#thought some work in progress and some doodles would be a nice change of pace

[fruitzjarr]

I’ve been so busy lately, but I pro,is will get back to my regular post schedule soon!

[willow-salix]

Why hello there

Is there anything you would recommend a babi witch like myself studying that has been missed from my list :>

Mah list (so far):

○ Witch vs Pagan vs Wicca

○ Types of witches

○ Grey witch

○ Black witch

○ Crystals + Properties

○ Sacred geometry

○ Pentacle + Pentagram

○ Sigils

○ Protection

○ Moon phases

○ Sabbats

○ Types of salts

○ Respecting nature

○ Graveyard etiquette

○ Spirit guides

○ Divination (runes, Tarot, Coins, etc)

○ Casting a circle

○ Candle magick

○ Colour magick

○ Closed practice appropriation

○ Herbs

○ Astrology

○ Tree of life

○ Auras

○ The five clairs

○ Energy/visualisation magick

○ History of starseeds

○ Astral projection

○ Methods of meditation

○ Grounding

○ Plant magick

Ooh OK! Here goes.

First and foremost, as a witch of twenty plus years, the most important thing I can tell you is to be yourself. If this is a belief system and way of life that you want for life it has to fit in with you and your personality.

Forget everything you see on Instagram, tictok or Pinterest, it's not about the aesthetic, it's about you.

There is no room for witch shaming on my blog.

And by that I mean that EVERYONE works in different ways, at a different pace and to different levels. Never compare yourself to anyone else or how they work. Never think that you aren't doing enough or that you aren't progressing enough.

You are on your own path and that is the right one for you, so you do it your own way. You want to stop and smell the flowers? Do it. You want to dip your feet in that stream? Go for it! You want to stop and rest for a bit? Best idea ever!

You should never feel pressured to do anything that you aren't ready for or aren't comfortable with. That includes such things as blood magic, working with deity you don't feel a connection with, working skyclad, doing any kind of sexual magic or anything that makes you feel off about it. It's YOUR craft.

Be kind to yourself, don't have expectations and don't ever think you aren't good enough or worthy.

This includes making your craft unique to you. Visualisation is one of the witches most poweful tools, the magic doesn't come from the expensive athame, insence or candles, its in the heart of the witch. The power comes from you. And visualisation is your key to that but so is choosing how to make it work for you.

Take me for example, I'm this loveable thundernerd witch, so that reflects in my craft.

In circle (mediumship development) we did a meditation and I was directed to the beach. So what beach did I go to...

"There's a lovely beach, I can feel the salt water on my skin, I can smell the salt in the air, there's a light breeze that's rustling the leaves on the palm trees all around me and in the distance I can hear the faint sound of someone playing the piano."

Hell yeah I was there. That's my happy place!

I need to ascend to a higher level of consciousness? Am I taking that golden winding staircase or am I calling John for the space elevator? What do you think I'm gonna choose?

I need to go lower, below the earth to go into trance? Hell I'm taking Alan's seat down.

Make it work for you.

Working with charms, that's a very important thing for me. I have lucky charms, trinkets and things everywhere. And they don't have to be pagan. I put a spell on my car to keep me safe and the car safe. Then I charged up a little TAG John and Virgil, they live in my car, Virgil is my co-pilot John is my navigator. They help me feel calm and safe.

Energy weaving is a big thing, I always do it that any energy I raise for something that doesn't already have a predetermined purpose, say for example it's full moon and I'm bouncing around outside, everything I raise I direct out to the earth as healing. I'll raise my arms to the heavens and say : I send this energy out to anyone or anything that needs it right now, I send my love and healing into the wind and trust that it will be taken to where it can do the mslt good.

Talking to other witches about how they do things and how they work is sooooo important. That's why I'm not in a tradition ( alexandrian, gardnerian etc) because I don't like having just one way to do things. That doesn't work for most people, they just won't admit it.

Trying different things to find a way that works for you is so much nicer and healthier than struggling to work the one way that you've been taught. So read, a lot, watch a lot of reputable youtubers (I recommend Tylluan Penry, she's amazing, a grandmother witch and a good friend of mine) and make your own choices. And remember that nothing is set in stone, we are ever evolving and every changing, if you feel the urge to try something new and work a different way, do it. You don't have to stick with it.

An astral altar, sooo important but something I don't see many people talking about. An astral altar is something you build in meditation.

You have your happy place, somewhere you feel safe and calm and protected (Tracy Island and the beach for me or my Nan and Grandads house as I remember it before they passed away) but it could be anywhere, a woodland, a house, a stream, a playground you used to love. Anything or anywhere.

Here you find a nice place that you like and you dream up /visualise your altar base, like a nice table, a tree stump, and rock, anything. And here you place all the items you might need, all the things you've dreamed about that you can't afford or the things you have in real life. And you place them all there. You keep that space, you charge it up, you spend time there and then, any time you are away form home or can't get to your altar in the real world for any reason, you have somewhere to go, somewhere to work and some where to commune.

Tools, I didn't see that on the list but might have missed it.

Anything can be a tool. That's the biggest lesson of all. Our pagan ancestors would have used whatever they had to hand, no tools were single use or bought for the purpose of their craft. A cauldron was cooked in all week, a knife is used to chop everything and then used to direct energy.

These days we have the resources (and don't have to hide) to be able to have specific tools that we use only for our craft, but they don't have to be expensive. Go to a thrift store or buy cheap on eBay, a letter opener is an athame, a single wine glass can be a chalice, a pretty bowl is your offering bowl, a single plate is an offering plate, mismatched candle stick holders. All valid and will work just as well. The tools are a focus, they are NOT the source of our power.

Another tip, make witchcraft part of your every day life. Make it as natural and normal as everything else you do. It's part of your life and should be treated as such.

Making coffee in the morning? Set your intentions for the day and focus on it as you make it. You want to draw positivity? Stir doesil (clockwise) that's attracting. Want to rid yourself of the bad mood you had yesterday? Stir widdershins (counterclockwise) that's banishing. Not got anything? Stir a pentagram and call it good.

Sigils, doodle them everywhere (if you want a quick lesson on how to draw them and make up your own, let me know). Charm the shit out of everything.

Whisper a food blessing before you make food or eat. Bring that abundance in.

Trail your fingers along a wall or bushes to feel the energy as you walk.

Everything is magical to a witch.

Read mythology stories, it helps us learn and helps us connect to the stories of our pantheons and deity.

And heres the biggest thing I can tell you. Don't worry about getting things wrong. It's how we learn and honestly there is no such thing as wrong as long as your intentions are right.

Wording of spells doesn't matter, the intention and feeling behind them does.

You can do a cleansing by saying : Blessed spirit, Father God, mother goddess, I ask that you bless this house/tool /space and help drive out any negativity. Spirits that reside, if you're good you may stay, if you wish me halm, then please leave.

Nothing wrong with that.

Or you do a me: Mother Goddess, Father God, I'm back. Help me out here please, I need to cleanse this shit. Yo, spirits, good guys, ya chill, bad shit, get the fuck out! I'm the witch I'm in charge, do as you're told *claps hands all over the place and follows up with a cloud of vape smokes because my intention is in my breath and I'm blowing that negativity away*

And last but not least. I'm sure you've heard "Ever mind the rule of three, what you send out comes back to thee" That's very true, try to only send out good if you can. But you're human and it won't always happen, you'll have bad thoughts and negative emotions, that's normal and fine. Just don't do it with nastiness in your heart.

"and if it harms none, do what you will."

There's a line here most people don't know... "do no harm. But take no shit."

Because the one person most witches forget to look out for is themselves. Being good, doing good and being positive is great, but not at the expense of yourself. If it harms you, don't do it.

Love and light, and bright blessings to you. X

[soundofseventeen]

Cupid’s Chokehold (Kwon Soonyoung)

Hi, I’m excited for this one!!!! I haven’t written anything this good for Hoshi since 7 Things, so here we are!!! I hope y’all like it!!!!!

Inspo: Cupid’s Chokehold

Word count: 6910

Relationship fourteen: met at an amusement park where he hit on the person operating a ride; ended over Soonyoung being 10 minutes late to a date. Time together: Three days short of a four month relationship.

*

Relationship fifteen: met at one of the shopping malls when he was ordering a juice at the food court; ended over Soonyoung racing to keep you company when your date stood you up at a coffee shop. Time together: 24 days.

*

Relationship sixteen:

“Guys, guys, guys, meet my girlfriend!”

In the split second that you looked up from the Superstar Pledis game, you lost your momentum, missed one of the notes, and lost any hope that you could beat the high score challenge, so you just hoped that Soonyoung’s latest fling would be worth losing this. Okay you were exaggerating a little but in your defense you needed all the RP points to help upgrade one of your better cards. You let yourself fail the game and looked up again with a smile on your face. 

“Hi!” Mingyu said brightly, beating you to the punchline and pushing your legs off his lap to stand up and introduce himself better. He took one of her hands in both of his and shook it eagerly. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine.” 

You noted that while a little awkward, she didn’t look terrible. (Not that you were judging, but a lot of Soonyoung’s….past loves weren’t always the nicest.You’re looking at relationships three, six and seven here.) 

“You must be Y/N. Soonie talks about you all the time.” 

Soonie.

It took all your self control to not wrinkle your nose in disdain. Literally, every one of his exes called him that, so naturally you hated it. Okay not hated, but it made you wonder if the nickname held some kind of curse because not one relationship succeeded.

“The one and only.” You did however, squint your eyes at her, not recognizing her. “I’m sorry I don’t think we met.”

“I’m Aiko. I work at the vet where Soonie occasionally brings his dog in.”

Ah, no wonder he’s been bugging Seungcheol about his newest love and taking Kkooma out. You opted to stay quiet and not bust your best friend. Yet. He would eventually bust himself. But you had to admit that you were impressed with how often he changed parts of his persona...at least when you didn’t have to scold him how it wasn’t necessary and that the right person would adore him the way he was. 

But, you still had to give her the credit where it was due. “Awww. Which is your favorite pet that’s been by?”

“Definitely the bunnies. We have some clients that own a rabbit farm so we see them a lot.”

“I love bunnies!” Your lips formed a pout, almost crying at the state of fluffy tails and funky teeth biting into the vegetables clouded your thoughts. You snuck a peek at Soonyoung who had hesitantly pulled a thumbs up sign and you gave him the smallest of nods which was the biggest sign for Soonyoung to start smiling widely and that little crack in your heart to split open again.

They didn’t stay much longer; Soonyoung literally just ran to his room to change clothes and grab his charger so no one really had the chance to talk to Aika other than the basics to avoid the awkward silence.

*

You had long ago stopped crying over Soonyoung seeing past you and going for another person but that didn’t mean the pain lessened. (thank you relationship number four.) You were always “my bestest friend in the entire world” or “my platonic soulmate who knows me better than anyone”, never more and you hated it. You just wanted to one day be someone he saw in a different light or at least find one who was like you. Maybe that would hurt less. 

But maybe you were just happy that you didn’t lose sleep over him like you used to or wept into the armrest of your couch watching reruns of the shows you binged watched together.There was some normalcy back in your life but the pain still somehow managed to hit you as hard as it did the first time Soonyoung brought someone around you. 

“No, you dumbass! She’s right there!” You angrily flicked your hand at your phone screen in front of you. Okay, maybe you figured that if you experienced this in real life (as you had many, many times) you realized that even if the person Hoshi ended up with someone who was exactly like you, it’d be a blow to your heart and you weren’t sure how you’d react to that.

“No, don’t go with her...don’t you dare take another….okay, fine ignore me. But don’t come crying to me when you fuck it up.” You really needed to stop watching these movies. Yes, you always knew how it ended, but that didn’t mean your anger wasn’t real. And you just kinda highkey wished it’d happen to you.

“Please stop yelling at your phone and get out of this car before I forcibly take it from you,” Soonyoung threatened.

“You were the one who wanted to come with me to wash my clothes so you’re doing everything at my pace and I swear if you break-”

“Slow down baby...you’re goin’ too fast baby!”

You smacked him. “Listen, if you don’t want all of South Korea to know you’re here, keep your voice down.” 

He clicked a finger gun in your direction and slid out the driver’s side. “Gotcha. But seriously speaking, are you sure that you don’t mind that I invited Aika to hang out with us later?”

“I mean, I have to get to know her eventually, right?” You smiled a little at him. It had been a couple days since the initial introduction but you didn’t know anything else besides the obvious, and her lack of social media posts didn’t help. (You may have stalked her a little.) You finally unbuckled your seatbelt and slid your phone back into your pocket to bring two carts for your dirty laundry.

If it had been up to you, you would’ve come to the laundromat by yourself just have some time for yourself. Being around Seventeen nearly 24/7 took a lot of energy from you, but not in a bad way; you just liked having peace and quiet sometimes. But Soonyoung took it upon himself to use one of his only days off to accompany you and spend the morning with you. He even went as far as bringing breakfast to wake you up. 

He helped you with the detergent and softeners and other essentials because you would’ve been mortified at the thought of him taking your dirty clothes. You werent sure why but you didnt like the thought of him touching anything. He whistled some Shinee song as he walked inside, already knowing which spot you liked. But before you could actually start loading the washing machines, you needed to reload your card because this particular laundromat didn’t use coins anymore. 

You could feel your phone calling out to you to resume your watching and you were tempted to but you needed to do all this first. You took your money out the wallet and topped up the balance and once the washing machines were ready to go, you sat down at one of the tables, your finger itching to hit the play button and proceeded to ignore the rest of the world. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed but you were vaguely aware of Soonyoung disappearing for a moment and returning with the bag of breakfast, sliding a disposable tray to you and setting down a carton of juice. Then he quietly brought out a notebook and doodled on it. Your favorite thing about Soonyoung? He knew when you didn’t wanna be bothered, so he often found ways to entertain himself. Sometimes he watched his own thing; sometimes he read one of Wonwoo’s recommendations; and sometimes he worked on choreo. When it got too silent for his liking, he FaceTimed Chan so he could see exactly what he was working with and any adjustments that could be made. 

“Tell the future of kpop I said hey,” you said absently, taking one of the pre-sliced waffles and biting into it. The plot in front of you had progressed drastically, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to stop watching or keep it going because every move and every word hurt your heart. 

“You tell him! Okay Dino, it looks good, but now try the spin counter clockwise. I wanna see how that looks.”

You stopped watching long enough to put it away and focus on Soonyoung as he went into choreographer mode. Though he was sitting, you watched the way his hands moved and if you stood up, you knew’d be seeing them trying to mirror each other’s actions.

“Hyung, what if we did this-” you could hear Chan’s heavy breathing with the way some nonexistent tempo increased and the way his sneakers squeaked on the floor. “-instead of..” More squeaking and you were pretty sure he had thrown himself on the floor. “This? And if we circle around I’m thinking maybe Mingyu hyung, it could work.”

Soonyoung clapped, bobbing...or probably counting in his head, most likely picturing whatever he saw Dino doing, and smiled brightly. “I like it! If we can saturate the movement a little more-” more hand movements and a couple of foot stomps, “- I think we can get him to pull it off.” He stood up, made sure he wasn’t disturbing anyone else and mimicked the younger boy’s action.

You nodded along, breaking out into your own smile at watching him. Your heart ached for him, but you knew you had to content yourself with how you were. You couldn’t risk losing him.

*

“I’m telling you Y/N, I think she could be the one,” Soonyoung sighed dreamily. 

“So you’re telling me that because this woman makes you pancakes any time you visit her in the morning, she’s made for you?” you stared off into space, making a confused face as to how in the world that could add up. “You don’t even like breakfast foods.”

“But when she makes them...oh my god. I even told my mom about her.”

You didn’t have it in you to tell him that not only did his mom video call you and shake her head at the proclamation, but she also expressed her worry about him jumping into a new relationship every time he came home with a broken heart and how one day, he wouldn’t be able to go back to himself. You understood her; since Seventeen’s debut, he had been in 15 different relationships, more than all the boys put together, none of which lasted longer than eight months. (Needless to say, you kept track.)

“You believe me, right?”

“Eat your ice cream Soonie.”

“You know it doesn’t even sound cute when you say it.” He wrinkled his nose at you. “Just for that, you’re paying for our dessert.” He pulled out his wallet and slid it out to you. “Go.”

You pulled out his credit card, frowning a little.

“What?”

“Nothing...it’s just don’t you keep a picture of Aiko in here?”

“Nah, I’m new school.”

“Didn’t you steal one of the boys’ phones the other day to complain to the phone company that yours stopped working?”

“Hey, it wasn’t my fault that I forgot that it was still updating. Shut up.”

You threw your head back and laughed before going to pay the nice lady for some of the best homemade treats you ever tasted. You patted Soonyoung’s head fondly, resisting the urge to wrap your arms around his neck and just hugging him for being so funny. Good thing too, because when the little bell dinged announcing a new arrival, the Japanese beauty came in and Soonyoung was up so fast, he nearly dropped the chair. He spoke animatedly, doing some kind of handshake you knew was only for them and then pointed to you, which you waved politely and pushed her your way.

“Always hyperactive, isn’t he?” she laughed when she joined you. “I told him I just had lunch but he swears the muffins are the best here. What do you think?”

“They’re good if you have a sweet tooth, but I personally like the cookies.”

“I’ll have whatever you like then,” Aiko smiled at you. “I’m sorry if I’m awkward by the way. I’m nervous.”

“About? Hi, I’ll take some of those too, and then we’ll be ready to pay.”

“Soonie talks about you like you put the stars in the sky so I’m a little scared to say the wrong thing.” Not the first time you heard that, but you heard it with relationship number 10 (you think.)

“Honestly, just treat him right, and we’ll be okay.” She didn’t have to know how unlucky Soonyoung was...the cheaters, the manipulators, the insecure ones who swore you were stealing him away, the ones who wanted him for his fame and/or fortune and even a couple who only used him to get to you. Every single one ended up with him at your house in the middle of the night and the cheap takeout place that delivered at any hour seemed to be his only cure. Most of the time he didn’t go home and called the leader to say he wouldn’t be going to work the next day. Some days, he used the time to go to the beach or out of town, but sometimes he liked staying in and watching movies...both of which included you.

“Okay.” She received the bag of sweets from the old lady and skipped back to her boyfriend who placed his hand on her hair and kissed it and then gave you two thumbs up. That was your cue to leave, despite him insisting you stay but you really needed to put your laundry away before you decided to leave it by your entrance until it was time to wash again. (Or so you reasoned with yourself to not interrupt them.) Aiko seemed to be the best one for Soonyoung so far, and while it still killed you to see him with someone else, at least she was nice about things. You slipped out, noticed only by your best friend who looked betrayed at you leaving but you texted him your excuse. 

It did, however, surprise you when you opened your front door and you cried all over again, the bitter tears stinging for feeling like a bad person for not wanting it to go as well as it was.

*

“Special delivery!” you cried out to the boys at Pledis in their practice room a month later. “I’ve got some things for my favorite boys.” Comeback season always proved to be more strenuous than the last and you hated how little you saw of them. In their earlier days, you would’ve seen at least one of them roaming Seoul, but alas.

“You’re a lifesaver!” Hansol took one of the plastic bags from you and dug through it, frowning when that one didn’t hold what he was looking for.

“I never said these were for you. I was talking about Nu’est.” (Dongho had taken your treats to his group mates though, but they didn’t need to know that.) However, you handed him the correct bag and he pulled out a small bag of M&Ms, yelling triumphantly and they took turns searching for their requested items.

“Where’s Tiger Brain?” you asked, looking around. He had originally asked you to bring him another pair of sweats because he had ripped them. Again. They currently hung over your arm while you picked the lint off of them.

“Recording studio.” Jihoon opened his can of Coke and somehow managed to drink the whole thing in a single chug. Impressive if not concerning.

“Why?” You counted 12 heads, three different times. No one else was missing. 

“Aiko’s here and she looks pissed.” Junhui then stuffed his face with the lunch you brought for him, in case he had said too much.

“I haven’t done anything!” Your reflexive defense whenever things had gotten rocky for the lovebird in paradise. Always true, but no one ever seemed to believe you until they had seen that you did indeed mind your business. This time was no different.

“We never said you did. Chill.”

“Do I need to go in and clarify something?”

“That might make it worse.” Minghao looked around to see if anyone would hear them. “When she asked for him, it was because she wanted to talk to him about his dog...or rather Cheol’s dog.”

So she found out. “It isn’t something to be mad over.” You had known people who did that, but no one ever had to stop working in the middle of the day over it. 

“When i went to ask him for the notebook with the new dance, she was telling him about the phone call he had with you.”

“Which one?” Now you could feel the annoyance tingling at your fingertips. You always called him and he you, none of which were ever important. The most recent one being him calling you at 2:33 last night (er this morning) when he asked if he should dye his hair red or green or maybe yellow….to which you yelled at him for waking you up. But how did she know about that one? For one moment you wondered if she found a way to bug your phone...it happened in relationship number five. Creepy and unsettling and the paranoia still hadn’t left you.

“I guess she saw you the other day shopping for groceries-”

“You know, sometimes my stomach likes to remind me that I need to be fed. Just a crazy thought.”

Minghao pointed at you dramatically. “This is my story time, peasant.” He waited for you to close your mouth again. “Now, I don’t know what the gist was but apparently you saw her and said something about going to the beach with him.”

Classic word twisting...relationships one through now apparently. “Yeah, we were thinking that after this comeback that we wanted to take everyone out because, you know, you all work hard and don’t take any breaks.” Originally, it had been just for you two, then Seungcheol and Jihoon had cut into the conversation, wanting Soonyoung’s opinion for something they wrote, and from there, Soonyoung said something about a leader line getaway with you, and then Wonwoo’s voice sounded and before you knew it, bam...beach day with OT13. You had a run in with her around that time and you talked about it, but she didn’t seem bothered by it. But you had felt sick now about it, so you smiled and handed the sweats over to one of the boys and decided to go home before you got caught here. On your way out, you picked up a few wrappers that they managed to throw on the floor and went to throw them away when you saw a stack of burned pancakes inside.

“Aiko brings him breakfast some mornings but when she’s in a bad mood, she burns them,” Joshua said quietly dumping his own trash in there. “It’s been happening a lot.”

You said nothing. The one thing about Soonyoung’s relationships you didn’t keep track of? How many of them felt threatened by you near the end. You had lost count.

*

The time on your phone displayed 12:46 am when someone knocked on your door and Soonyoung’s I’m outside text followed shortly after. You sighed a deep sigh, one that came from your tired soul because you knew this was coming and you could feel the beginning of end. The end being your patience hollowing before you expressed how tired you were of his stupidity and possibly ruined your friendship. 

“Let’s go out tomorrow,” he said as his greeting. “I feel like we haven’t done anything together lately.”

“Comeback season, remember?” You wanted to shake your head at him, noticing the way he was wired up and in the way you wanted see him

“But that’s not really an excuse to ditch you. My treat.” He smiled at you hopefully, pleading for you to say yes so you nodded. 

You picked up your phone, ready to place an order on the familiar app. “Are you hungry?”

“Yes! I thought you’d never ask!”

In the middle of his kimchi soup dinner, he spilled everything, not even looking at you as he told you everything you missed. You didn’t bring up being at Pledis or seeing the spoiled food, and you could tell he was grateful.

“Hey Y/N?”

“What?”

“Is there something wrong with me?”

You wanted to joke about the infinite number of things just to make him smile, but in his vulnerable state, you couldn’t, just because you knew how he’d take it to heart. (You’ve learned from that mistake.) You just shook your head. “You’re human.” He nodded slowly, trying to enjoy his dinner, but slurping but slurping the noodles so slowly. You sighed. 

Relationship ended over: Jealousy and insecurity. Time together: two months, two weeks.

*

Relationship seventeen: Soonyoung accompanied Jeonghan to get a car fixed and flirted with the secretary; ended over the secretary accusing Jeonghan of trying to scam the company when you somehow got involved saying you had saved some receipts; time together: 43 days.

*

Relationship eighteen: attempted to rekindle something with your neighbor across the street; ended over the neighbor being engaged; time together: 0 days

*

Relationship nineteen: befriended a tourist and offered himself to show off the sites and best places to visit. (No mention of you, but details); ended when the tourist had to go back home but the pair promised to remain friends; time together 20 days

*

Relationship twenty:

“You’re in my seat.”

You looked up at the stranger confused, the fluorescents of Pledis lights blinding you momentarily. “I’m sorry, I always sit here. I’m waiting for my friends to get here-” You blinked, trying to adjust to the lighting.

“Bongcha, you’re here!” Though the voice was very familiar, you were very confused when Soonyoung dashed by you and ran to the stranger….Bongcha, you assumed her name was, and hugged her. “It’s so good to see you!” he turned to you. “Hey you! I wasn’t expecting to see you today!” He made this grand hand gesture to the person he was talking to, not even wondering why you were here this early. “This is Bongcha! She’s my girlfriend. Bongcha, this is the spectacular, marvelous, beautiful, wonderful, talented, amazing-”

“Are you gonna get to the point soon or are you just gonna waste your breath?” Mini tour season, you guessed? He was only ever this hyped up whenever someone told him they were going to sing their hearts out.

“Y/N,” he finished. “My best friend in the whole entire world that I adore to bits even when I’m treated like this.”

Bongcha nodded at you once she looked you over, but didn’t say much else. “I was waiting to see if you’re done with rehearsals so we can go have dinner.”

Okay, she wasn’t gonna acknowledge your presence, which you were fine with. You weren’t here to see her, or even Soonyoung, really. But dinner already? It was still somewhere between the breakfast/lunch area. Whatever though. “Do you know if Seokmin is done with whatever you’re doing?” you asked him instead.

His mouth formed an ‘o’. “You’re finally gonna take my advice and one of my friends? I like it.”

“Gross, no. He wanted to know if he could tag along with me to the eye doctor and I said I’d meet him here.”

“But you didn’t ask me?” He looked hurt, despite the fact his girlfriend was there, clinging to his arm, ready to pull away when she heard enough.

“Our appointments are literally back to back. You’re not missing much. I’ll see you later though?”

“Okay, yeah...ye-whoa. I’ll see you later then. You’re really strong Bongcha.”

As it turned out...you needed a stronger pair of glasses, but so did Seokmin so it wasn’t a complete loss. He treated you (after looking offended at the thought of you paying your meal) to a McDonald’s lunch, raving about the time he and Wonwoo accidentally broke one of the soda machines during their predebut days and then dove into a different topic how they were hitting the road again soon just to blow off some steam and he was excited but he was gonna miss you, because he always felt like he saw you the least, so you offered to go shopping for some friendship bracelets so he wouldn’t be alone and the big baby really broke out into his big grin at the thought and ushered you out the door before you request dessert. If only your heart could want Seokmin the way it wanted Soonyoung.

Bongcha, huh?

*

Seventeen being gone meant that you could catch up (and even get ahead in some cases) on everything you neglected during your free time. Sometimes you wondered how you still had a job because of how easily you dropped it for them, but some mysteries didn’t need to be solved. 

You stocked up on groceries and snacks, and even bought yourself new bedsheets to change the theme in your room, nearly deciding to redecorate the entire place with a sudden burst of inspiration. You nulled the idea when you realized just how much effort it’d actually take, but you did compromise on silverware….and maybe even plates but nothing too crazy. 

You managed to spy Bongcha at the post office once, but she deliberately looked away before you could wave, and normally you’d be hurt about it, but there was no way that whatever she had with Soonyoung could last. You could attest to all the rude ones but it wasn’t worth telling Soonyoung about it. It’s not that he wouldn’t believe you, but he’d confront her, and then take you both somewhere to “work out your differences” and he wouldn’t leave you alone until you swore you were friends now. No thank you.

Most of the time when he called you, he let you in on the details of the small tour like who messed up the lyrics (he was looking at Seungcheol here), or how Seungkwan deciding to play marco polo in the pool and accidentally scared one of the kids when Jun pulled his leg underwater. You loved their antics and sometimes you wished you could take them up on the offer and go on tour with them at least once, but you needed your space from them. And before you knew it, they were finally done and they’d be back.

“Y/N, it could be her. I can feel it.”

Even in your sleepy haze, you could hear the ridiculousness at how he sounded. You paused the FaceTime call, clock letting you know it was 3:17 am and Seventeen was just getting home from the home country tour but he wanted to stop by her house first to surprise her. He had been giving you shit about always going to the first and last concerts but never more unless you had the money for it, but nonetheless letting you know the basics that happened, but now he was letting you know that he was serious about Bongcha. “Oh god.”

“I mean it. Like I talked to my dad about her and I wanna take her to home so she can meet them once we can go on vacation. You should hear the way she says my name.”

“Oh Soonie, you’re so cute. Oh Soonie, you’re the best. Oh Soonie…” you actually had to stop yourself from gagging. That nickname would be the death of you. 

“You know, it’s still not cute when you say it. I don’t know why, but I don’t like it. So just for that, you’re buying me lunch when I-” The phone clattered to the floor and you woke up finally at being dropped.

“Hosh?” Nothing. “Soonyoung?” And then you saw a brief flash of light, and then you could see the denim and you lost vision so you could assume Soonyoung threw you in his pants….or shorts….whatever. 

“What is this?!” You could finally hear him. “Who the fuck is this?!”

Oh shit….that was gonna be awkward. “Soonyoung?” Not like he could hear you but still worth a shot. “Hey, are you okay?” A deeper, unfamiliar voice spoke up, probably answering his question but still sounding muffled. You pressed the speaker as close to your ear as possible, straining to hear anything. “Soonyoung, don’t do anything stupid.” You could hear his deep breaths.

“I...you...and this...you’re joking right? This...it hasn’t been happening right?”  The way he struggled to keep his composure broke you and you just wished you could find the humor in how he spoke, so bright and so happy, the denial. “It has? Okay, well...have a nice life. Just delete my number. And you...I could so kick your ass right now. No, don’t get up.” 

“SOONYOUNG!” you yelled when you heard something break and a door slam. 

“Change of plans Y/N, I’m coming over.” He offered no other explanation and hung up on you.

*

“Is there something wrong with me?” The question you always hated to answer and with every heartbreak just made you wanna lock in his house somewhere and not leave until he didn’t have a rebound. He’s had cheating girlfriends before, but this was the first time he saw it with his own eyes, and it was different in a sense. 

Nonetheless, you were honest. “It wasn’t your fault, you know. Some people can’t stay committed.” You wanted to reach over and take his hand in yours, seep out all his pain and carry it with you, but you stayed put. He stared at his bowl of soup, not even bothering to eat it. Your own food remained untouched too, no doubt more cold than warm already. 

Soonyoung finally put his face in his hands. “What’s wrong with me Y/N? Why can’t I ever find someone who stays?”

“Do you ever think that maybe you jump into a relationship too fast without even thinking?” 

“No...I always make sure I’m over someone.”

“Twenty relationships since debut isn’t normal Soonyoung.” He raised his head to look at you, tears ready to spill out in case you said something to push him over the edge, but didn’t say anything, listening, waiting. “I think that maybe after your breakup, you come to me and then you’re here with me, and then a couple days later, it’s like you bounce back and repeat the cycle.”

“Where the hell did you get 20?” he asked, but didn’t let you explain yourself. “Where did I meet 20 people that have somehow made me their boyfriend?” 

“It’s just that...every time someone new comes into your life….you just go so into...and I don’t know...you swear they’ve become some part of your life and you look so happy….I don’t know. Twenty.”

“Do you really think that of me? Do you really think that I’m like that?”

“Soonyoung, it’s almost four in the morning; you literally came to me because your ex-girlfriend is cheating on you. You have done this every single time in the past. You just called Cheol to let him know you’re not going in tomorrow because you’re staying here. I’m sorry, but did you even ask?” you realized he never did; he just assumed you’d let him every time and you have. “Later this week, you’re gonna on your own doing who knows what because it’s all too much for you and you’re gonna meet someone. You’re gonna get to them, tell me about it and then it goes wrong.”

“It’s not 20. Hell, it’s not even 10. Am I that desperate to fill a void in my heart? But even if it was, why the hell are you counting who comes into my life?”

“Because I care! I hate seeing you like this. I can’t stand you-” 

“Okay, I’m gone.” He stood up abruptly. “I won’t come back next time.” He pulled out his wallet, took out a few bills and tossed them on the couch. “Here. I’m so sorry I ruined dinner, but I hope this makes up for it.”

“Where are you going? Take your money; I don’t want it.”

“I’m going to my dorm because apparently no one cares how I feel when I’m there. Good night.”

Relationship twenty (not twenty?): ended over a cheater; time together: three months; additional comments: thank you Bongcha for this fight. You just lost your best friend.

*

Much like Soonyoung’s relationships, you counted the days since Soonyoung stopped speaking to you. It’s been 87 days. Your texts and calls went unanswered and the boys pretty much made excuses about Soonyoung not being able to come to the phone when you called them. It didn’t matter; it was fine. You loved being ignored anyways. You didn’t need him; that's why you had your kdramas to get you through the heartache. At least things could work out in a fictional universe. 

Still you cursed yourself for ending up at Pledis and signing in at the front because apparently your pride wasn’t gonna let you have this. You waved to Hyerin who was discussing a possible collab with Beomju, but neither saw you, so  you went on your way to find anyone of the 13 boys who could help you. Your first stop was the recording section with Jihoon playing producer and Jeonghan behind the mic. Joshua was in the corner showing Seokmin how to play the song he liked and Seungkwan occasionally sang the lyrics to “I HATE YOU”  but everyone stopped everything when you opened the door. Although sudden, none of them seemed surprised to see you, but annoyed at being interrupted. 

“Where’s Soonyoung? I need to talk to him. Please don’t tell me he isn’t here.” Your voice sounded tired, and if you heard any type of rejection, you were sure to cry.

“Practice room,” Jihoon said at last, lips pursed, ready to tell you more but thought against it. “It’s a unit day practice so he’s probably showing them a new routine.” He turned his attention back to Jeonghan. “Sorry Hyung. Take it from the top please.”

Seokmin flashed you a quick thumbs up before handing the guitar to Joshua and you just hoped he’d be there. You ran into Vernon on your way over, showing you some parts of the latest rap, and you just accepted the bad omen. Because really, what could be worse than him saying “goodbye��? At least he treated you as if it wasn’t the last time he was gonna see you, but you weren’t sure if that was a good thing and then he disappeared into the room with the vocal unit practiced.

You took a deep breath when you arrived, preparing for the worst, and you knocked gently. You waited a few seconds then you opened the door and were immediately greeted with loud music. Chan and Minghao were stretching on the floor, laughing at some joke and Junhui wiped the sweat from his face. They weren’t surprised to see you either, but now you wanted to know who spilled that you were here because it hadn’t even been five minutes, according to your phone, but man it felt longer than that. The three wordlessly pointed to the furthest corner where Soonyoung chugged a bottle of water in record time.

“Hyung?” Chan called out and he reflexively turned around. “You have a visitor.”

He nodded and the boys dispersed pretty quickly, leaving only the awkward silence, tension and more distance between you than you would’ve liked. You took his sweet time coming to you, making you more nervous by the second. He normally ran up to you as if you had been gone for years and he couldn’t wait to be at arm’s length. You just wanted him to return to normal, or even just run you out of his life already. You couldn’t handle this anymore. By the time he reached you, you wanted him to stay faraway from you. Your hands clammed up and the fight or flight response kicked.

“It hasn’t been 20 relationships,” he said quietly. “It hasn’t even been half, probably half of those at most.” he kicked at the floor. “God why would you even think that? Why couldn’t you ever think I missed you after a long day?”

“You were never at my door unless you wanted to forget someone.”

“Do you think it‘s easy to forget you? Did you ever think that there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to be with, relationship or not? Finding you in everyone was exhausting. Okay, maybe a few of them did get past the whole, ‘maybe-I-can-get-over-Y/N’ phase, but, it’s hard.”

“No, don’t do that.” you shook your head, not quite believing what you were hearing.

“You’re my best friend Y/N. I hate everything we’ve come to because I can’t think straight. Okay yeah, maybe every time something finishes, I think that maybe I can tell you, but then you’re here next to me, and I don’t wanna fuck it up. Did you know I had a dream one time where you had fallen in love with me but i didn’t notice because I was flirting with someone named Minseo and when you finally told me, i was already with her, but you told me in a letter and I told you to get out of my life?”

“Soonyoung, who would be stupid enough to do that? Of all things someone can do.” And then you smacked him. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Do you know much we could’ve avoided. I’ve kept track of all of them...everyone that hurt you, everyone you hurt, mutual fallouts, it’s all there. Why did you wait until all this happened?” You could feel yourself falling to the floor in relief.

“What do you mean why did I wait this long? I want to stay in your life even if you don’t feel that way about me.” He joined you on the floor. “I’m sorry for walking away the other night. But please tell me about shit like this because I can tell you how many girlfriends I’ve had. But that was my bad too…” he rambled off.

“I’m sorry for accusing you,” you stared at his shoes, your shoes. He wanted his shoe to nudge yours; you could see it; you wanted him to do it too. “You’re not exactly easy to forget either. I guess I forget that you’re a big part of my life and not having you around,” you took a deep breath, “it hurts. But I want you to be happy with your life choices and who you end up with, even if it isn’t with me.”

Soonyoung nodded, not really quite sure what to do with the information. He stayed quiet though, sliding closer to you until your shoulders were touching and he finally bumped his shoe with yours. He stared at his reflection, then yours, focusing on the way you stared at your feet bumping into each other. “Hey Y/N?” 

You looked up at him shyly, and you could swear you heard his heartbeat picking up. “Yeah?” He caressed your cheek gingerly and tilted your chin up to meet his maze and pressed a soft kiss to your lips

*

“Are you still there?”

You waited a few seconds before you answered, a smile making its way across your face. “Yeah.”

 “Okay, good. What are you doing right now?”

“Eww, I think I liked it better when you guys weren’t dating.” Wonwoo. “At least you spared us these conversations.”

“Nothing since the last time you asked. I’m in the living room right now. Are you coming over today?”

“If you want me to. How’s Tigger?” You could hear him say something to Wonwoo and the other person there, most likely asking him about some color schemes.

“Down for his nap. I guess the shot tired him out, but I can at least get more things done.” 

“Yeah, we adopted a cat and we named him Tigger; we got him earlier this week and we just took him to the vet this morning. Yeah, we’re painting the bathroom tomorrow. How much is the total?”

“Damn, move in already. You guys are gross. Wait, is that...Y/N guess what?!”

“What?” You jumped at being acknowledged suddenly. “I don’t need to go take him my credit card, do I?”

“No.”

The warm fuzzy feeling crept up into your insides. Somehow it had all come together after his years of heartache. His parents had been thrilled when they found out when you got together, and it seemed that the boys breathed collective sighs of relief at seeing you two, but nothing compared to what Wonwoo said next.

“He has a picture of you in his wallet and he carries it with him everywhere.”

[jeaniegreysummers]

yours || jean & scott

summary: jean and scott get married in the botanical gardens. they’re very excited. no sentinel interrupts the vows. the universe said jott rights, for at least fifteen minutes.

when: june 15th, 3pm 

trigger warnings: some brief mentions of past trauma, but this is 99.9% fluff, baby! we can do it!

featuring: scott summers

JEAN: Nothing about this day felt normal. Nothing about it felt like something she could’ve prepared for, even if she had, as she’d told Erik, spent decades planning what she would wear, what she would say, what song they would dance to after the ceremony before the party kicked off. In her heart, she’d always known if she was getting married, it would be to Scott Summers. She’d also known that the chances of it happening were slim to none. Mutants didn’t get happy endings. The storybook style final chapter wasn’t written with their people in mind. They were born, they were ostracised, they fought or they didn’t, they died young.

Scott had almost been another statistic. Jean had almost been another statistic. But they were here today, and her best friend’s arm was linked through hers, the satin of her glove comforting against Jean’s arm, and the music was beginning to swell.

She didn’t need the Phoenix to make her chest feel like it had expanded ten times over. She didn’t need her parents’ approval, didn’t need her mother to tell her she was making the right choice, didn’t need her father winking and saying that Jean had always been his favorite because she had a good head on her shoulders. She didn’t need to talk it over with a friend, or play a chess game with her own morality. She didn’t need to do any of that.

Scott had always been the simplest part of her life. He’d always been the one choice, the constant choice, that she never needed to question. . The door opened, and Jean looked up from the flowers in her clasped hands, just in time to see Scott looking up at her too.

They never got the chance for a rehearsal, not with the measures that were necessary to put in place to make this even possible, the mechanisms they ensured to keep their family safe. Jean was glad of it then, because it felt like the longest walk in human history even the first time around, one step in front of another until finally she was under the arch, eyes still firmly on Scott, her cheeks aching with a grin she’d been holding back until right that moment.

“Hi,” she said, a little too loud considering the drop of the music. A low wave of laughter went through the onlookers, but it sounded like noise coming from above the water while she was six metres under. The only person she could see was him.

He’d always been the only one she could see, the only one she wanted to.

As the officiant gathered himself, Jean’s grin turned into a softer smile, her hand reaching for Scott’s. ’Nice suit,’ she projected. ’I think we’re officially hotter than prom.’

SCOTT: The day itself was an oxymoron. If you’d told Scott at practically any point in his life after he’d met her that he’d one day be straightening his tie and preparing to marry Jean Grey in a garden surrounded by everyone he loved, Scott would have been both utterly unsurprised and entirely disbelieving. The day was both impossible and inevitable, the natural progression of the story and the dream he’d never let himself believe could truly happen. He was marrying Jean, because of course he was, and he was caught somewhere in between having known it all along and having never hoped for a moment so perfect.

No one could blame him for the disbelief, he supposed. It had taken so much to get them here, so many things dominoing atop one another to make this possible. There was a graveyard behind the mansion where they’d grown up, and both their names were carved in granite there. They’d held one another in their arms and felt the life drain from each other’s bodies, attended funerals, met again in the afterlife. And now, here they were. Scott Summers and Jean Grey, preparing themselves to walk down an aisle. Wasn’t this always how things were going to go?

The arch cast a shadow over him, providing some quiet semblance of shade as he stood with his back to the priest, watching the door intently. He could feel her on the other side of it, had to make a conscious effort not to walk towards her. It was always like that, when Jean was around. Scott was a moon in orbit, with her wherever she went, caught by her gravity and unable to pull himself away even if he’d wanted to. (And he’d never wanted to, not even for a moment.) He could feel a few eyes on him, knew that some people were watching, and he wanted to laugh at the absurdity of that. Who in their right mind would be looking at Scott knowing that Jean Grey was about to walk through the door? . The door opened, and Scott felt the breath leave his lungs all at once. She looked beautiful, just as she always did. She was grinning, and he knew he was, too, watching as she walked towards him at a pace unbearably slow. Finally, finally she was in front of him, and Scott reached a hand up to move a strand of hair behind her ear absently. “Hi,” he replied, utterly oblivious to everything and everyone but her.

He huffed a quiet laugh as her hand found his, nodding his head. No slime this time, he agreed. Though I’m sure Bobby will be saying something inappropriate any moment now. There was a quiet lapse as the officiant spoke, saying something Scott couldn’t quite hear over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears. You look beautiful, he told her, though it seemed a rather obvious thing to think. How did I ever convince you to marry me? I must be more charming than I thought. Or insanely lucky.

JEAN: She never fantasised about a wedding like movies and the media said she should. At nineteen years old, she didn’t plan this day to the letter, didn’t decide on her color scheme, didn’t look up review after review to find the best cake flavor combinations or practice plaiting her own hair. She thought about it, of course. Jean Grey has been doodling Scott Summers’ name in hearts, and his surname after her own, since long before they even admitted what they were to each other, long before they kissed, long before even their closest friends saw the inevitable happening right before their eyes.

The part of a wedding she had always desired (perhaps because Jean never failed to be the centre of attention in her life; perhaps because she knew from twenty years of working together that marriage wasn’t the end chapter but a beginning; perhaps because Scott inspired a practicality and realism in her no one else could) was the after. When the rustle of red dresses were gone, and she could breathe again without her own hastily amended wedding dress cutting into her side, and the flowers had wilted long ago, and she woke up on the sofa in a tiny apartment with her head on Scott’s chest, rising and falling rhythmically, predictably, as he slept.

Perhaps she should be a little more romantic about the day that served as a bridge between past and present — but recent events had proven every single day spent with Scott was something to be cherished. They could count on loving each other to the last day, but when that was had always been uncertain.

’I’ve pressed his mute button,’ Jean replied. ’He’s being cut off from the cake supply if he makes one pun before the end of the ceremony. The after party is fair game, though. I couldn’t ask too much of him.’ . (We are gathered here today ... matrimony, commended to be honorable, but not to be entered into lightly, but reverently ... if any person can show just cause why they should not be joined together ...)

Jean squeezed Scott’s hand gently, her thumb brushing over the still bare skin on his finger. There would be metal there, within a matter of moments. Nothing would change, but it felt like everything would be different.

’Kara is a master with braids,’ she replied, though she had the distinct impression Scott wasn’t talking about her hair. ’You don’t look so bad yourself, Summers. I always wondered what it would take to get you back into a suit.’ A suit that wasn’t emblazoned with a giant yellow or red X, a suit that didn’t come with a mission statement, a suit that he wasn’t going to war in.

This was the only day Jean could think of in their lives where they hadn’t been fighting something, or planning to fight, or recovering from one. She wasn’t naive enough to think it would last, but it was nice. Just living, just being alive, with Scott was really, really nice.

’That one’s easy,’ Jean said, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards only slightly. ’Bishop isn’t on the continent. My options were going for the second choice, or wait for him to stop beating up DoomBots. You’re a very attractive alternative, Mr. Summers.’

The officiant had stopped talking. Jean tore her gaze from Scott to see the older man looking at her expectedly. . “Vows,” he whispered, and Jean nodded, reaching for the piece of paper tucked into the ribbon around her flowers.

“Just double checking — you can all hear me, right?” Jean asked, turning slightly to the crowd of smiling faces. “We’re not doing the brain meld thing? Okay, good, because I want you all to hear this.” She met Scott’s gaze through the red of his lenses, only slightly obscured by her own reflection. “I want everyone to hear how I feel about you all the time. I want to scream it from the rooftops, and broadcast it on every channel. Every second of every day, I am always so, so amazed that I’m the one you chose to spend your life standing beside, and I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for you.

“I looked up a lot of very important people talking about marriage, giving their advice and wisdom, and some of it was pretty good. Some of it made sense. Some of it I’d never really thought about before. But you and me, Slim? We’re one of a kind. We’ve been through a lot together. We’re undoubtedly about to go through a lot more. There is no one I would rather face the world with than you. There is no one who gives me faith that there is hope at the end of the tunnel than you. They say marry your best friend, and I say I never had any other choice. You walked into my life and you infuriated me and comforted me. You never backed away when people were afraid. You never doubted me, even when you should. You never stopped, and you brought me back to myself. You brought me back to you.” . Jean cleared her throat, folding the paper together once more and passing it back to Rogue. “There’s a lot of things I could say today, and we would be here for another decade and a half,” Jean said, “but that’s the most important thing I could think of. No matter what happens, no matter who I become, no matter how you change, no matter how the world changes, I will come back to you. I will always come back to you. I love you, Scott Summers, every day in every version — and I can’t wait to keep being the reason for that smile, because it’s my favorite thing in the whole world.”

SCOTT: Happiness had never been an easy thing to find with Scott. As a young child, he’d been too preoccupied ensuring his brother’s happiness to care much about his own. Those first few years of his life had been about Alex and only Alex. Had he gotten his homework done? Did he have lunch money in his account? Did he need a permission slip signed? Was he hovering outside their mother’s closed door again, wondering why she hadn’t made it out of bed that week? Alex was the priority before their parents died and after…

After that plane went down, all of Scott’s energy went into surviving. Alex was gone, being taken care of by a nice couple who weren’t perfect but weren’t Nathaniel Essex, and Scott still worried about him but had other things on his mind. He had to fight just to breathe, had to struggle to keep his head above water. There was Essex and then there was Winters, and both men were terrible, unbearable threats. There was Essex and then there was Winters, and when he’d been going through them he’d been so sure that neither man was survivable. There was Essex and then there was Winters.

And then there was Jean.

She’d been more than a breath of fresh air when she’d found him on that park bench. She’d been oxygen to a dying man, a crystal stream in the middle of a desert. To say that Jean had saved him would have been an understatement. Jean did more than save his life. Jean made his life a thing worth saving. If he could give her something in return, if he could make her smile and keep making her smile for the rest of their lives, it was his duty to do that. It was his dream to do that. . ’I’d be ecstatic to see the look on his face as he tries to hold the puns in, but I don’t think I can bring myself to look away from you for a moment,’ he admitted, smile softening. He wanted to lean in, wanted to kiss her, but something told him it wasn’t quite time for that yet. Not that he’d know for sure, with all the attention he’d been giving the officiant. They were in a room full of the most important people in their lives but, for the moment, Scott’s world had narrowed to one person.

Her finger brushed his, and Scott remembered the first time he met her. He remembered the words he’d use to describe the moment years later, to the sound of groans and sighs around him, the way a pillow flew at his face with a laugh because you’re so lame, Summers. He hadn’t cared then any more than he did now, because those words were true. They were still true. The universe readjusts forever to her slight presence. His world changed the day he met her, was changing again now. And with her hand in his, it only ever changed for the better.

’Kara did great,’ he replied, letting his eyes flicker to her hair for a heartbeat before returning to recapture her gaze. Her hair wasn’t what had him so enchanted, but he suspected she knew that. He flushed a little as she returned the compliment, lifting his shoulder in a slight shrug. ’For you? I’d wear a suit every day for the rest of my life. All you’d have to do is ask.’ He tried, as he suspected she was doing, not to think of the last time he’d worn a suit. He didn’t remember it, of course, but plenty of people in attendance likely did. Funerals and weddings had very similar dress codes, after all. . It was a strange thought to have. A few months ago, he’d died on a grassy knoll in a public park. His life had ended in the arms of the woman he’d loved, and he’d understood that it was, perhaps, always going to end just like that. Today, he was getting married under a floral arch in a park. His life was beginning with the hands of the woman he loved clasped tightly together with his own and he understood that this, more than anything else, had been his destiny all along. Scott Summers was always going to marry Jean Grey. He was always going to love her. No one could stop that, try as they might.

His lips quirked upwards, eyes dancing with laughter. ’Remind me to send Bishop a thank you card,’ he teased, light and gleeful and alive. He felt more alive today than he had in such a long time, with his pulse racing in his wrist and a nervousness that didn’t make sense fluttering in his chest. They were already here. She’d already agreed to love him for the rest of his life. There was no more reason to be nervous, and yet he was.

The officiant reminded them that they were, in fact, still at a wedding, that the crowd was expecting declarations, and Scott huffed a quiet laugh, glancing around briefly before letting his eyes slide back to where they always wanted to be --- on her and nothing else.

Jean spoke, and Scott loved her more than he’d ever loved anything else in his life. He loved her so much that it shouldn’t have been possible, adored her so completely that he wondered how there was room in his head for any thought but her. He loved Jean Grey, and she loved him back. That, more than anything, was a miracle. His eyes felt wet as she continued, and Scott found himself thankful for the glasses obstructing them if only because he didn’t want his rare display of emotion to take the attention away from Jean, from what she was saying. . When she finished, he cleared his throat, letting out a breathless little laugh. She said those things about him. She felt those things about him. He’d been wrong before --- lucky didn’t even begin to cover what he was.

“Is it my turn?” he asked quietly, and the officiant nodded. He laughed again, quiet and airy. “Uh, you all know me. I’m not a man of many words. I’m not someone who’s particularly skilled in talking about my feelings. I don’t know how to put to words the way you make me feel. Loving you is like… It’s like breathing. It’s like the heartbeat in my chest. It’s there all the time, keeping me alive. I don’t know how not to love you. I don’t think it’s possible.”

He squeezed her hand tightly, letting out a quiet, shaky breath. “All my life, I’ve felt as though I was… broken. That parts of me were jagged edges and shattered glass, that nothing could ever hope to put me back together. You changed that. You’ve made me feel whole. You’ve made me feel happy. You showed me what it is to love and be loved, to have a best friend who would do anything for you, to have someone who would fight for you no matter what. You deserve big speeches and flowery words. I wish I had them for you. I wish I could write poems or play music. I wish I could give the world something to show them what you mean to me, but nothing is enough. No words, no music, no art. I love you too much for anything to describe it. I think… I think if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.” He laughed again, teary-eyed. “I love you. That’s all I know how to say. I love you, I love you, I love you. I don’t know how to stop.”

JEAN: They weren’t really supposed to happen. Despite how easily they fit together now, despite the fact that Jean could look over at Scott and in an instant know what was passing through his thoughts before their link even came into play, she knew that all of this was a statistical anomaly. They’d been brought together in a group of extraordinary people. They’d survived interstellar space missions, and giant robots targeting their home, disasters of their own making, the world’s hatred manifesting in increasingly violent ways over the years. Even on a smaller scale, no one would look at the original X-Men and picture the reserved, stoic leader hitting it off with the girl who defied logic at every turn and found satisfaction in chaos, but it happened.

It happened on that very first day. It happened every day after that, every argument or difference in opinion or conversation under a blanket draped over the kitchen table building to this moment, this second, where they stood up and told everyone how much they loved each other (as if they hadn’t done just that a thousand times before in their lives, albeit without the fancy outfits).

Jean’s smile softened as Scott’s words filtered through, something turning to goo in her chest as the sentiment lodged itself between her ribs. She always maintained Scott was a charmer, not that he’d ever believe she wasn’t speaking from an entirely biased perspective. He just didn’t get to see himself looking like this. ’You never have to,’ she replied. ’I’m going to be your view for the next seventy years. Better suck it up, buttercup.’ She waited for just a moment, chewing lightly on her lower lip. ’And I want to kiss you too,’ she thought, ’for the record.’ . She always wanted to kiss him. She always wanted to talk to him. Everything that happened in the day mattered infinitely more when it was filtered through his perspective, because Scott’s mind was the most beautiful place she’d ever been. There weren’t words in the English language to explain the experience of a telepath — Jean would have to invent some, she knew, just as she knew that she loved Scott well past the point of invention — but she hoped time made up for that lack of vocabulary. She hoped more than a decade of loving him every single day with everything she was told Scott that he was worth it, even if he would never quite believe it.

Scott Summers, standing in front of her, saying what he was saying, thinking even more than he managed to put into words, trying against his nature to let everyone in on a part of his life that could be open to judgement ... Jean let out a small, disbelieving laugh at the fact that sixteen year old Jean would kill to be in this spot right now (seventeen year old Jean, bitter over the fact that Scott repeatedly and emphatically avoided her eye contact at any given opportunity even through the shades, would pretend to be disgusted by the development). “You don’t need to stop,” Jean said, and it came out like a joke, something to prompt a wave of laughter through the crowd once more, but it was the truth.

They never needed to stop again. Not even death could part them — they’d proven that. The world was theirs for the taking, in every way that mattered. There was a fire connecting them, and even more than that, there was love.

There was love. . “With this ring,” Jean repeated, taking the band of metal from the officiant, not hesitating for a second before slipping it onto Scott’s fingers, “I take you, Scott Summers, to be my lawfully wedded husband — for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love and to cherish; in life, and in death.”

’It’s you and me.’ It was enough. It had always been enough.

There was a beat, and then the voice cut through, louder this time.

“I am very pleased to present to you for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Summers. You may now kiss the br—“

Bouquet now abandoned, Jean hooked her fingers around Scott’s tie, pulling him down so she could press her lips to his.

SCOTT: When he was a child, before that plane went down, Scott had dreamt of following in his father’s footsteps. I want to be a pilot, he’d say to anyone who would listen. I want to fly a fighter jet. He hadn’t known, of course, what it meant to be a soldier. Not back then. He hadn’t understood that there was more to an Air Force pilot than the controls of a plane, hadn’t been able to comprehend the complexities of war.

That had all changed fairly quickly.

In a lot of ways, when that plane fell out of the sky and Scott lost everything in one fell swoop, he got what he’d always wanted. He became a soldier in an instant, was thrust into a war the moment the first optic blast left his eyes. He’d never fly a fighter jet, never be a pilot, but he’d followed in his father’s footsteps all the same. He was a man built for war. For a long time, he’d thought that disqualified him from love.

He remembered being sixteen and looking at a beautiful girl, remembered memorizing the slope of her neck and the way her hair fell against her shoulders. He remembered thinking to himself, I can never have this. He’d accepted it so quickly, done everything he could to distance himself from her. Hours spent in the Danger Room running simulations that would train his head and ignore his heart, ducking into rooms when she walked by because if he spoke to her his hands would sweat and his mouth would go dry. Scott had loved Jean long before he’d realized he was allowed to love her. He would continue to love her long after the universe told him to stop.

(And maybe that time had come and gone already. Maybe after the third funeral, the universe simply got tired of repeating itself.) . This moment, he thought, was what he’d always thought his first time behind the controls of that imagined fighter jet would feel like. At some point, his dream had changed. He didn’t know when, didn’t know how, but there was no part of him that wanted to be his father now. The only thing he wanted to be, in this moment, was Jean Grey’s husband. ’Better make it eighty,’ he shot back, light dancing in his eyes. ’Or ninety. A hundred. Seventy just isn’t enough.’ Nothing ever would be. ’I think we’ll both get our wish in a moment. That’s how these things usually go.’

This thing they shared had always been a series of beautiful contradictions, and this moment was no different. It was quiet and intimate, but it was loud and impossible to ignore. It was utterly private, but a hundred-odd eyes were watching. It was fleeting, but it would last forever. Theirs was an impossible sort of love. Scott had learned to adore it in its entirety. And now, he got to enjoy it for the rest of his life.

There were rings. She slid one onto his finger and he felt like a missing piece had been fixed into place. He put one on her and it looked like it had been there all along. There were words that shook his voice, a trembling smile as he repeated them. “I take you, Jean Grey, to be my lawfully wedded wife…” He heard himself speaking and he sounded far away, drowned out by his own heartbeat. The pounding in his chest was hers. It had always been hers.

’You and me,’ he agreed, ’forever.’

And then she was kissing him, and the world was more right than it had ever been before.

[twilightvolt]

A 3 month late art summary featuring art that i haven’t uploaded here due to my absence. unless i randomly feel like it, i don’t think i’m gonna go back and upload them here. if you wanna see them, though, they’re all on my DA.

I know i've pretty much said all the important bits in A Sacrifice for the Wind, but i figure i reiterate everything said along with expanding upon everything that occurred during 2017. piece by piece. and yes, i did intend to make an art joke. So, to get it outta the way, 2017 stunk more than a dead fish on a city bus. i lost a lot during that year. i lost the will to believe in whatever the future had in store for me, i almost lost a few friends, i lost my motivation to work on my projects and above all...i lost the smile i've always kept on every year before that. never have i been so emotionally damaged in all 5 years of my artist life leading up to this point. But, i can't say it was completely terrible. as much as i bashed it, art wise, 2017 was a very progressive year. looking at every wedge on the clock, i can't stop staring at how far i've come since the end of 2016. after being stripped of my tablet at the end, i've even learned how to not be afraid of making permanent mistakes. But yeah, let's begin. by turning the clock all the way back to January. when things were much simpler.... January: Hukaro Nakawa ~Final Mix Yeah, this was done in October, but i uploaded it in January for Moon's birthday. plus, there was nothing noteworthy this month. i still remember all the nice comments i got. this was the beginning of a year that i ran right in and yelled "LET'S SHOW THIS WORLD THAT WE WON'T STAND FOR ANOTHER 2016!" Oh how naive i was... February: The Beast Inside Remember when i played a lot of League in my free time? i sure do. anyway, this was my next attempt after Hukaro to continue doing my "Squeenix Cinematic Style." this time on the, at the time, new revamp for Warwick. needless to say, i still think i did a better job on Hukaro. BUT, this was still pretty good. it was during these first few months when things were really lookin' up for me. i was continually working on things cuz i really wanted to make something and school was pretty cool too. March: Digimon ZX Cover ZX ISN'T DEAD I SWEAR! *ahem* I MEAN....hai. owo As we march on into March, i think R2 of Digimon Temporal Jump was going on at the time. we were going through our story entries and things were pretty great being with my best buds. i also began doing art streams i'm pretty sure, with this drawing in particular being done during two days of streaming. i'm being serious, by the way. ZX is not dead. i've been typing up the story on my phone, so look forward to those chapters sometime soon! April: Are You Ready? Yup. in anticipation for Digidestined.Com, i decided to start seriously developing Digimon Unchained ahead of time so people would be able to get to know Yuki beforehand. unfortunately, i didn't actually get to start the story until much later, but that was just me being a lazy bum. i was hangin' out on Discord and stuff, talking about how excited i was for what was to come. we all know what happened, but at the time, being able to go back to the world i once knew with Luneth was a big deal for me. it's like i was going back to the beginning. And fear not, peeps! i've been working on Unchained for quite awhile. you'd be surprised how much i've worked on it with Gao. ^w^ May: Bits n' Bytes Ultima Vocal Collection Oh yeah, i did a birthday gift for Fire too! just so you know, i do still wanna make OSTs for my other Digimon adventures, but without my tablet i can't really do them right now. this month was pretty alright if i remember. making new friends and strengthening bonds with old friends. things were pretty fun in the sun cuz y'know......summer was coming. June: Connection Flow in Ice and Snow AWWW YEEEAAAAH, LET'S KICK IT!!! *Another Way by Girugamesh plays at full blast* (if .Com had a vocal OST, that would be opening.....3 if i remember the list i made. would've been the final opening i think. it's been awhile since i looked at the files.) Now that .Com finally began, i was on the hype train to the sun as i feverishly worked hard on my .Com stuff. this poster was one of my proudest works this year tbh. i promised i would make something great outta this story. this would be the closure that Luneth and Vivi so desperately needed, and Yuki and Arcus would be the ones to save them and close their book for good. not only that, but i was also graduating high school. after throwing my cap in the air, i said my heartfelt goodbyes to all the friends i've known since elementary and middle school including the close friends in my AP Art Squad. Team AP Art Will Never be Apart! honestly, things couldn't be any more exciting for me. Gee, it would be a shame if something were to happen that would trigger a chain of events that would divide my friends forever and send me down a spiraling pain train to the void known as crippling depression. July: DigiJuly Day 5: V-Mon (Vivi) This drawing was done to commemorate three years of adventures with Luneth and Vivi. this was during DigiJuly, when i was doing Digimon doodles nonstop for the duration of the month. What was once a hype train became a train wreck once July came around. things were ok until DTJ burned down in a raging fire and that set the stage for the rest of the year. i literally wouldn't be able to overcome any of this until November or so. i don't wanna dwell on it anymore since i'd be sounding like a broken record at this point. August: D3P: D-Sona 3 Portable Not a lot of art this month either. can you believe that? XD Hoo boy. August. need i say anything more about this month? we thought things settled down after DTJ shut down, but something was amiss.... This was the month that it happened. the climax of the story best left untold....even though i told it a hundred times already. >_>' Outside of the incident, time was running short for our stay at our current home and we were thinking of our next move. i began to worry about college as steep student debt caused us to have a change of plans on where to go. i was beginning to doubt if i even had a future to believe in. i was running out of options, and i was running out of hope. And trust me, it only gets worse from here. September: The Next Generation After awhile, things were still going on outside my realm of knowledge. it only made me feel worse seeing everything transpire long after the initial conflict. with this stigma hanging over me, i finally decided to pack my bags and leave the Digimon group era of my artist life. it was a pretty sour note to end it on, but let's be real here, there was no way i could wait any longer for things to get better. granted, my birthday was awesome, and i couldn't thank everyone enough for coming together to try to bring my spirit back. unfortunately, my bout with depression was just beginning. it was so bad, i pretty much stopped taking care of myself, which would lead to a few days ago when i'd end up with one less tooth in my mouth. i swear i won't let it get that bad again. With everything plummeting down to the dark abyss, i said goodbye to the life i once knew. from here on, things were about to change. i wasn't gonna end here. not now. October: Howling in the Shadows From this month forth, my family had no idea where we were going. the beginning of the tale of the borderline homeless that still continues to this day. Packing away my computer and drawing tablet for what feels like an eternity, i was moving out of my current home that we rented for the duration of my senior year and into grandma's house......in a raging storm. i'm not kidding. the rain was so bad that when we got there, our clothes were completely soaked and we couldn't even see 5 feet ahead of us outside that night. i knew immediately that it was some sort of ill omen for what was to transpire in the coming months. in fact, i even had dreams of the aftermath of what might happen. Now that i was stripped of my digital art abilities, i had to think of something else to do. so, i decided to dedicate myself to going back to traditional art. Boy, did i have fun. November: Return to the Realm of Sleep Now, this was the only thing i was able to crank out in November. BUT, that doesn't mean i didn't draw. i drew stuff, but nothing noteworthy enough to upload here. i'm gonna tell it to you straight now. Arcus will return. With my mental health still kicking me in the butt (it hit me so hard i had a panic attack one day.), i wasn't really motivated to draw much. in fact, i even hid myself away from the internet for quite awhile. without my friends or my sense of purpose, i felt like i had nothing and i was pretty under the weather for a majority of this month. that being said, i snapped myself out of it by force. it was stupid that i still felt the way i did months after what happened. sure, it was horrible, and i wish i could forget everything. but i can't stay stuck in the past. And so, i picked up my colored pencils and other such tools, and began my journey to recovery. December: Lexicon (Lex) and A Sacrifice for the Wind I got the hang of drawing traditionally pretty quickly. throughout the month, i was on fire, drawing masterstroke after masterstroke. (at least, in my opinion. XD) Making my new home in the mobile communities of Amino, it was a nice change of pace from the big screen of my computer. i made a bunch of new friends (to the staff of the Aminos i'm in and the rest of the crew in our Digimon Discord server, you guys are the best and thank you for healing the pain of yesteryear!) and had a grand old time making new OCs, Lex being one of them. i honestly luv Appmon and i wish we got more, but i'm content with what we got tbh. it'll live on in Seikatsu and his friends. be ready to see them once again in the near future! And so, in the wake of destruction as the world continues to change around me, i chopped off my signature anime emo locks, revamped my wardrobe and set my sights toward the future. Nowadays, i've completely moved on from the pain, but that doesn't change the fact that it still happened. overall, 2017 was a complete pile of poopoo garbage and i'm glad the nightmare is finally over. Even if i can't completely write it off as bad, there's just way too many negatives that weigh down the rest of the year for me personally. it's March now and things are pretty hectic, but i've got newfound courage and i know this year will be better than the last. time for me to get back up and charge forth to a better tomorrow!

[childesballs]

Rosewood Anemones Chapter 1

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3,232

Story Summary: Living as a woodworker crafting furniture and nicknacks in the small town of Elysia, Sorey lead a peaceful lifestyle. Pieces came and went along with customers, most never leaving a lasting impression. Never could Sorey have imagined the day a beautiful boy, with knowledge of ancient history rivaling his own, would come in to order a coffin. 

Notes: Ggggaaaaahhhhhh over a month of sitting on this secret project with all of two people I could scream to. But I’m finally beginning to post and holy shit does it feel good. Some of you may recognize this from a post way back when by the lovely @amarietie​, who is too fricking awesome for letting me take to writing it. Okay, I’ll stop my screaming there (for this post anyway). 

AO3 Link

That sterile smell that always accompanied hospitals is exactly what kept Sorey out of them. Even after three years of monthly trips here, he never could adjust to it. Clutching the strap crossing his chest just a little tighter, he continued down the halls, nodding and waving towards the staff that greeted him. The relief of ducking through the doorway of the Turtlez gift shop never came soon enough.

“Well heyz therez Sorey. Wha’dya got this month?” A small boy drenched in orange from head to toe sprang up from behind the desk.

“Hey Orange. Just some small stuff. Pendants and tags. Nothing special unfortunately.”

“Don’t worry about it. Youz stuff always sellz well. Very well.” Sorey turned towards the second voice. Leaning against the door frame was boy identical to Orange, except drenched in white.

“White! When did you get back?” Sorey beamed.

“Eh, just a couple dayz ago.” He waved a hand as he came to sit next to Orange.

“Oh, did I hear that voice correct?” A third voice, one Sorey barely recognzied, yet nonetheless he gleefully met.

“Dark. You’re back too?” Orange zipped around the counter and crossed the room in a blurr. White only a moment behind. Then they three were deep in conversation that Sorey could barely follow. He chuckled as he made his way to the unofficial woodwork section and silently setting up his wears.

Before he'd emptied half his bag, the three brothers surrounded him, discerning eyes scanning every piece. Orange and Dark staying longer on each piece than White, who moved around the whole picture. They were ecentric for sure, nonetheless, top notch merchants.

Once everything was in place, he turned towards White. No words needed for Sorey to be handed an envelope, full of his take of last month's profit. A few words of what they'd like to see next month, and Sorey was off to handle his other errand.

Moving down empty halls, he found himself near the garden. The term being used loosely. Elysia Medical had been built strangely, in that a rectangular section in the center had been left as an external space. For years it was just a place for patients to get fresh air. Now it sat as a stunning garden fitted with numerous flora.

For as much as Sorey passed by, he'd never actually stepped into it. Today, he had actually contemplated it, but seeing someone else there changed his mind.

A boy, looking about his age with silver hair, tipped with pale aquamarine, and stunning violet eyes sat with his nose burried in a book. Part of Sorey, recognizing the book, wanted to strike up conversation— he knew two people, one being himself, that had read The Chronicles of Maotelus. His sister being the other, hadn’t made it past the first chapter; her lack of fluency in the ancient tongue making it a hard read. But this person flipped pages nearly at the end with a speed that rivaled Sorey’s.

Sorey forced himself along, both realizing he'd been staring, and still having business to tend to. Silently, he hoped to cross paths with them again, and if they had the book then he would approach without hesitation.

A large sigh left him as he twisted down more halls. To think there were others in his small hometwon that could read the ancient tongue. That he wasn’t alone in that interest filled him with an excitment he could barely contain. Taking a deep breath to calm his thoughts, he rounded the last corner leading to his destination.

Unsurprisingly, the owner was absent, but the door left ajar with a red feather hanging from the knob. Sorey pushed through to an empty room decorated rather lavishly. Well, lavish is how she put it. Sorey just saw a collection of his work. And here he was adding another piece. How could he do any less for his best customer though?

Reaching into his bag, he retreived a round figure. He never did understand her obsession with round things, but it had been an oddly fun piece. Setting what she called Arma Dylan on the desk, he turned back towards the door, after tucking the envelope addressed to him atop the things in her upper most drawer. His policy for regulars was that he didn’t take payment until he’d received their 100% satisfaction.

Moving back through his route to exit the hospital, he passed the garden again, only now it was empty. Opting to save his garden experience for another day, he pushed on and out of the hospital with little more than few passing words to staff that hadn’t seen him come in.  

Making his way down the side road that would lead back to his shop, Sorey turned his phone back on to see the enivitable texts from Rose.

Hurry it up would ya?

C’mon. Sorey. You know I have a date tonight.

Soreeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy

He chuckled. Of course he knew she had time sensitive plans, but she didn’t know his job was to stall her. Ignoring her call, he dialed Alisha. After ensuring his job no longer needed, he quickened his pace.

The shop barely in sight, he could see the fuming redhead behind the glass. Before he’d even reached the door, she bolted, hands latching onto his collar. He laughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck. Her brows relaxed as she sighed and released her grip.  

“Ugh. You have the worst poker face. I knew something was up when you wouldn’t answer.”

“Hey! I had to make the usual visit It just… happened to be convient for her.”

“Whatever. I’ve got a hot date to get to. Not that you would know anything about that.” She waggled her eyebrows at him as she elbowed his side. Sorey gave a light shove to her shoulder.

“She’s impatient you know.” Rose went wide eyed after checking her phone and spoke some form of tongue that Sorey could only assume meant goodbye before she vanished.

Shaking his head, he pushed through the front door, and slumped into the desk chair. Every part of him wanted to slink into the back, curl up in a corner and take a nap. Fighting that instinct he instead pulled out his sketchbook and at least put some measily attempt into his work. That plan failed as his head fell onto the paper, and his eyes slid shut.

Staying up to sunrise with Rose and Alisha had been a mistake. One he knew he’d regret when he had to leave the house after only sleeping a few hours for the hospital delivery. He stirred against his makeshift pillow, before forcing himself to sit up and continue ‘working’. Work being mindlessly doodling designs for future projects instead of adding to the things he’d already started.

Once he’d made the decision to use his phone as a music player, hours ticked by unnoticed and while it didn’t qualify as top notch work, he’d at least progressed with detailing things. He felt the itch to start something, but what to start is where he debated.

He straighted, raising his arms over his head before closing his sketchbook, set on moving into the back to fire up the lathe, except he did this just in time for the bells attatched to the front door to chime. Ready to start his usual greeting, when he realized this was no stranger.

"Busy at work like usual?" Red tipped silver green hair swayed with each step.

"Yeah," he paused to scratch his head "first time in a while I haven't had a list of commissions so my personal projects got backed up." She gasped, a first coming over her chest.

"Well that's no good!"

"I know I know. You always snap up my newest pieces." His huff was met with a shining smile.

“Speaking of,” she reached into the pocket of her long white coat and held out an envelope “will you please just start taking what I leave?” She huffed. Her glare made him feel like a five year old being scolded.

“Alright, alright.” This wouldn’t be the last time this conversation happened.

“I suppose now wouldn’t be appropriate for setting another commission?” She faced him directly, eyes soft, and arms falling to her sides.

“Geez Lailah. You really can’t get enough. So long as it’s not a big one again.”

“Oh no. Just… another pendant.” Sorey sank a little. That had been what first brough Lailah to him when he were starting out.

“Can’t turn that down now can I?”

“You most certainly can. But I suppose that’s enough for me to say I’ll be back in a few days once I’ve gotten permission.” Lailah had been about to add something else when her phone went off. She sighed before answering, but not in her usual singsong tone. The call ended in less than a minute.

“I swear I can’t escape. It was nice seeing you for even a little.” She waved as she made her way out the door. Sorey shook his head. He couldn’t fathom the burdens of being the head doctor for an entire hospital. Even if Elysia’s was small in comparison.

Sorey leaned back, hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling. Another one… How she voluntarily took on those cases baffled him even more. Spending all that time getting to know someone when you know they’re on a short clock. He couldn’t do it in a thousand life times, but he held the utmost respect for Lailah choosing that path.

Before his thoughts could travel much further, the bells chimed again.

“Welcome to Aroundight Woods!” He beamed at a new face. As the person stepped further inside and out of the beating sunlight, Sorey wondered if his heart had heart skipped a beat. Silver hair with pale aquamarine tips, bright violet eyes, and skin like snow melded together into what had to be the most gorgeous thing Sorey had ever seen. He quickly threw on his best smile as he rounded the desk.

“Anything I can help you find? Or just browsing?” It was his usual spiel, but he’d nearly forgotten the words this time. The male held a hand to his chin as he glanced over a few of the larger works adorning the walls.  

“I wanted to inquire about custom pieces?” Sorey hadn’t anticipated a voice like wind chimes.

“That’s kinda what I specialize in. Mostly furniture or knick-knacks, like lock boxes or tops, but there’s hardly a thing I’ll refuse.” Excitment rushed through him. Even though he’d been happy at the thought of returning to personal projects, he delighted more in pieces for others. The small male turned away, intently focused on a random sculpture sitting on a shelf.

“Have you… ever done a coffin?” Not an unusual question, but he’d never recieved it from someone so young.

“Quite a few.” Sorey had the urge to ramble about how many he’d done and how personal and individual each piece had been, but he held his tongue. Though after a few moments of heavy silence, he spoke again.

“I like to personalize them though. Any idea what kind of wood they’d like?” Starting simple was always his method. Never knowing how well people would handle the questions, and having asked his fair share of wrong questions, he’d learned to let the customer have all the power. The other raised a hand to his chin, thoughtful eyes lazing to the side.

“Mahogany has a nice color to it, though I’m more partial to Cherry. But if I had to pick a single type, well, I do have a soft spot for Rosewood.” A surprisingly chipper voice accompanied those sparkling eyes that Sorey couldn’t tear himself away from.

He knew he’d been staring, though unintentionally. Those words taking some long moments to sink in. As his lips started to form sounds, he inhaled. Lightly biting his lip he did his best to stifle any outward reaction. He’d never had this situation but Rose had made him think about it.

“Cherry is pretty easy to come by. Mahogony, while I can get, costs a lot. And I mean a lot. Rosewood I can get as easy as Oak, but real cost for you is in labor.” He hoped his voice had stayed calm. Treat it like anything else. Sorey became distracted in watching the other run fingers over a woodburned image of pillars with eye shaped designs.

“I see you have penchant for Temperance of Avarost styles.”

“Wha—? Wait, you actually recognize it?” Sorey stammered. Hardly anyone caught the motifs any older than a couple centuries. There was light chuckle as the male spun around to a table full of sculptures. He gently picked up one, after requesting permission, and turned it around and a round before setting it back down. Something had seem oddly familiar about this male, but only then did Sorey realize why.  

“You even pull from the Era of the Gods? I must say I’m impressed.” He crossed a leg over the other as he leaned back.

“People love the styles that came out of that era, yet no one even knows where they originate.” Sorey’s arms crossed.

“Tell me about it. It’s a real shame how little history people know.” By this point he had turned to face Sorey, hair swaying with the shaking of his head that followed his statement. Sorey bounced to the desk, haphazardly reaching for his sketchbook and flipped to a page that had crudely drawn patterns and buildings, sectioned by a set of rune like scribbles. He held out a spread.

“What I really love is seeing how these different styles can mesh today, and it’s kinda the inspiration for a lot of my work.” Sorey realized he was a hair away from full on rambling, something he’d only ever done with his sister. While she had her interest in history, it still paled against Sorey’s.

Hands reached for the book, and Sorey, uncharacteristically, let the book go. He tended to guard it like a diary, yet here he felt comfortable letting this stranger handle it.

“You can write in the ancient tongue?” Sparkling violets shot up. Heat rushed through Sorey’s face. He’d forgotten about that being with these sketches.

“I, uh, may have taught myself…” He turned away. He’d seen enough scorns in response to that, but he anticipated a different reaction this time.

“So I take it you’ve read all the Shepherd myths then?” The other smirked as his arms crossed.

“You mean the Chronicles of Maotelus?” Sorey’s enthusiasm grew more difficult to contain. Pales lips gapped, eyes wide and wild, arms falling as he looked floundered for words.

“Seriously?” He finally stammered. This lead to Sorey bringing a chair up from the back room and the two talking and exchanging thoughts and opinions and theories on a thousand years worth of history. By the time either of them swam out of their bubble, sunset was looming. The other male sat up, checked his phone, and then faced Sorey again.

“I should be on my way. I shouldn’t have taken up so much of your business time.” The other lowered his head towards Sorey.

“No, no, it’s perfectly fine. Actually, if you wanted to swing by again, I’ve got a few pieces I’d love to show someone who’ll see the history etched in.”

“Sounds great.” With a small smile, he headed for the door.

“Ah, wait. I uh, didn’t catch your name…” Sorey scratched at his jaw. That typically only got asked once a deal had been started.

“Mikleo. Though it’s sort of rude to not give yours first.”

“Ah, crap. Sorry. I’m Sorey.” All his years of doing this and building these social skills and they all became nonexistent.

“See you later Sorey.” Mikleo gave a wave before pushing out the door.

Sitting back at the desk, Sorey couldn’t fight the stretching smile. He found his phone amongst the mess of papers, opened up his messaging and quickly typed a message to Alisha.

Oh man do I have something to tell you when I get home.

She hadn’t responded and she wouldn’t. He waited out another hour just in case he had any last minute customers. Gathering all his books and supplies, he hurried towards the door. Streets empty and night fallen, he decided closing shop thirty minutes early wouldn’t hurt buisness.

While he’d usually take the scenic back streets, he settled for main streets since the route was shorter. He knew how silly and childish he was being. Getting this exicted over someone he’d probably only speak with for this commission. Yet, he couldn’t contain himself. Feeling like he may have found his equal in all things history.

Only half way up the stairs of his apartment complex, before he even had time to start searching for his keys, the door swung open. There was a silent moment as he took in the rare sight of blonde hair pulled into a bun.

“Well don’t just stand there! What happened at the shop?” She pulled him inside. Sorey kicked off his shoes and tossed his bag beside the couch before falling onto it. Setting a forearm over his head, he recounted those forty minutes that changed his entire week.

“So this guy came in, and sure he seemed a little odd at first, but Alisha. He recognized the styles I use.”

“He’s versed in history. Not like that’s rare.” Rose chimed, Alisha sitting on the floor in front of her.

“But he even recognized the Era of the Gods styles. And, he can read the ancient tongue.” Sorey had meant to keep his excitement from seaping into his words.

“Aw shit. I think your brother finally has a crush.” Rose grinned at Alisha, even though she couldn’t see it.

“I just met him! And besides…” He sank further into the couch. All the excitement at having found someone seemingly as into history as he was, and all memeory of what had lead to the meeting had been buried. Alish hummed as she turned to look at him. After long silence and Sorey turning onto his side facing away from them, Rose spoke up.

“What’s the catch? Too young? Too old? Here on vacation?” Sorey sighed, his head laying on one arm, while the other curled around his waist.

“He… he came in to order a coffin.” His voice went hoarse. He knew it was getting over his head, and jumping to worst possible conclusions.

“Ouch. For a lover I take it?” By this point Rose had ceased with Alisha’s hair and both of them were gazing at Sorey’s back.

“No… I think… I’m pretty sure it’s for him.” Sorey visibly tensed up with the words.

“Hey, he’s probably just a forward thinker.” Rose assured.

“It is a practical thing to be planning in advance.” Alisha agreed. Sorey mentally slapped himself. How could he have let his mind go to the darkest depths so easily again? He stirred into a sitting position, facing the girls again.

They had a valid argument. People had come to him before making these arrangements for well into the future. Sorey had even planned out his own. The truely unnerving part was the order coming from someone seemingly his age.

Sorey did his best to push the thoughts away and focus on the late night coffee Rose offered.

[bluethxghts]

Say You Will

“This is that soul, man. This is your soul”

Have you ever addressed a letter to yourself from the future? It will be a good measure of how much you know.

Well, and how much of *you* that you know.

To look back is often to possess a feeling a longing, perhaps maybe one of spite.

When was the last time you looked back with an intent to help?

There are so many thoughts and ideas I would reach back to share. There are so many words the young-me’s would benefit from hearing.

In Kindergarten he knew just the correct way to put his toys together. I am unsure if my adult brain would have been able to do the same

Without his hours of expertise with Light Speed Rescue and Galaxy, putting together his Power Rangers “Super Train Megazord” would not have been possible.

Kid-me was so smart.

The Buzz Lightyear wings he got gifted were a sign of his mind soaring through the clouds.

Creativity was one of the best armors he donned, and his drawings brought life to ideas that kept us going.

Occasionally a doodle or two was misplaced, but homework looked better when it was happily done.

Kid-me was so creative

With a passion like Spirit, he was always happy to lead a lesson or a game of kickball.

I hope you choose days when you are not wearing your “good” clothes, otherwise someone will have a fit.

Play outside till your heart is content.

Being underneath the biggest star is a habit some feel you should avoid, but that is rooted in their inability to release the baggge that is weighing their own arms down.

Kid-me had the nicest skin

King and X had you inspired, but it was “A Long Walk To Freedom” that helped you think about the world.

Your classrooms may change, but your love of it never will. The process of “newness” never truly ends.

Kid-me was so curious.

Glasses do not seem like the attire of the cool kids, but the lockdowns from elementary school should have you shown the importance of clarity.

View your taking them on and off as a metaphor for how life works. Nobody is perfect, and everyone can benefit from a little help.

You will encounter many moments of “imperfection”, but the beauty of simplicity is that no one is without a flaw.

Because of that, we can explore, we can experience, and we can grow.

Kid-me was so silly.

In your rush to be seen, confirm that you are being processed.

Speeding blurs can be caught quite easily, but motion without purpose is little more than aimless wandering.

One can be booked, and one can be busy without being drained.

Viewed one way, exhaustion is a reminder that one has worked hard.

Viewed another, exhaustion is a reminder that one need’s to be still.

So be unmoving as much as you speed through life as if you are blue, black or silver.

Teen-me was so busy.

Love will be a task for you, but eventually you will navigate it just as well as you do your other journeys.

As you collect your x’s and o’s, you will view it less seriously than if each one was a moment of “forever”.

Just as school, games or friendship, love is just another part of life. Love is *not* life.

Each experience will serve you, even if the service is you looking back go chuckle at how silly you were.

Teen-me was such a teen.

As you increase your skills, the difficulties you encounter will also match that pace.

Newness can be threatening, but newness is easily overcome.

Do not avoid a door because it requires a key or a little jiggling.

When you do a task for the first time, the task is supposed to be confusing. In time, the corrections will come.

Teen-me was patient.

You will inevitably fall and scrape a knee or two knee, but sure to also turn around and sit on the concrete.

It is good to feel, and it is good to be grounded.

A reminder you can feel and that you exist is great, even if it initially began with what you thought was misfortune.

Teen-me was do present.

Do not cruise on a wave just to avoid the current. Swim against the tide sometimes.

There will be times you need to use your voice before you have found it.

Take back some time you lent focusing on others, and focus on you.

In a sea of answers and options, make sure you go up for air as much as you dive down to discover the best one

Teen-me was so impressionable.

If you must carry your mistakes with you when a task is challenging, bring the success along as well.

After all, what good is having a song on repeat if you do not play the full verse?

I wish I could offer more, but if this writing were to drop through time into your lap, you would not grow into you.

The truth is that I am not a full plant yet either, but I have a few petals to show.

We will always be works in progress, but we are progressing nicely.

Adult-us has come far with where you all have lead us.

[delightfulgentlemenluminary]

YEAR ONE (EARLY) REFLECTIONS

My first instinct is to extract all the specific questions that you've posed, and gather them together with other questions to bring to the table for our next whole-staff-group session in December. (I must get a doodle poll sorted for that actually). I have a strong sense that it would be really valuable to bring someone like Sean and/or Peter Renshaw into part of that session, for a little objective 'sense checking' - from the perspective of people who have a very strong and clear vision for what this whole thing could be, at least in terms of where it came from and why it actually exists in the first place. It could also be interesting to get a perspective from Sig and/or Nell (the two Leadership pathway leaders). At the same time, I'm also mindful to honour our own journey as a core PACE group, so envisage any 'guest' only being there for a part of it. What do you think?

I'm also wondering how best to use your questions and reflections in the meantime...

From:

Subject:

Note stream, unedited. Just for . the ability to reflect critically and constructively on the developme nt and application of their own and others' skills and knowledge the ability to reflect critically and constructively on the developme nt and application of their own and others' skills and knowledge

Fragments here  -- much of it was meant as notes for myself, so not all will be relevant or useful but happy to share in entirety with you, rather than editing it into something definitive. As Jess said about the PREP session, it was great to air lots of stuff and then wake up the next day and just get on with things as normal. Some of my words are the same kinds of private doubts that the students have had, and i have been encouraging them to voice doubts and feedback on things.

-- Note :  'collaborative practice' module -- be wary of the 'anything can be a seed' approach, at least initially... starting points are interesting territory, but this group has real desire to make pieces that feel deeply sourced, having done a lot of improvisation. I suspect at the moment they would respond far more deeply to an imposed structure, one example even, of a fully realised process or a model of collaboration.

Reflections from session  -- unedited quickfire notes from onenote on phone

Identity is ever shifting

Identity is not a good starting point for this course

Too self conscious

I started with a session plan. Group not into it, half hearted, so I stopped to explore

. Talked instead about the 'sharing'. Share what? was their response, and an assumption that they had to share as a 'company', as though to present that identity, it felt artificial or not worthy.  Misgivings about the amount of time spent on 'identity' or doing the same kinds of improvisations. Some of this the most natural concerns about not wanting to show process, not wanting to show weak material or things that people are finding hard to link to their own practice.

'We had to find our own structure' - expressed as a

grumble, but actually a very good thing.

So we went round the room, one sentence each to describe what that practice actually was. What is our individual purpose? What can we learn about each others motivations? How can these feed into roles within a group. Do these roles need to be fixed or can they be renegotiated each 'making'? The group is a group, but it is also a collection of individual purposes. Is there not great value in understanding each other's motivations, and areas of interest, and areas of resistance/avoidance?

What do we give versus what are we taking from sessions? If we are just taking what we think we need are we blocking ourselves? Equally though, is there a limit to this kind of story searching from 'self'?

What are our reasons behind disengaging? Fatigue/preservation. Not feeling relevant. Worn down by constant exercises in a room. Identity a difficult starting point, feeling too inward for some.

'this isn't what I expected' from the course

One member of group concerned about failing a module -- 'this last week' has been unsettling. Not doing what she wants to be doing. She wanted to be making immersive pieces, exploring what is needed to realise her ideas.

Group all concerned about 'too polite' 'too nice' culture. Liz lerman approach is seen as within this culture too. I suggested it was important to make their own purpose, and set their own values, and that other practices do exist, or adaptations from solid frameworks. 'If something is not good, say so' is one of their agreed cultural elements as a group...

'fuck polite' came up (quote cited not from group), in its most constructive form. A PACE culture that says 'we are here to excel, therefore it is a given that feedback can be strong and to the point', there is safety built in to the culture, trust, ability to disagree without ongoing issue'.

Linked to this. Conversation culture. The best reflection happening here, late night conversations, some free space. How can these be represented in sketchbook. Which lead on to the peril of recording... How do we capture the organic? We capture things however we like or can! Doodles even. Review and re present, note down, accept some ideas are meant for the ether. This term is all about sketchbook, any form.

The sharing. We want to show disgruntlement/frustration at the process, but don't want to upset people personally. Do it, I said. Build it in to your sharing.

We talked about the 'gesture'. How could this allow their true reflections expression? What are they trying to achieve for an audience, what are they trying to achieve for themselves, does it even have to be 'good'?

Began to imagine vehicles in which these could be explored along with elements of the learning.

Some real frustration from Lucy at one idea formalised from josh, that she felt was restrictive and not what she wanted.

Unhappy with the formlessness of the sharing task, and feeling that she had to fall in with an idea that didn't excite her. Challenge: Can you find a means or medium with this task as a context that does excite you? Can we help Lucy with this? Who is talking one on one with her at the moment. Her blog contains great material and she is bravely pulling things apart and looking to explore. The exploration of identity is something that is disturbing her.

Though this led the group to say that being lost in this way and disgruntled could be a good place and we were learning significant information about each other in this 'breakdown'. "Remember this moment for its frustration and lack of clarity" I said. Malik visibly enjoying this session, the honesty of it and the chance for everyone to share their key motivations. we are all leaders/guardians of a group culture, it is a good thing to make this founded on standards and principles that we have made ourselves. future conversations about growth culture and roles. Pinned the 'All blacks' group culture rules to the wall.

Conversation about 'company' versus 'collective'. Keen that whatever the descriptive word it wasn't reductive, 'a lot of this course is about us being a company'. I challenged that. We expressed what our primary artistic self 'is' again in one line. Several saying that this wasn't being served in the way they'd thought it would by the course.

We talked about suspending that and giving room for exploration that was disconnected from that public/polished artist. Safe place work. Can hard work exist on artistic self and group alongside 'professional' work. Challenging.

ALSO THOUGH -- and 1-1s bore this out, Josh has very good entrepreneurial ideas growing. They are workable things that are good enough now to be developed. I'll talk these angles through before session with Rachael...

Collective (though this term also has baggage for some) is a better reflection of separate voices.

Sharing can be fragments. It can be punctuated by any means. It can involve some of you/one of you/ all of you, sketches, unconnected elements, failed attempts, your writings. You can each lead on separate ideas, you can show flaws in the process, you can risk offending tutors, who are not beyond criticism or challenge.

Timetable is irregular... How do we work part time around it. Tiring too. -- issues for coach/mentor I suggested. Important to feedback. Similar stresses to working in industry though.

Worry mounted during session that honest expression of frustration could be seen as mutinous or that it would somehow take over.

Concern also though that they could just improvise and then be patted on theback, in the sharing. Rather than making work of deeper resonance.

All very valuable. Some definite signs of feeling vulnerable or rootless and not having a deep belief that this process was useful -- though a concern linked to 'pass' and 'assessment' in some cases. In other cases a feeling of formlessness, where work is usually deep rooted and significant before it is shared.

Josh wants specifics not abstracts. A 'formula'.

I allowed space for honest conversations, allowed us to revisit stated intentions of the identity project. Perhaps tried too hard to 'show' a way to unify the threads into a work in progress but got the point across that if a process fails that is just as useful as one working, try again. Tried to explain that this pulling together strands instinct is a useful one in projects, but also is a good one to be able to resist in practicing. By resisting pulling all the threads together we can surprise ourselves. We need trust in the underlying purpose though. We did begin to imagine some vehicles, some dramatic unifiers or conceits. And discussed 'the gesture'

One message I hope emerging from this session is that we as a 'cohort' (does thus word come from 'gardening together'? Horto garden - no. Yard or retinue, experiencing together ) are defining our own purpose and holding this to bear as our reference/standards. By understanding the change we want to put into effect we can strive and make art that offers comfort/discomfort and has deep integrity.

There is a wish to do this and be successful/reach many people.

Be a real model... Role model.

Bruce Lee, lifes work. Learning other styles. Ultimately forming his own style.

This group has a wide range of different skill sets, motivations and ambitions. It also has a strong sense of group solidarity and wish to make itself a group that promotes excellence.

It has a motto emerging, borrowed from Vonnegut ' Art should disturb the comfortable and comfort the disturbed'.

In order to discover we had to get lost - Malik at end of session

Let yourself fail It is not failure!

Sent from my Windows Phone

One on Ones (Weds)

Jess :

- Great vent yesterday, having slept on it is now keen to carry on as normal! Very useful process.

- Feeling a bit blocked in group, doubting her writing -- perception that Josh is judgemental about 'her kind' of work. We discussed different styles and ways of communicating. There is no point comparing stylistic choices of a Mondrian compared to a Turner just because they are both paintings. Similar with modes of poetry. Space for all kinds of genres.

- recognising the fun in her work, celebrating that. Working things out by doing them. Judgement from Josh is most likely only perceived. They have very good conversations too.

- Opportunity at The Forge, with Outspoken. Anthony Anaxagorou.

- Selection of material for that.

- Recording self. A good exercise.

- the space of poetry performing , less natural, more nervewracking than acting.

- 'i struggle with the before and after' -- some work on introducing pieces effectively.

Josh :

- writing exercises - store, think of way of making them, printing, distributing

- ampersand poems - a method. trying it out a lot. making good work from it. Make many, then think of presentation patterns?

- Poetry is Dead Good

- Review culture for poetry - john doran model at The Quietus. Setting this up is exactly what the enterprise section of teaching should be about.

Malik :

- embrace the challenge of 750words. com

- continue to enjoy Jacob's sessions and opening mind to other ways of writing

- PARTICULARLY leaving behind his tendency to edit while writing and pore over things in great detail while writing them. This kind of search for profound can hamstring yourself. Being open to noticing things emerging from free write is a good technique to develop.

- He has the vessel. He has a presence. He wants to develop the writing.

Notes from before session

Learning Outcomes, Course Thoughts (RH notes from before session, for self)

Some thoughts. For me as much as anything. I'm giving the group opportunities to engage with all of the 'learning outcomes' in my sessions, but am currently not chasing them up if they do not engage. Their levels in the seminars have been committed and high quality.

For example, the task I set at the end of the last session was to review a two page Norman Potter essay in light of work we have done already. Three of the group have responded. Having let this settle (my initial response was to chase up the three that haven't) I think it is fine for them to choose not to! The last line of the essay says

In the same way, if you want to link hands with the spirit of the modern movement, it won't come to meet you; you must go out and make it your own.'

Amen to that. I will ask the whole group if they read the essay though, as a starting point for conversation. It is short enough that I am going to read the whole thing out loud anyway as a group. There are gems within the difficult prose.

(This proved interesting. The group were disparaging about his pompous style and the academic nature of the text, while pulling out relevant points. The reading out loud task showed me that three hadn't engaged with the text at all beforehand. Most of the group have little experience of academic reading, and are wary of exploring it). Josh thinks it is a vital component, as are critical frameworks full stop. He wants to make a review culture for performance poetry, an achievable goal and a very good project to start up, there is a gap. RH to send him contemporary dance version of this idea. Knowledge that financial climate  v hard for a start up like this, but chance to explore it and the practicalities. The Quietus as music equivalent (they struggle to pay writers, as ad revenue way down).

--

'Learning Outcomes' for PREP

. This is interesting because :

- the students' responses articulate the central tension within this whole course for me.

Are we making work or are we learning how to analyse and present it in different contexts?

'Both' is a problematic answer in my opinion. Or at least, 'both simultaneously' is.

My approach to PREP seminars this term is geared towards the 'Sketchbook' and how that relates to each person's ability to take rich experiences from the other sessions. If paralysis by analysis seems to be setting in, I revert to pure making, with no outcome at all. I have found that thinking 'portfolio' at this stage is not really a useful focus. I'm also starting to wonder if we should totally separate what the students are doing on the course from their day to day artist lives, whereas I had envisaged at the beginning a situation in which students ran their public artistic lives alongside all the exploration they are doing.

VERY MUCH ALTERNATING WITH THIS. SOME WOULD REALLY BENEFIT FROM SUPPORT FOR THEIR OUTSIDE ACTIVITIES, which is the main relevance of the course ultimately. Others revelling in the space not to be outward looking. This is really a case by case question. Josh ready for some entrepreneurial experiences, also a purist (I asked him 'what do you want to get from the conservatoire?... more space to practice like the musicians get, was part of his response).

With six different disciplines (and in the future many more) are we preparing students to be able to articulate all areas of art and criticism, or are we enabling them to be the best they can be at their mode(s) of making art? Can these two co-exist without problem? (I ask myself!)

Arguably, either of those two targets are a full time job in themselves, if we are aiming at the highest levels of performance. And if this was a group environment away from a certified degree, I believe we would be identifying very different outcomes for each of the six people on the course.

eg.

Josh - page poet. career parallel line in theatre writing perhaps. also able to manage critical learning simultaneously. Malik - performer, socially engaged activist, in 'art as therapy' stage of career. Lucy - writer, also devisor. Searching stage. I believe her main strength may yet prove to be synergising others.Jess - performer, early stage exploration of pure writing craft too. theatre/environment sidelines.Kenny - commercial angles, extra work, acting, fashion. Very aware of marketplace. Online focus. Abbi - entertainer at heart.

Which leads me on to the Enterprise element of the course (initially loaded towards the Summer Term 'developing and pitching a proposal'). The enterprise element of each of the 6 will of course also be different. It will also, in most cases fall into two categories :

1. 'Selling' a skill that has developed to such a degree that it is worthy of a platform, performance or development 2. Enabling yourself to be in an environment in which you can live/feed yourself while developing towards 'goals' that will add you your profile as an artist/practitioner. [with a third 'BE READY' opportunistic category, linked to both.]

These are simplified but, if it is 1. then an artist's time really should be spent almost exclusively developing their craft, 'creative skills'. If it is 2. perhaps more time spent on contextual matters and understanding business. The reality of an artist's life may involve both (though not necessarily! A purist may prefer to do work that doesn't overlap with their crafts at all).

PREP mirrors other modules

Term 1 - Identity. Working Practice. Individual (within a group). MAKING. Term 2 - Collab Working. Individual as component of a group. MAKING.Term 3 - Outside In. Socially engaged. Starting to think of funded models and projects which they will lead.

The poets I have had one-ones with definitely do have entrepreneurial strands forming already.

JOSH - Has run poetry events in Nottingham, wants to do the same in London. Other strands too. JESS - She performs/Roundhouse/Festivals. She does however, want space to develop her craft away from the performance poet culture. MALIK - Like Jess, his aims would mainly benefit from not thinking business at the moment. He is wanting to develop a conscious style of hip hop performance, the details of which are slowly emerging.

other group members - not had one-one with them :

ABBI - not had one-one time with Abbi, who has also been unwell LUCY - she is steadily building portfolio from all experiences. Her writing is flourishing too. KENNY - Loads of leads in acting/modelling/extra plus online music. Is he focussed on lessons from course too?