your fingertips in the bowl, and anoint your poppet with a bit of water. Be careful not to completely get it wet, as the poppet will obviously begin to fall apart - the goal is to just give it a light misting/sprinkle of water.

Finally, the ritual is complete! You may feel the urge to hold onto the poppet until your success is evident. Stash it on your windowsill or somewhere that sees a lot of foot traffic or sunlight – perhaps on your mantle or by your front door. If you’re in the broom closet, you could stash it in your daily bag/purse or wallet. Once you feel you’ve achieved the success you expected, you may dispose of the poppet in the garbage.

[coinandcandle]

Toss a Coin to Your...Coin?

Howdy! You know me as Coin from coinandcandle, but what you might not know is that I'm a college student in his mid-twenties who works part-time at a library and as a DJ assistant.

I spend a lot of time and energy putting together my informational posts and resources for folks to use. None of this involves my day job nor my major in school--I do it because I love researching and I remember when I started out it was so hard to find beginner-friendly easily-understandable posts about topics other than the basics.

This means I'm spending my personal free time researching, writing, and curating the content to make it easily digestible.

In our capitalistic hellscape, "time is money" which is unfortunately true. You've probably seen a reduction in content due to my having to work overtime to support myself.

So, if you like my content and would like to support me, please consider leaving me a tip, or sharing my ko-fi page (where you get access to things like early access content, exclusive content, and more).

On ko-fi you can tip me as little or as much as you like, anything helps and everything is appreciated. You can also become a monthly supporter and gain access to even more content!

You can also check out my ko-fi shop where I sell deity deep dive requests, custom sigil commissions, and cartomancy readings.

That said, if you don't have the money please don't feel pressured, you need to take care of yourself first. Please consider reblogging this post instead <:

BUT if you have a little extra money and would like to help support your local witchy researcher, maybe toss a coin to your friendly Coinandcandle. ;D

[caw4brandon]

How AI Kills Creatives

Human beings love to express themselves in many unique ways. From dance, to singing, to creative writing and of course, by art. Artists wrestle everyday to stay relevant to the masses while doing their favorite hobbies to earn a living.

This however may become null and void as the art community is facing another difficult challenge that could put them into jeopardy. The answer as to what can pose a danger to our beloved creative types is the hot topic for this Wednesday's piece. Let's discuss the complex situation of AI Art.

- Being a Creative Online -

For as long as I can remember, Creative work is either something industrial for advertisements or for entertainment, like comic books or animated shows. Often times, it involves expressive and also very dead people of influence like [Van Gogh], [Picasso] and [Da Vinci]

This however changed when the world was introduced to the internet. Allowing creative work to be presented to the masses, pass the borders and beyond. A timeless time capsule of creativity that can reach places traditional methods failed to do at rapid speeds.

Places like [Artstation], [DeviantArt], [Behance] and [Pixvi] are some of the most popular websites where aspiring artists can produce and express their craft to be shared and may potentially, give them the confidence to do commissions. These sites laid out a platform that can attract beginners and professionals alike for a chance to find an audience and develop themselves. This however, doesn’t mean an easy climb.

Creators need to combat against the algorithm and the occasional critics of these respective sites to be recognized. Creators need to claw their way out of the crowds to be graced by algorithm which means, they probably need to churn out backlogs of content to be seen and favored.

- Rise of The AIs -

A few years ago, I stumbled across a program called [Artbreeder]

Its a free to use program that allows you to create close to realistic portraits or stylized artworks by using a base picture and some photo manipulation for the desired effect. 

I myself have also used Artbreeder to create a version of my character; Sadie mac Lir based on the game version of her in HPHM.

Around that time, there was also the discovery of the mix and match dress up site by the name of [Picrew] which I too have used on more than one occasion. As time went on, better and smarter programs start appearing. Thus, allowing the masses to create scuffed or impressive images of whatever they so wish. From OCs to potential future babies to fiction turned real characters. 

At frightening speeds, AI programs created by intelligent software and application builders have grown to observe and steal from artists in various parts of the world to produce excellent works of art within seconds. Thus, threatening the very livelihoods of those who produce art as a job.

Enter the most controversial AI Art program [Lensa AI by Prisma Labs] Who is accused by multiple professional artists for committing art theft. Using the styles, compositions and signatures of said artists to reproduce works under the program's watermark.

- This is Art Theft! -

First, let's make a few things clear. I am not an expert to the subject of AI Art Theft but I highly recommend reading these few posts by better experts who can explain things better than me.

You can read [Megrae's Post] and [Jonlamart's Post] to gain a better understanding of the situation. From here on out however, I will be using my own words to breakdown how this can potentially kill the Creative community at large in the long run. Including us little guys.

To loosely summarize, the application takes a massive data collection of posts created by professional artists to be learned and recreated. Infamously, the application uses works of art by the late [Kim Jung Gi US] and others without the respective artist's permission to gain traffic and profit.

The disturbing factor in question, is that the developers of Lensa AI created this application with data that is NOT CONSENTED for such use. The program blatantly steals the artistic skills and styles of the Creative, allowing instant results via prompts which puts Creatives into obscurity. And, this is just the beginning.

Heaven knows, if the big guys in this industry are not safe from this AI. The time will come, where even small time artists will suffer such a fate.

Worst still, it places the general world view that the art community is an irrelevant industry. It takes away the trouble and cost of doing commissions and requests be a lot more to the AI's favor.

Looking into it further, a video essay by [Ana Isabel] (Which I highly recommend you watch as well) showed several other AI programs that has gotten better into writing articles via processing a database of samples and a few keywords. Thus, removing the need for a creative writer. (Like I am right now) 

What we are looking at right now is, for the first time in history. We are at odds of replacing Creatives from job opportunities. With these programs available, the phrase "Any Tom, Dick and Harry can do it" has gotten too close for comfort.

- Arguments Against AI Art -

Of course, the application can't work without us Creatives feeding the program samples and data. In some way, it still requires some form of human creativity to feed it data and develop and it also requires a little bit of luck to trigger the right prompt.

As stated in Ana Isabel’s video, some artists welcome the AI as an additional tool to help lay some groundwork for the artist to improve and build upon. Which creates a new label; [CyberArtist] or Cyborg Artist. 

Their argument is that the AI can be a helpful tool to conceptualize ideas as a first draft in productions or help with small time gigs such as promotional art or E-flyers. These Cyborg Artists also pointed out that AI Art will set a unique benchmark for what “good art” actually is, focusing more on the concept/ prompt than the process of creation.

Tempting as it may to say the world cares more about the idea than the craft. This is still detrimental to small timers or freelancers who want to pursue art as a profession with their own new ideas. It can discourage new and rising artists from chasing their ventures as they will be aware of the competition upon them.  

The comment; “it won't happen because, MY art is not that great" is not the point. If I were to guess. The AI will absorb any artwork that emits a large following and activity as food for the AI to feed and replicate which might even include doodles if left unchecked.

Although, not all hope is lost. As with these new improvements arise new problems. For that, new laws and new policies are being made to combat this troubling issue. Though not effective, it does raise the awareness. What is very important is that the general public must be made aware of such an issue. The world still looks down on Creatives, and sees their work as still "just a hobby" which is why this awareness needs to be raised and why we need to prove we are better.

On a hopeful note, AI is but an imitation of what is considered as great art but the one thing it can't ever do is produce Personal Art. It can't emote the hard hours spent, the process of improvement, the personalized charm, and the very heart that the artist cares about the audience.

That is something the AI CAN’T ever do. Its easy to feel fear knowing that the days as a Creative is numbered now that everyone can have access to such a program and to some, it may even be disheartening. But be aware that the True Value of an artist is the heart they have to share their craft. To show the imperfections and to do so anyway because they believe it inspires people. That is perhaps, what AI Art can’t ever kill.

To give because they enjoy the fun of it.

Thanks for reading

- Caw4B -

[dennissima]

How I learn writing in English (even if I'm not native)

After years spent ineffectively studying English, until last September I was only able to read, listen and understand. But then I felt the urge to be fluent and confident in speaking and writing (cheers Good Omens, Neil Gaiman, Michael Sheen and David Tennant job!) During the last eight months, I improved a lot. How? Forgetting fears about mistakes and just keep talking and writing (this is a reminder for me, sorry).

Well, maybe speaking is easier because the words fly away and are forgettable. Written words stay to immortal shame. But, to be honest, I don't give a fork. I claim the right to be wrong and learn from my mistakes.

So, here we are.

Table of Content

(chronological order)

It's like a ballet - Tumblr AO3

Very closed - Tumblr AO3

Spread wings - Tumblr AO3

Scent of Angel - Tumblr AO3 (WIP)

Alpha Centauri can wait - AO3 EXPLICIT (WIP)

Coming soon

Good Omens FF prompt: College AU - Blind Date- "You're not as subtle as you think you are."

Good Omens FF prompt: Royalty AU - semi-public sex - "You're doing so good for me." EXP

Good Omens FF prompt: Aziraphale tease Crowley all day long but the demon can stop time and people around them, right? EXP

Good Omens FF prompt: After a long holiday on Alpha Centauri, Aziraphale and Crowley come back to London in female appearance, pretending to be their daughters.

These are the plans and my place to feed my motivation to keep learning how to write writing in a language in which I'm not native.

I need a plan, to remember what I already did and what I have to do in the future, on this creative path.

Also, an index of my stories. Fanfiction. About Good Omens. Sometimes smut. And I'm an absolute beginner in writing:

English

fanfiction

smut

Thanks a bunch for your support. Just reading it's a great encouragement. Let alone leaving comments, suggestions and advice.

One day I'll write something really good and will be thanks to you who are reading now, as well.

Thanks for your time. See ya at the next update.

[elysianeclipxe]

Sorry, but chan with kids is just ncjbufanob MY HEART

Okay, so I was listening to something a while back and instantly came up with the idea of chan reading to kids and just being the cutest with them. Maybe him being a volunteer at a daycare or something. Y’all remember that episode of inside seventeen about the 2021 online concert they did, right? That doremi concept with the mini doremiz. I have been watching that on repeat

Brainrot #1 - chan is great with kids

Just imagine this, you and your boyfriend chan walk into the daycare centre ready to apply because it’s a quick side job to do after college classes plus the payment isn’t too bad. While you’re signing some documents or your length contract as a volunteer you lean your head to peek at the children in the other room, but you just instantly see HIM. So fucking cute omg. Him just playing along to some kids magic trick and genuinely looking amazed by the beginner magic. I’ll just say it now but all of the kids love him, like his name is called every 5 seconds by another kid wanting him to play with them. You’re both accepted as the new volunteers and told to either observe or learn hands on how to take care of the children for the day since y’all start next week. You decide to just observe and obviously chan is doing it hands on. A couple of the children approach you and sit around you asking you all these questions. You just get so consumed conversing with the little ones that you forget to check how he’s doing with the other kids.

You look over at him and find him already looking at you. HIM LOOKING AT YOU WITH SO MUCH LOVE IN HIS EYES. So you blush and send a wave over to which he grins in response. ANYWAY, he hangs around with the kids even more and even dances with them when they want to. He looks so hyped, damn cute just vibing with them kids. He honestly is just a bigger version of a child, he’s adorable. They’re hyper, he’s hyper, at that point all the older workers are just chuckling at how well he gets along with the children even if it’s his first time meeting them. When did you get such a cute boyfriend? This job should have contained a warning that if you apply with your significant other and watch them with kids it might just be too sweet for your heart to handle!!!!

I haven’t even gotten to my favourite part which is… READING TIME!!!!!! THIS IS WHAT I THOUGHT OF SO SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME RANT ABOUT IT!!! It’s nearing the evening and he decides that it’s time for reading time so when the children’s parents pick them up they’ll be tired and sleep quicker. He gathers all the children by the reading corner and picks out a classic storybook and reads it to the kids. He makes sure to add emotion into his voice and emphasise on the scary/sad parts. The type to make sound effects, like if he were reading The Three Little Pigs then he’d probably go, “so he Huffed, and Puffed, and BLEW THE HOUSE DOWN” whilst making a loud blowing sound that has the children whining on how the big bad wolf blew another house down. He made sure to interact with the little ones as he read the story, it’s like a cute interactive experience for them. The children are pretty sleepy after chan finishes his story, right on time for the parents to pick up their children. You both walk home and he totally goes on about how fun today was and how he can’t wait till next week… He’s especially excited to see how you deal with the kids, since maybe it’ll come in handy for you both in the future hehe

can y'all guess who my bias is? it's dino, duh. also yes, i am a carat and yes, i do write for kpop groups as well.. but only the ones i stan since i'm familiar with them. i hope this turned out well but tbh this is more for me to openly simp over HIM. also i feel like i should write something like this for the other doremi members... it's only fair, right <33

© elysianeclipxe. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my content onto other platforms.

[languagedaemon]

Comprehensible Input: introduction

In the midst of the pandemic, in 2020, I had a trial class with a new student, James. In the interview he told me that he didn’t want to study grammar or do homework, nor any exercises. Since he was a total beginner, I thought it was quite difficult what he was asking me to do, and that he would make minimal progress. He gave me a link to a video explaining the method he wanted to use in our classes. A bit skeptical, I watched it. We had not seen this theory in the teacher’s training. It was my first contact with the natural approach, or comprehensible-input, or input-based learning.

Before that, my teaching had been based on grammar and communication tasks. I used a textbook (Dicho y hecho, from UNAM), a grammar website (Lingolia), tried to follow a clear progression in topics, and saw in-class conversation only as practice or even a break. After watching James’ video, I understood that the natural approach had been the way I, and so many people of my generation, learned English: through movies, series, music, video games, websites, just interacting with the language, trying to decipher it, to go through it to get to the information we were interested in. I spent my life receiving messages in English without trying to produce them, but little by little my oral and written expression improved, effortlessly. The comprehensible input hypothesis, pioneered by Stephen Krashen, explained why. It was a total change of perspective.

In brief, what the input hypothesis proposes, in a microscopic vision, is that the only true moment of learning is when the student receives a message (encoded) and understands it (decodes it), that it is only through this process of reception that the structures and contents of the target language are assimilated, take shape in the student’s mind, and gradually become resources available for production. Thus, it is not advisable to study grammar or do exercises, but rather to focus on “passive” tasks such as reading and listening, trusting that speaking and writing will be the consequences of this.

Therefore, a study program based on comprehensible input would replace textbooks with novels, grammar charts with magazine articles, drills with real conversations, the need to memorize the basics with a dive into the language, jumping into the pool without knowing how to swim. It is, in a sense, a method without a method, a Zen method, learning the language by interacting with it, as if you already knew it, a kind of learning by doing, learning on the job. Of course, trying to mark a trajectory that goes from the simplest content (books for babies and children, for example) to the most complex.

In my experience, viewing language learning in this way generates a less stressful, less forceful study, and more fun and interesting. Personally, I think a little grammar can be useful at different times, but I generally subscribe to the ideas of Stephen Krashen and company. In the following weeks we will look at the basics of the input hypothesis in detail.

[bettsfic]

craft essay a day #6

a good craft essay is hard to find.

(this one is less a summary as it is me using the essay as an example of a specific craft term i like to teach.)

"The King of the Birds" by Flannery O'Connor, Mystery and Manners

beginner | intermediate | advanced | masterclass 

filed under: cnf, prompts, objective correlative/magical objects

content warning for discussions of cancer, death, and abuse.

summary & my thoughts

this one is not actually a craft essay, but i didn't know that until i read it, and it's in a craft book, and i've got some Thoughts, so here we go.

Mystery and Manners is Flannery O'Connor's book of collected essays and lectures. i've taught some of these essays in intro to cw, not because i agree with them, but because i disagree with them, and generally like students to disagree with them also, to introduce what it means to have a dialogue with what you're reading. to be an active participant in what you're reading and not a passive recipient of it.

don't get me wrong; i love Flannery O'Connor. my thesis was largely inspired by her. her short stories are some of my favorites ever written. but, uh. she's got some bad writing opinions. generally speaking, the better the writer, the worse the teacher, and vice versa. O'Connor is a great writer and iirc was never really a teacher, only a guest speaker/visiting writer, and so we cannot really judge her on the sanctity of her pedagogy. no matter how infuriating i sometimes find it, i do try to listen to bad writing opinions, because they better inform my own (awesome and totally correct) opinions. hence the point of teaching O'Connor's essays.

this book starts off with a relatively dry foreword in which the editors admit they had a heck of a time putting the thing together. a very similar foreword exists in O'Connor's complete story collection. apparently, O'Connor had hundreds of manuscripts of essays and lectures, many with overlapping content, and so the editors had to face whether they wanted to publish all of the content, redundancies included, or none of it.

they decided, thankfully and with the permission of the estate, to do some cutting and pasting to pare out the redundant information and still try to get a complete recording of O'Connor's essays.

the first essay is not about writing. it's about peacocks.

"The peacock I had bought had nothing whatsoever in the way of a tail, but he carried himself as if he not only had a train behind him but a retinue to attend it."

because this is not a craft essay, i'm going to use it as an example of a craft concept: the objective correlative.

The objective correlative was coined by T.S. Eliot in 1919. He defined it as "a set of objects, a situation, a chain of events which shall be the formula of that particular emotion." this concept is more relevant to poetry, and more of an analytical tool than a craft tool, and honestly i probably take the term too literally for what it actually is (and potentially flatten it in the process [sorry, poets]), but i use it as a prompt in a lesson plan i call "magical objects."

for this class, i host show & tell. yes, show & tell, from kindergarten. one thing i've learned about teaching college is that college students--being overworked, underpaid, and blasted with constant brain-changing information--generally love elementary school activities. they also love talking about themselves, which is great considering i am a better listener than i am a speaker.

so i have everyone bring in an object that holds meaning for them, and we go around the room and talk about what the thing is, how it was acquired, its history and why it's important to them. (i also bring something, usually my dad's briefcase, and tell the story of how my dad taught me how to nail job interviews because he himself had so many of them, and quit the jobs almost as soon as he got them.)

my favorite thing is when students forget to bring something, and they have to take a turn anyway, at which point they pull out a highlighter or their shoe or something and have to wing a response. (and they get credit for it, because they're still being creative thinking things up on the fly, and being creative is the point of the class.)

the second half of the class is freewriting time. i ask them to write their magical object as an objective correlative. the goal is to tell the story of the object to invoke a particular emotion. for example, the story of my dad's briefcase, for me, invokes an emotion i can't otherwise define: the bizarre grief-regret-empathy-anger of losing someone close to you, who treated you poorly and neglected your needs and whom you loved anyway, and miss.

a simpler example is bringing in an old video game, and conjuring childhood nostalgia. or a piece of jewelry your partner bought you on your anniversary, and conjuring love.

students are often confused by this. i tell them not to think too hard about it. write about the object and the emotion will naturally come with it, because the object itself holds meaning. describe what the object looks like, how you acquired it, and memories that involve it. for example, i have a memory of being maybe four or five, and i was playing with the combination locking mechanism on my dad's briefcase, and he went, "what are you doing? i don't know the combination! i'll never be able to open it again!"

naturally i burst into tears. my dad laughed, and apologized, and told me he was just kidding. the combination was 000 because he hadn't changed it from when he bought it and didn't know how.

when i took the briefcase after he died, it had in it old road maps, a clipboard with a legal pad on it and a coffee stain on the legal pad, a union dues register, and some kind of millwright apprenticeship licensure.

it's worth noting that working at a steel mill in the 70s is what gave him cancer 35 years later.

i've spent hours inspecting the road maps. he had routes highlighted all through ohio, indiana, and kentucky. after being a millwright, he was a salesman, and he sold truck beds, apparently driving all over to do so. he was a great salesman but a bad employee. he couldn't stand having a boss, and tended to quit jobs the second anyone tried to tell him what to do. this trait always annoyed me--why couldn't he just buckle down and deal with it, so we could eat more than campbell's soup and toast? and yet, here i am twenty years later in the exact same boat, genetically predisposed to finding authority of any kind unbearable, quitting everything because of it, and wondering how the hell i'm going to keep making enough money to live. i wish i could say i have new sympathy for him, but i don't. it's a trait i hated in him; it's a trait i hate in me. it's something i had to accept then, and continue having to accept now.

that was one objective correlative. now back to the other: peacocks.

i felt this essay was a great example of the objective correlative because as i was reading it, i had absolutely no idea why it existed or what i was supposed to get out of it. it's written factually, in some parts like a research paper, describing the behavior and needs of peacocks, but the only evidence or citation is O'Connor's personal experience.

and yet, i was still feeling something as i was reading it. some undercurrent that elevated it from "Flannery O'Connor talking about peacocks" to an essay, a creative work with artistic merit.

"Those [peacocks] that withstand illnesses and predators (the hawk, the fox, and the opossum) over the winter seem impossible to destroy, except by violence."

what i get out of this essay, given the context of its placement in a book on the craft of writing, is another example of the obsessive tendencies of writers. i'm reminded of a lecture i attended during which Jamaica Kincaid spoke for an hour in intimate detail about her garden. she showed us pictures and went over each individual plant. i enjoyed it, even though it took me a while to figure out what she was saying.

that too was an objective correlative. what she was trying to invoke, and which she made clear at the end, is that a writer cannot only write. a writer must have something to write about. and so a writer must be obsessive, and love something so much they can speak to it in myopic detail. an object of fixation, a magical object, must always anchor the work.

craft essay a day tag | cross-posted on AO3 | ask me something

[landgraabbed]

hi! i was wondering if you had game recs for someone that has only played sims and stardew on pc! im the person and i want to start playing more stuff but i dont want to start with something too difficult i hope that makes sense 🐣 thank you and i hope you enjoy your weekend

hi nonners!! sure thing! a huge chunk of my childhood gaming was harvest moon and sims so let's see! my gaming tastes are very unified yet all over the place so don't take this as gospel and something you will For Sure enjoy! feel free to follow up if any game/genre piques your interest!

if you never did so, i would recommend giving the sims handheld games (namely, sims bustin' out, urbz, and sims 2 on the gba/ds). they're still in the universe of the sims so you take care of your lil sim/urb but they're adventure games where you're given tasks and progress through the story. the writing is silly but good, and the characters are fun, though the games may feel grindy at times. feel free to hit me up if you'd like, i can hook you up with them!

in the farming sim/resource manager sim, i can recommend you the harvest moon games, now story of seasons. story of seasons: a wonderful life just came out on the switch, and i think other platforms, and it is a remake of the iconic a wonderful life. just keep in mind that it might feel like a step down from just how much content is in stardew valley! there's also the rune factory series, my time at portia (and the upcoming my time at sandrock), ooblets, graveyard keeper, calico, and animal crossing. oh!! and kynseed. kynseed is lovely and it looks gorgeous and it is a life sim where you play as successive generations, with lots of fae elements. it can get a bit grindy but i've greatly enjoyed my time with it.

(and i just started wylde flowers since i got it on sale this week, and i've been really enjoyed it so far, but can't provide a full recommendation since i've had so little time with it)

if you enjoy the decorating part of the sims, i can recommend you the tenants. it's a game where you play as a landlord, decorate houses, find renters, and most importantly do renovation jobs for clients.

if you're in the mood for something sandbox-y, other than animal crossing i think that no man's sky could scratch that itch (you can fully customize options such as resource availability, combat difficulty, etc) and, of course the legend of zelda breath of the wild (and i can only assume tears of the kingdom, but i haven't started that one yet)

if you're wanting to dip your toes into different genres, such as rpgs, i can recommend you the elder scrolls series (especially skyrim is more streamlined and thus, more beginner friendly) and dragon age. both series have difficulty settings you can change as you feel more or less comfortable. if you're interested in party-based, turn-based rpgs, you can't go wrong with the final fantasy series, golden sun, and octopath traveler (which is a recent favorite that i wholeheartedly love, with the caveat that if someone is looking for a large, overarching story it is not the game that will provide that)

edit to add story-based games. there are many but i won't cite what maybe most people would recommend bc i either haven't played it or dislike it. i really enjoyed oxenfree, not tonight, road 96, and most importantly of all, kentucky route zero. my sibling adores the dreamfall chapters series and i really enjoy watching them play it! and my wife (a much more casual player than me but whom i love watching play and has great taste) loved playing strange horticulture, the sexy brutale, eastshade, and coffee talk (episodes 1 and 2)

please keep in mind there's some overlap between categories! and i think that most games will be approachable to beginners. nobody was born knowing how to play games and i find that most games do a good job of bringing players up to speed.

sorry for the long reply!! gaming is just a bit of a big interest for me since it's my preferred medium and i'm a rambler haha. as i said, feel free to hmu again on or off anon!! and hope u too are having a great weekend