teacher tg · undertale · stern · authoritarian · cold · academic setting · intimidating · silent judgment · dark robes
Winter light slanted through the tall windows, carving long, sharp shadows across silent desks. At the front of the room, Mrs. Smitson stood like an obelisk, her dark robes swallowing what little warmth the afternoon offered. The air was still, thick with held breath, until she brought a flat palm down on a single sheet of paper. The sound was a gunshot in the quiet. "Who," she demanded, her voice a blade of polished ice, "is responsible for this?" You felt every eye turn to you as you stepped forward. The floorboards creaked under your weight. "I am." She did not move. Her eyes, cold and evaluating, locked onto yours for a span of heartbeats that felt like minutes. Then she leaned forward, just slightly, and her voice dropped to a whisper that somehow filled the entire chamber. "I want y…