reel world

youtube

I finally cut a demo reel for my animation work from 2011-2016.

Oh mannnn, oh mannnnnnnn.

when Worick starts having the flashbacks in ch.2, it’s not of his father burning his eye…

IT’S OF NICOLAS TAKING HIS EYE OUT!!!!

AND. ANDDD!! At the end of the chapter…

NICO IS RUBBING THE HAND THAT TOOK HIS EYE OUT I CAN’T. I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE WTF.

AND THE CELEBREEEEE, THE UPPERS ARE VISIBLE, THAT FEELS LIKE PROOF THAT THAT INCIDENT WAS THE START OF HIS UPPER ADDICTION. OMG, OMGGGG.

SOMEONE. SOMEONE HELP ME. I CAN’T FEEL MY FACE.

youtube

Found this gem of a video on youtube today. Alliyah O’Hare’s reel @ worlds.

NOT MY VIDEO…but enjoy nonetheless. You’ll have to fullscreen this to see any of the dancers properly. 

anonymous asked:

Scenario where Mako (dispite his height :3) suffers a bout of virtigo and vomits in a playground fort after being pushed into climbing into it by the twins

ahh, poor baby!

  • so of course he’s going to play with the twins, because they’re not just asking, they’re begging him. and makoto is very weak to their puppy dog eyes.
  • he barely fits on the staircase leading up to the fort – none of this equipment is made for someone of his age of height, and definitely not for his size. he’s suffering BEFORE he even gets up there.
  • when he does get to the top, however, things go downhill – literally. makoto takes one look down and suddenly his entire world is reeling.
  • “onii-chan? hey, are you okay?”
  • he pitches forward, nearly falling off the equiptment, but manages to catch himself at the last minute. suddenly his stomach is roiling, and he can taste acid in his throat. he tries to inhale, but all that comes out is a clipped hiccup, followed by –
  • he winds up puking over the edge of the fort. looking down as he does so just makes him even dizzer, causing him to empty his stomach over and over until there’s nothing left.
  • he doesn’t realize until he’s finally done that ren and ran are trying not to cry. so now not only does makoto have to deal with a spinning head and still-roiling stomach, but two very freaked out siblings

lil-miss-banana  asked:

break me with some angsty locklyle because I'm a horrible person

NO YOU ARE A LOVELY PERSON DON’T SAY THAT (Also, a patient person, because this has taken eighty years to write, so thanks for putting up with that. Now, onto the show!

Anthony Lockwood is nothing, if not always in control.

Well, usually always in control.

Which is why he’s terrified out of his wits waking up from a disastrous nightmare, gasping for air like a drowning man, the echoes of the dream ringing like bells in his mind. Those moments are purely chaotic. He sits upright in his bed, hand pressed to his heaving chest, trying to return his breathing and the reeling world around him to normal.

He’s nowhere close to regaining control when the door to his room flies open. There’s Lucy, standing a safe distance away from him, saying his name, but not the usual one. The other one.

Anthony. And it’s buried in a flurry of other words, like just breathe and you’re going to be alright.

It takes some time, but his breathing slows. All around him, everything starts making sense again. Except for one thing: Lucy Carlyle sitting side-saddle on the edge of his bed. That doesn’t make much sense to him.

“What are you doing awake?” he croaks. His throat feels like he chugged acid, and the churning state of his stomach makes matters worse.

“Anthony, you were screaming bloody-murder,” explains Lucy. “I’d be surprised if George and the rest of the neighborhood aren’t awake too.” Anthony. There it is again.

“Nightmare,” is all he says. His hoarse voice cracks, and he coughs, which makes it even worse. Lucy frowns and gets up from her perch.

“I’ll get you some tea.”

When she comes back, Lucy hands him his tea. He nods gratefully and thanks her, the warmth seeping into his bloodstream.

There’s an awkward silence then that’s occupied by Lucy running her hands over the fleece blanket, avoiding eye contact while Lockwood sips his tea gingerly.

It’s nearly pitch-black in his room, the only light bleeding in from Lucy’s room. But even then, Lockwood can just faintly make out Lucy’s profile: the strong jaw, long nose, and perpetually-pouting mouth. Not pretty, but certainly interesting to look at. But that’s not the reason why his heart’s racing.

It has more to do with the fact that he’s still shaken by the nightmare than because the girl he’s loved for the last year or so is sitting on his bed, but still. There she is. Dauntless, clever, remarkable Lucy, who he knew he would never be able to shake from his bones the minute he pulled her back from the mouth of the well at Combe Carey. Anthony Lockwood knows nothing for certain about his future but one thing: if he dies at seventeen or at seventy, he will never be free of her.

And still. There she is. Sitting on his bed, fidgeting awkwardly in the dense silence. There she is, Lucy Joan Carlyle.

And he loves her.

“Well,” she begins, shattering the silence.“If you’re all set, Lockwood, I think I’ll go back to bed now. Need anything else?”

You.

But he can’t say that. Not now, not when everything is already so complicated with the Orpheus Society and all these mad conspiracies. No, saying that would make matters worse. Maybe. Would it?

Oh, damn it all to hell.

“Forgive me, Luce, if you find this forward, but, you. Would you stay?” His voice cracks again, and he clears his throat. “That is, only if you’d be comfortable doing that. Only then.”

He might as well have just thrown up his dinner all over the front of her dressing gown, by the way she doesn’t react. He can’t quite see her face, but he can feel her wide-eyed stare on him. Stunned silence makes the air buzz with tension. Has he gone too far? No, of course he has! He was a fool to ever let those words see the light of day.

Lockwood’s near-panicked thoughts screech to a halt as Lucy plucks the mug of tea from his hands and sets it on the nightstand. She gestures in a shooing motion at Lockwood.

“Budge over,” she says. “I need some room.”

He complies. It’s a bit awkward at first, but soon Lucy’s pressed into his side, face buried in his shoulder and hand resting on his racing heart. He places his hand on her waist and takes a deep breath. This, he concludes, is high on the list of the most reckless acts he’s ever committed.

They whisper good night to each other before sleep overcomes them, taking Lucy out before Lockwood, who spends a good period of time boring holes into the ceiling, thinking so much but so little at the same time. Then, finally, he falls asleep,  and when he does, he rests more soundly than he has in years.