#FUN FACT: my middle school science teacher kept one of those things in his classroom and would air blast students who fell asleep in class

[wazzuppy]

ryan and shane air blasting each other at every possible opportunity is such a sibling thing to do

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝑻𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓'𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒕 (𝑱𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐) 𝑹𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨× 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞)

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐒𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐅𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐀𝐔

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟒.𝟗𝐊

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐃𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐦, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐱 (𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧), 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐃𝐨𝐦! 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨/ 𝐒𝐮𝐛! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @yunhoiseyecandy @multidreams-and-desires @galaxteez @hanatiny @deja-vux

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"Miss L/N? May I please have a word with you?"

While others would have already been sweating nervously at having their journalism professor single them out after they had just turned in an essay 2 days ago, the called out girl had a smug grin on her face that she did not care to hide as she practically strutted over to her teacher's desk. Looking over to make sure all the other students were gone and door was closed, she immediately pushed away some of the books on the edge of the desk before perching herself on it, one leg crossed over the over. Taking out the cherry tootsie pop from her mouth with a loud pop, she asked him:

"How can I be of service?" With a wink she put thr candy back in her mouth, making sure he could hear the sucking sound she made as she wrapped her lips around it.

He shook his head as he recognized the all too familiar tone in her voice that meant she was up to no good again.

"Don't start with me Y/N, you're already pushing your luck. First off......."

He tapped her exposed thigh with the tip of his pencil.

"You know I don't want you, or anyone sitting on my space. Second..."

One of his hands reached out and took away the lollipop from her mouth and dumped it in the trash bin under his desk.

"I've already told you no more eating in my classroom." He reminded her.

With a pout on her lips, she whined softly.

"But I was hungry! And besides.......I saw you staring at me in class as I sucked on it."

Clearing his throat, the black haired male adjusted his tie nervously, not thinking he got caught.

"You're very distracting at times." He excused himself.

Letting out a giggle, she scooted close to where she was sitting right in front of him, legs spread out enough that if he bent his neck, he'd be able to see right up her short plaid skirt and gaze at her bold choice of the pink lace panties he loved seeing on her during the nights she went over to his house. But he resisted the urge, instead keeping his face up and away from her lower bottom.

"Maybe you're just having trouble focusing cause you're too stressed......but I can help with that Yunho."

Feeling bolder than other days, she slipped off his desk and straddled one of his thick and massive thighs, her lips attaching themselves to his neck as one of her hands rested in between his legs, groping at his now hardening member that was bulging out of his khaki dress pants. Yunho bit back a moan, one of his hands instinctively reaching over to caress her thigh, drawing out circles before going further up her skirt, eyes scrunching together in confusion when he did not feel the material of the safety shorts she was supposed to wear. Feeling something soak his thigh as she slowly grinded down on it, his large hands gripped her thighs and got her off him, placing her back on his desk with a loud thud. She gasped softly when he lifted up her skirt and saw the familiar flower pattern covering her now soaking core, a visible wet patch in the middle of it. Yunho looked back at her with a disgruntled gaze.

"Surprise?" She batted her eyelashes at him rather innocently.

Letting out a huff, he pulled her skirt down before rummaging through his bag.

"Not only do you belatedly disobey dress code and wear a uniform skirt that's much too short, but you don't even wear your safety shorts?" He was beyond annoyed at this point, and Y/N knew it. Wanting to poke fun at him, she snorted.

"What? Afraid I'll bend over and someone else will see?"

Although she meant it as a joke, she immediately stopped laughing when he slapped her thigh.

"Yes."

She gulped as he stared her down. She could see the jealousy burning in his eyes, could also see the lust hidden behind him. He wanted nothing more than to bend her over that dammed furniture right then and spank her for even thinking about pulling off such a daring thing. But then he remembered where they were, the prestigious university he worked at and she studied in and calmed himself down, refusing to give in to her fantasy of having him fuck her in the very classroom where they met a year ago.

Taking a deep breath, he handed her a spare pair of shorts he kept with him.

"Go to the bathroom and put these on right now." He ordered her.

Looking at them, she chuckled.

"And just how did you know to keep a pair with you?" She inquired.

Smiling softly, he leaned down and brushed his nose against hers.

"I'm dating possibly the brattiest and most mischievous vixen in this school. I have to be prepared for anything."

With an innocent peck to her lips, he ushered her off his desk again.

"Now run along and do as I say. You're already on enough problems as it is, especially after you did utterly horrible on your last essay." He picked up a tiny stack of papers and waved it in front of her face.

Grimacing, she looked up at him.

"Does this mean I'm failing the semester?"

"I don't know...what do you think?" He questioned her.

Knowing she was screwed, she put on the cutest and most innocent puppy eyes she was capable of making and began playing with the tie across her teacher's neck.

"Please professor, don't you think you could be a little nice and give me a chance to make up for it?"

Leaning in, she whispered in his ear.

"Perhaps with one of those sloppy and messy blowjobs you love getting?"

Gulping slightly, Yunho gently pried her hands off him.

"Nice try Miss L/N, but if I'm going to be a fair teacher, I have to treat you the same as the others in these situations."

Her mouth dropped as he nonchalantly began packing his things to go have lunch in a teacher's lounge and hang out there until his next class.

"Seriously? Not even if I promise to do better or even bake you a cake?" She scoffed.

"Nope. And I'll remind you the last time you tried to bake me a cake, you nearly burned your eyebrows off." He let out a soft, deep laughter as he brushed past her to leave the room.

"But I'm your girlfriend!" She complained.

"And precisely because you're my girlfriend is why I want you to do better, even if it means failing you to get you to straighten up your act. Seriously princess, just because you're practically an heiress, doesn't mean I'll allow you to do as you please let alone give in to your every whim."

With a kiss to her forehead and a pat on her head he reminded her to behave and to follow his previous instructions of going to the bathroom before leaving her alone in the room.

Feeling fury rise up in her body, Y/N stormed out of the classroom and headed straight to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. Hating the fact her stubborn and hard headed boyfriend practically called her a spoiled brat, she locked herself in one of the stalls and proceeded to dip her hand inside her folds, rubbing furiously at the clit, desperately trying to get some relief from all the pent up sexual tension she'd been accumulating. Inserting a finger inside herself, she tried to imagine that it was one of her boyfriend's long fingers penetrating her, even though it was no where near the real thing. Sometimes she'd get wet during class from him just tapping his fingers on the whiteboard, picturing all the times he'd buried them deep inside her and had her squirting all over his arm.

She imagined him laughing in her ear, calling her a dirty little girl and teasing her for making such a mess of herself as his thumb continued to abuse her sensitive little nub. She released long and deep moans, not giving any fucks about if someone came in and found out what she was doing.

Frustrated at not being able to get herself off like she wanted to, she simply tore the lace panties off herself and threw them in the trash can. Stepping out of the stall, she reached for her bag to get the shorts she'd been ordered to put on, but suddenly stopped. Still upset and not getting her way, Y/N zipped her bag back up and adjusted her skirt. With a little shrug, she calmly walked out the bathroom and headed to her next class. On her way over, she accidentally dropped her phone which sent her panicking for a moment.

"Please don't be broken." She was screwed if she broke the third phone her parents bought her in less than a month.

Bending over, she flipped it over and let out a sigh of relief as the screen was intake and still working. Standing upright, she stuffed it back in her bag and continued along as if nothing was the matter, as if she wasn't already late to class....

As if she totally didn't just get caught in her little scandalous lack of clothes.

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Yunho calmly picked up some of his lunch on his fork, ignoring the usual snickering and gossip of his seniors who were seated on the table next to his. He had to fight back the urge to roll his eyes or groan dramatically at their nonsense.

"It was so hot." Seonghwa, the social science teacher laughed.

Hongjoong, who was the visual and performing arts teacher, leaned in to whisper, not so discreetly since Yunho could still hear him perfectly.

"I know. I nearly dropped my books when I saw her ass on display. I wanted to go over there and smack it." He admitted unashamedly.

"Oh my God did you catch a glimpse of her pussy? I'm pretty sure it was soaking and fuck.....I just wanted to have a taste."

Yunho cringed when the older male swiped his obnoxiously long tongue across his lips.

"I bet she tastes so good and I bet her pussy is so fucking tight. I'd totally fuck her if I got the chance."

Seonghwa agreed with Hongjoong's words.

"She'd probably let you. I mean.....if she bold enough to come to this oh so holy school with those extremely short skirts and not wear underwear, I'm pretty sure she'd fuck around with a teacher or two." He added.

"Wasn't there a rumor circulating last year about her hitting on a teacher or something?" Hongjoong tried to remember.

Seonghwa shrugged.

"Wouldn't surprise me if it was true. And it wouldn't surprise me if any teacher accepted her advances. L/N Y/N is a seriously gorgeous girl, I don't think anyone could resist her."

Yunho dropped his fork when he heard her name, his blood boiling now as he replayed all their words now in a different light as he realized they were talking about his girlfriend. Grabbing his lunch, he quickly stood up and threw it in the trash, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore, but instead feeling angry and furious. Checking his time, he knew she was about to come out of her next class any minute now, so he waited for her outside his classroom, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

When she finally turned the corner, his eyes narrowed in on her, more specifically on her skirt. Sauntering over to her, he caught her off guard when he gripped her wrist harshly and dragged her inside the classroom, leaving her confused and wondering what had gotten into him. Making sure to lock the door behind him, Yunho pinned Y/N to the wall and in a flash lifted her skirt up, his face reddening as he confirmed it indeed was her that Seonghwa and Hongjoong were gushing and lusting about.

"Did I not specifically instruct you to put on the safety shorts?"

She shivered at the harsh tone he was speaking to her with.

"I...well, yes but-"

She let out a squeal when his fist banged on the concrete next to her face.

"Then explain to me why not only did you disobeyed me, but you actually went off parading around the school with absolutely nothing to cover that drenched cunt of yours."

She was absolutely speechless at his demeanor, she had never seen him this angry before and she wasn't going to lie, it was quickly arousing her.

"Yunho...Yunho I'm-"

He cut her off by pressing his lips against hers, one hand gripping her jaw as his tongue poked out to invade her mouth, as his other hand hiked her skirt up, a finger sliding across her folds.

"Don't fucking tell me you're sorry. We both know whores like you aren't build to feel regret."

His mouth silenced the sounds that came out if her as a result of him slipping one of fingers inside her, the very thing she had been craving all day.

"Oh fuck..." She breathed out when he gave her no chance to adjust as he shoved a second finger inside, circling them around to stretch her walls out.

"Hmmm yeah. That's all you think about don't you? Your head is just filled with thoughts of getting fucked."

She couldn't resist it as she began rolling her hips, wanting him to fuck his fingers deeper inside her.

"Is that why you allowed Professor Seonghwa and Hongjoong to see you like that? Did you purposefully bend over to let them see your filthy hole? Hmm? I bet you did it on purpose."

She opened her eyes and gasped harshly when he then added a third finger, the wet noises her pussy was making now becoming louder.

"Wh-what?" She managed to get out a single word.

Yunho grunted as he shoved his fingers deeper in her, almost tempted to shove his entire fist inside.

"Don't play dumb. They saw you bending over and saw your lack of underwear. I had to hear their bullshit talk of wanting to eat your pussy and fucking it." He let out a low growl as he recalled their lewd words, sending him into an angry mode once again, prompting him to move his lips from her mouth to proceed with an attack to her neck, sucking on all her sensitive spots.

"Did you want that? Did you want fucking Park Seonghwa to eat out that pussy of yours? Or did you want Kim Hongjoong to hit it from the back as he slapped your ass red?"

Before Y/N knew it, she was releasing such erotic noises as she threw her head back, gasping out as an unexpected orgasm took over her. Yunho also couldn't believe how unbelievably fast she came, and he was beyond pissed as he realized that he helped her get off to the thought of someone who wasn't him. Pulling his fingers out of her, he squished her cheeks, the remnants of her cum now plastered on the sides of her face.

"Did you seriously just cum at the thought of those two assholes?!"

Without a warning, he lifted her up and roughly sat her on his desk.

"Do I need to remind you who you belong to? Who this pussy belongs to?!"

Spreading her legs as wide as they could go, Yunho dropped to his knees and buried his face in her heat, tongue poking out to suck off all the juices his hands had her spilling out from before. He had no shame as he spilled out almost animalistic sounds as began slurping hungrily at her heat, paying close attention to her clit.

"No one but me gets to eat your pussy out. No one can make you get you like this but me." Pulling away, he spit onto her clit before diving back in, moaning erratically to send vibrations into her mound.

Y/N's chest began rising up and as her breathing became more labored. Her hands tried reaching for his head to try and grind herself against his face, but he harshly slapped them away.

"Keep them up or I'll tie them up." He hissed at her.

Wanting to keep herself from being tempted to move them back to his head, she opted to place them on her chest, kneading at her breasts as Yunho continued to devour her, tongue flicking in and out of her core. She felt herself ready to burst at any moment, and Yunho knew it too. He waited til she was a mere slurp away from cumming before removing himself, earning a frustrated groan from her.

"Yunho!"

She sat up to complain, but his hand wrapped around her neck and pushed her back on the desk, causing a choked gasp to get caught in her throat.

"Shut up you slut. You'll get and take what I decide to give you and you're in no place to complain. I'm still upset at you failing and livid at you being a slutty exhibitionist."

Pulling her up by her hair, he got her off the desk and shoved her to her knees, placing himself in front of her. He had a sadistic look as he began undoing his belt.

"I believe you offered to suck me off a few hours before......well I'm taking you up on that offer. Suck me off and I'll let you cum. Show me what the mouth of yours can do."

She was nearly drooling when his red tip came out, brushing against her nose. It was painfully erect and leaking precum. Wrapping her hand around it, she made sure to spit on it and coat it generously so her hand could stroke him more easily. She looked up at him, sending him a mischievous smile as she began taking him in her mouth. Her eyes never left his face as she sunk his whole length into her mouth, gagging a little when she reached the base, Yunho inhaling deeply as she proved yet again that she was more than capable of stuffing him down her throat. She began bobbing her head, swallowing around the head while her hand worked on the rest of his dick.

Yunho let her do as she pleased, wanting to get her as relaxed as possible before he commenced his plan. Silently, he removed the belt completely off his pants, making move as if he was going to place it on the desk behind her. While she was distracted, he suddenly removed her from his length, a trail of saliva dripping down her chin.

"Ok.....since you obviously can't seem to do it, let me give you a few private lessons."

Y/N slightly panicked when he wrapped the belt around her neck, using it as makeshift leash and collar. He harshly pressed her back into him.

"Open that mouth of yours."

Following his orders, she opened up as wide as she could. Wasting no time, Yunho slammed his cock back inside her mouth, hips moving at a fast pace as he began to fuck her face, hand never letting go of the long strap. Y/N hollowed her cheeks out, gagging and releasing choking sounds every time he hit the back of her throat. Yunho snickered amusedly as he watched drool pour out of her mouth, prompting him to go even rougher on her.

"That's it, just like that-fuck!"

He shut his eyes tightly, eyebrows furrowed as he began chasing his own release. The girl underneath him moaned uncontrollably as he tightened the belt around her, feeling his spurts of cum flowing down her throat.

"Swallow it all you slut. I don't want you spitting any of it out."

Holding her head in place, he made sure he had emptied himself completely before pulling out of her, her lips red and swollen as she gasped for air. Inhaling deeply, she stuck her tongue out to show she had indeed swallowed all of his cum, prompting Yunho to caress her cheek affectionately.

"Good girl......."

Cocking his head to the side, he easily lifted her up into his arms.

"But you're not off the hook just yet."

Y/N stuck her hands out to keep her face from slamming too harshly into the desk, cheek pressed on the cold surface as she felt Yunho lift her skirt higher to expose her ass. She looked over and noticed him loosing up his tie, tearing it off him before grabbing both of her hands and placing them behind her back, wrapping the tie around them and rendering them unable to move. "Look at you, looking so small and pliant...... like you aren't some filthy little whore."

He began to slowly tease her, slapping his massive cock onto her cheeks and then sliding it across her slick folds. Y/N pushed her ass more out, wanting him to just shove it inside her.

"Oh, are you desperate to cum little one? You want my big fat cock inside you to fuck you dumb?" He cooed at her.

She immediately nodded.

"Yes! Please Yunho! Fuck me dumb!" She begged him, wiggling her ass for him to give in.

She began whining when he still made no move to give in.

"Yunho! Would you please-Ahh!"

With no warning, he tore right inside her, hips setting a rough and fast pace. Y/N tried to grip the desk but was reminded about the fact her hands were bound behind her back. Frantic and staggered moans came out of her mouth as Yunho kept hitting her g-spot, making her previous ruined orgasm suddenly spike up once again. He noticed it too, feeling how her walls began squeezing around him.

"Go ahead. Cum, I know you want to."

Needing no further instruction, she came all over his cock, a long drawn out mewl of his name all she could say as she panted heavily as she was coming down from her high. She had no time to relax though as Yunho simply sped up his thrusts, taking advantage of her sensitive state.

"Y-Yunho no! Please! T-too much!" She cried out, earning her a slap on her ass.

"Shut up! You wanted to come so badly? And I'm happy to deliver."

His grunts and her piercing screams could probably be heard all the way across the hallway, but neither of them cared, Y/N because she got him to finally break and him because he got to claim her as his own. Taking a hold of one of her thighs, he lifted her leg up to rest on the desk, hitting even deeper inside her. Letting out ragged and hoarse grunts, Yunho slightly pulled Y/N up using the belt around her neck.

"Tell me who's fucking you this hard? Who's making you feel this good? Hmm? Answer me!" He smacked her ass once again.

Y/N tried to answer, but all that came out was incoherent gibberish, unable to form any words. Yunho couldn't help but release an evil laugh at the state she was in.

"Awww. I really did fuck you dumb. You can't even remember any words. Let me help you refresh your memory."

She let out a shriek when his hand came down to slap her ass.

"A."

He smacked her once again.

"B."

A third slap resonated through the room.

"C."

She had tears falling at this point from her eyes due to the overstimulation and from the seering pain on her bum from how hard his hand was slamming down on it as he continued to say the alphabet out loud for her. She knew he was definitely going to leave more than a few hand prints on it. He was barely getting to the letter 'N' when she began spasming underneath him.

"Yunho! Stop! I'm-fuck!"

She couldn't control herself as she began squirting from how hard he was thrusting in her, a pool of her liquids forming on the floor. When Yunho saw, he let out a groan of accomplishment, feeling smug at getting her to burst out of control. He wasn't satisfied though, he was nowhere near done with her. Not changing his pace at all, he continued his relentless attack on her throbbing and swollen pussy, one hand holding her down in place while the other went to stuff his fingers inside her mouth.

"I know how much you love my fingers. Such a slut for them. You get horny just by watching them during class."

He felt her muffled moans on his fingertips, followed by a choked out grunt when he pushed the deeper in her mouth.

"Tell me? Do you even remotely think Seonghwa or Hongjoong can compete with me? Can they?!"

Whimpering pathetically, she shook her head as she felt another spurts of liquid drip down her thighs. She was beyond worn out at this point, but wanting to push her past her limit, Yunho began untying her hands.

"Look at you making such a mess on the floor. Tell me if anyone can make you drip as much as I do? Can anyone make you cum for yet a fifth time?"

He took out his fingers from her mouth to let her try and talk.

"Please! Yunho! I c-cant! Can't!" She wailed.

Her pleas fell on deaf ears as he flipped her onto her back, holding her legs up onto his wide shoulders and quickly slipping inside her once again.

"Yes you can and you will. I know a little cumslut like you can give me one more, just as messy as the last two."

At this point, her nails were raking along the wood underneath her, her vision blurry from all the overwhelming pleasure she was enduring, her thighs aching from how hard his fingers were gripping on them, prints no doubt were going to be left on them, evidence of all that happened in those 4 walls. She was no longer aware of anything around her, the only thing she could hear was the sound of their sweaty skin slapping against each other and the squealching sounds coming from where they were connected. She muttered something incoherent which she could not even understand herself, but Yunho knew what she was trying to say.

"Come on. Give it to me. Make a mess all over me and then I'll fill up your dirty little hole with my cum."

His thrusts were erratic and sloppy at this point, hand coming down to slap her throbbing and reddened clit, causing her to jolt and squirt all over him once again, her body thrashing and quivering as she tried to move away from him but he just held her in place. With a few more thrusts, he shakily came undone, his hot and thick cum coating inside her walls.

"Fuck! Shit!"

His body collapsed on top of hers, breath hitching as he wheezed slightly. After a few minutes, he got up, bangs sticking to his forehead, sweat trickling down his cheeks and nape of his neck. She was in no better state than him, hair all disheveled and too dazed out to even think. Pulling out of her, a light trickle of liquids came out, falling onto the puddle that was already there.

"Oh my god." Yunho was astonished by the mess they created, unable to stop the shy giggle from escaping his mouth.

Pulling his pants back up, not caring about the wet stains all over it, he turned his attention back to his girlfriend. Bending down, he cupped her cheeks and began peppering kisses all over her face, fingers moving the hair away from her forehead.

"You ok my little princess?" He checked on her.

"Tired......can't...move." Through labored breathing she managed to answer him.

"Don't worry my tiny doll. I'll take you back to my place and take proper care of you."

Grabbing her limp arms, he wrapped them around his neck before lifting her up as if she was nothing more than a piece of paper. Y/N mumbled something with a whiny tone as she buried her face in his neck. Yunho chuckled as he processed her words.

"Well......ok. Just because I kinda feel bad at the state you're in, I'll give you another chance to redo your essay. But I want it turned in before the week is over ok?"

She nodded softly, arms clinging tighter around his neck as they walked through the empty hallways.

"And you say you're not the type to have a teacher's pet." She poked his chest slightly.

"Ya, behave or I'll punish you little pet." He gave her a halfhearted warning, that he knew he'd never follow through on after her heard her fussy little whine.

As they were nearing the exit, they were caught by none of than Seonghwa and Hongjoong, who were talking amongst themselves and stared in shock when they saw them together. Yunho protectively moved one of his hands underneath her thighs to press her flowing skirt to her body, not willing to allow them another glimpse at what was rightfully his. With a completely calm demeanor, he smiled at them.

"Hey guys. Don't mind us, we're just going home so if you'll excuse us."

Walking past them, he tried so hard not to laugh at their shocked and bewildered expressions.

"Oh! By the way, if you see the custodian, tell them I'm sorry about the mess."

❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃❃

[ddosie]

# 2 and soobin for the prompt please!

you wouldn't say you were the sentimental type.

things came and went. kids grew into adults. that was just how life was. people grew apart, sometimes closer, and it was all expected.

you just never thought you would have to face it yourself.

it was a problem that you had only read about in story books. the handmaiden watches the price she fell in love with get married. she moves on. the king lets go of the memories of his favorite knight. he moves on. the queen loses her son, her only son. she moved on.

they all moved on. so why couldn't you?

"class! class! let's start this school year by introducing ourselves! i'll go first. my name is ms. hilton, and i'm your english teacher for this year! i've worked at this school for a long time now, and i can't wait to teach all of you kids!

okay, now that i've done my introduction, shall we go along the classroom and introduce ourselves? starting from you sir, yes you with the white and black sneakers. please start by telling us your name and a fun fact about yourself."

you watched as the said boy stood up, pushing his hair back with his hand.

"uh... hi everyone, i'm soobin, and one fun fact about me is i went to Europe this year."

as the next person got up to introduce themselves, you found yourself staring at him.

jeez, he was tall for a middle schooler.

the sun is filtering through the blinds in your room, and rays of light are being painted across the walls. everything is a golden color, from the desk to the bedside.

"so... what topic are we choosing for this project?" you watched through the lens of your glasses as soobin furrowed his brow.

"do you think, maybe aristotle?" you nodded your head eagerly, so soobin stood up and walked over to the teachers desk. a second later he sent you a thumbs up.

"aristotle it is."

you twirled your pen in your fingers as soobin took a seat. "hey do you want to work on the project with me over the weekend? i know a really good café...?"

there was a small smile on your face, and you nodded.

"yeah sure, what time?"

you got up from your chair, grabbing a camera. in this lighting, the room was just too pretty to not take a picture of.

"y/n, for someone of that height, there is no reason you should be walking that fast."

you sent a small smile to the long-legged boy trying to catch up with you in the hallway.

"if you don't want to be late to class bin, you're going to have to put those legs to work."

you let soobin catch up with you, and you slowed down your pace from thereon so the two of you could walk side by side. soobin pointed at the trophy shelf.

"do you think we'll win this year too? i hope we do, yeonjun promised a party at his house if we get placed first."

you gave soobin a reassuring pat on his arm.

"you'll be finneee... if you win, i'll take you out to icecream after."

the boy turned to look at you, a smile creeping into his eyes.

"really?"

"really."

fiddling around with the camera, you brushed the light dust that had collected on the top off. you watched as the particles were swept away, dancing in the dying sunlight.

"we should do this every year."

you turned to look at soobin lying next to you, ice-cream sandwhich in one hand, while the other was tucked behind him, supporting his head. he was looking above, admiring the night sky.

"you mean climb some random apartment stairs to get to rooftops? and risk our lives every season game to see a different view of the city at night?"

soobin let out a small laugh. "yeah, well when you put it that way, it does sound bad." you smiled, lying down with your own ice-cream sandwich, propping an arm under your head.

"...i meant the icecream tradition. you'll be there for my next season game, right?"

now it was your turn to admire the night sky.

"of course. i wouldn't miss it for the world"

grabbing a tissue, you went to work at the camera, cleaning dust from all crevices and corners of the lenses. you were surprised. when was the last time you had even taken a photo on this thing?

"hey bin, what's up?"

grabbing your phone and placing it on your desk, you made yourself comfortable, ready for any facetime tea he would spill.

"ah, y/n..." you watched as he ran a hand through his hair from the other side of the screen. "i don't think... i don't think i'll be able to make it to your birthday this year."

there was a quiet silence. you felt like you'd been punched in the gut.

"if i can ask, um, why?" you fiddled with the hem of your hoodie, waiting for an answer.

"the schedules for the basketball game lineups just came out, and the final season game is happening on your birthday. i just wanted to tell you in case we do win that far and i won't be able to come."

you decided to smile at the way soobin had said just in case they win. the two of you were in your sophomore year, and he hadn't lost a game since middle school.

"yeah, don't worry about it soob. we can still get icecream after."

you felt a turn in your stomach when the boy gave you a relived smile, running a hand through his hair again.

"that's all i wanted to say, i've got to go now"

"hm? why?"

"chem tutoring. these freshman are horrible at science."

adjusting the camera, you zoomed in on random objects in your room. the bookshelf. your water bottle. the lamp. click. click. click.

“did you hear? that senior yeonjun will be throwing a bigger party than last year! are you going y/n?”

you shrugged. “when is it?”

“I think it‘ll be this saturday.”

"can’t. I’ll be out of town”

"for what?

“college. I sent an early application, and one of them reached out and wants me to tour the campus. if i go, I’ll have a guaranteed spot next year, and I probably won’t have to apply to any others.”

your friend let out a low whistle and patted your head.

"well when you put it like that, I guess you really can’t go… but maybe we could get something after the game? i heard the ice cream place was still open”

just like that, a mere sentence felt like a silent punch to the gut.

you looked away from your friends face, scanning the cafeteria unknowingly. you were met with the view of a senior tussling soobin's hair, an arm slung across his neck. you could hear their loud conversation even from where you were sitting.

"you coming to my house after the game? me and the guys we're planning to get some icecream and stay over at my house for the night."

you thought you saw something flash in soobins eye's before he smiled, nodding in agreement.

abruptly standing up, you tossed an apology to your friend about how you wouldn't be able to make it and you had just remembered you had some important emails to send. you didn't want to be around when the words of confirmation came out of his mouth itself.

so much for a flash. the last time you had icecream with him was two years ago.

adjusting the lens once more, you caught your eye on a ticket stuck between two books on your desk. you slowly pulled it out. it was blue and grey, your school colors. there was a hole punched on the bottom, indicating it was used.

"and it's the last two minutes of the game, and hybe high is in the lead! if they can make this basket, it will guarantee a regional win for the school. oh! there goes hyunjin... passing to donghyuck who... also just passed to eric who, jeez, passed to soobin...! look at that! look at that!! we are in the last minute everyone, and if captain of hybe high makes this basket, like i said they will be the regional winners!!"

you let the sound of the announcer wash over you, leaning forward in your seat to watch the game.

for some reason you kept coming back. to this gym. to the basketball games.

to soobin.

it had been over a year since the two of you had really talked, the last icecream run being well over three years ago (a promise to go before your birthday was conveniently broken), and the last facetime was to ask for calculus answers.

you knew that you had faded out of the life of the star basketball player.

you just couldn't accept it.

"and soobin gets closer to the rim... oh! it looks like taehyun from bighit acadmy is a pretty good blocker... anyways look at him go! we have twenty second left, and even if he doesn't score hybe is still in for a win... okay, okAY?? WAIT WHAT!! WHAT!!"

there's a loud screech of the intercom that mixes with the cheers of the crowd. you found yourself on your feet, fists pumping in the air in celebration alongside the students in the bleachers despite yourself.

"AND CHOI SOOBIN SECURES THE PLACE OF HYBE HIGH IN DISTRICT REGIONALS!! ONCE AGAIN THE ACE HAS TOPPED EVERYONE AND BRANG HIS TEAM TO VICTORY!!"

you held the ticket tenderly. on the backside was stamped senior, a marker that counted as a discount for the upperclassmen that wanted to watch the game. flipping it over again, you felt a wave of something hit your stomach as you took in the grey and blue.

"hey y/n, wait up!"

you whipped around at the sound of an all too familiar voice.

there, stood soobin, in all his six foot and one inch glory.

"you.." he panted, hands on his knees as if he had run a million miles. "you walk too fast. what's the rush? you were cheering for me so loudly."

there was that feeling again. of being punched in the gut. by that invisible hand that seemed to favor your stomach whenever soobin was around.

"ah, you know... just getting home."

you tried not to stare too long. soobin had grown, matured. the baby face he donned as a middle schooler was gone, only his dimples a reminder of the childhood smiles you shared together.

"you're not... going anywhere? going straight home?"

you gave him a small smile. "...yeah. i'm going soon, so i really need to pack. good game though! you really did good this time around."

"going soon... to where y/n? are you taking a road trip without me?" you sensed a wary tone under his teasing words. three years apart, and this was the news you would have to tell him. curse the fates.

"yup! im, ah... moving cross country. i got accepted a while back."

you could already see the question in his eyes. how far? which major? on campus or near?

why didn't you tell me?

there was a moment of silence while you rocked back and forth on your heels. soobin pushed his hair back, looking into your eyes.

the heaviness of a thousand unanswered questions weighed in the air.

"so... want to catch up over icecream?"

as you held the basketball ticket from senior year, you realized three things.

one: you were the sentimental type. you clung onto old memories and good times like they were life jackets, keeping you afloat in the mundanity of your new life.

two: you didn't really like the idea of always moving on. it seemed so easy in the story books, that after a couple years the queen goes back to her ordinary life, the king appoints a new knight, and the princess finds someone she truly loved. but was there a time where you would just stop caring? was there a day you would wake up and didn’t think about what could have happened, the if only’s and what if’s?

three: you couldn't move on. you prided yourself on being able to move faster, walking a pace before everyone else. life was a journey, and you were going places. quite literally. you were floating when everyone was sinking.

but you were only floating because you had your life jacket.

...

things came and went. kids grew into adults. that was just how life was. people grew apart, sometimes closer, and it was all expected.

you clutched the ticket in your hand, the end slightly wrinkled by your fingers.

you just never thought you would have to face it yourself.

[lyn-rambles]

Did you know? || Yaku Morisuke x Reader ||

Hello again my fellows

Ok so this one shot is part of the Haikyuu Headquarters server collab  we all very happy to show our works, so please check out other works and give all the writers and artists a look uwu. If you want to see more of this type of content please use this.

I hope this time it gets posted because tumblr has been eating this thing ;-;

Pairing: Yaku x reader

Prompt: You woke me up at 3am for this?

Altern Universe: N/A

                                                                 PoV: Second person 

Warnings: None

Word count: 2.5 K

Yaku had a rough day, practice with the Japan National Team had exhausted him, he could barely walk to his shower to get off all the sweat from his body. He had been staying at the Japan's volleyball Association’s Dorms while he got arrangements done to stay in a more comfortable place. The cool water felt great against his sore body, they practically cleaned the gym floor that day doing drills and receives most of it. He was amazed to see that Hinata had gotten better at them and also was glad to see some old friends and known faces, he was also happy to see Kuroo again but he wasn’t going to tell him that out loud… He had a reputation to keep.

He closed the water and stepped out fresh, and feeling better, maybe not less tired but a bit more comfortable with his body. Yaku slipped on his pajamas and looked at his phone. The little LED had twinkled the whole afternoon, the color red immediately made him think that he must be out of battery and as he unlocked it he found your message. A smile grew in his lips. After his graduation you both had tried to keep contact. At the time you were still a second year but you got to be acquainted quickly. You had lived near each other, yet, you didn’t attend the same middle school it wasn’t like you an Yaku had talked too much, until you became a first year at Nekoma.

“I don’t know if you’ll see this before training but I wanted to show you this” and then showed a photo of the new samples you had prepared for your bio class. You worked as a teacher on a Junior High School, and had talked him about your plans on using plant samples to teach about the common tissues on them. He smiled at how proudly you had shown him the images from the microscope. He replied to you congratulating on the quality of them. He remembered how fascinating you found the world around and how happy you were on telling others about it. You had always rambled facts about animals, space, plants, the solar systems, name it you probably had a fun fact about it. It was that hunger for knowledge and the love of spreading it was what drawn him to you on first place. You were part of the science club. Professor Murakama, the bio teacher was in charge of your club, and Morisuke hadn’t talked with him outside from classes but Kuroo had insisted on him to help him getting some works they had delivered and he wanted a revision even though he almost got a perfect mark.

“Hello there!” he greeted them. He had lifted his safety glasses. And the small circle of students that surrounded him turned to them. Morisuke didn’t know most of the people there, since most of them were first years, but he waved at you. You returned it. Of course you knew Yaku, he had lived next to your house since forever but you had never actually been close. Kuroo got to the professor and he just stood awkwardly on the door frame as everyone returned to the working tables.

The professor muttered something to himself. As he checked on Kuroo’s worksheet. “Yaku, why don’t you join our experimentation while I go to the teacher’s lounge with Kuroo?” he asked him. “You can use my lab coat and safety glasses while you are at it.”

Morisuke put on the equipment as he reminded everyone to be mindful of the lab rules pasted on a cardboard on the wall behind Yaku. The students divided on partners and you sat on a work table alone.

“What is it (Y/LN)? Why aren’t you working with anybody?” Yaku asked as he sat down next to you.

“We are an odd number of students, so today is my turn to work alone.” He turned to see one of her classmates mouthing to her that he was sorry. “You are free if you only want to watch, since you don’t have rubber gloves.”

That day seemed so long ago, he had watched as she prepared the acidic solution in a beaker and added drops of phenolphthalein before adding a strong base and watched in awe how the liquid started to get a hot pink color.

“Wha- Whe- How?!” he had asked you.

Since then, it was history. He had sometimes went at lunch time to see how were you doing, being a first year was tough. And you sometimes met him at the cafeteria before getting back to your friends. Then he got your number and that’s when the rambling about random science facts became constant. He always had at least one image and a new fact, such as “Hey! Did you knew that elephants are the only species with 4 knees?” He always had a smile at that and he didn’t notice when he started to look at them with fondness until his teammates pointed it out. And then it happened, one day he just didn’t get the random fact of the day as you two had started to call it, by your second year, even he had started to send you those kind of things or whenever he found out about some new exhibit. His friend urged him to already ask you out as he clearly had signs of endorphin rush whenever they mentioned her or Talk saw her. Up to this day he never knew why he didn’t do it, even more when he got so concerned that you didn’t even saw his text, since you always answered quite fast. He walked outside of the VB team staff room and walked to the entrance alone. And he rose his gaze and you were there under a tree, with your head between your arms. He rushed at your side, without knowing what to do, he put his hand on your shoulder.

You shot your head up only to see his face. He looked as your face was tainted with tears.

“Hey, (Y/N),” his voice wavered. “What happened?”

You only cleaned your eyes with the corner pf ypur jumper. And used a napkin to clean your runny nose. “Nothing… I am fine, Morisuke.” You managed a constrained smile, he stood up and offered his hand.

“Come on, let me walk you home.” You took his hand.

That day you were supposed to tell your feelings to your crush. You had been harboring feelings for him since you met him on your first year and today, you (with Yaku’s help) had worked enough courage to tell him. You had crafted a love letter to cite him on your classroom and tell him there after school. He had also helped you (he almost did it all) to bake some small cookies to gift him.

There you stood with your crush in front of you, you had told him. You had done it, this is the moment where he accepts and-

“I like you, as a friend, your intelligence is quiet intimidating and I can’t see you as more than a friend because of it.”

Morisuke had heard your story, as you started to sob again. You were sitting on the sidewalk in front of your house as he took out a napkin and scooted near to you as you kept crying, his left arm grabbed you by the shoulder and he embraced you. Your violent breaths calmed and he let you go. His uniform now had moisted with what you called “nose tears” (“Morisuke! Did you knew that when you cry some of your tears go down on your nose and that’s why you have a runny nose every time you cry?”) but he could wash it later. Right now the only important thing was you.

“Morisuke, you are my friend, right?” He nodded. “is my-“

“No” he had answered right away.

“But you didn’t even let me finish” you pushed him with a playful manner.

“I knew what you where gonna ask and my answer is no.” He searched on the paper bag and handed you a chocolate filled bread. “I know your favorites are caramel ones, but right now you need something to raise your serotonin levels.” You took it and looked at him, you had sent him that fact when you had suggested to make the cookies. “Besides if he feels intimidated by something as petty as that, he doesn’t deserve a the time of day, he doesn’t deserve you.” He grumbled. You had stared at him wide eyed as his face started to get pink and bid you farewell as he slammed his house door. You smiled as you clenched the bread.

And then his graduation came. You had sneaked from cleaning duty thanks to your best friend (“Go get him, (Y/N)!”) He had also been encouraged by his friends this might be the last time he could tell you about his feelings. His family was throwing a small dinner and they had invited you since you had started to spend more and more time with Morisuke. His mom had made Stir-fried vegetables with other dishes. All his family gathered inside as you two talked on the same sidewalk, you both had been sharing some good old laughs.

You still held your stomach with your arms at Yakkun as he rubbed his leg after slapping it while he laughed. He had the sting of tears of laughing and of pain on leg, but he kept going. Until both of you had calmed and the small faint dread of bursting out laughing again came back.

“Ok, now in all seriousness, (Y/N)” he tried to regain his composure and you snorted at him as he bit his lip to suppress another laugh. “I have something to tell you- please breathe… slowly” His gaze was heavy with feigned disdain as he turned around to not laugh at your violent rapid breathing caused by another burst of laughs. You inhaled deeply trying to calm yourself.

“So?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Have I told you the reason why I never accepted the two confessions I ever received?”

You gasped. You had been pestering him, one of your best friends into telling you but nothing had worked. “No! But please do tell me! I can’t believe it is finally happening!” you grinned at his question.

He breathed in slowly, as he started the word vomit, he saw your grin slowly disappear. As your eyes slowly went down. His heart his head started spinning. His face was becoming red, he wanted to turn back and get inside his home like that afternoon all those months ago. His whole being felt as if he had his guts stolen.

“And I didn’t worked up the courage up until now to tell you.” He sighed, for the first time, defeated. “I like you more than a friend, I-”

His eyes went wide when you hugged him by the neck and kept pressing pecks to his cheek. Then that hollowness became a party of elephants dancing on his gut. He finally turned to you, on your face shined the biggest smile you could manage.

“Yakkun, I was supposed to confess to you today, you stole my idea.” If he could have turned an even deeper shade of red he would have, he worked his hands up to your face and kissed your temple and smiled through his embarrassment.

Months passed by fast, as he had made the arrangements to move to Russia and play on the Super League. Lev had been helping him to make the contacts. You were currently on your third year, and whenever you could go home early you helped him studying Russian, you helped him craft flash cards and as you said the word in Japanese he answered always making a different grin. Much tp your laugh. You also helped him on his writing… you both sadly sucked at it. You tried to have non-study-dates-because-you-also-need-to-stop-worrying-about-me-and-school. Yakkun also helped whenever you found problem in a class… which wasn’t really often, but he was glad whenever you asked him for advice. Days after you got your college acceptance letter from college, he left Japan.

Yakkun had fallen asleep remembering the times you had stayed awake studying as he made you company over a video call or he had stayed awake after a particularly rough training just to have a “meal” with you.

His phone buzzed, once, twice, and the third time he picked it up. A pool of drool had formed under his face. He squinted his eyes at bright screen.

“(Y/N)?” he asked with a groan.

“Salutations, Mori!” over the speaker he heard the car engine.

“What is it?” He yawned as he stretched his arms and some of his joints cracked.

“I-” you hesitated before answering. “I found something really cool, I was wondering if you could join me.”

He rubbed his eyes, before turning to see his phone screen.

3:00 AM

He sighed with defeat. “Sure, just let me put a shirt on.”

You drived off, he took the copilot seat and dozed off yet again. You felt guilty of waking him in the middle of the night, but you had been waiting for this the whole week. Earlier you had called Kuroo just make sure the team had a free day before resuming their training. You side eyed him as how he curled on the seat breathing softly. The light of the city were getting behind as you approached your destination. The small lights of the highway and your car illuminated the way.

“Mori, we are here.” You gently shaked him. You were parked on a resting spot. In front it had a small hill covered with grass. The moon cleared the way. Mori had just woken up again and was getting out as you unloaded the trunk. You got some small snacks in a bag and a blanket.

“You woke me up at 3 AM… For this?” he was ired. And his expression showed clear dissatisfaction. “Listen, (Y/N) I know it is- Are you even listening?”

You had turned your face up and a teeth smile crept on your face. You lowered your face and moved your hand up so he could see. A meteor shower painted the sky as he looked up in awe and the it hit him, you had been mentioning this the whole week.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” He looked at you his face had softened as he approached you.

“I’m sorry (Y/N).” he murmured grabbing taking the bag. You turned your head side to side.

“You’ve been working to the bone lately.” You took a step nearer and cupped his face with your free hand. Your eyes locked with his soft gaze as he smiled fondly. His forehead rested on yours and then he pushed his lips to yours, your skin started to get goose bumps as you exhaled , you had been yearning for this.

“Did you know it was worth to get up at this time?”

[wonkasmissstarshine]

The Chocolatier’s Rose {Willy Wonka x OC} Epilogue

GIF not mine. Credit goes to owner.

Summary: It’s ten years later, and the Wonka twins do something special for their father’s birthday.

A/N: Here’s the official end to the series. Thank you for reading and stay tuned for The Chocolate Prince and The Lovely Maiden.

Tagging: @willymywonkers​ @holdmeicant​ @sleepiesapphicxoxo​ @frozenhuntress67​

Ten years later...

Rose Wonka stood in the kitchen, scrubbing the dishes that were dirtied from their breakfast. As she scrubbed, dried, and stacked, she stared out the window, watching the ten-year-old twins, and their music teacher, Eleanor.

When it came time for Rose and Willy to get schooling for their children, they decided to let the twins decide whether they wanted to be homeschooled or attend public school.

The twins seemed to understand the difference between the two and made the decision to be homeschooled. At least until they decided that they did want to attend school with other kids. Luckily, they didn't have to worry about finding teachers because their friends stepped in to teach them.

Fleur and Dulce sat on the swings that hang from the large cotton candy tree. Fleur clutched a doll of her likeness in her hand. Ever since she received it, she never went anywhere without it. The doll (that had been named Lily) was very special to her because it was given to her by her brother. It also happened to have been made by Dulce.

It would seem that the young boy had a knack for making toys, as Lily the Doll wasn't the first one he had ever made.

Rose remembered one particular day when she was cleaning Fleur and Dulce's room.

******

The twins were usually pretty good about keeping their room tidy. But, there were odd days, like today, when their room was only a little bit messy. Like today. Fleur and Dulce were currently in a math lesson with Danny so Rose decided to clean up their room.

While she was cleaning, she had found two toys that she had never seen before. They were both yo-yos. One of them was baby pink with a floral pattern decorating the round edge and a golden 'F' right in the center. The other yo-yo was a sky blue color. There was a much simpler pattern outlining the round edge of the toy but it was still a pretty pattern, nonetheless. This yo-yo had a silver 'D' in the middle.

Rose decided to pay a visit to the classroom that the twins learned in for more serious subjects such as math, science, geography, and reading comprehension. The more fun subjects, such as music, arts and crafts, and physical education were taught within the Garden Room.

Rose stood in the doorway of the classroom, watching as Danny was going over multiplication tables with the twins. Rose let them finish going over five times five before she decided to knock on the door. Danny looked her way and smiled.

"Fleur, Dulce, look who's here!" Danny said.

The twins turned in their seats to see if Uncle Danny was either talking about mommy or daddy. Their faces lit up when they saw Rose, and they both leaped out of their seats to go and hug her.

"Mommy!" Fleur said excitedly.

"What are you doing here, mommy?" Dulce asked. Not that he minded that his mom was here of course.

"There's nothing wrong with mommy wanting to see her little angels," Rose said. She leaned down to give them both a kiss on the head. Then she looked at Danny. "How are the multiplication tables going?"

"I think they're getting the hang of it," Danny said proudly. "Dulce is getting it right off the bat. Fleur is having a little trouble, but luckily she's got her brother to help her"

"I'll get it on my own eventually," Fleur said, sounding almost disappointed with herself. "Sorry I'm not too good at math, mommy"

"Oh, jellybean," Rose cooed. "It's okay. I was never the best at math either. You just need to keep practicing and eventually, you'll get better"

Fleur's disappointed frown turned into a bright smile. "Thanks, mommy!"

"But there was something I found that I wanted to ask you two about" Rose reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the two yo-yos. "I don't remember your daddy or me, or any of your grandparents, or any of your aunts or uncles, getting you these yo-yos"

Dulce's eyes lit up. "That's because I made them, mommy" He confessed proudly.

Rose's eyes widened. "You made these?"

"Yeah. In arts and crafts with Auntie Lucy"

Rose smiled, feeling incredibly proud of her son. "When did you learn to make them?"

Dulce shrugged. "I don't know. I just knew how to make them" He smiled up at his mom. "I think when I'm a grown-up I want to make toys. Like Santa!"

"I think you'd make a lot of kids happy, gumdrop" Rose smiled at Dulce. She looked at Fleur. "And what about you, jellybean? What do you want to do when you're a grown-up?"

Fleur didn't even need to think about her answer. "I want to make candy just like daddy does!"

Rose giggled. "I think daddy will be very happy to hear that"

******

Rose couldn't help but smile at the memory. She loved that her kids already knew what they wanted to do when they grew up.

Fleur had decided that she would follow in her father's footsteps and become a chocolatier. That little girl loved helping out the Oompa-Loompas whenever she got the chance to. She already knew everything about how all the candy was made. She knew every fun fact that you could know about chocolate and candy. Charlie had seen his niece's passion and decided that when it was time, the factory would be passed down to her when she was old enough.

Then Dulce had his dream of being a toymaker when he was older. That boy could turn any little trinket or scrap he found into some kind of toy. Mr. Bucket was always trying to find things that his grandson could use. It was becoming a common occurrence that Rose and Willy would find him making something. There was no doubt that one day, he would open up his own shop, selling all the toys he's ever made. Then one day, he'll open up the biggest toy factory in the world.

Or perhaps he'll move to the North Pole and work with Santa Claus like Dulce is always saying he'll do when he's old enough.

But don't worry mommy and daddy, I'll use the sleigh to come to visit you guys every week!

The oven dinged, indicating that the cookies she had in the oven were done. She put on her oven mitts and then opened the oven. The hot air hit her face like a wave crashing onto the shore of a sandy beach. She took the cookies out and set them on the cooling rack. Then, she grabbed a couple of glasses and poured some milk into them. Once the cookies were cool enough, she set the baked goods and the milk onto a tray and brought them outside.

"Jellybean! Gumdrop!" Rose called to her children. "Milk and cookies!"

Fleur and Dulce's face lit up. They grabbed hands and ran to their mom. The both of them patiently waited until their mom said that they could take their treats. And once they did, they made sure to thank her.

"How is practice going?" Rose asked her children. "Are you two ready for tonight?"

Dulce swallowed his mouthful of cookie before answering his mom. "Auntie Eleanor says we're really talented!"

Fleur nodded in agreement. "Yeah. She says we're going to rock daddy's socks off tonight!"

Rose giggled and then looked to her friend. "And how are you feeling about tonight, Ellie?"

"Well, Felix definitely can't wait to see my performance tonight," Eleanor said about her husband. She rolled her eyes but kept her grin. "Honestly, I feel a bit silly singing it, but Fleur and Dulce like singing it and they make it worth it"

"Well, Willy is going to love it, for sure," Rose said, smiling over at her children. "He's so proud of them, and he just loves them to bits"

An Oompa-Loompa had walked up to Rose. He was carrying a stack of colorful clothes in his arms. He gently tugged on Rose's skirt to let her know of his presence. Rose looked down at the Oompa-Loompa and smiled at him. The Oompa-Loompa returned the smile. He held out the clothes for Rose to take.

"Ah! These are the clothes for tonight, yes?" Rose asked. The Oompa-Loompa nodded. Rose took the clothes. "Thank you so much!" She bowed to the Oompa-Loompa, and the Oompa-Loompa bowed in return. Before he left though, the Oompa-Loompa made sure to greet the children.

"Mommy, are those our costumes for tonight?" Fleur asked curiously.

"They sure are. Auntie Lucy made them" Rose said.

"Can we go put them on now?" Dulce asked, not being able to contain his excitement.

"If you're done with your snacks then yes" Rose permitted. She gave Fleur her costume and then gave Dulce his. "Just make sure not to get them dirty"

"We won't!" The twins spoke in unison. "We promise!" They left to go get changed, but not without receiving kisses on their cheeks from Rose.

Rose grinned at Eleanor and handed her costume to her. Eleanor held out the dress in front of her, giving it a once over. "Wherever did you come up with this, Ro?" Eleanor asked.

"It's what the puppets wore" Rose answered.

Eleanor blinked. Had she heard that right? "Puppets? What puppets?"

Rose giggled, remembering that day almost ten years ago. "It was the day of the tour. For his grand entrance, Willy had these puppets singing a song about how great he is. It was quite a wonderful show. That is until the pyrotechnics got out of hand and melted all those poor puppets"

Eleanor just stared. Honestly, when Rose handed her those lyrics, she was sure that Rose had written it because of how much she loved Willy and thought the world of him. But, she supposed with an entrance like that, you'd never forget it. "There aren't going to be any pyrotechnics, are there?" That was all she asked.

"No, of course not" Rose quickly said. She pulled something out of her pocket. "Confetti poppers"

******

Everyone gathered in the ballroom for the twin's grand performance. The reason they were singing tonight was that it was their father's birthday today. And because their dad was always making their birthday special, they wanted to make his birthday special.

When the twins told Rose what they wanted to do, the first thing that came to her mind was them singing the welcome song from that day of the tour. She was even gonna have them wearing the clothes the puppets did, but of course, she was gonna leave out the fireworks. She didn't want her children to get barbequed.

Rose made sure that everyone was comfortable in their seats, especially her grandparents (yes, they were still alive and more lively than ever). Then she had to make sure all the children were comfortable.

Since the birth of their own children, Rose and Willy's friends had gone on to marry each other and have children of their own. It started when Lucy and Harry welcomed their daughter about a year after they married. Then, it was Eleanor and Felix who married and welcomed a son. Priscilla and Danny ended up together, also welcoming a son. And now, in about nine months, Rose and Willy would become an aunt and uncle.

Charlie and Jenny married each other a little over three months ago. And just recently, Jenny found out she was pregnant. Rose was the first one she told, feeling scared by the news. But Rose assured her sister-in-law that everything was going to be okay and that Charlie would no doubt be overjoyed.

Long story short, he was.

Once everyone was seated, Rose got up onto the stage and addressed everyone. "Welcome, our wonderful family! I'd like to thank you all for coming to this wonderful celebration for my even more wonderful husband's birthday!" Rose scanned the crowd until she caught Willy's eyes. The two of them smiled at each other. "For the first time, you will be witnessing the musical talents of our daughter, Fleur Wonka, and our son, Dulce Wonka. Tonight, they will be joined by their music teacher, Eleanor Hunter" Felix smiled with pride when he heard his wife's name. "Now, please put your hands together for Fleur, Dulce, and Eleanor!"

Everyone started applauding as the red velvet curtain providing as a backdrop for Rose opened. She stepped out of view and out stepped Eleanor with Fleur and Dulce on either side of her. Eleanor was wearing a dress with a candy design on it, and Fleur was wearing one with a flowery design on it. They both wore matching pink shoes and white aprons with a pink W on the front. Their hair was done up in matching pigtails.

Dulce on the other hand wore a white dress shirt with matching white pants. He wore a polka dot vest and a polka dot bowtie. He also wore an apron with a pink W on it, and a white hat with a pink W on top of his slicked-back hair. Finally, he wore a pair of black dress shoes.

Behind them, was a backdrop constructed similarly to the one that the puppets had used for their performance. Behind the backdrop, was another red curtain.

Willy's eyes lit up and his smile grew wide. He knew why this scene looked so familiar! He had his puppets sing to his guests on the day of the tour, and now his children were about to sing for him. Oh dear, he just hoped that the pyrotechnics were left out.

The music started up. The children and their music teacher being to sing in perfect harmony, and dance in perfect coordination.

Willy Wonka, Rosie Wonka

The Amazing Chocolatiers

Wait, hang on. Did they just sing Rosie Wonka? Eleanor managed to catch Rose's eyes and she threw her a wink. Rose grinned, confirming her suspicion. Eleanor had changed it to include Rose's name in the song.

Willy Wonka, Rosie Wonka

Everybody give a cheer!

They're modest, clever, and so smart,

They barely can restrain it.

With so much generosity,

There is no way to contain it

To contain it, to contain, to contain, to contain.

When it came to the musical break, Rose quickly rushed into the audience so she could grab her husband. Willy was confused at first but trusted his wife as she pulled him up on the stage. They waited behind the other curtain which concealed not just one, but two red velvet chairs. Willy sat in one, and Rose sat in the other. The two of them joined hands.

Willy Wonka, Rosie Wonka

They're the ones that you're about to meet.

Willy Wonka, Rosie Wonka

They're geniuses who can't be beat.

The magicians and chocolate 'wizes

The best darn pair who ever lived

Willy and Rosie Wonka here they are!

The curtains pulled back to reveal the couple. Once the music came to a complete stop, that's when Eleanor, Fleur, and Dulce pulled their confetti poppers. The colorful paper went flying everywhere. Everyone stood up from their seats, hollering and clapping. But no one was cheering as loud as Willy was.

"That was magnificent!" Willy cheered. He turned to Rose, took her face and his hands, and gave her a great big kiss. "That was truly wonderful!"

Rose smiled at him. "You sure it wasn't dodgy in the middle part?"

"No, no! Every part of the was wonderful! And that finale? Wow!" Rose couldn't help but smile as she thought back to the first day she met him. "I like this version more because it includes you! Did you do this for me, starshine?"

"It wasn't my idea," Rose said, shaking her head.

"Daddy! Daddy!" The twins called out to their father.

"Mommy says this wasn't her idea," Willy said. "Was it yours?"

"Yes, daddy" Fleur nodded her head.

"We hope you liked it!" Dulce said. "We just wanted to have a special birthday"

"Because you're always giving us a special birthday" Fleur finished.

"Oh, my precious jellybean and gumdrop" Willy cooed lovingly to his children. He pulled them both into a hug. "I loved it so much! And it gives me such a wonderful idea"

"What is it, cocoa bean?" Rose asked, curious as to what her husband's idea was.

"I've been thinking a lot about it, but I think I'm ready to open the factory to the public again. Start giving regular tours"

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, starshine. I am" Willy nodded. He looked at the twins and smiled. "And I think before every tour, you two should sing that to the guests"

Fleur and Dulce started jumping with joy at the idea. "Do you really mean it, daddy?" Dulce asked.

"I sure do!"

"We won't let you down, daddy" Fleur vowed. "We promise!"

"Nothing you two do could ever let me down," Willy said. "I am proud of everything that you do" He looked at Fleur. "And I know that you're going to be an amazing chocolatier, jellybean" Then, he looked at Dulce. "And you're going to be a wonderful toymaker, gumdrop. You're going to make every child in the world happy with your toys"

The twins smiled like they always do when they hear how proud their mommy and daddy are of them. They brought their parents into a big hug and spoke in unison. "We love you, mommy! We love you, daddy!"

Rose and Willy looked at each other, smiling and saying at the same time. "We love you, too"

[greenninjagal-blog]

Idle Threats

Wow, this was not supposed to be this long, but hopefully it makes up for all the not writing I’ve done for the past month :)

Word Count: 8041

Pairings: Platonic Deceit and Logan. (With background LAMP)

Summary: No one has ever stood up for Dee so he decides to do it himself, in front of the class, in front of the brand new substitute teacher. And he almost regrets it. 

Quick Taglist: @felicianoromano @jemthebookworm @holliberries @stricken-with-clairvoyancy 

Read on AO3 || Master List 

Dante Ethan Ekans hates every single teacher in his school. Three years into his high school career and he had come across every single teacher—every single one of them—and he hated them all. He had sat through every lecture, done every assignment, battled in every single class discussion. He had done everything the school system had asked him to do.

And he is still staring at a low D average in all his classes.

It should have been impossible: the grading system was set up so that as long as students just showed up they were receiving a C grade.

And well, Dante had always been proving the impossible, possible. He had survived his own birth, survived the car crash that killed his father, and survived the worst of his mother’s psychotic tantrums. He had dragged himself to school with bruises on his wrists and broken fingers wrapped messily in old bandages that made his handwriting into an atrocious disgrace just so that he could at least get an education, get a chance at a scholarship, get a chance to leave town.

And he is in his third year of high school, the year most colleges start to look at prospective students, and he is getting a low D average and he couldn’t do a single thing about it.

It’s like the entire teaching staff had unanimously decided “hey, you know that kid whose face is all messed up with the burn marks from the car crash at age six? Let’s just ruin his entire life by grading him unnecessarily harder than everyone else in the school, turning a blind eye to when the other students mess with him, and loudly announcing how he needs to do better on his essays if he wants to get better grades in front of the whole class.”

Dante—and fuck if he hated that name. No one was called Dante anymore—had done everything he could to get his grades up. He studied twice as hard and twice as long as everyone else. He had swallowed his pride and asked the teachers for help (and been told to pay more attention in class) and for extra credit (and been denied). He had tried to argue grades and been sent to the Detention room for vulgar language and an attempted assault on a teacher (which was a blatant lie).

Not to mention that one asshole of a teacher, Mr. Walker, who had told him that not only was make up for females, but his use of cosmetics was an unacceptable cry for attention. Dante then had to stand there in front of the class with his cheeks burning red and his peers snickering as he told the teacher that he wasn’t wearing any make up, and that the burns on his face were the real deal, and that he couldn’t wash it off even if he wanted to.

So Dante Ethan Ekans—Dee for short; Dee was what his friends would call him, if he had any—has no hard feelings when he heard that Mr. Walker had been in a bad car accident and would not be back for the rest of the school year. What a complete shame that would be. How would they ever move on?

Apparently, there’s a substitute coming, one of those long-term ones that only ever dropped by for times of emergency. Dee had overheard the head of nutrition (a sweet, mother-like man that all the lunch ladies adore named Patton Hart) and school resource officer (who Dee doesn’t know the name of and kept far enough away from. He doesn’t need to be any closer to any law enforcers than he already was) talking about the teacher: about how strict he was, about how the kids had no clue what was coming, about how Mr. Hart should redesign the menu with the majority of the student’s favorites because this week was going to be rough with a capital R. They both had laughed after that, and Patton had caught sight of Dee and asked him if he needed anything in the kindest tone Dee had ever heard.

(He had run after that, had run as fast as he could without making it seem like he was running away. The last thing he needs is anymore people to look at him with pity, with cruelty, with smug better-than-you expressions that appeared the second Dee dared act vulnerable. The last thing he needs is to open his mouth and tell the truth.)

Dee isn’t expecting anything amazing to come out of the substitute teacher. He expects it to be another beanpole old lady who snaps anytime someone made a noise and confiscates phones on whim and assigns them all worksheets that were to be done and handed in by the end of the class period, no exceptions.

He’s usually one of the first into the science room because the class he has before it is Math which just down the hall, but he’s barely out of the room when Mrs. Johnston’s shrill voice slices through the student chatter.

“Ekans!” She screeches, “Ekans! A moment!”

It’s not a moment. It’s never just a moment with her. The bell rings and the halls empty and Dee stands in front of the math teacher for another three minutes listening to her tell him that he’s been doing his math the wrong way and if he doesn’t start doing it the way she taught in class she’s going to have to dock him more points (like there’s more to dock him in the first place), regardless of the fact he doesn’t understand the way she’s been teaching and his way is actually based on how a college professor explained it on the YouTube series he looked up for help.

He can see into her classroom, the one that’s filled with obnoxious freshman who are lounging around while they wait for their teacher to be done berating Dee. He can see the way they all point and snicker and make fun of the half of his face he can’t do anything about.

“And now you’ve made me waste time for my next class, Mr. Ekans.” Mrs. Johnston says, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry,” Dee says robotically, and his hands tighten around the strap of his backpack. “It won’t happen again, Ma’am.”

But it’s a lie, because it always happens again.

But it’s a lie, because he’s not really sorry at all.

Because she might have missed the first few minutes of class, but she controlled the rate the students learned. Dee felt his own nails tear into his palm as he opened the door to the classroom where the new substitute was-- the one who’s voice was already droning on about what they were learning, already through the roll call, already letting the whole class know he was not going to tolerate any monkey business at all.

Dee glances at the teacher, who in turn does not break his lecture, but nods to him and to one of the several empty desks in the room. He’s young, nerdy looking, but Dee can’t think of anyone he knows who would have the guts to say it to the man’s face. He had a cold look about him, like he didn’t know how to smile and wasn’t in the mood to learn.

Dee throws himself into the closest empty chair, keeping his head down and tries not to make too much noise when he picks through his backpack for his notebook for the science class.

He’s so focused on not disrupting the teacher, not causing anymore eyes to fall on him, not helping the already terrible opinion the man has of him, that he wasn’t even paying attention to who he was sitting next to until it’s far too late to change seats.

And he finds out when sees another body drape over the desk to his left out of the corner of his eye and Dee freezes on the spot. He’s not hearing a single thing the new teacher says, not hearing whatever he’s mentioning about the quick technical drawing he has on the board, and definitely not hearing the notes he should be taking down. His tongue grates against his teeth as Kyle slides his chair an inch his direction with a weasel-ish expression on his face.

“Hey, Ekans,” Kyle murmurs just loud enough for Dee to hear.

Dee refuses to look at him, but it’s not like he’s seeing anything in front of him either. His fingers squeeze his pencil, and the soles of his feet rest firmly on the ground, like it can keep him from moving at all.

“Ekans,” Kyle says again louder, but not enough to stop the teacher. “The boys and I took some notes for you.”

They aren’t notes. Dee can see the header so neatly written on the top of the paper, so innocently telling him it’s a list of reasons no one likes him and what to do about it (and worse). It’s not original, its not new, and Dee stubbornly refuses to give him the satisfaction of taking it.

Dee can hear the rest of his friends, the idiots, the dicks, and those two girls who never had anything nice to say, snickering behind them and further left. He can see a motion that looks like one of them nudging each other, and he feels the familiar kick of someone’s foot against his chair.

He wants to say he’s used to it.

He doesn’t think lying to himself is healthy.

Lying to everyone else? Yeah, sure, he’s been doing that since middle school. He’s drowned in his fake apologies for things that weren’t his fault and his torn himself apart to appease people who need to feel like they’re better than others just to keep his own mind sane.

Honestly, he���s a little sick of it—all of it. He didn’t ask for his face to be the discolored mess that it was, didn’t ask for his mother to sometimes lose her mind, didn’t ask for everyone around him to be assholes. He remembers, vaguely, the doctor who had treated his burns (one of them?). At six years old, he can’t even put a face or a name to the form, but he can still hear the voice in the back of his mind telling him he’s lucky, so very lucky.

He could have lost an eye. His arm. His life.

Dee hasn’t felt lucky since then.

The foot kicks his chair again, Dee jerks. Someone laughs. The teacher says something about a test with a pointed clip to his tone. They settle down long enough that the teacher turns away and rambles on about the schedule he’s going to keep them on, blah, blah, blah.

Kyle leans over again. “Ekans—”

“Shut up,” Dee hisses. He regrets it a second later. Because there was a metaphorical door there and Dee had just flung it open and allowed Kyle to walk on in.

“Damn Ekans,” Kyle snickers, “You don’t have to be such a little bitch about it. Does your brother know your such a little bitch?”

Dee’s hand tightens on his pencil.

“Maybe we should tell him,” Kyle muses.  Dee doesn’t have to look to know the expression on the other’s face. “He goes to Mind Elementary, right? Just down the road?”

Dee counts backwards from Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven.

“It would be super easy just to sit down and have a chat with him. I wonder if he knows how big of a freak his brother is? I bet he’s too stupid to—”

Dee does not make it to six.

“If you so much as look at my brother, I’ll put you in the goddamn hospital,” Dee says.

The room seems to breathe for a second. Dee glares at Kyle and his stupidly pleased weasel face and beady green eyes that look like forest moss eating the carcass of some animal. The room seems to breathe for a second and Dee realizes with a fiery anger it was because no one was speaking.

The teacher had stopped. Which meant that everyone’s attention is on him.

“Mr. Ekans,” The substitute says a hand reaching up to adjust his glasses, and Dee flinches. “Is there something you would like to add to my lecture?”

It wasn’t even fifteen minutes into the class, and the man already knew his name. Kyle grins sharply, smugly. Two of his friends do an underhand five in the seats behind them. Dee thinks he hates everyone in the room at that very moment.

“No,” Dee says, through gritted teeth, “sir.”

The teacher hums. “Interesting, could that be because Mr. Phillips was providing an ample distraction in the middle of my class time?”

That was the moment that Dee realizes he had gone to school with Kyle for three years and had never heard his last name before.

After all, Kyle was every teacher’s favorite. If they didn’t know him from his numerous club activities (drama, art, debate, every honor club you could think of), he often brought them presents on the first day of class and was invited over for dinner every Saturday evening within the first week of class. No one addressed him by his last name.

The substitute teacher didn’t look pleased to be the first. Neither did Kyle.

And frankly, neither did Dee. (Because it wasn’t like it would last. It wasn’t like by tomorrow all of Kyle’s misdeeds would be forgotten and this teacher--this temporary teacher--wouldn’t be wrapped around Kyle’s finger like all the others.) Dee’s stomach clenched at the thought, a bit of envy, jealousy, anger clawing up his throat and making the burns from so long ago itch.

“Well?” The teacher says—and no, Dee checked, he had not written his name on the board. “Mr. Phillips?”

“I was just offering him the notes.” Kyle says, “He came in late. I was trying to be a help and he threatened me!” He looks at his friends who all nod earnestly like Kyle isn’t lying through the skin of his teeth.

“Curious how I do not believe that,” The teacher counters. “This is my classroom, Mr. Phillips. If I thought Mr. Ekans needed notes, I would have provided them to him. Additionally, your actions have caused more harm than good as I am now wasting more of this class’s time, and seeing how this is the last class of the day, I only have your attentions for approximately an hour and fifteen minutes.” He stops for a moment, his eyes darting between Dee and Kyle in a way that Dee does not like.

“Perhaps this is for the best.” He says suddenly, “It would do well to get this out of the way now. Both of you, up here.”

Dee freezes.

Kyle hisses under his breath and heaves himself out of the chair with false gusto. He makes a gesture to his friends that carries a round of giggling up to the front of the room.

“Mr. Ekans,” The teacher says. “That means you, too.”

In no way shape or form is Dee at fault here. He knows he’s not. Kyle and his friends have been picking on him for years and getting away with it and leaving charcoal rocks in Dee’s stomach from every encounter. Standing up feels a lot like striking a match and the entire trek up to the front of the room feels like lowering it to the rocks.

Dee’s face is already burning by the time he side by side with Kyle again. He stares stiffly at the whiteboard, glaring at a smudge of black marker from the last class.

“I am not your normal teacher,” The substitute says. “A lot of the things that were condoned in his class will not be in mine. You will not talk when I talk. You will not be on your phones unless I tell you to. You will not pass notes. You will not make idle threats—”

Dee isn’t sure what comes over him, but that charcoal fire in his stomach explodes outward and engulfs his entire body. For a split second everything turns red, every noise of all the twenty-two other students in the class fades to nothingness, and Dee turns sharply to the side.

Maybe its because Dee had a little bit of hope buries somewhere deep in his mind. Maybe its because he knew that teachers weren’t supposed to pick sides or hold prejudices. Maybe its because Dee spent a whole ten years being “lucky” enough that he survived everything thrown his way just to let another teacher turn a blind eye to the students’ interactions.

Maybe its because Dee was just so very tired of the smug look on Kyle’s face.

His fist connects before anyone realizes he even moved. Kyle yells, and he goes crashing to the floor. Dee’s knuckles pulsate with pain, and he pretty sure he tore the skin off on when it scraped Kyles stupid teeth. Several kids scream.

Dee looks back at the teacher, meeting his somewhat surprised gaze with his own angry one.

“There,” Dee spits, “It’s not an “idle” threat anymore.”

So he finds himself sitting in the front office hands jammed in his pockets and shoulders up to his ears. Part of him wonders if he can fold into himself until nothing exists. The secretary running the phone and letting parents in to pick up their kids, keeps side eyeing him, as if he’s a circus attraction she can’t quite believe is real.

Dee’s head is still ringing with the teachers voice telling him to take the quickly scribbled note and go to the Vice Principal’s office, but the edges of his adrenaline and his anger keep him from feeling the paper cut and the bruising on his knuckles that surely was coming.

He tries to convince himself he’s sorry for doing it, but if Vice Principal Joan tells him to apologize to Kyle in person Dee might have to take a short walk off the roof.

It had felt…good. It had felt great. It had felt a lot like a mistake too.

There was no way he was getting out of this one, no empty promises to do better could make up for assaulting another student. Not to mention that substitute teacher most definitely hated him now, and rightfully was about to join ranks with ever other teacher in the school.

VP Joan was going to suspend him, and then they’ll call Dee’s mother, and then Dee was never going to get into college, and he was never going to leave this town, and he was never going to overcome the scarring on his face that he had been so damn lucky to survive in the first place.

“Dante Ekans,” A voice calls from the hall of offices where all the staff had desks. Dee only recognizes VP Joan because of their face in the school newsletter and sometimes on the papers. They did a lot of fundraisers like kissing a pig if the students raised “X” amount of money, or one dollar to buy a strip of duct tape to tape them to the wall.

Dee goes with them into their office. It feels cluttered, but there is enough space for Dee to sit down and VP Joan to look stressed. Papers, mugs, several action figures Dee vaguely recognizes rest on the desk. There were awards on the walls and teaching certificates along with superhero posters Dee thinks probably aren’t the most professional until he sees it was signed by the cast of the movies.

“So,” The VP says, “Want to tell me what happened?”

The answer is no, Dee does not want to tell them what happened. Because even when Dee tells the truth, even when he lays down his words barren in front of the judges, even when he cries or yells or shows any validating emotion, his scarred face makes him appear less trustworthy. It happened before where Kyle said what he wanted and the teachers decided that must have been what happened and that Dee had lied and made everything up in yet another desperate cry for attention.

So, no, Dee doesn’t want to tell the VP what happened, because he’s so sick of being turned into the bad guy when he’s not. (Okay maybe punching the guy was a bad example here. Maybe Dee just wants to keep himself from digging a bigger grave with this one).

Dee stares at the wood grain in the VP’s desk and lets the silence hold out. It’s comforting in a way.

VP Joan taps their fingers on their side of the desk. If Dee shifts a little he can see the little blue unfolded note that the teacher had sent him with, and although he doesn’t know what it says, Dee knows it probably bad.

Like “Student Ekans interrupted class with a threat against unarmed peer and then acted upon said threat. Suggested course of action is immediate expulsion” bad. Or something worse.

“Mr. Ekans,” VP Joan says, followed by a sigh, “Fuck this shit.”

Dee blinks at the sudden language—language he’s pretty sure is not allowed in the school. Most of his teachers get after him for that (especially the ones who can’t get him with anything else. His last English teacher was a fan of cutting him off mid book discussion whenever he used a swear, until Dee just began to hold his tongue completely.)

“Look, I don’t know what you did that Logan needed you out of the classroom.” VP Joan says, “And I don’t really have any work that a student can do, uh, legally. Why don’t you go see if Patton—uh Mr. Hart to you—needs any help.”

Dee stills, “What?”

VP Joan holds up the blue paper, and the black scrawl that reads “Please entertain Mr. Ekans for the rest of the block” makes Dee’s eyes cross slightly.

“I’m not…in trouble?” Dee says. It sounds like a dream, like saying the words out loud will make the reality crack and fall apart.

“Should you be?” VP Joan asks, “Don’t answer that. Dr. Ackroyd and I go way back, but I’m still surprised he agreed to fill in here for the rest of the year. We need a competent science teacher, so I’ll turn my head to whatever complex puzzle he’s solving.”

Dee doesn’t understand what that means. He really doesn’t care either.

“Don’t forget your bag,” VP Joan says as they usher Dee out of the office and towards the cafeteria where Patton Hart might be found. “I’m sure I’ll see more of you, Mr. Ekans, but until then have a good day.”

It’s ridiculous, Dee thinks, like its part of a dream. Maybe it is? Maybe Dee punched Kyle and Kyle hit him back and he hit his head on the white board marker tray and now he’s hallucinating.

But he doesn’t think hallucinations were this real: he can hear the sound of each teacher teaching, laughter from some of the rooms, and the muttered conversation between two teachers who have a free period this block and don’t spare him a glance. He can hear the sound of the tape ripping as a couple of students hang posters on the walls for Cheerleading tryouts, can feel the sturdiness of the tile floor under his feet as he tries to catch the reflection of the artificial lights on the polish, can smell the lemon cleaner from the trolley outside the bathrooms that signifies they’re being cleaned at the moment.

He finds Patton Hart sitting at the only table left set up in the cafeteria. He’s laughing leaning forward with a bottle of Windex and a rag at his elbows, but it looks like he’s already cleaned everything that needs to be cleaned. Standing next to him is the resource officer, and Dee still doesn’t know the man’s name. It wasn’t like they talked very often. Still, the man looks smug and happy, and absolutely thrilled that he managed to get a laugh from the nutritionist.

Dee slows his pace, a half step for every real step he could be taking when he realizes that he doesn’t have a clue what he’s supposed to say. At best? Mr. Hart would set him up with some busy work to do, like cleaning lunch trays maybe (where there any of those left?). At worse? He’d demand to know why Dee wasn’t in class, and then drag him to said class and Dee would get to be the middle of a commotion all over again. Perhaps it would be better if he ran for the bathrooms and hid there until the end of the day. Then he’d sneak out with the rest of the students, avoid Kyle, pick up his brother, and make it all the way home before anyone stopped him.

His shoe scuffed the ground when he goes to turn around. His heart jumps to his throat, when both the staff members pause to look at him.

“Hey, kiddo!” Mr. Hart says, “You need something?”

The Resource Officer shifts to put his hands on his belt. Dee tries not to watch too intensely. His mouth dries up again, and he tries figure out what combination of English words isn’t going to ruin this chance to walk free of consequences. He hates that he remembers a time when he wasn’t afraid to talk to people, hates that he has to swallow the lump in his throat and fight the urge to stare at his shoes while his fingers tear at his bag’s straps.

“VP Joan,” Dee says finally, “sent me to you.”

“Me?” Mr. Hart blinks, pointing to himself. “Hmm, that’s not normal. Did they say why?”

Answering the question is a straight forward thing: VP Joan said that he had nothing for Dee to do, so he sent him to Mr. Hart. But Dee also knows that will lead the conversation to why he was sent to VP Joan in the first place and he really doesn’t want to tell anyone else how he managed to dodge the repercussions of decking another kid by some type of miracle and have that change.

The silence holds on a second, two, three, too long. Dee’s head drops to stare at his scuffed up converse (an ugly yellow pair that he had stolen from a GoodWill bin in the outer parking lot of a shopping complex late one night two years ago, which he had worn until they were a dusted brown).

“Kiddo?” Mr. Hart asks

The Resource Officer shifts again, “Wait, I know you!” He raises a hand casually turning back to Mr. Hart, and hopefully missing the way Dee’s shoulders tense. “He’s got Walker for last block.”

Mr. Hart claps his hands and turns back to Dee. His eyes sparkle behind his black framed glasses. “Oh, that means you were in Logan’s class! That’s amazing! He’s a great teacher!”

“Hardly!” The Resource Officer scoffs. “Logan probably scared them all out of their minds! He’s the worst!”

“Roman!” Mr. Hart hits him on the arm, “You take that back! Logan is the sweetest teacher this school is ever going to see!”

“Of course, you’d say that, Pat!” The Resource Officer- Roman?- says, “You never had to be tutored by him!” For a man who could probably bench press three “Logan’s”, Dee thought it was a little weird how he shuddered unpleasantly. Although that was not as weird as trying to make sense of what the two adults were talking about.

Honestly he wasn’t sure they were talking about the same person at all: The teacher-- Logan, Dr. Ackroyd (that’s was VP Joan had said right?)-- was stern and stiff and, sure, a little scary, but then again Dee didn’t exactly have stellar experiences with any other adult either. Still he couldn’t see what about him was “the sweetest teacher in this school”.

And the fact that Dee had been in his class for about ten minutes before he was sent right back out. He still wasn’t convinced the teacher wasn’t planning some big, huge, insurmountable class project to give to Dee as a punishment for punching such a nice kid like Kyle.

Mr. Hart stood up from his seat looking directly at Dee, “Come sit down, kiddo! Are you hungry? There’s some left ice cream sandwiches from lunch this week that I’m going to need to throw out before the weekend.”

Dee very much doesn’t know what to do. He’s not sure he nods, but Mr. Hart disappears into the cafeteria kitchen anyway so that Dee and the Resource Officer are left alone. Dee’s fingers ache whenever he moves them, so he takes extra special care to use his non-dominant hand to shrug off his backpack. The burn scars on his forearm and on his shoulder blade work in tandem to make him as uncomfortable as possible.

When he looks up, Resource Officer Roman is staring at him. His brain whirls with something to say, something defensive that will get the adult to keep his comments to himself, and please, please, don’t ask about them. But everything that comes to mind is nasty and ugly and he can’t say it to someone with a taser on their belt.

For a room that could fit upwards three hundred students for lunch, Dee feels trapped and claustrophobic.

“So,” The adult says, “What’s your name?”

“Ekans,” Dee says immediately. He stares down at the table.

“That’s…that’s a terrible name, kid.” The Resource Officer says. “Did your parents pick that one out or--?”

“Dante Ekans,” Dee says sharply, and squeezes his aching fingers tightly because the pressure overrides the pain even if its just for a second.

“Ah! Dante! Like the Poet! Writer of The Divine Comedy!”

Dee sinks lower in his seat, “Yep.” The centuries old text of a guy traveling through hell and purgatory and idolizing a guy that had been dead even longer than him. Like he hadn’t heard that one before. It was just another reason to hate his name.

Mr. Hart chooses that moment to come back, bouncing on the balls of his feet, sliding on the freshly polished floor, and those curls of his dancing. Resource Officer Roman immediately forgets all about Dee and Dante’s Inferno and all those things that adults like to think when they saw him. It’s a relief.

Kinda.

Mr. Hart sits down right next to Dee, ignoring his previous seat completely. Dee’s shoulders bunch up to his ears, he’s sure, and the way his mouth dries out is far from expected. But the man just hands him an ice cream sandwich that the cafeteria sold for a dollar during lunch shifts, and Dee takes it.

(He’s had one before, like once. For his birthday last year where he borrowed a single dollar from his mother’s and bought himself one birthday gift. It had been sticky and too sweet and the chocolate had clung to his fingers and he had thrown half of it out, but Dee had loved it. His mother had screamed when she found the money missing, screamed and tore his hair and Dee hadn’t said a word.)

Dee takes his time unwrapping the treat, part of him upset that if Mr. Hart knew why Dee was there, he wouldn’t be giving him a free ice cream sandwich, part of him wishing desperately he could save it and share it with his brother, part of him wanting to shove the entire thing in his mouth because he deserved it for having put up with this stupid shit for ten years.

“What nothing for me?” Resource Officer Roman asks petulantly.

Mr. Hart smiles at him innocently. “Oh, I have something else for you Ro! It’s just gonna have to wait until after work!”

“Oh yeah?” The Officer smiles, leaning in closer, “And why is that, my dear Pat?”

“Because you can’t eat and work, silly!” Mr. Hart laughs, “What if there’s an emergency? You’d show up all covered in ice cream…!”

Dee takes a large bite of the ice cream sandwich and silently presses “f” to pay respects for the resource officer. The obvious flirting seemed to have absolutely no effect on the man between them, and Dee wasn’t sure if it was the innocent nature of him or if he was trying to let the officer down nicely.

“Ah, my dear Pat,” The Officer says, “Always looking out for me. What would I do without you? Die, surely!”

Mr. Hart laughs, the freckles on his cheeks glow. Dee glances at Resource Officer Roman’s face and is not surprised to see the blatant “smitten” expression. He looks like some anime character seconds before the “heart eyes” started. It’s almost embarrassing. Dee takes another bite of the sandwich.

“Ah, I thought I’d find the three of you here.”

Dee chokes on the bite of the sandwich.

Resource Officer Roman jumps, letting out a yelp that was surprisingly high pitched for a man of his stature. Dee coughs to dislodge a glob of chocolate breading that got stuck  when his throat closed suddenly in a panic. The only one who doesn’t seem a little bit startled by Dr. Logan Ackroyd’s appearance is Patton, who jumps up from his seat and leans forward on the table with literal stars in his eyes.

“Logan!” He cries happily, “It’s been so long!”

“Too Long,” the Substitute teacher agrees, and Dee is uncomfortable with the amount of warmth in his expression—its a stark contrast to how he had looked in the classroom, to how he had looked at Dee. His hand pulses again, his fingers twitching in the pocket he had refused to take it out of since he had sat down.

“Logan,” Resource Officer Roman says, with a sniff of distaste that’s clearly artificial. “I can’t believe they let you back into the country.”

“Roman,” The teacher responds, the warmth sizzling in the air. “Your mother says hello.”

“When did you see my mother?”

“Yesterday, I helped her grocery shop. She called me the son she wished she had.”

The Officer flaps his hands, with a noise that sounds stuck between offended and flabbergasted. Dee feels a bit of the ice cream drip down his palm.

There’s a bizarre feeling in the air, a tension? No that wasn’t right. Dee can’t place the reason for the electricity in the air that the teacher had brought, buzzing and sparking between the three of them. Mr. Hart doesn’t seem to have a bad thing to say which meant that Resource Officer Roman had every right to hate the man at the other end of the table (since he was obviously hitting on Mr. Hart, ugh). But somehow the words and the tone don’t match at all. There’s no jealousy, no thinly vailed hatred that Dee was so adept at noticing.

(If he’s honest, he thinks the Resource Officer is eye fucking the substitute Teacher right there in front of him and that even more terrifying than the alternative.)

“I see you have both entertained Mr. Ekans, here.” The teacher says turning to Dee with a sharp piercing gaze. Dee stomach drops out.

Here it is. End times. Dee finds himself sinking backwards like he can hide in from the words that are coming. The burns on his shoulders sting with a phantom pain that’s all too familiar, and not at all real. He stares at the half melted ice cream mess in his hand because it’s easier than meeting the accusatory look of his teacher who was going to hold him accountable for injuring the “perfect” student.

“Don’t you have a class to teach, Calculator Watch?” Resource Officer Roman says, “Unless you murdered them all already. Bored them to death at fourteen! Tragic!”

“Your snide comments have no equal, Prince.” The Teacher shoots back, “They are sixteen and seventeen, and I left them for a mere moment to talk to Mr. Ekans. They believe I am picking up more worksheets for them to do in the coming weeks.”

No one says anything for a second, and Dee feels it in his bones the way the attention shifts. All three adults are looking at him, and he feels the need to defend himself in any way that’s possible. What could he say? That Kyle was a douche? A bully? Like any of them would believe that. Dee was the one who had threatened and then assaulted the other. Not to mention he looked like the bad guy in everyone’s stories. Short of the fangs, he was the monster that hid under kids’ beds.

(And he wasn’t thinking that just because once he had seen several of his brother’s friends run off screaming as he approached him in the pick up area of the elementary school, because he couldn’t blame a couple eight-year-olds for being scared.)

Dee’s mouth is halfway open with some half baked, insincere apology he doesn’t mean and hates to say when Dr. Ackroyd speaks.

“I came to ask how your hand was fairing.”

Mr. Hart’s head tilts to the side. Dee glares at the other side of the room and wishes he had slid into the restroom when he had the chance to. Cowardly? Maybe. But he’s never met anyone who liked facing consequences either.

“Kiddo?” Mr. Hart says. “What happened?” He sits back down, causing the table to shake and Dee to squeeze the rest of the ice cream from between the chocolate breading and onto the table.

“There was an altercation in my class,” Dr. Ackroyd says. “Mr. Ekans ended up punching another student.”

“Oh dear!” Mr. Hart cries, and Dee for the life of him can’t figure out why he suddenly grabs the rag at his elbows and gently cups the ice cream mess that is his out-reached hand. It’s the wrong hand, but Dee’s brain short circuits in the second their hands touch. (He’s not sure why that happened either and refuses to give a second to think about it.) Why was Mr. Hart trying to help him? Didn’t he see that Dee was the villain making threats and acting on them?

“I didn’t even notice! Are you alright? Do you need ice? A bandaid?”

“Am I gonna have to write a report for this one?” Resource Officer Roman groans, “Why are you trying to give me extra homework again, Logan? We graduated years ago!”

“If I remember correctly, you got off a minute and a half ago, Roman,” the Teacher says, placing himself in the seat directly across from Dee, “So therefore, no, you will not have to write an incident report for this event. Additionally, those extra homeworks were the reason you graduated at all.”

Dee glances at the clock in the corner, surprised to see there’s still twenty minutes of class left. Did the Resource Officer really get off early? Dee had never heard of that, but then again, he had never cared before either.

“It’s the other hand, Patton.” The teacher continues.

Dee gets the feeling he’s being analyzed. Mr. Hart coaxes Dee’s other arm from his pocket, and it stings where the lip of his jean pocket rips over his knuckles. He has to turn so that Mr. Hart can look at his fingers and the black nail polish on his nails where his mother hadn’t been able to scrub it off. But it’s turning away from Dr. Ackroyd and his calculated stare and for that Dee is grateful. He hides in his shoulder.

“Mr. Ekans,” The teacher says, “Might I inquire what possessed you to acquaint Mr. Phillips with your fist in the middle of my class?”

The word “no” is at the top of Dee’s tongue, clicking against his front teeth valiantly, although the silence is preferable. Somehow, he doesn’t think he could win a game of silence against the gaze of the teacher. Somehow the silence seems much more dangerous than speaking the truth.

But before it gets out, the Resource officer is suddenly right next to them, “Did you just say he punched Phillips? Like Kyle Phillips?”

Dee doesn’t have time to even panic.

The man is already turning to him a grin lighting up three-fourths of his face. “It’s Official, Dante Ekans! You’re my new favorite student!”

“Roman!” Mr. Hart says, “You can’t pick favorites! Kyle is--”

The Officer leans back with a scoff, “I’ll stop you there, my beloved baker! I had to hold you back from physically fighting his mom at the last PTA meeting!”

“Yeah but—”

“You wanted to burn their house down!”

Mr. Hart sticks his tongue in his cheek and bites it. “Their entire family is just so awful to everyone.”

Dee imagines what it would be like if Mr. Hart had burned down their house, if Kyle had lost his dad, if Kyle had been just as disfigured at Dee was. He hates it, he hates the smug feeling in his stomach, because he knew better than anyone how much life sucked and he wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Shouldn’t wish it on anyone.

Dee hisses where Mr. Hart’s rag rubs over his knuckles. The scraps were red, but at least it didn’t look like they were bleeding. He must have ripped the first couple layers of skin off, but that’s all.

Dee stares off in a direction where no one else was. It was easier than looking at the adults. The words caught in his throat, warbled and stuttered and barely more than a mumble.

“He started it.”

Did he sound like a five year old? Yes. Most definitely. Absolutely.

“I see,” the teacher says. He folds his hands deliberately in front of himself, in a fluid motion that Dee watches like a hawk without turning his head back. The tone gives him pause, because Dee can’t find any amusement in it, any hint that this new teacher is just humoring him because he wants a laugh or why-ever any of the teachers that ever listen to him do.

“I assumed as much from his attitude during my class. I’ve already set aside time to speak to him and his mother about his inexcusable behavior.”

Dee freezes as the teacher goes on to talk about proper class etiquette. He doesn’t hear a word after “inexcusable”. It makes his chest hurt, his eyes burn, and his scars itch. Its uncomfortable, its wrong, its different. Because no one has ever called Kyle’s behavior bad. The floaty feeling from earlier comes back (without him realizing it had been gone) and Dee is certain that this is somehow a twisted dream.

A twisted dream he wants so bad to be reality. A dream that Dee doesn’t want to wake from.

“—of course. If instances continue at this pace I would be obligated to—”

“You’re serious.”

The words plop out of Dee’s mouth and land on the table between him and the teacher in some type of ugly blob. He hadn’t meant for it to be so weak, so pathetic, but his tone to wobble somewhere between the four syllables just so much that the teacher’s mouth snapped shut and Mr. Hart’s gentle hands paused from examining his knuckles. Dee wants to take it back, wants to yank the words from the air and pretend they were never there.

Dr. Ackroyd adjusts his glasses and their eyes meet for the first time. Dee thinks it’s a lot like staring into the galaxy, into the great expanse, and knowing that it was also staring back at him.

“I’m very serious. I wear a necktie.”

It sounds like a joke when he says it, and maybe there’s a flicker of his lips that tells Dee is alright to laugh at it.

Dee feels like crying instead.

“I think you’ll find I’m not like your other teachers, Mr. Ekans.”

Mr. Hart smiles at that, smiles the whole conversation, smiles like the sun is shining and the birds are singing and global warming isn’t gonna end all life on Earth by the time Dee is thirty. He lets go of Dee’s injured hand and Dee finds he misses the warmth and the gentle touch. “I have some bandages in the back. Ro, can you help me?”

The Resource Officer makes some noise but the nutritionist takes him by the wrist and drags him into the kitchens. Dee thinks the man is too gay to have really protested anyway.

The teacher and him sit silently as the echoes of their voices, of Mr. Hart’s laughter fades until its just them in their own little untouchable bubble.

“Mr. Walker, your previous science teacher, left me several notes about his classes.” Dr. Ackroyd says, “As well as the grades.”

Dee itches the burns on his neck, a little angrily. He doesn’t say anything because there’s nothing to say. It’s midway through the year and there’s very little he can do to bring his grade up as far as it needs to go for science alone. Not to mention English, Mathematics, and History.

“He mentioned that I might find you to be a difficult student, but I disagree with that assessment.” Dr. Ackroyd prompts Dee to look at him again, “I get the impression you are a very bright student, Mr. Ekans, and very few people choose to see that part of you. I’ve met a lot of students in my time teaching in the United States and abroad. Most of them get by with less than a fourth of the effort than you’ve most likely put in. However, I can’t change the grades that your teacher has already declared for you.”

He pauses, “I can however enter a grade that hasn’t been posted yet.”

Dee dares to let his chest fill with that unfamiliar feeling, that whimsy mystical emotion everyone called hope.

“As it happens, you have a 62.45 percentage in this class as of right now. Mr. Walker was notoriously slacking when he entered any of your grades, so many of your grades are resulting zeroes from missing work, including the midterm from last week.”

The midterm that Dee had finished five whole minutes before everyone else and handed into to Mr. Walker directly. The one that he’s sure the teacher had finished grading before the end of school bells had rung.

Dee hangs on the teacher’s words, too desperate for the chance Dr. Ackroyd was offering to be embarrassed about how pathetic he was acting. He was starving and this ridiculous teacher was dropping him breadcrumbs.

“So, if you are open to recreating the work that has gone missing and putting time aside to retake a midterm I will provide, I would be more than happy to enter in the missing grades.”

“You’d…you’d do that?”

Dr. Ackroyd seems surprise that Dee would even have to ask.

“Of course. I see no reason to withhold grades as long as you put in the effort, Mr. Ekans.”

Dee doesn’t care if it’s a dream. If its fake. His knuckles hurt, his chest constricts, he’s not sure he can make words even if his life depended on it. A lump forms in his throat, thick and heavy and dangerous. Because that’s all he’s wanted, all he’s needed since he was six: just someone to treat him like everyone else.

Not Lucky. Not pitiful. Just Dee, by himself, putting in the effort for the education he needed.

“Just please, if you could refrain from making anymore, ah, serious threats against the rest of the student populace.”

And that’s all it takes for him to break.

Mr. Hart comes back hand in hand with Resource Officer Roman and they find Dee attempting to forcibly remove an onslaught of tears from his face before the bell rings to release the students, and Dr. Ackroyd appearing as incredibly uncomfortable as possible as a slew of confused apologies tumble from his mouth.

And all either of them do is smile.

Dante Ethan Ekans hated every single teacher in his high school.

(Except one. And a Resource Officer. And a Nutritionist.)

[Sequel]

[growingupautie]

Anti-NT or Misanthropy part 3.

Q: Dear Nathan. Your last response has given me a bit of perspective on my own personal story and made me realize the extent to which, particularly in the crucial years of High School, I have been extremely fortunate.

I moved to Italy from the US when I was 12. To say I stuck out like a sore thumb would be an understatement. I was one of the few foreigners living in the town, I was (whether or not everyone had heard of the diagnosis) evidently non-neurotypical and dressed in a way that was borderline acceptable in the US but totally out of place in fashion conscious Italy. Most of the younger population of the town knew who I was.

I was most definitely a minority of one.

Slowly but surely, throughout the course of seven years, I moved towards a deeper and deeper form of acceptance, until I finally felt free. I recognize that I had some pretty rare catalysts to help me achieve that.

My parents made sure to get to know teachers and make sure the ones they trusted knew of my diagnosis. I’m sure my parents played an eloquent case on my behalf. Teachers tend to prefer intellectually inclined, interested students who respond well to clearly structured activities and have no trouble with rote learning over unmotivated students. I was generally treated very well by the teaching body. Their support was important in keeping me with a sense of self-worth and acceptance. For a while, I wanted to be a teacher. I benefited from both my social class, domestic stability and academic ability. Though this shouldn’t negate the amount of work and energy I invested and how hard things often were for me, these are things I was born with.

Also, the way the Italian school system is structured is (unintentionally) very autism-friendly. In fact, it was one of the reasons we moved in the first place. The school system keeps classes together for many years so small groups of students (25 per class) get to know each other almost as a second family. You tend to stay in the same classroom all day and everyone takes the same classes, week in week out. In a way, I was treated as an awkward cousin from a distant part of the family. Also, the high school system is vocational, grouping people with similar interests and academic abilities into separate schools, reducing potential tensions between ‘geeks’ and ‘jocks’. By high school, I was in a class of very studious people, with little or no contact with the more violent students I had encountered in middle school.

Most importantly, without which all the above wouldn’t have been enough, I benefited from the moral integrity, empathy and strength of character of a few classmates that saw beyond my awkward behaviors to the human behind them. I owe much of my happiness to them.

I survived middle school thanks in part to a very popular and empathetic student who didn’t allow jokes on my behalf to get too far out of hand. I was rejected often (sometimes very painfully) but rarely deceived. Though there was widespread violence at the school, there wasn’t any concentrated effort on people’s part to violently suppress me. I was deeply unhappy. But I wasn’t scared.

In High School, one of the defining moments for me was joining a band. I had been playing the bass 2 weeks and decided I wanted to be part of a band. I went to one of the many political gatherings at my school, thinking it was probably the best place to find musicians, and walked up to some random guy and asked him if he would be in my band. He could have said no. He could have laughed in my face. He could have forgotten about it. He could have used my naivety for a prank. Not only did he say yes, he also matched me up with a drummer friend of his who was looking for a bassist at the time. Being part of a band made an enormous difference to my social life in High School. We didn’t last long, but we lasted enough. I picked up social skills and norms like a sponge. By the end of two years, I had kept some and dropped the rest. I like to think it was like learning a new instrument; I had started with scales and progressed to symphonies.

There were many moments in which things could have gone horrifically wrong. I could have been lured into an abusive situation instead of band practice. I could have been beaten to a pulp on the concrete outside the metro station for reasons I could never have understood. I could have been taken advantage of and blamed for a crime I never committed.

I had watchful angels.

Perhaps what the main obstacle for a lot of people trying to befriend someone on the spectrum is the fear that their boundaries won’t be respected if they do. That they’ll be followed around. That their friends will make fun of them.

My classmates, besides being wonderful people, knew that I was going to be part of the classroom family for five years, so we had time to bond in a way we wouldn’t have had I seen them for a class a week. The structures I was in favored long term investment in people over short term ‘make your friends laugh about the weird kid’ mentality.

A final word on the diagnosis question:

It didn’t take long for that doctor to diagnose me. I was a clear case of autism, exhibiting most of the typical behaviours of an Aspie. It probably took him about 30 seconds to get the gist of the case. I re-read the diagnosis which he emailed back to me when I got in touch with him last year. I was described as a clear-cut case of Asperger’s syndrome. In his office in Boston that morning 12 years later, the question lingering in the air was not whether the diagnosis was accurate. I’ve acquired significant social and coping skills, but my basic traits haven’t changed that far. The question was whether it was meaningful. At the end of our appointment, he told me that ours was more a conversation between old friends than between doctor and patient and didn’t charge me. I loved him for that.

What I was rejecting was not so much my identity – being a ‘self-hating’ autistic person as you say – as the clammy feeling of the hospital still lingering on my body. The demeaning ritual of special ed “speech and language therapy” classes, grouped with pupils with severe learning difficulties. Seeing myself as the observed in a science experiment. Perhaps I threw the baby out with the bath water. I think in hindsight I see the value of diagnosis.

The summer before going to University, I had opened up completely about my diagnosis and my history to the guys I keep closest to me. We spent the summer with a running joke. They would insult my special ed. Teacher in the US every time I made a clumsy move like missing a volleyball or spilling something, calling him a useless pile of junk and a failure as an educator. In my heart of hearts I whispered “I win.”

I guess I didn’t really reject autism. It’s just that in my high school years I never was forced to wear a neurotypical mask. I went from being begrudgingly tolerated but isolated at middle school to being so completely accepted by the last year of High School that the distinction between myself – because as far as autism is concerned, I had always conceived of myself as a minority of one – and the others, ceased to be meaningful. I knew them down to their most intimate frailties and up to their utmost strengths. I praised them and they praised me. We were free to be individuals. The label ceased to be meaningful because they saw leagues beyond it. The autism toolbox remained in the shed. I thought I didn’t need it anymore.

As I write to you, I am in my last year of University the week before spring term starts.

Moving to the UK for University, I came up head to head with problems that I hadn’t faced before. The rigid routine of Italian high school faded away and the support of family and friends became more distant as I moved away and my friends began University in Italy. I didn’t come face to face with abuse or misunderstanding or oppression. I came face to face with entropy. All at once, I had to build my own social circle from scratch, dictate my own times, do my own cooking. It was a kind of pain I had never encountered before.

It was the first time I really, really doubted my ability to cope and make good decisions for my own well-being. I was very offended when my mother suggested I request extra time on my University Exams for ‘my autism.’ In retrospect, some autism support, not so much on academics but on life skills would have been useful.

I suppose part of my reason I burnt those documents in my first year of University was that I was rejecting the idea that I needed extra support ‘for disabled students’.

As it stands, I’m much better off than I was then, but the doubts haven’t gone away and building up a stable social life in a universe of fleeting encounters and pleasant but sometimes distant acquaintances still isn’t easy. My cooking has improved vastly but is still a chore.

What I wrote to you at the beginning of ‘wanting to take myself off the centre of the Universe’ needs to be explained a bit better. What I really realized being in the UK was the importance of contributing to something much bigger than myself in order to find happiness and meaning.

I meant, in my engagement with this page, to deepen my understanding of how the autistic community perceives itself. The oppositional imagery NT/autistic was a surprise for me since, considering I am still am the only autistic person I know personally in Italy and I knew my class well, I never thought of myself as ‘neurodiverse’ in opposition to ‘NTs’. Also, I had never heard of or encountered Autism Speaks until last year and it had no impact whatsoever on my years in Italy. It seems to be one of the main factors creating the opposition in the first place.

At the moment of writing to you, I am preparing a speculative application to Specialisterne, an organization that specializes in helping people on the Spectrum into employment by offering training and a link to corporate partners. I’d like to write posts for them, since they do not have much of a media outlet, particularly on google and that would help their outreach. Perhaps ‘autism toolbox’ (great concept from one of the comments) would be a good place to start. Any other advice from you or others is much appreciated

Peace

A: Our lives mirror each other quite a bit minus the traveling. I've had some pretty bad culture shock at times when it came to switching schools. I originally went to a kindergarten close to my home where I was isolated from the rest of the kids. They felt like something was up with me from the getgo and made sure I never got too close. When I was ripped away from there to a new school, it was a small Christian school where I managed to befriend a few people, possibly through the prodding of teachers and the principal.

After a few years though, my friends left the school and I was left with people who didn't care for me, and people who bullied me.

After a few year at that school, I was taken out for a public school for financial reasons, and that barely lasted a week for two. I was bullied by almost every kid I met. One kid grabbed me by my backpack and pushed me in the circle of the hall and into my class because he was "helping me" understand the one direction only rule they had in the hallway. After a week or so of this, and me drawing on my notes in class, a teacher grabbed me by the shirt and drug me into another classroom where there were several other mocked me, and tore up my artwork, telling me it was a waste of time, and I would never amount to anything. I was back in my Christian school by the next week.

Back in the Christian school, I continue being bullied until I joined the basketball team, and through showing some skill and oddly enough becoming somewhat "volatile" (when needed) towards bullying I became more accepted. But as usual, once I found acceptance through hard work and perseverance I was taken from that comfort and put into a completely new place. Middle school at a "Magnet School" where you could specialize in Engineering, Arts, or the Performing Arts. I went into music as I have been a musician for years at that point.

The school was a hodgepodge of races and a "cliques" none of which I was welcomed into. I made myself known as the "goody-two-shoes" on day one and that really wasn't the best move in the world. Over time, I was bullied so mercilessly that the assistant principal gave me permission to stand up for myself and fight back. I learned martial arts and took up skateboarding. Started getting into shape, and literally became even more volatile (when needed) people started to leave me alone.

I switched to the arts program after a while and found some acceptance with the artist's kids who were musicians, and artists like myself. They started a band and added me because I was one of the only ones who could actually play, and I helped teach them some things as well. A few of them actually skateboarded, so we did that together. Though looking back there was so much micro-bullying and mockery I'm not sure how I can put too much of a positive spin on that. Honestly, I was never even invited to eat lunch with them so it was a little like I was just kept around for usefulness.

By high school, they had "disbanded" the band, and put a new band together without specifically me. I created a new group of friends which were basically other outcasts. Earned my respect in this new school with many of the groups and even managed to become king of prom by the end of it despite maintaining my outsider status. Like you though when I went to college (from home) the lack of structure was my Achilles heel. There were so many new rules, almost all of them were illogical. Very few students and teachers who wanted to help me.

I struggled to get anything done but managed to keep a passing grade the majority of the time. I managed to get my degree even after my life fell completely apart and my group of high school friends who had followed me to the same college had, for the most part, turned against me and (longer story there.) The point being, that diagnosed or undiagnosed, we Autistic people go through some very similar issues. A lot of times our parents struggle and often fail to recognize what it would really take for us to succeed and flourish.

You and I both were young Autistics at a time where it was not as understood as it is now. We are not out of the dark ages just yet, but we certainly know more than we did then about who and what we are, what we need, and what we should do about it. Parents are just starting to catch up to it as well hence the need to fight off groups like Autism Speaks, dangerous "cures," and ABA techniques which often involving torturous methods. Fighting against these people as hard as we often do can certainly make it seem like we are against the entire NT population which is why I try to show some positivity in my comics as well.

I certainly didn't mean to imply that you were a "self-hating" Autistic, but that there were many out there. I sensed your story was similar to the one you eventually gave me. We are all at a different place in understanding at any given point in time and that's alright. I would definitely be in support of an Autism Toolbox thought I myself don't have the time to create or maintain one. (At the moment.) You have probably noticed the Autism community as a whole is quite divided in several ways. The want for a "cure" vs fighting against one. The acceptance of ABA and Autism Speaks vs fighting against them. We all need to do a better job of getting to the truth through facts and coming together for the greater goal of acceptance.

If you are going to write on our behalf, I would focus on the positives and negative, and also on the explaining actions, and needs, all in a way Neurotypical people will understand. A good piece of advice I always give is to scroll the Autism Boards on Facebook and look for common issues with your own life to write about. That way it's relevant to everyone and personal at the same time. And treat everyone as if they are where they are in life understanding that they may not have come in contact with the same information you have, and may not have come to the same conclusions you have. I think you are inquisitive enough, and understanding enough to find common ground and write from a good perspective.

I hope that helps. Commentors, any advice?

-Nathan

[softfics9]

School Facts 9

Fandom; SF9

Genre; High School AU

Trigger Warnings; Mention of bullying

Rating; G

Word Count; 1,635

Beta’d: No

Cross-Posted; AO3

Author Notes; This is a short drabble I wrote for a writing competition on the SF9 Amino. It gives a backstory for each of the characters before they met when they were in high school. It is set in the same universe as my previous work Post-Its, and so the age grouping of the characters are the same. (Hyung line same age, Middle line same age, Maknae line same age.) I hope you like it!

Kim Youngbin was just your average student. He did well in class, usually understanding what was going on and always completing his homework assignments on time. His work was neat and well presented, and he was well liked by all in his class. In saying that though, there was only one person he would consider a close friend for most of his school years, and that was Kang Chanhee. The majority of students believed them to be brothers, or at least related in some manner, because of how close they were and how much they looked alike. In reality, though, they had just been friends for as long as either could remember due to their mothers being old school friends. Chanhee was a good student too, similar enough to Youngbin. However, where Youngbin was quiet and only spoke when he was asked to, Chanhee was very outspoken. He was that one kid who always answered back to the teacher with a snide remark or sarcastic comment- but he never got into trouble for it. Despite being a little rude at times, he was a good kid and it was very hard not to like him. When it comes to extracurricular activities in school, the pair differed in their interests. Youngbin was very sporty, playing on the soccer and basketball teams and you could usually find him in the gym if he had a free period. He might just be messing around with a ball, or coming up with some dance routine or practicing covers of his favourite songs. He was the leader type, well able to take charge and everyone was happy to follow his instructions. On their sports days, some people would even compete to get onto Youngbin’s team, because they could be guaranteed to do well with him leading them. Chanhee, on the other hand, was a drama kid, he was always in the theatre with the rest of the club in his free time acting out their favourite scenes in different manners. He even came up with his own one act play for a school festival, which was highly commended by the teachers and students alike. Youngbin did try to steal him away from the theatre sometimes though, and Chanhee was a naturally gifted dancer who had great inspiration for new choreographies. Coming into their last years in school, Chanhee started spending more time in the gym dancing with Youngbin and although he loved his drama, he found more satisfaction in dancing with his best friend.

Kim Seokwoo was the kid in school that everyone loved. He was the teacher’s pet every year without fail, even though he never did anything to look for the title. Probably half the students in the school had a crush on him at some stage, boys and girls alike, and those who didn’t just wanted to be his friend. There was no one who didn’t like him, sure there were some guys who may have been jealous, but he was such a sweetheart so it was impossible to hold his natural charm and good looks against him. Even though everyone wanted to be his friend, he only was really close with one other boy in school, and that was Yoo Taeyang. They were related by marriage or something, it was never really explained to them properly. Taeyang was the kind of kid that was friends with absolutely everyone. Anyone could pass him in the hall and he would greet them by name with a smile. He was known throughout the school as a ball of energy and sunshine, brightening up anyone's day with just a short conversation. No matter the class he was in, he could be partnered up with anyone since he knew everyone. And like Seokwoo, he was a dedicated student who put a lot of effort into his work and learning. Since Seokwoo was such a gentle giant who didn’t want to hurt anyone's feelings, he often ended up getting roped into doing things he would much rather avoid. Some of the things he got into, he ended up loving, such as the cookery club, but others he wasn’t as big a fan of. He ended up on the school’s basketball, volleyball and baseball teams because even if he wasn’t great- having him there was a good morale boost. Of course, another huge boost for those teams came from having Taeyang as a cheerleader. He loved to dance and was incredibly gifted at it, so it was only natural he would put his talents to use and cheer for his best friend. Taeyang could often be found on the pitches behind the school coming up with new routines and running drills with the rest of the school’s cheerleading squad. Seokwoo went to watch sometimes if he wasn’t training, and even picked up a few tricks. The pair were best known around the school for their vocal talents though, after one fateful duet at a parent’s night concert, the whole school praised their clear tones and how well their voices blended. In Seokwoo’s senior year, the two even performed a song at the opening of the school’s new gym.

Baek Juho was an enigma, he slept in the back of most of his classes but still got above average grades. No one in the school really knew much about him, his cold exterior scared a lot of people away from befriending him. He was tough and competitive, when they played aggressive games like dodgeball in gym class some people knocked themselves out rather than go against him. The only person who was close to him was Kim Youngkyun, another kid with a cold exterior who had a mysterious aura around the school. There were rumours when the two started hanging out that Juho had saved Youngkyun from a group of bullies, but no one could verify the source, and they didn’t want to risk getting in either of their bad books. A few people in Youngkyun’s class claimed he was actually really sensitive and had cried at films they were shown before, but even if that was true no one was going to test it out. They were both also known for their deep voiced rapping, after being forced to compete in a talent show one year where they showcased contrasting rough and smooth styles. Despite all their external images, the duo was actually very tenderhearted and sensitive, only creating the “cold-city” facade to protect themselves from harsh words and judgment by other students.

Kim Inseong was a pretty quiet student, he never really spoke out in his classes and kept to himself most of the time. Despite all this though, he was quite popular among everyone in the school. Most of his lunches were spent in the library, reading some new book or just going over class material- not that he needed the extra study time of course. Inseong was a genius in literature and languages, always picking up on nuances in their material that no one else even considered. When he spoke in foreign tongues, it was possible to believe he was a native speaker, his diction and flow was perfect. In other subjects, he also done very well, usually coming in the top 5 of all his classes. He was interested in artistic things outside of academics as well, and if he wasn’t reading you could find him drawing in his sketchbook, playing piano or singing covers of ballads with his soothing vocals. Inseong was never short of a partner for projects, often having people ask him before the topics were even decided if they could work with him, knowing they would get a great grade and have fun doing it.

Lee Jaeyoon was known by every teacher, student, and visitor to the school. He was the voted as the class president on day one and no one ever regretted their decisions. When he was in class he was focused and always done well on tests and projects, but as soon as he was outside the classroom he was wild. No one was safe from the upbeat peppiness he brought into their halls and gym and cafeteria- even the library wasn’t safe. He spent every free moment making posters and organising events for the entire student body to enjoy. And once the event was organised and advertised, he would flit around the school buildings getting everyone hyped up and ready to participate. He ran fundraisers for all the extra things he wanted to plan and managed to get the money he needed every single time. All the little things he did made the school a much brighter place, and everyone felt like Jaeyoon was a close friend of theirs.

Lee Sanghyuk was affectionately called “Loud Sanghyuk” by the entire student body- with some teachers even accidentally calling him as such during assembly. He was the class clown, a trouble maker most of the time, always getting into some sort of mess. Despite this though, he was top of the class in most of his subjects, especially anything practical like science. No one could deny his energy and enthusiasm was infectious, anyone who spent time around him could be guaranteed to leave with sore cheeks from laughing and smiling so much. Even people from outside of the school knew who Sanghyuk was, as he was part of all the media clubs within the school and promoted their sports teams, academic competitors, and students who took part in art or music displays diligently. He was head of the radio club in the school, keeping students engaged by playing upbeat music at lunch times and hosting all sorts of fun talk shows and segments. The school was a much duller place when he wasn’t around, and everyone was infected by his happy virus personality.

[athena29stone]

This Teacher Uses Marvel Comics to Teach Government Regulation (with Great Results!)

Episode 133 of the 10-Minute Teacher Podcast

From the Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis

Follow @coolcatteacher on Twitter

Today Kyle Stern @stern_history uses Marvel’s “Civil War” to teach Government Regulation. The test scores show it is working. Understand how a teacher can use graphic novels (a/k/a Comic Books) to meet standards, excite kids, and teach at the same time. It can be done!

Today’s sponsor is Kids Discover. They’re doing awesome things to drive inquiry based learning. The Kids Discover online platform lets students enter discovery mode. This fun, visual tool lets students explore 150 different science and social studies units for elementary and middle school learners.

And while they can explore a wide variety of topics from the US Constitution to Ecology and Ancient China, I also like that you can assign these nonfiction texts at three different lexiles to supplement what you’re doing in the classroom.

Go to coolcatteacher.com/discover and get started for free. They support single sign-on with Google and Clever.

Listen Now

Listen to the show on iTunes or Stitcher

Stream by clicking here.

Below is a transcript modified for your reading pleasure. For information on the guests and items mentioned in this show, scroll down to the bottom of this post.

****

Enhanced Transcript for Episode 133 

Using Marvel Comics to Teach Government Regulation

Shownotes: www.coolcatteacher.com/e133 Download the transcript: Episode 133 Transcript

Wednesday, August 23, 2017

How Kyle Uses Comics to Teach Government Regulation

Vicki: Happy Wonderful Classroom Wednesday! Today we are talking to Kyle Stern @Stern_History, a history teacher from North Carolina, about using graphic novels to teach. So, Kyle, tell us about how you taught government regulation.

Kyle: With government regulation, especially with students, it’s not exactly the most exciting topic in the world.

Vicki: (laughs)

Kyle: (laughs) I know I love it, but they don’t. And you know, there’s tons of ways to go about it. I could drone on and on about specific topics or specific things, but I found the best way with my kids was to take advantage of, you know, popular media. Comic books kind of made this huge breakthrough a couple of years ago, and I’ve always loved them. I found that the best way for me is using Marvel Civil War, which goes into regulation, but of course it’s a fictional telling of it.

What we actually tend to do is use a dual entry log, where I will show them specific scenes from the book and actually do it Reader’s Theater style. So each kid is assigned a specific character, which gets a little bit more of student buy in and engagement, which of course is always what we’re looking for with our lesson plans.

As we go along, we stop after each scene, and we analyze it a little bit. We go over what is this? What happened? So like, for example, the first scene that we always talk about is our catalyst, our thing that causes the need for regulation. So, in the book it’s a school comes under fire, and it’s because these superheroes are not trained, and now everyone’s like, “Well we need to figure something out so this doesn’t happen again.”

And then of course I say, “Alright, what can we equate this to in current events or in recent history that it aligns with?” And of course, a lot of our kids go with something like 9/11… or I always bring up something like Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle which causes the whole regulation of the food industry. And we go into that and we analyze that, and we also do some prediction and everything. So, it’s a lot of close reading, a lot of critical analysis, which takes it a step further. It’s not just this explicit reading that we get in our elementary and middle school levels. We get more implicit. We have them draw details out themselves, which is, you know, that higher level comprehension. It always brings very positive results in my class.

How Kyle got permission to use comics in his course

Vicki: What did your administrators think when you said, “Hey, I’m going to use a graphic novel, a Marvel Civil War, to teach government regulations.” I mean, they almost don’t go together. It’s almost kind of hilarious. “I’m going to teach government regulation with a comic.” It’s basically a comic book, right?

Kyle: Oh yeah. Absolutely. I actually had a really fantastic first principal at my school. His name was Robert Beal. I brought the idea to him, and he probably had the best response that I’ve ever heard. And he was like, “Well, do you think parents are going to get upset with the fact that their kids are reading comic books in your classroom?”

Vicki: (laughs)

Kyle: And I was like, “Well, I don’t think so.” And was like, “Well, are you going to make it controversial?” And I was like, “No, that’s not my job.” And he’s just like, “Alright. Then I see no problem, as long as it gets the job done, then I don’t mind what you do.”

When he saw that my kids did actually really well with covering government regulations, then he’s like, “Well, don’t fix what isn’t broken.” So, we kept going along.

How well are the students learning government regulation?

Vicki: Yeah, cool! So, you’re teaching with this. How do the kids responding and how well are they learning it?

Kyle: It’s actually really funny. When I introduce it, like any other time when you say, “We’re going to do Readers Theater,” and everything, they all groan. And they’re all like, “I don’t want to read in front of everyone. I don’t want to be a character.” And then it’s even better when the kids are like, “I don’t like comic books. Comic books are terrible. I’d rather read something else.”

Initially, there’s a little bit of push and pull. But then once they finally really get into it, the kids start providing more information. We’re doing like standard callouts in class, and so like in the story, “We have Ironman representing this one group, and we have Captain America representing another group. What do they represent?”

And after a second of thinking the kids will go, “Oh! Ironman represents big business. Captain America represents small business.” Or, “Federal government or local government” kind of things. And they really start clicking especially as the story goes along.

And one of the main points that we try to make is, “Who does regulation really benefit? Does it really benefit big business? Does it really benefit small business?” We mostly push this during my Economics unit, so that’s how we tend to frame it.

Vicki: So, how long have you been taking this approach with this unit?

Kyle: Let’s see. At my school we do semester classes, so I’ll do Civics/Economics for half the year, and I’ve now done it about four times in my class. And it’s been honestly pretty productive. I’ve had kids come out of the North Carolina final exam for Civics/Economics, and they’re like, “Oh, Mr. Stern! There was a question about Civics/Economics, government regulation, and I definitely understood it, and it was all because of that book!”

And I was just like – and mind you, it’s kids – “I was a little worried if you were going to figure it out. I knew you had the information. I just wasn’t sure if you were going to draw on it.” And I’ve had a number of kids that do it, and now I have rising freshmen who are going to be sophomores this year. They’re like, “Oh, I heard we get to read this in your class! Is this true?” And I’m like, “Well, do you see the whole class set on the bookshelf? I don’t keep it all for myself.”

What other topics would be good for graphic novels?

Vicki: Yeah. Awesome! Now if you had your way, are there some other units you might do with graphic novels?

Kyle: There’s a number of different things that I would like to do. Some of it is just figuring out the best way to take a look at them. I always like to find, for example – I actually did this one in my thesis study, and I think I’m going to push for it this year – is discussing the Constitution, and the different parts of it, and the Amendments.

There’s actually a really great graphic novel, and it’s just, The Constitution: The Graphic Novel. It really breaks it down, and it uses the different literacies that, you know, our student have and we don’t draw on all the time. Like, we constantly have our students read, right?

And not all of our kids – I mean, we would love to say they’re all at grade level or above, but let’s face it, some kids just aren’t. And it helps give them a little more leverage to grasp the information a little bit better. That’s one of the reasons why I really like using graphic novels. I get the kid to read the Constitution, but let’s face it. Reading 18th century writing is not the easiest when you’re just kind of trying to come to grips with the way we read and write in the 21st century. So, adding those pictures, it becomes a little bit more clear. It gives them a new way of analyzing the information.

Vicki: So, teachers, we have heard an idea. You have an example to share, that this DOES work, and you CAN teach – I mean, if you can teach government regulation with graphic novels, what can you NOT teach with it? So, it can be done. I think it’s really exciting, and I love it because, I’m not even going to say “out of the box” because I don’t even like boxes.

It’s just good teaching, saying, “I can use this to teach.” It engages the kids, and it gets kids excited. And so get out there and be remarkable!

Transcribed by Kymberli Mulford

Full Bio As Submitted

Kyle Stern

Kyle Stern is a high school social studies teacher at Lee County Schools in North Carolina. Originally from Webster, New York (just outside of Rochester), Stern attended the State University of New York and Fredonia. There he earned his BA in Adolescent Social Studies Education and MS in Literacy Education.

While completing his Master’s, he focused on the use of non-traditional texts on expository material. Since coming to Lee County in 2015 he has taught Civics & Economics, World History and is the lead teacher in his school���s ACT prep program.

      Disclosure of Material Connection: This is a “sponsored podcast episode.” The company who sponsored it compensated me via cash payment, gift, or something else of value to include a reference to their product. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I believe will be good for my readers and are from companies I can recommend. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.)

The post This Teacher Uses Marvel Comics to Teach Government Regulation (with Great Results!) appeared first on Cool Cat Teacher Blog by Vicki Davis @coolcatteacher helping educators be excellent every day. Meow!

from Cool Cat Teacher BlogCool Cat Teacher Blog http://www.coolcatteacher.com/e133/

[maloned]

Celebrating my 2nd Birth! 20 years!

My life would have been very different if it wasn’t for a series of events I experienced 20 years ago. This is a quick telling of my 20-year relationship with Jesus of Nazareth.  

An Unchurched Home I grew up in an unchurched, irreligious home.  My Cuban-American family did not attend church regularly, say grace at the dinner table, talk about religion or say bedtime prayers.  We did keep some religious customs, which many Hispanic families adhere to for cultural and traditional reasons. I was baptized as a child and receive first communion at our local Catholic church.  Apart from that, we never really attended church. Occasionally, we would attend an Easter service, but in no way was that an annual tradition. The most Christianity that I was exposed to was ABC’s annual airing of the Ten Commandments and the NBC Jesus of Nazareth mini-series.  My home had little Buddhas around the house, my mother practiced reading Tarot cards and used the Ouija board for more than fun and games.  My family would sometimes visit family members’ Santeria ceremonies (Practiced by many Caribbean nations; a Roman Catholicism and Yoruba hybrid, an African religion which Voodoo shares in heritage).  

I grew up apathetic to all of these things. I brushed them off as superstition and silliness. I loved science, science fiction and heavy metal. I saw Christians and religious people to be ignorant and weak minded, the kind of people who sucked all the joy out of life.  I found the humanism taught in Star Trek more appealing and reasonable.  My love of heavy metal made Satan, whom I thought of as a fiction figure, seem pretty cool.

I had a few relatives who were practicing Christians.  My uncle Alberto, my Tía Niña and my cousin Isabel attended a large Hispanic church, La Catedral del Pueblo.  I’m ashamed to say that I unfairly had an unflattering opinion of them. I had that stereotype opinion of them being religious fanatics and zealots.  Plus, I didn’t like the fact that that church bought and closed down the local skating rink to use the building for their Sunday services.

I only had one close friend who came from a religious home, Argelio. Argelio sporadically spoke to me about his family’s faith, but he and I mostly enjoyed our time tinkering with computers. I did not have Argelio’s capacity for working with and fixing computers. I never have. But by looking over Argelio’s shoulder, I was able to learn graphic design and gain above-average computer skills. I’ve seldom told Argelio, but my life is richer because of what I’ve learned from him and the opportunities he has given me. I’m currently working with Argelio, the second job he’s gotten me, which expanded my skills and has blessed my family materially and even more immeasurably. But the greatest of these, was meeting for the first time someone who is Christian and whom I also thought was pretty cool.  

I found out that my great grandmother, my Mima, attended Reverend Espinosa’s evangelical church and she use to take me when I was a very small child.  My grandmother tells stories of me singing from stage in front of Reverend Espinosa’s large congregation.  Reverend Espinosa was an influential evangelist in the Cuban community in Miami.  

A Series of Events My mother was going through her own transformation late during my high school years.  She started attending La Catedral del Pueblo regularly.  My cousin Isabel married Angel, one of the associate pastors at church, and they built a closer relationship with my mom.  I started seeing my mother, an avid reader, reading the Bible instead of her Reader’s Digest.  I became mildly curious about what was going on with her, but I couldn’t stand the few times she took me to that church. The Spanish services were extremely long.  I felt like they spent hours at a time standing and singing.  I didn’t take it well when Angel invited me to church when he bumped into me at Publix, my after school part-time job.  

I wasn’t the best student.  I had difficulties reading and focusing in class.  I’d rather spend time drawing, using my imagination or socializing with my classmates.  I was a ‘C’ and ‘D’ student.  I only did well in science and in computer classes, which I still love.  I was a lazy kid and I hated chores.  My grandmother warned me: You better get a college education if you don’t want to do physical labor.  I just brushed that off.  Then, in the middle of my junior year in high school, my mom confronted me about my failing grades.  She told me that I had better turn things around, get into college or start thinking about getting a job after high school to pay rent.  That confrontation hit me like a ton of bricks.  I was confronted with a single thought: I’m going to be a bum.

The combination of the fear and the curiosity in my mom’s transformation led me to seek help wherever I could. I felt the need to seek God.  I didn’t know how, so I looked for my old pocket Catechism, a Roman Catholic cliff notes on Church doctrine.  In it was the Lord’s Prayer, the guide Jesus used to teach His disciples how to pray.  So I began to recite that prayer every night, until I committed it to memory.  I would then say a prayer in my own words after reciting it.  I would ask God to bless my friends and family and to help me make something out of myself.  I wasn’t much of a recreational reader, but I’ve always loved movies.  So I started to watch that old Jesus of Nazareth mini-series and the Ten Commandments to learn a little more about this faith that my mother was now entrenched in.  I wondered why my mother didn’t go to the Catholic Church, where she had me baptized.  After watching the Ten Commandments and Jesus of Nazareth, I began to build a case against Catholicism.  The use of iconography and images certainly went against all of Charlton Heston commandments. I also found a lot of the Catholic Church’s practices to seem more like those of the Pharisees, the villains in the Jesus of Nazareth mini-series.  I didn’t see the Church holding the same principles that Jesus portrayed.  Jesus loved people.  He met them where they were.  He wanted to lift the up, not tear them down.  Years later, my mom told me that she knew that the Catholic Church was not going to be the place for me. She knew that I would end up in a Protestant church.

Curiously, my life started taking a few turns.  I began to take my studies more seriously.  I had an internal desire to do better.  My work ethic, both at school and Publix, increased.  I asked to be moved to the front of the class and began paying attention in class. I started taking interest in the subjects.  My eyes were open to all the wonders I was missing out on.  Mrs. Grill enthusiastically took me into the wonderful world of literature.  Mrs. Morgado taught me logical and high level math.  Mrs. Chin and Mr. Margolis cultivated my love of science.  My grades started to turn around. My teachers and supervisors took notice and that year I was awarded turnaround student of the year and got a promotion to stock clerk at Publix.  

I could easily argue that these changes were not due to anything religious.  But I would eventually concluded that these things were not coincidental.  

I wasn’t able to make up for all my previous academic years in time to graduate with the rest of my classmates, but after a few weeks in summer school and a semester in night school, I got my high school diploma.  I had done it.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was even able to walk in a graduation ceremony.  It was the last year that my high school would have a ceremony for those students who graduated in summer school.  

A Future I was very proud of all the improvements I made, but I was far from where I needed to be.  Now I had to go to college and I was so afraid, full of self-doubt.  I barely graduated from high school; how was I going to be able to go through college?  I registered at Miami-Dade Community College and I was terrified of the entrance exam.  Many of my friends and high school classmates didn’t do well on the test.  They would have to register and pay for a few semesters in non-accredited remedial reading and math classes.  These classmates graduated from high school on time with respectable grades. If they couldn’t pass the exam, I certainly wouldn’t, I thought.

At this time, my bedtime prayer was the only religious activity that I was committed to.  But that commitment led me to make some changes in my behavior and the way I thought.  I found myself trusting God in more areas of my life, but kept a healthy level of skepticism.  I asked God to help me do well in that exam.  Circumstances, I believed, were in my favor.  I had to take math classes during my senior year of high school and in that final summer school semester, since I was still making up for all my previous years of laziness.  During this time, my classmates didn’t have to take any math.  Only three years of math were required in high school.  Many of my classmates elected out of math their senior year and decided to take other fun courses like woodshop, home economics or left school early for work study.  But taking math my senior year greatly aided me in that entrance exam.   I couldn’t believe it while I was taking the test.  I knew this stuff.   It was still fresh in my mind.  So, by God’s sovereignty, I passed the test and I would not have to take any remedial classes.  

Right after the test, I went straight to orientation to register for my first classes.  The exam result was very encouraging, but there were still many doubts in my ability to navigate any higher-level learning.  I registered for English, math, humanities, American history and civics.  My nervousness quickly turned to excitement.  I was blessed with great professors.  These professors loved the subject matter and would lecture with a lot of enthusiasm.  It was contagious.  I continued sitting in the front of the classroom and became very proficient in note taking.  I absorbed those lectures and they would encourage me to learn more.  Reading and studying became easier.   In college, there was no busy work and homework to turn in for a grade.  You just needed to learn the material, pass two tests (a midterm and final), and write a term paper.  I couldn’t believe it.  I was loving school.  I liked high school, but I enjoyed it because I got to spend my days with friends, go out for lunch and play sports in P.E.  Now I loved school, but not for the hot girls in class, but for the expanding of my mind and the world around me.  But something was still missing.  

I was beginning to see a bright possibility of a future.  I thought I knew what I needed, but in that search, God led me to what I was really lacking.  I did not know what I wanted to major in.  I finished my first college semester will all ‘B’s.  Those were the best grades I had ever gotten.  I was more than satisfied. I thought of majoring in computer science.  I had a love for technology, but the thought of it didn’t draw me in.  I was proficient with computers, but certainly not an expert.  My grandmother invested in a computer when I was in high school.  That computer is what facilitated my friendship with Argelio and helped me learn many of the skills I still use today. But there was another piece of technology my grandmother bought for our family that really captured my imagination: a home video camcorder.  

The summer before my senior year of high school, my grandmother took my mother and me on a trip to Europe.  We traveled through Spain, France and England.  The coolest part was that she bought a video camera for the trip and she entrusted me to capture the trip on video.  She must have been impressed with my VCR timer recording skills.  I recorded all the beautiful sights, all the marvelous landscapes and the ingenious architecture in Madrid, Paris and London. I loved that camcorder.

FIU Production Class

When we returned home, I couldn’t get enough of that camera.  I pushed my friends, Alex, Leo, Argelio, Dany, Magdiel, Ruben, Sohail and Chaka, to star in my homemade productions.  Alex, Ruben and Chaka’s natural comedic skills made great subjects for these after school blockbusters.  That love for the moving picture struck me when I learned that Miami-Dade College offered an associate degree in film and broadcast.  Alex had taken some broadcast classes in high school, but it never occurred to me to do the same.  Regrettably, it should have.  Our high school, South Miami Senior Hight, was a magnet school for television production. I would love to have been in that class when Alex told the whole school that he wasn’t wearing pants under the anchor’s desk.  So Alex and I both signed for the AA program in broadcast.  I had chosen my career and in doing so, God led me to meet the person who would lead me to my eternity.

An Invitation The class was Introduction to Mass Communications with professor David Gravelle.  I walked in the first day of class with one of my best friends, Alex Toribio, and I took my now tradition seat in the front of the class.  Alex and I got the last two seats at the front row to the displeasure of another student.  Her name was Damaris Fernandez.  “You beat me to the front,” she exclaimed.  Alex, the gentleman he is, took the initiative to offer her his seat next to me.   She quickly joined our little circle of friends.  She couldn’t resist Alex’s contiguous humor and our enthusiasm for film and television.  The three of us formed a small study group.  The group mostly comprised of Alex and Damaris always asking for a copy of my very detailed notes.  We had a lot of laughs in that class.  Alex was, as always, hilarious and  he was very easy to bounce ideas off of.  Damaris opened up her fun-loving side when she hung out with Alex and I before and after class.  

The time with Damaris and that mass communication class would lead me into a relationship with Jesus of Nazareth, a love for a church and a means in which to serve it.  

In that introduction course, I found out what I was good at, what I was meant to do.  I could not believe it. I got my very first ‘A’ in that class. On the final day of class,  Damaris, whom had become very comfortable with Alex and me, asked me if I could give her a ride home.  On that ride home, Damaris began to tell me about her relationship with Jesus Christ.  Between her and Argelio, I now knew two pretty cool people who were Christians.  Somehow in the conversation, curiosity grew in my heart.  I now wanted to know more about Jesus and Christianity.

Damaris invited me to a play her church was performing at. Coincidentally, it was at my mother’s church.  She told me that there was a young adults group that met there on Friday nights.  

A Love for Christ On a Friday night, in April 1997, I decided I was wanted to visit that young adult service at my mom’s church.  I dragged my good friend Ranses Rodriguez with me.  I didn’t want to go to a den of weirdos alone.  

It was a nice service.  It was an all-Spanish service, but the message penetrated my heart.  The message was about the freedom that comes from obedience, obedience that comes from a grateful heart.  I don’t know why, but I became very emotional that night.  I felt like that message was directed right at me.  I was confronted with the realization of everything God had done for me.  I had a great family, my only problems were self-inflicted and He had delivered me from them.  All He asked in return, for all His love and favor, was a relationship with Him.  

At the end of that service, they asked who in that auditorium would want to make a decision to enter into a relationship with God and accept the gift of salvation, paid by the death, burial and resurrection of Jesus Christ.   I began to weep, and I remember Ranses stunned, sideways-look at me.  They asked if whoever wanted to do so to walk to the front of the congregation.  The minister prayed with me and invited me into that relationship.  I haven’t turned around since that day.

A Love for Church My heart was now open to Jesus.  My prayers became more intimate. I wanted more, but to be honest, I really didn’t like my mom’s church, La Catedral del Pueblo.  The church was very traditional, it was in Spanish and, to be honest, it was boring.  That’s not the kind of place I would want to invite my friends.

A couple of week after that, I attended Damaris’ play at La Catedral del Pueblo.  It was a very creative production, I never had seen or thought something like that would come out of a church.  Damaris’ young adult pastor spoke.  Pastor Gilbert Gomero’s words were plain, easily understood, heart piercing and in English.  Now this is something I can wrap myself around.  My short experience in communications and the arts taught me the importance of getting a message across.  

After that service Damaris invited me to visit her church the following Friday.  I loved her church, El Buen Samaritano.  This church service starts with music, but not your typical traditional hymns or anthems.  These songs had rhythm, they were a combination of many Latin music styles and the songs were bilingual, with both English and Spanish lyrics.  Pastor Gilbert Gomero’s message was funny, inspirational, motivational, substantive and captivating.  The youth and young adult services weren’t your traditional church services.  They were a hybrid of concert, theater and many other forms of art, which made the Gospel -- the good news of Jesus Christ -- easy to absorb.   Damaris’ church was not close, but this is the place I wanted to be.  

TOP: Iris Mundo's Cell. BOTTOM: Jiggaz

At the service, two ladies, Iris Muñoz and Rosemarie Rivera, welcomed me and, along with Damaris, invited me to visit their small Bible study group the next Thursday.  El Buen Samaritano, like La Catedral Del Pueblo, was and is a big church.  It can be a little intimidating. But the church’s small groups, which they called “cells,” were small intimate groups that met in homes all around the community.  Iris’ cell group welcomed me right away.  It was easy to open up and speak with these people.  I never felt like they had any ulterior motives, except to make me feel accepted and part of the group. The small group was a great place to grow in our walk with God, to build relationship, to build trust and accountability. I made some great friends there.  Janet Cruz, Willie Peña, Orlando DelValle, Maria Benavides, Lydia, Denise & Damaris Castillo, Jose Rivera and Visenta “Pambe” Portillo. Jose, Rosemarie and Pambe would become some of my closest, lifelong friends.  The cell cemented my desire to make El Buen Samaritano (EBS) my home.

If EBS was going to be my church, I needed to visit on a Sunday morning.  From the get go, I knew there was something special about what I was about to walk into.  I drove into the parking lot to be welcomed by friendly parking attendants, but what caught my eye was the line outside the church waiting to get in. This was the first time I saw the church in the daylight, I had only visited at night for the young adult service.  I was stunned to see the large arena-sized building that was being constructed behind the existing church.  Sunday mornings were all in Spanish, but the service transcended any language barrier.  The Latin music inspired worship had the congregation motivated for a thrilling message by the lead pastor, Melquiades Urgelles.  His messages were so accessible and moving.  Pastor Urgelles’ sincere heart and authenticity was transparent.  He was and is a man who lives humbly in service to God and his flock.  You would never know that he is and was the pastor of what was the largest Hispanic church in South Florida at the time.  From then on, EBS was my church and I only knew him as Pastor.  

An EBS Baptism.

It was then time for me to go public with this commitment.  Iris, now my cell group leader, approached Damaris and I about getting baptized.  So in August of 1997, I took the plunge.  I had been baptized as a small child, but this was my believer's baptism.  Baptism is really just a public profession of an inward decision.  It doesn’t have any supernatural power.  But something happened to me after I existed those waters.  I still had a lot of bad habits and behavior at the time, but I experienced a movement of conscious, a conviction of the Holy Spirit to start allowing God to transform me outwardly, to make a distinction between who I was before and who I was going to be.  

Things changed from then on.  I didn’t want to speak the same, desire the same things or do the same things. I wanted to share this new life with everyone and anyone I could.  There was a time that I was bringing my grandmother’s van full of people invited to church and our cell group.  Jesus’ great commission to make disciples of the whole world became very important to me.   

A Love for Drama

My portrayal of Satan at Holy Night 1997

I had made a lot of new friends in our small Bible study group, but I was still relatively unknown to the majority of the congregation.  Pastor Gilbert Gomero saw an opportunity to use that.  The EBS youth produced an annual Halloween spectacular called Holy Night.  Gilbert knew Damaris and I enjoyed film and theater and asked us to host the show together.  Damaris was well known in the church, so he asked her to be the primary host and he asked me to play her antagonist, Satan himself, since I was a relatively unknown.  Our conflict wrapped around funny, modern takes on well-known Bible stories using popular culture motifs to communicate the Gospel clearly to the youth and young adults in our community.  

Soon after that, Damaris moved back to Puerto Rico, but by then I was no longer a visitor at EBS – I was a full fledge member.  Then Gilbert moved to the EBS New York church plant and I was asked to take over the drama team with the EBS youth.  

The EBS Leader Class

Around the same time, Iris asked me to become her cell group assistant leader.  To do so, I attended a 6-week leadership course.  The course taught public speaking, hospitality and shepherding.  I went on to lead a small youth group of my own, the Jiggas, and direct the youth drama team for three years and direct three Holy Nights.  I loved serving in drama and with the youth.  I built the relationships that would shape the rest of my life during this time.  Ruben Legra became one of my most influential mentors, Berman Cespedes and Danny Detres became my brothers in the faith. Best of all, that initial leaders course is where I first shared a class with a girl named Lucia Ponce, the woman who would go one to become one of my best friends, my partner in life, my wife.  

A Love for His Word I was required in that leaders class to give a five-minute speech on the topic of my choice.  I chose to speak about the validity and authority of the Bible.  The Bible, God’s Word, was a topic of great curiosity early in my faith.

My mom bought me a leather-boud King James Bible with a Scofield Reference Bible Commentary a while before my conversion.  It was a beautiful book with thick heavy pages with a gold trim.  I still have that Bible and it still has that new leather smell.  Soon after I got saved, I pulled that book out of the nightstand and began to read it.  It wasn’t easy, as anyone who has ever tried to read the King James translation would tell you.  But I knew, from that Jesus of Nazareth TV mini-series, that scripture had utmost importance in a devoted walk with Christ.  That mini-series had formed much of my opinion about Jesus.  But now I needed to know more, to go to the source.

Jesus would always say, “It is written.”  He would always reference “The Word of God” when making any statements.  So I knew it must be important to know what it said.  When I first began to read, the first thing I read was the book of John. In the very first chapter, it said: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”  I learned then that the Bible wasn’t only the way to know about God; it was the way to know God.

As a new believer, I had a very strong belief in the existence of God and the person of Jesus Christ, but I had a lot of doubts about organized religion and their use of holy texts to take advantage of laypeople.  Even though I made a profession and commitment to God, and I believe that I found an authentic Church with many genuine believers who wanted to practice the kind of love Jesus taught about, I wanted to know what exactly this faith taught and believed. I didn’t want to learn it from a religious institution that had a confirmation bias; I wanted to learn from someone who would challenge my beliefs.  If this faith has a strong foundation, it should be able to stand against criticism.  

FIU Religious Studies: My Judaism Course

So when I graduated from Miami-Dade College and transferred to Florida International University, I continued television productions studies with a certificate in film studies.  I was interested in enrolling in a minor.  I considered computer science again, but I decided on religious studies with a concentration on Judeo-Christian studies.  I took courses on philosophy, Judaism, the Hebrew Bible, New Testament studies, archeology and church history.  I studies under professors and with classmates from all different faiths and backgrounds.  The classrooms were great environments for healthy debate and discussion.   My favorite professor was Erik Larson, a renowned Bible scholar, church historian and one of the translators of the Dead Sea Scrolls. The courses challenged my faith many times, but at the end it strengthened my beliefs and I grew a love for church history, biblical theology, scholarship and apologetics.

During our Archeology course, I was offered the opportunity to take a semester in Jerusalem. It would have been a semester of mornings excavating ancient ruins and lectures at night led by some of the world’s most famous religious scholars.  I never asked my parents. It was very expensive and I didn’t want to burden them with the cost.  At the time, I was designing websites on the side with Argelio and I would not have been able to afford it on my own.  Years later, I mentioned it to my grandmother and she became very upset.  She said that she would have made-it happen so I could have had that once in a lifetime experience.  It goes to show that you never know unless you ask.  

A Ministry and My Mentors There was a period after Gilbert moved to New York that EBS went without a lead youth pastor.  Volunteer leaders like Ari Ponjuan and Cesar Perez led the youth until Pastor Wilmer Urgelles took the reins of the ministry.  Wilmer would end up being a great friend, mentor and the most influential person in my faith.  

One night, after exiting our cell group leader’s meeting, I saw Wilmer, the worship leader at the time, tinkering with a computer and video projector on the floor of the main sanctuary. I curiously asked what he was doing.  Wilmer told us, Danny Detres and I, that the church was going to retire their old projector slide lyrics system and upgrade to a video projector and use PowerPoint for lyrics and message references.  Wilmer asked me if I could troubleshoot something for him on PowerPoint. Wilmer looked up when I quickly solved the issue and asked, “David, aren’t you studying video?  Would you like to take the lead on video, both running lyrics on Sunday morning and video as a whole?”  I would serve in the production ministry, which handled all the audio-visual necessities of the church.  At that moment, I saw a big piece of the puzzle fall into place. I knew what I needed to do.  At the time, our church was on the forefront of creativity when it came to church services and using technology to facilitate the spread of the Gospel.  I knew than that I wanted to be instrumental in that process and God had been specifically preparing me for that.   

Willow Creek Art 2006 Conference

Wilmer and Jose, who was previously my cell supervisor but now the production ministry leader, became my two most influential mentors.  Wilmer and Jose taught me the value of an authentic love for Jesus Christ, God’s love for people, intimate relationships with people and the value of exillence.  I got the opportunity to grow beyond video and contribute in the programming of Sunday services and other ministries.  Wilmer exposed me to the seeker sensitive movements started by pastor Bill Hybels and Willow Creek Community Church and to Andy Stanley and North Point Community Church.  Wilmer, Jose and a group of us would travel to Willow Creek conferences in attempts to continue to transform our South Miami-Dade church’s heart for those who don’t have a relationship with God. Today, EBS is “Una Iglesia para Todos” – a church for everyone.

A Family

Ruben, Berman, Danny and Pambe.

My heart expanded because of what the extended family God gave me.  While at EBS, Pastor Wilmer would cast a vision of a church where the environment and culture lent to the building of intimate relationships.  Sometimes we never saw the forest through the trees.  It seemed like it was a vision that we couldn’t attain, but all the while those relationships were being forged while we all worked tirelessly on the mission God had given us.  Till this day, some of my lasting relationships were built at EBS.  I couldn’t imagine a life without Berman, Ruben, Danny, Pambe, Jose, Wilson, Julio, Ricky, Eddie, Ari and many others.

God blessed me with even more than an extended family. In 1999, Wilmer visited a Willow Creek conference for the first time.  When he returned, he brought Ari, Cesar, Karen and I together to begin working out a new vision and mission for the EBS youth.  The new vision: “To become a group of believers with an authentic love for Jesus Christ.” The vision was cast to the entire youth leadership at a conference we hosted at the Dadeland Marriott.  It was an existing time.  But I received a different mission from anyone else that day.  The vision was of a beautiful, curly haired girl.  Her name was Lucia.  I traveled to the conference with Danny and I’m sure he got tired of hearing me talk about her.  She was at the conference with this really big guy.  I needed to know if she was with that guy.  So during lunch, I dragged Danny with me to sit at the same table as Lucia.  I sat right in front of her.  Danny had everyone at the table laughing.  So everyone, including myself, were feeling very comfortable.  I struck up a conversion with Lucia.  It was pleasant.  But I wanted to take it to another level.  That’s when I threw caution into the wind and asked Lucia straight up, in front of that guy.  I wanted to ask if they were dating, but I asked “Are you guys married?”  Lucia replied with a loud resounding “NO!”  I felt so embarrassed for that guy, but elated for myself.

Over the next few weeks, Berman and I would sit in the far right wing of the church’s auditorium on Sunday mornings.  “Why are we sitting here?” Berman would grill me week after week. That was until he noticed.  “You’re just sitting here to check out that girl!” Berman exclaimed when he realized that I was sitting in a prime spot to check her out when she would make her entrance into the sanctuary, way after the music had ended.  Lucia and her family were notoriously late to church on Sundays.

I needed to find out more about this girl.  After the service, I was sitting in the production booth, when I asked to Jose, “Who’s that girl?  She’s beautiful.”  Jose head spun around and said, “That’s Lucia, she serves in the kids ministry with Rose (Jose’ wife).  I don’t remember how that conversation ended, but then I noticed Jose talking to Rosemarie, signaling and pointing at me and Lucia.  Oh no, I thought.  Then, moments later, while I was walking to my car in the parking lot, I see Rosemarie talking to Lucia, signaling and pointing at me. I told the wrong people, I thought.  

It was the middle of Holy Night season, the annual Halloween show I directed.  One night, at a planning meeting at Karen’s house, Jackie Vargas shows up with Lucia.  I could tell already that this was part of the church-matchmaking proces.  I was very happy to see her and to hang out with her, but I needed to take control of this situation.  I was going to ask Lucia out.

Our wedding

I was looking for the right opportunity, and then it landed on my lap.  Lucia showed up to audition for Holy Night.  I noticed her when she was filling out the signup sheet.  I can’t remember anything else from those auditions.  I spent the entire night mustering up the courage to talk to her.  At the end of the night, after all the auditions, when everyone was leaving, Lucia walked over to me to turn in her form.  This was my opportunity, so I took it.  “Hey, you want to hang out sometime, on a date.”  I wanted to make sure to say it was a “date.”  I didn’t want to end up anywhere near that “friend zone”. She said “Yes.”  Wow!  But I had to play it cool.  So I responded, “Cool. I’ll give you a call then. I already have your contact info (motioning to the audition forms).”  Lucia smiled and we began a great two-year courtship that ended with a wedding there, at EBS, the place where I fell in love with my God, His church and now my bride. Sixteen years and two wonderful daughters later, God is still blessing us.   Full Circle

FIU Graduation

Our wedding was a culmination of my things. Graduation day at FIU was right around the time we walked down the aisle.  It was a very exciting and scary time.  I couldn’t help but reflect on everything that God had done for me.  I met and married the person whom I would be spending the rest of my days with and I was about to walk down the graduation aisle. I never thought this day would come.  There I was, a kid close to not graduating from high school, now about to graduation for a four-year university with A’s and B’s.

But what now?  I was faced with the reality of supporting a new family.  At the time, Argelio and I owned a web design company, but it was a small company that helped us while I was in college.  I needed to find a job in my new career.  Our professors would tell us that we would not be able to find a job in television in a big market like Miami.  We needed to move to a small market, get experience and then try to get into the big markets.  I really didn’t want to move.  I didn’t want to move Lucia away from her family. I wanted to be close to my friends, my family and my church.  I felt very uncertain.  So I prayed.

Soon after that, the head of the FIU mass communications department, Mr. Delgado, emailed the class about an opening in the editing department at WFOR (Channel 4), the local CBS-owned station.  I thought all the TV stations in town were northeast of downtown, but I would prefer that commute distance, rather than possibly moving out of state.  But I was surprised to discover, on MapQuest, that CBS 4 was in Doral, minutes away from where we lived.  I was filled with excitement about the possibility.  Editing was my strong suit; it was my love.  How great would it be to get a job editing at a TV station near home?  I continued to pray.  

WFOR Supervising Editor: Evy Woods

I sat in the CBS 4 lobby waiting to be interviewed when Evy walks out and said “David?” I looked up and responded, “Yes?” She said, “You’re David, Mirta’s grandson. I’m Evy, Julia’s daughter.  I was at your wedding.” The supervising editor at CBS 4 was Evy Woods, the daughter of one of my grandmother’s best friends, who happened to be one of the few Christians who associated with my family.  Evy took me on a tour of the station and offered me a job to be an editor for the morning and noon newscast.  I couldn’t believe it.  This could not be a coincidence.  God answered my prayers.  

While I was there, Evy introduced me to Bill Sendelback, the satellite and feed room coordinator.  Bill was one of the only other Christians who worked at the station.  I had many great co-workers at CBS 4, but Bill was one of my closest friends and mentors while working there.  He kept my feet planted and fully grounded on the foundation that is Jesus Christ in an environment not conducive to staying above reproach.  

A year after I started, I was promoted to coordinating editor for the morning and noon broadcast.  A couple of year after that, I was nominated for an Emmy in editing.  When I left WFOR eight years later, I was the video supervisor for their television programming.  God blessed my time while I was at the station.  We were able to buy our two first homes and we had our first daughter, Olivia, seven years after I started working there.  

Conclusion I’ve always been a skeptic.  I believe God intervenes in the lives of humanity, but I believe that these miracles are the exceptions, not the rule.  They seldom happen.  They would be natural if they happen regularly. But somehow, I believe that God has shown me favor, to the point where I can’t believe that it’s a coincidence.  It all started with prayer.  When my mom converted, I prayed and God saved.  When I was failing school, I prayed and God motivated and saved me.  When I needed a job, I prayed and God provided.  When our business failed, I prayed and God had mercy on us.  Every time I have prayed, He has answered.  God gave me my education, my salvation, my career, my family, my health and a living. I thank God for these past 20 years and I can’t wait for the rest of eternity.  

Today

Olivia's Baptism

In April of 2008, our time at EBS and with Wilmer ended. EBS becames a spanish only church. We still loved EBS, but it was time to find a new home. Pastor Wilmer himself brought us to our exisitng home, Fellowship Church. Wilmer said, FC is a church that shares our vision for reaching people. Since then many of our friends, whom never gave church a chance, came into a relationship with Jesus at FC. I remember when Robert, a long-time agnostic whom we'd prayed for many years, found FC on his own and was transformed into a Christ Follower. His conversion was catalist for other friends to find God. It will be 10 years, next year, since FC has been our home. Our daughters grew up here, our oldest has already been baptised. In the last 20 years, my biggest desire is everyone could discover what I have found in a realtionship with Jesus. FC challenged me to put that desire into action. I pray that this Easter, you would join us and many others celebrating what Jesus did for all of us. We'll be waiting for you.

(Editied by Joel Delgado)