Monthly Archives: July 2017
Here at the End of All Things: The Big Heir Reveal!
So. That was a fun week, right?
^ What today actually feels like.
No, I didn’t think so. I would like to start off with an apology for leading this expedition to the pits of hell. Even if you aren’t as invested as I am, I’m sure I dragged you through my own anguish with those interim posts.
So please, get yourself a cup of tea, take a bubblebath, or try out my favourite guided meditation. You’ve earned it. Maybe wait until the end of this post, though, because it’s a bit of a stresser in itself.
Update from Purgatory
Scratch that—this is what Hell looks like.
Thank goodness DSLady has fired back some Sunshine and Liebster questions to keep me busy! At this rate, I will have composed an entire autobiography before the results are in.
Look, a Distraction!
Help me, I can’t stop blogging! (Actually, I’m more afraid that if I DO stop, it’ll be five years before I start again.) Either way, I did a thing to kill some time and stop me checking the Devil’s Heir Poll every three minutes.
Approximately ten thousand years ago, Liebster Awards were once again circulating the air ducts of WordPress and three of them landed in the Langurds’ dust trap. (Wow, my analogies need to calm the fuck down.) Thank you to Miss Wingless, FluffyMao, and misterwolfe86 for those! Here are my totally serious answers to their questions:
Wake Me Up When It’s All Over: An Impossible Heir Poll
Alright, comments have been replied to and real world has been confronted (crying over my lack of money counts, right?) so I guess it’s time to post this thing. I’m genuinely terrified, not because there’s anyone I would particularly hate to play but because I’ve never gone into one of these so uncertain of the result. No matter who wins, I’ll be ecstatic that I get to tell their story but also heartbroken that I don’t get to tell the other two. But Gryffindork, you like all three of them so there’s no way you can los— NO GUYS, THIS IS A SERIOUS CRISIS AND I LIKE BEING DRAMATIC.
On that note, for the first time EVAR in Langurd History (woooo fanfare) I’ve decided to picture the heir candidates with their intended spouses, traits and all. Note that LTW’s are irrelevant for now; only Dusty and Delilah have them locked in, and I’ll likely end up changing theirs if they have the points.
Without further ado, here are your choices:
What we’ll see from them:
I picture Kip running a hipster food blog and Jada being an online fitness guru. Visionary? Culinary Librarian? I suspect these two care less about what they do than how good they look doing it. A home stylist business is also a possibility—as is our first monogamous heiress, because let’s face it, these two promise a ton of variety.
What we’ll see from them:
This couple screams university to me. After that, maybe some fun new careers—Delilah wants to be a stylist right now, and I can see Trance as an actor or a cop. Their kids will look weird af and I’m okay with that. Oh, and get ready for a lot more Majestic Swan Trance if I have anything to do with it (which—barring any blog hijackings—I will).
What we’ll see from them:
Star-crossed lovers getting to the bottom of the Quinnspiracy. I have half a mind to throw Dusty in Criminal just to make him more conflicted (elsewise keep him in military because that seems to fit). Siesta will probs do a future-related LTW and have the obligatory daddy issues storyline. Plumbots? Puppies? This pair is a bit of a wildcard tbh.
Kip: Slob, Hates the Outdoors, Adventurous, Photographer’s Eye / Jada: Insane, Athletic, Light Sleeper, Mean-Spirited
Trance: Absent-Minded, Light Sleeper, Daredevil, Schmoozer / Delilah: Disciplined, Clumsy, Never Nude, Friendly
Siesta: Party Animal, Loves the Heat, Bot Fan, Animal Lover / Dusty: Loner, Clumsy, Frugal, Easily Impressed, Kleptomaniac
Poll will be open for 7 days from today unless I decide to extend it!
6.14 Enter Sandman
We did it! We’re here! We can finally put Gen. 6 to sleep! Strangely, after all that talk about being burnt out, I woke up after 4.5 hours all fired up to write the next one. My PC has this weird habit of randomly booting on its own, usually in the middle of the night; at 5:30am I convinced myself that I did it with my mind, took it as a sign, and now here we are.
This one’s a short one and all about the kids, so pack your lunchboxes and brush up on the lingo, fam. It’s lit.
Rhapsody: Fine, bye.
I don’t think Siesta has slept once since becoming a teenager. When her energy turns red, she hits the coffee and just keeps a-rolling until she’s dying again 30 minutes later. This is exactly what Frieda was doing in her final days; needless to say, I’m a little concerned.
Siesta: I’m fiiiiiiiiine.
6.13 Lazy Hazy Crazy
THREE HOURS. This is so not happening. What probably IS happening is that I’ll publish whatever piddly excuse for a chapter I manage to fire out by midnight, and save the rest for a 14th post. My generations have all had an even number of chapters anyway—not that there’s any real reason for that, but why stop now?
Cal: Please no bombs. I don’t wanna deal with fire this chapter.
Fair enough. See you in 6.14!
6.12 Beds Are Burning
Well, here we are at last on July 12th! Happy Birthday Langurds and R.I.P. Sam’s sanity!
I can smell the light at the end of the tunnel (not a typo; caffeine does strange things to your senses) so I’m going to give it my all for these last 13.5 hours. Hopefully without having to cut things in half and without wasting the potential of these screenshots. You are all lovely and supportive and I’m sure it’s only me cracking the whip at this point, but there is no whip more terrifying than the one in my own hands. (Cripes, a few cups of coffee and I’ve turned into Omen?)
Things have been moving pretty fast. Our eldest heir candidate is a teen, our youngest a child, our heiress a middle-aged underachiever, and her ex-husband a corpse.
Only Rhapsody has yet to get a kick in the pants from Father Time. Of course she’s busking in the park when it hits.
Rhapsody: Thanks for coming to celebrate my birthday with me!
Corren: I didn’t. Where’d your guitar go?
6.11 Don’t Blame It on the Moonlight
In my haze of exhaustion last night, I completely failed to acknowledge a feat I have not accomplished since Chapter 1.3: two legit updates in one day! Universally recognized as the first sign of the apocalypse, so start hoarding those cans. Given that in Tewl’s day my average post length was a weak 40-45 screenshots, I think I get to claim victory over myself here.
To celebrate that victory, and because everyone begs for this shit on Leisure Day, the Langurds are opening up their glorious yard for entertaining!
Like any good party, this one begins with a fumbled pizza delivery.
Pizza Girl: Tada! Did some ants order a pizza?
6.10 No Sleep Till Brooklyn
Or rather, the new anthem of my life: “No Sleep Till 6.13.” But don’t ask me to rap; I don’t do that in public.
I didn’t want to jinx myself by mentioning this early on, but if I DO get through seven chapters by Wednesday, that may actually bring us to the end of Calamity’s generation. In other words, we could have an heir poll as early as THREE DAYS FROM NOW WTFBBQ.
That seems like a very short time for our heir hopefuls to develop personalities, hopes, dreams, quirks, flaws, and the kitchen sink, so let’s get cooking, guys!
Kip: I am twelve steps ahead of you.
Kip: Do you want me to elaborate or do you want me to finish these muffins?
She may be the first child in Langurd history to figure her life out so early, and the first Langurd in Langurd history to get gud at cooking. Our little indoorsy slob is going to be a chef. It is known.
6.9 Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under?
Ah yes, finally—a chapter number to match the Langurds’ maturity level. Just in time for…
Wink wink, nudge nudge. But of course, that’s a very sore topic around here with our Gen. 6 OTP fresh off a divorce and trying to cobble their lives back together. R.I.P. Quilamity, you had a good run were never going to make it anyway.
Both parties take some time to focus on themselves, which tbh is basically what they did while married anyway. Calamity spends hers witnessing important milestones.
Cal: Try not to get arrested, okay?
Trance: Sorry Mom, but my coolness is a serious crime.