"Come on! The idea here was to not be arrested." - Me
"Yeah, with you there is always a chance of being arrested." - My Friend

NNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

What was the incident at your school

spinal meningitis

pila: we can’t tell anybody else about this
virna: i only told cam
cam: and i only told scor
scor: and i told many, many people

ah yes a character shitpost, classic ellie

"Lysander Dumont," Rosalind announced to the crowd, "will be dueling against Ronan Carinter." Lysander gave a small gasp. Ronan was easily a head taller than him and likely in his twenties already. He desperately searched the crowds for Ayla, his eyes pleading her to stop this madness. She looked worried, stood huddled close to Carrie and to Adalia, but made no move to stop the duel. He forced himself to trudge into the arena, where Ronan stared at him from across the yards of sand between them, which was both too much for him to sprint across and too little for him to have time to devise a plan. A bell rang out and suddenly Ronan charged forward, drawing his sword. Lysander managed a parry, the clash of the swords sending a shiver through his bones. Ronan struck again, this time knocking Lysander flat on his backside. He bounced right back up, swinging out at Ronan in a vain attempt to phase him before Ronan dug the tip of his sword right above Lysander's knee. Lysander let out a small whimper and swung back, his sword barely grazing Ronan's bicep. The older man barely seemed to register the small injury and slashed Lysander across the forearm. Lysander yelped as his sword dropped from his hand and drew his arm close to his chest.

"Do you give up yet?" Ronan sneered. He should. He should give up, acknowledge that he couldn't win this. Lysander steeled himself against the gnawing critiques and picked up his sword with his other hand, swinging wildly at Ronan. Every staggering step made pain shoot through his knee, every wayward slash sending a tremor through him, but he kept moving. Ronan struck forward, the flat of his blade slamming into Lysander's chest. The boy fell to the ground again, one hand pressed against his ribs, his pale green eyes steeped in determination. He stood up once more, now pained by every labored breath. He'd be covered in bruises and cuts tomorrow, but if he won this fight, if he could prove himself….it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He made the mistake to pause, to imagine how proud Ayla would be of him when he won, and let his guard down. Which gave Ronan the perfect chance to knock him to the ground yet again. He heard a sickening crack as Ronan's sword collided with his chest for the second time, heard the noise before he felt the pain. He didn't try to get up this time, just curled into a small ball in the sand. Ronan stood above him, his sword still raised.

"Please," Lysander whispered, and Ronan ignored him, knocking him out with a swift blow to the head.

He wasn't out for long, and when he looked back up, Ronan looked prepared to do it again. He raised his sword above his head, and Lysander's breathing quickened, tears forming in his eyes. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, both of the public humiliation and the pain. Every breath was agony, and blood seeped into the sand from the gashes in his leg and forearm. He squeezed his eyes almost shut, the tears sliding down his face, curled his legs closer to his throbbing chest. He caught a glimpse of sun reflecting off of the blade of Ronan's sword as it began its descent, but a regal voice called out.

"That is enough!" Ayla shouted, storming towards them both. "I don't care if this is some competition, you've beaten the boy badly enough already!" She knelt beside him, wrapped her arm around him. "Leave my apprentice alone." All of the tears Lysander had been holding back came then, the near-convulsive sobbing spreading agony through his chest, but he didn't care. It was over.

Ronan left in a huff, and Ayla gingerly lifted Lysander to his feet.

"Thank you," he whispered, avoiding her gaze.

"It was merely my job, Lysander."

"Even now?" He asked, louder than he would've liked. "Even now that I lost? I made a fool of myself, and you'll keep me as an apprentice?"

"Rosalind made a fool of you. You did as well as I would have expected you to," Ayla answered. Lysander frowned to himself. All of his studying, all of the training and practice he had put in, and she had still expected him to lose? His expression must have said as much, because Ayla smiled at him.

"Ronan is a very skilled member of the guard. He's fought by Rosalind's side since she was a mercenary. You may not have won, but you demonstrated an important piece of your training."

"What piece? That I'm above average at being utterly humiliated?"
"No," Ayla said, and Lysander had the feeling she was talking to the both of them, "That you can take a beating and still bounce back up. Now let's have your injuries tended to."

My voice

My voice

Idk sounds about right to me. Now what would really shock you guys is my voice.

Mes volez dire ce que vaut?

Saw two cars sitting next to each other. One pulled over. The other next to it not pulled over but on the side. First thoughts drug deal

"Lysander Dumont," Rosalind announced to the crowd, "will be dueling against Ronan Carinter." Lysander gave a small gasp. Ronan was easily a head taller than him and likely in his twenties already. He desperately searched the crowds for Ayla, his eyes pleading her to stop this madness. She looked worried, stood huddled close to Carrie and to Adalia, but made no move to stop the duel. He forced himself to trudge into the arena, where Ronan stared at him from across the yards of sand between them, which was both too much for him to sprint across and too little for him to have time to devise a plan. A bell rang out and suddenly Ronan charged forward, drawing his sword. Lysander managed a parry, the clash of the swords sending a shiver through his bones. Ronan struck again, this time knocking Lysander flat on his backside. He bounced right back up, swinging out at Ronan in a vain attempt to phase him before Ronan dug the tip of his sword right above Lysander's knee. Lysander let out a small whimper and swung back, his sword barely grazing Ronan's bicep. The older man barely seemed to register the small injury and slashed Lysander across the forearm. Lysander yelped as his sword dropped from his hand and drew his arm close to his chest.

"Do you give up yet?" Ronan sneered. He should. He should give up, acknowledge that he couldn't win this. Lysander steeled himself against the gnawing critiques and picked up his sword with his other hand, swinging wildly at Ronan. Every staggering step made pain shoot through his knee, every wayward slash sending a tremor through him, but he kept moving. Ronan struck forward, the flat of his blade slamming into Lysander's chest. The boy fell to the ground again, one hand pressed against his ribs, his pale green eyes steeped in determination. He stood up once more, now pained by every labored breath. He'd be covered in bruises and cuts tomorrow, but if he won this fight, if he could prove himself….it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He made the mistake to pause, to imagine how proud Ayla would be of him when he won, and let his guard down. Which gave Ronan the perfect chance to knock him to the ground yet again. He heard a sickening crack as Ronan's sword collided with his chest for the second time, heard the noise before he felt the pain. He didn't try to get up this time, just curled into a small ball in the sand. Ronan stood above him, his sword still raised.

"Please," Lysander whispered, and Ronan ignored him, knocking him out with a swift blow to the head.

He wasn't out for long, and when he looked back up, Ronan looked prepared to do it again. He raised his sword above his head, and Lysander's breathing quickened, tears forming in his eyes. He wasn't sure how much more he could take, both of the public humiliation and the pain. Every breath was agony, and blood seeped into the sand from the gashes in his leg and forearm. He squeezed his eyes almost shut, the tears sliding down his face, curled his legs closer to his throbbing chest. He caught a glimpse of sun reflecting off of the blade of Ronan's sword as it began its descent, but a regal voice called out.

"That is enough!" Ayla shouted, storming towards them both. "I don't care if this is some competition, you've beaten the boy badly enough already!" She knelt beside him, wrapped her arm around him. "Leave my apprentice alone." All of the tears Lysander had been holding back came then, the near-convulsive sobbing spreading agony through his chest, but he didn't care. It was over.

Ronan left in a huff, and Ayla gingerly lifted Lysander to his feet.

"Thank you," he whispered, avoiding her gaze.

"It was merely my job, Lysander."

"Even now?" He asked, louder than he would've liked. "Even now that I lost? I made a fool of myself, and you'll keep me as an apprentice?"

"Rosalind made a fool of you. You did as well as I would have expected you to," Ayla answered. Lysander frowned to himself. All of his studying, all of the training and practice he had put in, and she had still expected him to lose? His expression must have said as much, because Ayla smiled at him.

"Ronan is a very skilled member of the guard. He's fought by Rosalind's side since she was a mercenary. You may not have won, but you demonstrated an important piece of your training."

"What piece? That I'm above average at being utterly humiliated?"
"No," Ayla said, and Lysander had the feeling she was talking to the both of them, "That you can take a beating and still bounce back up. Now let's have your injuries tended to."

Dude is this a part of your story or something?? Because I really love it

She layed in her pitch black armor with her platinum hair lifeless in the never dying wind. As an ominous tower loomed over her. The sky was dark and clouded with hot strikes of burning electricity shooting from the clouds. Ferocious roars boomed from up above but the people seemed clueless to the present details happening in their, oh so precious kingdom that struck all that entered with pain and misery. The kingdom named after the color of their peasant's and proficient's blood that was spilled in the name of treason. Their blood isn't spilled in the wrongful name of treason though, the tyrant king that rules this mess of a kingdom says that, so he may murder who he pleases without being questioned. They are killed because he fears his kingdom will one day rise up against him and use their power to rid their kingdom of him and his evil. But he only kills the ones that are threats like the mixed proficient sometimes he just kill the proficient that's abilities are strong but he never kills the non-proficient. The proficient's were people who possessed magical abilities or practiced magical abilities. The Crimson Kingdom though outlawed magic, they absolutely forbid it and even shunned it.

Kahless and Lukara fight against Molor.

He became king of Suve in 893, uniting his newfound land with his home country, Riteniai.
He was an amazing war leader, fighting off northern invaders mercilessly while still caring for his people. He was a great ruler until his relentless prejudice against light magic users (also called Angels) grew until he declared war upon them.
Kelnumerus believed he was a direct descendant from the goddess of darkness, Stverayin. He presumed that his goddess was at war with Lusys, the god of light. Taking matters into his own hands, he ordered a declaration that any who are loyal to him come to get their magic extracted. Magic extraction is an uncommon ability, but easy to do if mastered.
His scribes who have mastered this art, at first kept the magic held within reinforced containers but to very little avail, as magic is only able to be contained within souls. when Kelnumerus' son, Gulnvelruso noticed this issue, he volunteered to hold all the magic.
Kelnumerus, who was exceedingly fond of his only son, was doubtful of what it would do to him. Nevertheless, Gulnvelruso was able to convince his father.
It was easy for Gul to handle at the power, but when Kelnumerus came to realize how powerful Gul had become, he forced all the magic he could into his soul.
It was progressively painful for his son, but he was blinded by the power he held.
At the ripe age of seventeen, his young son's conscious exploded and died, unable to handle the mental stress the magic held on him. Kelnumerus barely noticed this, too obscured by the authority to care.
He sent the alive carcass of his son out to purge all light users, killing the small percentage of humans that offended Kel so.
After a mob stormed the castle and he was dethroned by the people he claimed to love so much, he fled with his son. They escaped northbound, where they lived out their lives for nearly thirty-eight thousand years, using the power they've taken to remain alive.
Magic was bred out of humanity within a matter of a thousand years, due to Su-Riteniai being a very large point of trade.

During his life, he regained back his humanity and realized what he did to his son and thousands of people because of his own arrogance. He lived in guilt, nearly killing the shell of his son at gunpoint multiple times.

(Out of place note, whenever magic is extracted from Gul in either the form of it being used by amulet users or extracted to create war weapons, Kelnumerus' youth fades bit by bit.)

He created the NNSAIF (National Neverni Intelligence And Supernatural Facility) to hide his mistakes, to brainwash the peoples that magic never existed. He attempted to grasp hold of the Three Amulets multiple times but was unable to because of their high magical security. He instead took captive the users who had their magic unlocked by the powerful relics. He also took captive the Paradoxes (dimension travelers) to prevent further magic breeding.
When he was approached by a young mechanic/technician for a job offer who had an outstanding ability with technology, he immediately grew fond of the boy. Bryen did outstanding work on the NNSAIF's technology, but to both Kelnumerus' horror and delight, Bryen was the brother of an ex amulet owner who is now deceased (meaning he had ties with the other ex amulet users and one of his magic wielding descendants).
Using Bryen's intellect, he was able to relocate the ex-amulet owners and took captive James, his powerful descendant. He was enthralled to have a son-figure once more, but James didn't share the same feelings.
To his horror, he learned that the reason due to his increased aging and Experiment #0001's (Gulnvelruso's) wavering power was due to the ex amulet owners breeding.
When a Godtier known as Cedar came to free his father, he was both shocked and amused, but his amusement would fade when he came to understand that all the experiments (paradoxes, relics, amulet owners) had all escaped and were terrorizing his facility and Neverni and that Cedar had two other Godtier siblings.
With the collection hiding his guilt, he realized that the only thing stopping the Godtiers from restoring the world's magic was Gulnvelruso, the empty shell of his son who he wished so badly to restore.

Its a new day
But it all feels old.
Its a good life
That's what I'm told.
But everything
It all just feels the same
And my high school: it felt more to me
Like a jail cell, a penitentiary.
My time spent there
It only made me see
That I don't ever want to be like you.
I don't want to do the things you do.
I'm never gonna hear the words you say
Cause I don't ever wanna.
I don't ever want to be.
You don't want to be just like you
What I'm sayin' is this is the anthem
Throw all your hands up
You. don't want to be you
Go to college, a university
Get a real job, that's what they said to me
But I could never live the way they want
I'm gonna get by and just do my time
Out of step while they all get in line.
I'm just a minor threat so pay no mind
Do you really want to be like them
Do you really want to be another trend
Do you want to be part of that crowd.
Cause I don't ever wanna.
I don't ever want to be you
Shake it once that's fine
Shake it twice that's okay
Shake it three time you're playin' with yourself again
You
Don't want to be just like you
This is the anthem throw all your hands up
Now that you feel me, sing if you're with me
You, don't want to be just like you
This is the anthem throw all your hands up
Now that you feel me, sing if you're with me
Another loser anthem [Repeat x4]
Songwriters: John Feldmann / Benji Madden / Joel Madden
The Anthem lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

frANKING BINGLE-GRONK

In a year, I had changed
I went from an annoying shy child
To a welcoming idealistic teen

I discovered myself, and who I really am
I abandoned the roles I was forced into
but it seems like yesterday

Within a year, I found love
I lost that love
And I gained another back

But you see,
Love poses more problems
then solutions

I gained people
Who I called best friends
but in the end, those people can never stay

I miss the days
that we would laugh
and act like children all day

Within a year, one went to college
Within a year, another became my lover
And within a year, the others disappeared

Life rose, life fell
Changed religions, changed sexualities
but nonetheless: I am me

Lonliness to attention
back to the way it was before
but that is how life is

Within a year, I will be a new person
have a new face
and see life another way

Within a few years, I may be dead
living somewhere else or perhaps
engaged to be married

Life goes on
Years go on
and it's terrifying

I can take your problems away with a nod and a wave…
Of my hand, 'cause that's just the kind of boy that I am
The only thing I haven't done yet is die
And it's me and my plus one at the afterlife
Crowds are won and lost and won again
But our hearts beat for the diehards

https://report.nih.gov/NIHfactsheets/ViewFactSheet.aspx?csid=45

Make a wish! What is it?
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If you could have any pet what would it be?
If you could change anything about your appearance what would it be?
If you could be any animal what would you be?