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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.

domybest

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.

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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.

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2.1 Rising from the Ashes

Hello, and welcome back! It’s been way too long since the last chapter, but what else is new? I hope everyone is enjoying their summer simming. 😀

When I last showed my face on the interwebs, it was to officially conclude the first generation and elect the newest lord of Langurd. And so here you have them, ladies and gentlemen: your crown prince and his queen-to-be.

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Yes, you’ve come to the right blog. And no, Tewlgana haven’t adopted. Baldy and Brunette here are the result of a series of updates, errors, and incompatible downloads, topped off with the complete reinstallation that seems to be customary every time I return from a break. After everything my game went through, it’s a wonder they even have eyes and noses. But the point is, we’re back! With plenty of screenshots to caption and exciting stuff ahead. Yeah… I may or may not have played through all of the next generation in less than a week. Self-discipline, you say? Never heard of it.

Razor: Jesus, Ara. You know there’s this thing called a shower?

Arabella: Actually, I believe what you smell is your sex appeal seeping out by the gallon.

Yeah, Mr. Not-So-Clean. Go find yourself a toupee or something.

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