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blindmagdalena · 4 months

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Guilty Pleasures ( chapter two )

18+ 3.8k homelander x plus size f!reader. workplace harassment, stalking, voyeurism, masturbation, lite humiliation kink, lite somnophilia, breaking & entering, petty theft, sublander flavored. nebulously takes place post s1. part 2/4. AO3 link. CH I. CH 3

Homelander is the most powerful man in the world, and all he wants is to be yours.

After spending the majority of your evening and the following morning anticipating being fired, walking into work the next day feels like traversing a thinly frozen lake, each step webbing out in precarious cracks.

Clearly you’re not the only one who thinks so: you clock a handful of surprised looks from coworkers who’d attended the meeting and took note of the tension between you and Vought’s golden boy.

Maybe they’d taken bets on whether or not you’d be coming in this morning.

There’s no sign of Homelander on your way in. Not that you were expecting him–yesterday was the first time you actually saw him in person–but you still find yourself on the lookout. It’s hard to say whether you’re anticipating or dreading him. Part of you is still expecting to open your door and find a letter on your desk politely informing you that they’ve determined you aren’t a good “culture fit” for the company, and that your probation has been terminated.

After all, who in their right mind would take your side over Homelander’s?

You push open your office door, and sure enough, there is a letter waiting for you, but not in the way you expected. You stand in the doorway, staring in quiet incomprehension. The envelope, crisp and bright white, is propped up in a bed of rich red roses sitting in a pretty vase upon your desk. You glance behind you before you step inside, closing the door behind you, and approach the desk cautiously. You pluck the paper out of the bouquet, taking a moment to smell the flowers–they smell as good as they look–before you carefully rip open the envelope, tearing the small american flag sticker that sealed it.

Inside, there’s only one word on the folded piece of paper, scrawled in surprisingly elegant handwriting.

Truce?

You can’t help the incredulous little bark of laughter you give at that. It’s not even an apology. It’s a demand that he expects a gratuitous bundle of flowers will help you swallow, like taking medicine with a spoonful of sugar.

“You’re ridiculous,” you say quietly to the letter, setting it down on your desk. You give the roses one last sniff, testing one of the soft petals between your fingers. You wonder if what you said actually got through to him.

Homelander has no real reason to smooth things over with you: you’re no one. He’s posed no risk to himself by coming after you. He could no doubt have you fired by complaining that your marketing tactics don’t align with his brand. It’s hard to imagine Vought denies him much.

Yet he is apparently negotiating peace. It’s not nearly enough, but it is a start.

Or maybe it’s just more than you expected.

You sit, idly tapping the letter against your desk. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t still think him handsome. Homelander wasn’t the first man to ogle your tits while you gave a presentation, but he was certainly the first to fluster you like that when he did. His sly smile had made you want to slap him, but there was a questionable little part of you that thought about kissing it better afterwards.

Taking in a steadying breath, you slip the letter into your desk drawer and adjust the flowers to the side, admiring them a moment before you pull out your laptop.

If Homelander can behave himself enough to let you do your job without public humiliation, you can afford a truce. You don’t need to forgive or condone him to be civil, or even to continue having your own private fantasies. A little guilty pleasure now and again never hurt anyone.

You can’t know that Homelander is observing you throughout this internal conversation, watching through several layers of steel and concrete, his parted lips curving into a slow smile as you accept his offering. You can’t know that you haven’t just acknowledged a truce, but an invitation.

No, you can’t possibly know what’s to come.

Two days later, you diligently change the water that the roses in your office sit in. They’re doing well, the crimson buds having unfurled into a splay of velvety petals. You pinch one between your thumb and forefinger and stroke it absently. Homelander has continued to be a scarcity, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t seen him. Quite the opposite: you spend most of your working hours either looking at or thinking about his face to the point where it’s starting to follow you home each day.

That’s what you tell yourself when you think of him outside of work hours, anyways.

It’s been long enough now that you wonder if the flowers were the end of it. He was simply covering his ass with a half hearted gesture that slightly resembled an apology so that you could both comfortably drop the subject. That was entirely fine by you so long as he actually did improve his behavior.

A familiarly brisk knock at your door catapults your heart up against the cage of your ribs like a spooked hare. It’s the exact same beat, you’re sure of it. You stay quiet, half expecting to be barged in upon, but when nothing happens, you move from your desk and open the door yourself, intentionally blocking it with your body.

Sure enough, Homelander stands tall on the other side. He flashes his signature smile while your eyes narrow suspiciously. “Can I help you?”

“I think I’m the one who can help you,” he says brightly, that spread of teeth downright wolfish. He lifts a handful of papers that have been stapled at the corner, gesturing for you to take it.

Still wary, you take them from him and shift, wedging your foot to keep the door firmly in place while you flip through the pages. Your brows furrow as you recognize chunks of your own presentation. Understanding dawns when you realize that he’s annotated them.

“You read my presentation,” you say, unable to mask your surprise.

“Obviously. It’s my image on the line, right? Got some notes for you, but I have to say: y’mostly nailed it,” he says, reaching out to rest a gloved hand on the doorway.

“Mostly?” You echo, quirking an eyebrow at him as you look up from the pages.

“Yeah, mostly. Again, I have some minor notes,” he says, wiggling his other hand in a vague gesture. “But I figure I owe you praise on a job mostly well done.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Crossing your arms, you abandon your stern foothold on the door in order to shift your weight, your incredulity showing in every inch of your body language. “What you owe me is an apology.”

Homelander’s grin softens into a smile that’s no less challenging. “Looks to me like you’ve already been enjoying my apology,” he says, leaning slightly to gaze past you, to the bundle of roses sitting prettily on your desk.

You briefly glance over your shoulder, but your expression remains impassive. Unimpressed. “That? That isn’t an apology. An apology would include the words I’m sorry.”

He scoffs a dismissive laugh, swaying back to look away, but you persist.

“I’m serious,” you say, luring his ocean blue gaze back to yours. “I want you to say to me ‘I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation. It won’t happen again.’ “

The two of you hold each other’s gaze with all the magnitude of two gunmen in a duel, hands steady over your proverbial pistols.

To your surprise, Homelander does not fire back. He raises a dainty white flag.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved during your presentation,” he says, words slow and measured. You watch his tongue flash over his bottom lip, wetting it attractively. You fight to not let your eyes linger on it. “It won’t happen again.”

You swallow, suddenly finding thought and speech an impossible task. You weren’t prepared for such raw, ready obedience from him, nor the intensity in his gaze that follows it. He reminds you of a charmed snake–docile so long as he is transfixed.

“Good,” you say, the word half a sigh. Homelander’s lips part and he breathes in like he’s caught wind of something particularly delicious smelling. “I accept your apology, and I appreciate that you took the time to do this,” you say, gesturing with the documents in your hand. “I’ll go over them and get back to you.”

He reaches out, bracing his hand on your office door. You half expect him to push it open, but he merely holds it there. “We could go over them together,” he suggests slyly.

“No,” you say, clearly disarming him. He looks as though he’s forgotten the meaning of the word. “I’m in the middle of another project at the moment.”

The leather of his gloves creaks faintly in your ear as he flexes his grip on the edge of the door. While what you’ve said is true, it’s also serving as a test. Words and flowers are pretty things, but only actions always speak the truth.

“At the moment,” he repeats, gears visibly turning in his eyes. “So… Later?” He extrapolates, displaying an uncharacteristic tentativeness alongside his obvious displeasure at the taste of rejection. You even see a glimmer of hope in the mess of his expression..

He did pass the test. You suppose you can reward him for that.

“Another time,” you say, giving your door an exploratory push. He relents, his hands sliding down the length of it before falling away as he takes a half-step back. “How about tomorrow on my lunch break? 1:00 o'clock sharp.”

He splits into a smile that looks more genuine than any of his you’ve seen before. “Aaalrighty-roo. Sounds gooood to meeeee,” he says, drawing out his vowels more the closer he gets to actually having to leave. At your silent, amused stare, he claps his gloved hands together with a muffled thump! and takes a few more steps backwards. “Yooooou’ll see me… tomorrow.”

Your smile pinches along with your brows. What a strange way to phrase it. “See you then,” you say, watching as his face is eclipsed by your closing door. You wait a beat and then let out a thin thread of breath from your pursed lips, resting your weight on the door.

Looking down at the papers in your hand, you push off from the door and head to your desk, flipping through them.

Such a strange man, you think, carrying the notes to your desk. You set them down next to the vase of roses and try not to think too much about the unconscious smile your lips keep settling into for the rest of the day.

Homelander’s got you hook, line and sinker. He’s certain of it. He lingers on the other side of your door just long enough to watch you through it while you settle, a charmed smile set on your lips. He can already imagine how those lips would feel against his own, how they’d taste. He swallows thickly and looks around before he departs, already plotting his next move.

The two of you have a date tomorrow, and in order to be at the top of his game, he’s going to have to do a little additional research. Knowing your work was a good first step. The next one will be learning about you.

Following you home is the easy part. It ultimately feels chivalrous to do so once he realizes you walk home even at this time of year, when the sun sets long before the work day ends. He drifts above you, cocking his head curiously. No wonder you walk. The streets are packed as tightly as sardine cans, and your apartment garage isn’t much better. The claustrophobia of it all serves as a stark contrast to the openness of Vought tower.

The interior of your apartment provides an even sharper juxtaposition to his penthouse. It’s tidy, but the comparatively low ceilings and minimal floor space still make it look cramped. Somehow, you simultaneously have too much and yet not much at all, the confinement of a downtown apartment making what minimal affects you do own seem crowded together.

That only becomes more apparent once he’s inside, slipped in through your balcony after sleep has taken you. Why would you bother to lock your balcony when you live on the 8th floor? It works out perfectly for him.

In all fairness, your living room feels cozier once he’s standing in the center of it. Your walls are lined with an assortment of art pieces and photographs, and the shelves are well stocked with books and knick-knacks. You have a decent film collection displayed on your media console, and he can’t help but snoop through it, bending at the waist, examining through the rows. He cocks his head.

Odd. You’d think an employee of Vought would have at least a few VCU films. He runs his index finger along the spines, slightly adjusting them flush as he goes. Pursing his lips, he straightens up and looks at the closed cabinets on either side. The left one yields an untidy assortment of electronic odds and ends, cords and the like. Nothing of much interest other than an indication that while you like to keep up appearances, you aren’t quite as together as you’d like people to think.

It’s on the right side, however, he finds what he’s really looking for.

“Bingo,” he whispers, smiling to himself as he scopes out your little hidden collection of Vought hero flicks. Specifically, his films. He’s less interested in the handful of others you own (Queen Maeve: Her Majesty, Black Noir: Insurrection, Lamplighter: The Bright World, etc) and more so in the fact that you have nearly his entire catalog tucked away.

Nearly. You’re missing his eighteen part miniseries, Homelander: Brightest Night.

At least that gives him something to gift you.

Closing the cabinet, he meanders about the rest of your apartment. You have some plants in varying states of decay, with only a few cacti looking to be in decent shape. Either your work keeps you too busy to properly mind them, or you just like the idea of them more than the reality. It tells him that you’re looking–and failing–to fill a void in your life. You want to feel less alone in your home, you want to nurture something. You just haven’t found the right something yet.

Striding into your kitchen, arms folded behind his back, he peers through the cheap wood veneer of your fiberboard cupboards, unveiling an unusually broad assortment of mugs. There doesn’t seem to be any particular theme: holidays, locales, characters, and a menagerie of patterns.

He hums softly, pivoting out of the kitchen and down the hall, his steps preternaturally light. He listens for the beat of your heart as he draws near, tunes it in alongside the shallow cadence of your breath. Deep asleep. Good.

The walls are lined with pictures of you and others. Friends or family, he can’t say, but you look to have an abundance of both. He rarely sees himself in photos that aren’t promotional material. He pauses to straighten a picture frame, and finds himself so viciously jealous of the man sharing the frame with you–his lips pressed to your cheek, your laughing smile so genuine he can nearly hear it–that he almost knocks it to the ground.

Running his tongue along his teeth, he continues on.

Your bedroom door is open. He slips in silently, pausing just through the doorway. Your bed's a queen, too big for just you. You’re sprawled comfortably amidst pillows, limbs splayed in just such a way that he can easily imagine fitting himself in the empty spaces between them. He can smell the lingering burn of the candle you’d lit when you got home. He picks it up off your dresser, reading the label: Cup ‘o Joe.

Eugh. He never cared for coffee, and the artificial sweetness surrounding the note is cloying. Your perfume, on the other hand, he doesn’t mind. He notices the bottle alongside a few other of your things and puts the candle down in favor of that, popping the cap off. The smell hits him before he sprays it: vanilla first, then amber and something more woodsy. It’s less impressive by itself than it had been on you.

Still, it’s yours. You chose it for yourself.

Slipping off one of his gloves, he lightly sprays into the inside of it before he sets the bottle back down, recapping it. It won’t be the same, but he’s driven by the compulsion to spirit away any little pieces of you that he can. Just enough to satiate himself until he can have you properly.

That’s when he sees your blouse from today in a careless heap at the top of your laundry basket next to your dresser. Licking his lips, he tests the feel of the garment between his bare fingers. He’s always been sensitive to fabrics, and while the blend of this one is fairly cheap, it’s been worn and washed enough that it’s soft against his skin. He grabs a handful of it and lifts it to his mouth, brushing it along his lips, under his nose, and he deeply inhales your lingering scent mixing with the fresh pump of perfume.

He bites back a moan, screwing his eyes shut. His cock gives a dull little throb. Fuck, the spell you’ve cast on him makes him ache just for the smell of you, makes him salivate. He swallows it back, letting out a rough little breath as he reluctantly puts the shirt back down. Under it, he spies a little flash of something black and lacy. His stomach clenches, and he’s reaching for it before he can stop himself, fishing the black panties out of the heap and twisting the fabric between his fingers.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He can’t afford to overindulge. He won’t be able to control himself if he does, but he also can’t bring himself to put the little slip of fabric back down. He imagines he can almost taste where your sweet cunt had been pressed to it. Christ, he’s practically drooling. Out of sheer impulse, he yanks down the zipper of his pants with a quiet hiss of metal against metal and hastily pushes your underwear into his cup, biting down hard on his lip. He grinds once against his hand, savoring the feel of the fabric against his cock.

He’ll enjoy them far more than you’ll miss them.

Zipping himself back up, he carefully pulls open your top dresser drawer. He curiously pushes the contents around, mindful not to overly disturb, and his knuckles bump something solid. He shifts one of your bras–another near painful pang of arousal at the reminder of your breasts–aside and finds, to his delight, what any good marketing department would describe as “a large purple massage wand.”

A vibrator. He chews his bottom lip briefly, turning it over in his grip. An exciting find on all fronts. It’s smooth and decently hefty, good quality. You deserve even better. You might be capable of indulging yourself with this, but he could make you scream. You’ll never need a silly little toy again. Not when you have him.

Homelander moves to put it back in the drawer, but–

“Fuck!” He hisses when the button catches on his finger, and suddenly the damn thing is buzzing.

Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chants mentally, jabbing at the buttons in an attempt to silence it, but pressing the same ones only makes the accursed device louder. In a frantic move, he grips the neck and squeezes. There’s a soft crunch beneath the silicone, and as abruptly as it had begun, the buzzing ends. His heart is thudding heavily in his chest. He listens to the silence, to you.

He looks over his shoulder. No movement. Your breaths remain shallow.

Christ.

So much for leaving no trace. He slips the busted toy back amidst your underthings and snatches his glove off of your dresser, tucking it under his arm. He hones his attention on you as he approaches your bed, assuring himself that you really are still asleep. He stands there for a while, admiring the part of your lips and the haphazard splay of your pajamas and where they cling to your body.

No bra.

His bare hand flexes. Being so close is too much of a temptation. He wets his lips with a quick slide of his tongue and bends down. He ghosts his fingers just over your cheek, not quite daring to touch. He can smell the faint remnants of your toothpaste on your breath, your shampoo, and beneath it all, you. It's intoxicating, it's…

Your brows furrow slightly in your sleep and you make a soft noise, interrupting his thoughts. He wonders if you’re dreaming–dreaming of him, perhaps. He’d like to think so. He’d like to think that you’re just as affected by him wanting you as he is, and that’s the real reason you invited him to lunch. He saw it in your eyes when he echoed your words, the thrill that went through you. He could have gone to his knees for you in that moment and had you in giving himself to you.

Desperate for just a taste, he kisses ever so gently between your brows, his own breaths matching the cadence of yours. Divine. You're divine. So effortlessly perfect and so aware of your own power. How could he not want every part of you?

He means to leave it there, to walk away with nothing but the slight salt of your brow on his lips, but the pull is too great. He's greedy, drunk on the smell and the taste of you, on the feel of your panties pressed up against his cock, and he can't stop himself from sampling your lips against his.

It’s the barest hint of touch, and yet the contact lances electricity through him like he’s been struck by a bolt of lightning. Your lips are soft, soft, soft. He knew they would be. Everything about you is so fucking soft. It takes everything in him to pull away, standing back to his full height.

He's aching, yearning so intensely he could rip the covers away and take you just like this, shake you awake, declare himself and have you. Would you scream, or would you have that same look of affronted understanding of him? You see him in a way few are ever brave–or stupid–enough to dare.

Not yet.

He won’t spoil the game. He agreed to play by your terms. As far as you’re concerned, he’ll do precisely that. You’ll be none the wiser in regards to his little reconnaissance mission–anything could have happened to your vibrator–and the two of you can play your little game as if you stand on equal footing.

Sucking in a silent breath, Homelander leaves alone, but not empty handed.

He’ll make very good use of his little trophy tonight.

( chapter three )

#i have no self control ENJOYYYYY #praise me it's shocking i finished this so quickly #although it's not really finished bc i'm stretching it into 3 parts but #couldn't help myself i needed him to be a little weirdo #next chapter is already started tho and shouldn't take long!#ALSO I MADE THIS GIF #i'm so happy lol #my writing #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander fanfiction #homelander #plus size reader

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thepettymachine · 10 months

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Not So Berry Plus Challenge for the TS3

I just wanted more for the TS3 version of this challenge and honestly, who wouldn't. I didn't create this challenge, I simply added and modified somethings to fit more for what TS3 has to offer while trying to keep to the NSB playstyle and heart of the challenge. So if you like the NSB but want more to do in the TS3 version of it, this is a challenge for you.

Disclaimer: I didn't make this challenge, @lilsimsie did. I also incorporated ideas from @simlovinggirl from her TS3 version of this challenge. Also inspiration from @sweetlysimss from their updated version of the TS4 version. Also sim wikia page for all information i need in terms of gameplay.

Tag: the normal nsb tag or "nsb plus" or "nsb +" or "@" me

Do you like the rainbow? Do you like the idea of playing with berry Sims but hate berry Sims? Do you want to mess around with aspects of the game you’ve never used before? Boy, do I have the challenge for you!

Rules:

You can follow the orignal rules of the NSB but I'm not requiring it for this.

You can keep the color scheme for each generation or just stick to the objectives of each generation. It is up to you as the player

2-3 traits are required but you don't have to have all of them for the heir if you don't want to.

Have fun!

If you wish to keep track of the generation goals/your progress, @rcpunzel created this spreadsheet for the challenge

🔬 Generation 1: Mint

What a mischievous scientist you are! As a career-driven individual, you still try to hangout with your friends and family and want what’s best for them. But in your free time, you enjoy the misfortune you cause others and love the idea of luxury in your life. Minty fresh indeed.

Traits: Vegetarian, Ambitious, Friendly, Inappropriate, Green Thumb

Aspiration: Become a Creature-Robot Cross Breeder

Career: Science

Objectives:

Reach Level 9 of Science Career

Master the gardening, fishing, and science skills

Have 3 best friends that you hangout with once a week

Make 3 enemies

Meet your match: Marry a sim with the inappropriate/mean-spirited trait whom you get into a fight with.

Own a garden with excellent quality with rare fruit (life fruit, death flower, omni plant, etc)

Own expensive luxury items in your home

Spoil your children rotten (get them anything their wishes desire)

Complete the Gems & Metals collection

💋 Generation 2: Rose

You were spoiled rotten as a child and it made you into an irresponsible insatiable person who hungers for more. Whether it's in your career in politics or lovers you left in tears, you always get what you want and leave the mess for someone else to clean up. Even if one mess ended up with your beloved child.

Traits: Flirty, Workaholic, Charismatic, Irresistible, Schmoozer,

Lifetime Wish: Master Romancer

Career: Politician

Objectives:

Only have one child that resulted from a one night stand

Gain the “Casanova/Natasha” reputation (for 7+ relationships/romantic interests at one time) or gain the “Player” reputation (for 9+ relationships/romantic interests but none at the same time)

Reach level 10 of Politician career

Throw campaign parties

Master the Charisma skill

Break off an engagement

Get married as an elder

Be distant with your child, provide for them but never be there for them.

Become publicly disgraced for something

Become best friends with your boss

Live in a big house with maids + butler

🔭 Generation 3: Yellow

Growing up, you never had a great relationship with your parent but you did gain your grandparent’s interest in science, specifically space. As a child, you spent the majority of time enjoying your own company while obsessing over black holes, planets, and traveling to the stars. You spent your whole life dreaming of space, now it’s time to make it a reality. No matter the cost.

Traits: Loner, Handy, Socially Awkward, Brave, Computer Whiz

Lifetime Wish: High Tech Collector

Career: Astronomer

Objectives:

Your best and only friend is your Grandparent. No close relationships or friendships until they die.

Find a star and name it

Master Logic and Advanced Technology skills

Own a Hoverboard, Dream Pod, Food Synthesizer, Holo Disc, and Jet Pack

Join the Astronomy career and go into the Space Explorer branch

Travel to Simulon V

Never marry because space is your one true love

Neglect your own children but still be friends with them. (no teaching of skills, not caring about hw, etc)

Get abducted by aliens and have an alien child

⚽ Generation 4: Grey

You always enjoyed playing sports and being in the great outdoors, contrary to what your family is interested in. You dream of becoming a professional athlete but you’ve always felt second place to your parent’s obsessions growing up and didn’t want the same for your children. You want to be there for your kiddos as much as possible. So while you’re hanging out with your family, you find music is something that brings you closer together.

Traits: Athletic, Virtuoso , Nurturing, Loves the Outdoors, Technophobe

Lifetime Wish: Superstar Athlete

Career: Professional Sports

Objectives:

Be in the Scouts as a child

Reach Level 10 of Sports career

Master the Athletic skill and a Musical Instrument

Teach all your children the xylophone

Be best friends with all your children

Have 3 failed relationships before finding the one.

Do outdoor activities with your family (going to the park, beach, camping, etc)

Jam out with your family (once the kids get older) on your instrument of choice

Celebrate the seasons together:

Go to seasonal festivals, host seasonal parties, and decorate the home for family fun.

🎤 Generation 5: Plum

Everyone has always told you how talented you are. You’ve always been naturally good at everything to the point that nothing ever challenges you. This causes you to search for something that will. You tried different careers and learned some new skills, heck, you even tried being a Doctor. But one day at a karaoke bar, you sanged your heart out and realized that you love music and wish to become a singer. Is it too late to pursue your dream in your adulthood? Let’s find out!

Traits: Daredevil, Diva, Lucky, Commitment Issues, Natural Born Performer

Lifetime Wish: Jack of all Trades

Career: Multiple jobs, Medical, Singer

Objectives:

Make straight A’s as a child and teen

Pick 3 different jobs before deciding on the Medical career

Quit the medical career as an adult to pursue your dream as a Singer

Master 3 skills, one of them has to be a musical instrument.

Complete all of your midlife crisis wishes

Get divorced and then remarry the same sim

Move to 3 different worlds in your lifetime

Reach at least celebrity level 3 as a Singer

Perform at a big private venue

🖕 Generation 6: Orange

Growing up, homelife was competitive and hectic. You never had stability with your parent’s constant hedonistic whims affecting your life. You also didn’t reach academic success like your siblings who always outperformed you in everything, making you feel like a loser in your own family. But while your siblings were doing their thing, you were doing yours. Stealing. The joy of taking something without getting caught is like adrenaline in your veins and you want more. You also want to learn more about cooking as it calms you down.

Traits: Loser, Natural Cook, Evil, Kleptomaniac, Hot-Headed

Lifetime Wish: Become a Master Thief

Career: Criminal (Thief branch)

Objectives:

Reach level 10 of the Criminal career in the Thief branch

Master the Cooking skill

Steal from your neighbors and other townsfolk

Marry a fellow criminal or someone with the Evil trait.

Only have twins for children

Cook your favorite food + everybody in the household as well.

Learn 28 recipes/Menu Maven challenge

Live in a fixer upper home/apartment in YA years

In Adult years, live in a house you can’t afford and purchase weird expensive items for aesthetic

Have at least 5 enemies

📖 Generation 7: Pink

You grew up watching your parents be irresponsible with their finances and let you have a little too much freedom in raising yourself. This causes you to become a very practical individual who believes in the steady 9-5 corporate hustle. Your twin on the other hand, dreams of becoming a big time Director in Bridgeport and you can’t help your envy as you also have a secret dream of becoming a best selling romance writer. As you see your twin succeed in their dream, maybe you too can try to pursue your dreams. Maybe you too can find the love you’ve always dreamed about.

Traits: Frugal, Unflirty, Bookworm, Hopeless Romantic, Neurotic

Lifetime Wish: Professional Author

Career: Business, Self-employed Writer

Objectives:

Master the Writing skill

Live with your twin while they reach the Director branch of the Film career

Live in an urban city in your YA years, move to woodsy/rural town in your Adult years

Quit the business career to pursue your dream of being a writer as an adult

Own multiple bookshelves in your home

Write 5 Romance books in order to become a specialist in the genre

Write 5 books outside of your genre

Find love as an adult through online dating

Send love letters to your romantic interest

🕵️ Generation 8: Peach

As a child, you loved the stories your parents read to you about dashing knights, charming adventurers,and mysteries to be solved by the world’s greatest minds. You’ve always wanted to become a detective but you also have a thirst for adventure. Why not both?! You work primarily as a detective by solving cases and investigating clues but when you get that itch to explore, you catch a plane to your next destination and meet the locals who will tell you their stories.

Traits: Perspective, Good Sense of Humor, Genius, Adventurous, Photographer’s Eye

Lifetime Wish: Pervasive Private Eye

Career: Private Investigator

Objectives:

Reach level 10 of Detective profession

Move to a different world than the one you were born in

Visit explore different worlds (can be custom/WA destinations)

Master the Photography skill

Bring back souvenirs from your travels

Play chess in the local park and play against other townies for fun

Marry a local

Make all your friends through jokes & funny videos

Have a dog and be best friends with them

🎮 Generation 9: Green

So popular! You’ve always been the life of the party as you are an outgoing person who's always down to have a good time with friends. But no one would suspect that you’re really just a giant nerd that loves playing video games and painting in their spare time. That’s why it’s such a shock to some that you decided to major in Technology and become a Game Developer. You’re a hard worker who wants to develop amazing games but will party to the break of dawn with no regrets.

Traits: Party Animal, Social Butterfly, Excitable, Computer Whiz, Artistic

LTW: Reach Max Influence with All Social Groups

Career: Video Game Developer (Game Artist Branch)

Objectives:

Moonlight as a barista at bars for extra cash/side hustling

Hacking is also another side hustle for extra cash (Computer Whiz trait exclusive)

Attend University as a Technology major

Unlock the Video Game Developer career by maxing out Nerd social group status

Master Mixology, Social Networking, and Painting skills

Accept every invitation to parties/outings with your friends

Own a comic book collection

Have a personal blog

Have at least 5 good friends

Marry your best friend

🍼 Generation 10: Blue

Your dreams are a reality now that you have married the love of your life, had beautiful children, live in your dream home, and work your dream career. What could you possibly want more than this?! Actually… alot. You find yourself dissatisfied with your present circumstances and your eyes have begun to wander onto things you shouldn’t but want to have. As you begin to question and explore your new found cravings, a one time affair produces a bundle of joy and now everything you hold close to your heart is now in jeopardy of breaking apart at the seams.

Traits: Perfectionist, Good, Family-Oriented, Grumpy, Neat

Lifetime Wish: Surrounded by Family

Career: Teacher

Objectives:

Marry your high school sweetheart and stay with them until death do you part

Join the Education career

Host a big wedding

Move into your dream house

Adopt at least 1 child

Teach your children all of their skills

Toddlers - Teach, talk, poop, logic, music

Children - encourage their skills and help them with their homework