Art class was your favorite subject, something about the fun of working with different mediums and such. It was favorite, but the teacher? He was just as nice. His blonde Haare held back in a messy bun, his tattooed hands decorated with rings, his calming voice and German accent. He was your favorite teacher.

You groaned, trying to draw with a pen, yet it wasn’t working. Maybe it was out of ink? Yet you heard a soft chuckle from behind you. You looked over your shoulder to see your teacher bill. He leaned over and gently took the pen from you and turned it around. Had you really been using a pen backward the entire time?

“Here, try that.” he teased lightly.