Grace’s brow quirked at the sight of one of the acrobats’ stunts. The man was hoisting a much, much smaller woman into the air, whilst she somehow simultaneously managed to bend her left leg and hook it around the back of her neck. The toe of her ballet slip-on stuck out oddly from behind her head. 
“You cannot,” Grace began, her right hand cutting through the air in a firm gesture, “convince me that that is graceful. In the slightest.”

  • I: Do you think The Weeknd would like me? I mean... am I the type of woman he likes?
  • G: Did you ever just stood in front of a mirror and looked in your own eyes to see your heart?
  • I: He wants to fuck me, not my heart.

Hal often tried to make sure he ran a different route whenever he could to stop himself from falling into a mindless runner at risk of being slapped down by a car or not really appreciating how lovely Devil’s Point was first thing in the morning. He was well aware that the Springfest was ongoing but he didn’t make much effort to go given that he had seen the festival come and go every year since he was a boy. The magic and the life that he experienced in it was long gone in his eyes now given a number of ghosts that lingered in the town that seemed to taunt him at this particular time of year.

Still, he supposed he should probably go and show his face and so, after a later than normal run around the park, he settled in the middle of the festivities. Sporting his workout clothing and a water bottle in contrast to his usual smarter attire and vodka, he was feeling a little less against the sickly joy in the air. 

He was quite content just mulling around when he caught sight of someone nursing a coffee. God, he could do with one of those. “You,” he gestured at the other person, a rare smile on his face to hide his pre-coffee grumbles. “Did you get that from around here?”

anonymous asked:

3. “we got into a really heated wii tennis match at the rec center and now i wanna bang you”

Wow was this one fun to write - I’ve never done a party-esque college AU before, and I have definitely been missing out! So thanks for inspiring this :) 

Clarke stared down the rowdy crowd, eyes scanning them triumphantly as she dared an opponent to rise. Based on what she saw in front of her, she felt pretty safe resting on her laurels. All of bros and biddies of the throng were sufficiently drunk on the free beer, warm weather, and the near taste of summer freedom that only her college’s Greek Row Springfest weekend could brew up, and no one seemed brave, or even alert enough, to challenge her for the crown.

“Anybody? Anybody daring enough to take on the reigning Wii Tennis champion?” Raven shouted into a megaphone, shit-eating grin on her face. “C’mon, she’s not as scary as she looks. I promise, I live with her—well, she’s kinda terrifying when she has her avocado-banana-oatmeal-whatever facemask on. Then she looks like the Hulk. But seriously—somebody’s gotta stop her! Otherwise she’ll be insufferable, and like I said, I live with her, so someone save me—”

“Somebody save me from you getting your hands on a megaphone!” Clarke yelled back, an equally pleased grin on her face.

“Zip it, Griffin,” Raven barked. “Unless you want photos of your alter-ego Hulk self surfacing on Facebook.”

Clarke rolled her eyes as the crowd cheered at the banter between her and her co-president. Those photos were going nowhere near Facebook, that much she knew. Raven was all bark and no bite (okay, maybe a little bit of bite), or so Clarke had learned almost immediately when they had been roomed together their first year in Alpha Rho Kappa. Between Raven’s passionate drive and her cool own logic, they had taken the sorority by storm, making it one of the most popular ones in Mt. Weather University’s Greek system in record time. They now were serving in their second year as co-presidents; it was their last year as well, considering they were graduating in two weeks.

Two weeks. Clarke felt her smile slip just the slightest, because she didn’t really want to think about how her best friend was moving halfway across the country to go for a PhD in engineering at MIT while she’d be staying in California for medical school. They had two weeks left, and one of those weeks would be spent holed up in the library for finals, so really there was just one left.  

One week, seven days, god knows how many hours (too few, that Clarke did know) to spend wrapping up what had been a whirlwind four years. Embarrassingly, Clarke’s eyes began to sting, and she forcefully widened her smile, not wanting to burst into tears in front of all of Greek row. The smile froze on her face, however, when she realized that Raven was finally pointing to the solitary volunteer who was brave (read: arrogant, stupid, annoying) enough to take up the Wii Tennis challenge against her.

“Absolutely not!” Clarke yelled, scowling at Raven as her familiar (too familiar) opponent vaulted onto the stage, a smirk on his face. She was convinced Bellamy Blake—the ass who was her little’s older brother and also a masters student in history at Mt. Weather—didn’t know how to smile, just smirk, at least in her presence (she’d seen evidence to the contrary in the million pictures of him in O’s room, but she usually ignored that fact, and especially right now.)

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Do you all remember that time in 2013 when over 3 thousand students at the University of Delaware rioted just for the sake of looking fun? Or that time in 2014 when students at the University of Dayton rioted because they beat Stanford? How about the time in 2010 when James Madison University students rioted during “Springfest” because police reasonably asked the 8,000 students to disperse? And that time in 2011 when over a thousand people rioted in Vancouver after the Stanley Cup?

You probably remember these. But do you remember these people being classified as thugs or even anything remotely derogatory towards race? No? That’s because they weren’t. They were just “drunk” or “kids being kids.”

White people will lose their shit like pit bulls high off crystal meth if their favorite athlete so much as touches a football. But how dare black people revolt against the depravity and degradation they are forced to endure in a system that unethically utilizes racial profiling and denies the constitutional rule of law for police, right?

This is in no way an endorsement for the use of violence and destruction as a mechanism for justice and change. However, that does not mean that you can use these reactions from injustice as a pedestal to aggrandize the white race, especially when you can’t possibly put yourself in the position of a victim of racial injustice. 

So please, take a damn seat because you know you’d do the same exact thing had the situation been flipped.