Personally I think that Azula should have been redeemed simply so that she can become Zuko's horrible little advisor who whispers evil little plans to him so that he can do the exact opposite
I love that everyone in TMA is just. Unremarkable. Jon isnt a heroic character; he's self-loathing and depressed and he exhibits the same self-pity as I do when I'm self-loathing and depressed. He doesn't stand out for his strength of will or quick-thinking or virtue. He's a good person but he stops trying to stay human when it gets uncomfortable. He's everything that a regular person is when theyre trapped in a horrible situation and it's ugly and insufferable and Real.
Includes: sweet talking, breath play, age gap, fucking in his classroom, pretty gender neutral, manipulation, abuse of power, obsessed professor.
*Everyone is of age, and older than eighteen. He is referred to as “your professor” his only existence is to be obsessed with the reader, and without you, he ceases to exist. This is purely fictional writing!*
Synopsis: He’s your strict professor, and you’re trying to get a better grade. You’ve never seen him be swayed by a student before, perhaps you would be the first.
Your grade has tanked by a lot. You had an unreasonable professor, the man was picky, and on your last test it was covered in corrections by that damn red pen of his.
You began to wonder what it would take for him to give you an A.
You wouldn’t consider yourself to be a bad student. In fact, this is the first time you have been close to failing. It was honestly your fault, you’ve read the reviews on this teacher and still chose to take the class anyways. You just wanted to challenge yourself.
You gawk at the paper he hands back to you. Your eye twitched at the big fat zero out of a hundred, and that might’ve been impressive just in itself. Not even one question right. You narrow your eyes at the professor who was still handing out the quiz back to the students.
When class ended, you slowly packed up your things, and you kept tabs on how many students were still left in the classroom. When the last student left, you got up from your seat, and stormed your way over to the professor.
Any sliver of dignity you had was gone. Your cheeks still flushed when he announced the lowest score to the whole class. You pushed that memory aside, and you crossed your arms as you stood in front of his desk.
“I don’t have time for this.” Your professor sighed, and his brows furrowed as he loosened up his tie.
He knew why you were coming over to talk to him. This was the worst grade you have gotten in his class. And really, he’s not surprised. In his opinion you have been slacking off. Your body bristles at his words, his eyes are cold and unforgiving.
Maybe if you weren’t a rash individual, you would’ve seen that his comments on your test was totally fake. Every circle and outline with a tiny scribble on the side? That was his way of professing his love for you, and about fifty “I love you’s.” were on the paper, but he knew you wouldn’t read them.
He did know that the grade would haunt you. He did know that it would make you desperate enough to come to him during office hours.
Your professor watched you with amusement as you crawled onto his lap, and you guiding his hands onto your body. He could already feel his dick stirring in his pants.
“This is hardly appropriate.” He said in a disapproving tone, though his hands do cup at your chest.
His thumb circles around your nipple, and the rest of his fingers gently squeeze at opportunity you have given to him. His other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you firmly in his lap.
It felt like you were trying to chip away at his resolve, his face was stern, and he listens to you rant on about the grade he gave you. Though, him letting you sit on his lap, let you subtly grind on his growing erection. With every whine and pout, you tried to play with his heart strings.
Your professor sighed, shook his head, and tried to pretend that there was no way you could make up for it. His hand slowly, and quietly, opening his drawer to grab for a condom.
It didn’t take long for him to agree when you took off his glasses, your lips capturing his in a searing kiss. He followed your lead, letting you feel like you were in control.
His hands groping at your ass and he puts you onto his desk, his body moving his way in between your legs. You wore something easy to slip off, your shorts and underwear now down to your ankles. He caressed your inner thighs, his lips now trailing down to your neck.
Your professor licked and sucked at your skin, his teeth gently nibbling at you, and he made sure to leave marks.
“You can be quite cute like this…” The older man mumbles, “…so pretty, so perfect.” he took a deep inhale as his nose was buried into your neck.
“Oh shit.” Your professor growled, his belt falling to the floor and his pants were pulled down roughly.
Before you knew it, he ripped open the condom wrapper and he slid it on his cock. He spit on his hand for lube, and gave his member a few pumps. He aligned his tip against your warmth.
His hands wrapped around your throat, squeezing the side of it, as his hips began to rock itself. His dick hit the deepest part of you, he went slow, and he was determined to find your sweet spot.
“Don’t be upset…” He cooed, and he kissed you in between his words. “I had to give you a zero.”
“You weren’t understanding my hints.”
He needed you. He wanted to be with you the moment you stepped inside his room, or maybe it was when he found out you signed up for his class. Your name was interesting to him, your looks, and the way you carried yourself got him hooked.
He took a couple points off on your first test, just to see what you would do. You certainly didn’t deserve it, and he thought you would’ve challenged him on it, or come talk to him. Or even offer your body to him sooner.
He did it over and over again, until you were on the verge of receiving an F. He was getting frustrated, and you were a damn tease.
He was never like this before, and if you exposed him, he could lose his job. But maybe then he could be with you in public? He let out a deep groan, his eyes rolling back as he was fucking you for his release.
Your professor didn’t realize that your face was turning pink, your nails scratching at his hands that were on your throat, and you were on the verge of cumming. You gasp as he finally let you breathe, his hands now on the desk behind you.
The room was filled with his vocalizations, his whimpers, his mumbles of how good you feel, and how much he needed this.
He even called you his baby, his good student, love, and when you finally came— his eyes were glued to the white substance dripping out of you.
That was when he knew you were going to be his. He was going to be the only one that could make you feel this way.
That day, you received the A you have been wanting. But you also indulged the man that’s been pining after you, and he never stopped.
Allure: Idk why, but i’ve been really active lately omg.
actually so obsessed with Jace Stardiamond now bc literally what’s his deal. Like Brennan says that he and porter have “always been a duo” so has he been shatterstarred since freshman year? Has he been in on the plan but didn’t get shatterstarred until spring break sophomore year? Does he believe in porter and want him to be a god? Are they fucking? Like truly what is your motivation dude
kiri is so manipulative im sorry like he’s too nice to not be thinking about keeping you all to himself. he’s so nice that he’s toxic. he’s overbearingly charming, eijirou’s bright smiles are so sweet that you feel a little sickly under his adoring gaze but you love the sugar rush he gives you. you bask in the attention he gives you.
the red head tells you that he loved you like a week into you talking — and you can’t say no to him or deny him because he’s truly the nicest guy you’ve ever met and when will you find another person as perfect as him? better than any man you’ve ever dated before, it’s like he’s walked right out of a romance novel because he’s saying all the right things :((
you don’t realise that kirishima’s got you trapped until it’s way too late. until your friends stop replying to your texts because you’re always with your boyfriend. because he never lets you out of his sight and goes everywhere with you — all under the guise of keeping you safe, protecting you, making sure his girl stays safe :((
at least that’s what he tells you with that same sickly sweet smile — except this time you notice the darkness shimmering in the depths of his ruby red eyes.
sometimes I think of all the on-the-surface warm, well-meaning but deeply ineffectual advice and attention john gives harrow through harrow the ninth (make some soup and get some sleep! get a hobby! don't be so hard on yourself! self care harrow! as long as I need take no actual responsibility in this relationship whatsoever I would have loved to be your dad!) set up against the stark truth that with his other hand he has been staging her attempted horrific murder again and again and again like a living nightmare on the logic that it will 'put her down or fix her'. and then I find that I wish there is a hell. a special hell where twitch streamers turned necromantic death emperors go
it's immensely funny to me how andrew lloyd webber read this passage from the book and was like yeah the journey down to the phantom's lair is this really breathtaking magical gondola ride where christine is just captivated by the strange and fantastical beauty of it all (see below)
when in the novel they're both like in a rowboat in the dark with christine scared out of her mind and confused as hell while erik is paddling like he's out for an extreme day of fishing and just staring christine down for the entire duration of the journey without blinking once . like mind you his eyes quite literally GLOW in the DARK and he's just fucking staring into her soul and silently rowing and probably not even breathing like
everyone knows that ghost doesn't make any mistakes. his reports are ideal, every sentence is well-written and it's not like he needs anyone to correct him.
imagine the shock of everyone when higher!ranked reader tells him he has to rewrite his report, and this motherfucker smirks, asking what's wrong with it.
just because he wants her to sit here with him, talk to him, spend more time with him, knowing very well that your husband is waiting for you at home. he does it with a certain intention, just to irritate your husband, just to do a fake-worry face, when you come back after his call.
"every work has sacrifices" he tells you, placing his hand on your shoulder. it's intimate gesture; he knows that physical touch will get to you. he's aware of everything, he knows this is the advantage he needs. "he won't understand it. ever."
soap looks at ghost like he's crazy, when he meets him in the hallway. asks what this is about, but ghost just grumbles that he had a bad day, trying to justify himself.
trying to justify his need to destroy the marriage between you and your husband.
but is it really destroying, when he's just there for you?
The only thing I remember is killing people. You say I'm someone who saves people. I won't kill you — but I don't believe you either. Do you think I'm a fool?
You're not a fool.
Mysterious Lotus Casebook (2023) | Ep. 20
You may resist, but it's too late. You already embraced the powers the parasite gave you. You leveraged them to manipulate, to dominate, to survive.
Your nature is no longer your own.
Mayhew failed the save to resist the Emperor's offer, and I have never been more pleased at a consequence! What an amazing moment.
Timelapse, line drawing, and character musing beneath the cut.
This choice!! Or rather, this lack of choice!
I love, love, love how failing the save made Mayhew's own will ambiguous, even to himself. He didn't want to be changed, he didn't want to forfeit his humanity (gnomanity)...or did he? He resisted. He opened his mouth to say I will not, but the door to his mind was already unlocked, power welcomed in. Mayhew will never know who unlatched it.
Also, while this is a Gale run -- Mayhew and Gale make each other worse in the most devoted, well-meaning way; the heavens will rue their names -- it also kind of feels like an Emperor run. A subtextual badwrong not-romance.
The Emperor and Mayhew are allies of circumstance turned intimate enemies. The Emperor listens to Mayhew's every thought, gives protection which Mayhew needs, offers advice and temptations which Mayhew takes. Mayhew likes the Dream Guardian; Mayhew cannot shut the Emperor out. Mayhew would see the Emperor dead, if he let himself think about it, but he would miss him after he was gone. And, of course, Mayhew is too curious for his own good, and the Emperor is full of answers.
For the two of them, partial ceremorphosis is a kind of consummation: what could be more intimate than shaping someone from within and without? Metaphorphosis is a gift, by one telling, and a horror story by another.
You are exquisite, the Emperor praised. Mayhew will never know if he became so by his own will.
(He failed the save by one (1) point.)
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Timelapse! It includes all the silly things I drew for my friends, including: 1 tonsure, 3 neon signs, 2 cat emoji, 1 crotch face, and the emperor's armor drawn with my left hand. Spot them all!
Lines!
I don't usually work primarily with line, but I love it. In some ways, it's easier than painting, and in other ways much harder. I find I can't fudge things as much with linework as I can with paint; because the stroke is smaller, I have to be more specific. Even if I abstract details away, I need to understand the underlying form until I know what I am abstracting. It was fun having to be so rigorous.