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?

6.9 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.

6.8 No Sugar Tonight in My Coffee

Round of applause for Gryffindork tanking her self-imposed mission in less than 48 hours. It’s not my fault, guys. Failure radiates from my very being. My friend asked me to look after her betta fish this week, and he literally died on my watch.

But in the words of a misguided Death Eater (and a really dated reference), IT’S NOT OVER YET! This seven-posts-in-a-week thing can still be a thing. I’ll just have to double up one day, which is totally doable. /delusion

Last time, a trilogy of Ghost Crises caused all sorts of rule breaking and left me wishing for several plates of ambrosia, which I then remembered is also against the rules. Basically, things are going great and everyone is really happy.

A fine time to check in with the one who started it all.

Quinn: Inspector Flanagan reporting for duty, sir.

Tewl: Well well well. So dis is da new man of da house.

6.6 Rockabye Baby

If that title doesn’t tell you we’re getting to the good stuff, then let me tell you right now—we’re getting to the good stuff!

Last time, Gumby finally died but Frieda’s Gold Digger LTW still registered as incomplete. Shit was lost; tables were very nearly flipped. Now we take deep breaths and try to figure out the meaning of this.

Frieda: Yes hello, I’d like to request a refund on my life.

6.5 They All Rolled Over and One Fell Out

Fact: Canada as a nation turns 150 this July.

Fact: Eleven days later, this blog will turn 5.

Fact: I have been writing this blog for more than 3% of Canada’s existence.

Fact?: One day, I will compose an intro that isn’t a rehashed version of “legacy take long time, Gryffindork slow.”

Let’s get down to business to defeat the Huns. After far too much trolling, Quinn Flanagan has finally succumbed to Calamity’s good looks and agreed to date her… all while she’s been under an ugly spell. Figures.

Calamity: Face it, I’d be the most low maintenance girlfriend ever.

Quinn: You’re not wrong.

Meanwhile, Omen’s chess opponents keep getting glued to the upholstery after beating him.

Maeve: Gee, I’m getting sleepy.

6.4 Once Upon a Nightmare

Funny story. So I’m at this quiet writing session at a local café, determined to pen some legacy words for the first time in three months. So far, I’ve stared at this page for a solid twenty minutes, trying to convince myself that I can write without caffeine. I can’t figure out where the self-serve coffee is, and the only way to find it is by blindly wandering through a minefield of easily-disturbed introverts.

Needless to say, addiction won out over anxiety (this time) and I made the expedition. Turns out it was ten steps long and only involved eye contact with like three people, but I still feel accomplished.

Now that we know how pathetic I am, let me remind you all what happened at the end of last chapter.

Frieda: What is that thing cleaning up our dishes? Did you buy an ogre slave?

Sky: Oh, that’s your son. I made him ugly so he can find his inner beauty and stuff.

6.2 Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Happy October 13th! Today (which is likely long before I will actually post this) marks three important occasions:

1) The 22nd birthday of my K-Pop bias, but let’s not get into that

2) The end of a year-long slap bet of which I am commissioner (meaning four of my guy friends are now free to get haircuts, thank god)

3) The awkward moment when we learn that, even with a fire up her butt, Gryffindork is an incorrigibly lazy S.O.B.

Well, guess what? Now it’s the last day of October, and I think it’s safe to say SimNaWriMo has me beat. To a pulp. But we will press on, and turn that pulp into paper!

*excuses self to vomit at own pun*

Now, where were we? Ah yes, in the pits of despair after Pokey’s silent passing.

Axorn: MY SOUL IS COLD AND EMPTY LIKE THE NIGHT

Gumby: What’s got him so upset?

…Did no one tell Gumby yet?! Well fuck, I’m certainly not doing it.

6.1 Wake Me Up When September Ends

Want to know what it takes for me to be productive these days? I am finally penning the first words of a post I’ve had prepped for three months, and only because…

a) Boolprop is running a marathon updating event where I get a shiny medal if I publish 3-10 of these bitches in October (spoiler: it won’t be 10)

b) My bedroom no longer gets a wi-fi signal thanks to the mythical router upstairs, which I am beginning to suspect is just a pair of rabbit ears stuck in a potato. This has cut me off from my #1 hobby of watching related YouTube videos until I can’t remember where I started or why I exist.

c) Yesterday’s quidditch tournament has rendered my every muscle completely useless, so I literally couldn’t do anything else even if I wanted to.

Why am I like this? D:

Anyhow, the stars have finally aligned—so here I am, making a start on GENERATION SIX!

We mark this milestone with a big “fuck you” to Isla Paradiso as we ship off to the Valley of Dragons.

DV greets us with an equivalent “fuck you” in the form of rain.

Civil War: Generation Six Heir Poll

I’m barely awake enough to keep my fingers on the keyboard, so the pictures will have to speak for themselves. They can do that for me, after all the work I put into them.

Oh, don’t mind the missing favourites. My notes were spectacularly shoddy this generation, so I don’t have a lot of this stuff written down. But it’s not like you’re picking an heir based on their favourite food, right?

…

RIGHT???

5.14 Tentative Conclusion

Buckle ur seatbelts kiddos for u r about to read the most half-assed Langurd chapter ever written. I am so over Generation Five.

What’s that? Hold on a sec…

What do you mean this is my 100th post?! You mean I actually have to TRY? I’m not ready for this, dammit! I’m drinking mocha with Bailey’s and watching Project Runway out of my left eye!

Maybe that’s fitting, given that multitasking is the theme of this generation. And it’s been a successful theme if I may say so myself—all of the kids are (oxy)moronic in their own ways, but no one emblemizes the Age of Contradictions quite like Crash does. Athletic and a Genius, non-verbal and a total loose cannon… Oh, and his teen look may be based on this shit disturber: