Assassination Classroom Wallpapers 소설 & 이야기

He had expensive oil paintings with an almost edgy theme decorated on the walls. Huh. Guess the cold and stern man next to me did have some colours in his life. His room was cozy, with several doors I was sure led to other rooms. I jumped when I felt an arm bound itself around my squishy waist. "I'm sorry," I breathed out. "Your interior had me stuck in another world for a sec. I just haven't seen anything like this in," I paused for a few seconds, "forever." He hummed and moved to stand in front of me. He tipped my chin to his face, before saying, "Although I prefer to always have those pretty eyes on me," My lips parted when he leaned down a little. "I like seeing your pretty eyes widen a

In the next second, she reappears, hooked on the pointy part of the high pole that connects to the classroom ceiling, screaming in abject terror before her body hits the stone floor at the front of the classroom with a loud crack. Dead, killed by the Vel Morin…

Although she was intelligent, she was not fully aware of what kind of world she had been thrust into. She was still naïve enough to think that this war had both positive and evil sides. He proceeded to the cabinet in his room's corner and used a little key he concealed to open it. Inside, the low light shone over rows of weaponry. Bullets, knives, and firearms that were necessary for survival. He reached for a gun filling it with bullets. If Adrian thought he could just come in here and mess up with him, he was purely mistaken. Without saying a word, Nicholas quietly moved to the door and closed it, blocking the light. His senses sharpened as he stepped into the hallway, and he tuned in for

Maybe I could breathe. The lecture hall for Art History 201 was already buzzing when I slipped through the heavy wooden doors. The room was a cavernous space with tiered seating, faded posters of Renaissance masterpieces plastered on the walls, and the faint hum of fluorescent lights overhead. Morning chatter echoed off the high ceilings—scraping chairs, rustling papers, snippets of gossip about weekend parties. I scanned the rows, my heart lifting slightly when I spotted Jenna waving eagerly from the second row, her wild curls bouncing like she was signaling a rescue plane.

Don’t forget who you are when they try to file you down. Then she turned toward the west wing. Salle C looked like a chapel that had given up on God and decided to worship velocity instead. High windows let in a washed-out light that turned dust motes into lazy ghosts. The gleaming floor bore the faint scuffs of a thousand impacts, quiet testimony to years of rhythm and aggression. Racks of foils and epees lined the walls like orderly threats. Old black-and-white photos of champions stared down, all hard eyes and humorless mouths.

I located the class. Inside, cool air greeted me. The corridors smelled faintly of disinfectant and new paint. I found Room 103. I found the students I met earlier were already inside and new ones. My seat was still reserved. All eyes on me. I summoned courage. I slipped into it, not looking at anyone. The classroom had a large smartboard at the front, clean tables arranged in rows, and posters of human anatomy on the walls. A model skeleton stood in the corner. I placed my folder on the table and glanced around. Most of the students looked. I read their minds swiftly.

Moments Later Medical Wing [Omniscient P.O.V] The corridors were silent. Flickering lantern light. Recovery salts on the air. Rhythmic breathing of sleeping students. A shadow detached from the ceiling. The assassin moved like oil on water. Black silk absorbing light. Jagged glass dagger in his hand. Coated in paralyzing neurotoxin. Target: the private ward at the end of the hall. The girl who had shaken the Academia to its bones.

I flip her off sweetly. Delilah watches me with a completely unimpressed expression. “Dead to me,” I mouth to her. I drag my finger across my throat in an exaggerated slicing motion. She rolls her eyes, but a small smile slips through before she turns back to the front. “Jack the Ripper,” Mr. Madden announces. A photograph appears on the digital board—grainy, black and white, and horrifying. The mutilated body of a woman sprawled in an alley. “Ew,” Tessa blurts out loudly. A ripple of disgust moves through the classroom. Some students sit up straighter, others groan softly or turn their heads away.

>>Xxx Destiny Aitsuji xxX<< Tall walls? Check. Traps? Check. Homing lasers? Check. Deadly chemicals and bio-toxic waste bombs? Check. Plasma rays? Double check. This was an Area for the mentally unsound not the mentally paranoid. It wasn’t hard to get through it but it was absolutely ridiculous. Now I understood what Nash was taking about.

Every time he walked into the room it was as if his soul was renewed. The wall was painted in the shade of scarlett, a symbol of love and passion, the floor was carpeted in a similar burgundy shade and there was a queen sized bed with clean white sheet and red weighted blanket covering the half middle part of it. From the first glance it appeared like a completely normal room, but when one looked closely they would find that the entire wall was adorned with picture frames containing none other but Vian’s face in them. Some were her pictures from during her college days, some were her more recent pictures he was able to take from the media and from the people around her who were naïve enough