#18 Types 18 Generations

[thornthisway]

Pokèmon: 18 Types, 18 ways!

A Sims 4 CAS and Legacy Challenge by ThornThisWay!

Rules & Summary:

Each legacy is based on a different Pokèmon type. Players may choose 1 Pokèmon of that type and create a Sim gijinka based on it as the legacy founder. You may give that PokèSim any traits that you think matches the Pokèmon it is based on. The next gen however must be based on a different Pokèmon of a different type.

This challenge is based on creativity, collecting, aspiration completion, skill learning, exploring each world & most of all storytelling! The main aspiration to complete is The Curator! Gotta collect 'em all!

You may not use cheats to gain money, skill mastering, complete any aspirations, etc! The only cheat you may use is FreeRealEstate for the very first house for the very first gen but you may not use it for the rest of the challenge.

This challenge requires a lot of DLC packs but mainly ones that contain worlds as each generation will move to a different world once the aspiration(s) of that generation is completed! The challenge is finished once The Curator is finished in Gen 18. Challenge Generation notes are under the cut!

Gen 1: Normal Type

World - Willow Creek Job - Freelancing artist or Painter Skills to work on - Painting, Cooking, Handiness Lot Challenge - None Aspiration: Painter Extraordinaire

Gen 2: Fighting Type

World - Oasis Springs or Newcrest Job - Athlete or Military Skills to work on - Athletics, Charisma Lot Challenge - None Aspiration: BodyBuilder

Gen 3: Flying Type

World - Windenburg Job - Culinary or Doctor Skills to work on - Cooking, Baking, Logic Lot Challenge - None Aspiration: Leader of the Pack & Nerd Brain

Gen 4: Poison Type

World - Strangerville Job - Scientist Skills to work on - Logic, Research & Debate Lot Challenge - Filthy Aspiration: Strangerville Mystery

Gen 5: Ground Type

World - Henford on Bagley Job - Farm (Self-Employed) Skills to work on - Gardening, Knitting, Cross-Stitching Lot Challenge - Off-The-Grid & Simple Living Aspiration: Country Caretaker & Lady/Lord of the Knits

Gen 6: Rock Type

World - Del Sol Valley + Salvadorada (vacation) Job - Part-Time Skills to work on - Athletics, Logic & Archaeology Lot Challenge - None Aspiration: Jungle Explorer & Archaeology Scholar

Gen 7: Bug Type

World - Granite Falls (Vacation) Job - Part-Time Skills to work on - Herbalism, Gardening Lot Challenge - Creepy Crawlies Aspiration: Freelance Botanist & Outdoor Enthusiast

Gen 8: Ghost Type

World - Forgotten Hollow Job - Part-Time Skills to work on - Vampire lore, Organ Lot Challenge - Spooky Aspiration: Master Vampire & Good Vampire

Gen 9: Steel Type

World - San Myshuno Job - Politician Skills to work on - Logic, Handiness, Charisma Lot Challenge - None Aspiration: City Native & Change the World

Gen 10: Fire Type

World - Chestnut Ridge Job - Part-Time Lot Challenge - Wild Grass Skills to work on - Horse Riding, Nectar Making Note: Must own a horse (Ponyta/Rapidash line based) Aspiration: Championchip Rider & Expert Nectar Maker

Gen 11: Water Type

World - Sulani Job - Conservationist Lot Challenge - Volcanic Skills to work on - Athletics, Fishing, Logic Aspiration: Beach Life & Angling Ace

Gen 12: Grass Type

World - Evergreen Harbor Job - Civil Designer Lot Challenge - Reduce & Recycle Skills to work on - Gardening, Fabrication Aspiration: Master Maker & Eco Innovator

Gen 13: Electric Type

World - Brindleton Bay Job - Veterinarian Lot Challenge - None Skills to work on - Veterinarian & Parenting Aspiration: Friend of Animals & Super Parent

Gen 14: Psychic Type

World - Copperdale Job - Paranormal Investigator (After level 5 medium) Skills to work on - Medium, Writing, Wellness Lot Challenge - Haunted House + Spooky Aspiration: Best Selling Author & Zen Guru

Gen 15: Ice Type

World - Mt. Komorebi Job - Part-Time Lot Challenge - None Skills to work on - Mountain Climbing, Athletics, Skiing, Snowboarding Aspiration: Mt. Komorebi Sightseer

Gen 16: Dragon Type

World - Britechester Jobs - College Challenge - Must go to Britechester University & stay at Wyvern Dorm Lot Challenge - None Skills to work on - Logic, Charisma, Debate & Research Aspiration: Academic & Seeker of Secrets

Gen 17: Dark Type

World - Moonwood Mill Job - Criminal Lot Challenge - None Skills to work on - Werewolf, athletics Aspiration: Werewolf Aspirations (Initiate, Lone Wolf, Collective or Wildfangs & Cure) + Public Enemy

Gen 18: Fairy Type

World - Glimmerbrook Job - Part-Time (Spellcaster) or Astronaut (Alien) Lot Challenge - None Skills to work on - Spellcaster - Spellcasting, Potion Making Skills to work on - Alien - Rocket Science, Robotics Aspiration - Spellcaster: Purveyor of Potions & Spellcraft and Sorcery, The Curator Aspiration - Alien: Nerd Brain & Friend of the World, The Curator

Have fun with it & please tag me if you choose to try the challenge, I love seeing other peoples storylines and challenge stuff! You can also use the tag #PokemonLegacyChallenge or #18Types18Generations !

[front-facing-pokemon]

[edwinisms]

i like to think, as a hc or a theory (because it’s definitely possible), that charles has had a few kisses throughout his high school years, sure, but past that he’s undeniably a virgin– well, kind of undeniably, because I think he’d deny it if found out by trying to use technicalities (“I mean that one time there was friction involved–“), but to any reasonable person, and by occult standards (see: edwin being a virgin sacrifice), he’s a virgin.

and i think this because it seems like him to fib about his level of experience (like he did when agreeing he’d sleep with crystal, matching her level of casualness about it) when in the presence of people who do, actually, have experience, in the hopes he doesn’t come off as lame or childish. given what we know about his “friends” when he was alive, they seem like the type to have teased or bullied boys– especially in their own circle– who haven’t gotten laid, or at the very least would’ve thought less of someone for it. and given what we know about charles, i don’t think he’d be nearly as sleazy and inconsiderate as his group when it comes to landing girls with the primary intention of adding to his body count. and considering he’s only supposed to be 16? and has never mentioned any significant relationships pre-death? it just seems unlikely.

all that to say– I can see him maintaining that facade of experience and confidence literally right up until the moment it matters, and in the heat of the moment getting nervous and embarrassed because “uhhh. so I may have been exaggerating some things.” though he’s not totally clueless either, I think it’d take a bit of a soft heart to heart moment for him to be reassured enough that he won’t fuck up and hurt his partner to go any further.

anyway not sure what the relevance of this is, but it’s something.

[batri-jopa]

Thank you @chrisoels for tagging me in a Picrew challenge!

Here are the rules: make yourself as a kid, teen, young adult and now, using this Picrew, use your favorite color at the time as a background, and tag some people.

Tagging, if you'd like to try: @zorilleerrant , @figuringthengsout , @ourtintedworld

[kuruk]

stayed up late to play splatoon with my little sister who's on a horrible sleeping schedule rn and when I went to lay down in bed my joint pain and finger mobility suddenly felt so weird I couldn't control my hand (real) and I had a panic attack instantly thinking I wss having a stroke (not real) 😑 90% of the panic attacks I've had this year happened like as soon as I laid down to go to sleep. don't even know how to prevent it other then literally don't stop sleeping and napping in case you accidentally go over 12 hours of being awake and start to decline mentally. lying on back is the worst for anxiety even on a good day I can't stay like that without getting anxious for no reason and lying on my stomach is my preferred position but I can feel my heartbeat too much like that T_T and side isn't good either because I always have to switch and then I get scared.. not to mention how one side is going to feel uneven and make me think it's finally happening...

[doctorwhoisadhd]

one thing about me is i have no idea what i know because i have no idea what is like a normal amount of knowledge about anything

[taus-inc]

omg omg omg why do i not remember watching planet 51 it was so so good. 10/10 movie

[venacoeurva]

Since they would be experimental (since I haven't taken them in about 2 years), they would be slightly discounted as I get used to it again as a commission type. Cartoony style only. Prices are generally the same as my regular cartoony full bodies, but will likely be a flat price vs sliding with cropping and all that, with specific fees like addtl. characters or complexity.

Also, for anyone interested, I'm down to draw most kinks/fetishes that are not harmful, I've done that kind of thing before, I just need to know that's your intent that it's kink/fetish art and you aren't trying to stealth it past me. I'll make a more detailed list of examples and specific ones I don't do comms for if interest is high.

Given the content, I will restrict experimental slots to people I see around such as mutuals, prior clients, people I've spoken with before, and followers I recognize until I reopen to more people once a more concrete system is figured out. Age must be listed in order to order one of these if I do open them.

[relicsongmel]

You know, I've held for a long time the belief that canon!Denise eventually surpasses Sylvia and is just a notch above her in terms of battle prowess despite being younger. But the more I think about it the more I realize Paldea!Denise blows Sylvia out of the WATER with how strong she is to the point it's not even a contest

[bossbotmgr]

Minor ramble under cut about browsing thru old posts. I was gonna put them in tags of a shorter post but its too long lol

If you can't tell I really love going thru sprees of finding blogs from 2010s. I didn't use Tumblr very much until 2017ish and although I wasnt into Toontown its oddly nostalgic seeing similar posts. In a way it was all heartwarming, bittersweet, kind of sad, a bit cringe inducing (old memes) but mostly positive.

Internet archival and history is a pretty big interest of mine, and I know its a joke to say "Wonder what historians will say about this in 100 years" but in a way you kind of are like a historian on the internet looking at these old posts (If that makes sense..) And putting together trends and even silly discourse.

Its no secret the internet and fanbase culture has really shifted within this decade. I don't know what the reason would be exactly (Probably a mixture of userbase aging and the crushing presence of things like capitalism and other oppressive forces) but even then, hostility is present among new fans and younger fans. Who I do feel sorry for they didn't experience things like goofy reblog chains or DeviantArt journal entries. But even then now, it feels like there isn't much of a space for many of us online. Not without becoming incredibly decentralized, which some people can't just quit certain platforms. (Like needing it for their job)

Getting off topic a bit- I thought about that when I was looking at those old "New to Toonblr <:D" introduction posts, and deactivated blogs long gone welcoming them. I know that theres been quite alot of discourse/bickering lately in certain areas. I've seen alot of pessimism among people I follow or are mutuals with. I also have had experiences with being harassed or being block evaded. I don't know what would neccessarily "fix" that issue, as discourse and bad apples will be in every fanbase. But I think theres a bit of "for myself" think. Sometimes it feels like people view each other as enemies O~O and I notice alot of cliques..

Anyways, just things I thought about. I don't want this to be a "old web good" post. Thats viewing the past with rose tinted glasses. But I think we should maybe examine our relationships with media and our interests and how we talk among each other to create a more fun space for everyone. At the end of the day we all like the same defunct mmo :p

[gwasgy]

there I was: cuddling my laptop, entering stardew valley data into my little spreadsheet for my next farmer playthrough, falling asleep 100%. lights turned on teeth dirty bladder full, fading to and from consciousness like a baby being pat on the back nonstop couldnt control it. at my body's complete and sleepy mercy. sat upright and unable to open my eyes. but i cannot recreate this and i couldnt stay in that beautiful sleepy moment. god curses me to piss and he PUNISHES the pisser and now I can never sleep again

[isthisjackie]

I want to preface this by saying that I’m very pro-kink and generally pro-consenting adults doing whatever they want with each other

With that said, I accidentally went down a rabbit hole last night bc tumblr recommended a blog that was all themed around a very specific kink that I’m not into and don’t usually like seeing it on my dash, so I was going about blocking a few that had similar posts. And like. Some of these people are literally 18 or 19 (one said they were still in high school) talking about some very heavy kinks that have very complicated power dynamics that I personally could not imagine being able to fully understand so young.

I’m not saying any of these people should not be allowed to explore their sexuality or even that they shouldn’t be in kink-related settings. It was like people who were into things like cnc but censoring words so it was like “r4pe” and “fauxinc3st” that it felt like if you are not mature enough to write out those words, then you may not be mature enough to be experimenting with those kinks on a level you’re currently trying to. There are plenty of predatory people out there who insist they’re very experienced in the kink scene, especially online.

TLDR: I’m begging 18-20 yr olds out there experimenting with kink for the first time to please be fucking careful and think about if you’re ready for some of this stuff

[orphee-aux-enfers]

my bien-aimé and I have been on a video call almost constantly for over one week (except for when WhatsApp is rude and times itself out). This is my new and biggest joy in life tbqh

[backpackingspace]

......oh. I just

Sometimes I know things about a character that I've latched on to that I don't think that deeply about. Until it hits me that that was me. I was that age the character was when I was going through the exact same trauma and i just.

If they didn't deserve it. If they were a child then so was I. So was I.

[rivilu]

I'm fucking sick again! You know what that means!

[ohcaptains]

knuckle velvet

synopsis. he walks you home, then lets himself in.

pairing. logan howlett x f!reader. tags. [18+] dubious consent, vaginal penetration, female receiving oral sex, spitting. honey don't feed it, it'll come back type beat.

Some deep part of Canada, where everything was white. Snowstorms that swarmed through the sky, and the only warmth you could find came from the bottom of a bottle.

The wood floor of the sticky bar you worked in was soaked from frost covered boots – haphazardly scraped across the welcome mat, owners preoccupied with getting their first drink than keeping the place tidy.

You existed there, behind the bar that patrons lent against, like a metal cage with leering onlookers. They paid in drinks, but you took the money home as tips, your warmth stoked in a fireplace.

How you’d ended up there in that forgotten part of the world, you didn’t know.

Perhaps you’d followed a narrow path, one strung out with thorns and rubbish, but the money was okay.

When it got slow, and there wasn’t much else to do, your boss let you read a bit, too, while you sipped on your endless supply of Coca-Cola.

At the end of your shift, your teeth were fuzzy from all the sugar. 

An easy existence, but some nights, the patrons got too friendly.

They were fresh off their trucks, looking for some place warm to bury for the night, but you weren’t offering.

So, you’d peer at them, watch them make a fool of themselves as they spewed putrid words in your general direction – alcohol and lack of sleep causing the floor to sway from beneath their feet.

It was always the new boys who would try it.

Risk it all for a chance between your thighs, unaware of the hound sitting at the end of the bar, nursing a whiskey and a vendetta.

The first time he fought for you, the air had changed. Gone cloudy with the chance of a brawl – that sixth sense that all bartenders have switching on.

“Lady said no, ain’t she?” he bellowed from across the bar.

The voice thick with smoke and alcohol, you recognised him as the guy who’d been drinking whiskey all night, but he was as sober as a nun. No stumble to his step, or slur to his cadence, either.

He was built like an oak tree. You noticed when you served him. Slid him his drink and gazed at the sheer bulk of him. At the weathered, handsome age to his face, to the spray of grey in his brown hair.

His thick arms were snugly buried under a button up shirt, and you didn’t see, but rather imagined, the way his muscular legs were stuffed into jeans, and the way his size 12’s rested against the hardwood.

His eyes though, were hiding something. Milky brown concealing his curiosity – easily done with the hard panes of his face.

You imagined letting him take you home, and you thought about being friendly, before a whisper in the back of your cranium told you to back off.

Perhaps safer.

You didn’t know where this man had come from, let alone where he’d been. So, you continued to serve him drinks, and tried to ignore the quiet hum of his presence, until the hum turned to a crash.

The patron was scorned. He paused, and turned to the end of the bar, where the brown eyed stranger was waiting. “What’s it to you?” he slurred.

But the man with the whiskey wasn’t looking to him. He sipped his drink, and said, “she said no. You don’t remember your manners?”

The bar adorned an eerie quiet. Nerves sat low in your belly, heart picking up speed.   “This guy serious?” he asked you.

You went to say something, but he was already throwing words at the stranger.

“She yours or something?” “It matter?” “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” The stranger scoffed, and brought his drink to his lips, “whatever bub.”

“We got a problem?” the man uttered, stalking towards him, but his friend took him by the arm and whispered something in his ear, forcing him to deflate.

You wondered what he’d uttered. Whether there were rumours about the guy – a reputation you didn’t know about.

Brown eyes didn’t bat an eye when the man and his buddy slid out the door, cold filling the room before the door slammed shut.

The bar exhaled.

People went back to their business, and you thought about it, you really did. Thought about leaving him alone. Going back to your measly existence. Your home – the pit for all of your things.

But it didn’t win over in the end.

You topped up his drink. He took it, and glanced at you, brown eyes ringed with mystery.

“That happen often?” he uttered, voice a gruff grunt.

You put the bottle down, and looked away, thinking back to last week when you nearly fought a guy for staring for too long. You glanced back to him. “Sometimes.” “Your boss is an asshole for letting you work here alone.” “That so?” you laughed, shocked at his candour. He nodded and downed his drink, eyeing you from over the rim.

Finished, he put the glass down on the bar, and shrugged his jacket on. He got up to leave, and you felt a chasm begin to open up in your chest.

You went to say something. Anything, to make him stay. But he paused and looked over his shoulder.

His jaw was clenched when he tentatively offered, “be safe.”

When you locked up, he was waiting for you. 

It didn’t scare you. Really, it should, but when you left the bar and saw him standing there, toking on a cigar in the cold, all it did was make you pause. He stood there, gazing at you, eyes clouded by smoke. 

“You waiting for me?” you uttered, making it real, even if the light drift of snow was giving the world a dream like quality. 

He shrugged. “Just waiting.” 

You nodded, and put the bar keys in your bag, ignoring the chasm get wider. If he was going to rob the place, he’d have to get through layers of receipts and tissues to get in. But you knew the bar wasn’t what he was after. Something about his posture, the luring look in his brown eyes — curious, like he was trying to figure something out. 

You began to walk past him, but when he didn’t follow, you paused. You peered over your shoulder, and he was still looking at you. 

Taking you in. “Well,” you started, hitching your bag up your arm, “you gonna walk me home, or what?” 

He followed you in comfortable silence.

Just you, the night, and the crunch of dirt under his boots. His cigar smoke drifted by, and it wafted through your subconscious, followed by pine, and crisp scent of the snow.

He sounded like the noise of the woods — ever present in these parts. A comfort, if one had adapted to its unpredictability. When you got to your familiar walkway, you opened the gate, but he didn’t follow you through.

Instead, he stood by the entrance, watching you unlock your door like he’d just dropped you off from a date. it was when you were halfway through that he spoke up. “You work every night?”

“Yeah,” you started quickly, looking to him. “Apart from Wednesday and Sunday.” He considered you, then gave you a sharp nod, and turned to leave.

That’s how you ended up with a wolf at your door.

Every night, he was the last one left, then he silently walked you home.

Some nights, you’d find him leaning against the entrance, and he’d quietly peel away from the door and follow you. At first, he simply walked closely behind, a looming shadow, until he began walking beside you.

Then one night, you let him in.

Made him a cup of coffee to fight off all the liquor he consumed, and he sat at your kitchen table, and drank every drop.

Watched you in the low, fluorescent lighting, and you did the same. Curiously studied him. He looked different in your home. In your kitchen. Looked a little softer around the edges, even if he couldn’t relax completely.

It went like that for a while. It was on one of these nights that he gave you his name, followed by a shitty cup of coffee. Sometimes two. Maybe a biscuit, or a piece of cake. Leftovers turned into home cooked meals. Sat at the kitchen table and watched him eat. Roast beef. Mashed potatoes. Lasagna. Sipped at your cup of tea as he slopped up his pasta, using the back of his hand to wipe the sauce off his mouth.

You left him finishing off his plate to get ready for bed, and it was when you were sorting your hair out, that he came into your bedroom and began taking his boots off.

You stood at your mirror and watched him place them near your door.

Then he reached up and began unbuttoning his shirt.

One by one, you watched his thick fingers reach the bottom. He took it off, revealing a white tank off and broad chest, and hung the shirt up on your door frame.

Jeans next.

Popped the button and shucked them to his feet -- threw them with his boots and dragged himself towards your bed.  

You went to say something. Anything.

But he looked so exhausted as he crashed onto your frilly bed, that all you could manage was, “You lock the door?”

Logan nodded. His eyes were already closed, and he was hugging the pillow when he uttered, “you coming to bed, or what?”

You let him stay the night.

Maybe it was raining, maybe he was too tired – it didn’t matter. All that mattered, was that he was warm, and sometimes, when you woke and felt the terrifying ache of being alive, he’d be there to quiet the pain.

Hush you with the soft swell of his lips and wandering hands.

You’d come with a hushed whisper, hot and sticky over his calloused fingers -- drowsy from how high he took you. Then he’d kiss you, fix your clothes, and go back to sleep.

Always the middle of the night. When it was dark and quiet out, and it felt as if you were the last people alive.

His skilled hands bringing you to the brink, a soft kiss, then back to bed.

You would wait for it. Watch him nurse his whiskey at the end of the bar, the night dragging with every drink you poured. Then, he watched you lock up.

Waited at the door for you, so you could walk home together, wordlessly taking the familiar trail.

He’d eat, you’d watch, then leave for your room.

Once, you woke to his head between your thighs. The night was quiet, room dark – slither of moonlight from your window cutting a line through your bodies.

You were slick with sweat, and as you flexed your taunt muscles, they fizzled and singed. Hot heat pushed low in your belly, rooted between your thighs.

Logan hummed, and you reached down and grabbed a fistful of his hair, whimpering his name to grab his attention.

He had palm fulls of you. Fists of your thighs, soft of your belly, leaving marks with his desire – desperation. The first thing he did was apologise. Muttered a hoarse, m’sorry, into your soaking cunt, but continued tasting you.

You used his hair as leverage, and hitched your hips up an inch, causing his nose to bump into your sensitive clit, and you hissed, as if in pain, but the sound trailed off into something similar to his name, and Logan grunted, moving your hips further up so he could twist a thick finger inside.

You took all he gave.

Moaned into the pillow beside you as you rocked your hips against his face, soaking his nose and mouth. Said shit you didn’t mean, but meant all the same, and Logan got off on it.

This mysterious man who had taken over your life, grunted your name like it belonged to him. Made you come on his thick beard and puffy lips, then made you taste yourself as he kissed you.

You hugged his sweat slick frame to you, fingers scratching his scalp, mindlessly grinding against his clothed cock. You were content to just kiss him, until he dragged his fingers between your thighs again.

You startled, gasping into his hot mouth, but Logan hummed, near smiling against your lips.

“’think there’s another in there for me,” he drawled.

When he fucked you, there was so much of him that you went blind with it. Eyes half lidded, delirious as he pushed inside, making himself fit. Stuffing you full, then pulling out, just to feel it all over again.

Again and again. You moaned his name into his soaked, scarred chest. Felt yourself leave your body, so hot, so wet, that it was all sensation. Just the slap of his hips against yours, the feel of his hands on your tits, in your mouth, telling you to open wide.

He spat, and when he missed, he smeared the mess off of your chin and rubbed it into your cunt.

Made you come, then filled you with his own. Leant back, and watched it drip out of you. You were so consumed by him, that you didn’t have enough energy to feel self-conscious.

No, when he had his wild eyes on you, you reached between your thighs and stuffed it back inside.

The next evening, and he was back at the bar, waiting for you to bring him his whiskey. When you placed it in front of him, those wild eyes were on you again.

Waiting. Always waiting.

Waiting to play out your usual routine.

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