i did this a hundred years ago


I did that speculative junk what I love to Steven Universe. Basically, gems look like semi-transparent hologram dolls with visible energy lines (sorta their nervous system?) and homeworld gems have almost robotic looking bodies designed for pure function and/or an alien aesthetic appeal. The Crystal Gems assumed humanoid forms a few hundred years ago so that they are less terrifying to humans. Steven has the glowy glowy nerves too, but his opaque meat body normally hides them.

What if there are aliens that came together into a civilization not as a step forward from packs and clans, but far after when they were more advanced as a species due to the fact that they were instinctively much more reclusive than the average human. They only came together at “swap meets” to trade supplies, technologies, and news. They created a true society not as a choice, but as a necessity for the survival and advancement of their race.

Drax: *Notices something unusual while looking through old human history record* Human Sara, I believe I have found a mistake in your “history book”

Sara: What is it?

Drax: it shows you humans living together in complex communities for thousands of years, but that’s just not possible! By my estimations you humans shouldn’t have come together until a hundred years ago at the earliest based on your level of technology, and you really shouldn’t have become this advanced for another few millennia! How did you do it?

Sara: Well why would we do it that way? A big civilization and working together is the most productive way to make things happen fast

Drax: *runs off to make an emergency addition to the Human manual*

Democratia Aut Mors, Sed Non Imperium

Frantically posting a story I wrote a year ago (seriously, a year ago) in order to appease the people who just started following my blog (I’m alive I swear)

We were the pride of the Ytrian Imperial Fleet. Five hundred ships, more than most species had in their possession, military and civilian. Five hundred ships, tens of thousands of sailors. So we did what we do best, what empires do best, we expanded our territory.

We expanded, and our rule was benevolent. We built hypergates, expanded trade, ensured the naked were clothed and the hungry were fed. We did this for those who we conquered, and in time they came to love us. A line of emperors a hundred generations long unmarred by a succession war, a line of emperors a hundred generations long each educated from birth to know they served the people. We had perfected the rule of a monarch, we had perfected the hereditary leadership, by getting rid of the only issue it had. Unreliable monarchs.

So when we came to the edge of a Republic, we were amused. Many species that now lived and died in the borders of our great empire had experimented with democracy at one point in time, and now all had renounced such failings and were happily in servitude to our glorious leader, Emperor Ytriax'us the Forty Third of His Name, Light of the Empire, Great Servant of the People.

So when we came to the edge of a Republic, we did what we always did. We gave them a choice. Submit to us peacefully, or submit to us through war. We will give you all the boons of the empire, or grind your armies away and restructure your planets to better serve.

The first of the Republic’s planets came to us, and they accepted our benevolent offer. They were enfolded in the arms of the empire, and loved as all our people are loved. They were given boons of technology such as their planet had never seen.

Then came the second, the third, and eventually the fifteenth planet of the Republic to submit to our glorious empire. We grew ever stronger, as was our destiny, as was our duty.

The other planets of the Republic, they would not submit. So we marshaled our great fleet, our five hundred ships, and we sent them to war.

The Republic met us in combat, and the Republic fell in combat. And the Republic was absorbed into our benevolent empire as dozens of species before it had been absorbed into our empire.

That is, they were going to be. But right as our great fleet, still with four hundred and sixty six great ships of combat was about to finish off the flagship of the Republic, and bring the predictable end to this predictably tragic combat, four massive ships jumped into the system.

All four were huge ships, many times larger than any of our battleships, and all were emblazoned with similar words, hated words, words I have come to dread hearing. The Yorktown, the Waterloo, the Normandy, the Gettysburg. A pale skinned biped came onto the screen.

“You sailors, soldiers, and ships of the Ytrian Empire. You will visit no more violence upon these people. You will depart this system and all systems which did not voluntarily join your empire now, or I swear you will suffer the consequences. These ships are those of the Knights Terra, as are those that will follow, and you will visit no more war upon those peaceful stars.”

We laughed, shocked by the presumption of these four ships. What paltry force this was, to presume to issue demands to us. We were the Ytrian Empire, and we knew no master but our Emperor, may he reign forever.

So our Admiral, great Ytriax'an, cousin to the Emperor Most High, amused by their impertinence, deigned to speak to the scum.

“You who are the Knights Terra, we know not of you, but you clearly know of us. We are the ships of the Ytrian Empire, and we will not permit you to stand in the way of progress. All will come under our benevolent rule, by peace or by force the choice is yours.”

After that, after that there was violence. Sudden, immediate, overwhelming violence. We had no idea the Terrans were in range for their weapons. We had no idea their missiles were capable of destroying one of our Battleships with a single blow. We handful of survivors fled, ran for the safety of home and Empire.

As we left that system, they broadcast a single message to us.

“Democratia aut mors, sed non imperium.”

We’ve spent the last decade decrypting that message. It is in a Terran tongue that was dead a thousand years ago, but they stubbornly refuse to let go entirely. Loosely translated it means “Democracy or Death, but never Tyranny”. It is the motto of the Knights Terra, who have rained death and destruction upon our Empire.

To your battle stations now crew, the Stalingrad just warped into the system, to join her sisters the Madrid, the Bull Run and the Kursk.

Defend the Emperor, prepare to meet your ancestors with dignity, and when our Empire dies remember those who destroyed it. Remember those who shattered our rule, who would not suffer our Emperor to spread his rule throughout the galaxy.

Remember the Terrans

anonymous asked:

Prompt on being immortal and or unable to die.

1. “Honestly, it isn’t as fun as it sounds. It does have some perks, though.”

2. “Seriously, put the gun down. You’re embarrassing yourself. Those bullets won’t do a thing to me.”

3. “Your grandfather was a lovely man. I used to take care of him when he was a child.”

4. “Don’t bother, okay? You seriously can’t kill me. Better men than you have tried and failed.”

5. “Honestly, I have no idea how this happened. I thought I was normal, until my ex pushed me off the top of a building, and I barely got a scratch.”

6. “You’ve got me. Immortal doesn’t mean I won’t feel the pain. But let me tell you something, kid. After five hundred years, pain don’t mean much to me anymore.”

7. “Please, don’t go. You’re the last one. I don’t want to be alone. Please.”

8. “I was good for a thousand years, which I think probably says something about me. But if I don’t kill them, I get attached. And then they die anyway, and a part of me dies with them.”

9. “What are you going to do to me, honestly? You could lock me in a box at the bottom of the ocean, come back a hundred years later, and find me ready to destroy you.”

10. “Please tell me you didn’t just try to poison me. Because that would be seriously rude.”

11. “No, I’m not a vampire, and I’m not a freaky creature that sparkles in the sun, either.”


“Sorry, a little inside joke. It was a book. Lost in the fires over a century ago, to my great relief.”

12. “I’m sorry, but did you just ask me if I was a zombie? I’m pretty sure I’m the opposite of a zombie, actually.”

I hope you enjoyed! I tried to bounce around to fit various types of immortals! :)


In the beginning of 1986, John Warnock Hinckley, who was serving time in a mental hospital for attempting to assassinate president Ronald Reagan and killing a person in the the progress, exchanged letters with Ted Bundy which was later leaked to the public. Excerpt’s of the letters read:

“… I hope I’m not being rude, but I just saw the article about you in the post, and I thought you could use a friendly word from someone who truly knows firsthand how tough it can be to stand up and tell the world, ‘Look, I’m really sorry, but I just went totally apeshit.’ The paper talks about how you didn’t want to plead insanity at your trial. (Hey, who does?) Like that means you weren’t nuts? (If you ask me, it proves it!) And how you were only doing it on appeal to escape the death penalty. (Duh.) Ted, I heard that same exact baloney, and I got so bummed that i tried to commit suicide three times. So what I really wanted to tell you is, don’t let the bastards get you down. You have as much right to appeal as anyone else, even if you killed and fucked a hundred dead girls. (But why am I telling you that? You went to law school!)”

Ted responded with:

“… I must ask that you refrain from profanity in any future letters. On that day two years ago when I accepted Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Saviour, I took the trash out of my life. I can’t un-do my past- I am sorry; I did go non compos mantis- but today I am His Lamb. Look to Him, John. There are no loners in His flock.” 

Hinckley’s response:

“… You think you’re so smart, but who’s going to Yale? Jodie Foster.”

Bundy’s response, which included a cruel mention of one of his victim’s Lisa Levy, who Ted savagely bit multiple times during her attack nearly detaching her nipple from her breast in the progress, reads:

“I don’t know what they’re putting in your pill cup old boy, but one snide joke- for which I now hasten to beg your forgiveness- is no reason to upholster your .22 automatic and strafe a crowd of suits. Take it from a fellow who on more than one occasion bit off more nipple than he could chew. Let go of the anger.”

Hinckley’s third letter to Ted:

“You’re so right about needing to let go of some of our anger. When we lash out, we don’t just hurt other people, we also hurt ourselves. The therapists tell me this all the time, but it means a lot more coming from you.”

Finally, Ted’s last letter sent to Hinckley dated April 21st 1986:

“I received some most disheartening news this week- yet another ruling that I was competent at my trial and thus deserving of the death sentence. It’s always the same: The judge sees my grades, my Boy Scout merit badges, the pamphlet on rape prevention I authored on when I served on the Seattle Crime Prevention Advisory Committee, and finds that I was sane. That these aged, black-robed cretins can’t grasp that a sane man could not have performed such unspeakable acts just slays me…”

Source- Ted Bundy: A Visual Timeline by Rob Dielenberg


Tobias’ Journal Entry 011 - 

    “It’s 6p.m. again, just like everyday. I wish we can go back to the train yard like how we used to… I miss the possibilities of things that could’ve and would’ve happened. After all of my misfortunes, heartbreaks and changes, you stayed through it all. Until two years ago.. Where did you go, Faye? I need you to come back.. I’m a mess without you. I sound ridiculous. Even if you were to come back, you wouldn’t even have known that I moved hundreds of miles away… I just wish I could go back in time and see you again. All I could do now is bask in our old memories of us. 

                                                                                 Yours truly, Tobias.”


theteamoth  asked:

Had this prompt for a while now... Since psychic powers are a thing in Fallout universe, (albeit very rare, but present both pre-war and post-war in canon), how do you think would companions react, if Sole Survivor had manifested such powers - hypnosis, healing, mind-reading, pyrokinesis, pre/postcognition or something entirely else you might like - around them; maybe to save their lives or for some other reasons?

Cait: Perhaps it’s just her Irish superstition, but she’s both much faster to believe Sole, and much faster to be freaked out by it. “At least stay out of my head,” she demands, jabbing a finger at their chest. “I don’t trust what I can’t see. I don’t care if you’re savin’ me or not - you keep that shite away from me. I want nothin’ to do with all this. It’s askin’ for trouble.”

Codsworth: “Er… P-Perhaps it’s a side effect? Of some… medication. Yes, surely, t-that’s it.” He’s an old-fashioned, traditional bot. It unnerves him a little bit, and he tries to justify it through some logical, vaguely scientific means. He never tells Sole to stop, or really passes judgement on their powers. He’s just happy he doesn’t have a mind for Sole to read.

Curie: The concept of “ESP” was highly theorized about Pre-War. Experiments were even done to try and make such powers manifest. Curie’s impressed by Sole’s feats, sure, but she’s more concerned with figuring out the how and why of Sole’s abilities. She won’t do anything without Sole’s consent, of course, but… she’s certainly eager for a chance to grab her clipboard and test tubes.

Danse: “I…” He blinks, lacking a logical explanation. “I do not believe that is scientifically possible,” he says firmly. “You must be imagining things.” When Sole proves that, no, their powers are very real, he’s unsure what to think. “There must be a reasonable explanation,” he states. “You should return to the Prdywen and offer records of your experiences. For research.”

Deacon: “Very funny,” he chuckles, wagging a finger at them. “You almost got me that time.” He changes his tune when he sees a more obvious demonstration of Sole’s abilities. “Well, shucks, partner,” he says, toying with his wig. “Powers like that could be very useful in our business. Ever consider putting that big brain of yours to good use? We have 401k packages.”

Dogmeat: Sole can give him treats with their mind. This is literally the best thing to ever happen to him.

Hancock: “You know, I heard about that once. Rare as hell, but…” Hancock nods sagely. The ghoul’s been around too long and seen too much to really argue whether or not somebody’s got magic powers. Instead, he leans forward, a strange, unnerving grin spreading across his lips. “What say you and I have some fun with those abilities of yours, huh?”

Nick Valentine: “Seems like it’d be the kind of thing you’d read about in a low-budget comic book, but…” He watches Sole float a typewriter across the room. “I’m never one to deny evidence. Just another day in the Commonwealth, I s’pose.” He gestured to the coffeepot on the other side of the room. “Can you bring me that mug? Without spilling it?”

MacCready: Sadly, he and Sole might be the best of friends, but once Sole starts exhibiting supernatural powers, MacCready stands a big change of packing up and running for the hills. Even if Sole assures him that they’d never use those powers on him, or even around him, MacCready would still shake in his boots and try to slither away as fast as he could.

Piper: Don’t make me laugh. What do you think Piper would do? “How does it work? How does it feel? Like flexing a muscle? Or just lifting your hand, like a normal movement? How heavy can the items be if you pick them up with your mind? Can you write with your mind? How far can you see into the future? Can you see what I’m thinking?” And so on, and so on. Never-ending.

Preston: “So, like Mama Murphy.” The Minuteman nods thoughtfully. “Y’know, not everybody gave credit to her, but I always did think there was somethin’ to those visions of hers. Folks tend to be scared of things they don’t understand, but I think it’s good, havin’ someone like that on your side. Better with us than against us. Just don’t go abusing your powers, please.”

Strong: “HUMAN SPECIAL.” If nothing else, Sole’s powers assure Strong that he is with the best human. “STRONG HAS STRONGEST HUMAN,” the mutant declares. “HUMAN IS GOOD LEADER. CAN FIGHT BETTER THAN OTHER HUMANS.”

X6-88: “Fascinating.” He doesn’t blink. “The Institute has some records on similar instances of psychic ability, from two hundred years ago. I am sure they would be interested to collect data from a modern source.” It’s nigh impossible to faze the Courser, though he does twitch when Sole reads his thoughts back to him. “Please don’t do that.”

Call me a bad person but…

I only cared about Columbus Day because throughout elementary I had a day off from school. But personally people making a huge deal about some dead white guy is pretty dumb. I agree that he did terrible things to the natives but really that was hundred and hundreds of years ago. We all need to stop dreading about the past and actually look towards making our future better. Plus Indigenous People’s Day is kinda a mouthful…

I Need to Know

Nessian talk about Mor and Cass



“I need to know what happened between you and Morrigan.”

Nesta refused to meet his gaze, her hard face angled away from him even though a moment before her hands had been curiously wondering down his bare chest, his sword hitting the training room floor with a clang as he instantly dropped it.


When Nesta had entered the room, Cassian was not surprised. For the past few months she would come towards the middle of his sessions and linger to watch, sometimes joining in, most times content to be a bystander. Things between them had… not progressed since the war. Although Cassian still savoured the way her lips felt on his, and he often pondered what her mouth would taste like when not mixed with blood and tears, he was holding himself back. Why? Because when he was alone with her, she looked like she wanted to kill him. Any moments of tenderness between them had passed, and it seemed Nesta wasn’t inclined to rekindle what they could have had.

And Cassian, Cauldron curse his soul for it, could not stand the thought of letting another woman let him dangle. To get to a place where Cassian had accepted he deserved to be more than just a back-up piece of flesh to a woman who didn’t know what, or who, she really wanted was harder than any physical training he had ever done. He still was not perfect at it either, and to not chase after Nesta like a lost pet looking for its owner was a true feat of strength for him.

“I need to know why she has you so whipped, and why Azriel doesn’t even care.”

Cassian took a step away from her, picking up his fallen sword and crossing the training courtyard to put it away. The sun was beating down on him hard, and he’d exerted himself beyond what he usually would today. He was frustrated – he always was these days – and the only way he could think to rectify that was by hitting a lot of things with a very sharp object.

“Why?” Cassian kept his tone polite, not wanting her to know how hesitant he was to speak of the matter.

Nesta took a step towards him, her blue dress gliding behind her. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and her ever-present frown was even deeper today. Her startling eyes had now met his, and Cassian was surprised at the amount of fury in them. People often mistook Nesta for emotionless, or for feeling nothing but spite and anger, but they just didn’t know how to read her. It was all about the eyes – one look into them and Nesta Archeron would unwillingly spill all her secrets.

“I need to know if you’re in love with her.”

Cassian scoffed at suggestion. “Why would you think something as preposterous that?”

Nesta’s jaw tightened as she glared at him. “Because every time I turn my godsdamned back you’re with her, doting to her every need and want and wish and I’m fucking sick of trying to guess what the hell is going on between you two.” Nesta threw her arms up in the air.

Cassian was astonished, and met her wrath with a sarcastic smirk. “I don’t think that has anything to do with you, Sweetheart.” He knew he shouldn’t tease her, but where did she get off asking him this shit? It was Nesta who told him to leave her alone after the war, it was Nesta who could barely be in the same room as him unless he was training. Fuck, today when she had touched him was the first contact they’d since she was willing to die for him – another one of her actions that simply didn’t make sense. He’d told her how he felt.

I have no regrets in my life but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world – the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.

He’d laid himself bare, and he was met with the animosity she usually saved for, well, anybody but Elain. Before, he could see through it. Not justify it, but understand her motivations. Now, he did not know anything.

“Just. Tell. Me.”


“If you don’t then I’ll assume the worst.”

With a roll of his eyes, he strolled past her and out of the courtyard, twisting through the garden paths that would take him to his personal townhouse. “What’s the worst for you, Nesta? What would be so bad?” he called back to her.

“What would be so bad,” she spat as she stomped after him, “is if I keep waiting for you, not realising that you’ll never get over her.”

Cassian stopped so quickly Nesta barely avoided slamming into his back. “Excuse me?” He turned to look at her. “You? Waiting for me? I don’t think so.”

She blinked up at him. “Cassian, I-”

“Don’t you dare insinuate that the reason we aren’t-” Cassian floundered, not even knowing how to describe what they could potentially be. “The reason we aren’t… something, is not because of me. You barely look at me. I’m lucky if you speak to me at all. And worse, when I think we are making progress you shut me down even harder. You don’t have a right to ask me about my personal life when you do everything you can to make sure you aren’t a part of it.”

Nesta sighed haughtily through her nose. “I’m trying.” Her voice was tight, like she was being strangled by the very words she was trying to speak.

“Sure. Whatever you say, Nesta.” Cassian was beyond caring about how bluntly he spoke. He rubbed his hands over his face, then pinched his nose. Without looking at her, he brushed past her.

He should have looked.

Cassian,” she hissed.

He didn’t look back – he wasn’t in the mood to deal with this. She had done nothing but push him away. Nothing but degrade his existence after she’d let him think that she felt the same way about him. It was okay if she didn’t, but it was not healthy for him to continue pining after her. He could not do it. He would not.

“Cassian?” This time her voice was softer, gentler, and he could hear it cracking as she tried not to cry.

He didn’t hate himself when he looked back at her.

“Wherever you are, Mor is too. You’ll speak to me, and then stop the moment she’s there. When I think that maybe I can get you alone, she always whisks you away and you always let her. She hates me, and that’s okay, but sometimes it feels like the hate she has for me makes you dislike me too. You feel like I’m shutting you out? Okay. I feel like you’re a ghost forever haunting a woman that is clearly using you as a buffer between her and Azriel.  I – I don’t know what’s going on between you and her and Azriel, all I know is that I can’t help thinking and feeling these things. You told me you wanted time with me, so spend time with me. Prioritize me.”

He was astonished at her outburst, but also, in a way he couldn’t fully comprehend, relieved that she was finally speaking to him. That he was getting truths from her.

He swallowed hard, and walked back to her side. He didn’t immediately talk, rather led them to a stone bench where they could both sit. They did, a foot apart and with no inclination to touch, and he sat in silence for a minute or two, processing her words.

“We’ve slept together,” he eventually said.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“It was hundreds of years ago – I was her first, not that I knew until I actually-” Cassian cut himself off, those details not relevant.

“Did you love her then? Did she feel like that for you?”

Cassian sighed. “I love Mor the way I love Feyre. She’s my best friend. All those years ago, when we were barely adults? I thought I did. It’s why I did what I did, even if I knew it was wrong.”

Nesta glanced sideways at him, her thumbs fidgeting as she listened. “Why was it wrong?”

“She was Rhys’ cousin. But more than that, Azriel had feelings for her, too. Ones that were stronger than mine. I knew about them, and I never planned on making a move on Mor. But then Az and Rhys went away, and we were alone and talking and laughing and she made me feel like she felt the same way. I justified the betrayal to my brothers because I thought she wanted it, wanted me. You have to understand, when I was younger I had no power for myself. I was the lowest tier solider, and it looked like I always would be. I was often regarded as just something to fuck by women. I was a bastard, I couldn’t possibly expect more. Although I’d had sex, I’d never had a relationship or anything close to it. And then Mor came along, and made me feel like I was worth her time. It was easy to fall into it. Easy for Az, too.”

Cassian took a deep breath before continuing.

“That night we were alone and I’d cooked for her. We were laughing about something – whatever it was, was so hilarious that it had us in fits. Next thing I know, she’s kissing me, and I feel like I’ve been Cauldron-blessed. She wanted more, so I gave it to her, not realising she hadn’t done it before. The moment her maiden-head yielded to me I knew I’d made a mistake. But I was willing to compromise my honour for this woman, thought she was worth it.”

Cassian tilted his head up at the afternoon sun, letting the rays warm his face. With his eyes closed, he told Nesta, “it took me a very long time to realise that she was using me for a purpose. That I was nothing to her. Not nothing, but only a friend. One she probably never would’ve made if not for the bond between Rhys and me. I have never fought with Rhys the way I did when he’d found out what I’d done, and I’ve never forgiven myself for the look on Azriel’s face: hurt, but also resignation. He didn’t think he deserved her, and it made me furious. Mad, because I was the asshole that bedded the woman he was falling in love with, and despair because my brother was worth everything in the world, and I played a part in him believing that he didn’t.”

It had not been a long while since Cassian had felt the familiar stinging in his eyes, the tears that he quashed regularly.

“And now?” Nesta hesitantly asked.

“For years I thought maybe she did feel something for me, and was just giving me room so Rhys wouldn’t get violent again and Azriel wouldn’t be too hurt. Then I realised what she was really doing was letting me be the reason she stayed away from Azriel, and that whatever feelings she had were never for me. It got to the point where I let her – was her willing accomplice. Never, never do I want Azriel to have to feel the way I did. To feel as ugly, and as undeserving. He’s too good for that. He’s better than us all.”

Nesta tucked a strand of her golden hair behind her ear, a thoughtful expression gracing her face, before clasping them in her lap.

“I should’ve stopped doing it a long, long time ago,” Cassian further admitted. “And if not then, I should’ve stopped doing it the moment I knew I had feelings for you.”

Her eyes snapped to his, now open and staring at her.

“It’s no shock to either of us that I feel this way, Nesta. I have since the moment I met you.”

She breathed heavily, her eyes now portraying a tale of confusion and want, hesitancy and immediacy all at once.

“I thought maybe,” her voice was shaking slightly, “you were caught up in the war, and perhaps the words you said were only told because you thought we might die.”  

Cassian didn’t reply with words, rather, he slowly wove his hand in between hers so he could hold her. Just a little. His hand was clammy after training, and he was quaking ever so slightly, but if the squeeze he felt from her was any indication, Nesta didn’t mind.

She also scooted just a bit closer to him, starting to close the foot of space between them.

“I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you,” she said quietly, now wrapping both her small, smooth hands around his rough one so she could clutch it to her chest.

It was a rare occasion for her to show such vulnerability, and he was revelling in it. He wanted to pull on all her threads until he unravelled her, leaving nothing but the woman she actually was with no façade covering her. He still wanted those threads though, but he wished Nesta to weave them not because of past trauma, but because she desired to create her own narrative – one away from the idea of protecting herself.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve been behaving with Mor. I’ve done it for so long that I don’t even realise I’m doing it. It’s never hurt someone before, and I’m sorry you had to deal with it.”

“We’re a sad, sorry lot, aren’t we?” Nesta breathed a laugh and stood, Cassian rising with her as she hadn’t let go of his hand. “So what now, Cassian?”

Cassian looked over the woman he had been silently pining after since the moment he’d met her – the woman who looked like she might be ready for him, for all the love he had to give her.

“That’s up to you, Sweetheart.”

Her face pinched at the pet name, but her eyes danced and her cheeks blushed the most beautiful pink he’s ever seen.

“I have a few ideas.” She smirked at him and let go of his hand, sashaying away from him. He grinned after her, especially when she said, “Well, are you coming?”

Under Dancing Stars I

I am still obsessed with Cassian and Nesta and also the Bed Sharing-/ Enemies to Lovers-/ Arranged Marriage AU, so I had to write this. It’s super angsty and the plot is basically just a Slow Burn and them drooling over each other or making out. Set in medieval times and everyone’s a knight. Enjoy.

(I also thought it would be fun to throw you right into the story without any explanations- have fun figuring stuff out as you go along!)

Check out my other writing here!


 Chapter One: The Return


Beatrice: I wonder that you will still be talking, Signor Benedick: nobody marks you.
Benedick: What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?” 
― William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing


Here’s the story of how Cassian and Nesta fell in love.

Their grandchildren will request to hear it one day, when all the years have passed by and their hair has turned white. Winter has covered the lands outside the castle; and sitting in front of a crackling fire, Cassian will take his wife’s hand. They’ll share a smile that quietly asks, do you remember? And when they look at each other they will not see the wrinkles in each other’s faces or the cane Cassian has to use to walk by now- they will see each other as they once were when they first met, a willful girl and a boy with the promise of a storm in his eyes.  

It’s a messy story, Cassian will say. Full of prejudices and mistakes.

But a story worth telling, Nesta will add. And squeeze her husband’s hand. You’ll let some parts out, right?

He will raise her hand to his lips and press a kiss to her skin. Just the parts that belong only to us, my darling.


“I know you’re nervous about the race”, Elain said. “But you don’t need to get so worked up.”

“Worked up? Me?” Nesta threw her hands in the air and proceeded to pace back and forth in the small stable they were standing in. “I am perfectly fine! The very picture of calmness! There is nothing that could interrupt my current state of collection and serenity!” She stopped in front of Duren’s box, her mare dancing lightly on the spot. “You’re the one that’s nervous”, she murmured, and gently stroked the horse’s white fur. Duren lowered her head. She had been given to Nesta on her nineteenth birthday, and ever since then, Nesta had loved her with all her heart. Had spent hours and days on Duren’s back, riding through the endless woods and along the cold streams of the northlands.

“I understand”, Elain implored. “It’s stressful. All those people you haven’t seen for years- then there’s father- and Feyre, of course”-

“Feyre seems to handle herself very well.”

A stable boy entered the stables, visibly nervous. Nesta glared at him. “You again?”

“I’m sorry for interrupting your conversation, my Lady!”, he blurted.  “I have been told to inform you that the races are about to begin, and I can fetch a servant for you- if you want me to, that is- to bring out your racer to the starting line.”

“Go, go!” Nesta waved her hand in impatience. “I will do that myself. How much time is left?”

“Fifteen minutes, my Lady!”, the boy stammered. “Are you sure you don’t need a servant?”

“Positive. Now off with you.” The boy ran out outside as if stung by a bee.

“Be nicer, Nesta”, Elain pleaded. “He was scared of you!”

Nesta opened the door to Duren’s box. She was already saddled up, ready to be led to the race ground. “The goal is that there are all scared of us, Elain.”

“Why are you like this?”, Elain asked, growing desperation in her voice. “That is a horrible thought! Why would you even say something like that?”

Nesta turned to lead Duren out of the stables. “So that we might not share Feyre’s fate.”

“Feyre is marrying Rhysand, a man she loves. The future High Lord of the Night Court.”

“Feyre is nineteen. She knows nothing of men, or love, or anything in life, concerning that matter.”

“And you do?”

Flashing images popped up in Nesta’s mind, a hand grabbing her wrists, a body pinning her down. A bloody knife. She shoved them all away. “I know enough.”

Elain hurried after her. They walked through the crisp morning air, the scent of wet leaves and fires carried over to them by the wind. The courtyard was almost empty except for some busy servants. Everyone had to be at the race grounds already.

“Nesta”, Elain panted when she had caught up with her. “Just talk to me. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing is wrong”, Nesta answered through clenched teeth. There the race grounds were; there the hundreds of noblemen stood, all elaborate dresses, adorned hats and dashing suits; drinking, laughing, betting on the winner.

“It is about father, isn’t it? It’s that thing you will not tell me about, that stupid thing that caused your fight years ago-“

“Yes!” Nesta halted, and whirled around to her sister. “Yes! Of course it is! I have not been to the royal court since I was nineteen because of that thing, and I was forced to live locked up in some cold mansion in the north! I did not get to see you share your first dance as an eligible woman, I did not see Feyre get engaged, I was the one blamed when I was not the one that started it”- Nesta stopped herself. That was too much. Elain could never know about Thomas.

She gathered herself, straightened. “I was isolated from your lives”, she said coolly. “And now that father has decided he wants to marry me off, I have suddenly become presentable again. You must see that’s hard to accept.”

Elain grabbed her hand. “Then tell me what it is that separated us”, she begged. “Tell me why you were sent north three years ago. I will not judge, I will not think badly of you, I simply want to understand!”

“No”, Nesta said and continued walking towards the starting line, where the other racers were already waiting with their horses. “All you need to know is that were it not for you and Feyre, I would not manage to be here.”

“You can always talk to me, you know that.”

Nesta breathed out. “I do.”

“And at least you love racing. This day can be fun for you.”

Nesta shook her head to clear her thoughts. “You’re right. It will be fun. Elain”- she squeezed her sister’s hand- “I truly am thankful for everything you do. I know I may seem harsh. I am trying. It’s all so much- my first day back in Velaris, my first day back at court…I am lucky I have you.”

Elain swallowed. “That’s good”, she said, but in her eyes lay all the worries in the world.

There was no time for them to talk anymore; Nesta was led to her own starting position by an organizer where she mounted her horse. She briefly greeted the girl next to her, Countess Amalia of the Autumn Court- she’d been invited to her birthday dinner once, Nesta recalled. The spot on her left was still empty. At least she had not been the last one to arrive.

“Lady Nesta”, Amalia whispered. “Is it true? Are you back from the north?”

Nesta smiled thinly. “Apparently.”

“Are you terribly excited for your sister? I would die! She must be in heaven!”

”Do not worry. Last I saw her, she was eating breakfast.”

Amalia laughed. “Oh, I can’t wait for you to join my tea parties again. You were always like a breeze of fresh air with all those uptight princesses and ladies. Are you cold? I am so cold; I hate horseback-riding, and I will surely finish last. My mother forced me to participate.” Amalia sighed. “But that is the way of life. Mother commands, and I do her bidding. I am much more looking forward to the real race later. The Noble’s races are not the same thing.”

What Amalia said was true: this race- called the Noble’s race- was simply in jest, something for the young Lords and Ladies to compete with each other. Nesta had loved taking part in it before she was sent north; it was the only thing she had really looked forward to when her father had told her she would come back. Aside from living with her sisters again.

“You were sorely missed, though”, Amalia continued. “You did win the Noble’s races almost each year, did you not? The only one to challenge Rhysand and Cassian.”

“Right”, Nesta said, a little uneasy. “Where is he, by the way? I have not seen him yet.”

“The Crown Prince?”

“No.” Nesta adjusted her gloves. “The other one. Cassian.”

“Oh, he must be here any minute. He’s won each race ever since you’ve been gone. He certainly won’t miss out on this one.”

“He has?” Nesta eyed Amalia doubtfully.

The Countess laughed again. “That’s right, I almost forgot about that little feud of yours! Are the two of you still enemies?”

Nesta’s felt a flush on her face. “We’re not enemies. I mean, I don’t know what he thinks about that subject.”

“Just ask him yourself”, Amalia said and nodded her head at someone behind Nesta’s shoulder. “He is riding our way.”

If Amalia had not pointed out that Cassian was nearing the starting line, Nesta would have figured it out by the sudden cheers and claps among the spectators. He had to be the clear favorite among the contesters.

Her heart beat faster, and not because of the High Lord and his family that took their places on the high balconies right now- no, because she hadn’t thought this through at all. What would she say to Cassian? Would he ignore her? Insult her? Should she insult him first, just to get a head start?

Nesta glanced over her shoulder. The sight of him hit her like a brick. He was taller, to begin with, and older: everything seemed broader, his chest, his arms- and his hair was longer, too, tied back behind his head. He seemed in thought; didn’t notice the cheers, the crowd, or her. Her stupid heart stuttered for a second.

“Cassian”, she said quickly when he had taken his position next to her. She’d meant to say something clever. All she could think of was his name.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

I was wondering how you thought different nations would raise children or view family life. The Water Tribe and Air Nation are the most distinctive (as I remember) but I can't really differentiate between the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation?

I’ve somewhat answered the question in this post, but I didn’t delve into how children are trained and educated in the Four Nations, which I think is worth examining.


Education for boys and girls is sex-segregated, and begins at home. We know that Gran-Gran taught Katara about delivering babies, so presumably the girls would be taught about assisting with childbirth, healing, and medical care, as well as the traditional tasks of sewing and cleaning.

Katara: Sokka, Calm down. I helped Gran-Gran deliver lots of babies back home. 
Sokka: This isn’t the same as delivering an arctic seal! This is a real… human…. thing!
Katara: It’s called a baby, and I helped to deliver plenty of those too. 

At 16, they are legal adults, so they would also have learned about marriage and all that it entailed. As far as bending goes, they start training very early, around the age of 4-6, judging by the beginner’s healing class in the North.

The male heads of household teach their sons about hunting, fishing, and fighting. At the age of 14, they undergo a rite of passage where they have to steer a ship through ice-infested waters without adult supervision. Both they and their crewmates earn marks based on their position in the crew. We don’t see a beginner’s class for male waterbenders, but we do know that the Water Tribe is not afraid of tough teaching methods.

One skill that is common to both boys and girls is sailing. Katara and Sokka both know how to steer a boat on their own at the very beginning of the show. Hardly a surprise, given their environment.


Education in the Earth Kingdom varies depending on your social status. We don’t see any schools for poor children in the Earth Kingdom. For the children of rich parents, they are educated through private tutors, such as Toph’s tutor, Master Yu:

Yu:  I’m keeping her at the beginner’s level. Basic forms and breathing exercises only.

For less wealthy children, there are classes with other students:

Yu: So, are you ready to commit to more lessons?  If you pay for the whole year in advance, I’ll bump you up to the next belt.

However, as we just saw, advancement can depend on how much money you have here, too.

It is noteworthy that the children in the rough-and-tumble earthbending classes are both male and female, although we do see more boys than girls. By contrast, we see an all-girls poetry class in Ba Sing Se:

This might be due to their relative wealth–it could be a select school for girls like the Fire Nation has. At any rate, the difference in education for girls and boys, while present, is not quite as rigid as the Water Tribe.


This is the nation with the most widespread education model. While there are select schools for the wealthy and nobility:

Azula: Tell me, what is the daughter of a nobleman doing here? Certainly our parents didn’t send us to the Royal Fire Academy for Girls to end up in… places like this.

There are academies for regular Fire Nation children, with a strict curriculum and rigid standards of behavior.

Ms. Kwan: Your etiquette is terrible. In the homeland, we bow to our elders. Like so. 

Music Teacher: No, child. That hullabaloo going on with your feet. Is that a nervous disorder? 

School Headmaster:  That’s what any mother would say, ma'am. Nonetheless, you’re forewarned. If he acts up one more time, I’ll have him sent to reform school… by which I mean the coal mines. Are we clear? 

All schools are state-run and contain a huge dose of Fire Nation propaganda:

Ms. Kwan: Question one: What year did Fire Lord Sozin battle the Air Nation Army?  Kuzon? 
Aang:  Is that a trick question? The Air Nomads didn't have a formal military. Sozin defeated them by ambush. 
Ms. Kwan:  Well, I don’t know how you could possibly know more than our national history book. Unless you were there a hundred years ago. 

On a positive note, while there are all-girl (and presumably all-boy) finishing schools in the higher echelons of society, we see a very egalitarian mix of gender in the regular Fire Nation academies.

There are no sex-segregated areas of education, including in the military. Azula was trained from an early age, just like Zuko, to excel in firebending.

Speaking of which, because the Fire Nation justifies its war of conquest on the merits of its bending, firebending is the most important part of education for those who possess the ability. While there are high-level nonbenders, such as Azula’s instructors Lo and Li, having weak—or even weaker bending—can prevent you from gaining power. Zuko, despite being two years older, is by no means certain to take the throne, partly based on his relative incompetence and his sister’s prodigious achievement.


Due to every citizen being an airbender, each Air Nomad child received bending training from an early age. At the very least, children would have to be taught enough bending not to fall from the Air Temple balconies! Unlike the other three nations, an airbender’s master was his or her surrogate parent as well.

Gyatso: Aang, I’m not going to let them take you away from me.

Fun was emphasized as a learning technique:

And respect for one’s elders was … optional.

Finally, the Air Nomads were all trained in animal care, as they adopted sky bison as children which would stay with them throughout their lives:

Air Nomad Woman: Choose well. A sky bison is a companion for life.

A:TLA glosses over one aspect of education fairly heavily, which is: considering the level of technological and social development of the Four Nations, it’s highly unlikely that everyone would be able to read and write. We never encounter a situation where someone can’t make out an inscription, or has trouble reading a sign or “Wanted” poster. Even the dirt-poor Lee in that Earth Kingdom village could read the inscription on Zuko’s dagger! Considering the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation’s desire to keep knowledge contained, as well as the Water Tribe’s lack of cheap paper-making materials, it would have made sense for the GAang to encounter more people who rely on memorization than people who rely on reading.

June 6th, 1856

Chapter Three:

7:34 PM

Eli sat in his library, staring at books he has already read and the stories in them that he has already encountered. Life seems dull for him. He has already seen the world, experienced all there was to experience. Eli headed out for his friend’s house, Mr. Benjamin Green His house was the social spot for all the men in town. Tonight there was a gathering of the important men in the town, it was a way to blow off steam. As he opened the door, he was welcomed by a beautiful foyer and a crowd of what must have been a hundred men. The room was warm from the heat the bodies made. Eli stood there and took in the beauty before him. He then decided to go over to Mr. Green, to thank him for inviting him.

“It’s my pleasure to have such a presentable man like yourself at my gathering,” said Mr. Green. “Go out and have some fun. I mean as much fun as you can have without a woman.” Mr. Green laughed along with a group of his friends. Eli nodded his head in agreement.

While socializing, he noticed a man who was sitting alone, reading a book. The man was very skinny and boyish. Seized by his beauty, Eli left his friends walked towards the man and sat next to him.

“Well, aren’t you an odd man. A room filled with people, and you would rather read.” Eli initiated the conversation.

“I prefer to learn,” came the swift reply.

“That is very smart of you. I love to read too. It is one of the greatest pleasures in life.” Eli paused to take another look at the man’s face. “What are you reading?”

“A book.”

“I got that. What kind of book?” Eli tilted his head down to try and see the cover.

“It’s about a man who could never die and his search for happiness. He had a full life, yet he was never quite satisfied.”

Eli felt choked. The book was very much like his own life. Eli is a very old soul, with the face of a much younger man. Hundreds of years ago, Eli was born to a human mother and a father from a different world. Death did not scare him, because for him, death wasn’t anywhere in the future. He just never admitted to himself that he wasn’t happy. “Did he ever find happiness?” he finally asked.

“I haven’t finished it yet. You should give it a read.”

“You will have to let me borrow it.”

“I might, but how will I give it to you if I’m not done?”

“You can bring it to my house… when you’re done, of course.”

“How will I know where you live?”

“I guess you are going to have to socialize. People know me. I’m quite popular in this town. Maybe you would know that if you picked up your head from that book.” Eli stood up and started to walk away.

“And your name?”

“Eli Stone.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“May I know yours?”

“Neal Chatwal.”

“Well I hope I hear from you again, Neal.”

Eli walked towards the other men. He shook the hands of the other men, and said his goodbyes. Neal stared at him as he left. The air was no longer warm to Neal, Eli had given him the chills. Why was he so confused? He didn’t know how to feel about him.

“Buried” (Chapter Three)

Well… Tony and Steve see each other again. It goes about as well as you think lol Excited to hear what you guys think!

If you need to be added to the TAG LIST drop a request in my ask box!


Enjoy :)


South America

“Mister Stark!” A woman came jogging towards him through the soft layer of mud, one hand stretched out invitingly, the other trying to keep her hat on her head as the helicopter wound down. “I am so happy you made it! We were starting to think no one would ever come!”

Tony waited until he was clear of the helicopter before answering. “Sorry about the last minute reply. We spoke on the phone right? You must be–”

“Melissa.” She supplied helpfully, shaking his hand and leading him onto drier ground. “Forgive the mud, it’s the end of the season you know, so we had an early burst of rain and it about washed us out.”

Tony glanced down at his sturdy boots and jeans. “A little mud isn’t going to hurt anything. It’s not like I’m wearing two hundred dollar shoes.” Tony smiled faintly at the pretty blonde, thinking about another blond ten years ago who had just outright laughed about the amount of mud Tony was trudging through.

He definitely preferred the pretty girl who apologized for the mud.

“Rain is coming already this year?”

“Yes, we are actually packing up a week early because the weather is changing too quickly. Can I take your bag?”

“No.” Tony laughed a little and hefted his backpack. “It’s fine. Heavier than it looks, don’t want you struggling with it

“Why did you bring a bag? Are you staying overnight here? I assumed you would be staying in the city?”

“I’d like to stay here.” Tony admitted. “I’d like to see the camp and site and take some time to make an informed decision. My dad funded this for so many years that I’m not going to just shut it down because I took over.”

“I was so sorry to hear about Howard.” Melissa put her hand over her heart sympathetically. “He was so wonderful about funding this project and when it got bigger he even paid for the security team we needed to–”

“Security team?” Tony interrupted as they ducked under the low door of a thrown together cabin. “Why a security team? I wasn’t aware that there were more than just college kids and some staff at the site. There wasn’t anything in the file about a security team.”

Keep reading

I had a dream I was talking to Nick Valentine.

We were in a vault, but this vault was… different. Instead of being underground, this vault was under water. He was telling me how he’d never seen a place like this, but it reminded him of something he had heard many years ago.

“There used to be an entire city under water, but something went wrong - folks got kinda kooky. I don’t think anyone made it out alive.”

We kept walking.

“Hundred years later, government decided to try and make it work again. They got together with Vault-Tec and did some sort of… reclamation. Opened it up on what would’ve been the city’s 100th anniversary.”

We walked through a large set of doors.

“Rapture 2.0,” he said, “Doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, does it?”

Anyway, it gave me some crazy ideas.

The idea of having a Vault elevator in a Lighthouse is incredibly exciting to me.

Wings [Prologue] || Taehyung


Pairing - Kim Taehyung x Reader

Genre - Fantasy, Fallen Angel! AU, Fluff, Angst, Smut

Summary - He tells to nobody in particular as to why he is on Earth.

Originally posted by whitetiger99

You know when Humans celebrate birthdays, they blow candles and cut cakes, receive gifts and blessings? Well, for one, that’s dumb. For two, how does one even fit three hundred and twenty five candles on a cake? Unless, of course, it’s made to fit such an obnoxious number.

Sorry, you probably are thinking I’m some old man, with a balding head and silver white hair hanging from my chin but, please let me correct that image of mine in your head.

I’m over three centuries old, yes. But I’m as old as I’d died when I was twenty five. I’m no one to brag but I must say - in order to correct you heavily - that I’m handsome, tall, and absolutely hot.

And totally on the run.

It’s funny really - spending my birthday running away and in hiding, coloring my hair whenever I think I’m being followed. Yes, I did bring this upon myself. In fact, I’m probably the only person from Kronell who’s brought such fate upon himself.

Three hundred years ago, I was a happily married man, living with a strong, smart and beautiful wife. She was everything to me, as much as I was to her, I’m sure. While we did have struggles in bearing children, we loved each other very much.

But that’s where everything changes, you see.

The Gods, Dignitaries, Heavens, whatever you wish to call those who control our fate that isn’t us, seemed to find my life a toy to be played and tampered with. To be spoiled. When they went too far, it took away my only reason to live away from me.

My wife died.

A tragic story began: I was the talk of the village, every man would keep their children and wives away from me. They’d point to me and say that I was a bad man for not taking care of my wife. While I ran around, trying to find ways to bring my wife back, everybody else watched, amused or horrified. Like it was some morbid scene to see a man want his wife back.

When I’d tried killing myself - since that seemed to be the only way to go to her - they didn’t let me. It was almost like I was immortal - not in the normal sense. They just…refused to take my soul.

I despised everything. Loathed them, rather. I could no nothing. I was as feckless as a puny human facing a grizzly bear.

Then, one day, an old lady offers to let me talk to the person I so wanted to contact. Apparently, she was one of those women who were considered crazy by the entire village. The one everybody made fun of for the claims she made of seeing and hearing dead people. In my defense, and as a testament, I can say that was very, very much true.

Do not hold my wantonness against me, but it was just that which made me too blind to heed to them when I was warned, time and again, not to attempt to contact the dead.

Once the dead, always the dead. 

I was more desperate than I already was, causing me to be engulfed in flames. Yes, you can take that quite literally. I’d only seen the figure of my beloved deceased wife form, and then I died. Quite comical, really.

When I found myself staring at the King of the Underworld, I knew then, that I had undeniably, and very unabashedly, fucked up.

He let me know I had just signed my contract on serving a probable life sentence in Kronell, having to serve him until he was satisfied - which perhaps has never happened or will ever happen. Kimroe was ugly. Straight up, bare faced, chunky bodied ugly.

But we Sinners (those who were slaves) never really had the chance to exactly…voice our opinion. It would be a free world if we could.

Red Bloods (pure blooded evil people, mostly descendants of Kimroe) and us never got along well - we weren’t supposed to either Which is not a surprise, really. But still, if one spent three hundred cursed years in such a place, wouldn’t they want to leave?

I knew I wanted to. And I did. Which brings us to the current position I am in.

Running, hiding.

All I have to do is find my soul mate - of course, it is easier said than done - and get romantically involved with him or her. You see, when we Sinners find our soul mates, which are usually humans, we are halfway through being ridden off the sin we committed. But a Sinner cannot just force it out of their mates. They must, on their own accord, convey their romantic feelings - if they have any - to the Sinner. And only then shall the Sinner be redeemed.

I wanted to throw that person whoever made up these rules, into the Pit. But they’re probably dead, so there’s no point.

It’s isn’t just that rule which is crappy. What’s crappier about our existence is that we are absolutely allergic to metal. If we ever made the mistake to touch it, we were sure to suffer from second to third degree burns. I scoffed when I learned of it, but instantly regretted it when Kimroe used it on me.

As I feel my self esteem lower with every step I take towards the small cafe across the street, I begin to believe the fact that perhaps I won’t be finding any soul mate here. Perhaps, they’ve died, or are tied to someone else.

But I had to try. I couldn’t possibly survive another century there in Kronell.

I reached the cashier, the lady on the other side smiling brightly at me. It made me wonder if she could be my mate. So I reached for the napkin that lay close to her hand on the counter, and let mine subtly brush hers. When no reaction came from the mark - and encircled star - on the back of my neck, I sighed heavily and made my order.

“What’s your name, Sir?”

I smiled, retreating my hand, “Kim Taehyung.”

I woke up this morning to the news that a gunman had opened fire on hundreds of innocent civilians. As you’d expect, I was heartbroken, angry, and upset. As I watched the news, I felt a horrible sinking feeling in my gut: it was deja vu. I had been in this exact situation before.

A year and a half ago i woke up to a lazy day in the middle of summer. It seemed that nothing could go wrong - until it did. I turned my tv on to find what was deemed the deadliest mass shooting in history being covered in every news channel. It was immediately deemed terrorism, as it was an act of hate to unarmed civilians. I was horrified that such things still happened. I was horrified that gun control laws weren’t immediately being created within the aftermath.

This was the exact feeling I experienced today.

I went on twitter to see if I could find news of gun control laws being made, but all I could find were thoughts and prayers. This truly upset me. How can you pray for an end to hate but never let it happen? How can you express your disgust for such an event but do nothing to prevent it from happening again? How can you be so upset about something like this, then inevitably let it go after a week?

The Bible says that you can only achieve what you pray for by acting on what you want. If you prayed for peace in our world, then be an advocate for peace. Spread awareness. Support the creation of gun control laws. Express your concerns to the public. Be a bright change in a dark, constant society.

I’d like to lastly point out that, before the gunman was identified as a white male, many immediately blamed the event on poc. People immediately recognized the gunman as a terrorist. However, when the news got out that a white man had opened fire, people started to change their wording. “Lone wolf gunman”, “Male”, never acknowledging that a WHITE MAN had been responsible for the deadliest shooting in U.S. history. When did the color of one’s skin determine the weapon in one’s hand? The thought was put there by the media. Change that. Acknowledge that this white man is a terrorist by definition. Remind everyone that white people have done evil to this world many times, and this is only one example.


Speak out.