Comrade Duck

whens the last time you smoked reggie LOL

So Literal "Well that speech certainly stirred Lord Dies. Though I can never tell when she's enthused or annoyed," Olivander replied to Flynt's speech. “I am open to notes,” Flynt added. Olivander only shrugged. "I've only written speeches for myself when I've broken the wealth of a monarch. So I can't say I would have much to lend to you," he joked. " ...I do not know what word you will take from this to offer Pfeifer, but you may take any that you wish,” Flynt said. Olivander nodded. "I know what I'm going to give him. In the meantime, I'm going to do some investigating of my own. If Corpus is destined to crumble because its people do not practice faith, then there has to be a reason as to why. I'd like to discover what is keeping them from offering a proper prayer. I'll start with the closest altar." Olivander gave Kitt a heavy pat on the back in approval as he stepped away, then he lay a gentle hand on Flynt's strong shoulders as he passed him by. "Gentlemen. I hope to have some news for you soon," he said, stopping in the doorway. With a cheeky bow, Olivander disappeared out of the doorway and made his way to the town center. Praise Be When Olivander arrived in the town center, he was appalled by what he saw. It was no wonder there was a lack of faith in Corpus, because there was not a temple in sight. A single altar sat in the middle of the village with a roof over it. Besides that, there was no evidence that there was any real effort for faith practice to be had in Corpus. He couldn't hide the frown on his face. He was disappointed with Corpus, and he had only been there a day. With a sigh, he folded his arms. "This is going to take a lot of work."

no more jujutsu kaisen. we already have an rp of that damn you ?

S N O W F L O W E R

This was really enjoyable. The graphics remind me of my early Nintendo days as a kid. Also, poor Butch.

Marching Order "I know we planned on not telling him too much about this...but at the same time...this is...as you and your patron would say, my bargaining chip." Olivander sighed softly as he listened to Kitt. "I'm making a gamble myself...and if he truly has nothing to hide, then my mentor should be able to clear things up. Whatever happens...I'm prepared to take the responsibility for it..." the Forge-dog explained. "What you shouldn't be doing is taking a gamble at the expense of other innocent people's lives," Olivander sneered. "But I trust you." He turned his attention back to Flynt, waiting to hear his response. He appeared unfazed by the barrage of questioning, which concerned Olivander more. “I said it was wishful thinking, didn’t I?" Flynt repeated. "That you wish us gone makes me distrust you a lot more," Olivander thought to himself. "This is what happens when you don’t tell me things, you know. I get confused," Flynt went on. This only made Olivander angry. But he couldn't show it. He couldn't allow himself to get played by these deflections. There was too much at stake. He remained silent still, listening to Flynt's explanation on the history and power of this ancient language. 'Words of power', he called them. " ...these words of power are the language of the gods. The language of creation, from which Naviim was wrought. You can imagine why any word from such a language not given proper care would be dangerous." "I wonder. Is that because the words are not spoken by holy tongues or because the divine never meant for these words to reach the ears of men?" Olivander mused aloud. " ...I will simply add this before letting you continue as you like: their appearance on this plane, some argue, is a signal of the gods’ waning influence. Götterdämmerung, they say. The twilight of the gods.” "Twilight of the gods? When the world is neither most lit nor most dark. A perfect balance of some kind? But if it is the 'twilight' of the 'gods', does this mean there will be a change in the gods here in our world? Or perhaps a change in their world, where we cannot see?" Olivander asked, his lips moving faster than his mind. "This only leaves me with more questions, dammit," he swore. There were many implications to the phrase 'twilight of the gods' from Olive's perspective. But he could not make sense of them now. He would have to learn much more. Which led Olivander to his next sudden genius idea, on how to better probe the situation. "Master Flynt," he said as he raised his head to look the older watchdog in the eye. "Since Old Man Jones, I assume, did not relent, would you care to share your speech with us? I still owe Pfeifer a 'word', and I'd like to pick your brain if you don't mind," he said with a cheeky smile, his eyes full of lust. "I don't suppose any harm could come if what you said is true. Not to mention, there's no need to allow a great speech to go to waste." "Your move, old man," Olivander thought.

Edit: 9/21/2021 Kolby has been removed and replaced. Maali - The Molten Fortress "It's a part of me. I'm going to make it my own." Maali was born with a disability in her right leg. At birth, due to infection, it had to be removed immediately. As a result, she has gotten around most of her life with a wheelchair, crutches, or a cane. Her disability is a part of her identity, as much as the texture of her hair or the color of her skin. Maali is an Indigenous girl who has spent most of her youth home schooled. Her mother, Animkii, and her father, Namid, are both promising engineers. Even as young parents, both of them being only thirty while Maali is age 10, they have found a way to keep a perfect balance in their small home. Animkii and Namid have made many changes to their home over the years to assist and aid Maali in adapting to her surroundings. They replaced any stairs with ramps and placed more lift bars and cranes where she needs them. Maali, however, being the bright, forward girl that she is, doesn't want to rely on lifts, cranes, and ramps. Inspired by her parents, she has been studying their work and wishes to become an engineer as well. She has a strong desire to research mechanical, electrical, and computer engineering. And though Namid is concerned that Maali may overwhelm herself with so many goals, he is learning to trust in his daughter's ability to not only decide things for herself, but to study them at her pace and to become successful in doing so. Little did Namid know, Maali would soon find a way to work through and with her disability. Over the course of two years, with diligent study, hundreds of hours of research, hundreds more hours of design and planning, Maali completed designs for mechanical leg that would not only replace her own, but be fully functional in all aspects of her life that she required it for. When she finally presented the design to her mother and father, they were both ecstatic. They immediately began to take her through the process of getting a patent before putting the work into action. Eight months later, Maali's design was brought to fruition exactly as she had planned it. The surgery to attach the mechanical leg to her body was a success, and Maali was able to walk thanks to her own incredible efforts. At twelve years old, she had now developed what would soon become the future of prosthetics everywhere to change the lives of all disabled peoples who needed them. Unfortunately for Maali, her plans would have to wait. Bombs had begun to fall. Jasmine Evelynn Troy - A Concussive Wave "I don't like to wait. I like to keep a schedule and do things right the first time. Anything else is just lazy." Generation after generation of Jasmine's family has been apart of the United States military in one of many of its branches. Marines, Navy Pilots, Navy Seals, Green Berets, and many others lined the ranks of her family. Born to Gerald and Letitia Troy, Jasmine found her calling as a Navy SEAL operative. Jasmine was at the age of seven when her military interest kicked in. Her mother, who was a Navy Pilot, and her father, who was a Marine, took quick advantage of her interests and groomed her into a machine over the course of ten years. Even throughout her time in high school, Jasmine's focus was to become the next line of military personnel in the Troy family. She aligned more closely to her mother, and this led her to choose a path in the Navy. With outstanding and record breaking scores in physical, intellectual, and practical applications, Jasmine was quickly noticed by her higher-ups and called forth to be a SEAL operative. She survived the grueling six month training of Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL training and graduated to become a full Navy SEAL operative. By request of the secretary of defense, she was made a part of the highly classified SEAL Team Six, also known as DEVGRU. She had accomplished all of this by the age of twenty-five and was regarded as one of the most rapidly growing SEAL operatives to date, earning her the nickname, "J.E.T." In 2025, her squadron was given a special assignment that would require them to partner with other elite task forces from around the globe. Russia's Spetsnaz, Canada's Joint Task Force 2, China's Falcon Commando Unit, France's COS, Africa's SFB, and many others gathered in an undisclosed location to battle what would be identified only as "an upcoming and imminent threat to the world over". The worlds most elite soldiers gathered secretly to prepare for a battle that would require them to work together, despite their affiliations and differences. This threat would be coming from the depths of space, and preparation time was crucial. They had only days to gather their strength and gear before being tasked with being the first force to combat the unknown. Whatever was coming their way was highly intelligent, battle ready, and extremely deadly. This newly found unit, dubbed, United Earth Special Forces -- or UESF for short -- was the first and last of its kind. They would be tasked with combating the enemy on Earth and in space. As the enemy's first crafts were detected, the UESF met them head-on just a few hundred miles outside of Earth's atmosphere. The event disguised their assault as a shower of meteors, numbering in the hundreds. They fought valiantly, but despite their training and technology, they were rapidly overwhelmed. A tactical retreat was ordered to return to Earth, but the UESF was too late as the enemy approached from all sides of the planet. The world was quickly being overrun and Jasmine was desperately making her way back to the surface. However, Jasmine could only look on helplessly as her ship burned in the atmosphere. Explosions rocked the world as bombs began to fall.

Excluding movies and the "end" of COVID, what are you most looking forward to this year?

what the fuck does this even mean if you gon be racist at least dont hide it. stop being a bitch

Whatchu doing to celebrate? What's your favorite kind of cake? What's the cheapest gift you could get that would have the most impact on you right now? What's the most expensive gift you could get that you would probably return? What's your most fond birthday memory?

Anastasiya Alexeyev - The Coldest Will "The will of the people is my will. The proletariat will no longer suffer beneath the boots of the bourgeois." Michail and Zasha Alexeyev were very well known peoples throughout much of Russia. Hailing from Yekaterinburg, they were both powerful leaders whose charisma and ideologies reverberated throughout the land. A long history of the oppression of the poor and working class people brought them together. Through their similar circumstances, they found that they shared a common mind and a common enemy. In the winter of 1974, they formed a coalition together with the people of Yekaterinburg. Starting small, they banded together with one hundred others in an attempt to release the people from the vice-grip of the ruling class. From the slums, they climbed out together, hand-in-hand, consciously with their fellow working class peoples, and began to break apart the ranks of the enemy, a piece at a time. In the winter of 1999, Zasha gave birth to Anastasiya. Her cold, icy blue eyes and her white hair were unusual, but her nose was much like her mother's. These two moments would coincide together to change the fate of the people and the Alexeyev family for years to come. On the day of Anastasiya's birth, Michail was racing home to his wife when he was offered a ride by two men he had fought side by side with for three years: Dimitri Padlov and Sacha Chugunov. On their way back to his home, when out of reach and out of site of Michail's comrades, Dimitri and Sacha kidnapped Michail. He would never arrive home. When word of his disappearance got back to the people, their morale began to fall. Alone, Zasha tried to keep the people strong and together. She championed her daughter to take her father's place as their leader. However, this critical blow to the people sapped their strength and allowed discord to fester among them. This gave the enemy their perfect opportunity to strike. As the people slowly began to lose faith, more seeds of corruption were sewn. Violence against the poor began to rise. Communities began to splinter. Camaraderie slowly waned. The years seemed to trickle blood from the life of the people, slowly bleeding them of vital resources and power. In 2004, a new power came to be over the Russian people: Timofey Chugunov. And for the next fifteen years, he would reign supreme over the Russian people with his son by his side. The Chugunov Empire was a mighty one. With influence all over the world, ranging from China to the United States. However, the rebel in young Anastasiya would grow rapidly, with her mother showing her the way. Taking her mother's place would not be an easy task, but by 2019, Anastasiya had become public enemy number one, to the state. Her crimes against the ruling regime -- from destruction of property, vandalism, communing without permit, illegal water sourcing, theft, brandishing a weapon in public, and much more -- had her face plastered across many wanted posters throughout the country. Unfortunately for the state, Anastasiya was protected by the people. She had already proved to be elusive, but having the working class and the poor behind her made her that much harder to apprehend. Over the next six years, Anastasiya had solidified her place all across Russia. She had become something of a legend, having turned the state's power, albeit slowly, on its head. During this time, she established the New Revolutionary Coalition for the People, or NRCP. Inside of this coalition, she had even begun to turn allies of the state against the ruling class. She had recruited a small number of politicians whom she managed to flip, and turned them into spies for the NRCP. Supplies and power began to flow back toward the people, and the time for the inevitable uprising had finally come. The year was now 2025. The streets were flooded by the proletariat, with as many boots on the ground as the state had soldiers. Unfortunately, the time for revolution would have to wait, as the bombs began to fall. Pierre Jourdain - The Bellowing Wind "Music is to me like breath is to the lungs. Like blood to the heart. It is everything." A young prodigy, Pierre Jourdain was born in 1994 to his mother, Eloise Jourdain in Toulouse, France. Though young, Eloise was a promising and talented ballerina in her early twenties. Even after giving birth to Pierre, she never lost her way on stage. By the time Pierre was five years old, Eloise was turning into a prominent soloist. With breakout shows all over France, Eloise had made it big. But with that stardom, she sometimes lost sight of her son. She was away often, leaving Pierre with a sitter or relative for weeks at a time. She had a bubbling, bursting career that demanded every moment of her time, and it kept her from giving Pierre the love and attention that she wanted him to have. At ten years old, Pierre had seen very few of his mother's performances. For those he did attend, he always sat as close to the stage as possible, but not for the reasons you may think. Though he admired his mother's work, his biggest reason for sitting at the stage was to best hear the music. Jazz and opera were his first loves, but Pierre quickly became pulled into the music world for its artistry. And on his eleventh birthday, his mother gifted him a fine violin. That moment would be solidified in his memory for many decades to come, as he then learned of his talent for the instrument. Pierre, however, wasn't solely blessed with talents behind the violin. He began to pick up other instruments with great ease. The piano, the harp, the keyboard, the electric guitar, the bass, a snare drum, the cymbals, and many more instruments came to Pierre over his young life. He was redefining music with his abilities, and the world was taking notice. And when Pierre could find no other instrument he wished to master, he turned himself into the greatest instrument of all time as he learned to sing. At twenty-four, he was performing solo in some of the most high-profile operas in all of France. He received invitations to work at Julliard and The Conservatoire de Paris. His brown eyes and black hair and his tall, slim figure were in high demand all around the world now, and his mother had never been more proud. Having earned an early retirement, she began to attend all of Pierre's performances around the world. There was no show she had missed in over six years. And now, at twenty-eight years old, Pierre had performed hundreds of times across the globe. There was almost no one who didn't know who he was. Despite his fame and his developing fortune, Pierre was not yet satisfied. He wasn't longing for companionship, but he had an itch he could not scratch. There was something more he was meant to do, but he couldn't figure out what it was that called out to him. He took a year hiatus from the world. He fell completely off the radar, never stepping back into the public eye. Only his mother ever knew his whereabouts. For a time, he resided just off the waters in Corsica, not far from home. He purchased a small, modest home that gave him the privacy he wanted. He used his time to meditate and study. Over two years he tried to pick up a new topic or hobby every week. Unfortunately, nothing filled him the way music did. For a brief time, he had given up on filling the void that he felt in the pit of his stomach. At last, he finally realized he had overlooked the one thing he hadn't done yet: directing music. And when it came to him, he felt a chord being struck in his brain. His eyes were big with excitement, and he couldn't believe that he had overlooked it for so long. Excitedly, at the end of his two year stint in 2025, he called his mother to break the news to her. Ecstatic, he returned to Toulouse where he announced publicly that he would be flying out to New York and purchasing a home so that he could study more at the school of Julliard in order to become a director. Unfortunately, Pierre's next venture would have to wait, as the bombs began to fall.

Crisis Not Quite Averted "There's something else going on here on this island...and I don't think it's the same horror that we witnessed on Galatea," Kitt explained. That didn't exactly ease Olivander's mind. All it did was make him more anxious about the threat possibly being unknown entirely. "...and I've yet to see anyone in a 'stone garden', if you catch my drift." "Bit on the nose, but yes, I understand," Olivander replied. "Flynt...if what Olive is saying is correct, what were you going to tell the townsfolk?" Well, as Kitt mentioned, there was no reason for Pfeifer to lie. But, what if there was more than one threat? What if things were not as they seemed? All of this guessing was making things much more stressful. Olivander was very on edge, and easily agitated at this point. Thankfully, the handsome Flynt was there to soothe him and shed some light on the subject. “If I can offer my own guess as to what you have experienced, and what you think is going on on my- on this island as well, I would say you have encountered a word of power and witnessed its misuse. I can understand your hesitation to tell me such things -- that’s good. Those of lesser will, even other watchdogs, might have failed there. I will do you the courtesy of not prying further, lest some unfortunate syllables slip from your mouths. That being said, I would answer questions you might have about them; I know a little more than most.” From Olivander's perspective, Flynt seemed to be quite stalwart. He was confident in his place on this island, which was only boasted by the way that the townsfolk addressed and referred to him. Or was Olivander just lost in his charm and good looks? They weren't mutually exclusive... “I was never planning a speech tonight,” Flynt explained. “I have one planned for if Old Man Jones finally relents, including a prayer to Dies to let that storm surrounding the island finally pass that I am particularly proud of, but, as you have witnessed, Kitt, I do not believe that to be happening anytime soon. Tonight I was planning to spend in the comfort of my own home, after seeing honored guests on their way, provided Helmsley gets that wreck of a boat fixed in time.” Olivander folded his arms. Something about that last line didn't quite sit right with him, but he tried his best to keep his composure. "Seeing us off so soon? Why the rush, Master Flynt? Surely we aren't causing you any harm with our presence here," Olivander said as he sipped his water.

A railgun

Very good! This is gonna be great!

It's a fucking terrible anime. That's what I mean.

Evangelion, unfortunately. Took me down a rabbit hole.