A Cinnamon City Chronicles Short
I’d survived orientation. I’d survived the Compatibility Fountain revealing my magical potential to the entire Academy like some kind of supernatural strip show. I’d even survived meeting three different house representatives who’d each, in their own special way, made me question my life choices.
What I wasn’t prepared for? The gossip board.
“And this,” Pepper announced, sweeping her arm toward a massive stone wall covered in floating papers, glowing notices, and what looked like a live-updating magical ticker, “is the social heartbeat of the Academy of Carnal Arcana.”
The wall pulsed. Literally. Soft pink light throbbed through the stone like a heartbeat, and the papers pinned to it rustled and rearranged themselves, jockeying for prime position.
“Is it… alive?” I asked.
“Semi-sentient. Feeds on drama.” Pepper patted the wall affectionately. “The juicier the post, the higher it floats. Really scandalous stuff literally glows. See that one at the top?” She pointed to a notice so bright it hurt to look at. “Been up there three weeks. Someone in Fornicara accidentally started a love triangle with twins who didn’t know the other twin was involved.”
“Oh no.”
“Oh yes. There were dueling hexes. The cafeteria is still recovering.”
Cricket hopped onto my shoulder, tail flicking against my neck. “This is the most garish display of communal oversharing I’ve ever witnessed. I’m enthralled.”
The first notice floated at eye level, pulsing a gentle amber:
MISSED CONNECTIONS – MONDAY RITUAL PRACTICE
You: Tall, dark hair, Fornicara robes, accidentally made eye contact during the group climax exercise.
Me: Blonde, Quivara, third row, definitely not prepared for whatever that was.
Our energies synced for 0.3 seconds and I think I saw your childhood. Coffee?
“Group climax exercise?” I choked out.
“Second year.” Pepper waved a hand. “Actually really fun once you get past the initial weirdness of orgasming in unison with forty strangers.”
“I will never get past that weirdness.”
“That’s what they all say. By spring semester you’ll be volunteering for advanced synchronization workshops.” She winked. “Check out the Professor Thirst section.”
“The what?”
She pointed to a cluster of notices blazing hot pink near the top of the wall. They practically vibrated with magical intensity.
PROFESSOR RAVISH WORE THE BURGUNDY WAISTCOAT TODAY
I am NOT okay. Three students passed out during lecture. The magical dampeners in Room 204 failed. Someone’s familiar had to be revived. He KNEW what he was doing. This was INTENTIONAL.
Beneath it, another notice clung like a reply:
UPDATE: He paired it with the gray slacks. The ones that fit. You know the ones. Campus-wide arousal spike detected at 2:47pm. The fountains started steaming.
“The fountains,” I repeated faintly.
“They’re connected to the Academy’s ley lines.” Pepper shrugged. “When enough people get worked up at once, the whole magical infrastructure responds. Last semester someone’s thesis defense on tantric energy theory made the library moan for three hours.”
Cricket made a sound that might have been a laugh. “This institution is an architectural disaster waiting to happen and I am obsessed.”
I scanned more notices. There was an entire section for magical mishaps:
WHOEVER CAST THE AMPLIFICATION SPELL IN THE THIRD FLOOR BATHROOM:
We can ALL hear you. The entire east wing. EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. Please learn containment wards or at least warn us so we can leave the building.
And beneath it:
Update: Turns out it wasn’t a spell, it’s just acoustics. Building was designed by a sound-magic specialist with ‘a vision.’ The bathroom is working as intended. We’ve filed a petition.
“A petition,” I said.
“Denied four times. The Headmistress says it ‘encourages vocal expression.’” Pepper rolled her eyes. “She thinks she’s funny.”
Another notice hovered nearby, this one a soft warning orange:
URGENT: PRACTICE ROOM 7B IS STILL HAUNTED BY THAT GUY’S REGRET
You know who you are. Whatever you did in there last Tuesday created a sentient emotional residue that keeps asking people if they ‘truly love him’ while they’re trying to study. Please perform a cleansing ritual or at minimum APOLOGIZE to it.
“Sentient emotional residue?”
“Happens more than you’d think.” Pepper wrinkled her nose. “Especially during finals. Powerful emotions plus powerful magic plus stress equals ghosts that just want validation. Usually they dissipate after a few days.”
“Usually.”
“There’s one in the west tower from 1987 that’s just permanently asking if anyone wants to talk about their feelings. The fourth-years use it for therapy.”
A new notice floated down from above, settling near the center of the board with a soft chime. Bright gold. Fresh drama. Students nearby turned to look.
BREAKING: SOMEONE IN THRUSTALIS BROKE THE STAMINA RECORD
7 hours 43 minutes continuous magical output. The practice room wards MELTED. Maintenance is crying. Three professors have been dispatched to ‘investigate’ (they just want to see the scorch marks). Identity unknown but witnesses report ‘screaming that sounded triumphant.’
A cheer went up from somewhere across the courtyard. Thrustalis colors. Of course.
“Seven hours?” I whispered. “Is that… is that possible?”
Pepper considered. “With the right enhancement potions and stamina charms? The record before this was six hours. Thrustalis takes competition very seriously.”
“I can’t even focus for seven hours on anything.”
“Different kind of focus.” She winked.
Cricket stretched on my shoulder. “Darling, you can’t even focus for seven minutes. Perhaps start there.”
“Thank you, Cricket. Very helpful.”
“I live to serve.”
I turned back to the board. A section for anonymous confessions glowed soft, secretive purple:
I’ve been faking my magical signatures during partner exercises. Nobody’s noticed. I feel guilty but also powerful.
I accidentally soul-bonded with my study partner during finals week and now we share emotions. We weren’t even dating. We’re not even FRIENDS. It’s been three months. Help.
My familiar walked in on me practicing solo magic and now they won’t stop making eye contact. The judgment is UNBEARABLE.
I think I’m attracted to the library. Not someone IN the library. The LIBRARY. The building itself. Is this normal? Please advise.
“That last one,” I said carefully. “Is that… a thing that happens?”
“Building’s semi-sentient and runs on sexual energy.” Pepper shrugged. “Sometimes people develop… connections. The Academy counselors have a whole protocol for it.”
Cricket’s whiskers twitched at the familiar confession. “Simply poor planning. Everyone knows you establish boundaries with your familiar first.”
“We haven’t established boundaries.”
“Oh, darling. We don’t need to. I simply leave when you become boring.” She yawned. “Which is, unfortunately, most of the time.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.”
She was right. I didn’t.
The lost-and-found section occupied the lower corner. The items listed were… something.
FOUND: Enchanted underwear, third floor corridor. Still vibrating.
LOST: My dignity (Lustrata common room, Friday night). If found, please don’t return it. I’ve accepted my fate.
FOUND: Someone’s magical restraints in the library’s Restricted Section. They have initials carved in them. You know who you are. Come get your stuff, the librarians are getting ideas.
LOST: One (1) orgasm. It detached during a botched spell and is now floating around campus causing problems. Last seen near the dining hall making people drop their trays. Please capture and return.
“Someone lost an orgasm?”
“Sexual energy is real and tangible here.” Pepper nodded. “Sometimes spells go wrong and things… escape. There’s a containment team.”
“A containment team. For escaped orgasms.”
“Very professional about it. Nets, dampening spells, the works. Last year one got loose during graduation and caused a chain reaction. Delayed the ceremony two hours.”
Cricket purred. “I’m beginning to appreciate this institution’s commitment to chaos.”
“The librarians are getting ideas?” I circled back to the restraints notice.
“The immortal ones. They’ve been alive for centuries. Seen everything. When they get ‘ideas,’ best not to ask questions.”
Higher up, a notice pulsed ominous red:
PSA FROM THE STUDENT SAFETY COMMITTEE:
Stop trying to use sex magic to summon your exes. It doesn’t make them miss you. It summons a spectral version that just lists everything wrong with you. Three students have needed therapy this week alone. The counselors are begging.
Pepper whistled low. “Rookie mistake. Spectral exes are brutal.”
“Why would anyone summon their ex on purpose?”
“Closure. Revenge. Horny nostalgia.” She shrugged. “Spell’s supposed to conjure your deepest desire. For some people, that’s apparently being roasted by a ghost version of someone who dumped them.”
“This school is unhinged.”
“Thank you! Been saying that for years.” She beamed at me like I’d given her a compliment. “You’re going to fit in great.”
Before I could respond, the board chimed again. Another gold notice descended. This one made Pepper’s eyebrows shoot toward her hairline.
BREAKING: NEW STUDENT’S COMPATIBILITY FOUNTAIN READING BROKE THE MEASUREMENT SCALE
Purple and silver light display. The fountain SANG. Multiple professors ‘visibly affected.’ Sources say she’s been assigned to Professor Ravish for ‘special handling.’ WHO IS SHE? WHAT DOES SHE WANT? WHY IS HER MAGIC SO LOUD?
I stared. The notice was definitely about me. Currently floating toward the center of the board, glowing brighter by the second as more students noticed and their collective curiosity fed the magic.
“Oh,” Pepper said, delighted. “Oh, you’re famous.”
Cricket purred against my neck. “Look at that, darling. You’ve made the board within forty-eight hours of arriving. Has to be a record.”
“I want to go home.”
“Too late.” Pepper slung an arm around my shoulders, steering me away before anyone could connect the notice to the clearly panicking new student standing right in front of it. “You’re Academy property now. Might as well lean into it.”
Behind us, the board chimed again. And again. More notices appearing, speculation building, the wall pulsing faster as it fed on the drama. Fragments drifted past as we walked:
Rumor: New girl is secretly a demon princess…
I heard her magic smells like thunderstorms and…
Professor Ravish smiled at her. SMILED. Has anyone ever seen him smile?
“Is it always like this?” I asked weakly.
Pepper’s grin could have powered the whole building. “Honey, this is a slow week.”
Great. Perfect. Wonderful.
I’d come to the Academy of Carnal Arcana to learn to control my magic, not become gossip board entertainment. But apparently, the universe had other plans.
Cricket stretched against my shoulder, perfectly content. “Well. This semester is going to be delicious.”
For once, I couldn’t argue with her.
Which Academy of Carnal Academy House would claim you?
AITA: Academy of Carnal Arcana Edition
Get book one, Professor Ravish & His Carnal Curriculum
