#sorry if this is more unintelligible than usual i was pretty distracted answering this HAHA but it’s such a good ask

[ducktracy]

Does it ever feel pressuring (no pun intended) to work on a show with such a legacy and history as SpongeBob?

VERY much so, but in a good way, if such a thing exists! one of our mantras on our little storyboard plussing team is “pressure makes diamonds” and it is a very applicable saying

when i first started, i was TEEEEERRRIFIED! i really felt like i had no idea what i was doing, and there have been so many times where i’ve turned in a section and genuinely thought “oh my god they’re gonna fire me for this it’s so bad.” working in animation is frazzling enough! but not only are we working on a cultural mecca, with not only the kids of today to entertain, impress and inspire, but to maintain the integrity of the series and entertain/impress/inspire the kids like us who grew up with the show, we are also working with literal animation legends and animation veterans!! it’s pretty surreal to be working on the same show as someone like Bob Camp, who’s been in the industry for 40+ years… and even more surreal when he says he’s a big fan of your work 😵‍💫‼️‼️‼️‼️

THANKFULLY, i’ve made a lot of strides in curbing some of my storyboarding stage fright. it used to be really bad when i started, like genuinely panic attack inducing! the constant patience and guidance and encouragement of my peers and consistent practice from these past three years have really allowed me to grow and blossom. now, when i feel a bit claustrophobic in remembering the pure scale of what we’re doing, i weaponize it for good!!

i think of how inspired and amazed and obsessed with SpongeBob i was as a kid. how it inspired me to draw, how i remember drawing along to episodes and commercial breaks. my brother and his wife are both elementary school teachers and routinely update me about how their kids are still crazy for SB (and they both brag about me to their kids heheh). i think of all the kids watching, all the kids realizing that getting to draw these characters and interact with them and live in their world is something you indeed can do, all the kids who religiously catch each new episode like i once did… it just fills me with so much confidence and hope and love, and that motivates me to deliver and do my best and try to do what i can to help make each episode be better and more fun than the last

SpongeBob is for everyone, obviously! that’s one of the great things i love about working on it: i get just as much enjoyment watching our finished episodes as our target audience. but i do bring up the kids particularly often because, at the end of the day, that is who we are doing it for and i also just can’t help but think back to how my SpongeBob obsessed self as a kid would have had her world rocked to know i’m doing what i’m doing. i want to give those kids, who i used to be and still essentially am, the same joy and spark and all consuming inspiration i felt and still do

there are definitely some days where the gravity of what we’re doing hits harder than others! some days are a lot more difficult than others. this is an absolute dream job, i’m not just saying that, i always fantasized about maybe one day being able to work my way up to working on SpongeBob and now it’s my first animation job—but it is very easy to get overwhelmed by just how big of a legacy we’re carrying on our shoulders! how many other mega talented people work on this show! there’s a lot to juggle. but we juggle it well. there is so much love and heart and care poured into this show. we do everything we can to maintain the integrity of the characters and the show’s core, and it just makes me love what i do all the more and makes me more determined to do it

TLDR: YES! but i’m much better off for it, because it reminds me of why we’re working so hard to begin with. we all want this show to be the best it can—to maintain its core 25 years later, but still have fun doing it. i mentioned this on Twitter, but when i met Bill Fagerbakke last month he was saying how cool it is that fans who grew up with the show are now able to work on it and i couldn’t agree more. it’s the greatest honor imaginable being able to carry such a monumental torch, and i hope i’m able to keep at it for a long, long time.

[partlycharlie-archive]

bright days & rough nights

chapter two: boo-boos and band-aids link to chapter one

summary: "Rough night?" Dan jumped a foot (well, maybe not a foot, but it’s the thought that counts) in the air, his elbow banging against the elevator wall. word count: 1,261 warnings: minor injuries, awkward bois!!! a/n: uhhh thanks again to @sparkle9280 for being the absolute love of my Life

read on ao3

“Rough night?”

Dan jumped a foot (well, maybe not a foot, but it’s the thought that counts) in the air, his elbow banging against the elevator wall.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” he whisper-yelled, and clutched his elbow to his chest.

“Shit - I mean - oh, whatever, are you okay?” Phil pushed himself up from the couch he was sitting on, rushing towards Dan.

“Woah… a curse. From Captain Language Lester himself? I feel honored, to be perfectly honest,” he said, poking along the outer edge of his elbow to see where it hurt the most.

“Haha. You're so funny.” Phil rolled his eyes at Dan’s antics and walked closer. “Seriously, though, are you okay?”

“Yeah -” he held his other hand up, snorting at himself, “- yeah, no, I’m fine. There’s probably gonna be a bruise tomorrow, but. That can’t really be helped unless you're, y’know Mister Phil Superhealing Lester.”

Phil laughed softly, his hand hovering over Dan’s elbow. “Can I -”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

They’d done this before - whenever Dan hurt himself (be it a burn on his hand or a stubbed toe), Phil usually wanted to check the injury. Dan used to find it weird, back when he and Phil were still getting used to each other, but at this point he had almost come to expect it.

It was still nice that Phil asked every time, though.

Phil grabbed his elbow and examined it, extending Dan’s arm to bring it into the light. Dan laughed, grinning at Phil’s antics. “All clear, Doc?”

Phil frowned, mock-solemn. “Well… I’m terribly sorry about the bad news, but it looks like this -” he squinted at the tiny cut on Dan’s arm, “this, um, major laceration, may prove to be fatal.”

Dan snorted before he could hold it back. “‘Major laceration’? C’mon Phil, you gotta do better than that at least.”

“Shut up. Major laceration, minor abrasion, whatever.” Phil waved his free hand in the air before his face dropped into a serious expression.

(Seriously, if that whole super serum thing hadn't worked out for him, Phil totally could've been an actor. He had the whole Mr. Rogers innocence front worked out, anyway.)

“Anyway,” he said, obviously trying to steer the conversation back to Dan's elbow.

“Right! Um.” Dan quickly schooled his face into something he hoped looked distressed. “Oh no! Whatever can we do, Doctor?”

Phil led him out of the elevator, gentle hand still stationary on his elbow. “We might have to operate,” he said with a heavy sigh.

Dan stopped their synchronized steps (when did that happen?) as he felt his face scrunch up. “Really, Phil? Surgery on a cut? You couldn’t at least try to make it realistic?”

“That’s Dr. Phil to you, young sir -”

Dan laughed suddenly at the ridiculous wink Phil sent his way. “Yeah, okay.”

“- and for that matter, yes! Band-aid surgery is a very important operation, and it would do you well to remember that.” Phil leveled a serious look in Dan’s direction. “Alright, well - come with me.”

Dan gave an incredulous look towards Phil's hand, index finger stretching out to him as if trying to beckon him closer, but eventually just decided to listen.

He couldn’t have gotten more than a couple of steps, though, before he walked into the living room and stopped straight (ha) in his tracks.

Holy shit.

What the fuck happened to the living room?

Christ, he could swear the place hadn’t looked like this since before he went sober. Vodka bottles littering the floor (and the couch, and the table), the TV still blaring Fox News (what?), bloodstains visible on the corner of the couch.

Dan scrubbed a hand down the side of his face.

This wasn’t Phil.

Who had done this?

“Dan?” The sound of Phil’s concerned voice snapped Dan out of his stunned reverie. “You okay?”

“Sorry!” he shouted back, not glancing away from the sight in front of him. “Got distracted by the TV - be right there!”

He spared one more (slightly disgusted, but come on - who could blame him?) glance, then started to walk towards where he thought he heard Phil’s voice come from. Tiny footprints lit up on the ground, perfectly placed for him to use as directions.

“Thanks, JARVIS,” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Hey, J?”

Possibly understanding Dan’s desire not to have Phil hear his ongoing conversation, JARVIS chose to flash the nearest wall blue as a sign of his attention.

Dan smiled briefly before continuing. “Order the standard replacements for the living room - couch, table, pillows numbers one and four - and call in crew 25-comma-6-6-3 for clean up.”

The words Of course, Sir flashed on the wall to his right, so close he could touch them if he wanted to, and he couldn’t help but smile again. “Thanks Jay-Jay,” he whispered to the air, and hurried into the bathroom.

---

“Ow ow ow ow!”

“You are such a baby,” Phil muttered, smiling fondly at Dan while he dabbed Neosporin on Dan's elbow.

“Listen. Usually I would just ignore this shit, it would go away and - and! It doesn’t hurt nearly as much.”

Phil’s forehead creased, and Dan resisted the urge to smooth out the wrinkles with a finger.

Or his mouth.

Whatever.

“Okay, number one, you do realize you split your elbow pretty much wide open, right?”

Dan grumbled unintelligibly.

“And two, Neosporin is God’s gift - straight from heaven! Don’t let me hear you dissing it again.” Phil waggled a stern finger in Dan’s direction.

Dan fought valiantly to stifle his laughter (not really), but a few chuckles escaped.

(Chuckles, swear to God! Not this “giggling” shit people try to say he does!)

“Aren’t you an atheist?”

“That,” Phil replied, his eyes wide, “is… not the issue here.”

Dan “mm-hmm”ed as loud and sarcastically as he could. Phil huffed out a laugh in response but didn’t bother to answer otherwise.

Phil stretched the bandaid over Dan’s elbow and hummed, satisfied. “There we go!” He bent over quickly and pressed a light kiss to the space where Dan's cut had been.

Everything stopped, and Dan's mind began to spin with possibilities as he stared, almost shell-shocked, at Phil's quickly widening eyes.

What the hell did that mean? Why did Phil kiss him? Did he mean to aim for Dan's mouth, but missed? No, that made no sense, why would he do that? Maybe he meant to examine it closer and then just bumped his lips against it?

Wait, he was talking. Shit.

“… SO sorry, oh my god, I swear I didn't mean to!”

Dan blinked a few times, then waved his hand through the air to cut off whatever Phil had been about to say. Another apology, probably, but that wasn't really important. “No, it's- it's okay. Um. It's fine, but. Why?”

“Oh!” Phil said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “My ma always used to do it when she patched me up, and then Buck did it too once we moved in together, so. I guess I must've just gotten in the habit after having it done to me for so long? I don't really remember ever actually doing that to someone, but I figure maybe I have and I just didn't notice.”

Dan sighed in response, but a fond smile threatened to spread across his face. “It's fine, honestly. I really didn’t need any of this, you know.”

“Well, duh,” he responded, rolling his eyes, “I already know that. Just let me indulge, will you?”

Indulge in what? Dan wondered, but he didn’t say anything.

He did that a lot.