What the fuck. Where did 2018 go? How is it July? Wasn’t it February like yesterday?
You may have noticed that time is getting away from me these days. No, that’s an understatement. Time is sprinting Bolt-speed toward the airport and hopping a plane to the next galaxy, then laughing at me while I scream “Planes can’t go to outer space!” and my aged bones crumble to dust.
Dramatic, I know. But let me tell you – shit has been going down lately that has me shaking my fist at the world. Dewey, the terrible wonderful cat who owns my soul, recently tested positive to Feline Leukemia. FeLV, while not actually a cancer in cats, is an incurable virus that gradually causes severe (and ultimately fatal) anemia. He’s three and life is unfair. Last week my vet was talking euthanasia, but then his meds seemed to kick in, and he started gaining weight between visits (my little chubber has always excelled in that), so we’re taking things one day at a time. It’s been a fucking rollercoaster and we would both appreciate any positive vibes you can send our way. ❤
On top of working 40-60 hour weeks at the café, I also just finished a certification course and am applying to ESL teaching jobs overseas! It’s exciting but stressful and real decisions scare me. Please don’t ask how this news plays into the news above because that’s a whole other shitshow.
But let’s get down to what you came here for, which is not sad stories, nor career plans, but the mind-numbing idiocy of a family that is now six years old.
You guys voted for this star-crossed lovers business, and honour compels me to deliver on my promises in the fullest way possible. Which means—you guessed it—the Langurds are about to enter that shadowy, foreboding territory we call PLOT.
Don’t worry—Siesta’s generation will be played and written as much by the seat of my pants as the others have been. It’s just that after playing detective so many times in Gen. 6, I felt it would be helpful to put all of my “COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT” moments in one place.
So please humour me as I don my Halloween-store trench coat and cap, and attempt to mash together disjointed happenings into a wad that can conceivably be called “evidence.”
Without further ado, let us open the case!
Look at this fool, trying to hype up her return to the blogosphere by comparing it to a boyband comeback. Despicable.
HEY GUYS 😀
I have completed my yearly bout of falling off the face of the earth! It’s been 10 months and 22 days since I last posted, which I think is pretty standard at this point? However, this year’s unplanned-but-fully-expected hiatus featured some pretty cool things, including a literal departure from the face of the earth. No, I didn’t just jump in the air for a split second, though that totally counts. I’m talking about an actual adventure!
So. That was a fun week, right?
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.
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:
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!
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.
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!
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?