#a great teacher who wants to encourage the next set of trainers to set out on their own journeys

[sluttywoozi]

One More | Woojin x f!reader

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~5.5k | Pairing: woojin x reader | Genre: romance, smut

Woojin has been your personal trainer for the last six months. He would be lying if he said that's all he wants to be.

Suggested by: an anon 💖

Warnings: food, oral (both receiving), hair pulling, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, cum eating

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina; physique is not specified, just that they’ve grown stronger; it’s mentioned that woojin can squat their body weight but this is fiction so he can squat anything we want him to; woojin lifts reader mmmmmultiple times; wap

“One more,” Woojin instructs, watching as you strain to lift the dumbbells over your head for the last time. It’s been six months since he started training you, six months since he felt his heart somersault in his chest at first glance, six months since this crush started growing. Now, it’s bigger than his biceps, bigger than his calves, even.

Now, he can barely stand to look at you in your cute little workout gear. Can barely stand to listen to you huff and grunt with the exercises he puts you through. Can barely stand to smell your sweet perfume, tinged by the salt of well-earned sweat. It all makes him think of having a relationship with you beyond being your personal trainer.

Which is why he’s ecstatic that today is the last day of your contract. It means he can finally ask you out, finally see if you think of him as more than someone who bosses you around in the gym. Maybe it’ll even be your turn to boss him around.

You seem the opposite though. You seem more lethargic than normal, less excited to follow his instruction, less interested in proving your strength, very unlike your past sessions. He wonders if you think this will be the last you see of him, and can’t help the little smile that rises to his lips at the idea of you preemptively missing him.

“Good job, Y/N, perfect last set,” he praises you, watching as you slowly lower the dumbbells and drop them on the ground, bending at the waist to catch your breath.

He stubbornly keeps his eyes on the wall instead of your shapely ass, unwilling to indulge his baser urges so long as you’re his client. Even if you weren’t, he’d still try to focus on your gains instead of your assets, though it would be a lot easier to let his gaze stray down if you weren’t currently paying him to train you.

That will be over soon enough, and he’ll be able to do the one thing he’s been dreaming of since he first got to know you - ask you out on a date.

Sure, he’s dreamed of other things with you, things that include naked bodies and messed up sheets and ruffling the perfect image you always seem to maintain. But before any of that, he really just wants to take you out on a date.

He’s already got the perfect place in mind, his favorite spicy stir-fried pork joint, and he knows exactly what he would wear and exactly what he would say.

Things like:

“So, did you know that I can squat your bodyweight?”

“I also have my own apartment.”

“I’m great with kids, I used to be a kindergarten PE teacher!”

Before any of that, he says, “Great work, Y/N, I’ve really enjoyed watching you grow over the past six months.”

You smile shyly and thank him, saying that you never would have picked up the weights if it weren’t for him encouraging you. He doesn’t know that that’s true, you seem to be someone who can do anything once you’ve got it set in your mind, but he’s happy to accept your gratitude nonetheless.

He’s even happier as he walks with you to the front desk of the gym, knowing that at this point, you’d usually say goodbye and, “See you next session.”

This time, he sidles up a bit closer to you than normal, watching as you fill out the end of service survey and waiting for the right moment. You dot your last i, cross your last t, and hand over the paperwork with a smile. That’s when he strikes.

“So… what are your plans now?” He asks as casually as he can, looking around the gym before letting his eyes meet yours apprehensively.

“Taking your teachings and trying to work out on my own, I guess,” you say with a shrug, your gaze darting between his face and his pecs.

“Well, just because I'm not your trainer anymore doesn’t mean you have to be alone. We could always work out together,” he offers, continuing, “We could even go grab something to eat, if you wanted. I know a place with the best spicy pork you’ll ever eat.”

His heart pounds, every muscle in his body tense as he waits for your response.

“Really? I didn’t think we’d get to keep in touch after the contract ended.”

He can’t tell how you’re feeling from your voice, can only go off of the interactions he’s had with you in the past and the soft expression on your face as he formulates an answer.

“That’s usually how it goes,” he agrees. “But I… I want to see more of you. I don’t want this to be the end.”

You light up, a sweet smile stretching your lips as you bounce in your sneakers in the cutest expression of excitement he’s ever seen.

“Could we go get that spicy pork now?” You ask, before the sweat has even cooled on your skin.

And he can’t feel anything but happiness, can’t say anything but, “Yeah, yeah, we can. Let me bring the car around.”

The date is everything. Conversation flows the whole time, alternating between you getting so excited to tell him something you almost can’t pace yourself and him getting so excited to respond he almost can’t stop from saying, “Hey, while we’re at it, be my girlfriend and maybe also marry me?”

He learns more about you, about what you get up to when you’re not in the gym, where your interests lie and how you like to live, and you learn more about him. You learn about his time in the Marines and Geonwoo and all that happened before he decided to put boxing on the backburner. You learn everything, and you tell him everything, and by the time your plates are empty and your stomachs are full, he feels like he knows you inside and out.

He wants to know you better though, wants to really know you, in every sense of the word. And the only way to do that is to ask you back to his place. Sure, he only has a twin bed, and sure, his apartment is messy as all hell, but he wants you to see him as he is, and this is the first step.

“Do you think maybe you’d want to… come back to mine? No pressure, of course, I just don’t want to say goodbye yet.”

You beam, breathe, “Let’s go,” and stand gracefully, pushing your chair in and fixing your chopsticks when they fall off the plate. He leads you from the restaurant to his car, his hand tingling at his side with the desire to tangle his fingers with yours. He pulls the passenger side door open and stays until you climb in, closing the door and jogging around to his side when he hears your seatbelt click.

The drive is short, his apartment isn’t far from the spicy pork place, and all he can think about on the way there is resting his hand on your thigh.

He doesn’t feel that bold yet, so instead he holds your hand as he tugs you up the stairs to his apartment, his heart racing in his chest as he unlocks the door and ushers you inside.

He intends to give you time to look around but you don’t seem to need it, stepping into his space and making him gasp before he reminds himself that he’s a Marine and he can adapt to anything, including having you so close he can feel your breasts pressing against his chest.

His hands settle on your hips, holding you to him as he leans in, his lips just a breath from yours. He can almost feel you, almost taste you, and it’s taking everything he has to hold himself back.

He doesn’t want you thinking this is just a hookup though, that all he wants you for is your body, the body he’s been working out for six months.

“I really like you, can I kiss you?” he breathes, grinning when you murmur back, “I really, really like you, Woojin. Please do.”

That’s enough for him to press his lips to yours in a kiss that only gets deeper and deeper, one that warms him from his head to his toes, one that stokes the fire that’s been simmering in his belly since he first set eyes on you.

He swipes his tongue over your bottom lip and delves inside when you open up for him, his tongue tangling with yours as you sigh into his mouth, the sensation making him want to kiss you for all the rest of time.

He has other plans though, plans that include laying you out on his twin bed and showing you his hands are good for something other than spotting you. So he walks you to his bedroom, keeping his lips locked with yours and spinning to press you up against his bedroom door as soon as he has it closed.

His hands are firm on your hips, his grip tight as he all but pants into your mouth, his need pulling him even closer to you until his hardening cock is digging into your stomach. He knows you can feel it but he doesn’t care, can’t care about anything but keeping his lips on yours and your body under his palms for as long as you’ll allow it.

“Bed,” you gasp against his lips, pushing at his chest with hands that linger, that trail down to drag over the ridges of his abdomen before you remember your goal and use some of your newfound strength to push him away and onto the bed. The mattress dips with his weight and drops further when he pulls you into his lap, spreading his legs to make a good seat for you as he leans back on his hands and stares.

You’re so gorgeous on top of him like this, your confidence shining through in the way you drag your hands over your body, pushing your tits up and together in your tight sports tank. He fights to keep a whine from escaping at the sight of you, but you’re a fucking wet dream come to life and Woojin is weak.

Entranced as he is, he still snaps to attention when you go still as a statue on top of him. There’s a look of alarm on your face, and he immediately sits up and asks, “What’s wrong? Do you want to stop?”

“Um, nothing is wrong, per se. It’s just that… I got all sweaty earlier and it would be one thing if you were sweaty too but you’re not so I’m-”

“We could do it in the shower!” He rushes to accommodate you, cringing at the way he cut you off and whispering, “Sorry.”

“No, no! The shower works!” You agree with a grin, sliding to one side and biting your lip as your center brushes over his thigh. He shudders under you, his eyes slipping closed at the heat between your legs, and he has to take you by the hips and lift you off of him to stop himself from dragging you right back into his lap.

Instead, he directs you to the bathroom, gets the shower going, and settles back against the sink, pulling you into his chest and leaning in for another kiss. You meet him in the middle, pressing your lips to his and winding your arms around his neck. One of your hands slips into his hair and he moans when you scratch your nails against his scalp, then you take a handful and pull.

You don’t tug hard, just enough to give him a full body shiver, but it still makes his hips buck into you without his permission. The pressure feels so good on his aching cock, and he can’t help but grind into your stomach as your lips move against his.

Steam fogs up the bathroom but neither of you notice, too wrapped up in each other to realize the shower is more than hot enough for you to get in. He kisses you and kisses you and kisses you until his lips are sore and his dick is too, and when he finally finds the will to break away from you, he’s utterly bewitched.

Your lips are swollen, your beautiful eyes closed, and there’s a glow to you that makes him want to drop to his knees and make you shine. But he can’t forget why you stopped him before, and the last thing he wants to do is make you feel self conscious, so he nods his cloud-filled head to the shower and lets you go when you step away.

You undress in tandem, Woojin’s eyes involuntarily snapping to your breasts when your top clears your head. They’re yours so they’re perfect, and it takes all the restraint he has not to lean in and see how much of one he can fit in his mouth. Then his eyes drop to your cute tummy, and your squeezable hips, and-

Fuck, oh fuck. You’re taking off your yoga pants and your panties come right with them, and before he knows it, you’re completely bare before him. He’s so distracted, he stops all movement, just gazing at your goddess-like form as if he’ll never get to look at you again.

You step closer to him, tuck your fingers in the waistband of his gym shorts and boxer-briefs, and ask, “Can I?”

“Please,” he breathes, his eyes finally on your face again as you pull his lower layers off, his rock hard cock springing up between your body and his. You sink to the floor along with his clothing, your head tilting to keep eye contact as you settle on your knees.

“Baby, you can’t. I’ll fucking cum,” he begs, shaking his head and cupping your cheek when you pout.

“You can’t get hard again? For me?” You flutter your eyelashes at him and let your tongue sweep over your kiss-swollen bottom lip, and he’s a goner.

“Fuck, for you? Of course I can,” he gives up and gives in, watching as your lips stretch in a pleased, slightly evil grin before you press them to the head of his cock in a soft kiss. The sight you make is one he’ll never forget, his eyes trailing over you and committing every inch to memory, until they land on your knees.

You’re kneeling on the cold tile, and they’ll probably hurt when you stand up, and Woojin just can’t have that.

“Hold on, babe,” he says, shuddering when you take hold of his cock and lick a thick stripe up the side.

You pull away, letting go of his dick and staring up at him with concerned eyes.

He turns around and dips into the cabinet for a towel, laying it out and gesturing for you to rest your knees on the fabric instead of the floor. Seemingly endeared, you smile sweetly and shuffle onto the towel before grabbing his cock and swallowing half of it in one go.

A sharp moan punches out of his chest and he has to brace himself against the counter, the wet heat of your mouth enough to make his head spin and his knees weak as you start to bob up and down on his dick. This feels better than any other head ever has, and maybe that’s because it’s been a while, but he thinks it’s because it’s you.

You, who brought him protein rich desserts when he mentioned missing sweets. You, who held his hand when he got teary talking about everything he and Geonwoo went through. You, who regularly makes him laugh so much his stomach hurts.

You, the only person he’s wanted for the last six months.

And now he finally has you, and you’re on your knees for him, and his cock is halfway down your throat.

Woojin is the luckiest bastard on this planet.

“You’re so good, baby. You make me feel so fucking good,” he whines, aching to let his head fall back and his eyes fall closed. He wants to watch you more, needs to see your lips stretched around his dick as you move up and down on him.

You start to stroke what you can’t fit in your mouth, your hand warm and soft on him and also, unfortunately, exactly enough to push him over the edge. He was so captivatedby you that he didn’t even notice he was getting close, and just when his dick starts jumping and leaking precum in your mouth, he tries to pull back.

Only you don’t let him, tightening your grip on his cock and sucking harder, your watering eyes staring into his as you moan plaintively.

“You want me to cum in your mouth? Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he groans, letting the wave overtake him and not even trying to stay afloat.

There’s a roaring in his ears and a rush of pure bliss when he cums, his balls drawing up tight as they start to empty in your throat. You swallow around him, moaning like you love the taste, and Woojin can only whimper in response, the vibrations echoing throughout his entire body and intensifying every sharp burst of pleasure.

When it’s over, his voice is hoarse and his head is vacant, every rational thought sucked out of his brain through his dick. He wonders if you swallowed them too.

Before he gets too sensitive, you release him and sit back with a satisfied smirk, licking away any traces of white left on your lips. He wants to drop to his own knees and lay you out on his bathroom floor but he has a sneaking suspicion you’d think that’s unsanitary so instead, he hauls you up to stand in front of him and kisses you until you’re as brainless as he is.

He can taste himself but he’s not afraid of that, maybe even likes it when it’s on your tongue, and just when he’s starting to get carried away, he remembers the mission here. He needs to get you in the shower so you can feel comfortable, and he only has so much hot water to waste.

So he walks forward, holding onto your hips to steady you as you take step after step backwards before opening the door and murmuring into your mouth, “Step up, there we go,” as he helps you over the threshold of the shower.

It feels like a different world in the small, steamy cubicle. It’s barely big enough for Woojin alone and with you, there’s even less room, but he doesn’t mind when it means he gets to feel your naked body pressed against his. He’s not sure if you want to get your hair wet so he blocks the spray for now, the hot water pounding on his back like a massage.

“Can I wash you?” He asks, knowing it’s an intimate request and hoping you’ll say yes.

You nod and smile softly, and he switches the handheld on so he can control the stream of water. He lets it lay at your feet as he lathers up his hands and starts to trail them over you methodically, beginning with your arms and moving inward. His cock twitches when he glides his hands over your tits, the image of them all soapy and shiny something he wants embossed on his brain for the rest of his life.

He presses a kiss to your stomach before he covers it in body wash too, slowly dropping to his knees as he travels down your body, leaving nothing untouched. Your eyes are closed but he can tell you’re relaxing, the remaining tension in your bones seeping out as he washes down your legs, gently scrubbing one foot and then the other.

He doesn’t have anything unscented to wash your more delicate parts with so he rinses the rest of your body with the handheld before offering it to you and turning to give you some privacy.

He knows you’re done when he feels you press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your head against him in a hug. He switches off the handheld, folds his arms over yours, and starts to sway on his feet, until the water hitting him suddenly turns to ice.

“Shit,” he swears, fumbling to turn the shower off and failing only three times before he finally gets it. You giggle at his back, shielded from the chill thanks to his big body, and take the opportunity to rub your hands up and down his chest to both warm him up and feel him up.

He’s appreciative of both, but the cold shocked him out of the slow, syrupy state he found himself in and now all he can think about is getting his mouth on you. He turns in your arms, reaches for the towel he keeps hanging off the shower door, and wraps it around you, carefully patting you dry before picking you up and stepping out of the cubicle.

You gasp when he lifts you, shiver when he sets you down on his bathroom counter, whimper when he sinks to his knees again. Sucking kisses up your inner thighs, he whispers, “I wanna taste you so fucking bad, will you let me?”

“Yes, Woojin, yes,” you breathe, spreading your legs to make room for him as he lifts one thigh then the other onto his shoulders. He doesn’t waste any time, licking right into you and groaning at the arousal he finds. Sure, you’re a little damp with water but water doesn’t taste this fucking good, doesn’t coat his tongue like this or elicit a sigh of pleasure or make his dick hard. That’s all you, and all he can do is cover your cunt with his mouth and breathe you in.

In his dreams, he gets right to making you feel good, brings you up to the edge of an orgasm with ease, pushes you over before you even get your hands on him. Now, he’s selfish. He wants to taste every square centimeter of you, wants you dripping down his chin, wants to lick his lips tomorrow and still find traces of your wetness. It should be about you but he just can’t help himself when you’re this hot, this drenched, this delicious.

It must still feel good though, because you’re moaning and squirming and clutching his hair, getting wetter and wetter by the minute. His tongue dips into your entrance and he’s in paradise, your taste so much headier at the source. He can feel your walls squeezing down on his tongue, feel how bad you want to cum for him, and finally, finally, he overcomes his greed to put you first.

One of his arms wraps around your thigh so he can reach your clit with his fingers, starting to rub circles into the swollen bundle of nerves as he shoves his tongue as deep inside of you as it can go. He fucks you with it, swirling over your clit all the while, until you begin to tremble and gasp above him. You must be getting close, so he doesn’t change anything except for involuntarily moaning into you on repeat, the taste and texture of your pussy pulling sound after sound from him.

He’s getting hard again, he can feel it, feel the blood rushing from his head down to his dick, feel his cock resting against his thigh as it grows, feel his balls start to fill up as he slides his tongue in and out of you. Already, he’s thinking about replacing his tongue with his cock, but he wants to make you cum first because you deserve that and more, damnit.

You deserve softness and sweetness and love, and maybe that’s what this is for Woojin, maybe he’s soft and sweet just for you, maybe he is in love. The thought draws a sharp groan from him, his heart clenching with the idea of loving you and actually getting to have you like he’s wanted for half the year.

It’s enough to push you over the edge, or perhaps it’s the quickening circles he’s rubbing into your clit, or the tongue that won’t stop spreading your walls. Either way, he feels your orgasm like it’s his own, his cock twitching and jerking and leaking precum as you shake and whimper and gush onto his face.

He only pulls away when you drag him by the hair, sparking a whine from deep in his chest both at the sensation and at the thought of leaving your perfect cunt.

Then you whimper, “Fuck me, Woojin. I want you inside of me.”

Fucking hell.

He springs to his feet, his dick bouncing with the movement, and steps into the space between your thighs, pulling one of your legs up around his waist as he presses closer. “Do we need a condom?”

“I’m on birth control and I tested negative at my last checkup.”

“Same. Well, not the birth control but the-”

“Woojin, please, get in me. We’ve waited long enough,” you beg, your hips wiggling and your arms wrapping around his neck.

“Right, right, right,” he gasps, lining himself up with your entrance and starting to push inside.

He’s so fucking thankful you made him cum before because there’s no way he would have lasted, even through this. The feeling of your cunt forming to him, wrapping around him, hugging him, is enough to bring tears to his eyes, and when he finally bottoms out inside of you? It’s like nothing he’s ever felt, like heaven and sin and pure indulgence, and instantly, he knows no one else will ever feel this good, will ever make him feel this good.

“How is it?” He forces out, holding his breath as he holds himself back, needing to hear that you’re alright before he lets himself go.

“Fucking perfect. God, I’m so full,” you cry out, your muscles clenching around him as you adjust to his thickness.

“Can I move?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

The threat shouldn’t make him hotter but it does, makes him want to pull out and bend you over the counter so he can really pound into you. So he does, drawing his hips back and pulling out of you completely, much to your obvious and vocal disapproval.

You quiet down when he picks you up off the vanity and spins you around, draping the hand towel over the sharp edge of the linoleum so it doesn’t dig into your hips as he presses his palm to the center of your back and pushes you down.

You go easily, arching your back and spreading your legs for him when he drags the head of his cock through your folds. He didn’t expect you to get so pliant when he bent you over but he’s absolutely not complaining, especially when you’re making it even easier for him to fuck you brainless.

He sinks back in, filling you in one thrust, and takes hold of your hips for leverage as he begins to pound into you. The sounds are obscene, the slapping of skin on skin and squelching of his cock pushing into your tight, wet cunt making his whole body flush. He can’t look away from the place where you’re connected, where he’s splitting you open, where you’re letting him inside of you, until he realizes he can watch your face in the mirror.

He looks up, only to find you already watching him, your eyes heavy lidded and full of heat. Your eyelashes are fluttering just like your pussy is, and little gasps and moans escape your parted lips with every buck of his hips into yours. He feels himself melt, feels all of his strength and willpower and restraint evaporate away as he gazes at you, at the masterpiece you are.

He wants to talk to you but he can’t find the words, can’t make his mouth form around anything but your name, can’t force his vocal cords to make any sound but broken moans and whines. He lets his eyes do the talking instead, locking them with yours in the mirror and letting you see everything.

The gentleness, the passion, the love he feels for you, he lets you see it all, and as he fucks you into the counter, he starts to see the same things reflected back at him in your eyes. It seems neither of you need words, six months of working together allowing you to read each other like a book.

He hopes you can read how fucking close he’s getting, because it’s not like he can warn you. All he can do is wriggle a hand between your hips and the counter and get his fingers on your clit, thrumming the little bud as he starts rutting into you, too desperate for your pussy to even think of pulling out enough to thrust.

He pushes up on his toes so he can angle his cock down, grinding the head into your g-spot and hoping it’ll all be enough to push you over the edge. He’s gasping for air now, his head spinning and his dick like steel inside of you as he starts to leak precum. You shudder beneath him and tense up, one continuous moan leaving you as you break for him.

The second your walls seize up around his cock, he’s a goner, his hips jerking into yours as he fills you with spurt after spurt of white hot cum. He can’t look away from your face even as stars dot his gaze, utterly entranced by the way your perfect mouth has fallen open and your beautiful eyes have fallen closed.

You’re still clenching down on him, still so tight and hot and wet that he can’t help but fuck his cum deeper into you, his hand on your hip pulling you back onto his slowly softening cock. He’s so sensitive, the pleasure of it almost burns in his stomach, but the way you’re squeezing him makes him wonder if you could go one more time.

His fingers paused on your clit while he was cumming so he starts up gentle little circles, feeling you writhe and buck in overstimulation as he builds you up again, sinking in deep and staying there while he rubs harder and faster. His voice finally comes back to him, and once he starts talking, he finds he can’t stop.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this, full of my cock and full of my cum.”

“God, I want to have you all the time, I just wanna do this forever.”

“Six months I’ve been jerking off to the thought of you and now here we are, I can’t fucking believe it.”

You just whimper and whine beneath him, your swollen clit throbbing under his fingertips as he fucks you into one final orgasm, your clenching walls and sweet sounds enough to pull the last little bit of cum from his aching cock.

He pulls out slowly, the heat and pressure of your cunt too much for his hypersensitive dick, and his eyes finally leave your face to watch as his cum spills out of your stretched pussy. It’s a gorgeous sight, one he’s only ever dreamed of, and before he knows it, he’s sinking down to his knees again, spreading your cheeks with his hands, and burying his tongue inside of you. He avoids your clit, doesn’t want to push you too far, but his tongue is relentless as he licks and sucks and slurps his cum out of your entrance. There’s no hot water left anyway, he figures his mouth is the best way to tidy you up.

You’re trembling, your face pressed into the arms you have folded on the counter, when he finally deems you clean and rises to his feet. He rubs your back with a gentle hand, leaning down over you and murmuring, “Let’s get you to bed, hm? It’s small but you can sleep on top of me.”

You nod but don’t speak or move, and Woojin grins a proud, pleased little smile when he realizes you’re waiting for him to help you. He lifts you with care, turning you around so you’re facing him and crouching to pick you up bridal-style so he can carry you to his bedroom. His heart swells when you rest your head on his chest and curl your hand up on his pec, dropping into sleep before he even gets to the bed.

Later, he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend. For now, he’ll let you rest.

And if you happen to become his new favorite weighted blanket, he’ll just keep that to himself.

AN: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays 💖

Posted first on my Patreon

My Masterlist

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[miss-noo-na]

Strange Love (Part 1)

Title: Strange Love

Featuring: Johnny (NCT) x Reader

Rating: Mature. Future updates to include BDSM themes

Summary: Your job is finally recognizing all the hard work you’ve been putting in, and assigns you to a special project that includes travel. The only downside is that you have to team up with your cocky co-worker. In the process you learn about his predilections and what he does to relieve stress in his downtime, and how they might come to benefit you, too. 

The copier spluttered and buzzed as it spit out page after page of the same report. Sometimes it jammed and you had to tap it just right for it to start up again, you knew it like clockwork now, not even having to shift your stance or your gaze to do it. You had made friends with the piece of equipment ages ago, this thing was older than some of the new hires in the office.

You had been there for 3 years now, but it felt much longer. You found the job out of college because of its promised upward mobility and company culture, and after a while neither one of those things mattered anymore. You had only had one partial raise and “company culture” really just meant there was cake in the break room once a month.

You didn’t know why you stayed. Actually, you did, but didn’t want to admit it to yourself. You were afraid.

You had always been timid, knowing what you wanted but too anxious to go after it. You could be stubborn and even stand up for yourself, but often you fell by the wayside, worried about making too much of a fuss. You developed a fine-tuned talent for painting on a smile, seeming agreeable, then grumbling under your breath and to your friends over drinks. You would convince yourself things would change, but they never did. 

When the copier stopped with its signature grinding halt you snapped out of your reverie, piling the papers in arm to hand them out around the office. Busy-work, per usual.

When you stepped out of the room you immediately looked across the hall to the windowed room of your manager, able to hear his muffled laughter, head tossed back as he slapped his hand on another mans back. Your eyes set into a narrow glare at the other person.

John Suh had only shown up 9 months ago and he was already 2 positions ahead of you, with his fancy degree and family connections. They liked to pretend they didn’t play favorites but it was obvious from the moment he stepped in the door that he had something the rest of you didn’t, connections and his daddy’s money.

Plus, there was just this air of overconfidence he carried that enraged you. Not only did he have an advantage, he liked to act like it was his savvy business sense and charm that got him there. 

The most annoying part of all is that no one else felt the way you did.

He was clearly attractive, the only person in the office who didn’t get shit from the boss for growing his hair out or not buttoning up his jacket. Every girl in the office from the 19 year old receptionist to the 67 year old accountant practically swooned when he talked to them. This, of course, made you look like the asshole to your colleagues. They called you distrustful and told you to be a little more open-minded, but you didn’t have patience for nepotism and unearned praise.

If you thought about it too long, the frustration built up and where did that leave you? You went about your business for the afternoon, intent on ignoring his presence like you usually did.

As you neared the manager’s door, he suddenly poked his head out and smiled at you.

“Hey there, can I grab you for a second?”

And then he disappeared inside, through the glass you could see him speak to your nemesis once more. Your stomach dropped, what could he possibly need? You set the stack down on your desk and returned to the office, clearing your throat as you entered since they were chatting and laughing like you didn’t exist.

“There you are, have a seat.” He said as he went to his desk, gesturing to the chairs in front of it. You were surprised when John took the seat next to yours, but chose to pretend he wasn’t there.

“I’ve had this project brewing for a few months now, and whilst going over potential candidates your name came up.”

Project? Your name? 

“You’ve been loyal to the company for years, your workflow looks great, and I’ve never heard a fuss out of you. You’re honestly a prime worker for this position.”

“What position would that be, sir?” You asked gently, knowing he had a habit of going on tangents if you let him. Plus, all of this was lip service you’d heard since you started. They were always quick to praise, but never do anything that actually showed that it mattered in a way that helped you. Empty compliments.

“This is our main office, and the system we have here is the best in the business, but unfortunately that’s not the case in some of our smaller offices. They’re falling behind and their technology and practices aren’t getting updated in a timely fashion. Basically, they need help, and that’s where you two come in.”

Two? You peered over at the man next to you from the corner of your eye, and quickly back again.

“I’m not sure I follow. Aren’t these offices spread out all over the country?” You asked.

“Precisely. We’ve opened up a position for trainers, someone who is free to travel and can help these places get set up. You would spend about a week or less in each place, we would make sure you have proper accommodations and a stipend, of course.”

It dawned on you what he meant and you felt a mix of emotions. It was about time someone realized your potential and the hard work you had been putting in, even if you were still confused on how your name got brought up. You didn’t have any problem traveling, there was no relationship or particular thing that kept you tied down in one spot.

“Oh, and the 30% raise.”

You perked up at that, then quickly tried to make yourself appear neutral again.

“That does sound enticing.”

“What do you say? I think you both would be great at it.”

You fully looked over now, and made brief eye contact with the man who offered you an encouraging smile.

“We would be working...together?”

“It’s a two-man, excuse me, two-person job. I can tell you now I think you would make an excellent team.”

You didn’t even know him like that, and everything you did know you weren’t particularly fond of.  You had maybe spoken a handful of words to each other, in passing.  Things like “excuse me” and “here’s that report you needed.” The idea of having to spend so much time around him didn’t sit well with you, but how could you pass up such an opportunity? it was strictly business, it’s not like you had to be best friends.

“Okay, then.” You nodded and forced an uneasy smile. 

“Fantastic! I’ll draw up the paperwork tonight and get you on your schedule within the week. In the meantime, I encourage you two to get to know each other.” 

You left the office, intent on going straight back to your desk, but your new partner stopped you.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced, I’m John, but everyone just calls me Johnny.”

He stuck his hand out and you had to fight the urge to cringe, there was no way in hell you were going to call him that.

You were cordial, shook his hand and told him your name, avoided eye contact. Being this close to him you didn’t realize until now how tall he was.

“You want to grab some lunch with me? My treat, we can hammer out some details.”

“I’m a little busy this aftern-”

“It’ll be fine, the boss insists we form a game plan and I know a spot around the corner.” He cut you off and started to walk away as if you already agreed. You wanted to fight him on it, but that wasn’t the best way to start out a brand new position. You sighed and followed.

The “spot” was basically a sports bar, that was practically dead, save for a few people at the bar watching a baseball game. You sat at a table near the back and wished you could get a beer, but you still had a whole work day ahead of you.

“So it’s like, part trainer, part teacher, part IT. Do you have any experience in IT? I actually started out in computer science before I switched to business, my dad thought it was the best for my career path. I mean, I guess he was right because here I am.”

He was….different, than you thought he would be. You only saw him in the office, turning on his charm and worming his way into things. Here, he was talkative and friendly, and it was throwing you off-guard. The casual humble-brag about his background wasn’t making him anymore likable, though. 

“No, I majored in English.”

I swear to God if he says-

“English? Aren’t you already fluent?”

You closed your eyes for a second while his stupid laugh rang in your ears.

“Anyway, I think this is going to be an awesome opportunity for us. I mean, how lucky are we to get picked for this?”

“I wouldn’t call it luck.” You grumbled before taking a drink, not really intending him to hear it.

“What’s that?”

“It’s not luck.” You said as you met his eyes fully for the first time. “Not for me. I’ve worked my ass off for this company for years, it’s only luck for people who got a head start.”

You sank your teeth into your tongue just as the words left you, and you could see the smile fade from his face. You suddenly felt flush and thought about apologizing, but he spoke up.

“Ah, so you think I had a leg up?”

“I didn’t mean-”

He waved a hand and laughed. “It’s fine, I know everyone thinks that, you’re just the first person to say it to my face.”

You couldn’t tell if he was offended and playing it off, or if he was really this nonchalant about it. 

“Look, no offense, but I don’t think we need to be buddies for this to work. I would rather just get in the field and work things out from there.” You explained as directly as you could. 

“That’s fair.” He nodded, to your surprise. 

The small-talk ended and when he tried to pay for lunch, you insisted on giving your share. The rest of the day was uneventful, except for the twinge of guilt you had when you thought back on how you spoke to him.

When you got home, you collapsed on the couch next to your roommate, a graphic designer who worked from home and was always in her PJs. You envied her.

“Another rough day at the office, sweetie?” She asked, patting you on the head, condescending but still sincere.

“Remember that douchebag at work I told you about?”

“Oh, the cute one?” She asked with a smile, having seen him when coming to drop off some lunch for you once.

“Whatever, anyway.” You sat up to face her. “The good news is that I got a promotion to a position that lets me travel.”

“Hey, that’s great!” She beamed.

“The bad news is that we have to do it together.”

She looked to consider it for a moment before her lips curled into a devious smile. “On the road for work? Hotel stays? Working in close proximity? Ohh, this is like a spicy romance novel!”

“Ew, stop.” You scowled.

“Only if you stop pretending he’s not hot.”

“Someone can be objectively hot and I can still not like them or be attracted to them. He’s arrogant and he seems to think we’re on the same page somehow. He’s oblivious to his own privilege.”

“Okay, I get that, sorry for teasing you. But hey, this is the break you were looking for, right? Focus on the positive.”

“Thank you.”

She opened up her arms and you hugged for a long moment.

“Maybe while you’re traveling you’ll finally get laid.” She said suddenly into your ear, and you pulled back and glared at her.

“Sorry, sorry! I just know that lately you haven’t really been-”

You stood up from the couch as she spoke. “I’m going to my room now.”

“Let me know if you need help packing!”

You closed your bedroom door and sighed. She meant well, but she had a way of saying things so bluntly that it didn’t quite help. She was right about that, though. Your career wasn’t the only stagnant thing in your life. 

You hadn’t had a steady boyfriend in 2 years, and in that time had only experienced a sprinkling of dates that never went anywhere and the 2-3 times you randomly hooked up with someone to great disappointment. Frustrated was an understatement, and you knew part of it was bleeding over into your professional life. 

You didn’t expect to have any sort of passionate tryst while out for work, but maybe simply getting into a new scenery would make you feel better?

To Be Continued

#johnny suh #nct #nct scenarios #johnny scenarios #nct johnny #nct 127

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Tanana.”

This was super fun to write this morning. A little bit funny, and I always enjoy hurting Adam a little, accept in a fun way this time no angst.

Hope you guys like it :)

Just a little bit closer.

The small creature looks on innocently munching on a crop of moss. It has four large eyes, two on either side of it’s head, six legs and is about the size of a small to medium-sized dog. It has really long ears, and if it stays still long enough, it’s going to be my dinner.

I scoot closer over the rock arm raised to the low ready, the spear clutched tight in my right hand.

The creature lifts its head.

Shit, it must have heard me. In my panic, I make a decision out of haste and throw the spear. It goes wild and clatters across the stone. The Drev rabbit takes off, and I am left standing stupidly in the middle of the open field weaponless and looking like a jackass.

“Tsa din dasdarish darat?”

I nearly leap out of my skin, turning around to find Hijan standing a few meters behind me near a coiltree.

“Shit, hijan, do you really have to sneak up on me like that.” 

The old drev looks at me in amusement. I Know she doesn't understand most of what I am saying, but somehow I  think she still gets it.

“Zha deengan.” I say, one of the first phrases I learned how to use. Being able to say I’m hungry is very important in any foreign language.

She tilts her old wizened head at me, “tsa tin danehanish ee dengish?” You were going to kill and eat that?

I shrugged, “Yid zha deengan.”

She crosses her arms, a habit she’s picked up from me, “ene tsa deengan datadish zha dadee sa deeng datahaik.” IF you were hungry I would have given you food.

I sigh, she wouldn’t get it, but still she walks over and hands me a miss twist. I call them that because of their distinct shape, kind of purple and in a strange sort of spiral. When you dry them out they are crunchy like chips though not particularly salty.

I munch absently on the weird plant? Fungus? And she absently plays with my hair. I try to shrug her off, but she’s a lot like my mother in the way that she won't let me be. I am about 100% sure she thinks I am one of her Drevlings. Which has caused a bunch of interesting changes in my life as of recently, not one of which was her decision that I wasn’t colorful enough.

Apparently Drev see humans a lot differently than we do. They can see the way the UV light interacts with our skin. She describes thousands of little spots which turn into swirling stripes. When I asked her to describe the color she said it was similar to turquoise or blue, though I obviously can’t imagine it.

Makes me jealous as hell though.

However, she said my “Carapace” wasn’t colorful enough. When I asked her what she was on about she clearly meant my hair and my nails, which are made up of similar stuff to the Drev carapace.

Long story short, I now have green hair and nails.

Yeah yeah, laugh all you want, but whatever the hell she put in my hair is not coming out. And when I say green, I am not talking like a nice moss green or forest green. I am talking like the color you paint your new Lamborghini kind of electric green.

Not to say that I haven't had my nails painted before, but never this color, and never in tandem with bright flaming green hair. Don’t know why everyone associates me with the color green. I would say it was only my second or third favorite color. Either way, I look super weird as of late, green hair green nails, no shirt, no shoes, and a slowly expanding five-o-clock shadow.

You know I am not a big fan of beards, mostly not a big fan of them on me, but I forgot to bring a razor, so in that department I am kind of fucked.

I mildly wonder if she is going to make me dye my beard green when it finally grows in.

She makes me grab my spear, grabs me by the hand and drags me back towards the village. She doesn’t let go of my hand. I don’t try to fight her, she is stupidly strong, and despite being a grown ass adult, I am apparently her child now.

The other drev find her adopting me very, very funny, but at least now that she has they don’t call me dazhit anymore. The last time someone called me a bitch in front of her, she kicked the crap out of them. I thought it was pretty funny personally. They danced around the circle like a loon expecting her to be weak in her old age, and she just stood there then jabbed them in the throat with the butt-end of her spear when they weren’t expecting it.

I laughed so hard I cried.

Ever since, they have treated me with a little more respect. 

We make it to the village, and with one hand she pushes me off towards the training grounds as if to say, “Go join the other kids.”

I sigh and roll my eyes but go.

The last time I tried to skip out she almost had my hide.

I go at her bidding meeting up with the others who are around my height. Hijan watches sometimes, and she has made it very clear that the kids deserve to get the shit beaten out of them. I don’t like it much, but these kids don’t seem bothered when you knock them around. In fact, most of them like it.

I think our trainer is a bit mad that I can actually fight.

I smile to myself 

Now that I do fight, I am at the top of the class.

The kids think I cheat, difference is I have different training than they do, and a lot more experience in combat despite what the Drev seem to think.

“Tanana! Naktan ts adon.” Tanana, my nickname, or my drev name I guess means alien. Hijan doesn’t like the name much, so she calls me tsata which means gift. Personally I am pretty flattered she thinks that about me.

I walk into the circle at our leader's orders and Dark ‘the other kid’ steps into the circle across from me. He’s an ugly little shit, and I’m not just saying that. He’s a dick to me on most occasions. When our teacher isn’t looking sometimes I make fun of his coloring, that usually shuts him up. I should probably feel bad for making fun of a kid, but I really don’t. He's a dick and everyone knows it.

Problem is now he has a bit of a vendetta against me, and is pretty hell-bent on putting his spear through my throat.

Good thing we only fight in hand-to-hand combat these days.

“Aleeshazh!” 

The kid does not wait till the end of go before he is charging at me hands wide Some of these kids are under the impression that guarding your center is like…. Dishonorable or something. They would be wrong because even Drev now it’s stupid to come in arms wide open. However, at this point I’ll take what I can get.

I dodge past two sets of arms and come in sharply towards hims middle. He has reach on me, so I go in close and brutally aim for what I am hoping is his liver, if Drev have them. My single punch has him staggering back across the circle gasping.

The teacher does not look happy.

I feel kind of smug.

Of course the little brat won’t give up, I’ll give him that, he isn’t a quitter, and charges for me again.

He’s making this too easy, 

I wouldn’t call myself a martial arts master or anything in the slightest, but before he knows what’s happening, he’s on the ground with my legs across his chest. I pin his lower arms with my right leg squeezing his upper arm between both. I have tight hold of his wrist, and just as he begins to squirm, I slowly place upward pressure on his elbow by arching my hips upward.

If I wanted to I could snap the joint.

Damn I love a good arm-bar.

He squirms and squeals for a couple of minutes as I continue to apply pressure until the teacher eventually tells me to knock it off.

I let go and he frowns at me. He doesn’t approve, but there isn’t uch he can do. My move wasn’t against the rules or anything.

He looks at me for a long moment eyes narrowing at my unconcealed expression of pride, and a hint of smugness.

I can see he wants to wipe the look off my face, “zha jasti tsa jej atatchan teeya dzhalakat.”

I grin, “Of course I am too skillful for children. Surprised it took you so long to see that.”

He does the drev equivalent of a frown. I know he can understand most of what I am saying, unlike others, but I think it still annoys him when I speak English.

Tough luck bro, my mouth goes way faster than my brain, its one of my worst qualities. If it didn’t I’d speak Drev More, but for now it was going to take practice.

“Ene tsa ditan atatchan juhkee tsa tehish zheengat s dzhal.”

Well shit. 

His if you are so skillful than you can fight with the adults was not an encouraging statement.

I honestly hadn’t meant that to come out as dickish as it did, but now  I was definitely already regretting my decision to be a smug bitch.

Guess that is what karma does to you.

I see Hijan at a distance, watching as I am dragged over to the next training field. The Drevlings follow at a distance chirping to themselves excited to see me get my ass beat.

We come up over the rise just as one of the training circle is in session. 

Two Drev go at each other with spears so hard sparks are flying. Their feet cut tears in the moss as they push each other across the stone. As we come up one of them is hit in the head so hard they are knocked completely out of the circle.

“Dazhit.” I mutter

Our teacher and their teacher stop to speak at each other. I can see them staring at me pointing and speaking quietly with each other. 

The older class adjusts themselves and looks on in great interest.

I don’t know these guys well, but I am pretty sure I am about to know the butt of their spears pretty well.

I sigh and shoulder my own spear, which…. Is significantly shorter than everyone else’s.

I’m not self-conscious.

“Tanana daeen hajish.”

I walk over as ordered my spear still over one shoulder.

“Tsak nantan tarik.” Your new teacher 

I lower my head, “Tarik”

She seems amused and motions towards the circle, “Tanana ts adon. Zha nin tsa tehish darat zhegingi jastat.” get in the circle, I want to see what you can do.

Oh, great.

I do as told stepping into the circle as she calls one of her students forward. She’s a light colored Drev, the color of cream/orange rose petals. I am pretty sure the Drev would consider her pretty…. Did I mention that she’s at least two feet taller than me?

No

Well she is.

She rams her spear butt into the dirt, and I swallow hard.

The Tarik waves a hand and we begin to circle.

I hold my spear like they taught me, though I am much better at hand-to-hand combat. We test each other for a minute moving forward and back, watching each other’s guard. Of course, she strikes first though.

I dodge out of the way quickly, expecting to come in and wrap her across the back of the knees, but she spends around and blocks me at the last moment. We connect together so hard that my hands go almost immediately numb.

She brings the butt of her spear around, and I am just barely able to duck under it. She comes at me again, and I step back as the spearhead slices past my chest.

My eyes go wide as I stare at my almost evisceration.

I barely look up in time to block her fro the side.

The hit makes my bones hurt.

I flick my spear up trying to catch her in the face, but she knocks me away with impunity.

She has me backed against the edge of the circle.

She doesn’t expect me to make it out. Too bad I have seen way more action movies than she has. As she cuts over me, I slide under the cu on my knees skidding over the rock and past her into the center of the circle. 

She turns to find me and barley blocks my strike.

I’m doing pretty good.

This isn’t so bad.

That’s when the kid gloves come off, and she strikes me so hard and fast I can barely raise my spear to block her. A vicious second later she comes in with the killing blow, or the crippling one.

Did you know you can knock someone out by hitting them hard enough in the liver?

Yeah I didn’t know that either, apparently the body sense major trauma and is just like nah fam I am not about that life. The vagus nerve gets activated too.

So there I am lying on the moss and the dirt curled up in a ball trying not to vomit or pass out.

I can hear that little gremlin Naktan laughing in the background.

God I hate him.

And I am in SOOO much pain. I am pretty sure my liver has been ruptured pretty sure I am going to die right here on the face of the planet.

I groan, “Hijan… help…. hijan .”

Yeah yeah practically crying for my mother like a wuss. I know no need to point it out 

But guys, I am dying. Or at least I am pretty sure I am.

Luckily for me she shows up and eventually the others leave. I can feel her running a hand through my hair, which would be nice if I wasn’t pretty sure I was dying 

Turns out though, I wasn’t dying, I am just pathetic 

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - How A Star Is Born. ch.VI

A Hercules AU, founded by @evaroze, whom this fic is a gift for. I hope y’all like it!

ch.V - ch.VII

AO3 link

~~~~~~~~~~

The little sailboat gently glided along the river that would eventually pool into the sea. There, just as the river touched the vast salty body of water, there was a harbor that began the huge troublesome town of Thebes.

“Wow,” Dipper awed as he tied up the boat. “Is that all one town?”

“One town, a million troubles.” Stan quipped as he walked along the dock and his student hurried to catch up. “The Big Olive herself: Thebes. They say if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere.”

“Cool!” Dipper said as they entered the city. Never before had the farmboy seen so many temples and buildings clumped together, so many people in one place, so many speeding carts and horses and stray cats and the occasional mice that kept the cats fat and happy.

“Stick with me, kid,” Stan warned as they stopped with a group of people waiting to cross the street. “This place is dangerous.”

The horse-pulled carts came to a stop and some guy turned a red-hand vase so it showed a green walking man. They began to cross, but one cart sped by them and Stan had to dive on top of Dipper to push them both out of the way in time.

“Watch where you’re doing!”

“HEY I’M WALKING HERE!” Stan screamed back and made a rude gesture and he got up from Dipper, somehow miraculously getting a slight hint of a Latin accent. “See what I mean? Knuckleheads, all of them.”

“Then you should feel right at home.” Dipper sneered playfully, earning him a firm punch on the shoulder as they walked on.

A few minutes into town, after passing a shady conman that Stan saw right-through, a cute lady at a corner asking if anyone was wanting a good time, and a naked guy singing about accepting yourself, loving yourself, while waving around a dead chicken, the two men walked up to a fountain, taking notice of a group of people talking woefully.

“It was horrible.” A whiny troll-looking guy said as he rinsed his cap into the fountain, trying to get the soot off his clothes. “I lost everything in the fire. All of my beautiful vases and stone tablets.”

“Now were the fires before or after the earthquakes?” A big red-haired guy asked.

“They were after the fires.” A red-haired girl a few years older than Dipper answered with. “But before the flood.”

“Not to mention the crime-rate.” A skinny guy with a small mustache added in. “Seems every time I turn around, there’s some new monster running havoc!”

“1220 has got to be the worst year I’ve ever heard of.” The red-haired woman said as she kicked a rock harshly and crossed her arms over her chest. “Can’t we just move to Sparta, Dad?”

The entire time the locals were complaining, Stan was elbowing Dipper encouragingly and gesturing for him to go ahead. Dipper cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me.” When all the eyes were on him, he felt a little nervous, but he went ahead. “It seems to me that what you need is a hero.” He said confidently and puffed his chest out with his hands on his hips.

The crowd did not look impressed. “Yeah,” The big guy snorted. “And who are you?”

“Um, I’m Dipper.” The young man said, trying to keep his confidence up, but was failing. “But I happen to be a hero, and…”

The four laughed at him and Stan narrowed his eyes as the townsfolk had their doubts if this young man could possibly help them.

“Have you ever saved a town before?” The small troll-like man asked.

“Uh… n-no, not yet…”

“Or reversed a natural disaster?” The big guy asked.

“Uh… n-n-no, but…”

“Ugh,” The red-haired woman groaned. “He’s just another chariot chaser.”

“Don’t you knuckleheads get it!” Stan yelled, placing a hand on Dipper’s shoulder. “This kid’s the genuine article!”

The little ugly man narrowed his eyes and adjusted his thick glasses to get a good look at the old man. “Hey… isn’t that the fallen god that trained Achelles?”

Stan’s whole face turned red and he began to shake with anger. “Watch it, pal.” He growled like an angry dog.

“Stan…”

“Hey, you’re right, Toby.” The big guy said and laughed harshly. “Oh boy! I needed this! Some amateur hero trained by the worst god of existence!”

Stan let go of Dipper and began cracking his knuckles. “You wanna go, buddy, c’mon…”

“Stan, Stan!” Dipper had to use his god-like strength to hold his teacher back as it looked like he was going to pounce on the big guy who looked like he could rip a tree out from the ground if he wanted to. “He’s not worth it, let’s just go.”

Stan, still growing, allowed Dipper to lead him to a large set of stairs while the four walked away. Soon Stan swatted Dipper’s hands off of him and they sat to try to think.

Dipper, meanwhile, was thinking about what that guy had said. A fallen god? That may very well have only been a cheap insult for the Trainer of Heroes, but Dipper had first-hand experience in the matter. Gods can fall. Was it possible that someone who had practically raised him and trained him to be a hero so he could be a god again knew exactly what it felt like to be someone you’re not?

“Stan, wh-what those guys were saying…”

“Listen, kid,” Stan said tiredly and held his head. “You’re gonna hear some really bad stuff about me in this town, and some of it is true, but I need you to trust that everything I’ve ever done has been so that family sticks together, okay? I’m gonna get you to your twin, okay? I’m gonna help you become a true hero if it’s the last thing I do, okay? All I ask is that you trust me. Please.” And he looked up at the teenager heavily.

Dipper swallowed as he saw a million and one emotions in his eyes. After everything this guy has done for him and planned to do for him, Dipper decided that trusting him was the least he could do, so the younger of the two nodded, but their moment was interrupted by a cry for help.

“Help! Help, please! Help!”

“Pacifica?” Dipper muttered as he saw a lush amount of blonde hair try to make its way through the crowd. “Pacifica!” He stood and hurried to her as her eyes lit up at the sight of him and hurried.

“Wonderboy… Dipper, thank goodness! Outside of town, by the sea, this little boy was playing and there was a horrible rockslide! He’s trapped!”

“Quick, show me where he’s at!”

Pacifica grabbed Dipper’s hand, making his whole face turn red, and she led the way through town back towards the sea, north of the harbor and just below a mountain that led to Thebes’ Temple of the Gods. Stan quickly followed behind them and a few townsfolk decided to keep an eye for entertainment purposes mostly.

On the damp sand there was a rocky wall side from where the tide often comes in and forms a wall, separating the town from the ocean. Dipper could hear a boy’s cries coming from behind a rock and he hurried across the beach, leaving Pacifica, Stan, and the townsfolk on the sidewalk.

“Help! I can’t breathe!” The boy coughed and desperately pleaded, “Somebody call I-X-I-I!”

Dipper stood by the big boulder and said calmly, “Don’t worry, I’m gonna get you out.”

“Hurry, please!”

Dipper looked up at the giant boulder and took in a deep breath. This rock was huge, one of the biggest things he had ever had to lift, but if he could accidentally destroy half of his hometown, he can lift a boulder. Right?

He grabbed on from the bottom and struggled for a moment, but with gritted, deep breaths, and sheer determination (Stan’s calls of encouragement also helped tremendously), Dipper was able to slowly lift the boulder up from the tiny cave in which the white haired boy was trapped behind.

The boy ran out quickly and Dipper asked in a strained voice, “Y-You okay?”

“Yeah… J-Jeepers, mister.” The boy awed. “You’re really strong!”

Dipper smiled and said after he threw the boulder into the ocean, “Just try to be a little more careful, okay?”

“I sure will!” The boy replied as he ran off into the town.

Stan cheered and hollered, only stopping when he was coughing and he bent over a little to cough sharply into his fist. The townsfolk gave a small applause for him, only a little impressed, as the boy climbed up the side of the mountain and went into the mouth of a large cave, where he was met with Bill in his throne, sipping on live worms, and Pacifica, who sat with her legs dangling over the edge.

“Jeepers? Mister?” Pacifica sneered.

“I was going for innocence.” Gideon said as she changed back into his older self and sat next to Pacifica to watch the show.

“You both did good.” Bill said coldly. “I was really moved by your performances. Great opening act.”

Meanwhile, Stan was at Dipper’s side and patted him hardly on the back. “Great job, kid! They even applauded! Sorta, but still!”

Dipper heard something and turned to look out at the dark and dreary sea. Bubbles. “I-I don’t think that’s applause, Stan.”

Stan looked out at the ocean and saw a shadow form under the bubbles, and soon they were shocked to find a big green head emerge from the water with sharp teeth and small eyes, followed by a long neck and a fat body, the monster roaring like a horrible siren.

“St-Stan! What the heck is that!?” Dipper asked his mentor.

“The Gobblewonker!” Stan yelled as he pointed at the monster. He pulled out Dipper’s sword from his scabbard, put it in his hand, and ran back to the screaming crowd for safety.

“Let’s get ready to rumble!” Gideon cheered and Bill snapped his fingers to make a ringing bell appeared.

~~~~~~~~~~

Ford and Mabel were sitting on the front steps of their temple, having tea, as the young muse happily chatted and the aged god happily listened, but they were interrupted by Fiddleford’s wind-breaking running as he hurried up to his dearest friends and was short of breath.

“St-St-Stanford! It’s Mason! He’s battlin’ the Gobblewonker on the beach o’Thebes!”

Ford choked on his tea and had to spit it out. “WHAT?!”

Mabel punched the air. “Alright! He can take down that big dummy! I wanna see him do it!” And the young muse got up and started to run out of Olympus.

“Wait!” Ford called as he and his best friend ran after her. “Mabel, wait!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dipper slowly watched as the Gobblewonker’s neck positioned itself for attack, like an angry snake. This was no different than those garden snakes at the orphanage, right? The monster attempted to strike, but Dipper dodged swiftly on the beach. Again, and another dodge. Again, another dodge.

“That’s it,” Stan coached. “That’s it, kid, dance around, look for an opening.”

The Gobblewonker struck again, digging it’s sharp teeth into the sand, and Dipper was almost hit, but managed to spit out some sand and stand strong, unfortunately realizing a second too late that his sword was no longer in his hand, but lying behind him. Now having to multitask running the opposite direction and dodging a monster, as if this battle wasn’t difficult enough.

To distract it and buy some time, Dipper used his super strength and threw a huge rock at the Gobblewonker, who crushed it in his jaws while Dipper retrieved his weapon. He stood proud and ready to strike, but in one instant the monster engulfed the hero in it’s mouth and held its head up high to swallow Dipper like he was a pill.

Pacifica held her throat and cringed as the Gobblewonker licked his chops, but soon it was wincing, like it was in pain, and a gruesome scene of Dipper cutting the monster’s neck from the inside appeared before the audience and the Gobblewonker’s head and half its neck flew into the ocean, leaving red in the water and on his body.

“YES! THAT’S MY BOY, THAT’S MY BOY!” Stan cheered as the Gobblewonker’s body fell onto the beach with a loud splash and the dizzy hero fell to his knees. Stan was right by Dipper’s side and helped him up, lightly tapping his face. “Good job, kid, good job. C’mon, let’s getcha cleaned up.” And the old man helped his student get on his feet and shake away his dizziness from the acid that had been in the neck.

Up in the cave, Bill was turning red and shaking. Pacifica smiled, ready to see Gideon be burned to a crisp, but the young man was still, miraculously, perfectly calm.

“Gideon, your plan…”

“Bill, Bill buddy, relax.” Gideon rested his hands behind his neck as rain started to trickle down on the mortal world. “It’s only half time.”

The Gobblewonker’s body twitched behind the two men. They both turned and were very disturbed to find it standing up on its own and suddenly three heads emerged from the opened neck, ready to attack the hero again.

“HOLY HERA!” Stan yelled and ran aside to give the hero his chance.

Dipper backed away until his back was against the rocks, smiling. “Ha! You’re trapped in water, huh?”

The three-headed-Gobblewonker must have understood the young man and decided to prove him wrong, because the sea monsters climbed up out of the water and onto the same to better attack the human.

“Oh, jeez.” Dipper groaned before letting instincts take over and he chopped an incoming head off to dodge and get out of being cornered against the rocky wall.

Dipper allowed his adrenaline to take over and soon he was swinging at anything that came towards him. This, of course, was a bad idea and soon Dipper stood with his back to the sea at a thirty-headed-Gobblewonker, bigger and meaner and more powerful than ever before.

“WILL YOU FORGET THE HEAD-SLICING THING?!” Stan yelled from the sidelines.

Dipper swallowed as a clawed-flipper scooped him up and pinned him against the mountain side, all thirty heads getting closer and closer and ready to rip him apart limb from limb.

“C’mon, kid!” Stan cheered. “Use that big head of yours! C’mon!”

Dipper did some quick thinking, looking up at the mountain, and without a second to lose, he pounded his combined fists against the mountain on his left side, causing an avalanche. One by one the heads were crushed and more red stained the rainy beach, leaving only a fisted-up claw in the clear, unnoticed by the audience.

“NO!” Stan screamed and hurried to the rockpile. “C’mon, c’mon kid, stay with me. Stay with me!” The old man fell to his knees and started to move rocks out of the way, trying to find his student. “No, no, no! Please!”

Meanwhile, Gideon and Bill were smiling twisted smiles. “Hm, nice job, kiddo.” Bill said to Gideon. “You’ve redeemed yourself.”

“Told you it would work.” Gideon said calmly.

Pacifica looked down at the old man trying to get the young hero back with sad blue eyes.

“I… I can’t…” Stan panted under his breath. “I can’t lose…” But then he heard something that made him stop digging.

The fist was wiggling, finally noticed. The townsfolk were worried it was the Gobblewonker, still alive, and Stan stood ready to die trying to kill the monster that took his kid away, but everyone who was watching was beyond surprised to find Dipper priding the monster’s dead fingers off of him and standing tiredly with his clothes in rags.

Cheer erupted, everyone deaf to the yells of anger from Bill and the yells of pain from Gideon, or the dark cloud that appeared by the small cave as the three vanished.

The townsfolk yelled and celebrated and ran down to Dipper and Stan, but Stan was the first to congratulate the new hero, holding him in his arms and giving him noogies and yelling to the top of his lungs. “YOU DID IT, KID! YOU WON BY A LANDSLIDE! HAHA!”

And there, up in the dark rainy clouds, Fiddleford danced with Mabel cheerfully for Dipper’s first victory, leaving Ford standing there, mouth open, speechless with pride. “I… I can’t believe it… my boy… he…”

“I told you!” Mabel cheered and punched her uncle on the shoulder. “I was right, you were wrong! Looks like somebody has to sing the Ford Was Wrong Song!”

Ford chuckled and smiled down proudly at his nephew, who was now being carried away by the other humans. To congratulate him, Ford threw down joyous lightning bolts to dance among the jubilant rain.

Dipper caught the lightning striking the ocean and he smiled to himself, daring to believe that his family might be proud of him.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the Underworld, Gideon was on his hands and knees, weak from pain and whimpering. This was the fifth time he was being punished, and Bill wasn’t done. The young white-haired man looked up at his boss and pleaded. “Bill, I…”

With a snap of the triangle’s fingers, Gideon’s tongue burst into flame and the teenager cried out and clawed at his mouth. Bill glared maliciously as he snapped his fingers again and Gideon’s whole body was suffocated in flames. Again.

Soon a sad pile of burning flesh was at Bill’s feet slowly healing again. “First you couldn’t even turn both twins into mortals. Then the one left mortal you let live. And now he lives and kills off one of my most powerful allies for taking this dimension!” Bill snapped his fingers again, burning Gideon alive again, sentencing him to pain that would kill a mortal.

Halfway through healing again, Gideon whimpered through tears, “I can still kill him. He’s still mortal. He got lucky.”

“You better.” Bill said coldly. “You’ve got one year to kill Pinetree, and every time you fail, I’ll kill you again until either he’s dead or you wish you could stay dead.” And the triangle left his minion alone to cry on the floor and think of how he was going to kill the man destined to defeat Bill.

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[spainlibra4]

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[novadust86]

The Best Laid plans - ch3

Chapter 3: Summer from Hell

Harry lay on his bed atop the threadbear blanket, his head resting on a pillow that had lost all of its bounce as he stared up at the ceiling. He was not having a good day. Hell, he wasn’t having a good summer at all. After his uncle had collected him off the train the ‘summer of hell’ had started almost straight away, with Vernon informing Harry that his sister, the woman Harry had been forced to call aunt Marge, was at the house. Apparently, after something had gone wrong with her plumbing it had revealed that some emergency work was needed on her house, so while the work was being done aunt Marge had invited herself to stay.

This had not left aunt Petunia happy. His aunt had entered Harry's rose bushes in some local garden competition (he refused to call them aunt Petunia's rose's in his head as he was the one who did all the work before he started Hogwarts). Marge had brought her prized bulldog 'Ripper’ with her and Ripper seemed to be deeply offended by the flowers and was doing his best to defile them. Uncle Vernon had then taken great delight in telling Harry of the rules for the summer, as well as how he had told Marge that his “no good, pathetic excuse for a nephew” was so bad he had been sent to 'St Brutus’ school for incurably criminal boys’, and, specifically, that if Harry so much as hinted at anything else his uncle would make him regret it.

---ϟϟϟ---

Uncle Vernon pulled the car onto the driveway. The two got out of the car without talking only to find Harry’s ‘Aunt’ Marge standing on the doorstep. She was very like Uncle Vernon; large, beefy and purple-faced, she even had a mustache, though not as bushy as his.’*

She started in on Harry before he even got to the front door, “so your back are you?” Not even waiting for a reply, she continued on, this time to her brother, “why even let the boy out Vernon? Surely that 'school’ is the best place for him?” Her less than subtle emphasis on the word school left no doubt that she was referring to the ridiculous fabrication of his uncle. “Teacher's need time off”, Vernon replied gruffly as he opened the boot for Harry to retrieve his trunk.

“What's in the trunk boy?” Aunt Marge demand, obviously looking for something to criticize, “Oh...Um...just my school things. School uniform, homework, paper, pens...that sort of thing.” Harry replied, automatically concentrating more on getting the heavy trunk out of the car then having a less than pleasant conversation with his aunt. Marge mulled that over for a few moments, looking for something else to scold, but evidently coming home from a boarding school with luggage and homework was expected. So, Aunt Marge fell back on her favorite insult, which was also a favourite of the two Dursley adults. Namely, calling him lazy and questioning his work ethic. “Well, you best take your trunk up to your room! No excuses for not getting your homework done! At least while you are doing that you aren’t off trying to break into cars or whatever it is you do!”

Harry froze and looked at his uncle. He knew Vernon didn't want him to have his school things, he didn't want Harry to do his homework. But, most of all, he didn't want Harry to have access to his wand. Not that Harry's wand was in his trunk. After everything that had happened the last two years, he had owl ordered a wand holster, and as such his wand was stuck to his arm and hidden with a perception filter charm. “Don't go looking to your uncle for help, boy! Get that trunk upstairs now!” His uncle, now standing behind Marge, nodded and mouthed 'for now’. Harry guessed that he couldn't think of an excuse on the spot to lock Harry's trunk away and had decided to pretend it was perfectly normal until he could think up something that wouldn't leave his sister suspicious.

---ϟϟϟ---

After that, there had been the start of the whole thing with Hedwig. While Marge had accepted Vernon's excuse that at Brutus’ they required pets to teach the boys responsibility, she still complained that her bulldog Ripper didn't like birds and that he was ‘sensitive’. Sensitive was apparently code for 'evil little shit', at least that was Harry’s opinion. He’d taken Hedwig straight to his room and set up a perch for her by removing the bars from her cage. It was crude but serviceable.  He had just gone downstairs to ask Vernon if there were any old newspapers he could line her cage with ,(there were always some as his uncle was an avid reader of the Daily Express. Harry however, always remembered what he heard a comedian say about it once "well at least they are true to their advertising, the paper is daily and clearly written in a hurry), when there was a huge racket from his bedroom.

Ripper had snuck into Harry's room when Harry left the door open and was trying to jump up on top of the wardrobe where Hedwig had retreated to avoid the snapping jaws of her attacker. Harry grabbed the dog to pull it out of the room and away from his owl. He had been able to pull the dog out but had received a bite on his right arm for his trouble. The door now closed and Hedwig safe, Harry now turned his attention solely to keeping Ripper's teeth from ripping into him again. This was not as quiet he’d hoped, as evidenced by the three sets of feet thundering up the stairs.

Harry felt sick just thinking about their reactions. First up the stars had been his uncle, who just stood there watching. Marge came next and the bitch fucking laughed and encouraged the dog. It wasn't until aunt Petunia had seen the blood that she said anything. But, not surprisingly, it wasn't to protect Harry, no, she was more concerned about Harry getting blood on the carpet.

God, He hated it here.

Aunt Petunia threw a toilet roll and a Crepe Bandage at him and told him to make sure not to get blood everywhere. Harry retreated to his room and sat on the bed. He made two pads out of the toilet paper, one for each side of his arm, and held them in place with the bandage. His arm seen to, it was time to strengthen out the room. He reset Hedwig's cage, then set about the task of coaxing her down off the wardrobe. Seeing his friend so shaken, Harry held her close, "It’s Ok Hedwig, it's Ok. I promise I won't let him hurt you. Only a few more weeks before we can get out of this shithole."

---ϟϟϟ---

The next few weeks had been filled with cooking, cleaning, dodging his cousin (who’d arrived back from smeltings the next day), and trying to do something to help the roses survive Ripper. This was easier than it might have been, as the dog had stopped caring about the roses. Instead, the bulldog was constantly camped outside Harry door trying to get in at Hedwig. Harry had been bitten three times more by the dog so far and he seriously doubted it would be his last this summer.

If that wasn't enough, he was seriously missing Hermione. To be fair, he was missing any friendly contact. His friendship with Ron was strained and almost everyone else cared little for Harry, only for the-boy-who-lived, some mythical hero they’d built up to some impossible standard that no one could ever live up to, let alone a small, underwhelming and bespectacled boy. All this and the fact that Hermione filled both the role of best friend and girlfriend meant that Harry was feeling rather alone.

It hadn't helped that since becoming a couple the two of them had been practically inseparable, never spending more than ten hours away from each other, even if most of that time they were asleep. It wasn't entirely their fault; they eat their food in the same hall, went to the same classes, studied in the same library and relaxed and slept in the same tower. Even when they weren't working together or chatting they tended to be in the same space. The only real time they spent truly apart was when Harry was practicing quidditch (Hermione only went to games, not practices) or when Harry was forced to go to classes while Hermione had been stuck in the hospital wing, once from the polyjuice and once from that bloody great big snake.

Even when Hermione had been petrified he had made his way to the hospital wing each day, telling Hermione about the classes he had had that day, then reading more of her books to her on the off chance she could hear him. Staying till Madame Pomfrey kicked him out for the day. He still wasn’t sure if Madam Pomfrey let him stay for Hermione's benefit or his own. He definitely felt, well...not better, but less helpless as he sat there reading the ‘The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy’ series to her. Just thinking of Hermione in that state lead his mind to another dark place. He couldn’t believe that Hermione had had the answer in her hand and that he had spent days sitting next to it the whole time. That damned snake, he wanted to bring it back to life just so he could kill it again for what it had done. The thought of that it sent phantom pains through the crux of his right elbow, a remembered pain of the venom burning its way into his flesh.

God, he hated summer.

---ϟϟϟ---

July 31st 

Harry awoke on his birthday like it was any other day at Privet Drive, with his aunt banging on the door and telling him to go cook breakfast. Harry wasn't surprised if he was lucky no one would say anything about him now being officially a teenager. Then he could pretend they had just forgotten, instead of deliberately doing it to hurt him.

He finished getting dressed; pulling on a lumpy old pair of Dudley's socks that he had grown out of about two years ago, a ratty old pair of trainers that he had grown out of at about the same time. Then he was off to cook enough bacon and fried eggs to feed a small platoon, or just three Dursleys. Aunt Petunia would have just tea and toast with whatever spread she chose that morning, if she stuck to her pattern.

Harry grabbed a package of 24 slices of British back bacon from the fridge, laying out the whole pack on the grilling rack and starting them to cook. He set the largest cast iron skillet on the hob, adding what he considered an obsessive amount of lard to the pan and set it on low heat. He put four slices of bread in the toaster, two cans of beans in a tub in the microwave and filled the kettle to boil the water for tea and coffee. Aunt Petunia as always was the first to come down, and her tea was already in the teapot and her toast cooking when she sat at the table.

“Marmite.” No please, no thanks, just the one word. Not that Harry expected anything else as he grabbed the tar-like paste from the fridge, setting it next to the plate that was waiting for his aunt's toast. Soon everyone was down and the Dursleys were eating. Breakfast done, Harry made his way upstairs, finally able to take care of needing the bathroom and brushing his teeth. As he cleaned his teeth he smiled to himself, thinking of the lecture Hermione had given him on dental hygiene.

It was rather an interesting topic that showed the difference between Muggle and Magical cultures. Muggles couldn't really fix teeth, they could only add a hard substance to fake a tooth being there, such as fillings and false teeth. So muggles focused on prevention, pastes and brushes to stop there being a problem in the future. Magical folk, however, they just used charms to keep their mouths smelling and tasting fine. This did nothing to remove the problem though, but if a witch or wizard had a bad tooth that was easy enough to fix; just vanish the tooth and down a shot of Skele-Gro. 6 hours later and they have a new, perfectly healthy tooth.

Harry made his way back to the kitchen to clean up after breakfast and to see if there were any leftovers so that he could eat this morning. To his surprise, there were two pieces of bacon and a slice of toast. Hardly a feast but plenty for him. He cleaned up the plates and mugs and grabbed the plate with the toast and bacon on it to put it on top of the pile of dishes he was taking back to the kitchen.

“One second, Harry” He froze at Aunt Marge's words, hesitated for a second then turned back to her. She smiled at Harry, then took the bacon and folded the toast around it and fed it to the dog in her lap. She had done this on purpose, she had left the food there till he had seen it, just so she could take it away in front of him. Harry wanted to scream, he wanted to shout, he wanted to take the pile of dishes he was carrying and smash them over her fucking head. But, he knew that was exactly what she wanted. Instead, he did the only thing he could to strike out at her. He denied her the confrontation she wanted by smiling at her, somewhat viciously, “anything else Aunt Marge?”

---ϟϟϟ---

Later the same day

Aunt Marge definitely wasn’t happy with how things went at breakfast. She had been pushing all day to get a rise out of Harry, ramping up the pressure each time. Now the Dursleys were sitting down to dinner, again cooked by Harry. Dudley had had the brilliant idea to get at Harry; he’d asked for shepherd’s pie and treacle tart for dinner. This was probably Harry's favorite meal, and despite the fact that both dishes were of the classic British variety; namely heavy, rich, hot and very filling and an absolute godsend when it was cold and wet, they were being consumed in the totally unsuited summer heat. So they sat there eating Harry's favorite meal, while Harry hasn't had a bite of food all-day on this thirteenth birthday.

Then there was the dinner conversation he had to listen to, “You mustn’t blame yourself for the way the boy’s turned out, Vernon”, Marge said between shoveling meat and potatoes into her mouth, “If there’s something rotten on the inside, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” Harry's hands shook even as his face remained impassive though he longed to burn them with his anger, and magic. She wanted him to fight. He had to keep his cool. Don’t rise to it, “It’s one of the basic rules of breeding,” she continued on, definitely oblivious to Harry’s rising temper, “You see it all the time with dogs. If there’s something wrong with the bitch, there’ll be something wrong with the pup.”

How fucking dare she! She had never even met his mother, the woman who had literally given up everything, including her life, for Harry. Aunt Marge reached for her glass of wine, only to have the glass explode in her hand, the shards of glass cutting into her flesh. Harry watched as blood began to ooze from numerous small cut on the inside of her hand. Luckily, Marge just laughed it off, “Sorry about your glass Petunia. I have a strong grip. Let me just go sort my hand out. BOY! Clean up the glass, if even one shard ends up in my poor Rippy’s paw there will be hell to pay.

Her threat finished, she left for the upstairs bathroom, her hellhound in step behind her. As soon as she was out of sight, Vernon turned on Harry. “You dare use your abnormality to attack my sister!?” He was out of his chair and was pulling off his belt. “I di-didn't”, Harry stuttered, “T-that wasn't me.” The belt was in Vernon’s hands now, “BULLSHIT! I know your freakishness when I see it”, Harry had backed into a corner of the room trying to put as much distance between him and his raging uncle as the room allowed. Searing pain flashed over Harry's back and shoulder as the strip of black leather found its mark. Again and again, the blows fell onto Harry's left side, feeling like it was on fire as uncounted blood vessels where broken under the improvised whip.

Harry cowered in the corner, trying to react as little as possible to the beating, though some tears and pained moans still escaped from him. He had learned over the years that they were longer if he screamed. Then everything changed.

There was a loud screech of pain and everyone stopped. It wasn't Harry's scream. It wasn't even on this floor of the house and, it wasn't human. “HEDWIG!” The blood drained from Harry's face. Now he could see what had happened; Marge had broken the glass on purpose. She had done it so that Harry would be busy cleaning while she went upstairs and let Ripper into his room where Hedwig was sleeping.

Harry got up and tried to rush to the stairs, only to be grabbed by his uncle. His uncle opened his mouth to start yet another of his verbal tirades, though unfortunately for Vernon Harry was now too focused on his owl that he was no longer concerned with holding his power in check. As a result of delaying the desperate boy, Vernon was relocated to the far side of the room, where he suddenly found himself being reintroduced to his wall with a sickening pop and crack from his shoulder and arm.

Harry was up the stairs in a flash. He tried to push open his door, Hedwig's continued screechs calling him to help, but the door wouldn't open. He tried again but the door wouldn't budge. Then he saw it; Aunt Marge had locked one of the seven locks that were on the door, a relic of the last summer Harry had spent in this hellhole. She had also added a padlock. Harry's mind raged and his power responded, rushing out to unblock his path, exploding the door and some of the surrounding masonry that was keeping him from Hedwig.

If Harry had been paying attention, he would have seen Marge standing in the bathroom, the door wide open, watching. The sadistic women wearing the biggest shit-eating grin she had ever worn. As Harry pulled on the door to try and get in finding it locked she mouthed the words “got you”. Her triumph, however, was soon replaced by terror as at a gesture from Harry, the door exploded into shrapnel. Shrapnel that resembled matchsticks more than anything else and was suddenly filling the landing.

The sight that greeted Harry as the door disintegrated chilled him to the bone. Hedwig's pale white feathers were scattered around the room, her blood staining them, the ruby crimson standing out all the more due to the contrast. And there, in the middle of the room, a screeching Hedwig, her wing trapped in the jaws of her attacker.

Harry couldn't have held back if he tried, Hedwig wasn't just his pet and post owl. She was a magical creature and his familiar. And part of that bond was that his magic couldn't stand by and let her be hurt. While a more experienced wizard may have been able to direct the response more, Harry, with only two years of education under his belt, was just along for the ride. Harry felt the power in him flow, reaching out towards the dog, prying its jaws off the injured wing and freeing his friend. The offending mut was then thrown across the room through the door and into the opposite wall with a meaty thunk, where it slumped to the floor, never again to rise.

Seeing her prized bulldog stud die so suddenly cut through Marge's shock, fear and the rational parts of her brain. Marge charged at Harry, intending to hurt him for what he had done to her dog. But Harry still hadn't regained control of his magic yet. In fact, he was so worried about Hedwig he hadn't even tried. Hell, he was so worried about her, he didn't even know that he was being attacked. He would later find out that he had stuck his aunt to the ceiling with some accidental magic variation of a permanent sticking charm.

Harry now cradled his friend in his arms, tears freely flowing at the state of her wing. He stood, keeping Hedwig in his arms and just started walking, down the stairs, out the door, down the street. He had only a vague plan. Find a vet, get Hedwig to Diagon alley, there had to be someone there who could help. The problem was, without Hedwig he couldn't call for help from anyone. He had little Muggle money and he was down to his last 5 gallons till he got to Gringotts. He would use the Muggle money to get as close to London as possible. Then he would try and get the rest of the way as fast as he could, even if he had to walk.

He really needed Hermione right now. Hermione would know what to do. There would be a public floo access she had read about or a post owl office that he could use to call for help. Hermione would also probably know a better place to take Hedwig than a magical pet shop. Right now he just needed help.

It was then that Harry's magic decided to pull one more trick out of its hat tonight. He felt the flow of his power as it surrounded him, then started crushing him into a ball. Not painfully, but definitely not comfortable. Later, when Harry heard about Apparition training and the three D's, he would always add his own fourth; destination, determination, deliberation and lastly, desperation. He would also realize that he was incredibly lucky that all he left behind was his shirt, and not some part of himself.

That was how Harry appeared in the Grangers’ dining Room, covered in belt marks, bruising and dog bites. Nothing to hide it from the three sitting down to dinner, but an owl with a mangled wing and her blood that was covering him. Seeing the one person who he thought could help Harry relaxed, “Hermione.”

“Harry?!” With that one word from Hermione's lips, all the will and adrenaline that was keeping Harry going, allowing him to push forward despite the lack of food and heavy use of magic gave way and Harry's last act of will was to turn as he fell, ensuring that Hedwig would land atop him, not the other way around, as he slipped into unconsciousness.

---ϟϟϟ---

Author’s Notes

From now on, all flashbacks will be in italics, so that you’ll be able to see that it’s not at the same time as the story.

ok, I admit I hated myself a little when I had Harry made that promise to Hedwig knowing what was going to happen. I originally intended for ripper and marge to put up a stronger fight at the end of the chapter but this felt more right as I wrote it.

a few small parts are lifted directly from the prisoner of Azkaban

P.S props to anyone who can name the comedian who made the Daily Express joke I used.

chapters 1-45 are avalable on https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13294547/1/The-Best-Laid-Plans and https://archiveofourown.org/works/18862810/chapters/44770174

#harry potter #harry x hermione #harry potter fanfiction #harmony

[themurphyzone]

Absolutely Disastrous Ch 11

Ch 11: Milo’s First Gym Battle! The Unpredictable Substitute Gym Leader!

Classes ground to a halt whenever a gym battle took place. Every student and teacher in the school gathered in the bleachers surrounding the battlefield. Even a class of six-year-olds from a nearby primary school had come over to watch. Their teacher wasn’t too pleased with the disruption though. She was busy giving Mrs. Murawski, a teacher at the Rustboro School and referee for the gym battle, an earful about the proper times to allow a gym battle so her students could focus on their lessons. 

“-YOU TRAINERS, AWFUL AT REMEMBERING THAT MATH AND READING ARE JUST AS VITAL!” 

Mrs. Murawski sighed dreamily at the desk she’d carried down herself, ignoring the other teacher completely. 

“-STOP FONDLING THAT DESK LEG AND PAY ATTENTION! MY STUDENTS CAN’T EVEN GET THROUGH A SIMPLE BERENSTAIN BEARTIC BOOK CAUSE OF YOU!” 

Since the gym battle would be delayed until those two sorted out their drama, Melissa and Lydia took the opportunity to review strategies with Milo, while Zack and Amanda distracted Scott from potentially overhearing them and coming up with a counter. 

Supersonic had finally worn off on Zack, but he seemed just as confused as to why Scott was throwing empty candy wrappers into the air like they were flower petals. 

“Don’t let him tire your Pokémon out,” Lydia suggested. “Principal Milder used the same tactic earlier on a boy’s Shroomish. He lucked out, you know. Effect Spore decided to activate when she tried finishing the battle with Tackle. Nosepass went right to sleep and couldn’t block Bullet Seed. If you ask me, he didn’t deserve that badge.” 

“Black hair, glasses, sarcastic, and rude?” Melissa asked. 

“Plaid gray shirt too,” Lydia shuddered. “No fashion sense at all.” 

“I can hear you!” a voice protested from the stands. 

Milo waved at Bradley, who scowled back fiercely. His Shroomish and Minun were playing an odd game of rock-paper-scissors together, ignoring their trainer’s grudge against Milo. 

Well, it looked like rock-paper-scissors, but Milo wasn’t sure how Shroomish managed the appropriate shapes without hands. 

“Hey, you came!” Milo exclaimed. “I bet you’re just as excited as me!” 

“I’m excited to watch you lose,” Bradley said, adding an eye roll for good measure. He turned his attention to Lydia. “And this shirt is part of the Gothitelle Boutique winter line. It’s fashionable.” 

“Sure, if your definition of fashionable includes rainclouds hanging above your head and spreading a mission of doom and gloom,” Lydia retorted.

Bradley flicked his hand dismissively and sat down, still glaring at Milo while he scratched Minun’s ear.

Milo wasn’t sure if Bradley was trying to emulate one of those jerk rival archetypes from Sara’s favorite anime, because he seemed to run more along the lines of grumpy guys with soft spots for non-humans. 

“You’ll do great,” Melissa said. “Just remember, Zack and I are right behind you...and the protective shield.” 

The shield was mostly there to protect spectators from barrages of dirt, water, and other attacks, but it would be good protection against Murphy’s Law as well. 

“You can do it, Milo!” Amanda cheered. Minccino squealed in encouragement, perching on Amanda’s head for a better view. 

Milo took his position on the battlefield. Diogee stood next to him, his front legs trembling with excitement. Milo grinned. 

“You’ll get your chance, but I’d like to lead with Mudkip,” Milo told him. 

Diogee fixed Milo with a red-eyed stare, his chest heaving in a deep sigh.

“Save the best for last, remember?” Milo asked. 

Diogee’s chest puffed out with pride. 

The irate primary school teacher finally gave up berating Murawski and stalked off the field, muttering some very unkind things about Milder’s hiring choices. 

Murawski draped herself across her desk, holding a megaphone in one hand while supporting herself with the other. Milo took the opportunity to set her up with a protective shield of her own as she announced the rules of the gym battle.

“This is a match between Scott, designated gym leader, and Milo, our challenger!” Murawski shouted into the megaphone. “This will be a two-on-two battle and no-SCREEE!” 

Her last word turned into a high-pitch wail that made everyone cover their ears. 

“Sorry! Technical malfunction! Happens all the time!” Murawski giggled nervously, a strange snort coming out of her nose. 

Once he was finished with the shield, Milo set two extra megaphones on the ground next to her desk. “You’ll want those,” he said. 

Murawski took it in stride and shooed him back into position. 

“-no substitutions are allowed. Scott has been given authority to issue the Stone Badge if the challenger wins.” 

“Pumice or feldspar?” Scott asked, digging around in his hard hat, which appeared to be full of small rocks. 

“Do you even have the Stone Badge on your person?” Murawski asked, aiming the megaphone in his direction. 

“My person is Mildred!” Scott exclaimed. 

Murawski stared at him for a few moments, and when he offered no further explanation, she turned her attention to a group of students in the stands. “Allison, grab a Stone Badge from Milder’s office. It’s in the desk, first drawer on your left.” 

Allison ran off and came back with the Stone Badge in record time, evidently not wanting to delay the match any further. 

Murawski stored the badge in her desk for safekeeping. “Commence the battle, and I swear if any of you hurts my little desky-poo...” 

She let the threat hang in the air, then raised a green flag to signal the beginning of the match. 

“Mudkip, let’s do our best!” Milo shouted, sending the Poké Ball flying. Mudkip used Water Gun on his Poké Ball in a display of power and sent it hurtling straight for the megaphone in Murawski’s hand. 

“Save me, desk!” Murawski shrieked, ducking underneath for cover as the Poké Ball shattered the megaphone upon impact. The megaphone released a final screech as its final cry before falling silent. 

“The blue-finned one’s your new friend, Cynthia!” Scott exclaimed, gently setting an orange juice carton down several feet in front of him. 

Milo glanced at the audience, but most of them didn’t look too surprised at Scott’s choice. Zack, Lydia, and Amanda all had to strain Melissa from marching down to Scott and decking him for breaking the sacred rules of battle. 

“Scott, the rulebook clearly states that orange juice cartons are not Pokémon,” Murawski sighed. “Neither are motorbikes, cupholders, or Pikipek.” 

“You mean the native bird of Alola?” Melissa asked, looking up from the notebook she was writing in. 

“Pikipek are evil. They will devour your desks in seconds and have your backup desk as dessert. They are not of this world,” Murawski’s voice dropped to a low hiss, stunning everyone into silence. 

Except for Scott, who just threw his arms up in the air. “It’s the inside that counts!” he exclaimed. 

A green pile of goo oozed out of the carton, reshaping itself into a blobby Pokémon. It smiled at Mudkip, revealing two peg-shaped teeth. 

Milo was no stranger to Grimer, since they lived inside the caves surrounding Mt. Chimney. But he’d never seen a green one before. 

“Milo!” Melissa shouted from the stands. “Alolan Grimer are Poison and Dark type! It’s even more weak to Ground than the ones at Mt. Chimney!” 

“Don’t give him info!” Bradley scoffed. “I’m trying to watch him lose!” 

He was immediately met by four outraged protests. “Quiet, Bradley!” 

Bradley sank further into his seat, grumbling about unlawful interference. 

“Use Mud Slap!” Milo shouted, deciding to open with a super effective move to see how Mudkip fared. 

Mudkip slammed his paws into the rocky ground and released twin jets of mud, which arched towards Cynthia. 

“Make yourself pretty and share your makeup with the blue-finned one!” Scott yelled. 

Cynthia’s body glowed blue and vanished in the blink of an eye. The mud streams hit the ground, leaving a rather ugly splotch of greenish-brown gunk. Before Milo could blink, Cynthia materialized behind Mudkip and spat a glob of acid at him. Mudkip yelped as the sludge hit his shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” Milo asked as Mudkip staggered. 

Mudkip nodded. He wasn’t poisoned for now, but that could change at any moment. 

“Make yourself even prettier!” Scott exclaimed. 

“Try another Mud Slap!” Milo yelled. 

Mud Slap clipped Cynthia’s arm, but didn’t cause enough damage to surprise her. 

Unfortunately, the protective shields did nothing to protect spectators from attacks above their heads. Screams erupted from the stands as people used backpacks, jackets, and each other to block the sludge Cynthia haphazardly lobbed as she zoomed all over the gym. It splattered all over the protective shields, making Murawski shriek and cover her desk protectively. 

Cynthia bounced off the walls at high speeds, leaving small piles of goop behind wherever she landed. Diogee ducked into a small area under the bleachers, dutifully avoiding the sludge piles as he curled up. 

“I’ll call you when it’s your turn!” Milo shouted to Diogee, quickly putting on safety goggles to protect his eyes. 

Scott chuckled at the chaotic scene. “We’re making art! Don’t forget your subject, Cynthia!” 

Cynthia lobbed several globs of sludge at Mudkip, but Mudkip blocked them all with well-aimed Water Gun attacks. However, this didn’t deter Cynthia in the slightest. 

Milo knew he had to do something before Mudkip got too tired to track her. He flicked a stray candy wrapper that had blown onto his shoe. 

There were a lot of candy wrappers on the ground. 

Vaguely, Milo recalled his dad’s wise sayings about Grimer. 

“Grimer love trash of any kind. So if the Bouffalant painting behind us mysteriously disappears one day, I deny any involvement in allowing a Grimer to eat it.”

Granted, the Bouffalant painting hadn’t disappeared under mysterious circumstances yet, but the point still stood.

While Cynthia and Scott were fixated on creating an acidic portrait of a Dustox on the shields, Milo called Mudkip over. Mudkip bounded him up to him, shaking the sludge off his tail. 

“Mudkip, I want you to gather every candy wrapper you can find and put it into a pile. And don’t call Scott’s attention to you,” Milo said. “We have to get Cynthia in one place to hit her. She’s too fast with that double Rock Polish.”

Once Mudkip collected a sizable amount and piled it all into the middle of the field, Milo ordered a Water Gun to get Cynthia and Scott into battle mode. Mudkip stayed near the pile of wrappers, dodging Sludge attacks until Scott finally called for Bite. 

Now that Rock Polish had mostly worn off, Cynthia wasn’t as swift in her movements and Mudkip easily sidestepped her gaping maw. Cynthia crashed into the wrappers, though she wasn’t hurt by the impact and immediately started munching on the wrappers. 

“You’ll ruin your dinner!” Scott shouted. “Don’t you want roast leftover meatloaf on a stick?” 

Cynthia paid him no mind. 

Milo grinned. “She’s in position! Fire at will!” 

Just as Cynthia dropped the last candy wrapper into her mouth, twin jets of mud smacked into her mucky green body. 

Mudkip cheered at the direct hit, but his elation didn’t last long when an enraged Cynthia tried to drop a giant rock on his head. 

“Target practice! Head worth fifty points, fin worth forty, body worth twenty, and limbs are five!” Scott exclaimed. “Bet you can’t beat my record!” 

As a matter of fact, Cynthia really wanted to beat his record. Mudkip panted, crouching low in front of a rocky pillar. Cynthia stretched her slime so that she rose above Mudkip, holding a giant rock above her head with amazing strength. 

“Mudkip, get out of there!” Milo warned. 

Cynthia brought the rock down, and Mudkip’s body suddenly became enveloped in a blinding white glow. His front legs stretched, growing longer until the rock was firmly in his grasp. The form grew larger, then the light died away, revealing a light blue Pokémon with a bipedal stance.

“Let’s finish this off, Marshtomp!” Milo shouted. “Mud Bomb!” 

Marshtomp wrenched the rock out of Cynthia’s grasp, applied a much stronger Water Gun to the rock to break it into dust, and flung the muddy projectile into Cynthia’s torso. 

Acid and mud splatted everywhere, and Cynthia laid unconscious, her peg-like teeth exposed.

Murawski blocked her desk from further attack with one arm while she used the megaphone to announce the results. 

“Grimer is unable to battle!” she proclaimed. 

A resounding cheer came from Milo’s friends. 

“Into the orange juice carton, Cynthia. We’ll dumpster dive for your reward later,” Scott said, coaxing her into the container he’d first thrown onto the field. Once Cynthia was out of sight, Scott grinned widely at Milo. “Have I ever introduced you to Mildred?” 

Milo shook his head. 

“Oh, I haven’t?” Scott looked sheepish. “Whoops, guess I’ll have to fix that! Methuselah, meet Mildred!” 

He placed a milk carton on a flat piece of rock at his waist level. 

Milo waved awkwardly. “It’s Milo.” 

“Sassa-oh no, it’s sorry! Sorry, Mikey!” Scott said. 

Close enough. 

Murawski lifted her megaphone again. “Scott, milk cartons are prohibited from participating in an official gym battle.” 

Scott blinked at her. “Wow. You guys are like, really discriminatory to cartons.” 

The carton glowed red and released a Miltank, who stomped the ground with such force that Milo could feel the tremor. While Milo was curious as to how Scott managed to get a discarded carton to work as a Poké Ball, he didn’t get a chance to ask since Miltank body slammed Marshtomp into the ground without a prompt from her trainer. 

Marshtomp was knocked out instantly. 

“Marshtomp is unable to battle!” Murawski declared. “Both trainers are down to their last Pokémon!” 

“C’MON, MILO! YOU CAN BEAT HIM!” Amanda screeched. She leaned dangerously over the railing. Zack and Lydia hauled her back to her seat, but she barely noticed. 

Bradley muttered something Milo couldn’t make out, but Melissa didn’t look too happy and she ‘accidentally’ jabbed him with her elbow while standing up to cheer for Milo. 

“Looks like you’re up, Diogee!” Milo called as he returned Marshtomp to his  Poké Ball. 

Diogee crawled out from his spot underneath the bleachers and took up a position on the battlefield. 

“No roughhousing!” Scott yelled. “Play nice, Mildred!” 

Mildred took her trainer’s order as an excuse to body slam Diogee, who barely dodged in time. Milo sidestepped to avoid being steamrolled by a charging Miltank, and she crashed into the wall that separated the field and bleachers. 

The spectators behind him screamed as the bleachers shook and collapsed. 

“We’re okay!” Melissa yelled. 

“I can’t feel my appendix!” Zack complained. 

“All of us except Zack’s appendix are okay!” Melissa amended. 

Mildred grinned dizzily, charging back onto the field. Diogee aimed a Cut attack in her direction, but it barely slowed her down. 

“Right hoof, let’s stomp!” Scott yelled as he did some weird jig that involved a lot of leg-shaking. Mildred stomped on Diogee’s hind legs, making him stumble and lose his balance. 

“Are you okay?” Milo asked. Diogee staggered away from Mildred, sending an affirming nod to Milo. “Good! Let’s try Bite!” 

Diogee darted forward, avoiding another Stomp and landing Bite on Mildred’s shoulder. Mildred cried out and tried to shake him off, but Diogee held on tightly. 

“Scratch while you’re in close quarters!” Milo shouted. 

The tips of Diogee’s claws elongated into long, thin strips of light and scratched Mildred in the face and stomach. 

“Good job, Diogee!” Milo praised. 

Diogee broke his Bite attack to give a pleased look at Milo, allowing Mildred to fling him off. 

“Snack break!” Scott exclaimed, wolfing down a can of beans at a speed so fast that Milo was sure he’d choke. He tossed a milk bottle to Mildred, who happily gulped it down. In a few moments, it appeared as though Diogee hadn’t gotten those close quarter hits on Mildred at all. 

“Is that legal?” Milo called to Murawski, who was too busy carrying her desk out of the room to pay attention. 

“You saw the destructive power of that Body Slam!” Murawski shouted. “There is no way I’m risking my desk’s life!” 

“Keep rolling, Mildred!” Scott called as he wiped bean residue from his face. 

Mildred curled into a pink ball and spun in place, building up enough energy to propel her to Diogee. Diogee unleashed several Cuts, two hitting their mark and three that crashed into the ceiling, sending several chunks raining down. 

Milo opened an umbrella to protect himself from the dust. 

Mildred slammed into Diogee, sending him sprawling. Then she continued to roll past him at high speed, ricocheting off a wall as she rolled into him a second time. Diogee retaliated with another Cut, which prevented a third Rollout from connecting and sent Mildred spinning toward Scott’s side of the field. 

Mildred crashed into another wall, and Milo decided that he’d better end this match before the building collapsed. 

“Diogee, cleave a furrow into the ground with Cut!” Milo shouted. 

“Pass the roll and butter, Mildred!” Scott called. 

A well-executed Cut cleared enough rock to form a shallow groove in the ground. 

“Dodge and ready your Razor Wind!” Milo called as Mildred barrelled straight at Diogee. Jumping to the other side to avoid Mildred, Diogee’s horn began to glow white as the winds whipped through his fur. 

Mildred crashed straight into the furrow, her body still a pink and black ball, as if she hadn’t realized she was trapped. 

Once the wind was sufficiently built up, Diogee released it, and the air blades crashed straight into Mildred. She uncurled, panting heavily and making no effort to climb out. 

“Finish with Bite!” Milo yelled. 

The resulting Bite drained the little energy Mildred had left, and she collapsed as soon as Diogee carried her out of the furrow.

Melissa hopped over the railing and grabbed a megaphone that had somehow avoided the line of fire. “Miltank is unable to battle! The winner is Diogee! The challenger wins the match!” 

With the exception of Bradley, the spectators cheered. His friends ran onto the battlefield, loudly cheering for Milo’s victory. Bradley sullenly followed behind them. 

Bradley scowled. “You’re not an official referee!” 

“There’s a rule stating that the family of a gym leader could act as referee if an official ref is unavailable,” Melissa replied with a smirk. “It’s obscure now because the League wants to avoid nepotism, but never officially repealed.”

“Your friend is kinda scary,” Lydia remarked. 

Milo couldn’t reply because Amanda and Minccino were nearly choking him in their enthusiasm. 

Once they allowed him some breathing room, Milo released Marshtomp from his Poké Ball. While Marshtomp would need more rest before battling again, he was well enough to celebrate their victory. 

“You two were awesome today!” Milo exclaimed. 

Diogee and Marshtomp puffed their chests out in pride. 

“It shouldn’t count,” Bradley muttered. “He wasn’t even battling the official leader.”

Lydia left briefly to retrieve the badge from Murawski, who still refused to enter the arena while Scott and Mildred were around. They still had the capacity to destroy her beloved desk. 

Because Scott was the designated gym leader, Lydia had to hand off the badge to him so he could officially present it to Milo. 

“This stone makes you our leader!” Scott declared, dropping the Stone Badge onto Milo’s head. “Cynthia, Mildred, and I are at your command! Who would you like us to trap underground?” 

“Well, there’s someone who owes me money...” Melissa began, but Zack put his hand over her mouth to indicate that they weren’t trapping anyone underground. Scott and Mildred seemed rather disappointed. 

Milo plucked the Stone Badge off his head, passing it around to his friends so they could see it too. Minccino wouldn’t let Amanda give the badge back to Milo until it received a proper cleaning. 

“I just got...A STONE BADGE!” Milo exclaimed once Minccino was satisfied, holding his badge triumphantly in the air. Marshtomp and Diogee struck victory poses. 

“Really?” Melissa asked as Milo stored it in his badge case. 

Milo shrugged. “It looks fun when they do it on TV.” 

“Well, Mildred and I must be off!” Scott saluted as he and Mildred squeezed into a large pipe that had been exposed during the battle. “Those dumpsters ain’t diving themselves!” 

“The next gym leader better not smell like sewer...” Bradley muttered. 

“And then I said ‘girl, that’s not a Trubbish! That Pokémon is way cuter than your hairstyle!’“ Lydia finished, bowing low to a round of applause as they exited the Rustboro School. 

“Trubbish are pretty popular with Dr. Magnezone fans,” Milo said. “Problem is there’s so many nicknamed Trubbishdroid that they can never tell them apart!” 

Zack and Lydia broke into hysterical laughter, and Milo laughed too until he felt someone crash into him. Milo fell back, rubbing his head where it had collided with the other person’s. 

The pain quickly subsided and Milo offered his hand to the other person, who was whimpering fearfully at the empty briefcase he dropped. The green suit looked vaguely familiar. 

“Hey, aren’t you that businessman we helped in Petalburg Woods?” Melissa asked. 

“You have to help me!” the businessman cried out, looking ready to faint at any moment. 

“Yup, it’s him. Before you faint from sheer terror, mind filling us in?” Milo asked. 

“Red mustache! Gray clothes! Stole...weird hat doesn’t match! No, wait!” the businessman screeched, pointing in the direction of the mountains. Melissa and Bradley shot him exasperated looks. “Other way around! Gray mustache and red clothes! Funny hat! Took my goods! The super important goods! Running into Rusnel Tunturf...Neltun Turfrus...I regret skipping lunch...” 

He fainted. 

“I think he meant Rusturf Tunnel,” Amanda said while everyone stared in disbelief. “It’s east of here.” 

“I’m leaving,” Bradley scoffed. “I have my own things to do.”

Melissa latched onto his arm and dragged him to the east exit, ignoring Bradley’s protests. “You’re coming. Milo’s Pokémon are still tired and we could use the extra help.”

Alolan Grimer can learn Rock Polish via TM. Both types of Grimer can learn Rock Tomb.

The bit with Martin saying he wanted to feed the Bouffalant painting to Grimer came from Disco-Do Over, in which one of Martin’s listed dreams is replacing the buffalo painting in the living room.

Whitney’s strategy in the anime was to just have Miltank steamroll her opponent with Rollout until they fainted. Similar concept here really.

First gym battle is done and Milo has the Stone Badge! Next it’s to Rusturf Tunnel they go!

#milo murphy's law #absolutely disastrous #scott the undergrounder #oras au #pokemon au #bradley nicholson #melissa chase #zack underwood #diogee #amanda and lydia

[measuringlife]

Measuring Monday: Teaching 101

Teaching is my blood, both my parents were teachers and both of my mom’s parents were teachers. Truth be told I never set out to teach in any capacity, but destiny is funny like that.  

I found my way to teaching first in college where I started gravitating towards positions when I could “mentor” underclassman. Actually, that’s not true, I had a brief stint in high school where I taught CCD (Catholic education classes) for a year to first graders with my friend Heather. Nightmare, definitely solidified being a traditional K-12 teacher was not for me! So my college mentor role developed in co-teaching two interdisciplinary classes in grad school, both were highlights, but again I was drawn in through the leadership aspect more than the teaching. Two years later I taught a first-year college seminar, but that was the most “teaching” I did in like 5 years. Granted I was “leading” weekly 3 hour trainings for student leaders during that time, but again I never thought of it as teaching.

Suddenly I found myself at the helm of a whole course with 55+ sections of a first-year college transitions class and almost as many adjunct faculty to wrangle all while teaching a section myself. But it was during this time that I had my first real taste of experiential education, and in this case, it was through outdoor adventure curriculum. The learning that happened outside the class was even more powerful than anything that I could achieve in the classroom. One of my favorite “lessons” was on budgeting and decision making. We assigned students in small groups to meal plan for our trip. Each group probably got 2 meals to do. Each meal had a different amount budgeting to spend, so like breakfast was $4 per person, lunch was $6 per person, and dinner was $8 per person. The groups knew what meals they had to make and they were aware of the budget per person, but the trick was did the count all group members (including trip leaders, which one group forgot). What could they buy that could stretch the money out, what could be cooked with limited supplies on portable gas stoves? Were everyone’s dietary needs considered? Would the food be made at camp or did it need to be portable? So the groups needed to plan, shop and then cook. It was a real-life lesson and part of the well thought out curriculum that was cloaked in food shopping. In some cases they made too much food, others not enough food, went waaay under-budget or needed a last minute change because at the register they were over-budget. The processing the activity can sometimes be the best part.

Anyway, I taught another few years in traditional classroom settings, I even was hired to teach a 3-credit public speaking class, talk about traditional. I was really looking forward to the chance, but when I changed jobs HR needed me to resign my adjunct gig with my full-time gig, so I gave up the class months before it started. I toyed with picking up a first-year seminar class or a communications class at my current school, but for a whole host of reasons I didn’t. Then Urban Hiking found me.

A younger colleague of mine who I was Facebook friends with posted in Fall 2017 about being excited to be a first-time adjunct faculty and teaching an Urban Hiking class. I was excited for her excitement, but I was like Urban Hiking, tell me more. We chatted about it a few times over the course of the semester, I shared with her a bit about my outdoor education background. Well not too long after that she reached out to me letting me know she couldn’t teach in the Spring and wanted to refer me to her department chair. Next thing I knew I was brushing off my resume and interviewing for the gig which I got on the spot!

Teaching Urban Hiking last spring for the first time was a game changer. I was able to teach college students, be outdoors, and exercise. WINNING! This class is for 3 hours on Saturdays for 5 weeks and I was unsure about if it was worth the extra haul into DC. However, it quickly became my favorite part of the week. Not only was the class time itself great, but I loved reading the students reflections about each week’s hike and lesson. The class is designed to take students on various DC trails and introduce necessary hiking skills and concepts to hike for outdoor travel or as a recreational fitness activity. Content covers: fitness for hiking, route planning,  proper clothing and gear, safety concerns, and environmental conditions. I’m currently in my 3rd semester teaching Urban Hiking and it gets better and better. I’ve also spent the past two semesters mentoring the adjuncts who have taught the other second. Yup, the class was so popular that my department added a second section!

Recently I’ve gone and added the layer of Group Fitness Instructing which is such a different vibe. There are participants of all ages and abilities, those who are there to work out hard and those there to be more social. There is a sense of team and community, but also we are individuals all on our own journey, getting unique things from the workout. Lots of folks have asked me about my BODYPUMP teaching. In the Les Mills formats (which is the umbrella company out of New Zealand that are trainers that develop varieties of workouts) the instructors do the whole workout with the participants facing the class. We give verbal cues and we model the exercises. We stay at the front and try and give corrective cues as we go without calling out participants directly during class. There is so much going on from microphones to music to equipment, to knowing the choreography, getting the timing down, giving good cues, getting your mouth and brain to connect so you can say those cues, AND you are doing the entire workout while giving modifications, corrections, and most importantly praise and encouragement. Since I’m still a sub instructor I haven’t had the opportunity to develop too much rapport with the participants, but I’ve found myself subbing the same classes a few times now and that rapport is starting to develop.

Yesterday I fully co-taught a BODYPUMP class with my friend R. It was a blast to be teaching PUMP in my home gym. I’m co-teaching PUMP with J on Thursday and I’m stoked since I was a regular in that class. I’m also solo subbing at my home gym on the 17th and I can’t wait. The big dance will be when I get to sub a 10:25am Saturday class which is always packed and was a part of my weekend routine for a long time!

Call me a teacher, faculty, adjunct, instructor, professor whatever you want. I enjoy leading people and being seen as a resource.

#MLgoals #MLwork #MLmotivation #mlabout

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Ray Flores paid his dues to become boxing’s new voice

Ray Flores paid his dues to become boxing’s new voice

18 Aug by Joseph Santoliquito As he walked out still damp from swim practice, the brush of a chilly breeze forced Ray Flores Jr. to clench his shoulders and yank his jacket tight to his neck. Little did he know he was stepping into a seminal life-changing moment. His father, Ray Flores Sr., was waiting for him in the warm, humming car out front of East Chicago Central High School one winter day in 2002. Ray Sr. was a Spanish teacher who wanted more for his three sons. He had a deep, baritone voice that could punch through walls. It commanded respect every time he spoke, especially to his boys. Ray Sr. had a way of being direct without being confrontational. So, when Ray Jr. tucked himself into the car for the 10-minute ride home that afternoon, he caught the brunt of it. Ray Sr. was transparent with his boys. Raising them, whatever was on his mind he said. As they drove home, Ray Sr. darted a look at his oldest son over a brewing concern and asked, “Listen Ray, are you going to become an Olympic swimmer? I hear you talking about swim practice and stuff, but what about your education? What about your future? You really need to apply yourself to something you can hang on to move forward.” A few months later, Ray Flores Jr. walked into ECTV, a local public access cable station in East Chicago, Indiana, looking for a summer jab. Ray Jr. can look back at that epiphany as to why he’ll play a central role in the broadcast of the Manny Pacquiao-Yordenis Ugas fight for the WBA welterweight title on the FOX Sports PBC Pay-Per-View this Saturday (9PM ET/6PM PT) from the T-Mobile Arena, in Las Vegas, Nevada. “My father saw a critical moment where the swimming and my social life was becoming more important than my education and he wanted to shake me up a little bit, and I’m glad he did,” admitted Ray Jr., who will be calling the media press conferences for PBC this weekend, as well as the FOX international broadcast of the fight. “If it wasn’t for that particular conversation, I would have swum all four years in high school. I don’t think I would be where I am now if that talk never took place.” Ray Jr., who will turn 35 on August 30, would watch Julio Cesar Chavez fights with his father when he was a child, feet dangling from the edge of the living room sofa, mimicking what the fighters were doing on the screen. Ray Sr. would playfully chide him that he would only sit still for fights and Chicago Bears’ games. That was it. Otherwise, Ray Jr. was constantly moving. He still is. He easily travels 40 of the 52 weeks a year. Though he’s in his mid-30s, Ray still looks like he’s 16. He was actually that age when he walked into ECTV. Ray got an internship and worked an hour a week doing local community news and started a teen talk show. When the internship was over, he was impressive enough to be among a handful of students that the local station asked to stay on and work after school. He would do an hour-and-a-half a day during the week when school got out at 2:30. Soon after, the city of East Chicago, a hamlet in Northwest Indiana about a 31-minute drive from Chicago, bought ECTV, which allowed Ray to suggest broadcasting local high school basketball and football games. From there, Ray had a chance meeting with Miguel Torres, East Chicago’s only semblance of a sports star at the time. Torres was a World Extreme Cagefighting champion, who eventually graduated on to the UFC, before MMA was nationally regulated. Ray started following Torres and asked if ECTV could start covering his fights. Ray Sr. would make the short trek to the Ramada Inn in Hammond, Indiana, where Ray Jr., then 17, would conduct fighter meetings and then call Torres’ fights from the Hammond Civic Center, a quaint 4,000-seat arena. “I did so many events there that I grew up in that building as a commentator, and as a ring announcer,” recalled Ray. Jr. “Fight fans growing up in Philly had a legendary place like the Blue Horizon. I had the Hammond Civic Center. We were so low budget that I had to literally sit next to the camera, plug in my microphone in the upper deck of this 4,000-seat arena and called the fights next to the camera with my notes in my lap. “I think that’s where things started for me. In 2005, I began a new boxing and MMA radio show, but I wondered how I would do it, considered boxing is such a visual sport. I got a lot of help from old Chicago Tribune boxing writer Michael Hirsley would come on. But there were some obstacles. “From an MMA standpoint, I got a great start quickly from guys like Joe Goytia and Mike Davis gave me the chance when I was a sophomore at Columbia College Chicago (where he graduated with a BA in radio and television). Joe called me up to be the ring announcer for his fights that paid $200 a night. You’re a college kid, so $200 is a lot of money. “In boxing, Bobby Hitz, the Chicago promoter, gave me my opportunity a year later, in 2008, 2009. But the real breakthrough in boxing came in December 2011. Joe Martinez, who works for Golden Boy, did a local MMA fight that I was working, and I did the first half of the night and Joe did the second half of the fight. “I met Joe in the summer of 2011 and he took a liking to me. He called me out of the blue in November of 2011 and asked me if I could fill in for him in Indio, California, and I sent them a tape. I’m so blessed, because so many people are so great to me. From there, I started doing one show a month for Golden Boy since Joe was so busy.”

Ray was once a five-year-old kid watching the legendary Joe Goossen corner Gabriel Ruelas. Ray began announcing one card a month for Golden Boy and doing Floyd Mayweather undercards on large shows, like Mayweather’s fight against Canelo Alvarez in September 2013. During the Mayweather-Marcos Maidana undercard in September 2014, Sandy Goossen-Brown, Joe’s sister and Tom Brown’s wife, heard Ray and told Tom about him. In December 2014, Ray announced ESPN’s “Night of Champions” when he ran into Brown, who runs TGB Promotions. Brown asked Ray to do a Showtime ShoBox show the following week. In June 2015, Brown began bringing in Ray to host press conferences. Banner Promotions’ Artie Pelullo, Marc Abrams and Matt Rowland helped him take another step in April 2015 in getting the Lucas Matthysse-Ruslan Provodnikov announcing assignment on the HBO card. Ray received some pushback from some major network people, but he had strong allies in PBC, Brown, Kelly Swanson and Sam Watson pushing his cause. Eventually, when given the chance, he proved himself to the doubters. His talent spoke loudly. “I grew up when legends honed their craft, with Marv Albert and Bob Costas with the NBA doing Chicago Bulls games; John Madden and Pat Summerall doing NFL games; and Steve Albert, Ferdie Pacheco, Jim Lampley, Larry Merchant and Emanuel Steward calling fights,” Ray said. “I remember watching the Julio Cesar Chavez beat Greg Haugen in 1993. I was watching the countdown show three hours before the pay-per-view and I wouldn’t move. “Watching the prelim fights, there was Azumah Nelson fighting Gabriel Ruelas, and the trainer for the Ruelas brothers happened to be the legendary Joe Goossen, who I work with now on FS1. I was watching Joe corner Gabe Ruelas 30 years ago, when I was five. Talk about life coming full circle.”

Ray made sure to create a good path for younger brother Miguel to follow. Ray Jr. could be the most viewed boxing announcer in the world today. He’s also the only ring announcer who then broadcasts the same fights as the blow-by-blow man. He handles PBC events as the media host, handling press conferences and grand arrivals, is the Triller blow-by-blow announcer and is the international broadcaster for the PBC fights on Showtime and FOX. Miguel Flores, 27, sounds just like his brother. And if not for Ray Jr., Miguel wouldn’t be where he is on the boxing broadcasting tree. Their goal is to be like the Buffer brothers, Michael and Bruce, one day. Miguel is heading in the same direction as Ray. “I’m very proud of Ray and I wouldn’t be where I am without him,” Miguel says. “He has a great, distinctive voice, he’s passionate about sports and anything to do with sports and boxing. He was there with Miguel Torres, and Ray would even use his own dime to cover some of his events. “Ray wasn’t handed anything. He started honing his skills at a young age. He did everything and loved it. A crucial part of his development and what you see now is the polished experience he got with ECTV and all of the things he did there. My dad really pushed that, and the voice definitely comes from our father.

Miguel (standing left) and Ray have a special surprise for their parents, Ray Sr. and Sandra, seated with younger brother Alejandro, this weekend in Las Vegas for the Pacquiao-Ugas fight. “If me, Ray and my dad were to all talk together, it would be tough to distinguish us. But if you were around us a lot, you could tell the difference. I remember Ray calling Bulls’ games standing in the living room watching games. I don’t remember my parents thinking Ray was nuts (laughs). They encouraged it. Teachers would tell my parents all of the time how special Ray was.” This weekend is a big deal for Ray Jr. personally. It’s not big because it’s a Pacquiao fight or for the attention the fight brings. It’s big because for the first time, Ray Jr. and Miguel get to treat their parents, Ray Sr. and Sandra, to a big fight in Las Vegas. “It’s something very special,” Miguel said. “Being in this industry, there’s a lot of running around and a lot of the work that goes into what we do. We’re on the road three and four weeks at a time, and it’s not a normal life, but sharing this with Ray and my parents will make this weekend special. “Ray is the one that started it. He set the path. It’s one of those weekends that we’ll never forget—and I get to share it with my parents and my brothers. It’s what makes what I do so much better. I have a brother like Ray.” Joseph Santoliquito is an award-winning sportswriter who has been working for Ring Magazine/RingTV.com since October 1997 and is the president of the Boxing Writers Association of America. He can be followed on twitter @JSantoliquito. GET THE LATEST ISSUE AT THE RING SHOP (CLICK HERE) or Subscribe

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Arnold Schwarzenegger is incredibly famous for his movies, his bodybuilding titles, his life in politics and his marriage to the famous Shriver family.

But not many people know that Arnold first became financially stable – and eventually independent – not from the movie industry, but by investing in real estate. He had a vision early on of what the outcome would look like, and he was focused and driven to achieve that goal.

A relentless pursuit of goals

Arnold was charismatic, creative and driven at a young age. He dreamed of going to America and becoming a bodybuilding champion, a movie star and financially independent through real estate. He became relentless in his pursuit.

This story is not unique. There are many incredible stories of immigrants who moved to the United States and built fortunes, businesses and lives. But what stands out about Arnold is how pragmatic he was in his approach, persistent in his learning and driven to grow as a person and in business. He was able to map out steps to achieve any goal and literally cross things off the list as he reached them.

In previous blog posts, I’ve talked a lot about saying “no” to everything so you can say “yes” to “one thing.” Arnold was a master at this. He trained vigorously in bodybuilding. He learned about the trade, joined the best competitors, worked with the best trainers and eventually became one of the greatest bodybuilders of all time.

He was eventually invited to America for a bodybuilding competition. He set his sights on his next goal of moving to the US and becoming a movie star. As he trained and won more competitions worldwide, he grew a small business out of his apartment and found time to attend acting school. Although others around him suggested that he wouldn’t get good roles or that his accent and body would hold him back, he always believed that he would be a leading man. He waited for the right part to pass and took the opportunity.

By his mid-thirties, Arnold had become an instantly recognizable movie star and had made an incredible amount of money. But long before that, he had already become a millionaire. He became financially independent by buying, accumulating and investing real estate. His first purchase was not a single-family home; it was a small apartment building that covered his monthly living expenses. And he continued to invest his earnings in real estate deals that made sense. He learned from mentors and partners in the company.

Today, his net worth is estimated to be in the $400 million range. He has made millions from movies, but he has created his wealth with real estate by reinvesting the income in assets. While other acting and bodybuilding friends worked for an income, he started building his passive income early on to support him as he pursued whatever he wanted. He understood how real estate would allow him to do what he wanted and not trade time for dollars in his life.

More about personal development from Bids For

Investing in real estate is a continuous learning process. Mistakes and lessons learned characterize almost every investor’s career. The great thing about Bids For is that you can learn from the triumphs and failures of other investors across the country. Spending time learning from the experiences of others can significantly accelerate the growth of your real estate portfolio and help you avoid setbacks. This section of the Bids For blog is devoted to those types of posts that help investors become successful in real estate and avoid mistakes that others have made in the past. You can read more similar stories and discussions on our real estate success story forum.

Personal development

Business Lessons from Arnold Schwarzenegger

Schwarzenegger has said, “I made my first million in real estate, not movies.”

Schwarzenegger started early in real estate as a bricklayer. He invested those wages in a mail order company. His investments in real estate, book deals, restaurants, TV productions and other business ventures have made him a millionaire hundreds of times. And now two of his sons are also real estate investors, following in his footsteps: Patrick Schwarzenegger buys and sells multimillion-dollar homes, while Joseph Baena recently began a career in residential real estate.

So what are the lessons learned from Arnold’s experience, and how do you become a formidable legend like him in real estate?

Refine your craft

Arnold distinguished himself as a legend in bodybuilding not only by working hard and lifting heavy things. He also constantly tested new techniques and refined his craft. He found that it was the finer techniques and individual methods that worked best and really made a difference.

Get your mind right

He also had the right mindset. That included a big vision on developing mental toughness. The real estate industry is not easy. Investors need to have that vision — or at least something to keep them motivated when the going gets tough. Arnold had the vision of the perfect body, of titles and medals, and of a great empire built on real estate. For me personally, it’s my daughter who keeps me going through difficult times, and also leaves a good legacy when I’m gone. But in the end, it’s about taking care of her, giving her things and opportunities that I never had growing up. It’s also about the freedom to spend quality time with her and be there when she needs me. Everyone should have something that propels them through those tougher days.

Become famous

Of course, Arnold also clearly realized that just being in shape wasn’t enough to achieve his goals. He saw the importance of being in the spotlight and also controlling the media. That meant taking action and getting out there and putting himself in the game — and competitions. He participated, ran political campaigns, became editor of several magazines and even starred in reality TV shows. He still has his own website and blog. Along the way, he has always been incredibly generous in sharing the results of his mistakes and successes with others.

adapt

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, he has successfully embraced change. He had different training tactics for the in and off season. And he has gone through several seasons of his life and career. To this day, he reinvents himself. In real estate, you could start out as a real estate scout for a mentor, fix up your own homes, go into rental business, and then one day try crowdfunding and lend the capital you’ve earned. Don’t be afraid to evolve, grow and diversify over time.

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Our weekly webinars will educate, encourage, and teach you to take action toward your dream of financial freedom. Ready to dive in? Search and sign up for upcoming webinars, find and replay old webinars, and continue your real estate investing education.

It’s okay to struggle – and get help

Whether you’re at home, at work, in an airport, or on your cell phone, I want you to feel your hunger and desire to win. The more I learned about Arnold’s story, the more motivated I felt to build my own unique story of growing my business and my life through real estate. I want you to visualize and extract your story from the stories and people that inspire you.

You will have to pursue your goal with patience and persistence. Understand that you will have tough days. You will fail. You will probably lose. But be humble, learn and grow. Find mentors and teachers who can help you. Review your goals every day and let them not just become ideas, but rather a part of your own makeup. Make the choice now so that when you struggle, you stand up and remind yourself that it is part of the journey to the goal you have made.

One day on set, Arnold argued with James Cameron, the writer and director of The Terminator, about whether to say “I will be back” or “I’ll be back” in that famous phrase. James was persistent about the choice of language, which eventually became the film’s most famous line, a phrase quoted decades after. Though Arnold didn’t think it was the right line, James had written the movie and knew the right choice.

In the end, it took the effort of both guys (and countless others) to make this film. We’ll never know if the line would have ended up being as famous had they changed it, but we do know this: Even as driven, focused, and talented as Arnold was, he still had many people helping him achieve his goals. Make sure you keep your vision, understand your goals and look for people with like-minded plans.

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#Real Estate

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E-LEARNING FOR SOCIAL & EMOTIONAL SKILLS: PROS AND CONS

For many years now, researchers in educational fields have been trying to understand the influence of technology in the classroom. After all, technology is not in the classroom today, technology is the classroom. Discussions with online educators and trainers yield that despite their best efforts in trying to make the session innovative and experiential, it was evident that they were struggling to keep their participants engaged. “It’s so much harder [especially] with the younger members to engage online,” is a common statement.

E-learning is especially challenging when the subject we are trying to teach is Social and Emotional Learning. After all, the reason we focus so hard to build social and emotional skills is often because of the negative effects of technology.

How E-Learning Might be Helping

All challenges considered; it just would not be true to assume that because online education has underperformed in the past, it necessarily means that it will do so again in the future.

A) Learners learn at their own pace: . . . . . . . . . . . . . This is perhaps the most beneficial side to e-learning. In in-person classrooms, the pace of learning (whether too fast or too slow) is often a root cause for behavioural issues (in bored learners) or being overwhelmed (in slower learners). E-learning offers the opportunity for each learner to move at their own pace without knowing the progress of the rest of the classroom.

B) Material can be adapted to meet needs of different learners: . . . . . .. . . . . Different learners often learn best from different teaching styles and content. A teacher can offer the same lesson in multiple formats and learners can respond to the method that suits them best. While this can certainly be a lot of work on the front end, perhaps this year will present us with an opportunity to develop an initial virtual version of our content which teachers can add to in future years.

C) E-learning is more cost-effective: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Virtual learning is far more cost-effective than its in-person counterpart. Online learning presents institutions and organizations with an opportunity to cut costs, especially if the learner-teacher ratio can be increased without a loss of personal connection. D) The future of online learning is bright: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Technology’s greatest benefit is that it is innovative. It is always progressing and improving. Advances in technology offer hope that future online courses can respond to the needs of learners, meeting them where they are in their learning and engaging them in higher education even better than in-person courses are currently able to do. How E-Learning Might be Harming

A) Online learning is not performing well… yet: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . The track record for online learning has not yet caught up with our needs. Online learners seem to do substantially worse than learners in the same face-to-face course. They earned lower grades, were less likely to succeed in subsequent courses, and more likely to drop out.

B) Underprepared learners are vulnerable: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Perhaps the greatest negative in the e-learning column is that it is disproportionately effective on learners of high socioeconomic status. Reports on the effectiveness of online education have found that the results of e-learning are questionable among some learners. While online courses may have the potential to differentiate coursework to meet the needs of students with weaker incoming skills, current online courses, do an even worse job of meeting the needs of these learners than do traditional in-person courses. Even though online learning offers access to everyone, the benefits of it are not yet available to everyone.

C) Distraction is the greatest drawback of technology: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . A 2018 article in Psychology Today presented an interesting finding: A new study revealed that students who used technology in class did worse on their midterm and final exams than students who did not use technology in class. The study also found that students were negatively affected by the presence of their cell phones in the classroom even if they never looked at it. Though relevant from a school standpoint, its relevance across all learners does provoke a thought.

D) Learners suffer from “Online fatigue.” : . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . For learners, virtual classrooms create the illusion that you are being watched at all times, which can create fatigue, stress, and anxiety. Although some technology is working to change this norm, it is unlikely that having 20 squares of people all staring at you on a regular basis is going to change anytime soon.

Ideas for Improving SEL in the Virtual Classroom

Though there are positives and negatives to e-learning, the reality is that the virtual classroom is here to stay. So how do we make the most of the positives and minimize the negative effects?

A) Provide opportunities for students to learn at their own pace: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . If we want to create a successful e-learning experience for our students, the progress and pace will have to be determined by them. The one doing the talking is the one doing the learning.

Thought:- How could we create opportunities to allow learners to move at their own pace through the material? B) Utilize screen time to inspire in-person engagement — even at a later time: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Our screen-to-screen time should be used to inspire experiences and activities in our face-to-face time especially when we are teaching social and emotional skills. The next time we teach a social or emotional concept, make sure that the learners have a clear experience or activity to utilize in their interactions with family and friends. The best e-learning encourages real-world action.

Thought:- How could we encourage virtual learners to engage in the real world? C) Offer flexible time - more one-on-one time with learners who need it: . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . Many teachers are already doing this, but we may have to be more intentional with it. Knowing that many of our low socioeconomic status (SES) learners, or learners with other cultural challenges, may be lagging behind in the virtual classroom means that the most successful teachers will be those who actively reach out to learners who they suspect might be struggling and engage them in one-on-one learning where possible.

Thought:- Which of the learners need extra help this week? D) Utilize technology to leverage the best of what e-learning has to offer: . .. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . The greatest benefit that e-learning has is the progress that is being made each month in both artificial intelligence and technology. While the COVID-19 pandemic has set us back, it has also garnered a boom in education technology. There are more exciting advances in educational technology happening now than perhaps at any time in the past.

Thought:- What new technology (apps/ websites/ tools) can add value in the classroom and how to integrate it into the learning process?

3 Ways To Achieve Behavioral Change Via eLearning

Behavioral change is the biggest indicator of successful learning and is the hardest to achieve. In the case of soft skills training, compliance training, even sales training, a behavioral change should be the expected output and not just completion of the training. To achieve behavioral change, we need to rethink and restructure our learning systems. Here are 3 effective ways the L&D departments could use to ensure behavioral change through eLearning.

1.- Microlearning: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . James Clear in his breakthrough book Atomic Habits gives a great example while illustrating how tiny changes give remarkable results. Imagine a plane that is en route to New York from Los Angeles. While taking off, if the pilot changes the course by 3.5 degrees to the south, no one on the plane will even notice this change. However, this tiny change will have the plane land in Washington, D.C. instead of New York. Of course, you would not want to be on this plane, but the point James Clear wants to emphasize is that tiny changes can bring out a considerable amount of impact over the time.

Similarly, Microlearning can act as a catalyst of tiny changes aimed at substantial behavioral changes in employees. Microlearning is not a technological solution to L&D; it is a learning strategy and needs to be implemented as one. A daily DOs and DON’Ts email, a weekly video about best practices, a fortnightly gamified quiz with leaderboards, a very short course about latest product updates for sales team can all become tools to use Microlearning. Behavioral Change will require continuous reinforcement. Learning is a continuous process. To implement Microlearning successfully, we need to:

        i.            Set the trajectory of the learning initiatives according to the behavioral change we want to achieve.

       ii.            Break all learning content into tiny milestones, each milestone addressing and contributing to the big change.

     iii.            Let these Milestones decide the frequency and duration of Microlearning resources.

     iv.            Use the best possible delivery platform that adheres to the new strategy.

2.- Continuous Learning: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Traditionally L&D has suffered through the course-based learning wherein a learner completes a course and is deemed as ‘trained’ on something. These training programs are planned once or twice in a year, or worse, when something really disastrous indicates the need for a training program. However, the volatility of business today led by technological disruption demands a workforce that is continuously evolving. To achieve this, learning continuously is non-negotiable. Micro resources need to be used to create a stream of continuous learning. These resources need to be aligned with:

        i.            Business objectives, of that year, quarter, month or week.

       ii.            Employee’s journey in the organization – for example, what’s the point of training someone on a topic that will be relevant for them only after 3 months?

     iii.            Context is the key to achieve any sort of learner engagement.

Continuous learning will help inculcate learning habits, which will then lead to creating a culture of learning in the organization. And over time, a continuous reinforcement of relevant information will bring out the sought-after behavioral changes in the workforce.

3.- Learning Analytics: . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Every successful online consumer platform today is digging user data to analyze and evaluate the user behavior. Based on the analysis, they keep improving their platforms to evoke desired behaviors from their consumers.

While L&D measures the efficacy of their learning initiatives by measuring the time spent on a course and score earned by the learners. Of course, there are lots of reports generated from a learning delivery platform, however, most of the time the focus is on measuring whether the knowledge was imparted, and if yes, how much. Obviously, these reports do not give the insights into the patterns of interactions between the learners and the learning.

L&D needs to leave its patronizing position and treat learners as consumers of learning programs. We need to use Learning Analytical tools to measure, evaluate, and predict the learner behaviors. Learning Analytics will allow us to peek into each and every aspect of our learners like when are most of the learners learning – on the job or on weekends, on Tuesday mornings or Thursday evenings –, what are they searching for, what are they answering wrong, at what point they leave the learning platform, what excites them and what frustrates them. We will be able to create a lot more effective learning strategy moving forward. It is pretty simple – if we want to change behaviors, the first step will be to analyze the existing behaviors.

**Source Credits: a)The book-  Atomic Habits by James Clear, b)The Publication- Psychology Today (Sussex Publishers).

Content Curated By: Dr Shoury Kuttappa

#Learning and development #flexibility #adaptability #change #organizational development #leading change #learning systems #emotional intelligence #social learning #experiential learning