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?
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: