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:
So, @thejoanglebook and I were invited to Cartoon Network headquarters and given a tour of all the whole Steven Universe floor, meeting the animators, storyboard artists, and even the show’s creator, Rebecca Sugar herself!!! It was a FLIPPING DREAM COME TRUE! Major thanks to Makenzie Atwood for this opportunity!! If you wanna listen to the SU podcast I got to guest appear on, you can listen here: https://itunes.apple.com/us/podcast/the-steven-universe-podcast/id1261418557?mt=2&i=1000392240453
The library doesn’t actually pay, per se, but if he volunteers a given number of hours, it does give him vouchers for select items purchased at the campus shops – class supplies, food and other sundries. Icarus did the math and determined that the value of the vouchers was nearly as good as actual money, with the added benefit of the convenient location where he could stop by between classes easily and rack up hours for the week.
And it’s fairly peaceful work. Running the checkout desk; entering returned books into the computer; shelving books; light cleaning. And Icarus is free to do some of his own homework as well, as long as he gets the list of tasks done, while still earning credit for being there. Hard to complain about it.
He enjoys the tasks, and enjoys the hush of the narrow aisles, packed with books on either side, higher than his head. They have a good section on aviation: old and new books; practical and philosophical; aeronautical and astronautical. Icarus likes to sneak back to steal a few browse through them whenever he can.
Icarus is on his way back to the front counter with two books in hand, when he hears a yelp of surprise, two feet to his left, where there are a couple small steps leading up to the study carrels and tables.
I showed my coworker my blog who didn’t believe how many followers I had for a cat blog. He sent me a pic of his cat to feature on here- this is Felecia, everyone tell her how beautiful she is
@bitchycollectionfury-78be5e8b here ya go, thanks, this was fun to write ^-^ nice to write about people being dumber than you are to make yourself feel better
he was definitely not panicking, that was what he was not
doing, because Jesse McCree was one cool customer that could take
things as they came and laugh it off. He’d survived the foster care
system and his weird adopted father and his overly intense adopted
sister. He’d survived losing his damn arm, alright, and everything
that went down that made it necessary to bundle a young Jesse up and
whisk him away to the houses of strangers rather than leave him at
home. And by the end, he’d survived everyone that had thought they
could make judgment calls about him without even trying to get to
know him, every teacher that had shaken their head and decided some
idiots couldn’t be helped, every classmate that had turned their nose
up at his accent – a vestigial limb left over from a childhood in
the south – or his manner of dress or his sense of humour. After
all, it hadn’t been as bad as all that. He’d wound up with a great
family (he’d die for Gabe and Sombra), and plenty of friends. He’d
learnt to let people go. Some people just would never see past his
shaggy hair or his loud mouth or the cowboy hat he refused to “grow
out of”. Fuck ‘em, that’s what Jesse had learnt. Shrug your
shoulders, turn your back, and go find people that matter. There had
been a time when he couldn’t do that. There was a time when he’d
been living back with his birth family that every disappointed look
the teacher had sent him when he’d acted out in class had been like a
slap and every report card returned home had been… well, not just
like a slap. There’d
been a time when he’d hated everything about Gabriel Reyes, but
mostly the fact that he was forcing him to confront a brand new
school with people that stared and laughed and huddled among
themselves in the cliques they’d formed years back, no space for a
new, pushy, desperately loud kid.
things had changed. Then he’d made friends, real friends,
and found out what people could be like – what he
could be like. And suddenly the people turning their nose up didn’t
matter any more.
so that was why, as Jesse McCree sat in school library across from
Hanzo Shimada, he definitely was not
panicking at all.
if Hanzo Shimada was hot as sin, with long, dark hair cascading down
his back, the most intense eyes Jesse has ever seen, and holy
fuck those biceps.
guy did archery
Who the fuck did archery unless
they were preparing to run off in some goddamn fantasy movie? Jesse
had never even really given archery much thought as a thing people
did – it only really existed in historical documentaries and the
Olympics – but now when it was nearly thirty degrees outside and
Hanzo Shimada was sitting two feet away from him in a tank top, Jesse
was really, really
thinking about archery. And how it must take a lot of strength to
constantly be drawing and holding a tense bowstring if you wanted to
aim with any degree of accuracy. And how that sort of strength made
it look like your arms and shoulders had been carved from fucking
marble. Especially when one of said statuesque arms had a sleeve of
vibrant, blue tattoos running all the way down it. Jesse could get
lost in a bicep like that, with or without blue dragons staring back
at him, but the dragons definitely didn’t hurt.
thing was though, it wasn’t just that. Jesse had met hot kids before
that were out of his league and it generally didn’t really trouble
him. Whatever, laugh it off, move on. No, of course it had to be
more complicated than that. When Jesse had first entered this class
he’d wound his way through the filling seats until he’d found himself
sitting next to a boy whose name he would learn was Hanzo. Jesse had
then immediately had his smile met by a flat stare, and he’d figured,
oh well, here was an uninteresting asshole. A hot one, maybe, but an
asshole all the same. It hadn’t seemed important at the time because
he’d already turned to the person on his other side – a girl named
Angela who apparently wanted to be a doctor (or a researcher…?
Something like that, which involved more of the human body than Jesse
wanted to think aobut). She was friendly and laughed easily.
would have been so much easier if Hanzo had just stayed an asshole.
The guy was quiet, sure, but Jesse sat elbow-to-elbow with him three
times a week and he slowly began to realize that underneath the
prickly, don’t-look-at-me-don’t-speak-to-me aura the guy projected,
there was something far sweeter down there. The guy chuckled at
every single one of
the prof’s bad jokes and Dr Winston had a lot
of them, and they were always nonchalantly that most of the class
didn’t realize they’d happened… heck, Jesse usually didn’t realize
they’d happened until he heard a soft snort next to him.
yes, it was a snort.
Absolutely and completely undignified and it made Jesse stare at
Hanzo until he’d been glared back into submission by the man, who’d
seemed flustered that someone had heard him. How do you tell a guy
that may or may not hate your guts just for existed that you thought
his silly snort-laugh was cute? The answer was you did not do that
and focused back on your own notes if you value your life.)
for Hanzo’s notes, well, they were painfully neat and precise. But
amid the sharp ballpoint and careful diagrams, Hanzo Shimada
apparently had a habit of making snide details about the lessons in
the margins (Jesse knew this because it was a two hour long lecture
and sometimes watching your neighbour writes notes out of the corner
of your eye was better than trying to listen to a prof drone on at
the front of the class for another hour and a half). It made Jesse
start fantasizing about taking out his own pen and writing a little
comment in the corner of Hanzo’s page. Made him think about getting
into some sort of stupid note-passing conversation with him like they
were eight year olds rather than college kids. Made him think about
getting to have all those weird, witty little comments directed at
him, and then seeing where the conversation took them. (And,
occasionally, it made him think about continuing that conversation
out of class, possibly down towards a pub he knew for a chat and
maybe, oh just maybe, a date.)
however, did not dare try – to write the note, that is,
entertaining anything else would have been madness. Hanzo looked
like the sort of person that might try to tear your head off if you
messed up his notebooks.
just to top it all off, during their lecture breaks, Hanzo often got
calls from what Jesse could only assume was a brother. And, against
every expectation, Hanzo Shimada was sweet.
Well, still a bit of a deadpan asshole, but no one who’s a hundred
percent bad uses his ten minutes of free time to talk with his
brother every single day.
look at me, I am not
playing wing-man for you in a class I need to ace if I wanna keep my
GPA up,” Angela had said. Jesse had pouted at that – he hadn’t
even gotten a chance to ask her, had just glanced at her with maybe a
slightly-too-hopeful gleam in his eye during one of the breaks Hanzo
had left the room to talk with his brother.
then the fateful day of the class project had arrived. Winston had
told them just to group up with someone sitting beside them rather
than running piecemeal through the class. Jesse had, of course,
turned to Angela only to find she had turned around in her seat and
was quickly making plans to team up with a girl sitting behind them
Jesse had spun around, but everyone else was making groups with the
people to their left or right who they had been getting to know since
day one. With Angela breaking the system, that meant he had only one
person left sitting next to him.
Shimada was watching him with an unimpressed face and an eye brow
he mouthed at Angela.
welcome, mouthed Angela, the
so here Jesse was, sitting in the library with someone who presumably
hated his guts and thought he was – what, loud? Obnoxious? Lame? –
but who Jesse still pathetically, wistfully wanted to impress. Life,
sometimes, was enormous unfair. At this point Hanzo hadn’t even
given Jesse the time of day, he’d been sitting at one of the study
tables since before Jesse had arrived, nose an inch from his phone as
he texted someone. Presumably someone cooler than Jesse McCree.
wanted to groan. Or shove his pencil in his eye just so he could get
out of this project. Instead he mechanically started pulling out his
books and waited for Hanzo to be ready to start on the project with
Shimada: … WELL??
Little Brother: oy
give me a sec some of us are still in class and don’t want our phone
to be taken away again besides
i’m trying to tell zen about how i, the lowly highschooler, am
helping my university-bound brother pick up boys
Little Brother: too
wishes you luck by the way and says he has complete faith in you goes
to show which one of us knows you better eh? not him!
Hanzo scowled down at his phone before he gaze flickered briefly up
to the person who had sat across from him. He’d been painfully aware
of Jesse McCree since McCree had arrived in the library and pulled
back the chair with a scrape that had made the hairs on the back of
Hanzo’s neck stand on end. So far McCree had made no acknowledgment
that there was another person at this table, another person he was
going to be forced to work along side for the next two weeks.
didn’t know whether Zenyatta had faith in him or if Genji had just
been trying to wind him up, but Hanzo certainly did not have faith in
himself, not about this. He had never been good at… people.
He made, in Genji’s words, “seriously just the worst
first impressions. Like wow. So bad,” which just wasn’t fair
because when it came to a
professional setting, when it was about work or networking, he was
fine. He could move effortlessly through the crowds, introduce
himself, chat, plan, negotiate. He’d been dogging his father’s
footsteps since it had been decided he would one day take over the
family business and he was a devoted student. But as soon as it was
real people in real life Hanzo may as well be carved out of wood;
somehow he always managed to put his foot in his mouth. Which was
why he had fallen so low as to turn to his baby brother for advice,
because at least Genji, if nothing else could be said about him, was
good with people.
good with people, if you asked their father. Genji was a social
butterfly who wasn’t so much a butterfly as a housefly, flitting
about around everywhere and getting where at lot of people would
probably wish he wasn’t and really not caring who he chatted with or
what they thought about him.
Little Brother: look,
just don’t do the Hanzo Special and you should be fine
Little Brother: u
kno, your patented Grunt & Growl ™
do that and assume other people can actually understand you bc they
wanted to snap back that he did not grunt or growl,
thank you, he was a mature adult unlike Genji, but he found his
fingers hesitating on the keys. Frantically he scanned his memory to
figure out if he had grunted or growled at Jesse McCree.
help him he probably had. He had almost certainly stared stupidly at
glowed, though, and Hanzo wasn’t sure what to do with that. He spoke
so easily. All it had taken was one glance from McCree on the first
day of class for him to apparently decide that Hanzo was a lost
cause. Before Hanzo had managed to scrounge up a single coherent,
reasonable thing to say to the sunshine bright, smiling boy who’d sat
down next to him, said boy had turned his attentions to the much more
receptive form of Angela Ziegler, the girl sitting to his right.
was loud and raucous and ridiculous and he wore the stupidest hat
Hanzo had ever seen but god help him he wanted to see McCree smile at
him, rather than catch glimpse of it from the corner of his eye while
he laughed with someone else. He wanted to have McCree attention at
some point other than when he’d made a fool of himself with his ugly
laugh or by seeing McCree stare judgmentally at his notes.
Little Brother: at
the risk of sounding too much like a disney movie have you tried
just…. being yourself??? (this
was zen’s suggestion btw i’m personally pretty sure being someone
other than yourself would be a step in the right direction but you
never know maybe disney knows whats up)
thought about what McCree had looked like when they had been forced
to choose partners. He had wanted to be anywhere than with Hanzo.
The look he had shot Ziegler when she had found a different
partner… the helpless, defeated look when he had accepted that the
only person nearby not taken was Hanzo.
being himself was definitely not going to help him here.
mind I’ll figure it out
he was going to do was pretend that Jesse McCree was just some other
random student, keep his head down, get this project done with the
least amount of fuss, and move on to his next set of class next
semester and hopefully forget that McCree existed.
we get started?” he asked briskly, pocketing his phone and pulling
out his own book.
face was despondent and it sat like a stone in Hanzo’s gut. He would
rather be anywhere than here.