#also the banner has alt text but it's just what the text says my mind is not working today

[skyburger]

[hswriting]

The Moment I Knew - a Taylor Swift song inspired piece.

[Image Alt ID: a collage of images with a black background. There are six images. Image one is a table arranged with jars of red jelly, white cookies with red icing, and cake pops. The second image is a black shadow of hands making a heart in front of a red lit wall. The third image is a white background and a red, ruffled dress. The fourth image is a red body of water. The fifth image is a group of red and white balloons surrounding a chandelier. The final image is a table set with black placemats and jars of roses. Balloon strings are hanging from the ceiling. End Alt ID]

- - -

Masterlist Series Part 2

- - -

1.9k words

- - -

And the hours pass by. Now I just wanna be alone but your close friends always seem to know when there’s something really wrong so they follow me down the hall, and there in the bathroom I try not to fall apart, and the sinking feel starts as I say hopelessly, “ he said he’d be here”.

“Millie, do you know what you’re going to wear tonight?” Rachel asks me and I shake my head. She planned me a wonderful birthday party with all of my friends and my boyfriend. Some of his friends are invited too.

“I have some dresses in mind, but nothing certain. I want to look my best since you said I have to dress formal.” I tell her.

“Well, I talked to Kellen and he said he would be here to set up, and he also told me he would be wearing red if that helps.”

“It does actually. I only have one dress that’s red.” I say and pull it from the closet.

“I love that dress. It’s so beautiful Millie.” She says as I walk into the bathroom to change. I come out, full makeup, the diamond earrings Kellen got me on my ears, and our locket on my neck. When I step out, Rachel is gone, probably to go put the finishing touches on the decorations. While I wait for her to come and get me to go out into the party, I text Kellen.

Me: hey. How is everything going with decorating? Rachel on your nerves yet?

And I wait. And wait. And wait. And no reply. Maybe she really has put him to work. I put my phone away and take a deep breath. I hope 23 is good to me. I’ve been through so much the past few years and things are starting to look up now. Kellen is amazing. And I finally have a job that I love. I am a transcription writer online. And I hope things continue to get better.

I hear a small tap on my door and Rachel peeks her head in. “You ready?” She asks and I nod. She steps out and leads me to the huge kitchen where the party is set up. Music is playing softly and as soon as everyone comes into view they begin to sing happy birthday. I smile and look at the lovely faces around the room. Every one smiling. They all look amazing. So formal but so casual at the same time. There are Christmas lights still hanging around the room, but the walls are covered with red, black, and white decorations. Balloons fill the ceiling and banners cover the wall. Tables are full of cake pops, jars of jelly, crackers, and cookies. Closest to me is a small cake with 23 written across it in red icing. But as I continue to look for the one person I want to see the most, their face isn’t there.

Kellen isn’t here. But I don’t let my smile fall yet. Maybe it’s a surprise.

As the song comes to a close, I close my eyes and blow out the candles on top of my cake and everyone cheers. Music begins to play loudly and I am served cake and other snacks. Everyone is having fun. But I have yet to see Kellen. I make my way across the room, greeting and hugging people as I go to find Rachel.

“What do you think? Good party huh?” She says as she stops dancing to face me.

“It’s great. I appreciate you doing this for me. But where is Kellen? I thought he helped me out set up?”

“He said he was going to but never came. I thought maybe he would have come by now?” She said. She must have been able to see the heartbreak on my face, because she said “we will find out. Go have fun. I’ll have our friends text him and see.”

“Thanks Rachel.” I tell her and walk back to the table. Me and my friends that are near take some selfies and pictures in front of the birthday banner. I take some pictures even with Kellen’s friends who I don’t know super well but I know their names. When we do a group photo, I ask them where he would be?

“He never got ahold of anyone since 4. At 4 he said he planned to be here. But he isn’t picking up. Sorry Millie.” Jason said. I sat back down and just watched the clock. I don’t remember much about opening gifts. Just me watching the door. The party goes on around me but I can’t help by have an ache in my chest from him not showing up. I know I should be grateful for everyone here but I feel awful. I get up and run to the bathroom as I hear laughter in another room. Hot tears stream down my cheeks. And I hear a few sets of footsteps behind me. I rush into the bathroom and before I can shut the door our friends are there.

“Mille we are so sorry.” Jason says. “Kellen should have been here.”

“He should be here. Why isn’t he here? Was anyone else able to get ahold of him?” I asked and an uncomfortable silence fell upon them. “What aren’t you telling me?” I direct at the group of them.

“I took the call. Let me tell her.” The one whose name I’m pretty sure is Harry, says. They nodded and let him continue. “I picked up the phone and he asked me how it was going. I obviously bitched him out for not being here. He was pissed but asked me to cover for him. I’ll spare you the details but basically he was with another girl. I told him I don’t speak for everyone, but I don’t want to be friends with someone like that. He got mad and hung up the phone.” He said sadly and I couldn’t even see my eyes were so full with tears.

“Harry may not speak for the rest of us but I’m sure I can. We don’t want him either. What he did was shitty and he ruined your birthday. We’re on your side Millie.” Jason said and everyone agreed with him. They surrounded me and hugged me. It was the most supportive anyone has treated me ever. And these six boys just made my night. They could have kept it a secret. They could have defended him. But they didn’t. They stood by me when they didn’t have to.

“You guys are the best.” I say as we separate. I am still tearing up but I might be okay.

“No. You just deserve the best.” Harry says. Everyone begins to file out of the bathroom but Harry asks me to stay. “I don’t want to come off creepy. But in case you want someone to talk to, who knows what you’re going through, can I give you my number?” He asks.

I ponder this for a second. He seems so genuine. So sweet. He really didn’t want to tell me the bad news but was willing to give up his best friend for it.

“If you don’t want to I completely understand. I’m not trying to be like that and take advantage. I just know I could have used someone who had been through the same thing when it happened to me.”

“That would be good” I tell him. He lets me dry my tears with his handkerchief and then walks me out. I take him to my room. “I’m so sorry it’s a mess.” I say. He says he doesn’t mind. I grab a piece of paper and he writes his number down and I do the same for him. We go and rejoin the last few minutes of the party. Everyone starts to exchange good byes. Rachel, Harry, Jason, and the rest of his now ex-friends are the last to leave, helping clean up and giving me words of support. Harry gives me a look before shutting the door behind them. All that’s left is me. I take off this hot dress and get into my comfy fuzzy pajamas. As I’m wiping my red lipstick off onto a cotton pad, my phone begins to ring. It’s Kellen.

“Hello?” I say, a slight break in my voice at just the thought of hearing his excuse.

“Millie, I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for your birthday. I got caught up at work.” He says and my heart breaks even more. He lied.

“I’m sorry too.” I tell him.

“Let me come over tomorrow to make it up to you?” He asks.

“No. I don’t want you to come over. I can’t do this.” I tell him, feeling more tears run down my face. My hands unconsciously grab the locket I never take off. I forget it’s there sometimes.

“Do what Mil?” He asks, nervous now.

“This. Us. What you did tonight was an awful thing to do.”

“I told you that I got caught up at work. How can you blame me for this? You’re crazy if you think it was my fault!”

“No I’m not crazy. Don’t turn this around on me Kellen. They told me what you did. You were with another girl. Don’t lie to me.” I tell him. I’m starting to get angry.

“They told you? Why the hell would they do that to me. They’re my friends!”

“Not anymore. Guess they don’t want to be around someone who is unfaithful. A cheater. Throwing away a good thing. How could you do that to me?”

“You never want to put out. So I went somewhere else. I was tired of nothing.” He said truthfully and it felt like a knife in my chest.

“I never put out? Kellen you never have acted like this before. We always talked stuff out. Why didn’t you talk to me? You’ve never been so mean.”

“You didn’t want to hear it.”

“Whatever Kellen. We are done. Now you can go fuck whoever you want. Not that us being in a relationship stopped you anyways.”

“Yeah. I’ll make sure I tell your friend Sam I said hi when I go back to her house.”

“Fuck you.” I said and hung up the phone. I’ve never cried so hard. My chest has never hurt this bad.

Everything hurts so much. How can you do that to someone. Let alone a friend. I don’t understand what flipped in him. We have never had an issue like this. We always talk out the ones we do. But I guess I never really got the truth. He was just tolerating me the entire time just so he wasn’t alone.

Ding

My phone chimed and I pick it back up.

Unknown number: this is Harry. How are you doing?

I save the number and reply after wiping my eyes.

Me: I’m decent considering everything.

Harry: you don’t have to act fine if you’re not. It’s okay to be upset about it.

Me: I don’t want to bother you too much. Or you’ll get tired of me too.

Harry: I’ve been through this. Don’t worry about me. I’m here to support you.

Me: I appreciate you. We just broke up on the phone. He gave me the details. He’s so awful.

Harry: I’m sorry, love. Is there anything I can do?

Me: erase the past 11 months would be great. I’ve got so much stuff that reminds me of him I don’t know what to do with now.

Harry: what all do you have?

Me: Clothes. Pictures. This fucking locket he gave me for our six month anniversary. I hate it so much

Harry: if you want to, I have a fireplace. We could burn it?

Me: Fuck. Yes.

Harry: I’ll send you my address. Want to come at 6?

Me: yes. Can I bring some wine and snacks?

Harry: of course. See you then love.

- - -

Masterlist Series Part 2

- - -

If you would like to be on a tag list, message me and let me know!

[reveseke]

Confessions confessions

PT. Confessions confessions. PT end

Image ID. A medium sized banner made of a picture featuring 5 arcade game machines colored mainly in purple in a tilted position lined up against a wall, there is a small glimpse of mat in the far right corner of a simple 90s star arcade design with varying colors. The first machine has visible text that reads "gauntlet legends", no other text is visible. Image ID end.

-Request? Yes

-Cobra Kai

Enby!Reader(you/your), Anthony Larusso

Heed the warnings: fluff, no actual warnings by far lol

Other info : Reader isn't part of any dojo, no pronouns used but he him & he they mentioned for the reader, R has light background. This isn't exactly what the request said, but i'm adjusting and need HC rn lol this is a character i haven't written for before and i will absolutely go write a blurb for this afterwards bc i think it's a really cute idea and i want to write a blurb for it but this is a little too long for it already. :< Also i try to avoid gendered language on readers behalf so there's a brief pause over terms.

Also i included a brief personal Sam Larusso headcanon there somewhere which is kinda relevant to pronouns. Have fun with it, Ig?

DNI - Fudanashis/fujodashis, women & fem-aligned, profic/proship, anti - LGBTQ+ folk & exclusionists, anti-antis, Necro- Zoo- Pedophiles + (NO)Maps(and other terms), basic DNI criteria, kink/nude/nsfw/sh/vent/pro-ana/ed/18+ blogs

Squishy squishy squishy squishy warm soft pricks and needles i think that would be how he'd describe the feeling he has when he sees you.

I don't see him being that easy to sway off his legs. But when you do he'll Be a little boisterous and a show off.

He'd absolutely use white lies if he speaks with you(like in P.E or you other shared classes), like mostly of the karate; saying he's practicing and really good at it! Meanwhile he's yet to actually even joining myagi-do.

He'd imo be the type to be a little akward and just observing from afar for a little while.

If you have any pins on your clothes or bags make it pronoun, gender or interest or just for aesthetic he's most likely seen them and carved them into his mind.

.

Using these as separators as my eyes can't keep up lmao

.

Wouldn't even question it much if your nonbinary. He'd rolls with it and if he doesn't understand it completely he's absolutely googling or asking around to understand it.

Imo He's a respectful little man; pronouns, gender identity doesn't matter he'll respect you!

He's seen through the struggle of being misgenred and tries his best if you solely use they/them pronouns, with he/they pronouns he will try to include the they them pronouns somewhere in there.

And something about gn/masc gendered language, he'd ask you if you'd prefer either one or both to be used.

I think he would absolutely make sure you aren't misgendered. He'll gladly correct others upon it.

.

.

Personal headcanon on Larussos I'm including bc i can ! I think Sam's transfemine and got on HRT & puberty blockers pretty early on being able to be as she is in the series. :³

↑ this helping Ant adjust pretty easily to they them pronoun use for you. Bc he had to adjust to his sister's.

.

.

Also never say that Sam wouldn't be making fun of Ant's little crush on you when she catches on.

It's the big sibling duty from what I've observed and gone through as well. He would absolutely end up spilling to her about you.

And if she has heard of you she will be either surprised or shocked. It really depends on if your known for something or just striking to the eyes, if she has not she will seek you out in the crowds especially when you get to be a junior in highschool(am i using that correctly? Lmao )

Also about the being striking or well known for something i meantlike something around these at first and don't feel like deleting this part lmao -> Like alt style, other kind of style that's striking like really colorful or bland outfits/accessories, mitch-matching etc, piercings? Being public about being gay/male-/masc-loving, being public about being nonbinary or something like that etc etc. Something you did, your family (or rather siblings or possibly parents, maybe pets?), being a menace etc etc etc. These are mere ideas none will be used tho in this lol

.

Using these as separators as my eyes can't keep up lmao

.

The little man is nervous as he brains storms good ideas for a confession. Does he go in just face-to-face or or.. wait valentines day.

Let's think it the way students get the cards and they aren't read out loud anynomous and you have to write your name on the card y'know.

So you get a valentines day cards from your friends, or rather those that did them. To say you were rather surprised, no matter if he's in your class or not.

Just.. what if the card is just that, a long and a little messy confession where he fumbles over the words even if written and it kinda looks hilarious and circles few things around and around. But ending with his phone number.

You went on your day like always, but Ant did shine more in the crowds than usual in your eyes. No ody could blame you after what you read. And he was actually just blanantly staring at you sometime even and turning away swiftly with fluster.

You did think it was cute tho. Not to mention you had had a small crush on him as well for a year or so by now, but you couldn't make yourself confess.

.

Using these as separators as my eyes can't keep up lmao

. Also i have no idea how to write actual dating, i have never been interested in it so i ask you to spare me for it, I'm trying/hj lmao

When you answer him in the end he'll be over the moon. He'll also be an utter mess and absolutely be running to ask his sister for help.

Setting up casual hang outs at first and getting to know each other, going to the arcade and golfing and maybe helping each other with school work if you may lol.

He's in person very nervous and rambling about all the stuff, he might even question you about your pins esp if they are about your interest and bring them in converstations.

I think he could be a curious kind when brought out of the shell and be interested in learning a thing or two. Extra points if you end up bonding rather tightly because of a shared interest.

Also his sister pestering the two of you? Like embrassing Ant like any sibling would do in front of his crush and later on date. Love interest?

[ahtsumu]

目送 ; oikawa tooru

「alt. title: five times oikawa didn’t look back and the one time he did」

↳ pairing: oikawa tooru x f!reader

↳ synopsis: you spend a lifetime watching him go, sometimes with your stomach tied in knots, sometimes with tears in your eyes, but always with love.

↳ genre(s): angst, fluff, basically an emotional rollercoaster, non-linear storyline

↳ warning(s): profanity, depiction of a panic attack, suggestive themes

↳ length: 5.4k words

↳ a/n: hq fam how we doing after 402 ?? LOL anyway this is my birthday gift to oikawa tooru: my sun, moon, and stars, second to none, yadda yadda. the title is taken from a book with the same name, in case you were wondering. please pay attention to the roman numerals ahead of each section!! enjoy!

v.

“This is the last call for Japan Airlines flight 717 to Buenos Aires, now boarding at gate number twelve. This is the last call…”

Goodbyes are hard when you know they’re forever. Or at least a while.

The clamour of Haneda airport dims to a faint buzz as the two of you continue standing with touching shoulders–– facing the jetliner instead of each other–– in futile hopes of delaying the inevitable.

Oikawa knows that you’re holding in your tears by the light tremors running through your body. Permitting himself to steal a look at your side profile, he notices the familiar tensing of your jaw and hard-set look in your red-rimmed eyes.

Tch. You said you wouldn’t cry.

Impulsively, he unzips his backpack and pulls out a familiar turquoise banner. It feels like just yesterday the team handed him the silk fabric with everyone’s farewell gifts wrapped inside.

Out-of-sequence memories of the Spring High qualifiers flash through your mind. The orange-haired Karasuno player’s spike ricochets off Oikawa’s forearms. The numbers on both sides of the scoreboard slowly inch up like they’re taking turns. Oikawa’s white knuckles against the metal basin. Red eyes. Heaving chest. Something soft against your skin. Rule the Court.

And just like the last time, he gently drapes it over your shoulders, brushing his fingers against your neck as he does so. God, how he wants to kiss you.

“But it’s yours,” you protest weakly, making no move to give it back.

“It won’t be for a while.” His voice cracks when he speaks. But it will be mine again when I come back for it.

He wants to kiss you. One last time.

He wants your mouth against his like absolution to a sinner because he knows that what he’s done to you, what he’s doing to you right now, is comparable to desecration. But he remembers the look on your face that night he broke the news to you. How your megawatt grin caved into a wince when the length of his contract with Club Athletico San Juan finally registered in your mind.

You swallow your feelings of betrayal. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Five years is an awfully long time to be apart,” you say after a while.

Oikawa bites his lip. He doesn’t have the heart to say that five was just the starting number. If he does well there, he’ll probably stay longer. He’ll probably do well there. “You don’t have to wait for me.”

Seconds drag into minutes. The cavity in his stomach festers as he waits for your response, but he has a feeling that he already knows your answer.

So instead, all he can do when your floodgates finally burst open is cup your face in his calloused palms and wipe away some of your tears before offering you his own watery smile.

Through your blurred vision, you watch as the boy in front of you steels his resolve and disappears from your life through the jet bridge, ignoring his heart as it begs for one last look over his shoulder.

Oikawa nods numbly when the old man sitting beside him asks if he’s leaving home for the first time. Home, he realises, isn’t anywhere with walls, isn’t an address, isn’t even a person. When someone says they want to go home, it’s not a space that they yearn for, but rather, a time.

He watches Japan grow smaller through the window and feels himself yearn for the time he still had your heart in his hands. It felt like he was holding the sun.

i.

You wouldn’t consider July 21st to be a special day. Nothing special happened earlier that morning when you woke up without your usual alarm. Nothing special happened when your friends texted you four simple words–– come to Azukihana beach!–– during breakfast. But (and this will come to you much, much later) something special happened when said friends left you to guard their things as they dashed to the supermarket for more snacks.

For now, it’s just July 21st, and you’re lying with your back against a towel on the first day of summer break, soaking in the sun, peacefully flipping through a book.

“DON’T FUCKING DO IT, YOU COLOSSAL PIECE OF SHIT!” The familiar voice tears through the beach. Was that Iwaizumi? You set the book down and sit up to check.

And suddenly, the yellow and blue volleyball that had been leisurely rolling your way halts perfectly before your toes. Behind it jogs a shirtless brunet you’ve definitely seen around school.

Oikawa Tooru stops right behind the runaway volleyball and peers at you through half-lidded eyes. “Sorry about that,” he says, flashing you a charming smile.

After casually picking up the ball with one hand, he flexes his abdominal muscles as he straightens back up. Chestnut irises attempt to discreetly sweep over your features but you catch his gaze in the act, quirking an unamused brow. You also catch the intrigued twitch of his lips that follow.

You’re not stupid. Despite having never met him, you know a lot about the Grand King (as many call him). He’s the constant subject of Iwaizumi’s ire and you’ve heard a lifetime’s complaints about him at joint-family luncheons.

But here’s what’s important: you know that he tears himself apart to be the player his team needs him to be, that he sometimes makes Iwaizumi wish he’d passed the Shiratorizawa entrance exam, and that he fiddles with hearts like origami and sets fire to those beautiful fragile trinkets right after.

And in the interest of self-defence (but against what the devil on your shoulder begs), you choose to not place your most prized possession on the table.

A simple “no worries” passes through your lips. You return to your book. A page turns.

Oikawa Tooru is dismissed.

Though your gaze is trained on the page, you can feel his presence at your feet for a few seconds longer. You wonder what his next move is. Much to your surprise, instead of trying to strike up another conversation, he simply lets out an airy hum and strolls back to the sand court where he came from without a second glance.

Iwaizumi wonders why Oikawa is smiling so victoriously after watching the whole ordeal, but your tan family friend has, unlike the calculating Grand King, failed to notice one important detail:

your book is upside down.

And, as if in a trance, your eyes have followed Oikawa all the way back to his sandy kingdom.

Once the sun has set, Iwaizumi checks his phone and notices a text he’d missed in the afternoon. It’s from Y/N. Unease digs itself in his chest when he realises it can’t possibly be for anything except…

hey what was that about?

This can’t be good. Thumbs rapidly typing a response, he races to quash any interest you may have budding in Oikawa. You… you’re good. Nice. Smart enough for UTokyo. A bit naive, but he’s been around your overbearing parents long enough to see it’s not entirely your fault. And even though you run in different circles at school, he feels obligated to protect you from monsters that hide beneath pretty surfaces. He’s known you since the two of you were in diapers.

just trash being what it is

Iwaizumi watches the three grey dots on your side appear, disappear, reappear, and disappear again. And that’s when he realises that he cannot help you. The villain in this arc of your story has already sunken his teeth in your tender, unsullied flesh.

trash?

He sighs.

oikawa

It isn’t a surprise to Iwaizumi when summer break ends and Oikawa’s chestnut eyes start hunting for someone in the cafeteria during lunch. He doesn’t raise a brow when he hears that the second-year captain has been sneaking into Class 7, sometimes with flowers in his hands, and strolling out with a dazed look on his face. He slaps his teammates out of shock when Oikawa mentions his troubles with pursuing some girl–– but not before slapping himself first. Because the Oikawa he knows is not a chaser.

“Her name’s Y/N,” the brunet says, suddenly realising that he has never introduced any of his temporary interests to the team. But it’s been well over two months and he’s starting to think he’s been friend-zoned. Or worse. “I think she hates me.” He laughs melodically, then cocks his head in contemplation. “Is it weird that I kinda like that?”

Iwaizumi hides a satisfied smile behind a sip of water. Oikawa’s revelation has cleared the unease your name brought to his chest. Just a little. Perhaps he’d misread you. You have a bite of your own.

iii.

It’s routine for Oikawa to slink into Class 7 with a dazzling grin during morning break, but he’ll sometimes show up with flowers instead just to remind you that his affections, along with his modus operandi–– haven’t changed since he first started visiting you in September.

The girls in your homeroom have grown used to seeing the six-foot-tall volleyball captain hovering around your desk like a butterfly. Most treat him as part of the scenery nowadays. To them, Oikawa Tooru is no longer the mysterious, out-of-reach deity the rest of the school still paints him to be.

So when he strolls into class on a chilly January afternoon with your name a tune on his lips, they leave him be. Recently, the ladies of Seijoh have focused their attentions on some fellow on the swim team, anyway. Oikawa doesn’t feel as upset as he thinks he should about his shrinking fan club, but when his gaze finds yours already steady, expectant, utterly adoring on him, he understands why.

“For the lady,” he says like he does every time. A cluster of yellow flowers wrapped in brown kraft paper plop onto your desk. He pulls a chair up to your side, purposely ignoring, again, how two certain grooves in the wooden floor keep growing deeper with his visits.

You remember the first time he started bringing you flowers.

A posy of pink flowers sits awkwardly on your desk, untouched.

“I tell you I’d rather take your serve to my face than attend the bunkasai with you and your response is to give me weeds?” you reply with your chin in the palm of your hands, amusement blossoming over your features.

“Stop being a tease, Y/N-chan, they’re flowers,” he huffs, crossing his arms on your desk. “And I know you want to take them. The florist even said I have immaculate taste.”

“Really? Then what do these mean?”

Oikawa falters.

“Hmm?”

“Pink camellias,” he finally says, carefully enunciating the flower's name, “means that you’re a fucking tease. And that you should come to the bunkasai with me.” You snort and tell him to quit volleyball and join comedy club, feeling a strange warmth in your chest when he laughs.

The two of you fall into the same rhythm as always, talking a little bit about this and that, throwing in witty remarks where they belong, never passing up the chance to make fun of each other’s little idiosyncrasies. He’s enraptured by the way you string words together to describe the story behind your class’s bunkasai performance and all the gears in your brain whirr when he explains the strategy he’s using against the team Seijoh’s playing later that day.

When the bell rings, he reluctantly drags his chair back to the desk he stole it from. Just before he slinks back out the door, though, you tell him with a stern gaze that the Ushiwaka from Shiratorizawa he just spent the break shit-talking doesn’t hold a candle to Seijoh’s Grand King.

It’s like you had just stepped under a new light. Oikawa pauses in front of the doorway, trying to decipher what it is that’s different about you. And suddenly, the roses in his cheeks are in full bloom. Delighted and puzzled at his own realisation, he turns around without a second glance your way and strides back to Class 5. Oh, man, he muses as he passes through the emptying corridor. Oh, man. Iwa-chan is going to love this.

Your phone buzzes later that evening.

seijoh v. shiratorizawa 1-2, the text reads, quickly followed by, GAH.

Your lips twitch, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. Tapping your fingers against your phone screen for a response that’ll cheer him up, you suddenly remember a phrase Oikawa said earlier that day. It drew a laugh from you when it came out his contorted face.  He was obviously still hung up over with the words of the opposing team’s ace. Hopefully, it makes him feel something else coming from you.

you should’ve come to shiratorizawa, you send, grinning.

His response is immediate.

l m f A O

what flowers would you like at your funeral?

And then you’re reminded of his petalled gift on your desk, now comfortably sitting in a glass vase at your bedside. Pink camellias, he said? Curious, you open your laptop and type in the name for its meaning.

Longing, you remember, watching your boyfriend chatter about something–– probably aliens–– animatedly. The yellow flowers on your desk, you realise, are ones you’ve never seen before.

“Oikawa, what’s the name of these?” you suddenly ask. He stops in the middle of his sentence (he was definitely talking about aliens, by the way), and grins smugly.

“Jonquils,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “spelt J-O-N-Q-U-I-L-S, means that your boyfriend’s going to colonise Mars one day. And if you’re lucky, you can be the first queen of Mars. How ‘bout that?”

It doesn’t mean what he says it does, by the way.

ii.

Splashes of pink and orange have already settled into the blue sky above when you step onto the rooftop of Seijoh’s humanities building. Despite the breeze that has swept through the air, the flame of curiosity in your stomach burns just enough for you to turn a cheek to the cold.

Come to the rooftop at 6 PM.

It’s 5:59. Impatient, you study the note in your hand again. Maybe you’ll be able to glean something from the laconic letter this time.

Much to your irritation, no one had seen the author of this note. They had expertly placed the unsigned card on your desk with a single rose and Hershey’s chocolate kiss on top during lunch. Elegantly scrawled, their seven words have had your brain running circles all day around their identity. Could it be…? No–– he seemed completely normal earlier today. Still, you can’t shake your suspicions. They borderline hope.

Who else…

You inhale the cool air deeply and lean back against the rooftop railing, eyes burning a hole into the metal entrance. The door swings open with a high-pitched groan. Your breath catches in your throat.

… if not him?

Time briefly stops when Oikawa Tooru steps through the entrance, still in his volleyball uniform, sweaty from practice, cheeks the same colour as the setting sun. There’s an unusually tentative look on his face, though it’s immediately wiped off and replaced with the realisation that this is real when he sees you slightly slack-jawed, blinking once, twice, three times before letting out a breath.

“You look surprised. Expecting someone else to confess today?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of his uniformed chest. Despite how his features are contorted by his poorly hidden jealousy, you can’t help but feel a flood of blood rush through your veins, lighting every inch of your skin on fire.

Because whether he knows it or not, Oikawa, the Grand King of the Court, prettiest boy in all of Miyagi, has skipped the table and placed his heart straight into your hands.

“Of course not,” you retort. “I just didn’t think you’d… well, do something like this.” And I didn’t want to get my hopes up. Iwaizumi’s words still find their way into your mind sometimes. I didn’t want origami made from my heartstrings.

Oikawa’s demeanour changes and his eyes dart away from your face. Shoving his hands into his windbreaker’s pockets, he admits, “I’ve honestly never done something like this before.” A faint blush spreads across his cheeks.

“Really? You’ve never stepped foot in the fourteenth shrine of Sendai?” you tease, referring to how Seijoh students have claimed this very rooftop as one of the God of Love’s many temples. You both know he holds the school record for the number of visits to this rooftop. At this rate, he could be one of its caretakers.

“That’s not what I meant,” he replies with a scowl, though the awkward tension between you two dissipates. And it feels like the two of you are back at your desk in Class 7, snickering uncontrollably while throwing playful jabs at each other. Sensing the change in atmosphere, Oikawa finally steps forward to join you by the railing.

Humming softly, he rests his elbows on the metal bar, props his head up with his hands, and sets his gaze on the lowering sun.

It’d be unfair to say that you didn’t at least try to enjoy the moment of peace with the boy beside you. But there’s a burning question on your mind that you can’t put off asking any longer.

“Why me?” you finally blurt out. “You could have any girl in this school. What made you choose me?”

The brunet whips his head around, disbelief written all over his face. “You think I chose to chase after the most annoying girl in all of Miyagi?” He laughs. “Ridiculous. I’d never willingly put myself through that unnecessary angst.”

You scoff and cross your arms.

“I think that when you like someone, it’s harder to explain why,” he quickly adds. “‘Cause it’s not supposed to make sense. I bet that the inability to explain your feelings is a prerequisite for true feelings, actually. It’s logical to say that you’d date Person A because they’re smart, or Person B because they’re hot, or Person C because they’re rich. But I’m pretty sure that that’s not… that’s not falling for someone. When you fall for someone… you just do. No logic required. You weren’t an option I ultimately settled on, Y/N. One day I just woke up and thought, if not you, then no one else.”

A beat passes. A flurry of words floods through your brain, only to evaporate when the devil on your shoulder decides that words aren’t quite adequate for what you want Oikawa to hear.

So instead, your feet take you one step closer into his space. Impulsively, your fingers find their way to his nape and your eyes flutter shut and suddenly–– suddenly, your parted lips brush against Oikawa’s. Instantly, he deepens the kiss, soft lips surging against yours like a pulse under pressure. You barely register his arms snaking around your waist, tighter and tighter until the space between your bodies is completely closed off.

Breathless, you finally detach your lips from his. Oikawa, who still has you encircled in his arms, pouts at the loss of contact, though he sulky façade only lasts a second before it gives way to a grin that stretches from ear to ear. He looks magnificent. Cheeks red, lips flushed, chest heaving, eyes wide with excitement. You want to kiss him again.

“One more.” It’s as if he read your mind. “To celebrate that last one.”

When Oikawa finally detaches himself from your lips, it’s to respond to the buzzing in his pocket. Noticing your raised brows, he explains that it’s an alarm for practice. The Spring High Prelims are just around the corner and he doesn’t plan on graduating without never having taken his team to Nationals.

“That’s my cue,” he states with a warm–– read: not apologetic–– smile. He doesn’t grab your hand or look imploringly into your eyes in hopes that you understand, never mind that you just shared your first kiss, never mind that you just became his girlfriend.

If Oikawa’s looking for any sign of your objection, he won’t find any. Instead, you step out of his space with an acquiescent nod. You knew what you were getting yourself into.

“Play well,” you say softly.

But before he heads for the creaky rooftop door, he presses one last kiss to your lips. And then he turns around, whistling as he goes, leaving you beaming behind his back with the light of a thousand suns.

iv.

When Matsukawa hands you the turquoise “Rule the Court” banner after the team lunch with a shit-eating grin on his face, the only resistance you offer is a resigned sigh.

“I’ve been dating Oikawa since we were second years,” you say flatly.

“Sorry, Y/N-san, but it’s the team’s hazing ritual,” he replies, not appearing sorry at all. “And you’re the only one who hasn’t done it.” He jerks his head at the blonde girl standing a little farther from the group with Hanamaki. “Emiko-san did it at the last game.”

“Plus, it’s the Spring High qualifier semifinals!” Kindaichi adds. “It’s an even bigger deal for you to do it now, especially since you had to miss our games on the first two days for school.” The team murmurs in agreement.

You shudder at the thought of your impending distress. Sit in the front row of the cheer squad and raise the banner with a scream every time your boyfriend serves? Fleeing from the Sendai City Gymnasium back home in an expensive taxi suddenly becomes very appealing.

Seeing the expectant and hopeful looks on the rest of the team’s faces, however, you begrudgingly place the banner in your backpack, signalling your acceptance of the horrible, cringe-worthy tradition.

“Where is Oikawa-san?” Kindaichi asks, rotating his turnip-shaped head around rapidly. “He was just at the team lunch. Iwaizumi-san’s missing too…”

Kunimi shrugs, pulling out his copy of the team schedule. He starts herding the team towards one of the courts. “Our game against Karasuno starts about an hour, so we should start warm-ups in around fifteen minutes.”

Worry creeps up your spine. For the past few days, all Oikawa has talked about is this match against his bratty kouhai’s team. And in the past two weeks leading up to today, you haven’t been able to even catch a glimpse of his face outside of break or lunch. To suddenly go missing before warm-ups doesn’t seem like Oikawa. You’re about to ask the team if he’s ever done this before, but your phone starts ringing a familiar tune and the question is set aside.

“Iwai––”

“Third-floor bathroom by the orange pillar. Come alone. Don’t tell anyone. Emergency.” Through his harsh and abrupt tone, you pick up traces of fear.

“What––”

“It’s Oikawa.” The call is cut before you can ask any more questions. Heart suddenly racing, you tell the team that your mother just called with questions about your new smart blender and excuse yourself to “explain what the manufacturers mean by salsify”. No one sees you bolt towards the nearest set of staircases with Oikawa the only thought on your mind.

There are very few things in this world that scare you. Stray hairs in the bathroom, the dark, essays longer than three pages… but the terror that short-circuits your brain when you find your boyfriend in the bathroom–– knuckles white around the sink, chest heaving violently, frenzied pupils surrounded by broken blood vessels–– trumps any fear you’ve faced before.

Iwaizumi stands helplessly beside him.

“Is he having a panic attack?” you question, still unable to move your feet. You’ve never seen Oikawa like this before. He’s the Grand King who hums while he walks, who spams your phone’s camera roll with peace-signs and funny faces, who winks and flirts and teases without regard. But watching the long-deified setter crumble like a measly human before you, you realise that Oikawa is also the guy who tore his meniscus from overexertion, who trades sleep to study his opponents play, who works his body to the bone just to stay a hairline above a certain Karasuno setter.

“A scout for the Schweiden Adlers said that Kageyama will soon surpass Oikawa in skill.” Iwaizumi explains how they had overheard the conversation lowly in your ear. “I got us into this bathroom just before he completely lost it. 5-4-3-2-1 isn’t working. And he won’t listen to a word I say.” What’s 5-4-3-2-1? Well, if it isn’t working then don’t focus on that right now.

Your eyes dart to Oikawa’s quivering body again. “I don’t know how to pull someone out of a panic attack.”

“The goal is to ground him. So use physical touch, make him feel something with texture, and get him to talk,” he responds instantly. Mechanically. Like he’s all-too-familiar with this set of instructions. A heaviness grows in the pit of your stomach when you realise what that means for Oikawa. And yet, from that very dread sprouts strength.

Slowly, you tread over to Oikawa and place a hand on his arm. His muscles tense under your touch but when you murmur over and over that it’s “Y/N, your girlfriend, the most annoying girl in Miyagi”, his fingers loosen ever-so-slightly from the metal basin. He lets you lead him to the bench by the door. He lets you drape the Seijoh banner over his shoulders like it’s armour and wrap your arms around his waist. He lets you press your cheek to his sweat-drenched back.

Get him to talk.

“Remember that quote you showed me from that interview of yours? What was it again?” you question softly.

No response.

“If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks,” you say into his ear.

Through the mirror, you see his eyes widen with recognition. In the brief moment of lucidity that washes over Oikawa’s glistening face, you repeat the original question again, followed by his own quote.

Again and again.

And Oikawa finally says back.

“If you’re going to hit it, hit it until it breaks.” Focus re-enters his gaze. He blinks as if just waking from a spell.

“That’s right,” you say as firmly as possible. “So don’t you dare break first, Tooru.”

An unreadable blend of emotions scrawls itself over his features. While Oikawa washes his face with cold water, you remember rumination and resolve but can’t decipher the rest, giving up anyway when Iwaizumi pushes open the bathroom door. When the light washes over Oikawa, his face shows no signs of the episode he just had. It’s just like how the sky moves on after a storm, how the sun beams to say, “I’m here now. The rain has gone.”

But sometimes it still rains in spite of the sun.

A sunshower. It sounds so beautiful. But it’s wonderfully sad.

The three of you wordlessly make your way to the court where the rest of Seijoh is likely getting ready to warm up. What are you supposed to say after that? What can you say?

Once the smell of air salonpas and sweat finally greets your nose, Oikawa slips the Seijoh banner off his back and hands it over to you. Guessing that’s your cue to leave, you tell him to play well like you always do before starting to head for the upper deck. Softly, Oikawa asks you to wait.

“Stay for warm-ups,” he adds. “Please.”

From your spot behind the Seijoh divider, you carefully watch for any signs of another breakdown. To your relief, he goes the entire half-hour without a single crack in his disposition, exchanging laidback grins with the team, bantering with Iwaizumi. At one point he even has the audacity to taunt the Karasuno setter Tobio-chan, as Oikawa often says with a sneer.

Sunshowers, Y/N. Sunshowers.

Just before the referees call for the teams to line up at their ends of the court, Oikawa jogs over to you, eyes folding into thin crescents when he smiles.

He pulls the Seijoh banner out from your hands and gingerly cloaks it around your shoulders. Oikawa presses a quick kiss to your lips and murmurs, “Thank you.” Something in face tells you that it’s supposed to mean more than gratitude. Before you can read more into it, he turns back around and jogs to the line where his team awaits. Oikawa grins ferally.

Knowing that your luminous eyes are fixed to his back like his own set of wings, the monster crows on the other side suddenly look more like humans.

vi.

Oikawa isn’t surprised that his text is still unopened. At twenty-seven years old, he’s had his fair share of dead-ends when it comes to love. But he hadn’t expected radio silence from you of all people.

After closing all the tabs of Team Japan’s latest matches, he powers off his laptop and checks his phone again to reread what he wrote to your old number one last time. Still nothing. It’s highly probable you’ve changed phone numbers at least once in the last nine years, but the disappointment’s still there after he powers his phone off for the night. Tomorrow’s a big day and he’s not the same victim of self-destruction he had been in high school.

Or so he thinks, realising that texting the last person he loved the night before the 2021 Olympics volleyball finals might have been slightly irresponsible on his part. A thought arises in his head, though he quickly quashes it. Asking Iwaizumi to pass the message along would be a little overboard, wouldn’t it? Oikawa chuckles, imagining he response he’d get from his best friend (and Team Japan’s team trainer, that traitor).

“Go the fuck to sleep or I’ll put you to sleep, you dumbass simp,” he hears in Iwaizumi’s gruff voice.

He convinces himself that you’ll be there like you’ve always been. After all, he’s spent a lifetime with your pair of watchful eyes on his back. Satisfied, he drifts into a dreamless sleep.

The volume in the Ariake Arena is astronomical. Blood pounds against his ears as he sets the ball in the air, a monstrous grin carving into his face when his teammate José spikes the set straight down the net, drawing a wave of oohs and aahs from spectators on both sides.

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at the flashy Team Argentina setter and finishes taping up Ushijima’s arm.

Oikawa turns haughtily towards the opposite team, gaze zeroing in on Team Japan’s raven-haired setter and the shrimpy ginger beside him. It’s been a while since he last saw them this close in person–– the chance encounter with Hinata in Brazil happened well over three years ago and he hadn’t had the time earlier in the tournament to say hello. Of course they’re the final boss in this arc, he muses, though the thought is void of vexation. Instead, begrudging pride blossoms in his chest. Truthfully, he had expected nothing less from his kouhai.

And he expects nothing less than finally tasting the ambrosia of victory against that monster–– no, an entire generation of monsters–– today. Monsters who happen to be the kids he grew up beside.

He wonders what you’d say at the sight of Japan’s greatest players all gathered on one court. On instinct, his eyes dive into the bleachers, searching for your face. Knowing he’s not likely to find you like this, he tsks, deciding to look for Iwaizumi instead. Maybe he knows where you are.

The referees signal for both teams to line up at their ends of the court. As he steps onto the white boundary line, he notices Iwaizumi’s gaze transfixed on someone in the upper deck on Team Argentina’s side. The neutral expression on his face morphs into shock, then recognition. And then he glances at Oikawa.

The latter’s brows furrow before everything clicks in place.

Who else…

All your memories together hit him at full force–– your face shimmering with tears in front of gate twelve in Haneda Airport, the feeling of your shallow breaths against his neck, the savvy lilt to your voice as you speak.

… if not her?

For the first time in his life, Oikawa Tooru looks behind his shoulder.

And there you are, leaning against the railing with the old Seijoh flag draped over your shoulders, a tender, splendid smile on your lips.

“Play well,” you mouth.

And Oikawa feels the sun rise back into his hands.

[seasonal-spuffy]

LIVEJOURNAL FOR SCOOBIES #5: HOW TO POST AN ENTRY (TO SEASONAL_SPUFFY)

Join me on a new voyage of the mind as I make 2 mock posts for the LiveJournal community seasonal-spuffy, taking screenshots all the way.

This post might be of use to people who want to know how to make LiveJournal posts in general, but most of the specifics will be Seasonal Spuffy guidelines. If you’re only interested in Seasonal Spuffy guidelines, try the community profile.

Note: the LiveJournal version of this post might be easier to read. https://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/631381.html

STEP 0: Things to do before posting to Seasonal Spuffy

Create a LiveJournal account (sometimes, we’ve allowed participation elsewhere, but the Fall 2018 round only happens on LiveJournal);

join the community (currently optional, but makes posting easier);

(optional!) sign up for a posting day;

or wait for the free-for-all days: Nov. 22&25, Dec. 1&2 for Fall 2018;

create a new Spuffy work of almost any kind (detailed guidelines here).

STEP 1: Open the post editor

Click “Post to Community” or a pencil icon at the top of the recent entries page of the comm, or click “Post New Entry” in the top right corner of any LJ page.

There are currently 2 post editors.

The new post editor may look like home if you’re used to tumblr. It looks like in screenshots 27-28, and it produces posts that are formatted like this. If you start in the new post editor and change your mind, click "Switch to old version" at the bottom of the page. Your post-in-progress will open in the legacy editor. You cannot switch back with the same post.

The legacy editor has 2 modes - visual editor and HTML. You can switch between them freely, using tabs at the top of the area where you write your post. In the mobile version of the site, you only get the HTML editor. Compared to the new post editor, the legacy editor gives you much more control over formatting, and it lets you preview the entry before you post.

Most of the screenshots in this tutorial post are from the legacy editor.

STEP 2: Select the community

See screenshot 18. If the community isn’t set, click “To Community” above the subject line of your entry-in-progress and select seasonal_spuffy.

STEP 3: Write a title (”subject”)

Ideally, the title describes your entry. Here are three good examples:

Four Banners

Icons: Night & Day

Fic: Buffy and the Bloodmobile (2 of 4)

However, any entry title you like is fine as long as the entry has a header.

STEP 4: Fill in the header (the version for fic)

If you're posting fic, please fill out this header at the top of your post: Title: Author: Era/season/setting: Rating: See screenshot 20. For "title" and "author", please give us the info that you’d like us to use when we link to your entry.

You might need to add another header line for warnings:

if your entry includes Spike/Other or Buffy/Other pairings;

if your entry is explicit/ not safe for work.

You can continue the header if you want, e.g. add a line for "Author's Note".

STEP 4: Fill in the header (the version for art etc.)

If you’re posting art or other work, the basic header is only 2 lines: Title: Creator:

We will use this title and name when we link to your entry. 

You might need to add another header line for warnings:

if your entry includes Spike/Other or Buffy/Other pairings;

if your post is explicit/ not safe for work.

You can continue the header with other info if you want.

STEP 5: Insert your work (the version for fic)

The visual editor preserves formatting if you paste text into it. Sometimes, it keeps too much, like the font or the background color. If you want to find out whether this happened, scroll to the bottom of the page and PREVIEW. If there’s too much formatting and you feel like cleaning the post up, you have 2 options:

paste text without formatting instead (paste in the HTML editor, or right-click in the visual editor and Paste as Plain Text, or copy from Notepad),

or, after pasting into the visual editor, switch to the HTML editor and remove the formatting tags that you don’t want.

See screenshot 20 and 21 for an example.

STEP 5: Insert your work (the version for artwork)

See screenshot 22. After clicking the image icon in the toolbar, I dragged and dropped the image from my computer, set image size to 600 pixels, and put a checkmark in “Add a link to fullsize picture” so that people can click my image to view it in full size. I left the other settings as they are. Then, I clicked “Insert Pictures”.

The visual editor now shows an image in the entry, while the HTML editor shows some link code where I can insert descriptive alt text and hover text for the image if I like.

As an alternative to uploading, you can insert an image from various hosting sites by selecting “Paste URL” or one of the other options.

STEP 6 (optional): Add some end notes

If you like, you can add some notes below your work, like credit for images used. Screenshot 23 shows how to add a link.

STEP 7: Add a cut

Cuts are “read more” links that will hide parts of the entry when people see the entry in a feed. Cuts are a big deal on LiveJournal, and you should use them.

For Seasonal Spuffy, cuts are required for all stories, large graphics, and NSFW content. You can’t go wrong if you just “cut” everything except the header.

Unlike tumblr, where a “read more” link hides everything from that point onwards, LiveJournal cuts have both a beginning and an end.

To add a cut in the visual editor:

Highlight the part you want to hide.

Click the scissors icon "Insert Cut" in the toolbar (screenshot 24).

Change the "Read more" text if you like or just click Insert.

See if there are cut lines now: dotted lines with little scissor images (screenshot 25).

To add a cut in the HTML editor:

Add  before the part you need to cut and  after it,

OR highlight text and click the Insert Cut icon. This will add the cut code.

To add a cut in the new post editor:

Go to an empty new line at the start of the section you want to hide.

A toolbar should open (see screenshot 27). Click the scissors icon to add the start of the cut.

Then go to an empty line where the cut should end.

In the toolbar, click the scissors icon again to add the end of the cut.

STEP 8: Add tags

Please add these kinds of tags to your Seasonal Spuffy entry:

creator (creator: yourusername with your username)

form (form: banner/wallpaper/manip, form: fanmix, form: fic, form: icons, form: meta/recs, form: other art, form: poetry, form: vid)

era (era: ats s5, era: btvs s1,..., era: btvs s7, era: comics canon, era: indeterminate, era: post-series, era: pre-series)

rating (rating: nc-17, rating: other)

(optional) genre - for fic if applicable (genre: alternate reality, genre: amnesia, genre: baby/kid/parent fic, genre: crossover, genre: holiday, genre: post-apocalyptic, genre: shanshu!Spike, genre: time travel, genre: vamped character, genre: wishverse)

You don’t have to memorize these tags. If you type the first part of the tag, like “era”, the available options will show in a dropdown. See screenshot 25. You can also click “select” and see all the available tags for the community.

If you're posting for the first time, your creator tag might not be available yet. That's okay - we will add it later.

If tags bewilder you, it's okay to skip this step or skip some kinds of tags. The mods can clean the tags up for you. If there’s enough time, it’s also okay to ask for help. :) You can contact one of the mods, like thenewbuzwuzz or Rebcake, or email sspuffy@gmail.com, send us an ask here, etcetera.

STEP 9 (optional): Preview

Once you're done, it's a good idea to click the white button "Preview Entry" at the bottom of the post editor (see screenshot 26). This option is only available in the legacy editor. The preview will open in a new window, and you'll have to close it and return to the editor to finish posting your entry.

You can't see cuts when you preview a post, because they won’t be visible when your post is open. This is normal.

If you have time and you want to make absolutely sure everything is fine before making the real post, you could make a private test post on your journal. The option to make the entry private is under Security near the bottom of the window, and you’d have to edit the “Post” settings at the top to post to your journal. After that, if you see everything *is* fine, you can open that post for editing, go into the HTML editor, and copy everything for posting to the community.

STEP 10: Post

Double-check the text on the blue “post” button right before you post. The button caption should say “POST TO SEASONAL_SPUFFY”.

For Seasonal Spuffy entries, we don’t require you to do anything with the various settings that are available directly before posting. See screenshot 26 for an explanation of what some of them would do if you did use them.

If your entry is finished but it’s not yet your posting day/ not a free-for-all day, you can schedule the entry to be posted on the right day.

To schedule, use the setting "Date" at the top of the post editor.

Right after you schedule, LiveJournal will offer to view the post, and it will kind of look like it's already posted. If you go to the main page of the community, you should be able to see it's not there yet.

If we're between rounds and we've turned entry moderation on, you won't be able to schedule an entry. You can contact us (message a mod, e.g. thenewbuzwuzz, email sspuffy@gmail.com, or get in touch with us elsewhere), and we can change the setting. Currently, in November 2018, you can schedule.

STEP 11 (optional): Check and fix as needed

It’s a good idea to look at your entry in the recent entries page of the community, so that you can see if the cut worked.

To edit your entry if necessary, hover over its title in the recent entries page and select the pencil icon on the right, or click the title to open the entry, then select the pencil icon in the row of icons above the title. After editing, click the blue button "Save Entry" at the bottom of the page.

In case of urgent problems posting, message one of the mods, for example, thenewbuzwuzz or teragramm; or email sspuffy@gmail.com, or comment on one of the latest mod posts on LiveJournal.

If you have time and you prefer to figure things out on your own, try the LiveJournal FAQ.

See the community profile for more information on how the community works.

If you have other questions about the event or posting, please feel free to ask!

[pepperstrawberry]

Thoughts on the Ban...

For those that don’t follow the MTG side of things, this might not interest you as much: Long story short, some folks have been harassed, others have been banned because of it.

Now, I have been seeing the usual ‘they did nothing wrong’ posts here and on twitter. So I’m going to make things a touch more clear here:

Jeremy of MTGHeadquarters/unsleevedmedia/thequartering was hit with a perma-ban in all things Magic for harassment. This is very good news. For too long, his brand of garbage has been deeply rooted in just about every corner of really every fandom if we are honest. For Magic, this means LGS, Protour/grand prix, Twitch chats, Twitter, Amino, and here in our little corner of the net. He is one of many, but it’s a solid start. Wizards, as well as our community as a whole have put up with the garbage enough and it’s time for everyone to get with the program of ‘inclusivity’ or just get out. Getting a perma-ban is really the least that can happen to the sort of crass, garbage spewing, super negative, red-pill swallowing, alt-right/nazi sort that Jeremy is.

In short, good riddance.

As for Travis Woo. Even setting aside his ‘thought experiment’ about Hitler (please read as much sarcasm as you can into ‘thought experiment’), and even ignoring his racist slurs against Japanese people, and even accepting his word that he didn’t know what was going on in his little ‘Magic for Bad’ facebook group (which, seriously? You named it that, what did you freaking expect would happen?), there is an important fact that remains: He was creator and mod for that group, and as per his statements it was months ago the ‘First pick draft’ ladies thing happened. My dude? You are still responsible. You DO NOT turn of your alerts for a room you create/mod. That shows a lack of respect and an ignoring of responsibility. And on top of that, rather then deleting it, he just locked it.

Look, I get it in some cases, you are worried about these toxic people finding new homes... thing is, they will only learn (if ever) by being shunned for their actions. If every group does this, kicks out of or closes down ever room that these jerks are hanging out in, while informing them as to the why, even if they are thick, they are going to eventually start to think that maybe the problem is with them. Not all of them, mind, but more then you would expect would start to come around.

Some of these jerks are just brats that were never forced to grow up (ironic consider many of them think folks like us are the babies because we ‘can’t handle a few words’).

Leaving them to just fester without appropriate action can actually cause the issues to be come worse not better.

And the cherry on top was his active stating on twitter about ‘disavowing’ the actions of folks like Jeremy and his own facebook group. My dude, again: You DON’T GET THAT LUXURY. Your room, your responsibility. You accept responsibility, you accept the mistake you made, you make apologizes as appropriate, and you SHUT THE DANG THING DOWN. He did not do these things. Part of me feels like if it were just this one thing, that -maybe- a year ban is a bit much... But then you bring back in his history, and it almost doesn’t feel enough.

Be happy, Travis Woo, that you got just a year with option to appeal. Your history puts you into a precarious position

Four others tied to these issues were also banned for 4 months, but I have no further info on them, so not going to go on any longer on this part...

--------

Now, all this said: Things everyone should take from this:

1) “They are just words” is not a justification. “Just a joke” isn’t a defense. And “They did nothing wrong” is just a flat out lie. As far as Jeremy alone goes, even if you discount the tweets in the Professor’s video, there where long enough clips of Jeremy’s actual voice and statements that a clear case can be made. If you honestly still think he did nothing wrong, then there is literally no convincing you and no point in continuing any conversation.

2) Creating a place the like of “Magic for bad”, even as a joke, has large potential for harm. If it was meant to be satire, remember that satire is not an easy thing. Far too often, even well meaning satire can be used very easily for awful. A satire, poorly aimed/understood is no different from the real thing. A room like Magic for Bad should have either been sharply modded or never created in the first place.

What we need is more places of honesty and respect rather then more places of sarcasm and “satire”. Sarcasm and satire only work in small doses, and are even harder to create and spread on the net due mostly in part to who many social media platforms are text based. Sarcasm especially can get lost without the right tone behind it. A place of honesty and respect will build a stronger, healthier community then one based on jokes that are assumed everyone understood (and that is giving benefit of the doubt that said ‘jokes’ are not just being an asshole and using a BS defense)

3) Putting an emphasis here: We, as a community, on tumblr, twitter, at your lgs, on twitch, at protours and grand prix, need to respect and hold each other accountable. To raise the standard and to continue make the world around us that much more welcoming.

We are all human. We are all deserving of at least the most basic of respects. And Magic, as a game and a culture, is not the property of one aspect of this community, but for the whole.

IMPORTANT:

 If you feel the need to defend the named people above, or people like them; if you honestly think that the Prof’s vid didn’t have any evidence, if you think we are all ‘snowflakes’ or some garbage like that, and especially if you are some alt-right, red pill, nazi, unfollow me.

No, I’m not joking. I have zero time for you. This post is not a debate, it’s a statement of history and purpose going forward. We, as a community on tumblr and twitter, came together over the last week plus. Many of us declared a standard of respect and acceptance. We raised a banner around each other.

Tolerant of all but Intolerance.

A paradox, but one necessary for society to grow in a healthy, vibrant way. And Harassment is a form of intolerance. It’s someone saying ‘no, you don’t belong’. I’m sorry, no. People like Jeremy are like brats in a crib, crying that other kids are getting toys too. Stop being a brat. Share. Be welcoming or get out. That simple.

A cosplayer is doing something because of passion, because of love. A spike can even show compassion for a timmy/tammy White, Black, Yellow, Red, and any others, all are human And let love be love, let people be who they are, even if it doesn’t make sense to you.

It’s that simple, and it’s not hard.

[sandybrow2]

Henry’s

.bmc18-nav, .bmc18-nav--row, .bmc18-nav--item { display: block; font-family: sans-serif; line-height: 1em; } .bmc18-nav { margin-bottom: 1em; } .bmc18-banner--main { display: block; width: 100%; border-bottom: solid 0.25em #fff; } .bmc18-nav--item { text-align: center; padding: 0.5em; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; background-color: #ec3b9a; color: #fff; border-bottom: solid 0.25em #fff; transition-property: background-color; transition-duration: 0.2s; } .bmc18-nav--item:hover { background-color: #39b54a; color: #fff; } @media screen and (min-width: 480px) { .bmc18-nav { display: table; width: 100%; table-layout: fixed; } .bmc18-banner--main { /*border-bottom: solid 0.5em #fff;*/ } .bmc18-nav--row { display: table-row; } .bmc18-nav--item { display: table-cell; vertical-align: middle; border: solid 0.5em #fff; } .bmc18-nav--row > .bmc18-nav--item:first-child { border-left: 0; } .bmc18-nav--row > .bmc18-nav--item:last-child { border-right: 0; } }

Complete Listings Overview Learn More

Henry’s stores offer free classes on topics like vlogging and freezing motion (Photograph by Christie Vuong)

Gillian Stein started her journey to becoming CEO of Henry’s, her family business, when she was just six years old.

“One of my earliest memories of working in the store was spending Saturdays on the fourth floor of our building,” she says. “It was just a giant warehouse. I remember one time there was a misprint in a flyer, and I spent all day with my sister pulling flyers from the papers. We were covered head to toe in ink. When you grow up in a family business, you’re in it from birth!”

Henry’s—which was started in Toronto in 1909 by Stein’s great-grandfather—now has 30 locations and 400 employees across the country, but its continued success in a crowded market is due, in no small part, to an almost religious commitment to maintaining that local-store feel. Its employees may not be wandering around covered in ink, but they’re all passionate about the products they sell. That’s because there’s no one on the floor at any Henry’s who isn’t also a content creator themselves.

“They’re photographers, cinematographers, vloggers, YouTubers, Instagrammers . . . they’re part of the community they serve,” says Jeff Tate, Henry’s vice-president of marketing and e-commerce. “When you come into a [Henry’s] store, you’re going to talk to someone who’s probably going out to do their own shoot that weekend. They don’t want to just sell you gear—they want to help solve your particular creative problem.” Fostering personal, long-term connections with shoppers who share common interests is a point of pride.

“The way Henry’s looks at their customers is very different,” says Ryan Courson, store manager at Henry’s in Kitchener, Ont., and an equine photographer. “It’s not an environment where customers are numbers—[we don’t] just sell them whatever we can and move on to the next customer. It’s more about building relationships. The staff are all fellow photography and videography enthusiasts. There isn’t a staff member in the store who doesn’t have people come in and ask for them by name.”

One name every employee knows is Gillian’s. Stein meets regularly with staff from coast to coast in a program called Coffee with Company. Henry’s isn’t a one-store operation anymore—the company started expanding beyond its Toronto location in 1992—but Stein still wants to learn from the front-line workers, as if it were.

“It’s important to have a close relationship with employees,” she says. “I’ll ask them questions and tell them about things we’re thinking about. We’re always trying to get a better sense of what they see.”

Those eyes and ears on the ground have played a large part in Henry’s recent innovations. For one thing, “Canada’s greatest camera store” doesn’t actually think of itself as just a camera store—it’s a place for creators, especially digital ones who are making content for online consumption on an ever-expanding list of platforms, all of which come with their own particular gear challenges.

“That entry-level of the market where everybody needed a camera to take pictures on their vacation is gone,” says Tate, “but because of the internet, there are more content creators than ever before. Some people like watching gamers play video games on Twitch . . . well, great! Those gamers need a camera pointed at their face, and audio and lighting. If you’re a vlogger, you need something portable that picks up audio. We adapt to what people are making—this is the growth part of this industry.”

Henry’s product offerings have expanded to feed this booming customer base. Need a drone so you can film yourself from above skipping through a vineyard for your travel website? Done. Want a pretty backdrop for the picture of that lipstick you’re featuring on your blog this week? No problem. The company has sponsored several indie and influencer events and festivals, and is even catering to podcasters with a healthy selection of microphones and other audio tools. In some stores the area that used to feature printers is soon going to be devoted to this kind of equipment. The company is also working on a digital platform (details are hush-hush) that will help connect content creators with all the various services and people they need to help grow those side-hustle hobbies into main-hustle brands.

With this in mind, of course Henry’s has its own official in-house content creator, Gajan Tharmabalan, who spins the plates on all of the brand’s social media platforms. He makes content, of course, including how-to and product-review videos, but he also uses the channels to engage with Henry’s growing network of fans, and to promote the work of other photographers, filmmakers, You-Tubers and Instagrammers. This added focus on serving influencers means that Henry’s is not only nurturing customers who are much younger than the middle-aged male who, historically, is the camera-store client, but it is also attracting more women than ever. After all, female You-Tubers, vloggers and podcasters need gear, too.

“These new customers really didn’t have a home in terms of where to shop and get advice,” says Stein. “They all require unique solutions, and that’s really exciting for us.”

True to its roots, though, Henry’s is still a camera store, and it’s a place where you can actually touch and try the most expensive models on the market. At some key locations, including the Toronto store, there’s even a “shooting gallery,” where top-of-the-line equipment is rigged up for people to test. All stores offer free courses every week (Camera 101 is the most popular, but you can also sign up for bite-sized workshops on things like night photography or how to use freezing motion techniques).

The design of the stores has been changing, too, with an eye to becoming more welcoming to every type of customer. Gone are the intimidating, old-school L-shaped counters at the back of the store where a customer essentially had to walk the gauntlet of the entire shop before they could ask a question, and where all the product was under lock and key. The new Henry’s experience is airy and open, with an interactive wall playing videos or showing photography (something Tate calls “retail-tainment”), and the staff are roaming around, meeting their community, making sales and developing important career-long relationships with the content creators of the future.

a.bmc18-actionlink { display: block; text-align: center; padding: .8em; font-size: 1.2em; font-family: sans-serif; color: #fff; background-color: #EC3B9A; font-weight: 700; text-decoration: none; border-radius: 4px; transition-property: background-color; transition-duration: .2s } a.bmc18-actionlink:active, a.bmc18-actionlink:hover { background-color: #39b54a }

Even more of Canada’s Best Managed Companies » // API calls for recent posts to the 'best-managed-companies' tag. Grabs five of the given posts at random. NOTE: Post IDs are hard-coded below in `eligiblePosts` 'use strict'; var bodyClass = document.getElementsByTagName('body')[0].getAttribute('class'); var container = document.querySelector('#dynamicPosts'); // tag id for 'best-managed-companies' // var tagID = 351657; var postCount = 5; var exclude = parseInt(( bodyClass.indexOf('postid') >= 0 ? isolateID(bodyClass)[1] : 0)); var eligiblePosts = [1079843,1079845,1079849,1079851,1079853,1079855,1079857,1079859,1079861,1079863,1079865,1079867,1079869,1079873,1079875,1079877,1079879,1079881,1079885,1079887,1079889,1079891,1079893,1079895,1079897,1079899,1079901,1079903,1079905,1079907,1079909,1079911,1079913,1079915,1079917,1079919,1079921,1079925,1079923,1079927,1079929,1079931,1079933,1079935]; var chosenPosts = arrayRandomSubset(eligiblePosts, postCount, exclude); // subset of eligiblePosts, see function below var endpoint = 'http://www.canadianbusiness.com/wp-json/wp/v2/posts?'; endpoint += 'include=' + chosenPosts.join(','); endpoint += '&_embed'; fetch ( endpoint ) .then(function(response){ return response.json(); }) .then( function(data){ postsRender(data); }) .catch(function( err ){ console.log(err); }); function postsRender(data){ data.forEach(function(post){ // Define Post Elements // post container var thePost = document.createElement('div'); thePost.classList.add('row'); thePost.classList.add('bmc18-latest-post'); // visual holder var theVisual = document.createElement('div'); theVisual.classList.add('col-xs-12'); theVisual.classList.add('col-md-4'); // visual link var theImgLink = document.createElement('a'); theImgLink.setAttribute('href', post.link); theVisual.appendChild(theImgLink); // text holder var theText = document.createElement('div'); theText.classList.add('col-xs-12'); theText.classList.add('col-md-8'); theVisual.setAttribute('href', post.link); // the image var theImage = document.createElement('img'); theImage.setAttribute('src', post._embedded['wp:featuredmedia'][0].source_url); theImage.setAttribute('alt', post._embedded['wp:featuredmedia'][0].alt_text); theImgLink.appendChild(theImage); // the headline var theHed = document.createElement('h1'); theHed.innerHTML = '' + post.title.rendered + ''; theText.appendChild(theHed); // the dek var theDek = document.createElement('div'); theDek.innerHTML = post.excerpt.rendered; theText.appendChild(theDek); // the spacer var theDivider = document.createElement('hr'); //tack it all together thePost.appendChild(theVisual); thePost.appendChild(theText); container.appendChild(thePost); container.appendChild(theDivider); }); } // return the wordpress postID from the body class function isolateID( string ){ var pattern = /postid\-(\d+)?/; return string.match(pattern); } /** * From a given array, provide a subset * @param arr — the array from which to read the values * @param n — the number of results required * @param excl — a value to exclude from the results */ function arrayRandomSubset(arr, n, excl){ let out = []; // for the specified count, loop over the given array, select values randomly, and add them to the output array, but only if they aren’t already included. // NOTE: we temporarily increase the length of the loop to output an array of length n + 1. This is so that if there is an `excl` value provided for ( var i = 0; i < n + 1; i++ ){ // select a random position in the array let r = parseInt( Math.random() * arr.length ); // if the value at position `r` isn’t already in the output, add it if ( out.indexOf(arr[r]) < 0 ) { out.push(arr[r]); // if the value IS already in the output, decrement the loop to try again. } else { i--; } } // if the excluded value is not in the output, just trim to `n` results if ( out.indexOf(excl) < 0 ) { return out.splice(0, n); // if it IS in the output, remove it. } else { let e = out.splice(out.indexOf(excl), 1); return out; } }

The post Henry’s appeared first on Canadian Business - Your Source For Business News.

Are you looking for a Brain Injury Lawyer in The Greater Toronto Area?

Neinstein Personal Injury Lawyers is a leading Toronto injury law office. Our legal representatives feel it is their responsibility to help you to find the government and also health companies who can also assist you in your road to recuperation. 

Neinstein Injury Attorneys has actually handled major accident claims throughout Greater Ontario for more than Fifty years. Its locations of proficiency include medical, legal, and insurance coverage concerns associated with healthcare negligence, car injuries, disability claims, slip and falls, product legal responsibility, insurance coverage disputes, plus more.

Neinstein Personal Injury Lawyers

1200 Bay St Suite 700, Toronto, ON M5R 2A5, Canada

MJ96+X3 Toronto, Ontario, Canada

neinstein.com

+1 416-920-4242

Visit Neinstein Personal Injury Lawyers https://neinstein.ca/about-us/ Connect with on Linkedin Follow Neinstein Personal Injury Lawyers on Instagram

Contact Sonia Nijjar at Neinstein Personal Injury Lawyers

Read More

[torentialtribute]

Brighton boss Graham Potter relishing Premier League challenge after nomadic career

Graham Potter is preparing for his first season as manager of Premier League knowing that much of what he will not work.

If that seems to be saying something strange, it feels less so when the new Brighton head coach explains it.

Potter is only 44 and this is his first Premier League job. He spent most of his coaching career coaching students and working in Sweden .

But what is missing in top flight experience that he might make up for in the originality of thinking. To that end, when he followed a Masters in leadership and emotional intelligence almost 10 years ago, he came across a principle that underpins his work.

Graham Potter has a unique view of the game and prepares to tackle mistakes

The Brighton boss insists that his players don't play with being allowed to play fear in the Premier League

& # 39; Football is a foul game & # 39 ;, explains Po tter out. "You play 90 minutes and the score is only 1-0, so by definition you can see that things have not always worked well.

" But football tends towards a guilt and fear culture and I don't want that . I met boys in my medical and military education and they recognized that fear was not about making mistakes, it was about knowing they could come and responding positively to them if they did. That resonated for me. Fear means that you cannot be yourself.

& # 39; For example, errors would occur during surgery and how the surgeon would respond to that error would determine life and death.

& # 39; If anyone can tell me how I can eliminate football mistakes. I'm all ears. But my experience suggests that there will be bumps in the road. "

Potter and assistant head coach Billy Reid knows that the task ahead of him is a difficult task

Listening to a Potter talk was a reminder of a conversation with Eddie Howe a year earlier, and the Bournemouth manager explained that he much of his early career played very anxiously to make a mistake because of the reaction of his coaches and senior teammates.

"The last thing you want are frightened players," Potter nods. & # 39; I would not want to add to the external pressure that already exists in an environment as the Premier League. You want them to be confident enough to make their own decisions on the field within a certain reference.

"The culture that you mention with regard to Eddie was something that I experienced, yes. Listen, you can be relaxed. So there is a nice line.

& # 39; But fear can eat you and it prevents you from being on the field and that is not good. & # 39;

One of the most daunting moments of last season came after Brighton lost a one-sided FA Cup semi-final to Manchester City by the single goal. Manager Chris Hughton seemed satisfied that his team had not turned around and felt wrong.

The work of Hughton in Brighton – promotion and two years in the Premier League – was great so when he was fired at the end of the previous season, flavor it. But chairman Tony Bloom and technical director Dan Ashworth wanted a more progressive style of football. Potter was hired from Swansea to deliver it.

Last season, Potter Swansea managed and helped develop the will of Daniel James

& # 39; You have I recognize and respect the good work done here & # 39 ;, Potter emphasizes. & # 39; But like any coach, I will try to improve what happened last year. We will try to improve our offensive game while continuing the defensive work that has been so effective. & # 39;

Potter & # 39; s c.v. It is not conventional and that makes it interesting. A workday went back to teams such as Birmingham, Stoke, Southampton and West Brom, he stopped at the age of 30 and spent coaching time at universities in Hull and Leeds before joining Ostersunds FK of Sweden's fourth division in seven seasons to the Europa League brought. Last year was spent in Swansea, where the club finished 10th in the championship.

Is your appointment a risk to Brighton? "There are no certainties in this game, so I can't really answer that," he says. "I can only look at what I have done to get here. Since the age of 30 I have trained myself to try to improve.

"I have taken the next natural step every time and that mentality has brought me here and it is going to be exciting. Everything went well. But it's that time of year when no one has played a game yet, so everyone is happy, isn't it? & # 39;

Potter is not a natural leader. In his early days he found it difficult to stand in front of a group. Don I don't like the sound of my own voice & # 39 ;, he explains. "People assume it is natural for us. That's not it. & # 39;

But he has always had the courage to follow his instinct. While reading a tabloid newspaper as a player in Southampton, he felt that his mind was getting lazy. Soon, to the amusement of friends in the team bus, he had exchanged it for a book about American politics.

Likewise, he believes that the day he decided to retire was the most important of his career.

Potter led Swansea to 10th place and made the South Wales team pass-masters

[1945909]

& # 39; It was probably the most powerful moment of my life he said. I could have continued. But I could see where it went.

"I did not want to be the man who would fire someone because I did not apply myself correctly. Instead of the game kicking me out, I wanted to be proactive. I didn't have enough money to just sit in the bank, so I had to figure out what to do. Most players play as long as possible and then perhaps coach at that club.

I thought that that did not necessarily lead to better coaches, because it meant that everyone would continue to do what had always been done. I had to get out and develop in a different way. It could have been madness, but it worked out well. & # 39;

Ostersund is marketed by the Swedes and with good reason. Potter and his wife Rachel moved there with their 11-month-old son in 2010. Later, Rachel told her husband that she cried every day for weeks.

"The family is the hardest part of moving," says Potter. "You know you have to make it work, because that's why you are here. But what is your family at home when you are working? The club had fired the manager every year for years before there was pressure on me to succeed.

& # 39; The way to make it work was to do scouting through Sweden, but that meant I had to leave my wife home with an 11-month-old child when it is at least 25 outside.

Potter made a name for himself in Ostersunds, them of the fourth leading division to Europe

She made a few reconnaissance trips with me. I showed her the sights of northern Sweden on a Sunday afternoon and she was happy with those … trees. And more trees. & # 39;

Potter and Rachel had traveled to Ostersund a year earlier to discuss a job at the club's academy. With a population of around 50,000, it is the 22nd largest city in Sweden and the day they visited was a holiday. "Everyone had gone to the mountains, so it was like a ghost town," he laughs. "It felt a bit too much then. It was a northern Swedish summer day – around 10 degrees – and we just felt so far away from everything. & # 39;

Despite this, when the head coach's job came up 12 months later, Rachel agreed to leave and leave behind a Pilates company she had 10 years growing up.

Potter & # 39; s success was astonishing. He took the club through the divisions, won the Swedish Cup and debuted in the Europa League, where they defeated Arsenal 2-1 in London in 2018. His family's sacrifices were appreciated. Fans of Ostersunds held up a banner with the text & # 39; Thanks Rachel & # 39; during a competition and also wrote her a letter.

& # 39; We now look back and we both say that this was the best thing we have ever done professionally, & # 39; he says. "And it really was something we had to do. Regular football would not be interested in a coach who works in higher education. In the beginning it was tough, but actually worse when we came back. It was quite traumatic for the family to leave Ostersund.

While managing the Swedish side Potter took over the Arsenal from Arsene Wenger and won in London

& # 39; My oldest son was struggling. When you are eight, you miss your friends and you don't understand why we should be in Swansea and not back in Ostersund. Then he had just settled in Wales and found friends and now he had to move again. I hope he can forgive me. & # 39;

With Dad now a Premier League manager, life will be different for the Potter family. Born in Solihull, Potter seems to be a real, smart man. He is a bit different and we must embrace that and hope that the Premier League does not change him too much.

"I'm looking forward to the challenge and luckily I'm at a really good club," he says. "The people here are brilliant. The club has values. I also have a good family that I will listen to when things get a little crazy. I can use their support.

"I have been playing football since I was 17 years old. I know what the game is like and the Premier League is the next thing I suppose. I have experienced it a bit as a player, although it has escalated since those days. But I can only be myself. That is the most important. If that's not good enough or what people want, that's fine. I'll just try to be myself. & # 39;

Source link

[nofomoartworld]

Art F City: Documenta 14: Learning From Athens, Learning From Crisis

Marta Minujín and Pierre Bal-Blanc, “The Parthenon of Books,” 2016 – ongoing. Photo by Anastasia Tuazon.

You don’t need to go to Kassel, Germany to know that the world seems on shaky ground. But this year’s documenta exhibition, “Learning From Athens,” nails home that idea, nonetheless. That’s quite intentional, given that documenta 14 artistic director Adam Szymczyk, along with a team of more than a dozen curators, chose to stake out a markedly “political” point of view. Though the word “political” can refer to pretty much anything or nothing when it comes to curation, Szymczyk and team have carved out a specific focus: the local is the global. And right now, documenta envisions that the world is in need of being rebuilt entirely—from the ground up.

When national and international coalitions have been unable to prevent the dispersal and death of refugees, a major focus in both the Athens and Kassel editions of documenta, the crisis cannot be remedied by the powers that be. There must be alternatives, and as far as the curatorial through-line goes with documenta 14, those alternatives rely on finding strength in what we have around us. With this void in place, “everything is possible now.” That statement, both powerful and cliche, comes from a video shown in Norwegian artist Joar Nango’s collaborative installation “European Everything” (2017). The text-only video moves at a rapid-fire speed, spitting out bold-Arial font text telling how to reinvent the Norwegian “eskimo,” the indigenous Sami people, by poking fun at Eskimo-brand refrigerators. The video and installation, located in Kassel’s glass pavilion section, is one of the stronger, stranger, and sillier works in Kassel.

Given that this year’s documenta lacks much humor whatsoever, the comedy of refrigerators gives the breathing room necessary to imagine that hope still exists. Indeed, “European Everything” does portray a hopeful dystopia, however constructed out of scrap materials from Athens, built with traditional Norwegian hand-axes, strewn with furs, and covered in knick-knacks. Think Mad Max, but less murder; after all, the video describes how, without the need for electricity, “fridges will be dance floors.” That sounds like a fun party, maybe, but not a world I’d want to live in. Regardless, that world seems near on the horizon when artists like Nango feel compelled to prepare for a time when what once seemed solid (like the EU) might break apart. As you can tell, documenta 14 is about as much fun as waiting for the world to end.

That seriousness is by no means a jab at documenta; a year of dour art is much preferred to, say, last year’s Berlin Biennale, where sleek, post-internet works embraced the gloss and branding of international corporations. In 2017, seriousness of purpose has taken over passive compliance.

Additionally, that seriousness is in keeping with documenta’s reputation for dryly conceptual wall work. That’s not my favorite genre of art making, but thankfully those works tend be found inside the museums and exhibition halls, rather than on the streets, where performances, sculptures, and concerts will continue through the end of documenta in mid-September. At the very least, it’s a new turn for documenta, which deviates from the overbearing conceptualism of its last edition, directed by curator Carolyn Christov-Bakargiev. In the words of critic Roberta Smith, documenta 13 was an “incomprehensible, viewer-defying vastness,” that was “most effective as a disembodied state of mind.” Five years later, documenta 14 may be more targeted in purpose, but the disembodiment, in terms of imaginary projects rather than actual political action, continues. More on that in the commentary and images we’ve compiled below. (Corinna Kirsch)

Photos by Anastasia Tuazon.

Hans Haacke, “Wir (alle) sind das Volk—We (all) are the people,” 2003/2017. Here: located on the corner of a department building off of Friedrichsplatz. Note that above the building’s portico you can see Thomas Schütte’s little-people sculpture, “The Strangers,” (1992), permanently installed at documenta 9.

Hans Haacke, “Wir (alle) sind das Volk—We (all) are the people,” 2003/2017. Location: Wienerstrasse tram stop across from the Aral gas station.

Corinna Kirsch: Definitely one of the most noticeable public works at documenta: these rainbow signs are everywhere. The banners and posters show “We (all) are the people” in several different languages. That statement could be a slogan for documenta 14 itself, as so much of the work leans towards upending what it means to be a local, national, or global citizen. It’s an uplifting message to have on a bus stop; on the other hand, it might be a feel-good update to “We are the World,” the 1980s USA for Africa anthem. I sure hope not.

Of course, this is a work by Hans Haacke, whose works of institutional critique, among others, rarely feel straightforward or easy-to-place. They hide as much as they disclose. If there’s a way out of the feel-good-vibes, it’s with the “all” hidden inside the parentheses. Stuck, buried inside a parentheses, “all” is both an afterthought and interlude.

But I’m still conflicted about this work. It’s too open-ended.

Olu Oguibe, “Monument for Strangers and Refugees,” 2017. Location: Königsplatz. Photo by Corinna Kirsch.

Anastasia Tuazon: Haacke’s banners and posters seem to resonate with Olu Oguibe’s massive obelisk. With the phrase “I was a stranger and you took me in” inscribed in a glittery gold color on each of its four sides in English, German, Turkish and Arabic, it heralds a kind of utopian togetherness intended to speak to people of various backgrounds.

Corinna: I wonder if those are the most widely spoken languages in Germany? Regardless, they’re all languages you’re bound to hear or read at some point when you’re here.

This might sound obvious, but like any multicultural state or city, no such reality of “Germanness” or “Americanness” exists any longer. Berlin has nearly as many foreign-born residents as New York City, and as a whole, 10 million people living in Germany come from another country. And those are just the official numbers. This obelisk is a big finger shoved in the face of “Make America Great Again.”

Anastasia: “I was a stranger and you took me in” happens to be a well-known line from the New Testament—but I wasn’t aware of where that phrase came from until another documenta-goer mentioned that to me. It may be well-known, but to whom? Again, like the Haacke work, “Monument for Strangers and Refugees” invites questions of who precisely the “we” and “you” might refer to, or whether the words could ever function as truly open signifiers.

Hiwa K, “When We Were Exhaling Images,” 2017. Located exterior to documenta Halle.

Close-up of Hiwa K, “When We Were Exhaling Images,” 2017

Corinna: So these are micro-housing units that nobody except circular people can live in. But I guess you can hide in them fairly well.

Anastasia: It seems like a sort of pre-fab, post dystopian dwelling. The furniture and objects contained within the pipes don’t appear to be unique or personal to an individual, though the plants make the interiors a bit more inviting, though the plants make the interiors a bit more inviting. It’s kind of reminiscent of Andrea Zittel’s “Living Units,” which are self-contained structures equipped with items to meet the needs of their inhabitants—just much, much more austere. 

Regina José Galindo, “El objectivo [The objective],” 2017

Anastasia: It might be heavy-handed, but this performance-installation succeeded in making visitors, such as myself, uncomfortable. Galindo has built a stark white chamber within a room at Kassel’s Stadtmuseum, and each of its four corners has an assault rifle attached to it, facing the inside. Anyone who visits, and is willing, stands in front of a rifle and views Galindo through its viewing mechanism, which contains a green target. You can also pull the trigger, which does nothing. Some people immediately grabbed it, others hesitated, and how many pulled the trigger—and where they targeted the gun—I don’t know. She rotated her body at intervals, taking a turn facing each gun, and the whole time she had an absolutely affectless expression. According to documenta press materials, the work comments on how major weapons industries export their products to “conflict zones in the Americas” where they ultimately fulfill their function. But that doesn’t quite capture the emotional quality of the performance. When Galindo is not inside her white cube, anyone can come in the room to become the target. I suspect people might have some fun playing with it, which could be part of the intended concept, darkly enough.

Pope. L, “Whispering Campaign,” 2016 – present. Mobile sound performances and installations. Locations: Königstrasse and throughout Kassel.

Corinna: We tried so hard to find one particular location of this performance. We never did, but we tried so hard!

Anastasia: Many performances at documenta are not fixed in a specific location, making it sometimes hard to encounter them, like when we attempted to find Pope.L’s “Whispering Campaign” performance. It was happening somewhere on one of Kassel’s main roads between the rathaus (town hall) and a plaza, but we never saw the people with speakers we were told to look out for.

Corinna: Exactly. According to the official documenta map as well as documenta staff, we were told to look out for people who “may or may not” be carrying a speaker around their neck. We walked up and down the street, but nothing. Point is: don’t rely on the map to find a performance.

Irena Haiduk, “Spinal Discipline,” 2017. Location: Outside Neue Galerie.

Anastasia:  While we couldn’t find that Pope.L performance, we did run into Irena Haiduk’s “Spinal Discipline” shortly after, in which part of the artist’s so-called “army of beautiful women” march together with matching outfits and books by Proust balanced on their heads. Conceptually, I find this piece puzzling—others might find the Proust addition pretentious—but it was a visually arresting sight to come across.

Corinna: Yes, at documenta 14 you’re better off letting the performance come to you, not the other way around.

Guillermo Galindo performing “Sonic Borders 2,” 2017.

Galindo’s installation-cum-music-instrument,”Fluchtzieleuropahavarieschallkörper,” 2017.

Anastasia: Galindo, an experimental composer originally from Mexico City, filled the hall with this solo performance, a “sonic ritual” in which he played the strings of massive musical instruments made out of the remains of fiberglass boats. In the performance, bottles full of liquid, a wooden pipe, and a handheld rainbow fan were a few of the objects used to generate sound, and his synthesized vocals added to what struck me as a haunting lamentation on the perilous realities facing migrants. Curator Candice Hopkins writes that Galindo has been developing scores for documenta 14 (in both Athens and Kassel) to function as “odes for border crossers.” Even when he’s not performing, these scores find a material connection in his instruments-as-art-pieces on display in Kassel: they contain remnants from a boat wreckage near Lesbos in which dozens of Turkish refugees drowned.

Corinna: Truly, truly haunting and mesmerizing. By far, Galindo’s performance was the most packed I’d seen: the hall downstairs near where he played was standing-room only; those wishing for a more distant view from above, stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the stairwell to hear him play. His guttural utterances, strengthened by the sonic feedback could have been shaking the walls. You couldn’t make out all the words he screamed, whispered, and barked out, but that didn’t matter. This digital-analog cornucopia of human-animal sounds and repurposed instruments transformed him into an electronic shaman. An apt song for those who have perished at sea. But were “we,” the visitors to documenta Halle, the ones who needed to hear it most? Probably not, but I definitely needed some catharsis given that

  from Art F City http://ift.tt/2t4Lie2 via IFTTT