Assassination Classroom Wallpapers Novels & Stories

Doris had already given her a stern warning to never miss classes again. “Come on, Titi,” she murmured unhappily, “Let’s go to class.” Titi whimpered, wishing they could go anywhere but back to class. When she got to the classroom, she saw it immediately. Spray-painted across the wall in huge, dripping letters: SAGE IS A SISI WHO GOT BEATEN UP BY A WOMAN The classroom erupted in laughter the moment she walked in. Talia stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the words. Each word felt like they were throwing knives at her.

“Ah, dear niece, so this is what an average day in the life looks like… waltzing with your kill and staring right into their eyes right before you snuff the light out of it… brilliant!” It was obvious he wanted a reaction out of her, and on a very good day, he would have gotten nothing, but today wasn’t exactly going as planned for the plus-sized assassin. Barbara moved with a speed that would have stunned the girl she used to be. In one fluid motion, she was behind him. She didn't bother shedding the server's jacket; she simply reached beneath it. The cold steel of a ceramic knife was pressed firmly against the pulse point of his neck before he could say another word.

Of course, his ass would be happy we’re having a literal human-hating monster teaching us this class. A noise caught my attention, turning me back to the front of the classroom just in time to watch Professor Stefan literally throw Mr. Ward out of the classroom as if he were a piece of trash. He walked over to the door and slammed it, blocking out the screams from an now injured Mr. Ward.

Jayson roller his eyes, but at the back of his mind, the idea was exciting. The promise of his father's arrival seemed to soften his features slightly. Together, they walked towards the imposing entrance. The mahogany doors, etched with the Ashworth crest, swung open silently, revealing a polished marble foyer. Inside, the Kindergarten classroom was a kaleidoscope of bright colors and meticulously organized learning centers. Sunlight streamed through the tall, arched windows, illuminating the vibrant artwork displayed on the walls – abstract splashes of color framed in simple, elegant frames. A meticulously curated collection of educational toys occupied one corner, while another boasted a s

POV: Mira The classroom exploded into chaos. Students were screaming. Some jumped out of their chairs. Some pushed toward the door. Others climbed on desks trying to see what had happened. Within seconds the entire classroom was packed. Students from the hallway were already squeezing through the door and windows, trying to look inside. Everyone wanted to see. Because right in the middle of the classroom floor— Kevin was lying there. Not moving. Blood spreading slowly across his shirt. Bella had dropped to the floor beside him.

There were no words. Just an attachment. Frowning, I tapped the image. At first, it looked blurry. Dark shapes behind frosted glass. Then my stomach dropped. Two figures. Standing extremely close together inside a classroom. One taller. One leaning forward slightly. Even distorted through the blurry quality, I recognized us immediately. My breathing stopped. The timestamp at the bottom corner read: BLACKWOOD HIGH — ROOM 214. The classroom. My fingers suddenly felt numb around the phone. No text followed. No threat. No explanation.

Thankfully, most of the stuff just involved hacking into certain systems and unraveling encryptions for a couple of Assassins. I look around the living empty living room and glimpse into my room, but it’s empty. Heart pounding with panic, I check the bathroom, but it’s also empty. It’s only when I hear sounds coming from my gym that my breathing steadies. I watch from the shadows as April practices a couple of fighting moves. At one point, she takes two knives from my weapons wall and expertly twirls and throws them. She really is good. Maybe even better than me. I’m just not sure if I want to be with another Assassin. I know that I’m being unfair, but I meant it when I said that I needed ti

I say while skimming through the pamphlet on my hand. "Tsk. Tsk. Not gonna happen. They are going to love me. You just see it." She jumps to make a turn at me and points her arm like a dancer. "I'm gonna rock the school tomorrow." "We have reached the classroom, rockstar." I say and put the pamphlet in Laila's file and open the door of the classroom. The white painted door makes a creaking noise and we walk inside the quiet room. It looks just like any other nursery classroom, reminding me of Shin Chan's Kasukabe school. Cute little colored benches stand in a row of five and the back wall is stuffed with blue shelves that contain stationary items, bags, ribbons and board games. Plus, there i

Walter's classroom. A king-sized mattress waited on the floor in the far corner. A plethora of boxes were haphazardly stacked in a pile under the window. The whiteboard had all sorts of strange names and drawings on it. I wondered what it all meant as I glanced around, analyzing a table covered with odd trinkets. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it. I was standing in the room of a madman. My entire school had been gutted and horribly vandalized. I moved toward the table and pulled out a chair to sit.

Memento The Teacher’s Common Room door opens to a surprise for Jaanvi, a pleasant one at that. The 20 X 20 feet room, known mostly for an insipid silence amid the vibrant din of the campus, gloomy tube-lights, antique ceiling fans, mammoth bookshelves along the walls, empty chairs and desks with books and notebooks scattered on them most of the day, while their occupants, the teachers, would be engaged in delivering classroom sessions, now looks packed with people – senior students, colleagues and support staff. Often synonymous with inactivity, except for tea-sipping, cookies-munching, lesson-planning, assignment-checking tit-bits of conversation spells among colleagues, this room is now bu