#student body president elections

[feelingtheaster99]

I don’t understand why Riz heard about the student body president becoming the acting principal and assumed The Rat Grinders want to kill Mazey? Like if anything I think that explains why Kipperlilly so badly wants to become the student body president, but but I think she knows that killing the current one unprovoked is probably not going to do her any favors?

[emiko-matsui]

a world where kipperlilly isn't a villain but just running for president is so fucking funny. you're a pedantic perfect straight a student with anger management issues who does all the extra curriculars and wants to be student body president for her senior year and then the person you're running against is a sweaty lesbian who wears a yellow tracksuit every day to school and who eats her lunch out of a trashbag and she walks up to you wearing a cowboy hat filled with salsa that her friends are dipping chips in, to wish you luck in the election. she wins

[thisisnotthenerd]

the rat grinders timeline

after this last episode i feel like i need to clarify all of this so i can get an idea of what the scheme actually is. anyway:

pre-high school:

porter is a scion of the house of cliffbreaker, formerly the house of sunstone, who sought to take the name of ankarna and shift her divine domain from dawn and justice to war and conquest. the house expressed frustration with ankarna for not being willing to strike ruvina or cassandra and after the sundering of the cliffs of calcoth, went into hiding as the cliffbreakers.

porter is nominally a paladin of ankarna, but wishes to take her place as a deity of war and conquest, to be able to strike down cassandra and ruvina.

freshman year:

the high 5 heroes form on the first day of school: kipperlilly copperkettle, lucy frostblade, oisin hakinvar, ivy embra, ruben hopclap, mary ann skuttle.

that same day, the bad kids get detention and face down the corn cuties in the cafeteria. kristen and gorgug die and get brought back by aguefort. jace and porter are the first teachers on the scene; they are established as a duo. may have been attempting to install the rage crystals in kristen and gorgug.

kipperlilly notably doesn't like riz, and feels that the bad kids are getting special treatment. all of the rat grinders have animosity towards the mad kids in some manner.

the high 5 heroes take easy quests that they know they will succeed at.

kalina enters the spy's tongue curse with jace and porter, and is only able to talk about ragh because he was tangential

prompocalypse: kalvaxus falls. yes! is borne in the gym. crown of the nightmare king is stolen. ragh sees arianwen with kalina, then jace and porter and gets kalina transferred into his body via a lay on hands from porter.

sophomore year:

at some point, the high 5 heroes are brought in by jace and porter and start facing high level monsters after they are defeated by porter/jace, thus grinding them for xp.

name change from high 5 heroes to rat grinders--ivy, oisin, ruben, and mary ann for, kipperlilly and lucy against.

lucy is given an mcat for paladin classes so that she might become the champion of ankarna (old)

porter kills "lydia barkrock", likely seeking to release and/or destroy bakur

kalina splits off to raise the nightmare king again, with assistance from angwyn and arianwen abernant. she is defeated and thus unable to work with jace and porter for a time. the nightmare king is apparently integral to the raising of porter as a fetal deity; perhaps as an associated deity, the nightmare king would guide his ascension.

nightmare king is reconstituted as cassandra, championed by kristen applebees.

the rat grinders go on their own spring break quest to the mountains of chaos, presumably to visit the temple of the fallen sun. they are accompanied by jace stardiamond. they do not find the name of ankarna, but likely start establishing the teleportation circle.

after the quest, they are all implanted with the rage crystals and start manifesting more power and anger. this is presumably because they died. and were resurrected.

lucy goes back on the agreement and reaffirms her commitment to ruvina. she withdraws her change of deity paperwork. the rat grinders + porter kill her and bury her in the far haven woods.

porter has correspondence with bobby dawn about collaboration and the potential uses of devil's honey.

mazey phaedra is elected student body president and is given a faculty request to remove the inaugural period of following student body president from the bylaws

summer of the night yorb:

night yorb is released; the bad kids spend the summer chasing down the cult of the night yorb and building the solar lasso. they are out of elmville and generally focused on the red waste

church of sol/helioic church loses followers due to the long night

kipperlilly prepares to run for student body president

the rat grinders request buddy dawn as their replacement cleric

kipperlilly tracks down eugenia shadow and threatens to dig up her grave, after waiting until the first moment of her junior year

ruben writes “in space no one can hear you scream” and it becomes the song of the summer, outcompeting fig and the cig figs. he later writes "get mad!" with porter's advice

the loam family faces embezzlement charges wrt frosty fair and the location of frosty fair (the festival of frost) moves to the thistlespring tree

thistlespring tree is established as a root warden for elmville

the soil is laced with rage crystals

kvx bank changes from red to blue, signaling the presence of oisin's ancestor as their backer

junior year:

aguefort goes on holiday with ayda to the dawn of time (time quangle). gilear goes on holiday with hallariel. this leaves the school in the hands of grix, who was intended to eliminate threats to the school, and jace stardiamond as vice principal. the existing magical protections on the school are still present--they cannot kill mazey and elmville cannot be plane shifted while the AAA is in session.

kipperlilly begins campaigning only to be faced with the ineffable kristen applebees and her campaign manager, the ball

porter refuses gorgug's initial mcat request, hoping to incite rage in him

porter starts taking ambrosia to prepare his body for ascension, using rage to contain himself and not proceed to the afterlife.

the loam family is murdered and their case is dropped

cassandra comes to the astral plane and is trapped and killed. she remains in stasis, surrounding and protecting ankarna

fabian hosts the first party of the year: oisin starts setting his ping-pong ball traps and steals adaine's mephits in order to alter the cloud rider engine. ivy sees fig, transformed as lucy. the bad kids interact with buddy. ankarna pushes yes! through to kristen. gertie, who has been supplying the devil's honey, becomes nemeses with fabian

fig multiclasses as a paladin and is taught by porter--she is encouraged to rage, and pushed away from being a paladin of cassandra.

buddy is also encouraged to become a paladin and gets mcat paperwork

ruben performs at frosty faire and starts the ritual at the thistlespring tree--grix shows up to stop him and is defeated by the bad kids

yolanda badgood follows up with jace about lucy's death--she is brought to the far haven woods and killed. the bad kids find the bodies

the bad kids go to fallinel and find the name of ankarna on the ancient menhirs, and are faced with divine intervention from cassandra and galicaea, unbeknownst to the rat grinders.

they eliminate the curse of the armor of pride and remove bakur from lydia barkrock

fig writes dawn of justice and takes dominion of ankarna's original domain

bobby dawn fails kristen and sends the bad kids to the last stand

kristen catches kipperlilly killing buddy dawn during the last stand

buddy is raised by porter using a rage crystal

rat grinders go to ground, and prepare to go back to the temple of the fallen sun. constant nondetection from ruben, oisin, and possibly ivy

adaine catches jace stardiamond with a scrying into his office

bad kids do teacher evaluations: fig does porter & zara as one instead of two--this gives them the sacred scroll with the name of the intended deity written by the previous deity's champion. zara tells fig one was never submitted for her.

fig writes righteous rebel, makes her oath to ankarna, and releases both songs as singles that rocket up the charts

ruben sees wanda childa die

bad kids go to the temple of the fallen sun and investigate. fig is vindicated about porter.

fig gives the false name (bacharath) to porter and he stuns her in the hall

riz gets into his office and figures out the ascension scheme

the bad kids go to ruben's house and go through the rat grinders' plans

election night: the storm is triggered, the plans for seacaster manor are triggered; cloud rider engine is set and the enchanted ping-pong balls go off. they plan to have oisin's ancestor strike down the bad kids as they make ready to transport elmville during graduation.

the ritual

the ritual is centered on aguefort adventuring academy and requires certain things:

the location where a god was borne (the gym)

the ascending deity (porter), who is a champion of the new domain and has a body prepared for ascension

mortal followers seeking to change the domain/raise ankarna (the rat grinders + jace)

divine attributes of the deity (hammer, armor, etc.)

the writing of the name of the fetal deity on sacred scrolls by the champion of the old deity (fig)

the physical divine domain (elmville, suffused with rage crystals and transported to the astral realm), which requires the removal of the protections on the town that were cast by aguefort

the metaphorical divine domain (ruben's song get mad)

the nightmare king, as an associated deity and the one who would nurture the new deity

and the name of the old deity (ankarna) that they might sunder it and in her image make a new god

[exitwound]

My fellow americans, I have decided to drop out of the democratic race. I haven’t shared this beyond my close family — Treasured Jill and Lovely Hunter — but I also wanted to take this moment to announce that my pronouns are he/they/she. I am still a catholic. I am also a democrat. I am also dying, and as I felt my soul pulling from my body and towards the Infinite and Heavenly Pools Of Tranquil Waterfalls And Citrus Compassion (my new property on the amalfi coast where I will be retiring) my mind coruscated into a kaleidoscopic fractal, my ego frayed apart like a well-wrought rope tied around the twinkling stars I will soon be consumed by, and I came to know the glittering multitudes dormant, and rustling, within me. It has been the greatest honor serving as your president and to share this final chapter of my self with you, along with this first chapter of my becoming. Im sorry that the Nasty Courts stripped you of the student loan forgiveness you deserved… We all deserve forgiveness one day. And Im sorry about the economy, but it’s not my fault. I have started seeing a therapist to work through the toxic shame I carry on behalf of this nation and its relationship to my avoidant-fearful attachment style. As for the election, although such matters seem small and insignificant now that I have glimpsed the vast and sparkling universe that presses against the silk stitches of my cursed soul, I must attend to these matters while my days on this sick and gorgeous earth persist, even as they come to an end… I will be nominating Beautiful Kamala to take my place in the race. Vote blue… And vote for her💙

With love and grace, joe biden 💖🍋🪽

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue. 

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling.  “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone. 

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates. 

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you. 

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure. 

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his  handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now. 

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze. 

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward. 

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall. 

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes. 

“I usually walk. It’s okay.” 

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit. 

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest. 

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him. 

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand. 

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly. 

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny. 

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body. 

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused. 

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time. 

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl. 

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room. 

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you. 

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion. 

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles. 

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table. 

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?” 

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time. 

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says. 

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently. 

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event. 

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

[pomefioredove]

Noble Bell ; Book One, Part I ; The King of Truands

what if you were sent to Noble Bell College instead?

type of post: series characters: rollo, original characters (pierrot, bou, phoenix) additional info: reader is gender neutral, this is mostly my own vision, influenced by Disney's Hunchback, the 1939 movie, and the original novel

prologue | the king of truands, one | the king of truands, two |

Chapter One

That night, while you slept on uncomfortable bed of straw and mildewed wood, a council was held.

It is important to note that, for all its rules, and there were many, the body of staff of the proud Noble Bell College were rather removed from the common life. Outside the realm of the lecture hall and the office, the scholars were governed by a democratic and elected student council, that which organized the events, kept order, and administered discipline, when necessary.

The council was entirely egalitarian, but there are three key members: The Justice of the Peace, now sitting at the right hand of the stand, looking rather bored, The Vice President, M. Bou de Neige, whom we have already met, and The President, who is unusually absent on this chilled evening.

These three people are responsible for an entire body of students. They are looked up to, not only as scholars, but as diplomats, peacekeepers, and leaders. They are expected to keep the students best interests close to heart, to be the bridge between the scholar and the staff, and this is no easy burden, despite most of the council being no older than sixteen years of age.

You must understand, then, the significance of tonight's council.

Gathered around the dark hall, illuminated by the fire burning at one end of the long room, scholars and staff alike exchange whispers, glances, and moods.

"As far as I'm aware, they're still on school grounds," the Justice of the Peace scratches his head with his quill, and a spurt of black ink stains his light brown hair. "One of my men saw them going with Gregoire to La Tombe."

Bou de Neige, who had, up until this point, been rather quiet, grimaces. "The fool. He just can't help himself, can he?"

"Hospitality is a virtue," says the headmaster, a graying, old man in a white cloak by name of Monsieur Diacre.

"Where is the President?"

"No one can find him," Bou says. "I will be speaking for him tonight."

"Perhaps we should postpone until he's been found?" a council member echoes.

"As much as I would like to, this matter is grave," Monsieur Diacre says. "A decision must be made tonight. The fate of this stranger depends on our council."

A low murmur reverberates through the room.

"Now, I have received word from two arcane academies, and there, no mention has been found of this place they say they came from, in any language, in any history. There is, in principle, no proof that this person has ever existed.

Despite this, they have appeared at our doorstep, in our clothes. By merit, the Bell of Solace has seen them fit as a student of Noble Bell College."

Bou stands. "With all due respect, sir, I strongly disagree. How do we know they are not a thief, a beggar, or a vagrant? You know well the problems Fleur City has-"

"There is another thing," Monsieur Diacre says, calm despite the tension in the hall. "Perhaps even more grave."

"And that is?"

"If you will recall, some hours ago, in my office?"

"Yes," Bou says, sitting down again with his arms crossed over his broad chest. "A useless conversation about their home, which does not exist, because they are a liar, a thief."

"Not so. Remember the way their eyes clouded when we discussed the Bell, the school, and the ceremony? How they asked, in that confounded tone, about magic? Even you must know that they were truthful then,"

He narrows his eyes. The Justice of the Peace, who had, up until that point, been scratching the "Ph" of his name onto the stand with the fine point of his quill, finally looked up.

"You don't mean to say they don't know about magic?"

"That's impossible," Bou says, though his eyes are downcast, seemingly lost in the memory of their conversation.

"Perhaps we have become too dependent on the academics. The sciences," Monsieur Diacre says. "That we forget the power of miracle."

"You are sure, then- that this person- this stranger- has no magic?"

"None whatsoever?" the Justice of Peace echoes.

Monsieur Diacre gives them both a hard stare. "Monsieur de Neige, you were closest to them. Did anything seem strange as you walked them to my office?"

The boy presses his lips together to make a firm line. "...I did have such an impression,"

"We must consider the reality," he continues, "That is that we have a young person, born and raised without magic, on our campus."

A heavy silence follows. Only the matrons, the professors of Noble Bell College, old and dressed in gray, bell-shaped habits, murmur amongst themselves.

"But I do hope," one whispers, "That we will not keep them."

"I pity the housewardens if they are to be carried to their doors for shelter. I would rather shelter a thief!"

"A sign of bad luck for certain. The greatest calamities! It's no wonder we had such low exam scores last year,"

Bou leans on his elbows against the wood of the stand and grumbles.

"So, what will we do?"

"There are options," the headmaster says. "This very building was once a symbol of hope, a sanctuary for outcasts. I know how our scholars pride themselves on tradition..."

"And the other?" Bou asks, eyes narrowing.

"I am of the opinion," one older, respected professor says. "That it would be better for the scholars of Noble Bell, and the people of Fleur City, if that strange thing were not in our walls."

The room erupts into a frenzy of murmurs, whispers, and hisses. Monsieur Diacre sighs.

"...That is a possibility. I have received offer from Headmaster Crowley of Night Raven College, as he is looking for a new boarder, and would be willing to accommodate a magicless persons. We could-"

"That will not be necessary,"

Despite the obvious unrest, the symphony of whispers, the crackling of the fire, the single voice, the unwavering presence at the large doors of the hall, cold, dignified, carries over the room.

"President Flamme," Bou de Neige says. He is not greeted in return.

"Please thank Monsieur Crowley for the offer, and send him on his way. They will be staying at Noble Bell," the boy says, walking briskly into the room, cutting through the mass of students and staff like a hot blade.

He climbs the steps to the stand and sits between the Vice President and the Justice of the Peace. Both stare at him as if they were looking at a ghost.

"On what grounds, Monsieur Flamme?" the headmaster asks. A few heads nod in agreement.

"By our rules," he says. "If the Bell of Solace has chosen them, then they are ours."

For the first time, Bou seems flustered, stumbling over his words and making a spectacle of himself.

"But- well, yes, that is the rule, but- you must consider- there will always be exceptions! They made trouble at orientation, they ran away with Gregoire, and that's not even mentioning- no magic! How can they be expected to study at this college with no magic?"

"Compose yourself, Vice President," Flamme says sternly, folding his hands in front of himself on the table. "Noble Bell has seen them fit for our academy. There are greater powers at work here.

And who knows? Our Bell works in mysterious ways. Some day, they may be of great use to us."

"You are suggesting we enroll them as a student, then?"

The council waits with baited breath. After an amount of suspense, he nods.

"I am. Shall we vote?"

Chapter Two

You jolt awake to the sound of hard knocking on the door.

The makeshift home Pierrot had brought you to the evening prior looked quite different in the light of morning. You could now make out the interior:

On all sides, you are, once again, surrounded by stone walls. On one, the door, large and heavy. Above you, the ceiling is high, vaulted, and tiled.

Everything is thick with grime and dust.

On either side of you are what appear to be two large stone benches, engraved with arches, men in robes, and writing in a language you don't understand. Atop these benches are a number of things: papers, quills, bundles of clothing, a block of moldy cheese, and many, many books, piled and shelved as if this small place, whatever it was when Pierrot found it, had been baptized a library.

The boy himself, across the straw-covered floor, is just now waking, bleary-eyed and confused.

"Who is it?" asks Pierrot.

A low, annoyed voice comes from the other side of the stone door.

"Housewarden and Vice President de Neige. I've come on official council duty,"

The color drains from Pierrot's face. "Yes, just a moment!"

"Pierrot?" you ask, following him as he scrambles to his feet.

"You must speak to him first, I'll be out in a moment!" he ushers you to the heavy door, drags it open, and then closes it behind you with the unpleasant scrape of stone on stone.

The morning on the field is crisp and chilled, somehow much colder than the little stone room. Bou de Neige is standing in front of you, his arms crossed, an unpleasant scowl on his lips.

"Is he hiding?"

"He said he would be out in a moment,"

"Very well," Bou says. "I suppose we may as well start without him. I've come to prepare you for your classes."

You blink. "...My... classes..."

He scowls again. "Yes, and don't look so dumb. A student of Noble Bell ought to conduct themselves with the poise of the Righteous Judge himself. The council and staff held a vote last night. Despite your obvious lack of abilities, the Bell of Solace has chosen you for Noble Bell College, and thus, you will be permitted to study with us for the foreseeable future. Understood?"

You nod. He seems... unhappy, you think. Or perhaps he's always like that...

"Good," Bou crosses his arms. "You should consider yourself quite lucky. You have powerful allies on your side."

A loud, obtrusive crashing, and a high scream come from inside the little building. The stone door suddenly cries open again, and out comes Pierrot, now dressed in a black and white uniform, similar to de Neige's, except with pants rather than a frock. His hat is lopsided. Bou stares at him with clear disdain.

"This concerns you, as well Gregoire," de Neige says, hands on his hips.

"Me?"

"Wipe that stupid look off your face," he scowls. "Now, listen. You,"

de Neige points at your chest. "...Are useless in the practice of magic. Correct?"

You nod.

"And you-" he points at Pierrot. "Have lost your scholarship, your dorm accommodations, and your respect. You buffoon."

Pierrot blushes and sticks his hands in his pockets, as if feeling their emptiness. One has a finger-sized hole you can see his pinky wiggling out of.

"The council has come up with a solution that would be beneficial to the both of you. As an act of charity, the expenses of the new scholar have been covered by the college. That includes your books, uniforms, and meals. This does not change the fact that you at a clear academic disadvantage; magicless.

Here is the proposition: you and Gregoire, from the moment you accept, will count for one student. You will share your school materials, meals, and clothing provided by your scholarship, you will study together, take the same classes, and in return, he will perform the necessary magic for both of you."

You and Pierrot share a glance.

Bou sighs. "I, personally, would have never come up with such a ridiculous idea, but... unfortunately... your old tutor seems to have faith in you still, Gregoire,"

Pierrot's face goes pale. "You mean-"

"Either that," de Neige interrupts. "Or he simply thinks you are too weak-willed and incompetent to take advantage of them. I expect your answer before the first bell."

He turns on his heels, long, dark hair whipping behind him, and disappears into the grove, on a dirty cobblestone path back to the school.

"...Well?" a voice says from beneath you. You jump, and look down to see the goat, Hugo. Talking. You're still getting used to that...

"Where have you b... never mind," you say. "What do you think, P- Pierrot?"

You look back around to see the gentleman on his knees in front of you, his hands clasped as if in prayer. He's giving you terrible puppydog eyes.

"Please, please, please, this could be my only opportunity! I have nothing else! My studies- Noble Bell is everything!"

You grimace. "...I don't know. I just met you."

For a moment, he almost looks... taken aback, as if he found it strange of you to consider him, of all people, a suspicious character.

His voice drops, and he answers carefully.

"...I swear to you, by my quill, by my hopes of success, not to even approach you without your permission and consent, but, for the Judge's sake, give me a meal plan!"

Hugo bursts out into bleating laughter, and even you smile.

"...Alright," you say. "Let's go give him an answer, then."

Chapter Three

The dining hall, eerily void of living bodies at this early hour, is a thin, and humble building reaching towards the edge of the campus.

Hidden by the monotonous stone walls of the school, it is rather indistinct, the only remarkable thing being that it is held between courtyards on both sides, making it a sort of bridge between one row of buildings and the other, not unlike the stone bridges that hold the embrace between the island and the city.

This modest, almost dull exterior is deceptive, though, as appearances so often are. Once inside the hall, one is met with the magnificent vaulted ceilings, painted dark with stars, held high by the thinnest of thin, delicate arches on the walls, themselves sheltering bodies of stained glass in every color the eye can perceive. Warmed by candlelight and the fire crackling at one end of the magnificent hall, it is nothing short of... well, magic.

The body, no matter how exquisite, dull, or deformed, is nothing without the matter of the soul.

You tilt your head. In a sad sort of way, the feeling reminds you of your straw bed. Dirty, but warmer than the harsh morning outside.

"What did the building used to be?"

"Hm?"

Pierrot hums, smiling as if he had not heard you, preoccupied with piling his plate. You had counted sixteen strips of bacon so far. At this rate, he would build a tower high enough to touch the painted stars on the ceiling.

"Where you sleep. Your room. It's not a dorm, is it?" you ask, following behind, setting a fruit or two on his plate when the opportunity presents itself.

"More oranges," Hugo demands from beneath you. You concede.

Pierrot finishes off his mountain of breakfast with a few slices of bread, and then leads you off to a far corner of the magnificent dining hall.

"Oh, no. A mausoleum,"

"A what?"

"Don't worry, it's empty," he says. "...I think. I've never checked. I recall reading that the bodies from the old cemetery had been moved."

"Cemetery?"

"Fleur City is full of them," Hugo says. "I've been to my fair share. People just leave flowers all over 'em. A free meal is a free meal, right?"

Pierrot nods in agreement, though he doesn't really seem to be listening. You grimace.

"Yes. The field is covered in tombstones. They're quite pretty," he says. "But the bodies were reburied under the tiles in Noble Bell a long time ago."

Each thing they add seems to be more concerning than the last.

Hugo bleats. "You're gonna have to get used to the cadavers, y'know. This place is old, and full of 'em... and their parts,"

"Yuck,"

"Nonsense," Pierrot says. "There is beauty and life in everything, even death itself. Such is the danse macabre."

You and Hugo share a look. What did he say he was, again...?

"Do you think he came out like that, or was he taught?"

"Rude," Pierrot mumbles. "But one might say it runs in my family."

He offers you a slice of bread, and you decline. The headache you'd been fighting off since first light is making you nauseous.

"Tell us about your family," anything to distract yourself now.

Pierrot smiles, his features warming like the sun on a winter day. He always seems quite pleased to talk about himself.

"I'm afraid it's nothing interesting. My father is a notary, and I have five brothers, though most are older than I. The closest in age, a year younger, is at another arcane academy. Alas, I was disowned, and haven't spoken to them in some time,"

"Unsurprising," Hugo mutters. He snags the slice of bread that would have been yours off the plate, between his teeth, and returns to lying under the table.

You lean into your elbow. "Why were you disowned?"

"By my passion," he smiles. "See, I tried to be a guard, but wasn't brave enough. I became a religious man, but was not devout enough, and couldn't drink enough, anyway. I tried carpentry, but wasn't strong enough. At last, I realized I was good at nothing- therefore, I became a writer."

"And your family didn't approve?"

"Not quite. But then I was here," Pierrot becomes quiet, his eyes turned up at the colored windows of the hall with a sort of holy reverence.

"...And the rest is history."

You blink. Disowned by his family, stripped of his scholarship and thrown out of his own dorm by his housewarden?

He's resilient, at least. You'll give him that.

"And your scholarship?"

"Bah, that was nothing. I simply... printed a pamphlet on free thought that the school officials did not care for,"

"Your dorm?"

"I annoyed the housewarden,"

This guy can't catch a break. No wonder he was so desperate for your help.

"Who's the housewarden?" you ask, watching him absent-mindedly scratch beneath his cap.

"Of L'Universite? You've already met him. He is the one who came to see us this morning, Bou de Neige,"

You hum. Of course... Perhaps he is always that unhappy, then.

"I don't miss him. I kept to myself at L'Universite. The students were... unpleasant," Pierrot shudders, as if taken by some unfelt chill, and you raise an eyebrow.

He goes on without question. "You'd assume, with such a name, that the dorm is only for the most exemplary of scholars, but they're unruly. I was almost burnt alive only once, though,"

Huh. "Why is it called that?"

"The three dorms of Noble Bell are based upon the ancient divisions of Fleur City. On one side, the university district- L'Universite- on one, the aristocratic gardens- here, called La Ville- and in the center, the sacred island, which we call The City," he explains, snapping a crisp piece of bacon in half.

"...But the histories of the dorms have little to do with their personalities. They're only to pay homage to the time when Noble Bell was established. Up until Monsieur de Neige, L'Universite had no housewarden, as per tradition. It was overseen by the college itself..."

"Then the kids got too rough, and the administration had had enough of 'em. I heard about that," Hugo's voice comes from under the table.

Pierrot nods. "Now, de Neige has completely turned it around. He punishes anyone who steps out of line,"

This is a strange place, you think for the umpteenth time.

Chapter Four

Fed, sated, and warmed by good conversation, Pierrot leads you through the delicate halls of Noble Bell College with a renewed lust for life in his step.

He goes about, pointing towards windows and great pillars and plaques on the walls and floor, explaining their origins, which came from where, from what year and artist.

You nod along, content to just listen while your mind wandered.

It feels too real to be a dream, but it must be one. In your world, animals don't talk, humans don't cast spells, and schools don't have astrology classes.

Hugo had disappeared again, likely off looking for table scraps. He seemed to have a will of his own. Pierrot hadn't noticed yet.

"And the tile from this courtyard was repurposed from the Place de Grève..."

He talks so much to himself, it almost feels as if you are alone while right beside him. Despite that, and that he's facing away from you, his sunny self pointed toward the tiled courtyard he seems so enthusiastic about, you can't help but feel as if someone is watching you.

That strange, unnerving feeling had been following you since you left the dining hall. No matter how many times you turned over your shoulder, reassuring yourself that it was only your nerves, it lingered.

Every corner or so, another dignified scholar will pass you by, dressed in the same uniform, quiet, poised, looking straight ahead. Once, you walk by someone shrouded in a blue cloak, singing "Thaumarks to spare? Thaumarks to spare?" to whom you apologize for having nothing.

You don't even know what a thaumark is.

Pierrot leads you through yet another courtyard, and the feeling of eyes on your person never leaves.

It's beginning to weigh on you.

"How much longer?"

"Hm?" he finally turns to look at you, and the strange feeling subsides, slipping back into the shadows of the hall.

"Not much. Don't worry, Scriptorium is easy. As long as you pretend to be busy, no one will bother you,"

Chapter Five

Pierrot could not have given a truer description.

Though, he could have at least warned you about the boredom.

The melodious sound of forty quills on paper echoes off the stone walls and tiled floors. There is no talking, no eating, no foot-tapping, no whispers. The faint sound of the city, as close as it is, feels distant from here.

The parchment before you is as empty as it was at the beginning of class, and the book you'd been provided is on the very same page. The student in front of you has filled two pages already, delicately copying the contents of the book onto the parchment.

Pierrot, sitting beside you, seems to be writing something of his own. At least he seems entertained...

Then, all at once, everyone begins gathering their quills and ink, standing from their seats without a word. Pierrot jolts, shuffling around his things to cover his pages of writing as the other students pass him by.

Though he waits until everyone else is gone before getting up himself, avoiding their prying eyes is useless. Waiting outside the lecture hall is none other than his ex-housewarden himself.

"You. Come with me," Bou says, sharp, crimson eyes boring into you. "We have some things to discuss."

You share a glance with Pierrot. He looks sympathetic, waving you goodbye as de Neige leads you in the other direction.

"I trust you enjoyed Scriptorium?" he doesn't look at you when he speaks.

"Oh- um, yes,"

"Good. Copying manuscripts is an honored tradition of Noble Bell," he says.

"Until the invention of the printing press, all books were made by hand. Though the press made the process fast and inexpensive, the beauty of manuscripts remains unmatched."

You look at him. "You seem to have a lot of traditions,"

He returns your look with a glare. "We are a proud school. It would do you well to adopt a similar attitude. And not to let the idealistic drivel of that fool get to you,"

By "that fool", you assume he means Pierrot. That boy keeps getting stranger and stranger...

"What did he do, anyway?"

de Neige mumbles "heresy", and then clears his throat. "Nothing of your concern. Now, hurry up. You're dawdling,"

Chapter Six

As you pass through the halls of Noble Bell, you think of how easy one could get lost in a place like this.

It's almost labyrinthine. It seems as if every turn leads to another lecture hall, another crypt, another library...

"You should consider yourself fortunate," de Neige says. He's been going on about Noble Bell for some time.

"Of all the arcane academies, Noble Bell College's curriculum has the least practical magic."

"Right," you mutter, following him up another narrow flight of stairs.

"And despite that," he says, "You are already being coddled. The headmaster is... soft. Which brings us to the purpose of my visit."

Bou stops in front of a narrow wooden door and turns in a swift movement to face you. "Follow me," he says.

He takes something out of the depths of his pocket and slots it into the heavy, iron-bound wooden door, then pushes it open as if it were a silk curtain.

You follow him up another flight of stairs, and into a darkened room. The only light, cold and gray, comes from a handful of flower-shaped windows, whose glow illuminates the piles of books and dusty furniture cluttering the small room. Another staircase at the far end leads further into the unknown.

Your eyes are drawn to the window closest to yourself, and you peer out over the island, studying the city, its shape, its color, the curve of its river. You could spend your life up here, alone, comforted only by stone and the dim, foggy noon outside.

Bou hums, drawing your attention back to the present moment. He seems familiar with the room, walking about it and dusting its worn furniture with the sleeve of his uniform.

"Here is the north bell tower. You will be staying here from now on,"

Your eyes widen. "But..."

"Careful. It would be unwise to reject such a generous offer," Bou says, refusing to face you. "The bell towers are spacious, quiet, and warm. Winters are quite cold here."

"But Pierrot?"

Finally, you can see the crimson of his eyes, as he turns over his shoulder to glare at you.

"The student council thinks it improper for you to be living alone with Gregoire. He will stay in La Tombe,"

"But-"

"The key," Bou says, ignoring your protests. He takes something cold out of his pocket and places it in your hand. His skin is almost as chilled as the metal.

"I'll see to it that your mail is forwarded here,"

He turns and leaves you in the room, the rough, cold key still cradled in your open palm. You scoff. What mail?

No one knows you. And no one you know knows where you are.

You don't belong. You're an outcast here.

Your fingers tighten around the key. The least you can do is tell Pierrot. You don't want him to worry when you don't come back tonight, after all.

Finally finding some semblance of purpose, you take long, confident steps back the way you came.

Down the narrow wooden stairs, out the left door, down the stone ones, through this passage, this hallway, this turn, then this, and then...

...No. You don't recognize this hallway. It's darker, and the ceiling is lower. You must have gone too far down.

You take a breath. Don't worry. You'll just retrace your steps.

It isn't over. You've been telling yourself that all day. This is not where it ends. You'll find a way out of this.

All of this.

And then, you're no longer alone.

Though there is no noise, no light, no voice that would indicate a human presence, you are suddenly quite aware that there's someone behind you, watching you from the way you came.

All the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and you stay in place. If you are to turn now, will you see someone- or something- standing behind you? A pair of eyes watching you from the doorway you'd just ducked under?

Or, worse- will you see nothing at all?

You decide you don't want to find out either way.

You keep going. Into the dark of the hall, over another threshold and another, around the corner. At some lengths, the feeling seems to subside, giving you a moment's worth of peace, and then it returns.

The halls are getting narrower. You have an inexplicable feeling that you are no longer in the school, but somewhere much deeper, much older, primeval.

The scuff of shoe against stone, which most certainly did not come from your own feet, makes you go cold.

"Who's there?" you shout.

The only response in your own echo.

"Come out! Stop following me! Leave me alone!"

The words come tumbling out without much thought. You can feel yourself slipping into a panic.

Thoughts chase each other through your mind, and then suspicions and paranoia poison those thoughts. You must ask yourself now, what is this? What's there, in the dark, just out of sight?

And your mind answers for you: it is a monster.

There is a monster in Noble Bell College, and it wants you.

"Leave me be!" you yell at nothing. You're starting to get desperate.

Nothing happens. Then, all at once, a light comes from ahead of you, not behind, and someone shouts:

"Who's there?"

You turn your back to the dark behind you in a frenzy, and, finally, the feeling of being watched disappears entirely.

"Me! I'm here!"

Around the corner comes a boy, one you had not seen before. Not tall, but not short, sturdily built, we'll say. He's quite good looking, at least compared to the other students you'd met, with light brown hair spilling out of a short, stubby ponytail, blue eyes, darkened by the black of the hall, and, curiously, the wisps of a beard on his chin. He's quite unlike any of the other students you'd seen so far.

But, the more pressing question-

"Who are you?" he asks it before you can.

You say your name, and his eyes widen. His stern expression turns merry, and he smiles.

"Ah, I know you. The magicless one,"

That's not very reassuring. You grimace.

"...How do you know who-"

"You shouldn't be down here alone, you know. It's not safe. We've had some thieves on campus lately,"

"Thieves?"

"Yes. Or so I've heard," he nods solemnly, and then a strange mood comes about him.

He smirks and puts his hand on his hip, his other at his hilt, purposefully drawing your eyes to what must be a sword. A big one, too, if his smile is any indication.

"But don't worry. I'll protect you. You know, I haven't seen you in person yet. The way everyone's been talking about you, I assumed you were some sort of monster. But you're actually very pretty,"

You give him a weird look. Perhaps you were wrong- of course, he's just as strange as the others. "Um... alright...."

"Ah, where are my manners? Let me escort you back to your room."

"...Right," you say, looking over your shoulder one last time. The boy follows your gaze, and then coughs for your attention.

"Bell tower, yes?"

You look back at him and nod.

"Then let's not waste any time,"

Chapter Seven

Despite his confidence, it takes the boy a full hour to find the right passage out of the tunnels. He gets to the bell tower easy enough, at least.

Something about him tells you he's not from here, either, but you keep the thought to yourself for now.

"Well, here we are," he says, hands on his hips as if he had just accomplished something.

"...Yes. Well, thank you,"

He beams, gives you a courteous bow, locks of hair falling over his face as he does. They turn golden in the sunlight. "It was my honor. And if you need anything else-"

"There you are," someone says from within the bell tower. You recognize the gruff voice, but before you can answer, the heavy wooden door bursts open and Hugo tumbles out.

He chuffs. "We've been worried sick, 'ya know! Pierrot's all over the place! Who's the stiff?"

You turn to the boy, and his smirk sharpens at the acknowledgement. "Um... I don't know, actually. Who are you?"

"My name is Phoenix. It means, ah, sun bird," he chuckles.

You and Hugo exchange a glance, and he stops laughing. "I'm the Justice of the Peace of the student council. I was doing my rounds when I heard you shouting,"

You turn back to Hugo to explain. "I got lost,"

"No kidding!"

"I didn't know you had a kid," Phoenix says, the same sly smile on his lips. You almost scoff.

"Yeah, and he doesn't take kindly to pigs!" Hugo says. "Now, get lost! That's our magicless human!"

As the two go back-and-forth, a little glimmer of white against the dark brown of the floor catches your eye. You kneel, and pull a thin envelope from under the wooden door. It has your name on the back, and a bite taken out of the corner. You roll your eyes at that. Hugo.

The goat sets off, headbutting Phoenix back down the narrow stairs and leaving you alone again. You sit on the floor and open the letter.

Dearly Beloved, it starts,

The King of Truands has reviewed your case and sees you fit to join his Cour des Miracles. All thieves, beggars, vagrants, or otherwise outcasts, welcome.

You turn over the parchment, noting its weight, and stuck to the back is a thin pendant, woven of purple and teal twine, in the shape of a leaf. At its heart, a small, golden cross.

How strange...

You squint at the pendant, and then the letter, which, quite rudely, bursts into flame in your hand.

You drop the fiery letter and it dissolves into ashes on the floor. You huff. Magic...

"And stay out!" Hugo's voice returns from the stairs. For a goat, he certainly has a loud bark.

The white of his small head crowns over the steps, and you stand.

"Hugo," you hold out the pendant to him. "Do you know what this is?"

The goat stops and squints, then scoffs. "One 'a those touristy necklaces. They're all over the city, I can't remember what they're for, though. Just that they don't taste good,"

You hum, bringing the pendant back towards yourself. Why would this King of Truands send you a souvenir?

"...Maybe Pierrot will know," you finally say. He seems to know a lot of useless things, after all.

You hurry to the stairs, Hugo trotting behind you. "What's the big deal?"

"I don't know," you say, paying close attention to each step. You don't want to get lost all over again, after all.

"I've had a bad feeling all day. I think this means something."

"Great, a fortune teller," Hugo sighs.

He follows you, anyway.

Chapter Eight

The sun is already setting over the city when you stumble down the steps of Noble Bell.

The sky is streaked with fiery pinks and oranges, making the school look cold and dull by comparison. Even the clouds, red and descending on the wrought iron gates like a bloodied army, turn the stone of the city into a dull, lifeless blue.

You stumble across the sports field and into the grove at the end of the island.

"Slow down!" Hugo gasps.

You don't. But you do stop at La Tombe and pull open its heavy stone door. It's dark inside.

"Pierrot?" you call for him, as if he were hiding behind a book or in a stray shoe.

Nothing.

"Hey, come look at this!"

You abandon the mausoleum and turn to its side, where Hugo is standing over an attached tomb. Its stone lid has been pushed to the ground beside it, and there's light coming from its depths.

"You think he...?" you start, unable to look away from its gaping mouth. Instead of dust and bones, there's a flight of stairs.

"Who else?" Hugo sighs. "He was looking all over for you."

"He must've panicked when the sun started going down," you murmur. "We have to get him."

"What?" Hugo asks, eyes wide. "Are you crazy?"

You take the pendant out of your pocket and hold it against the warm light coming from inside the tomb.

"I just have a feeling," you breathe in slowly, and take your first step into the grave. "Let's go find Pierrot."

[ghostlyeris]

as fun as it is to dunk on the k2 moment, there is something so poetic about her being the one to reach cassandra

you are a clone. a copy. a simulacrum of a person who's only been alive for a few days. you're hanging out with your friends (who aren't really your friends) at fabian's birthday/your (her) election party. and suddenly you're thrust into mortal danger by your god (who isn't really your god at all)

you're there, helping load the cannons and fire at dragons, but everyone is talking to her. even as you race upstairs to help, gorgug speaks to her, even when you're right there. and through the wind and the waves, you watch kristen reach out to perform a miracle once again

and she fails

of course she fails. she's reaching out to cassandra, her goddess of mystery and doubt. but this storm isn't cassandra. cassandra sits tucked away in kristen's jeans, protected by her last true cleric in spyre

this isn't cassandra though. this is the nightmare king. a corrupted copy of the god kristen worships. saint kristen applebees, soon-to-be student body president and star cleric of the bad kids could never hope to reach him

but you could. clone to clone, copy to copy, corruption to corruption. you reach out, asking for divine intervention. and as you begin to feel it work, your divine prayer answered by a corrupted god, all you say is "blimey"

[multiplicityofmind]

AITA for lying to my guidance counselor to steal a student's file?

I (17M) pretended to open up to my (??M) guidance counselor/friends' dad to steal from him... For context, I am a rogue student at an adventuring academy; we're expected to steal things as homework. My adventuring party (18M, 17M, 17F, 17F, 17F) was looking into a worldwide conspiracy centered around our school's student government election, and we suspected one student to be in on it. She (17F) was running for student body president, and we thought she might've been using that to further her plot - We'll call her K.

K is kind of a bitch, and that tied in well to some other phenomena we saw around our town. Long story short, we needed her student file to know how she found our rogue teacher (+ details about her plans that she could've discussed with the counselor). I am typically a very closed off guy, so this was the first time I met with our counselor, we'll call him J. J was very excited that I would come in and "talk about my recent traumatic experiences" (which I haven't had, i think he's also in on it?). While hes talking, I slip the file from his desk and into my briefcase. Looking back on it, I probably broke a couple laws and his trust.

Am I the asshole?

[shanieveh]

REVERSE 07↺: this isn’t the end

wriothesley x fem!reader

Now playing: From the start — Laufey

“Dear Wriothesley,”

The letter was in his hand, like it was in yours before.

Your hand.

One that he used to touch, to feel, to hold.

“I’m leaving, I recently got the scholarship and I dont want anything to disturb me, not even you.”

At that time, he was filled with life, but he understood now. That life was always something he had to sacrifice so much for.

“Thank you for introducing me to your silly tea parties, as we delude ourselves to be the seven deadly sins.”

A breath, a tear, a memory.

“I know you’ll fill that party, the three of us will turn to seven. I would dearly miss being lust, and trying to kiss you.”

He continued reading it.

“So take risks okay! I know you wanted that basketball spot, so practice. Not to much tea now, will you.”

He looks back at his trophy room, one where you once lay with him as he tells you his dreams and aspirations.

“Election is coming up though, how about you start from the bottom and work your way up to the top! Maybe you can get representative of the batch now, oh I can’t wait to see you president!”

Laufey was always your favorite artist, he remembered memorizing a whole song to sing to you. He courted you for months, he loved you for years.

“But I reject you Rio, after all the flowers and songs, I realized this relationship was worthless.”

He was worthless.

He remembered being mad about everything, how can he not when he was the used to being alone in everything. He begged for you to notice him months prior, to just be in the same room as him.

Just a few months later, you came back a new person, a person he never knew. It was like you lost everything, with the brand new friends. But he will always keep his promise.

After all he knew why you had to leave, it was all his fault.

He rejected you, he ignored you, a bit of him loathe your whole existence. Wriothesley couldn’t bear even drinking tea, not until a purple haired girl told him he was allowed to be happy.

And that purple haired, turns to a whole circle of friends, one of his own.

But the duke remembers the clear words he said, running after you, the moment he read the whole letter.

“One day, if we no longer have burdens to deal with, can you finally pick me?”

One day, this isn’t the end.

Even if it meant just being friends, just seeing you from afar, he would do it all for your happiness.

He never understood why you changed, and he never understood why he still loved you anyway.

“So I’ll take my goodbyes. Thank you for the memories and I’m sorry for my rejection, I hope you find someone better.”

——————————[ 06 —↺— 08 ]——————————

the whole campus knows about your 3 year crush on the student body president and basketball captain wriothesley. you were fine with his constant ignoring and rejections until something happened, until you stopped, and a reverse took place... now he won't leave you alone.

TAGLIST I: @vash-yuu @nayukiyukihira @aethion @whodissbitj @astolary @ayayaaayyiirel @randomidk-123 @superdark-soul @sleepy-waffle @kittywagun @ceaether @ichorstainedskin @numwoon44 @eutopiastar @reni502 @fictionalfantasy17 @lucienbarkbark @kyon-cherri @huanator @jqnehr @yourlittlemissworld @zworllyx @unknownlololol @sara-midnight @jaguarthecat @we-wo-we-wo @duhsies @interstellar-equilibrium @ariparri @lolmeowing @aruatsu @k-cris @quacking-simp @vlamouren @semi-orangeapple @tamikahoshiko @imnotgoodwithnamessoidk @portgas459ace @r4yyyyy @vxnuslogy @kazuhasmaid @explosive-wuisa @falors @rirk-ke @shotovhs @aixaingela @ruhaxol @yelleloww @sc1twi @ash4ree

[wasabi-gumdrop]

thinking about modern au Kabru

ivy league college student, probably studying law and political science on a full scholarship. first time living away from Milsiril so he has to promise her, yes mom i’ll call you at least four times a week, no mom i don’t need your amex black card, yes mom the normal credit card is fine i need to learn how to budget like a Normal Person (it has a limit of $20k — that’s not normal Kabru).

Milsiril insists for a long time that she’ll just get him a house off campus so he can have his own space (aka a place she can drop by anytime and possibly live a few months out of the year just to be close to him) but Kabru puts his foot down and tells her the best way he’s gonna make friends is by living with other students (bye mom).

his floor in the coed dorms is the party floor and he always makes sure to invite everybody (his nightmare is accidentally leaving anyone out and having them think that he doesn’t like them). somehow it’s always a good time, everyone leaves with more friends than they came with, it never gets totally out of control, and plenty of girls who are interested in him (and a lot of guys too tbh) bring tons of baked treats so there’s always free food. Kabru is the RA’s favourite person to have in the building (even though Kabru himself is messy but most of the people he’s friends with are nice and clean up after themselves).

he has a porsche (Milsiril gift for his 16th bday) but he’s adamant about not driving it unless he absolutely has to (because he doesn’t wanna look like a douche). BUT he never says no when his friends ask for rides (so he ends up driving all the time anyway). he actually contemplates selling the porsche and going for a more practical car but Mickbell is like ‘dude you are not taking this away from me.’ Kabru sighs and decides to keep it because his friends (Mickbell) like being chauffeured around in a fancy convertible (Rin, Holm, and Dia don’t care, they’re just glad they don’t have to walk to the grocery store).

he’s probably on a casual texting basis with most of his professors and you know he’s going to all their office hours, grabbing beer with them just to keep chatting about life outside of school. and that’s how he winds up in some super secret faculty group chat where he’s now privy to all the college administration gossip.

Kabru is elected for student council during his freshman year and he’s probably the favourite to be sc president one day.

he doesn’t really date (gets too in his head about how he doesn’t wanna ruin any friendships) but he does hang out one on one with a lot of girls and treats them all really well. he probably goes so far out of his way to be platonic that he flies a little too close to the ‘Just Like One of the Girlies’ sun, he kinda forgets that most people interpret it as flirting coming from him. which leads to a few awkward conversations. people feeling led on, a few angry jealous boyfriends, scathing dms about him being a girl stealing homewrecker.

it’s such a nightmare for him and he needs it to end right now. so he begs Rin to ‘date’ him for a week or two and then publicly dump him just so the entire student body gets the message that he is Just A Friend.

Rin stares at him for a few seconds. then she laughs. she laughs and laughs. she laughs for a crazy long time. and then eventually she goes, ‘wow you’re an asshole, Kabru. no i won’t be your fake girlfriend. you’re gonna suffer and i’m going to enjoy it.’

and that’s when Kabru has a moment of enlightenment. ok yeah. asking for that is probably really selfish and mean. maybe he needs to think about girls’ feelings more and that’s maybe more important than his deep seated need to be liked, and when has Rin ever been wrong about anything.

he apologizes. and so begins one of the more serious talks he’s ever had with Rin about being okay with not being liked.

he thinks he can really turn over a new leaf. the whole ‘not worrying about what other people think’ thing goes pretty well — up until Kabru meets the aloof professor for his Monsters and Myths class who keeps forgetting and mispronouncing his name.

Kabru has never needed someone to like him So Bad, he needs Prof. Touden to like him as a matter of life and death, and he’s willing to look stupid for it (fails a midterm on purpose to justify begging for one on one tutoring)

[secreteviltwin]

i remember being in highschool and being acutely aware that no girl would ever be elected student body president because the girls were willing to vote for a boy but the boys weren't willing to vote for a girl. and then turns out it's the same fucking thing in actual politics too

[nwjws]

(TEASER) WAIT FOR YOU TO LIKE ME AGAIN - LSH

READ HERE

; SYNOPSIS - whether it be in the middle of the halls or during his election speech, heeseung's never passed up an opportunity to ask you out on a date. although you've always said no, that hasn't stopped the boy from trying again anyway - at least until senior year, when he suddenly stopped pursuing you, to your (and everyone's) bewilderment.

; PAIRING - heeseung x fem!reader

; TAGS - teaser, one-shot, high school au, president!heeseung, vice president!reader, one-sided enemies to lovers

; WARNINGS - none for the teaser. warnings for the actual one-shot will be mentioned beforehand.

; WC - 389 words. fic is estimated to be 10k+

; WHEN? hopefully by APRIL 17! comment or send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist 🫶

you hated lee heeseung.

throughout the three years you've known him, he's been always the bane of your existence. the boy was constantly bugging you and pulling a new stunt every time to show off and get your attention. all this to ask you out on a date practically every week since the age of fourteen.

seriously, after a hundred 'no's you'd think he'd learn to back off, and yet, he was still persistent in pursuing you.

at least, until your final year began.

see, you two were competing against each other for student council president towards the end of the previous year. despite this, he still insisted that you go out with him throughout the election.

the worst part of the elections was that he was immensely popular (aka. he was an actual threat). on top of being the captain for boys' volleyball team, he was class rep and actively helped out teachers after school. students and teachers alike were drawn in by his hardworking yet casual nature, and how easily he talked to others. it didn't help that during the final election speeches, he had so graciously ended it with "and aren't all these qualities worthy of at least one date?"

of course he still managed to make such a serious event about asking you out. whoops and cheers echoed the hall, with almost everyone looking at you. everyone knew your history, with half the school on his side, cheering him on and urging you to say yes.

thankfully, the other half of the student body understood that no means no, and were more sympathetic towards you.

yet, it was his last sentence that won the people over, and he'd been voted as the president, with you as vice.

"just say yes, one date won't hurt," ningning had chuckled when you groaned about it again to her after she came back from her summer camp.

"yes it literally will? my pride and reputation of always saying no will eat me before i ever agree."

"maybe he'll back off if you do?"

"no number of rejections has stopped him, how would a 'yes' do that?"

"maybe he'll realise you're absolutely undateable," she laughed at you, which had you throwing a pillow at her in retaliation.

you scowled at her before pulling out your phone and finding heeseung's instagram.

; TAGLIST (closed!) perm. @lovelovelovebts @miyseung @babyy-bambii @haechansbbg @gweoriz @maoyueze @manooffline @chocwo @yizhoutv @isawritesss @bobabunhee @rikibun @wonniversity networks. @kflixnet @k-films @/k-labels

; AUTHOR’S CORNER! comeback fic 😝🤞icbb to say more

[thecutepoison]

Guys, I'm kinda freaking out... we learned last episode that in the abscence of the previously estipulated successors, the position of principal of aguefort would fall upon the student's council president, right?

I'm going to state the obvious for a second. It's a given that Kipperlily is trying to win the election for more reasons than a personal achievement. She was 100% aware of the gap in the rules, which would mean Aguerfort's joke would be interpreted as the only manifestation of his will. This is the girl who said she's busy studying the student government and takes active joy in finding loopholes in the rules (like acing the year bc the rogue teacher found her).

But what is her angle here? It's a powerful position for sure, but the Rat Grinder's must be after something specific. So I started asking myself what specifically would help them in the plan of raising this Forgotten God from the dead. Aguefort's office must have dangerous items aplenty given the incident with the crown and his general personality. Do they want access to that?

Then it dawned on me.

Lydia Barkrock's body is under the fucking school.

For those who don't remember, in sophomore year it was revealed that Arthur Aguefort cloned Lydia while she was sleeping and placed her soul into a new body, hiding her original one in the depths beneath the school. Crazy ass move bc he did that without warning her, but that's what prevented Kalina from permanently killing Lydia in season 2 - upon the clone's death, she gained consciousness in her original body.

It's only fair to assume that Aguefort made this precaution again after sophomore year for the same reason: Lydia's death would entail Bakur's escape. And if Kipperlily is elected and becomes the principal... it's very likely she would have access to Lydia's original body since it's on school ground. Her vulnerable, unconscious body, the only thing preventing the fiend from escaping.

That's really bad, guys. Bakur knows how to do the divine ressurection ritual, he only failed because he picked the wrong place. But the Rat Grinders do know a place that would work!! Kipperlily specifically asked Jawbone about Yes! and he did tell her that this god was created by Kristen when she died in Prom and went to corn heaven. So, a god was born in corn heaven - that's why the Rat Grinders personally requested Buddy Dawn, a cleric of Helio. Maybe by using him, they can pass through the pearly gates to perform the ritual. After all, Arthur Aguefort did the same thing using Kristen.

Basically, if Lydia dies, all pieces fall in place for them. Together with Bakur, they have all the info necessary to pull this God from the Astral Plane back to existence. They would just have to kill her unconscious body and slay the clone holding her soul. What they lack right now is the access, which solved by gaining the position of principal.

PS: Also, there's a rat society under the school?? Perhaps it's close to where Lydia's body is localized?? Idk Brennan is insane

[corruptedcaps]

The Election

Rebecca stepped into the student councils office with an odd mix of triumph and nerves tingling inside her. The room was sleek and cold, every piece of furniture in it seemingly chosen to convey an air of authority. Behind the desk sat Rita, the faculty representative. Rita looked up, her expression unreadable, her gaze icy as it skimmed over Rebecca.

“Well, Rebecca. You’ve certainly stirred things up haven't you?” Rita said, the corner of her mouth lifting in what could have been a smirk.

To say that Rita was well put together would have been an understatement. She looked like she was made from marble itself, chiselled by an artist of unparalleled talent. Students often whispered in hushed tones the rumours of why such a beauty was stuck in a small town high school.

Rebecca straightened, clutching her backpack a little tighter. She’d run against Vicky, who had ruled as class president since they had started high school. Although Vicky had acted more like a Queen in the role, effortlessly lording over the rest of the student body. Now in their final year, she had been poised to take her place as senior class president, which gave her authority over all the other class presidents, but Rebecca had put a speed bump in her path.

Rebecca never thought she could win, all she wanted to do was stand up to her bully once and for all and show the other students they could too. Turned out the rest of the student body were sick of Vicky's intimidation and her ability to get away with anything. Rebecca was ready to be the leader they all wanted her to be.

“I can’t wait to get started and actually make a difference.” Rebecca said, a flicker of excitement breaking through her nerves.

Rita chuckled, soft and dark. She lifted a necklace from her desk, a thin, glimmering chain with a pendant that bore the school’s insignia, an emblem of authority every class president wore. “The only change happening today, Rebecca, is with you.” She said, moving to clasp the necklace around Rebecca’s neck.

Rebecca frowned, confusion flashing in her eyes. But as soon as the pendant touched her skin, a strange warmth spread from her neck, flowing downward in tendrils that prickled over her body. She sucked in a breath, her fingers twitching as if she could feel herself shifting, somehow rearranging.

Rita’s voice was low and amused. “You see, the class president is more than a title. She’s meant to keep everyone in line, maintain control. Vicky did this well for many years. She ruled as she should, kept the students at her mercy. But to rule, you need to not only act the part, you need to look the part.”

Rebecca’s blouse tightened against her chest as her breasts swelled, filling out in a way that made her gasp. She brought a hand up in shock, feeling her curves grow fuller, her skin growing taut and smooth, her shoulders and posture subtly adjusting as her stance shifted, instinctively more poised and commanding.

“No… this isn’t… I didn’t ask for this!” She gasped, clawing at the necklace as if she could yank it off. But her hands faltered as a strange wave of satisfaction trickled through her, melting her initial panic. Despite herself, her fingers brushed over her now-smooth, taut skin. It felt… good. But she fought back, gritting her teeth as she tried to hold onto her original self.

“Don’t fight it, Rebecca.” Rita’s voice was low, almost hypnotic. “This is who you’re meant to be now. Soon you’ll realize that the only interests you need to serve is to the school and to yourself.”

Rita sat on her desk, admiring the transformation as Rebecca’s lips grew plumper, a sultry pout settling on her face without her even trying.

Rebecca’s fingers trembled, long and manicured now, nails painted in a deep, alluring red. Her skin darkened to a golden tan, her waist cinching in with an almost supernatural grace, and she felt herself standing taller, more self-assured, a predatory glint filling her eyes. She glanced down in astonishment, barely recognizing herself.

“No! The school doesn’t need another bully! Another bitch! You don’t know how bad it can be!” Rebecca said, fighting against the torrent of pleasure hitting her. Her pussy was practically dripping and she longed to touch it but she held steadfast.

Rita stood up from the desk and walked slowly over to her with a knowing grin. She reached into low cut top and pulled out the end of her necklace. It bore the same insignia as Rebecca’s. “Don’t I? I was once like you. Pathetic, plain, poor. But when I won the Junior class president race that all changed. I realized that beauty and power were the real currency around here. You might think that cuck of a principal runs this school, but I do.”

Rebecca’s eyes went wide at the revelation. It couldn’t be true and yet her still changing body was convincing her otherwise. She could feel the power inside her growing by the second. She knew she could soon have any guy she wanted under her thumb and have any girl follow her every order. It was intoxicating.

“But I won’t be doing this forever Rebecca. l’m becoming too big for this pond and have desires for… higher offices. Accept what I am offering you and you can be my protégé. I can make you ten times the bitch Vicky was. You know you’ll enjoy it.” Rita continued, her eyes glinting with satisfaction as she ran her fingers through Rebecca’s hair, tying it up into a high ponytail.

Rebecca shook her head, trying to focus, to push against the temptation of her new form. But as her gaze fell on her reflection, she noticed how striking she looked. Her lips fuller, poutier, her cheeks high and flawless, her new curves like a siren’s call.

A strange pride began to simmer beneath her resistance, whispering thoughts she’d never dared to entertain. This was power. This was beauty. Didn’t she deserve this?

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed as she gazed at herself, feeling the last of her meekness slip away. The students did need someone to keep them in line, didn’t they? Someone strong, beautiful, and utterly in control. Her lips parted in a self-assured smile, her eyes glinting with a newfound confidence. Why had she ever thought she’d be any different? Change didn’t mean weakness. It meant strength. Specifically her strength.

Rebecca studied herself, tilting her head, watching the way her new hair shimmered, the fullness of her lips, the commanding presence that radiated from her new form. A wicked smile curled across her face, replacing the remnants of her former hesitance.

With a final, approving look at her reflection, Rebecca turned to Rita, a satisfied, almost predatory smile on her lips.

“Call me Becky.” She purred, her voice rich and sultry, dripping with authority.

She smoothed her hair back, already imagining how she would inflict cruelty on every student if they stepped out of line, and some who she would punish just for fun. She was more than their president, she was their queen and they would learn to respect her, whether they wanted to or not.

[bloodyshadow1]

the ratgrinders biggest mistake was engaging the bad kids. The bad kids are like toddlers, if they don't have something to react to, they'll just tire themselves out. The bad kids had so much shit to deal with just to get through junior year, if Kipperlily just waited to approach the table to sign up to run for student government until after the Bad kids left than she wouldn't have them on her ass. She could keep fucking with them invisibly. Now, she is not only getting her ass kicked in the student body president election, she's got them all on her ass and in her shit.

But I guess that's kind of the crux of being a villain, it's not just about winning, it's about sending a message and crushing all the people who you believe looked down on you.

[soup-child]

In a fantasy high tv show there should be intense student body president election beef that's only show in the background freshman year because Porter was probably trying to do his plan while auguefort was dead we just weren't privy to the drama