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.

4.18 To Infinity and Beyond

This is it! THE LAST MELON— er, chapter of the generation. In 73 short screenshots, we will finally be moving on. As if the universe couldn’t stand for that to happen, I slammed my left hand in a car door yesterday. Soooo we’re gonna find out how funny I can be while typing one-handed.

Spoiler alert: Not very.

We’ll begin with Motherless Mandrake a.k.a. Mediocre Mandrake a.k.a. Lettuce Loins Langurd. Despite all the unfortunate titles, he has a new flirt.

Mandrake: What am I wearing right now? Well, it’s hard to explain.

The lucky guy is Rickey Lynne-Hudson, born of simself incest. He was dating my own simself’s son for a while, but little Andrew got his ass dumped. That’s my boy!

4.17 Robots in Disguise

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.

4.12 My Baby All Gone

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.

3.1 Terra Incognita

Holy moly, generation three! I’ve been procrastinating writing this because it actually feels like progress. Until I remember that I started this legacy 18 months ago, not to mention I started attempting legacies when I was a preteen. Then it just feels pathetic.

A quick note: Thank you all for voting in the heir poll! In case you missed the mini-post, Katana won. By a landslide. Lance did so poorly I’m tempted to rookie haze her.

Another note: School has returned with a vengeance, but this time my courses are all—would you believe it?—really enjoyable, so it’s gonna be a challenge on more than one level to tear myself away and procrastiblog. Yes, I am kidding myself. I will, of course, be shirking my studies wherever possible. Still, when your prof integrates this video into a lecture in a meaningful way, you can’t not do the readings.

I DIGRESS (as per usual). Time to kick this generation’s ass. But first, a word from our retiring torchbearers…

Arabella: Peace at last! I am so relieved I could just fart sparkles!

Razor: I am honoured to be a part of this manly, manly picture.

Fun fact—I call them “retiring torchbearers” but neither has fulfilled a LTW as of yet, because they are useless because their LTW’s are a bitch and a half. Thus, as sick of them as we may be, they still have some screen time to look forward to.