What up, Simming World? I am pleased to announce that, after 1,118 days abroad, I am finally back in Canada and reunited with my beautiful, wonderful, absolute hunk of a PC. ❤
He’s been carefully preserved in a
carbonite slab garbage bag inside a room that, during the last three years, has accumulated far less dust than my lungs did in Seoul.
After a tentative foray into the game, I can confirm that my saves are (mostly) booting, my CC is intact, and my mods are not crying out for updates. Probably because NraaS stopped updating in like 2018, but I digress.
I am less pleased to announce that I still have like ten posts’ worth of old crap to slog through before I can actually do anything with those saves. Who had money on “Gryff renews contract TWICE and still doesn’t run out of content”? Most of you, I presume.
Previously, Siesta and Dusty’s quads aged out of puddinghood and into fully-fledged faces of their own. Allow me to reintroduce them.
Here we have Darth Maul…
…and a dolphin sprouting majestically from her butt.
Kiko: I’ll take it.
And so we go where no Langurd has gone before—and probably much, much farther, but let’s take this one chapter at a time.
Previously, Tonu became a teen. I don’t remember his new trait, nor is it particularly relevant thanks to the constant fuckery of Unstable.
The only thing I can be sure of is that he definitely has a crush on Butler June.
Tonu: I’m a turtle eating waffles.
June: That’s nice. I’m a butler eating cake.
Jeez Kau, what’s got your suspenders in a knot?
Kau: I just found out there are at least TWO empty beds in this house.
Kau: …and I’m SO happy to keep sleeping in my roof tent even though it’s winter. I love it SO MUCH.Read the rest of this entry
Hello again! Seems like all I do these days is blog. Just as it should be, since I checked the archives and apparently this generation alone has taken me over a year to write. How? HOW? That’s 1/3 of the time this blog has been alive. What is it about Katana’s children that have made things so difficult?
Don’t answer that.
Thanks again to everyone who read the birthday posts. I know it was a lot to get through, but the party isn’t over! Oh no, keep your dancing feet warm because it’s Christmas in July! This post would have made sense if I’d stuck to the schedule dammit
Teqeq: Do you like what I’ve done with my hair? I hear chicks dig the flow.
And since Snowflake Day is a time for family, we invited all the relatives we could think of. Birth certificates/paternity tests required at the door.
Twist it! Pull it! Flick it!
But hey, now that I’ve ruined that for you, let me… ruin lots of other things as well. Welcome back to the Langurds!
Lira: I am Mrs. Nesbitt!
We already did that.
Lira: But the readers liked it!
That doesn’t mean we get to repeat stuff.
Lira: Uh, yeah. It’s called a SEQUEL.
Okay, fine. Presenting: “Lira Drinks Tea 2: This Time with Wings.”
^ ^ Hopefully this post doesn’t do anything of the sort.
But hey, just in case, I take no responsibility for any drool damage to your keyboards.
Last time, Death struck the Langurd house twice in as many hours, leaving Boa and Weston wifeless. It was a rough blow for both of the men, but apparently I’m starting this chapter with Lira because I have no sympathy.
Lira: Rockabye baby, in the spaceship…
Nice try — there’s no wind in space.
Gumby: Heehee, you said “wind”!
And you’d best enjoy it while you can, little buddy…
(NOTE: Chapter 4.12 went up less than 24 hours ago, so make sure you don’t skip over it by mistake! I only say this because back-to-back posts are unheard of for me, so I wouldn’t blame you for clicking the first post you see in the Reader Feed. :P)
Goodness gracious, I just looked through the screenshots for this chapter and we have a lot to get through. Don’t scroll ahead because some of it is big and game-changing. If you do scroll ahead, you’re probably the kind of person who skipped to the end of Harry Potter Six, so kindly let me know to un-friend you. What do you mean there’s no friend system on WordPress? The sentiment is there, okay? I will un-friend you in my heart.
But not actually because it’s your life, and this is a legacy for crying out loud, not Harry Potter.
Newsman: And finally, birdwatchers everywhere have reported that the nation’s owls have been behaving very unusually today. Do not be alarmed if a strange man in a cloak drops a scarred infant on your doorstep in the middle of the night.
Balboa: Malissa, dear — what’s the name of your nephew again?
Malissa: Gumby. Nasty, common name if you ask me.
(Now exiting the parallel universe where “Gumby” is a common name.)
Lt. Surge: Greetings, scum. As the master of this household, I have taken over narration duties for the time being. The coup was easy; Sam is a creature of very little willpower, known to melt in the presence of cats. She lets us sleep in her clean laundry and chew on her headphone cords because she doesn’t have the heart to tell us no. All I had to do was sit up here and make this face, and she immediately bumped my picture to the top of the chapter. Pathetic.
You know how when people live together, their cycles sync up? Apparently, I’ve been “living” with the Langurds for too long, because I’m experiencing a severe case of simulative synchrony. (Why yes, I coined that term myself just now.)
Just like Boa, Lira, and the rest, your Director of Shenanigans is now officially a Gryffindor graduate! Discovery: the door clusterfuck is a myth. In fact, the whole process was highly streamlined and efficient and the worst nightmare of a socially awkward person. Why am I telling you guys this? I’m pretty sure 80% of my readership is older and more life-experienced than I am. Which is an interesting story, but seeing as I haven’t finished this one…
Isn’t that the most accurate description of the Langurds you’ve ever heard?
For the record, if I get this chapter out by Tuesday, I’ll have done seven posts in two weeks. That might just qualify as a miracle.
Where were we? Oh yeah, still at university. For this whole chapter and like half of the next one. I’m sorry, but it can’t be helped when our bright young minds are keeping so busy!
Prof. Richards: You see, a corporation is like a colony of honeybees! Everyone has a task to do, but in the end you’ll just die among the flowers or with your butt stuck in the arm of a pesky human.
I can smell the sarcasm.
AND WE’RE BACK with another instalment of “We could be on Generation 8 by now but Sam is a lame-o storyteller so let us waste time and frolic.”
It’s a fine day for frolicking, with the sun in the sky and the azaleas in bloom and the world’s dumbest roommates canoodling in the background.
Garrison: I’ll kiss anything that breathes.
Tammy: I make drama for kicks.
Garrison: Let us tango.
Lev: God, I really can’t get away from it.