Writting Prompt: Danny cries in his sleep, sometimes really loud. And screams. Once he even transform while sleeping. The problem is, he start to doing it when he fall asleep in class. Hope it's good enough to write
angst oh god what is with this phandom and angst okay here’s ur angst with a heavy dose of weird millennial humour because this bitch can’t angst without a metric fuck of comedy sprinkled all over the place
also I’m sick and wrote half of this in the middle of the night while feverish so like, I did my best
“OKAY THIS IS FINE.” Danny said aloud to the floor. He didn’t really intend the floor to be the recipient of his ire but it was where his face was currently planted so it would just have to ding darn diddly deal with it.
Danny had experienced his fair share of being stuck in awkward positions but this one had rivalled many of his top ten, and he hadn’t even been thrown across a room by a ghost to achieve it! Nope, he just fell out of bed.
One arm was flung out before him, the other awkwardly pulled behind his back, still twisted up in his bedsheets, along with his leg. Just the one leg, the other was hanging - in quite a remarkable display of inhuman dexterity - over his shoulder.
All it took was some gut wrenching, heart stopping, bile inducing nightmares. Nothing fancy really, just the visceral image of everyone he loved and cared about DYING from TOO MUCH FIRE right in front of his eyes as he watched helplessly. Yep.
“THIS IS FINE.” Danny said again, a little louder this time. The carpet smelled like feet, Danny decided maybe he should take his eating hole off the gross floor before he caught a foot fungus on his lip. He knew it was possible, it happened to Ricky Marsh once at camp.
Yeah Danny should REEEAAAALLY get his face off that carpet. Right now, yep. He was gonna get up at this very mome-
Jazz heard a loud snore come from Danny’s bedroom. He was supposed to be up half an hour ago, school started in ten minutes. But she knew he had a plate piled high with superhero shenanigans that kept him up at obnoxiously late hours nine nights out of ten. The bags under his eyes could hold all the homework he never got done, with extra space for his unfinished chores.
Jazz was fully prepared to sneak in and firmly tuck him into bed with ghost proof sheets, a lie, an excuse and at least three compromises balanced on her tongue ready to jump at any parent and/or teacher that wanted her brother out of the warm sanctuary of bed today. Then she heard his gentle snores twist into a devastatingly soul crushing little whimper.
Oh boy, that wasn’t good.
Jazz opened her brother’s bedroom door and quietly peered inside to find… no one. He wasn’t there. Typical ghost bullshi-
Jazz had almost closed the door when she heard it again, that tiny little whimper. Was he invisible? She thought to herself, barely acknowledging how fucking weird her life had gotten that that question came so naturally to her.
Jazz padded into the room and found that Danny had, somehow, managed to fall asleep on the floor beside his bed. One leg still hanging in the air via blanket sling, it was almost funny, until he screamed that is.
Jazz nearly jumped out of her spotty blue socks when a noise ripped out of her sleeping brother’s throat, a noise that honestly could have come from the cutting room floor of a horror flick that was deemed too terrifyingly violent to be shown on screens literally anywhere. His back was arched, his mouth wide, hands curled in on themselves, he almost looked as though he were convulsing.
It stopped suddenly, with a gasp and a jolt Danny woke. He didn’t shoot up or flail about, he just laid down on the floor, eyes blearily noticing that there was another person in the room. Jazz sat down by his side as he wiped his face, staring at the tears on his hands.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
Danny glared at her.
“Sorry, standard question.” Jazz mumbled as she unhooked his foot from the clinging bedsheets. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Danny, still laying on the floor, swung his right arm around, it had gone numb and tingly, the kind of numb and tingly that really hecking hurt when he started moving it again, yeesh.
“I had this really gnarly dream,” he started as he massaged his arm, Jazz listened intently. “I ordered a sandwich without mayo but when I bit into it there was mayo like, EVERYWHERE and-”
Jazz dropped a pillow on his face.
“That was rude.” Danny’s muffled voice grumbled.
“If you don’t want to talk about it you can just say so instead of being an asshole.” Jazz huffed as she found a pair of jeans and a shirt that were Clean Enough and threw them at the pillow. “You were crying and screaming, I was WORRIED.”
Danny pulled the pillow and clothes away and looked at his sister, actually looked her in the face. Her eyebrows were pulled tight and she was gnawing on her bottom lip, she really did look worried. Danny sat up and fished a somewhat pungent binder from under his bed, Pariah’s Oath he really needed to do his laundry.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” he stared down at his hands, face suspiciously neutral.
“Okay.” Jazz’s voice was gentle, she wasn’t going to push it, she’d learned a long time ago that it always just made things worse. “That’s okay, just know you can always talk to me, alright?”
Danny stood up and stretched, joints cracking and popping in a way that made Jazz want to barf. He could feel his arm again, thank the Ancients.
“You say that now, but every time a new rocket model comes out-”
“Bye Danny.” Jazz fucked off faster than Johnny’s shadow at dawn, absolutely Not wanting to stick around for another geeky space rant. Danny’s shit eating grin followed her out the door until it clicked shut, suddenly dropping back into the deadass tired face of a student who was entirely convinced that consistent sleep schedules were a myth.
He was not okay, ooooh he was so not okay.
Falling asleep again had been a mistake, a GRAVE mista- no okay, no, that pun was just inappropriate. He’d just had not one, but TWO disgustingly detailed nightmares about Literally Everyone dying, death puns were OFF the table right now.
Regular puns were still on the cards though, he thought to himself as he plopped his Little Pocket Book of Puns on top of a deck of cards sitting on his desk. He was proud of that one, in fact he snapchatted it, his smug face squeezed into the corner of the shot by the words ‘passng chem is off the cards bt my puns arnt’. It was easy to fool people with photos, he only had to pull off one good smile and people thought he was fine.
The flood of horrified snapchats he received in return made him giddy. Everything from a two minute video of Valerie trying not to hurl to a picture of Dash’s middle finger. Danny grinned, his grin looked genuine, it was not.
“This is fine.” he lied.
Danny barely made it through the door before the bell went off, he celebrated his victory with a very brief and offensively outdated dance move before Tucker threw a pen at his head and the teacher told him to sit down before he hurt himself.
Danny’s goofy grin remained plastered onto his face as he sat next to Tucker, who was giving him the kind of look that was usually reserved for the weird surrealist internet videos Nathan always tagged him in on Facebook.
“You are like…” Tucker started, fiddling with the broken nib of his stylus. “Super hyper today what the fu-”
“Language, Foley.” the homeroom teacher deadpanned from behind his book.
“Sorry sir! But seriously what the fuck dude.” Tucker continued at a still very perceptible volume. The teacher sighed heavily.
“It’s cool I’m fine I just got like two hours of sleep and drank five coffees in ten minutes I think I can hear colours.” Danny’s eye twitched.
Tucker didn’t laugh, Danny was trying to be funny but it was like, twelve year old funny. He sighed and lowered his voice.
“You’re having nightmares again aren’t you.” Tucker stared through Danny’s plastic grin with serious eyes. “We talked about this Danny, I told you to STOP faking this shit with me. You know what happens when you don’t get enough sleep, you get really fucking weird.”
“Did you get my snapchat this morning?” Danny asked as though he hadn’t heard a single word his best friend had just said.
“Yes, it was awful and I hate you.” The jab had no bite, Tucker couldn’t stand seeing Danny like this, it was like some awful parody of his friend amped up to eleven. He didn’t bother trying to talk sense into him, sense was gone, sense was out the window, sense was on the next plane to god damn Timbuktu.
Danny’s giddiness didn’t let up a single inch throughout their first couple of morning classes. He had stupid jokes and shitty puns hidden up every sleeve in the building, and the tiniest little thing would set him off giggling. Star smacked a fly with a ruler, Danny literally fell off his chair laughing.
Mr Lancer gave Tucker permission to drag Danny out into the hallway to calm down. Tucker grimaced in apology as he dragged along a snorting Danny by the sleeve, the rest of the class having a good laugh of their own.
“Do you think he’s like, actually on drugs or something?” Tucker heard Paulina whisper not even remotely quietly as they left the room.
The moment the classroom door had closed, Tucker slammed Danny against the wall.
“DUDE! GET. A. GRIP.” Tucker was not even in the general vicinity of fucking around right now. Danny needed to chill his tits before he got into serious trouble, the last thing he needed was a detention lumped on top of the pile of reasons Danny’s life was a train wreck.
Danny clenched his teeth, his eyes were wide, too wide. Then his mouth curled up and a laugh squeezed its way through taught lips. Oh no, not again. Not on Tucker’s watch. Before the next giggle fit could get into full swing Tucker had pulled out his drink bottle, uncapped it, and dumped the entirety of its contents on Danny’s stupid guffawing head.
A cough and a splutter later and Danny was sitting on the floor, the stupid grin officially washed from his face.
“Can we talk like actual human beings now?” Tucker asked, the plastic water bottle thudding emptily on the ground.
“I’m not an ‘actual human being’. So no. I can’t.” Danny’s voice was short and clipped, his expression stony.
Tucker slumped to the floor next to his best friend, ignoring the puddle he was half sitting in. They sat in silence for a bit, listening to Mr Lancer’s muffled voice droning on about adverbs or something. A squeak from someone’s shoe echoed down the empty hall. A fluorescent light flickered. Danny winced.
“You wanna borrow my earphones? I’ve got some chill tunes if you need to like, shut everything out for a bit.” Tucker held the tangled cords out to Danny who promptly stuck them in his ears and buried his face in his arms. It was all just, just too much right now.
He threw his hands over his ears when the bell rang, Tucker put a gentle arm around his shoulder.
“C'mon, it’s about to get really loud out here.” he said quietly, taking Danny by the arm and leading him to their next class. It was history, they were watching a movie. Perfect. Tucker rolled up his jacket and put it on the desk in front of Danny.
“Try and sleep a bit, if you can. You can copy my notes later.”
Tucker was a good friend.
Danny put his head down, Tucker’s chill playlist still thrumming softly in his ears. He didn’t want to sleep, he didn’t want to see everyone die again, but his eyes could barely stay open. He read somewhere online that just laying down and resting was still good for you, even if he didn’t sleep he could still get some energy back at least, maybe.
He was out like a light the moment his head hit Tucker’s jacket.
The dream was never the same. Every time it started as just a regular weird ass dream, he was at the Nasty Burger, but he was sitting at his kitchen table. His friends were there, so was some guy he’d never met, they were talking about monster trucks or… something. The guy he didn’t know was showing him a song he wrote, it was gentle and calm, Danny liked it.
That was when the Guys in White showed up. They’d been there before, but not every time. Danny remembered the last dream he had, vaguely, he didn’t know he was dreaming now, but he knew what was going to happen next.
“RUN!” he tried to scream, but his voice came out strangled and quiet. Sam and Tucker kept chatting, they couldn’t see the danger, the strange guy started playing a different song, he had an acoustic guitar now and was on a stage that wasn’t there before.
The Guys in White aimed their ectoguns, knocking off shots around the entire Nasty Burger, Valerie collapsed behind the counter, had she always been there? Jazz was next, she was reading a book on the lounge that had definitely been there the whole time. Danny kept trying to scream, but his throat just couldn’t make anything more than a strangled rasping noise.
Sam and Tucker collapsed before him, the music changed again, the guy on the stage had a smoking hole in his chest, he was playing a cello now. The music was calm, soft and gentle, it hadn’t stopped during the shooting. The GIW agent at the head of the group turned to Danny, face splitting into an evil grin, flaming hair licking at his temples, it wasn’t a GIW agent any more. It had never been a GIW agent.
Danny tried to transform, he needed to save them, they were dead but he NEEDED to save them, if he could go ghost, if he could change he could fix this. His core felt so far away, the cold chill within him just JUST out of his grasp. Why couldn’t he change? WHY COULDN’T HE CHANGE?
Tucker sat at his desk in the dark classroom, taking halfassed notes about… something something president Washington. Hadn’t they already covered this? A flash at the edge of his vision pulled his tired gaze over to the sleeping mess beside him. Danny made a noise, a whimper? It sounded like he was trying to say something.
“Ru… ru-” Danny muttered, voice broken and, oh god he sounded so terrified.
Tucker’s heart splintered into tiny little pieces, and those tiny pieces shattered until his heart was basically just a pile of powder, really sad and devastated powder. Concentrated melancholy, in powder form. He nudged Danny.
“Danny, Danny wake up. Dude you’re talking in your sleep, WAKE UP.” Tucker was super worried, like beyond overprotective mother worried, if Danny said something incriminating in his sleep, if he said something about PHANTOM-
“Gotta… go-” a strand of silver began to creep through Danny’s dark hair.
Tucker shook Danny as violently as he subtly could, he needed to wake up. He needed to wake the fuck up right the fuck right NOW. FUCK. It was panic time, shit was getting dangerously identity revealing up in here and Tucker had to do something about it.
More silver was weaving through Danny’s hair, flickers of a dark, skin tight costume appearing for only the briefest of anxiety inducing moments. They were sitting in the back corner of the room, no one had noticed that anything was wrong yet, but someone would. Someone would notice SOON if Tucker couldn’t get Danny to wAKE THE HECKING FUCK HELL UP.
“Danny I swear to god if you don’t wake up I’m going to kill the rest of you. WAKE. UP.” How was Tucker supposed to wake him up without drawing attention to- oh good lordy fucK HIS HAIR.
Tucker pulled Danny’s hood over his head as quickly as he could nearly half a second after a flash of white overtook his entire scalp. Had anyone noticed?? Tucker glanced around the room, nobody was looking, thank christ Wes wasn’t in this class.
Tucker tucked the white strands into the hood as best he could manage before texting Sam as fast as his fingers would allow.
Sam was in the middle of copying some crap about photosynthesis that she already knew when she felt her phone buzz. It was from Tucker, and if his spelling was anything to go by, he was in trouble.
Sam got the gist.
Pretending she was about to vomit everywhere was an easy way out of the classroom, and from there it was just a quick run to the fire alarm. It wasn’t the first time Sam had pulled off a fake emergency, she smashed the glass and hit the button with no hesitation, fuck the consequences. From there she just had to figure out where Danny and Tucker were, they all had copies of each other’s classes in case of just such emergencies.
History, they had history. She knew which room that was.
Sam took off running, boots thundering through the crowds of students filtering out of their classrooms. Sam could barely hear the alarm over the sound of her heart beat thudding in her ears, she didn’t have time to panic and worry, something was wrong and the most important thing right now was finding out what it was and if her friends were okay.
Someone noticed her through the crowd though. As she smashed through a group of kids coming out of a maths class, one guy caught her gaze, one guy decided to follow. Jesus shit she did NOT have the time for this.
Sam detoured down a seperate hallway, the tall redhead on her tail easily keeping pace, why couldn’t he just mind his own god damn business for once and, you know what? Sam thought, FUCK IT.
Another detour into an empty classroom and she had him. Bursting through the door after her, Wes looked around fervently, expecting to find Danny in some kind of juicy compromising situation. What he got was a surprise boot to the gut and he hit the deck like a sack of bricks.
Sam didn’t waste a second before bolting from the room, Wes had already taken up enough of her precious time.
Wes coughed and wheezed and tried to drag a breath into his aching abdomen, she’d clocked him a damn heavy blow and his body was not cooperating until it had a good few moments to recover from Whatever The Fuck Just Happened.
Damn it he was so close!
“Alright everyone, out onto the parking lot, like we do literally every other week.” The history teacher droned, his voice dry. He didn’t even bother making sure everyone left the room before walking out himself, it was probably a ghost attack anyway. These things lost their sense of urgency after the last fifty billion times, the only reason he didn’t make everyone get back into their seats was for legal reasons and honestly, he could really use the smoke break.
Tucker made a show of getting up to leave, but once he and Danny were the only two left he immediately dropped his shit and whammo’d his fists down on Danny’s desk.
“WAKE UP!” He yelled as Sam slid haphazardly into the room, clocking her hip on the teacher’s desk as she failed to reign in her momentum. She struggled with her footing for a moment before catching herself and racing up to the back of the class.
“Is he okay? What’s happening??” she asked, breathlessly.
Tucker lifted the hood from Danny’s bright-ass silvery hair.
“He’s transforming in his sleep and I can’t get him to wake up.” Tucker rushed out in one breath before grabbing Danny by the shoulders. “WAKE. UP. WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!!!!” Tucker screamed while shaking him with about as much tenderness as an irate Skulker on illegal performance enhancing ghost drugs. Finally, it was enough.
Danny jolted roughly, spasmed almost, and opened his fluorescent green eyes. Sam and Tucker took a quick step back in case he lashed out, but he didn’t. Danny’s hands gripped at the table hard enough to leave gouges in the sharpie-graffiti stained surface as his breath came out laboured and rasping. Tears smeared across his cheeks and dripped from his nose and chin.
He blinked, hard, before finally raising his head from the desk, looking remarkably disoriented. He was still flickering in and out of ghost form, disappearing from view entirely a few times as well, but it was slowing down as he took a few deep, shuddering breaths. Soon enough he was calm enough to stick to one form, human fortunately.
Sam breathed out a sigh and sat heavily on the nearest chair. He was okay and god she needed to sit down and catch the breath she’d left behind in science class.
Tucker sat beside Danny - who was now vigorously rubbing at his face - and took back his earphones, Sam could hear something that sounded like a cello playing through the small speakers
Tucker got through maybe the first two syllables of the standard 'are you okay?’ when he was abruptly cut off by a mildly lisping giggle.
Wes stood half through the doorway, phone out and trained on Danny’s previously unstable form. He looked a little pale and seemed to be having trouble breathing but that didn’t stop a wide shit eating grin from stretching across his freckled cheeks.
“Gotcha.” he sneered before turning on his heel and fleeing in unbridled glee.
Sam had recovered quickly from her previous run, she was on him like the Box Ghost on a roll of bubble wrap. Tucker heard the pounding of two sets of feet followed by a loud THUD, a squeal, and then what sounded suspiciously like a phone being heavily stomped on by a very firmly placed boot. The groaning came after that, punctuated with some extremely foul language that may have been spluttered through a bleeding nose and/or lip.
Sam came back into the room with a crushed phone in one hand and bloody knuckles on the other. She wasn’t dicking around, not today.
“You okay Danny?” she asked, getting only a tired glare in response. “Sorry, standard question.”
Sam picked up Danny’s backpack and put her hand out for him to take, he grasped it gratefully and she pulled him up from his chair as Tucker wound an arm around his waist. With the support of the two actual greatest people in the whole damn world, Danny walked out of the school and into the parking lot where an exasperated principal Ishiyama was counting heads and calling names.
“Equal Rites! What were you three still doing inside? Get into your- Mr Fenton are you alright?” Mr Lancer’s angry stride softened into a quick jog, concern weaving it’s way through his face at the sight of Danny’s red eyes and wet cheeks.
“He uh, had a head on collision with Wes on our way out.” said Sam, like a liar. “Took a corner too fast and copped a hit to the nose so his eyes got all teary, but he’s okay.”
“Wes might need a little help though.” Tucker added on. “We offered but he’s pretty much convinced we just rammed him on purpose and he threatened to tell everyone we beat him up sooo we kinda just left him on the floor.”
Lancer rubbed at his brow, exasperated. He did NOT have the time for Wes shenanigans. He took a quick look at Danny’s face, checking for any bleeding, satisfied when he could find none he sent the three on their way to get their names marked off before he headed back to the school building to find Wes.
“Thanks.” Danny squeezed Sam and Tucker tenderly, never wanting to let them go. He was so glad they were here, he was so glad they were alive.
“Sleepover at my place tonight.” Tucker declared. “No exceptions, there’s gonna be cuddle piles and maybe a pillow fort, but definitely lots of these.” he gave Danny a big ol’ smooch on the forehead and pulled him in for a tight hug. “You’re gonna be fine man, you’ll be okay.”
Sam jumped on and threw her arms around both her boys, pressing her lips against Danny’s cheek.
“We’re not going anywhere, okay? We’re gonna sleep right beside you and tell those fucking nightmares to fuck right off, just like last time.” Sam gave him a hearty thump on the back that might have knocked over a regular human, but Danny barely shifted.
What in Ring and Crown’s name did he ever do to deserve these two.
That night after a coma inducing amount of junk food and soft drink Danny passed out smushed between Sam and Tuck in what was pretty much the most affectionate and down right adorable Danny Sandwich either of them had ever made.
He dreamed of the three of them beating the shit out of Dan with Fenton Anti-Creep Sticks. He hadn’t slept so well in years.
Days ago i hear about something so awful call it “Daddyofive” so far i know the boy Cody is now safe with his real mother and a real family, but i see the videos and man, i feel so powerless watching how the “dad” (If we can call him like that) tortures and make awful pranks to his kid and everybody make fun of that, i made this parody to portrait how the things was, the good side is how i said was the boy Cody is now ok and in a safe place, im so glad for that. For the parents specially Mike i hope you get punched in the streets.
The Project Runway Drinking Game: Brought to You by Red Robin
Let’s be real: Project Runway, a show that was once (unbelievably) critically respected for its devotion to high fashion and glamour, has devolved into a hot mess of a competition between increasingly bad designers competing in increasingly poorly conceived challenges that support what the show now truly is: an hour and a half platform to endlessly plug products of increasingly questionable quality. Between the Sally Beauty Studio, the Brother Sewing Room, the Aldo Accessory Wall, and the Mary Kay Color Design Studio, at this point the only part of the entire Project Runway studio that hasn’t been branded is the fucking fire escape, which will most likely be sponsored next season by the #4 highest selling fire escape company in the North East. Five seasons ago the producers even made the decision to take away pencils and papers from the designers (pencils and FUCKING paper) and make them sketch on *HP* tablets. It’s like sometime over the last ten years Mad Men jizzed all over this show, threw it a towel and the show decided not to use it.
The peak of this Blade Runner-esque advertising foolishness undoubtedly came last season when the designers were forced to make looks inspired by Red Robin and then speak in confessional interviews about what they think is ‘chic’ about Red Robin, most likely while a junior producer who still has integrity sat five feet away from them shaking their goddam head thinking “I owe NYU $200,000 for a degree that got me this fucking job?”
But in the rough of this unbelievable decline, there is a diamond - a big fabulous diamond that refuses to diminish in quality in any way: Tim Gunn. Possibly the only person or branded inanimate object on the show who/that is not phoning it in, after 10+ seasons Tim Gunn continues to tireless help and care about the most irritating, morally repugnant, talentless human beings when after five minutes of interacting with these contestants even Jesus would be like “kill yourself”. If Oprah and a pack of rainbow streamers had a baby, the result would be Tim Gunn. The challenges got worse. The judges got worse. The insults got worse. But Tim Gunn is and will always be amazing. Through everything, Tim Gunn is really, really what the show is about.
Regardless, Project Runway is still a god awful parody of the worst parts of competition reality television, an abomination that lacks any creative integrity that unfairly implicates the viewer and the only likeable personality involved in its production in the systematic commercial exploitation of everyone and everything on and in front of the screen.
We’re so fucking excited it’s back.
Recommended drink: start with a classy, name brand fine liqueur - then switch to lower and lower quality alcohol, naming each brand at each switch up. Drink responsibly, and make it work! Maybe!
One drink: every time a product and/or brand is unnecessarily mentioned (which is every time a product name is mentioned). Two drinks: no person capable of rational thought could ever conceivably find a link between this product/brand and fashion.
One drink: every voiceover of someone describing an amazing idea for a design while footage is shown of them sketching a design that looks nothing like this.
One drink: a designer says a seemingly innocuous comment about a fellow designer’s look and the receiving designer takes it as an insult and loses their shit. Two drinks: said designer asked for feedback in the first place.
One drink: a designer won’t give their extra fabric to another designer because “this is a competition”.
One drink: Tim Gunn is ‘concerned’ with a look. Two drinks: Tim Gunn is ‘deeply concerned’ with a look. Finish your drink: Tim Gunn is ‘enormously concerned’ with a look.
One drink: one designer telling another during the runway show that their work is good only because they are sitting next to/very to close to them, not because they really believe it.
One drink: every backstory that involves bullying.
One drink: every confessional shot of a contestant spewing platitudes about a brand that literally no one gives two fucks about and quite possibly have never heard of.
One drink: white judge likes ‘ethnic’ look.
One drink: ‘matronly’.
One drink: seriously tho what is Heidi wearing?
One drink: a plotline in the episode is that someone isn’t going to finish a design Two drinks: this person finishes their design - because every contestant always finishes a fucking design.
One drink: every team challenge where the two designers who hate each other most in the competition just happen to end up on the same team.
One drink: unnecessary German.
One drink: a fan favorite designer is not sent home despite clearly having the worst look.
One drink: the designers are not nearly given enough time to complete an extremely elaborate challenge because the producers won’t pay the minor costs involved in giving them more than one day to work.
One drink: Designers are utterly *shocked* when Tim lets them know about a ‘twist’ in the challenge, even though this has happened multiple times a season for the last 13 seasons. Two drinks: the twist is they have to make another look.
One drink: a contestant does not listen to Tim Gunn’s critique. Two drinks: this contestant gets sent home because they didn’t listen to Tim Gunn’s critique. Three drinks: this contestant voices no regrets about not listening to Tim Gunn’s critique in exit confessional.
One drink: there aren’t even three good designs put out in the episode and the judges have to pretend like one of the top three looks is good.
One drink: the contestant who has immunity puts out a sorry ass no design look that can’t even be called a hot mess because ‘hot mess’ implies effort was put into the design.
One drink: the guest judge has no relevant experience in the fashion industry and has no business even being part of something that’s as gaudy as this shit show.
One drink: a designer is asked for feedback from a peer when the peer has made an awful design and asked designer delivers most vague, brief word of compliment while not diverting eyes from their own work as to avoid having to look the other designer in the eyes while lying.
One drink: every time someone leaves the work room at the end of their one day challenge with practically nothing done then are somehow able to complete an entire look during the runway prep time despite this time being portrayed by the show as very minimal.
One drink: a designer barely uses ‘unconventional’ materials in the unconventional materials challenge even though short of committing an act of physical violence this is the surest way of getting sent home (and everybody knows it).
One drink: a winning designer from a previous season is brought in to give advice and you’re like “who da fuck?” despite having seen every season of Project Runway. Two drinks: when they’re introduced in flashbacks you’re like “Ooooh, right”. Three drinks: you then become anxious about your own life circumstances as you reflect on the sad reality that no one from this show no matter how talented they are seem go anywhere in life and that maybe you’ll end up like them.
One drink: a designer’s sexual orientation is made part of their backstory because SURPRISE they are a gay.
One drink: a designer complains about their fabric even though they picked it out themselves in one of New York’s best fabric stores with an incredibly wide variety of fabrics.
One drink: Tim Gunn will miss a sent-home designer ‘terribly’. Two drinks: Tim Gunn continues to speak volumes about this designer, raising the possibility of a ‘Tim Gunn Save’. Three drinks: Tim Gunn doesn’t use the ‘Tim Gunn Save’
One drink: the sent-home designer believes “this isn’t the last you’ll be hearing from” them. Two drinks: it’s the last we hear from them. You can go ahead and drink that now.
We hope you survived this one. Recommended Friday hangover cure: Red Robin - YUM!
Publicly Acknowledging Your Wrongdoings: The Kirbopher 2016 Edition
I met Chris Niosi over the internet in 2004. That is, as of 2016, twelve years ago for those who are counting. In 2005 I attended Otakon in Baltimore, Maryland, and got to meet Niosi in person, as well as abusive pedophile Bryon Beaubien, the living cupcake Christina Warren, and several others. Between 2004 and 2008 I had near-daily experiences with Chris Niosi through Skype calls that lasted hours upon hours. Many of our conversations are documented in the audio podcast ‘Wha-Chow’. Did you know that back in those days, you could only have around 4-5 people in a Skype call before the program wouldn’t allow any more to join? It was Chris Niosi, to my knowledge, who found out a way to hack an unlimited number of people in.
What I’m getting at is that I’ve known Kirbopher for a good long while, and I am well versed in Chris Niosi circa 2005-2010.
The Fallout Shelter forums were where I met a lot of people back then, and among the masses Kirbopher was a star. His original run of TOME was a huge hit on he site due to Kirb’s constant inclusion of well known forum goers as guest stars or voice actors. It was a good way to earn a following and I’ll admit, the pull was strong when you were 18 and first starting to make friends online as I was. I entered a fanart contest and had my character appear in a tournament. I got to voice one of the characters. All fun and games.
Then Fireball20xl happened. The Wha-Chows happened. And suddenly every day there was a Skype call with Kirb and I began to KNOW Kirb. I saw inside his life, his mind, and I began to understand.
The people that the ‘Kirb Defenders’ have been attacking and harassing have all been right, and all these victims and witnesses of character have a RIGHT to speak up and warn others, especially if it could bring closure. If I chime in I HOPE it makes a lick of difference but there’s a reason that the saying ‘Don’t Meet Your Heroes’ exists, kids. What you see of Chris Niosi online is the tip of the iceberg that he WANTS you to see. You are only privy to the 1% that Niosi has full control of.
You will never meet someone more self-absorbed and selfish as Chris Niosi.
It’s the long and short of it. The bagel story, the constant abuse he engaged in of various people, the horrifying petty and disgusting actions? That’s who Chris Niosi is. That’s the other 99%. A screamy, self absorbed ass who used his Aspergers as an excuse to act out while condemning those who also had autism. A jerkoff whose sole purpose in life is to get ahead.
Don’t get me wrong, with his PR stunts and his word warping he’s VERY good at putting on a mask for the public. He WAS Psyguy’s ‘best friend’ for the longest time, thus he was able to learn from the best. (Granted every day was spent with both Psy and Kirb shit talking each other to ME PERSONALLY, but I digress. The two of them fed off of each other for attention constantly). I remember he’d corner every guest star Psy had on Wha-Chow in order to coerce them into doing a voice he’d shoe-horn into his animations. Then Kirb would go and EDIT WIKIPEDIA ARTICLES to include HIS work on other people’s articles (Don’t think I didn’t notice you putting your name into JonTron’s Wiki page, Kirb. You little leech you). Each step Kirb takes is to step on one person to get into the spotlight of someone higher up.
Kirb has an interesting backstory where his education is concerned. Kirb entered college alongside four other young gentlemen, all of them going to college for art in one way or another. All of them graduated and one by one they all traveled out West save for Kirb who was the LAST to go because out of all of them, only ONE person had in no way improved despite many years of art college and that was Kirb. He went into it thinking that his style was perfect and he left, all on his parents dime, without having improved in the slightest.
(Oh, and I have to mention that it was on his parents dime because they DID pay for his tuition (along with everything else he’s ever wanted in life) during that time, because Kirb was asking people to help FUND his college efforts (the efforts he put no effort into). This spawned the joke in Spazzkid’s Street Fighter Chode of Kirb screaming “Pay for my college”.)
What is interesting is that these four gentlemen I spoke of all DESPISE Kirb. He’s been a black spot in their lives and a leech off their success and talents for god knows how long. One of them in particular found love in New York with a girl that Kirb was fancying and the two artists moved west and Kirb lost his damn MIND over this girl falling for his friend and rejecting him. When it came to Kirb and women, he would stop at nothing to invade every aspect of a girl’s life, stalking them and obsessing over them. I saw it with this girl, I saw it with Liz, and I saw it with tumblr user Audioerf who I remember would come into calls with complete strangers (such as me) just to hide from Kirb.
Despite these artists HATING Kirb’s guts they have always been lax on speaking out against him, as if KNOWING Kirb in person somehow gave them reason to clam up. Really, they have the bigger voices than most since they experienced Kirb’s nonsense firsthand for YEARS in college and beyond. It’s not like it would be a damning move in their animation industry to openly criticize someone like Kirb who already blacklists HIMSELF from every major studio thanks to how self centered he is. There’s very little talk I see going around about the Deviantart page dedicated to venting about Niosi’s constant bullshit in school. I see very little talk about the Niosi puppet. It exists, somewhere, a monument to mock Niosi for being such an asshole.
Kirb being a self centered and boisterous asshat has been a public thing for ages. Newgrounds was Kirb’s home for the longest time, and even THERE he earned the hatred of a very famous GRUMPY person who Kirb leeched off of for years. Who remembers the ‘Brawl Taunts’ days back on Newgrounds? Where, utilizing Rina-Chan’s horrible voice acting and garbage writing paired with Kirb’s garbage animation skills, the dynamic duo shat out video after video that constantly made the front page of Newgrounds? Tom Fulp was basically held hostage by the views that the videos garnered despite their awful quality. That, coupled with Kirb’s TOME episodes and the god awful Parody Rangers episodes getting tons of traffic thanks to Fireball20xl, Kirb was a big name on Newgrounds and his bolstering and public jerking that he engaged in earned him the ire of basically every major Newgrounds animator at the time. (Kirb would later on try to claim that he didn’t enjoy making Brawl Taunts but he certainly made THREE of them and suckled that sweet teat of popularity the whole time without a complaint).
In fact, I went and checked before writing this. Go to Newgrounds. Look up Brawl Funnies. A large group of animators got together to mock how awful Brawl Taunts was and to shit all over how much of a shitter Kirbopher is. The scene that sums up EXACTLY who Kirbopher is not exemplified better than Kirb in a hot air balloon, dumping bags of self-respect out of the basket in order to reach a cloud that says ‘popularity’.
Listen. I understand people wanting to stand up for their heores, and if you like TOME, well then you’re free to like what you want in life. But don’t…..don’t sit there and assume that just because you LIKE this one thing that the creator can’t be a raging douchebag on top of it. You DON’T know the guy. You can’t make that type of judgement logically. And thus you have no right to try and jump down the throats of those who HAVE had the balls to speak out.
You think that Kirb owning up publicly to what he’s done, FOR ONCE validating the claims of abuse that people have kept receipts of over the years, FINALLY dropping the facade and admitting that he’s done some pretty fucked up things and treated people badly….you think that him owning up publicly to that is going to make things WORSE? That’s SQUARE ONE of how things start to get BETTER.
I was a part of Kirb’s friend group. I was a yes-man to Bryon Beaubien just like Kirb was. I watched ten girls in two years get abused, shat on, and I did and said nothing that would have stopped it. I even flirted with a girl several years my minor during and after Psy had been courting her. I said crude things, THOUGHT in a toxic way that was not even my own. I was a huge asshole and I was guilty by association and guilty thanks to inaction, just like Kirb.
But I owned up to it.
I PUT myself out there for ridicule, so that the poor girl who I wasn’t even AWARE I had hurt could hopefully find some closure. So that the brave person who called me out publicly could have the satisfaction of knowing that I took responsibility and did what I could to make things right. So that I could try and make a difference for the people I had witnessed get abused.
I witnessed Kirb mock these women in his flash cartoons. I witnessed Kirb mock these girls in Skype calls. I witnessed Kirb obsess and foam at the mouth over women he was stalking. I witnessed Kirb make a mad grab at fame no matter the cost over and over and over again. Nothing makes me more furious than knowing that Kirb looked these victims in the eyes and called what he KNEW had happened to them ‘Gossip’, all to cover his tail, just for him to turn around and take the high road in a vague and non-confessional manner weeks later when the creator of Clarence was called out for sexual abuse because he knew it would make him seem more popular.
Nothing is as far greater an insult to me than for me to extend my hand to him to have us both stand tall and open ourselves up about the sordid hands we played in such abuse only to have him turn his back on me, his deeds, and the people he had hurt.
I did my best to change my outlook on life and change myself so I could be a better person to my then-girlfriend. Now we’ve been married for over two years here in 2016. Kirb has never changed, not in twelve years. I called him out back in 2014 but it seems that it needs to be said again. There is nothing stopping you from trying to become a better person. When you are as a guilty of so many shitty things as Niosi is, I know that it seems daunting to even make an ATTEMPT. But that’s the first step, and the first step is ALWAYS the hardest. Change who you are. Admit to your transgressions, ACKNOWLEDGE your victims of abuse, own up to your bad behavior, and DO something about it.
It’s far better to face consequences than it is to live as a guilty coward.
I cannot remember who it was (and I apologize for forgetting) who made the post saying ‘Name ONE Thing Kirbopher has done that wasn’t for himself that wasn’t a PR stunt’, but oh my god. You’re absolutely right. Kirb has NEVER done anything that didn’t further his own social goals. If you “Can’t Accept” that this Chris Niosi is the TRUE Chris Niosi, then I’m sorry for how short sighted you are. I implore you to go seek out Brawl Funnies and do your own digging. Listen to old Wha-Chows where Kirb HAD to dominate every conversation and make it about him or else he’d get angry and snappy and begin insulting others or cutting them off. Actually READ what the other people who have stepped forward have to say. It’s all there. If Kirb is still a raging and unapologetic douche then I simply wish that, if he won’t change, hopefully those who blindly follow him will.
SERIOUSLY.It’s okay to like someone’s work and still acknowledge that the creator is NOT a good person. Skyler Page sexually abused a female coworker and was kicked off Clarence, his own show, but people still watch it and sometimes even enjoy it. I adore Ren & Stimpy and it is public knowledge that John K, it’s creator, is a huge asshole. HECK, I enjoy the artwork of Andrew Dickman and he’s a sexually abusive rage monster. Will I publicly endorse the artwork from this writhing waste of space through likes and reblogs? No, he does not that deserve that. But I can still enjoy, from time to time, a piece of artwork that he creates.
So if you love TOME, I IMPLORE you to distinguish the person from the product. I get that TOME can be something someone might like. I myself enjoyed it back in the day ten years ago. But do not throw yourself against the rocks to defend someone you know nothing about. NEVER do that. The victims that speak out are not at fault, only Kirb is. And even then, don’t let Niosi being a huge assface turn you away from something you enjoy. If him being a waste of oxygen is enough to make you give up TOME then so be it, but the victims here aren’t ASKING for you to give up TOME. They’re not asking anything. They simply want people to be informed.
If you need any base proof of Kirb’s true character, note how he’s not at all called for his fans to NOT attack those who have come forward and how he’s not condemned the actions of those who have gone after these victims. But he SURE WILL take time to speak to the ‘little people’ that he normally ignores when they pop up to dump praise on him.
As for those who DO hate Kirb who have known him the most intimate through school and such, I DO hope you can find it in you to at least…be more public about Niosi. You know better than anyone else how much of an unapologetic leech he is. If he can’t bring himself to change, you have every bit of power in you to help get him blacklisted further and further. I know that, sometimes in the animation industry, shit talking someone can lead to you having trouble getting employed but in this instance, with Kirb, I don’t think you’ll lose ANY face. You’re only adding more testimonies to the pile. You would do far less harm than good. Your voice is important when people who share your opinion on how shitty Kirb is come under attack for that very opinion.
What if Pokemon were in other anime? A Pokemon x anime crossover! There are 5 different animes
(plus a bonus one) being featured. Can you name them all? This video has everything: action, drama, comedy, gore(??) and magical girls! What more could you ask for?
there’s a callout post going around about paul robertson and i feel the need to throw in my two cents. note that i’m not excusing the gross shit he’s drawn or trying to convince anyone that it wasn’t bad because yes it is bad and we should acknowledge that it’s bad
first of all paul robertson did not make the video game custer’s revenge, that claim is ridiculous. paul was born in 1979 and that game came out for the atari in 1982. it is literally impossible for him to have been involved. what he DID do was make the awful tentacle porn parody image of it in 2011 that’s been circulating
it’s also worth noting that he doesn’t seem to have drawn anything particularly bad since 2011. no more dicks, no more tentacles, no more intense gore, no more cheap shocking imagery. if the last three years of his blog are any indication then he’s grown past all of that. by all means, acknowledge that the old shit is bad because man is there some bad shit in there, but he doesn’t draw that anymore
and i mean. this might just be me, but i think it’s kinda silly to boycott a whole show based on the problematic history of a guest animator who worked on two episodes. skip those episodes if you don’t like paul robertson, i certainly won’t blame you for not liking him knowing the things he’s drawn, but hundreds of people work on that show and i don’t think that acknowledging the problematic art of one crew member means you have to boycott every other episode that he had no involvement with
like i said i don’t wanna try to invalidate anyone’s feelings towards the downright awful shit he’s drawn but i just don’t want people to go around calling for a boycott of gravity falls based partially on misinformation