"Hi! I'm Sameer Morgan and I'm a 17 year old high school student. I'm a bit of a klutz... and some people might say I'm a hopeless romantic--or whatever. One day, this talking (yeah girl, they be talking in whole English) cat named Luna told me to s...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Andre lands in the middle of a literal warzone. He jumps out of the way of somebody wrestling their opponent to the ground but nearly bumps into two women pulling at each other's hair and punching one another in the face at the same time. "What the fuck." It's a good thing that transforming blows the high he was getting from Clarence's weed coffee muffin, because he wouldn't be able to take any of this while under the influence. He was the only one that knew what 'personal favorite' meant when Clarence referred to the pink wrapped ones.
"This is insane." There are mobs everywhere, groups of people in a fit of rage, fighting for no reason. Rage. Andre doesn't like the feeling crawling up his spine. On a normal basis, people faint when they get their life energy stolen. They don't usually decide to start a riot. He presses his lips together.
"Who are you calling insane!?" Andre just barely dodges the swipe to his nose. He cocks his fist back and stops in the middle of it. Using his increased strength might break this person's bones and hardly count as fair, but his hesitation also causes him to get socked in the jaw.
"Fuck!" He lets the curse loose as he stumbles backwards, then the man is coming at him again. He isn't particularly fast but that punch really hurt. He hears another battle cry a few feet away from him, and then somebody else is running towards him too. Andre turns and peeps somebody else coming from his 9 o'clock as well, and then before he knows it, the entire crowd is converging on him.
🌙💦🔥⚡
There would normally be an exposure problem at this time of day, but the students of the university she ends up at are not focused on her at all, they're rioting in the weirdest way? She jumps at the sound of shattering glass, the sounds of car tires screeching to a stop. Imani stumbles forward as somebody slams into her on their way back inside what appears to be a packed dorm building. From the fully windowed foyer area, it looks like people are fighting over each other–but she can't see why...
As she moves further down the walkway, she sees people coming out of the on-campus store have their arms full of food. If they're not fighting, they are consuming food and freakishly docile about it. Imani even sees somebody tipping an entire gallon of iced coffee to their lips and drinking it without stopping. Another person digs their hands into a fresh package of uncooked ground turkey, stuffing their mouth and snarling as they chew vigorously. Imani shifts her gaze to her own stomach as it growls in protest.
It brings up nasty flashbacks of her middle school years. She remembers the crushing pressure of eyes on her at family functions while everyone moved down the buffet line to get food. Imani remembers feeling that same pressure when she was at home; the same parents who were constantly strong-arming her to study so she could get phenomenal grades were the same parents telling her she should quit spending all her time inside the house. Her mother was at it more than her father.
