Oh boy so whatever I’’m real late, here’s a story okay let’s do this here we go alright got some of these written let’s kick it off here goes.
Kaidan was staring up into the glaring lights, willing himself to get a
It was the first time he’d really gotten a good look at the waiting room of
John Shepard Hospital: usually, when his mom brought him in, his head hurt so
much he couldn’t make out much of anything. Nothing but the teal and purple
pattern of the carpet under his shoes.
Now his face hurt so much, he’d actually pay for a headache to come along
and take his mind off the searing pain in his lip. His mom was outside the
window, probably arguing with work about needing to come in an hour late because
of her son, again. Every time he was brought in with a migraine, it seemed the
urgent care waiting room was always packed—loud noises and crying kids and
talking, talking, talking.
But for now, it was dead. Just Kaidan and the news broadcast and all the
empty, uncomfortable chairs. Kaidan pushed the wad of tissues harder into his
face, winced at the bite of pain. He knew he should be grateful nobody was here
to see him like this. But. Oh well.
A boy walked in, about Kaidan’s age, but a little shorter, a lot scrappier.
“Go sit down in the waiting room,” said the woman towing him in. When she
took off her coat, it was obvious to Kaidan she was a nurse at the hospital. “You
keep pressing on that, and once I get your paperwork done I’ll take you back.”
The nurse hustled behind the desk, and the boy turned into the waiting room.
He was holding a wad of tissues too, pressed to his hairline. His eyes
immediately found Kaidan: bright blue, sizing him up.
He had an awkward gait, and he bee-lined through the waiting room and
tumbled down—almost perched—on the chair right next to Kaidan.
“Hi,” the boy said, winced when he jostled the clump of tissues pressed to
“Um, hi.” Kaidan didn’t look him in the face. Not his blue eyes or the dark
red clump of tissues. The kid had thin legs and broad shoulders, he was sitting
“Are you okay?” The boy asked more like he was hoping to hear a grizzly
story, but he still leaned forward and tried to catch his eye. Kaidan looked
out the window: his mom looked exhausted, still arguing. He sighed.
“I’m gonna be fine. I just need some stitches, probably,” he mumbled into
his own wad of bloody tissues, shrinking away just a little from the boy’s
“Yeah, me too. What’s your name?”
“What’s yours?” Kaidan fired back. The boy’s eyes got grim for a second.
“Shepard,” called the nurse from the in-patient desk. “You making friends or
you making me regret bringing you in?”
I’m no expert—I’m hearing and my understanding of American Sign Language is extremely limited—so please feel free to correct/add on to this! But I was just really struck by (and loved!) Elisa’s “F U” to Strickland in the above scene, which was featured at the end of the newly-released Red Band trailer for The Shape of Water.
Here, Elisa is literally signing “F” and “U” from the ASL alphabet, but what makes this so striking is that, by doing so, she’s not exactly speaking ASL—she’s fingerspelling English.
ASL is a completely separate language from spoken/written English, and fingerspelling is pretty much only used if there are no ASL equivalents for what needs to be conveyed, such as in the case of names. (In fact, when I was learning ASL, my teacher waited a while before teaching us the alphabet because she didn’t want us fingerspelling English instead of actually trying to sign!)
So the fact that Elisa uses fingerspelling here, when there are other ways in ASL to convey the idea of “fuck you,” says a lot. It says even more when you consider how she’s fingerspelling, since her fingerspelling here is not how a deaf person/someone who speaks ASL would typically fingerspell.
‘Cause fingerspelling? It’s fast. Extremely fast. Each letter flows smoothly into the next. When you fingerspell, it should be an incredibly fluid motion.
But here? That’s 110% not the case. Elisa is slow and measured. She holds out each letter nice and long. It’s the kinda way you’d fingerspell to someone learning ASL—and actually, my teacher would say to not even do that. If you slow down so much for them all the time, they’ll never be able to keep up with real ASL!
So, this scene? This scene with Elisa fingerspelling something that doesn’t need to be fingerspelled, in an incredible, deliberate, slower-than-college-WiFi pace? Well, Elisa is doing more than just dissing Strickland—she’s absolutely taunting him. She’s saying, “I’m speaking your language. I dare you to understand me.”
And she knows that he won’t. She’s speaking crystal clearly, no stuttering, no hesitance, no nothing, and Strickland can’t even be damned to attempt the basicASL alphabet because he would never, ever try to understand anything different from him.
And Elisa knows this and completely, totally rubs it in his bigoted face.
You’re sitting in the theatre. Everything is perfect. It’s accurate, it’s visually stunning, everyone is on point. It’s a perfect adaption. The title flies on screen.
Deep voice: Fullmetal Alchemist
Everyone in the theatre:(slightly different intonation) Fullmetal Alchemist.
Ravenclaws are very happy that their dormitory is in a tower. Most of the windows can be climbed out of and they pull themselves onto the roof. They don’t do it like the Gryffindors do, for bravery, but for solitude. There is an unspoken rule that if a Ravenclaw sees another Ravenclaw on the roof, they don’t talk. On the roof or afterwards. It’s a safe space. Sometimes it’s where Ravenclaws be the teenagers they are and smoke, while sometimes it’s a peaceful place to just read. If a Ravenclaw is sitting on the roof crying, any other Ravenclaw, friend or not, will go and sit on the roof with them until they calm down. And another unspoken rule is that if someone sat on the roof and cried more than twice in a week, they have to talk to someone about it, a friend, a professor, or Madam Pomfrey. This is what once led a third year Ravenclaw to march a first year Gryffindor, who had somehow made his way on the roof of Ravenclaw Tower, to Professor McGonagall. He thought he was in trouble, but became very confused when he was simply asked how he felt.
insp. by @eggplantgifs and feat. special guest appearance by Marie France Dubreuil and Patrice Lauzon
Lifts are essential elements in any Ice Dance program. They are used to enhance the character, music and choreography of the dance. They are graded on a level scale and awarded Grades of Execution (GOEs). Levels are awarded based on difficultly in the form of difficult positions, change of positions, entry and exit features, and number of rotations. Unlike pairs lifts, in Ice Dance the lifted partner cannot be supported over the head of the lifter so the lifts are identified by the position of the lifter and are split into two categories: