#and called Major Monogram to let him explain it

[just-1other-nerd]

Be like Dr. D call your autistic friend to do the research for you they are better at this than some stupid ai

[passable-talent]

ya boi is back with a new niche character played by hayden christensen for yall to enjoy.

CW: blood, wounds, cursing, piercings, tattoos, guns, fighting, deaths of unnamed characters

AJ x gn!reader - Takers (2010). the stupid hat grew on me.

dedicated as always to @haydens-moles and @iscariot-rising for being my friends and for appreciating hayden as much as I do

The story of your life, as you loved to explain it, boiled down to a little math joke. Excited five, you called it, or it’s official terminology- five factorial. Written as “5!”, hence the awful pun.

“Factorials,” you’d say, “for those that don’t remember, are a multiplication of every number up to the one that’s being discussed. As such, five factorial is five, times four, times three, times two, times one.”

Your life, your excited five, was as follows: five major scars, four tattoos, three piercings, two eyebrow slits.

“The one is usually ignored,” you’d say, “as it makes no multiplicative difference. That’s why I don’t have a ‘one’.”

In August, 2009, you got your ‘one’. Its a doozy. But we’re not there yet.

~~~

Five major scars.

December 25, 1983. It’s your first Christmas. Your parents think you’re just being a cranky infant, but something way more serious is going on- they find out the next day that you’ve got RSV, a respiratory virus that’s especially dangerous for infants. You spend the next three years periodically using a ventilator whenever the coughing acts up. You don’t remember much of it, other than the vaguely crayon-looking piece of the machine, but you can’t forget that it happened, due to the pretty white scar over the bridge of your nose. It’s not such a gnarly wound as it is a reminder- not of the ventilator that wore through your skin thanks to frequent use, but of the virus that almost took your life only a few months after it had begun.

July 28, 1993. You’re seven years old, staying at your grandmother’s house with your cousin, who’s six months older than you. You’re playing cops and robbers- he’s the cop. The forest streaks by as you run the length of the property, slightly faster than him, but he catches you and throws you down. You land on your back on a jagged rock, not only painfully impacting your spine but digging deeply into your muscles beside it. It was the first hospital visit you remember, and the dark, long scar halfway between your tailbone and your shoulders reminds you never to fall without controlling it.

January 15, 1998. You’re in sophomore year of high school, and not the most popular. You like to play by the rules, and some asshole junior decides that he doesn’t like the way you won’t let him cheat off of your trigonometry homework, and decides that a knife is the best way to settle the problem. Those homework answers weren’t worth the long white line over all four of the knuckles of your left hand, but it is a pretty little reminder that lowlifes do what they want. And law enforcement, or whatever your school called the ��anti-bullying league’, does jack shit about it.

October 30, 2002. You’re almost done with your certification to become a cop- thank god. You couldn’t stand the people who were to become your graduate class. They were so ready to become cops just to bully people, just to get to weild an iron fist and hide their bloodlust behind the law. Not you- you’re here to do some real good. That’s what they don’t like about you. And that’s why Fred Young splits open your cheek when just he’s supposed to be practicing his sparring. It’s an ugly scar, needed six stitches, but it’s a reminder that even the cops aren’t always the good guys.

May 14, 2004. You’re a new cop, working under detective Wells. There’s a robbery of a jewelry store a few blocks from where you’re patrolling, and as you’re making your way to the scene, a man in a fedora runs smack into you, taking you both to the ground. Broken glass digs into your shoulder, but he apologizes, and his blue eyes look so genuine. He’s afraid. You’d not realize until a month later that he wasn’t a scared bystander, but in fact one of the thieves. The fifth of your scars matches your first meeting with AJ- who would, by the end of the summer, become one of the most important people in your life.

~~~

Four tattoos.

August 4, 1999- Left wrist, inside knob of the bone. The little symbol had represented something to you when you were sixteen, but it had long lost whatever meaning you’d given it. Now, it was just a pattern to pass your thumb over whenever you got restless.

February 16, 2002- The cap of the right shoulder. It was your bunk number, from when you were training to be a cop. Nothing extravagant, but it was supposed to represent the beginning of the rest of your life- it was supposed to represent your calling.

June 1, 2004- Left arm, the outside of the forearm. Bleeding from your first tattoo was a new one, the largest one on your body. It was geometrical and high contrast, black lines loosely following your veins up toward your elbow, as though that left hand was bringing darkness into your body. It did- you shot with your left hand.

July 17, 2004- Right collarbone. A single, circular monogram, made up of six letters.

T A K E R S.

~~~

Three piercings.

April 7, 1989. Your father took you to get your ears pierced, but insisted upon arrival that it was too expensive to get both done, so you only got your left. The assymetrical style would have to grow on you- at six years old, you hated it.

May 19, 2003. You couldn’t have piercings at the academy, they were unprofessional, they were dangerous. So the night of graduation, you went out and got a hole punched into your nostril- the pain made tears well up, but more than anything, it was the satisfaction of giving a pretty little ‘fuck you’ to your superiors, who you’d never see again.

July 18, 2006. AJ takes you to a fancy beauty salon for an eyebrow bar after hearing maybe once that you’d wanted another piercing. You knew you were in love with him- who else in your life had ever paid such close attention to you?

~~~

Two eyebrow slits.

June 23, 2004. You leave the police force. You tell Wells that it’s because you’re pissed you can’t find the guys that robbed the jewelry store, but that’s not even close to the truth. You’ve found them- hell, you got a good look at one of them on the very day of the robbery. But you’ve done the looking, and didn’t have the heart to bring them in. They had families. They donated ten percent of every heist to a charity. They did more for the community than the police you worked for, and they did it clean- they didn’t hurt anybody, if they didn’t have to. They did what you’d hoped to do, when you joined the force. What you’d never gotten to do. Eyebrow slits were considered extremely unprofessional, so the moment you were free of your two week notice, you split open your right eyebrow. It would give a good balance to the bar piercing you hoped to put through your left someday.

March 4, 2007. You’re cleaning up your slit when AJ walks into the room and stands behind you so that you can see him through the mirror. You keep your eyes on the trimmer you’re so delicately running over your skin, but when he opens up a little felt box with a pretty ring inside, you whirl around with such panic that you make the slit approximately half an inch wider than it should’ve been. Lilli helped you fill in the gap for the engagement photos, but you decided to keep a second slit on the other end of the unfortunate shave- a little reminder of the evening in which he proposed to you.

~~~

“The one is usually ignored,” you’d say, “as it makes no multiplicative difference. That’s why I don’t have a ‘one’.”

On August 27, 2009, you got your ‘one’.

You’d been out of the game for two years, choosing not to take a cut of the winnings. You’d advise, you’d plan, you’d set up, but you did not want to be on site when the heist went down. The boys had it taken care of, and you butted heads with Jesse far too often for anyone’s comfort.

You especially couldn’t work on this project, thanks to a little fucker named Ghost- he didn’t trust you, as a member of the Takers he’d never met, and you didn’t trust him, as a criminal you’d never grown to respect.

You knew that most of them didn’t trust Ghost either, but everything he brought forward checked out- AJ must’ve mumbled the plan thirty times in his sleep in the five days from its suggestion to its fruition. There were no holes. Knowing Gordon and John, they had some ‘insurance’ for Ghost, anyway. In case it went wrong.

Still, you stayed at the Hotel Roosevelt through it all. You were their sitter, keeping the hotel room warm and ready for their arrival. They arrived back one by one- and like usual, AJ got there first. He, Gordon, and John were usually the first to get out, but he always made it back to the room first, because that way he could get some time with you. That way, he could have a private reunion, fresh off of a job.

“Hey, baby,” he said as he closed the door, and you waited for him to turn his eyes to you before you gave him a smile. He threw down his bag onto one of the chairs, and it landed with a heavy thump, but you’d long grown used to the sound of the score. However much he pulled, good for him. You were just happy to slip your arms around his neck and feel him kiss the scar on your cheekbone before sliding his lips to yours.

He always kissed different right after a job- before the boys had all gotten back, before the total was counted. He had a confidence to his movement, but there was fear, insecurity, just a tinge. He wasn’t just a taker, he was a man, who had worries and risks just like every other man.

You were out of the game for a few reasons. They had it taken care of. You butted heads with Jesse. You didn’t trust Ghost. But you knew that you were AJ’s biggest fear- you knew that if you got hurt on a job, he’d never forgive himself.

So he kissed you, he held you close, he reminded himself that you were here, you were fine. His long fingers seems to take up half your back, and his hair was already in his face, as though you’d tugged it there yourself.

With just one more pass of your lips over his, you pulled away.

“How’d it go?” You asked with a soft voice, rolling your first finger through the curls at the back of his neck.

“Could’ve gone better,” he said with a chuckle, “but we got it done.” You heard a knock at the door, and Gordon was the next arrival- then John, then Jake, then Ghost. Jesse came last, and with him, a whole host of new problems.

A bullet splintered the door and caught AJ somewhere under the ribcage. Everyone hit the floor, diving behind couches, and you popped your head up long enough to see AJ launch over the kitchen island. The room shattered into gunfire and feathers from expensive pillows, glass shards littering the ground like raindrops. It all moved so fast, and the air exploded into noise. You could barely track AJ through it all, he was so far away, all the way across the room. And you wanted to keep your eye straight down the barrel of your gun.

“AJ!” Jesse called from beside you, hidden behind a brown leather couch, “You okay?” You looked around the side of it, and saw him ten feet from you, the longest ten feet of your life, behind the kitchen island. He was struggling, on his hands and knees.

“Get up,” you snarled, knowing he’d already taken a hit.

“Out the back!” John ordered from the doorway behind you, and you started to realize the moment, the dangerous, heavy moment. AJ was all the way across the room- he couldn’t cross it. Not with these mobsters holding ground.

“Let’s go!” Gordon shouted, and your eyes connected with AJ’s. He saw the same thing you did.

“Go,” he said, voice calm, and it cut through the chaos of the room, cut through every hardened lesson ever pounded into you, cut through every wall you’d ever built around you, around your heart. “I’m coming.”

AJ was a good liar. But he couldn’t lie to you.

“No,” you growled through gritted teeth, and you made a rash decision.

You’d always been good at gymnastics. You had strong control over the movement of your body, and had, ever since you’d learned from your cousin throwing you down onto that stone that split open your back. You could move and slink and roll and dive in ways that would keep you not only from falling, but even from being noticed.

Using the chaos as your cover, you did a tight diving roll across the room to him, slipping between shelters unscathed. This brought you just a bit closer to the mobsters, but further from the back door exit that Gordon had been trying to guide you toward. You’d chose AJ over your safety any day- the surprise and the fear in his eyes said that he wished you wouldn’t.

Making sure you had enough ammo, you considered your final move- this didn’t end until these mobsters did. There were five of them left, after all this commotion: four in the room, one in the hall. You couldn’t take all five, not with their guns being so much more than yours, but you could take out a few. You could shift attention, you could buy time.

And hopefully, you could stay breathing, too. That’d be nice.

“Stay down,” you hissed, leaving AJ behind the island where he’d be forgotten about, or assumed dead. Then, you rounded the corner and rolled to the feet of the closest mobster. As you came out of the roll you caught his legs in yours, wrenching them from under him and taking him to the ground with one of the first moves you’d learned in basic training. He hit the wall hard, and was unconscious by the time he landed- the same could not be said for his friends.

From your right, you could see Gordon, still firing, still hopeful for your and AJ’s escape. Your shoulders were above the couch, so you knew he saw as you turned your weapon to the second mobster before he could turn to you, and stopped his heart.

Your commotion had caught the attention of the other three who still remained. You whirled around and raised your gun to one of them, but they managed it first.

Gordon had to swallow back his horror as he saw a bullet enter the front of your side profile, and blood explode from the back. He took out the mobster who still had his attention on you- but your shoulders smacked to the ground outside of his view, and he closed the door.

Luckily, their aim was spotty. You now had a useless left arm, but you were still breathing. Not that you’d let the one remaining mobster notice that.

You and AJ played dead, only a few feet from each other, but the kitchen island becoming a thicker wall than any you’d ever been split by. As you stared blankly at the ceiling, taking shallow breaths hidden by the folds of your shirt, you hoped he didn’t think you were dead. You hoped he wasn’t bleeding out.

After what felt like agonizingly long minutes, the shooting finally stopped, and the door opened again. Gordon was the first to enter the room, and rounded the couch to you, grief in his eyes, expecting the worst.

But you could give him a smile.

“Surprise,” you groaned, and he lit up in relief, helping you sit up with your good arm.

“Look at you, playing dirty,” he said with a laugh, “I thought you were gone for sure.”

“AJ,” you heard Jake say from across the room, and finally AJ could sit up from where you’d forced him down. The two of you had both bled straight through your shirts, but there wasn’t any time for sweet reunions- everyone had to get out, and fast.

AJ left his car wherever it was. John gave the two of you a ride to the airstrip where Gordon was going to disappear for a while, and on the way you and AJ attempted to give each other first aid until the personnel on the plane could take care of it.

Eventually, you leaned against his left, and he against your right, your wounds still stinging and sticky with blood, but manageable, for as long as they needed to be.

The night didn’t get any easier, but that didn’t matter- you were home free, they’d managed the job, and Ghost was out of the picture, and neither of you were going to die.

And someday, when you felt brave enough to recount your near-death, near-loss, near-jailed experience, you’d say:

Five major scars, four tattoos, three piercings, two eyebrow slits. And one gun shot wound.

-🦌 Roe

[woulddieforperrytheplatypus]

So… I clicked on your Marvel tag and, because I am a cruel, cruel person, what do you think would happen if Perry, Candace, and Vanessa got snapped instead of Phineas, Ferb, and Dr. Doofenshmirtz? Obviously, the gang probably wouldn’t remain completely intact, so one or more of Isabella, Buford, and Baljeet would have also been dusted. Like, Candace and Vanessa would end up the same age as Phineas and Ferb, and Doof would lose his entire support system (except maybe Norm).

ooh throwback to the first snap au 👀

First of all, HOW DARE YOU

Secondly, I think this would throw off the PnF gang just as much as losing Phineas and Ferb would but in a completely different way. I think losing Candace would really dull the boys' spark, and they'd really stop wanting to build things. The rest of the gang (whoever's left of it, at least) would want to be there for them, but they'd be facing their own losses as well, and I think eventually they'd stop hanging out too much. They'd be friendly enough at school, but by the time they've started recovering emotionally, their friendship would pretty much be over. One day they'll look back on it as just a summer thing when they were kids.

I think what happens to Doof is entirely dependant on who remains at OWCA. The best case scenario (for him, at least) would probably be if Monty, Mrs. Monogram, and Carl were all snapped out of existence, leaving Major Monogram with pretty much nothing left. I think they might be able to help each other if they're both feeling the same loss because they'd both need someone to lean on. But if any of Monogram's family or friends (well, friend. there's Carl. other than that, he has no friends) survive, Monogram will doubtlessly lean on them instead.

I think the other possible alternative where Doof comes out on top (or, you know, not on the bottom) is if Monty loses everyone he loves. He doesn't necessarily have the best relationship with his parents, but he loves them despite Major Monogram's their flaws. If Carl gets snapped, too, Monty would naturally be the next in line to take over OWCA. I don't think he'd want to, but I think he'd feel compelled to when he saw the messes that were the OWCA agents and the LOVEMUFFIN scientists. Half of them will have lost their nemesis, you know? They need guidance. And if Monty's in charge, he's going to make it his personal duty to keep track of who's alive and who's not, so he'd keep an eye on all the scientists.

I have to think he wouldn't know who's been snapped? I'm assuming OWCA would be in contact with Fury and Monty would know what's going on, but Fury wouldn't have all the answers so Monty would have to go to all the scientists' empty lairs when he doesn't hear from them. He wouldn't want to go to Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc after losing Vanessa, but it's been dead silent here anyway; it'll just be a quick-in, quick-out (and maybe a brief conversation with Norm).

Obviously, that's not the case; Doof is just sitting there in the dark — and probably crying if he has any tears left. They both love Vanessa, they both like Perry, and they both have complicated-but-probably-positive relationships with Major Monogram, so they'd have a lot in common. I think Monty would take pity on him and sit down with him and just hang out. There'd be some talking, maybe some crying, probably a lot of silence, but in the end, they'd both appreciate the other's company, and I think that might almost evolve into a substitute father-child relationship to make up for the ones they just lost. It's not the same, but they have to make due where they can, right?

Alternatively, maybe there's nobody left for Doof. Maybe there is, but they don't want anything to do with him. Either way, Doof would be all alone, and maybe he'd want to let it that way. Maybe he'd unplug the phone. Maybe he'd put a sign on the door asking for people to stay away. Maybe he'd turn Norm off. He'd cope by shutting everyone out — not that there's really anyone left for him to let in anyway — and fall into a deep, years-long hopeless depression. I don't think there's a single possible outcome where he thrives; I think it's just a matter of how much he suffers.

I do have to wonder if it would be a possibility for him to reconnect with his blood family. I'd hope he wouldn't want to see his parents, but he still loves his mother and he still respects his father; maybe he would want to if they'd want to see him. Maybe Roger got snapped and Heinz tries to talk to his parents about it. Maybe it goes well; maybe they call him a schnitzel and kick him out because they're grieving, too, and they don't have time for him. Alternatively, maybe Roger survives and he loses everyone close to him. Maybe Melanie gets snapped away and he loses his closest friend/maybe girlfriend. Maybe their parents are snapped away, too, and Heinz is the only one he knows would understand. (Bear in mind that Roger really doesn't understand the scope of their parents' hatred for Heinz; he knows he was the favorite but he doesn't seem to have much of a grasp on just how miserable Heinz's childhood was. Because Heinz still wants his parents' love and respect, I don't think Roger will ever really understand what his brother went through.) I don't know if Heinz would accept an olive branch from his brother. I do think that if it went the other way, Roger would accept one from Heinz. If Heinz decides he'd like Roger back in his life, I think it would work out.

I think the interesting part would be what happens afterwards. Perry obviously fits like a glove. His boys love him; Doof would literally have mourned him until his own dying day if that's how it played out; Candace didn't even realize they were both gone. He'd be upset to have missed such a big part of his boys' lives, but overall, things would be fine.

Candace, meanwhile, would probably have the hardest time adjusting. Her annoying little brothers aren't even little anymore, for god's sake! And they'd be do different, too. No more building; no more little posse of kids; everything changed in literally the blink of an eye for her. And what about Jeremy? What if he didn't get blipped and he found someone else? He'd be thrilled to see her again, obviously, but probably not enough to break up with whoever he's seeing right now. Alternatively, maybe Jeremy got blipped and Little Suzie didn't, so she and Jeremy can bond over their little siblings growing up so fast.

I think the only one(s?) who would have it worse would be the ones from the main gang that got blipped. They'd all been in elementary school together, and now some of them are in high school. They might all try to become friend again and maybe it works for the older kids, but it's such a big gap in both age and maturity that I don't think they'd ever be the same. The blipped kid(s) would probably have to make new friends and start all over.

Vanessa would be welcome back with open arms. Then those arms would wrap around her and not let her go until she was literally about to pass out from lack of oxygen. If Monty wasn't blipped, he definitely would have moved on, but I'd like to think they'd still be friends? I also think seeing Ferb all grown up (or, you know, 14ish years old) might expedite the dating process. I also think that would make Candace incredibly uncomfortable — more so than I think it did in canon because not only is that her friend and her little brother, but it's a reminder that he's really not that little anymore.

I'd like to think that if Doof did make friends with someone (one of the Monogram boys or Roger), they stay friends. It absolutely boggles Vanessa's mind when she comes back to it, but it just makes Perry happy to see that he wasn't completely miserable. I don't think he'd go back to evil, but he and Perry would still hang out (and it would take Perry a while to get used to the idea of going to DEI without getting trapped). Vanessa might kill her dad when she finds out he turned Norm off to mope in peace, but they'd dust him off and turn him back on and they'd explain everything to him.

I don't think things would ever go back to the way they were, but, ultimately, I think it would all be fine. It'll take a few years, but I think everyone would ultimately adjust just fine to their new lives.

[fardell24b]

Daria and the Flynn Fletchers - Big Ideas in Lawndale - Part 1

Big Ideas in Lawndale

July 13, 2004

Lawndale, Wisconsin

111 Howard Drive, 7:40 AM

Jane Lane opened the door and found her friend, Daria Morgendorffer, waiting. “You’re early, Daria,” she said.

 “I know, but I’d like to get over into Danville early, before Candace gets it into her mind to come over here,” Daria said.

 “True,” Jane said. She knew that Candace Flynn would think to come over to Lawndale sooner or later. “You did call her, right?” She thought that if Candace wasn’t home that it would be awkward waiting for her to come back.

 “I called the Flynn-Fletchers, but there was no answer.”

 “I’ve had my Coffee. I’m ready to go.”

 “What about Trent?” Daria asked, referring to Jane’s brother.

 “He stayed up all night…”

 “Of course.”

   Danville, Minnesota

2308 Maple Drive, 8:00 AM

For a second day in a row Trent’s Plymouth parked out the front of a two story house in a Danville suburb.

“Are you sure you want to be here this early?” Trent Lane asked just before he turned off the engine.

 “Yes,” Daria said.

 “Before Candace left home to come over to Lawndale,” Jane added.

 “Cool,” Trent said, as his sister and her friend got out of the car.

  Candace Flynn was ready to go. She had gotten up early (not very easily, given that she had gone out in Lawndale the night before) and had her breakfast. She was about to leave when she saw Daria, Jane and Trent enter the backyard. “Oh!” she said. She went and opened the sliding door. “You’re here early.”

 “I thought that coming here before you headed into Lawndale would be a good idea,” Daria said.

 “We didn’t want you going back and forth too much,” Jane added.

 Candace thought for a moment. “I guess so. But no one else is up yet.”

 “We can wait,” Daria said.

 “I’ll take a nap,” Trent said.

  A while later, Phineas and Ferb came down the stairs.

 “It looks like a good day, Ferb,” Phineas noted. Ferb nodded.

 “Hi, Phineas,” Jane said.

 “You’re here again, Cool!”

 “Yes, yesterday’s project gave me great ideas for my paintings,” Jane said.

 “Cool,” Phineas said.

 “They’re going to be a while in deciding,” Candace said.

 “Let’s look at our plans, Ferb.” Ferb flashed a thumbs up signal.

  Linda and Lawrence came down a few minutes later. “I see that Candace has invited you over again?” Linda asked.

 “Yes, Mrs. Flynn-Fletcher,” Jane replied.

 “It is good that she has friends in Lawndale, as well as here in Danville.”

 Phineas overheard this. “That’s it, Ferb! I know what we are going to do today!”

 “What are you doing?” Candace asked.

 “We’ll build an advanced vehicle and then use it to visit Lawndale,” Phineas said.

 Ferb nodded.

 “And so we go back and forth,” Daria said.

 “True,” Jane said. She noted that Perry had gone from where she had seen him. “Hey, Where’s Perry?”

  Once again, Perry entered his lair, after entering via one of the Flynn-Fletchers’ kitchen cupboards. “Good Morning, Agent P. It appears that Doofenshmirtz has established a branch of his business in downtown Lawndale, in a disreputable street…” Major Francis Monogram started.

 He was then interrupted by his intern, Karl Carl. “Dega Street isn’t that disreputable, Sir.”

 “Karl!”

 “Well it isn’t, Sir.”

 “Well, I say it’s disreputable.”

 “Yes. Sir.”

 Monogram turned back to his Agent. “At any event, this development must be investigated. Get going and find out what he’s up to. We’re counting on you, Agent P!”

  At the same time as Perry departing in the direction of Lawndale, Phineas and Ferb exited the house into the back yard, followed by Candace, Jane and Daria.

 “So, you are going to build something better than what you built yesterday?” Daria asked.

 “Absolutely,” Phineas said.

 “So, it’s not going to fall apart like that stone flying bus?” Jane asked.

 “No, we’ll be using state of the art materials,” Phineas enthused.

 “That’s good then,” Jane said.

 “Certainly safer,” Candace mused. “But still bustable!”

 Isabella Garcia-Shapiro entered by the side gate. “Hi, what’cha doo-in?”

 Phineas explained the idea.

 “That’s cool, I haven’t seen much of Lawndale.”

 “Compared to Danville, it’s boring,” Jane said.

 Ferb produced a plan. “That’s a great design,” Phineas enthused. Ferb gave a thumbs up. “Let’s get started.”

[wildshadowtamer]

A Different Path (What If?) Ch 5

Summary: Perry came back from a non-heinz-related mission, covered in soot and quite out of breath, he expected to just spend a few hours doing paperwork, but when he logged into his profile, he saw something sickening.

Here is the story of why Perry hates OWCA.

Tags (Chapter Specific): Violence, Attempted Murder, Attempted Child Murder, Blood

Tags (Fic General): Ducky Momo - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Character Death, car crash, burn scars, burn victim, Fluff and Angst, warning: this fic is dark, especially the first chapter, Inspired by Fanfiction, Based on a Tumblr Post, AU, what if au, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Mentions of car crashes, Past Child Abuse, mentions of child abuse, mentions of child abandonment, Family Fluff, Fluff, Violence, Attempted Murder, Attempted Child Murder, Blood

Notes: Credit to @woulddieforperrytheplatypus for encouraging me to write this fic! TW for violence, attempted murder, attempted child murder, and blood

Rating: Mature

Read It On Ao3

or

Read It Here!

~~~~

July 18th, 2006

Perry came back from a non-heinz-related mission, covered in soot and quite out of breath, his entire body aching from the fight against 4 goons at once. He stumbled into his lair below D.E.I and collapsed tiredly onto his chair in front of his giant movie-like monitor, he sighed with a chittering noise and pulled the chair closer to the keyboard.

Then he remembered that he would likely need to do paperwork for arresting the villain he was up against, and likely file a mission report and summarize everything that happened. He laid his head on the desk and silently wished for something to happen so he could avoid it, but he knew there was no escaping endless paperwork, and so he turned on his monitor and clicked into his agent file.

Just as he was about to make a new mission report, he spotted something unusual on his file, a hazard sign flickering on his boys’ family file. Thats strange, did something happen while he was at work?

He puts his phone back on noise, as its usually on silent when he’s on missions, and checks his texts. No recent texts from Heinz.

He clicked into Phineas and Ferb’s file warily, the boys, as of last year, had started making amazing inventions and fun creations near daily in the summer and winter, and working on simple projects in the school months. Recently they had been making some admittedly extreme projects, including 3d printing monkeys and teaching them how to ride a unicycle, Perry still isn’t too sure how they cleaned it up before Charlene, Heinz’ ex-wife, saw it.

However, what Perry saw in the files made his fur stand on end; Each of their inventions had been logged and dated, each with a threat level, ranging from safe green to deadly red.

Threat Level? Their not even double digits, how could they be a threat to anyone except the laws of reality!?

Perry quickly scrolled to the most recent addition, today’s creation, which was apparently an ice cream machine gone wrong, and a few wrong wires turned it into a death ray. Perry nervously glanced to the glaring red threat level on screen, he checked the notes to make sure nobody got hurt.

Notes:

Death Ray was set off and hit a tree close to the house, but no person or animal was harmed. However, I still believe these boys to be a threat, no matter their age. Villains only make more villains.

Perry chittered angrily to himself at the notes, his hands shaking as he checked who had been logging the inventions; an older agent Perry was close to, Dennis The Rabbit. He had actually been Perry’s mentor back when he was a pup. 

But, if he was so close to perry, why would he call Phineas and Ferb ‘threats’ and ‘villains’? Their just kids who made a harmless mistake!

He shook his head and took a breath, death rays are no harmless mistake, no matter the result. He’ll have to have a serious talk with the whole family about wiring safety and double checking their work.

As he mentally rehearsed his lecture, he spotted a note added to the main file of the boys, and his thoughts screeched to a terrified halt.

Set to be ‘silenced’ at 5:00pm sharp, on D.E.I balcony by Agent Dennis The Rabbit

‘Silenced’? That can’t be good. Perry’s heart raced as he checked the time; 4:58. He still had time. He didn’t bother shutting down his monitor as he ran from his lair and grabbed his jetpack, making a beeline for the balcony before Dennis could get there.

He saw the boys building on balcony, unharmed and safe, and perry nearly relaxed, but he noticed a red-band fedora peeking over the lip of the open roof, and time slowed significantly.

Perry had to choose an option fast, either tackle Dennis and risk hitting the boys, or grab the boys and risking getting hit with it himself. He made up his mind, and silently begged Heinz to forgive him. 

A bright laserbeam of light shot down from the roof, aiming right at the boys, but Perry swooped down and grabbed a sheet of metal, throwing himself infront of Phineas and Ferb to deflect the laser, which bounced back and narrowly missed Dennis’ hat.

“Perry?” Phineas asked, but Perry was too focused, he grabbed the two by the wrist and shoved them inside as Dennis parachuted down from the roof and glared at Perry.

Neither needed to talk in animal tounge to know the other’s intent, both wanted to harm, but wanted to harm very, very different people.

Dennis gave a cocky smile and took his parachute off, letting it fall to the balcony floor as the two agents sized eachother up, standing only 6 feet apart.

The distance was shortly broken as Dennis tackled Perry to the floor, punching him hard across the face as the platypus grabbed him by the neck and flipped them both over so Perry was pinning Dennis. 

It became a raging battle of tooth and claw, blood splattering on their furs as they wrestled on the ground, and Perry nearly caught Dennis with his ankle barbs, but restrained himself enough to throw the smaller agent across the balcony and through the glass windows seperating the balcony from the apartment.

Glass shattered everywhere, catching Perry in the arm as the entire window crumbled to the ground in shards, but Perry didn’t care. He was struggling to stay steady, he knew if he let go of his restraint that he would kill the admittedly weaker agent. His venom could kill a lot of animals, but he knews his family would miss him if he was sent to jail, or worse, the pound.

Still, he ran across the shattered glass, ignoring the pain in his webbed feet, and grabbed Dennis by the front of the scruff, punching him square in the face mid-action jump. Dennis went limp, knocked out cold from the punch.

“Perry the Platypus, what’s going on in here-” Heinz stopped in his tracks as he looked between the two bloody agents, one unconscious and the other wielding a near-murderous glare, and the shattered window behind them. 

Perry simply held up his clawed paws and signed “O-W-C-A”

Heinz pulled a notepad from his labcoat pocket and handed it to Perry “what did OWCA do? And why is an agent on my floor? The boys said you pushed them inside without a hello.” The scientist explained, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously

It took a few minutes, but Perry eventually shoved a series of notes into Heinz’s hands, and walked over to his jetpack on the balcony, which he had abandoned as he grabbed the metal sheet.

OWCA planned to ‘silence’ the boys with some sort of laser, they didn’t tell me. Dennis was the one to shoot them, but i got in the way and deflected it just in time. The -inator is on the roof. I’ll explain the rest later, right now i have someone to talk to.

“Someone to talk to? But perry, your inju-” Heinz stopped as he watched Perry fly away anyway, apparently uncaring of his injuries. Heinz was mad, thats for sure, but not just mad at OWCA. He was mad at, and quite disappointed in, himself.

If he had just kept an eye on the boys or brought them inside when he went to check on Candace & Vanessa, Perry wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and Perry wouldn’t be so mad. 

Perry came to a stop at OWCA HQ’s entrance, and, despite the searing pain in his feet and body, he couldn’t care less. He was infuriated, shaking with such anger he almost saw red. When he finds Monogram, he’s gonna give that monobrowed cheapskate liar a piece of his mind.

The automatic sliding doors of HQ opened as Perry was scanned by the facial recognition software, he stormed inside with a walk that Heinz once described as a “murder walk”, meaning with each minute Perry considers his option, jail seems increasingly preferred.

The other agents knew that walk, and all kept their distance from the top agent as he stormed past all of them, headed straight for the Major’s office.

“He’s definitely qutting today” Monty, the Major’s son, whispered to a human agent from canada, Lyla, Perry was sure her name was. Lyla glanced at Perry, then back to Monty, and nodded.

Like the controlled, trained agent Perry is, he kept his composure enough to only kick the door to monogram’s office off the hinges, and not throw it at him like he really wanted to. Carl recognised that enraged look in his eyes, and quickly left the room.

“Ah. Agent P. What’re you doing here?” Monogram asked warily, knowing full well, but trying to stall some time. All he got in response was an angry chitter, monogram sighed “I didn’t want to do it either, but when it comes down to the safety of the agency, we can’t have a pair of villains running around with a death ray!”

The word ‘villain’ echoed in perry’s head, his agent mind getting drowned out by pure anger as everything went red and Perry activated the chitter-to-speech translator built into his collar.

Monogram paled as he realised what he had just done.

And Perry snapped. 

Half an hour later,

Perry had left the door open, so everyone in view of the office, which would be half the agency as all of them wanted to hear this, could see and hear perry’s furious rant.

They collectively gasped as he grabbed his fedora and threw it down on the floor angrily “I’ve had enough of this agency, and i’ve had enough of YOU” Perry yelled “I QUIT.”

Monogram, pale in the face and speechless, spluttered “you- you can’t do that!”, Perry slammed a fist on the flipped office desk “well i just did.” he snarled, then turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, the agents parting like curtains to let Perry past without him hitting someone.

There was a dead silence as everyone watched their ex-best agent leave HQ for good, eventually, Monty spoke up

“Y’know,” he looks over to his father “you kinda had it coming.” he commented calmly,  hands in his hoodie pockets. He shrunk into his hood as his father glared at him, who then took a breath and flipped his table to the right way up

“Carl, get to work on Agent P’s termination paperwork. I don’t think we’re getting him back.” Monogram told the 16-year-old unpaid intern, who peeked his head through the doorway “a-alright sir, i’ll get right to it”

Heinz knew something was wrong from the moment Perry stepped foot back in the apartment, still bleeding and scratched up. 

“Perry? What did you do?” he asked his pet nervously, Perry gave a momentary glare before taking a breath and relaxing a bit, he turned off his translator in his collar and wrote something on the spare notepad he keeps next to the couch, sitting down

I quit.

Heinz spluttered “wh- you what?”, he couldn’t believe it! Perry The Platypus, his nemesis since the day perry could fight, quit his job at OWCA?

Perry tapped the same note in reiteration, then added another sentence

I quit.

Monogram tried to hurt my brothers, and i just can’t tolerate that. I was going to leave next summer anyway, he doesn’t even treat his agents with basic respect.

“Well- yeah i get that, i’d quit too if my boss tried to, y’know, kill my children and all” Heinz had calmed down from his internal rage at both OWCA and himself from almost an hour earlier, “but what are you going to do now? Being an agent was Your Thing, and who’s going to be my nemesis?” He asked, and Perry had no answer, except a helpless shrug

I’ll think about it. I need more time with the kids and you anyway, it’ll be good not to have work for a few weeks.

“Great idea! Maybe you can help out with their inventions! Oh and I know Phineas has been wanting to show you his and Ferb’s creations. Their getting very talented!” he gasped “Maybe take them to that Googleplex Mall and take them shopping, you need a new collar anyways” He suggested, and Perry thought about it for a minute, then smiled a bit and nodded

“Brilliant!” he pulls a blank calender from behind the couch, how did perry not spot that? “Here, i’ve been working on an Inator that works similarly to a time machine, it runs mostly on calendars so i went out when you were working and bought a bunch of them, i hope you don’t mind.” Heinz rambled, Perry smiled and took the calender, using his pen to plan some events him and the kids could do, he was really looking forward to this.

Leaving OWCA was the best thing Perry ever could’ve done.

[themurphyzone]

104 Words for 104 Days: Dynasty Part 1: Princess

AN: Takes place in Doof Dynasty time period. Artistic liberties have been taken, and by that I mean a LOT of artistic liberties have been taken. Also, I really wanted to write something with Isabella as the protagonist and this seemed like a good place to do it. Since this turned out much longer than I expected, I decided to just divide it into two parts.

Dynasty Part 2 Coming Soon!

“Sir! Our defenses have been compromised!” General Carl shouted, rushing into the royal palanquin and collapsing into a dead faint in front of Regent Monogram.

Princess Isabella moved her ink pot before Carl’s head could smash into it. Sensing that the calligraphy lesson was over, she carefully put the materials away while Monogram waved a jar of incense in Carl’s face.

“General, don’t faint until you’ve given us the necessary exposition first,” Monogram scolded. “And especially not in front of the Princess.”

Carl nodded weakly. “Of course, sir. My apologies, Princess.”

“Accepted,” Isabella said. “What’s this about our defenses being compromised? Surely Master Perry wouldn’t leave our country unprotected.”

“Princess, are you sure you want to hear about this?” Monogram coughed. “You’re not much more than a ceremonial figurehead until you’re of age. Until then, it’s perfectly acceptable if you want to lavish in luxury and leave the worrying to the professionals.”

Isabella fixed him with an icy glare. “Regent, I respect you and your administrative decisions. But I’ve fought Doofus Khan in a terracotta warrior before and if you’ll pardon my unprincess-like language, kicked his sorry butt back to the steppes of Mongolia. Those commoner boys fought for the Tri-Province Area and me when they were hardly trained, and I intend to do the same.”

“How old is she again?” Carl whispered to Monogram.

“Older than a child but younger than a teenager,” Monogram whispered back. “It’s the bow, I think. Throws everyone off.”

“Your report, General,” Isabella demanded.

Carl stood up and bowed his head. “The commoner boys who saved the Tri-Province Area were building the northern tower of the Great Wall near the Large Bamboo Forest of Largeness when Doofus Khan kidnapped them. Master Perry is currently training at the Loud Waterfall of Loudness, which is notoriously difficult for even the most fleetfooted messengers to access. Doofus Khan left this scroll, most likely to demoralize us before swooping in for his conquest.”

He handed the scroll to Monogram, who unfolded it and grimaced at the ink picture of Doofus Khan sticking his tongue out with a finger above his lip in an obvious mockery of his mustache.

“This means war,” Monogram huffed. “My mustache and beard combo is highly fashionable in this day and age.”

“There’s a message at the bottom,” Isabella said, placing her finger in the blank space to avoid smudging the ink.

Mwahahaha! If you want the boys back (lousy defense system by the way, do you guys really not have a militia?), send Princess Isabella to my Inescapable Fortress of Inescapableness! I wanted to call it the Inescapable Fortress of Doom, but my new scribe is defensive of his names. Just head due north. That’s all the directions I’m giving you. Don’t worry, you can’t miss it. Or do worry, cause I’ll be taking the Tri-Province Area soon enough! Have a bad day!

Wishing you all the misery in the world,

Doofus Khan

“Without Princess Isabella’s undeniable charm, our country will fall to ruin!” Monogram groaned. “We can’t abide by this fiend’s terms!”

“You aren’t stopping me,” Isabella declared. “I’m going to save my friends and the Tri-Province Area!”

“But-“

Isabella held up her hand to silence him. “I appreciate your concern. But I can take care of myself.”

“Very well,” Monogram sighed, the scroll dropping out of his hands with a dull thud.

Carl raised a hand sheepishly. “Sir, I believe I have the solution. Lady Firesong has trained a squad of preteen girls in the art of bodyguarding, self-defense, survival, pottery, gator wrestling, and decorative cupcake making. This would make for an excellent training exercise for the girls. I’ll send her a message after I’m finished fainting for the second time.”

Then he fainted again.

“I still think we’re doomed,” Monogram muttered.

o-o-o-o-o

The training complex wasn’t anything grand, especially compared to what Isabella was used to, but they had enough equipment that would make an entire Roman army jealous. Many silkworm cocoons lined each plant in the garden, and Isabella plucked one off the leaf out of curiosity, slipping it into her flowing sleeves while Monogram’s back was turned. He led them through a lantern-lit path until they reached an ancient portrait, which depicted an elderly woman in a flowing purple robe.

To Isabella’s surprise, the portrait bowed.

“I am Lady Firesong. Welcome, Princess Isabella. I’ve received word that you wish to perform a rescue mission. The girls who volunteered to accompany you are highly skilled in many areas. I hope you’ll find their company adequate,” the elderly woman rasped, then turned and clapped her hands. “Alright, girls! The Firesong anthem for the Princess, just like in rehearsal! One, two, three!”

Five girls in matching orange robes hurried into formation, singing the cutest song Isabella had ever heard in her life.

“-and it’s not too terribly long!” they chorused with a banner of the Tri-Province Area in the background.

Isabella applauded, much to the girls’ delight. Monogram didn’t look too impressed though. “Yes, yes, that was great. Princess, will you be okay?”

“Failure is not an option,” Isabella replied.

“Good,” Major Monogram said, reaching into his robe and pulling out a ribbon-tied scroll. “Deliver this scroll to Doofus Khan, will you? I, uh, have a very important message for him.”

“You can count on me!” Isabella exclaimed, taking the scroll.

Monogram nodded in approval and left, confused at the angry looks that were thrown his way when he still didn’t acknowledge their song.

“Well, it looks like my work here is done!” Lady Firesong exclaimed, settling back into her chair. “I am so glad I can rest here and let children handle matters of national security.”

o-o-o-o-o

Isabella’s clothing was custom-made by a tailor who exclusively served royalty, so creating her own Firesong robe was an entirely new experience for her. If Regent Monogram could see her filling baskets of cocoons, he would be horrified at the manual labor that a princess of her caliber certainly shouldn’t be doing.

But if a princess could operate a terracotta soldier, then she could easily create a robe out of raw silk. Besides, it was a great opportunity for learning about the other girls. She committed Gretchen, Holly, Katie, Ginger, Millie, and Adyson’s names to memory, only mixing them up twice when she was too busy taking the silk threads out of the boiling water.

“-and that’s why Lady Firesong trains us from birth. As a result, none of us really know who our parents are, but the rewards are worth it,” Gretchen explained as Isabella removed the finished robe from the loom. “I’ve always been told I’m more of a second in command type anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Isabella asked, stepping behind a bamboo screen to try on the robe. It was shorter than what she was used to, just barely reaching her knees, but much less restricting than her royal clothes. “I wouldn’t want to take your leader position just because I’m a princess.”

Gretchen smiled. “No, I can give orders, but I lack the charisma of a natural born leader. I should know. I’ve been trying for the Charisma Patch for years.”

“Well, I can always teach you,” Isabella offered. “It takes skill, confidence, and taking advantage of our naturally cute dispositions, but I’m sure you’d be able to learn!”

“Thanks! So, what do you think of the uniform?” Gretchen asked.

Isabella pushed the screen aside, twirling in her Firesong robe. “It may look delicate, but it’s durable,” Isabella said. “Also, I never knew I pulled orange off this well. I’ll have to ask my tailor for more clothing in this shade.”

Gretchen nodded, then poked her head in the doorway. “Katie! Are the accessories ready yet?”

“Right here!” Katie shouted, hurrying into the room and handing an orange sash and hairbow to Isabella.

“These sashes are the most important part of the Firesong uniform,” Gretchen said, pointing to her own sash. Unlike Isabella’s, hers was decorated with several colorful patches. “They’re proof of our accomplishments and fairly useful in a fight. Plus, we pooled our silver pieces for a hairbow. We just thought it’d look good on you.”

“Aw, you girls didn’t have to go that far!” Isabella exclaimed as she put on the sash. She let Ginger tie the hairbow, since the girl seemed enthusiastic about touching her hair.

Now that she couldn’t be recognized as a royal, they were ready for action.

“Storm the base!” Adyson shouted.

“Bring lots and lots of weaponry!” Holly suggested, pounding her fist into her hands.

It seemed they didn’t have much of a head for strategy. But Isabella supposed that was what a leader was for.

“Our main objective is infiltrating Doofus Khan’s fortress and rescuing the boys so they can complete the Great Wall,” Isabella said, and silence fell instantly. “But we need to pack only necessary items because a giant desert lies to the north, and we’ll need to cross it in order to get there. In other words, no more than what a two-humped camel can carry.”

“Katie, fill the water flasks!” Gretchen barked. “Ginger and Adyson, grab the food! Make sure you include lots of ox jerky!”

Adyson groaned. “I really hate ox jerky...”

“It’s a start, but there’s a necessary stop we should take before heading north,” Isabella continued. “Master Perry is currently training at the Loud Waterfall of Loudness, so we’ll need to go there first and get his help. What do you girls think?”

“Let’s go!” Millie exclaimed. The other girls echoed her battle cry.

Ginger held up a lute. “I’m in charge of the travel music!”

The other girls glanced at her.

“What? Travel music and a montage are necessary items too!”

o-o-o-o-o

Ginger’s idea of travel music was playing ‘You Snuck Your Way Right into My Rice Paddy’ over and over again. Sure, everyone liked the song, but after two hundred repeats without taking requests from anyone else?

Not so much.

Everyone was relieved when the roar of the waterfall drowned out her lute. Unfortunately, it drowned out everything else too.

Relying on finger signals and other forms of non-verbal communication, they made their way through the lush undergrowth. Millie and Holly used sharp rocks to mark every tree they passed to make the return journey faster, Katie scouted ahead, and Gretchen and Ginger dragged Adyson between them, who was still recovering from a nasty fall in a ditch.

When they finally arrived at the riverbank, they found Master Perry meditating underneath a pounding waterfall.

“Master Perry! The Tri-Province Area is in trouble again!” Isabella shouted, but couldn’t make herself heard above the waterfall.  

Everyone except Adyson added their voices, shouting as loud as they could, but neither the platypus or panda were paying attention.

Isabella silenced them with a wave of her hand. It just wasn’t enough of a hook to nab Master Perry’s full attention. They needed something more.

Isabella inhaled and screeched in the deepest voice she could manage.

“YOUR FORMER STUDENTS ARE IMPRISONED IN DOOFUS KHAN’S FORTRESS!”

Master Perry’s eyes snapped open. He dove into the water, resurfacing with a topknot and traditional warrior’s outfit.

The group went back to the main road so they could talk without screaming over the waterfall. Adyson muttered something about salamanders, her head lolling against Gretchen’s shoulder as her sandals dragged against the leafy soil.

“How did you do that?” Holly demanded, her hair still frizzed from the waterfall.

“I’m excellent at breath control. Plus it’s great for scaring Regent Monogram,” Isabella said. She turned to Master Perry and bowed respectfully. “The Firesong Girls and I wish to accompany you to the fortress. It is my duty as a princess to protect my subjects, and I cannot do that from a palanquin. You’ve trained the boys well back when they rescued me from Doofus Khan’s evil clutches. I will repay the favor.”

Master Perry stared off into space, several vibrations rippling through the air.

“Is that an attack?” Gretchen asked. She pulled off her sash, looping it around her hand and twirling the other end in the air.

“Stand down,” Isabella ordered. “He’s having a flashback. Just wait it out.”

Gretchen reluctantly obeyed.

A few seconds later, the rippling dissipated and Master Perry bowed.

“He’s done, hopefully,” Isabella said. “Phineas mentioned he has a habit of doing this. So, guess we’re heading due north now. Do any of you know where we can rent some camels?”  

Master Perry gestured for everyone to follow him.

“Who’s ready for more travel music?” Ginger asked. She tuned her lute, smiling brightly as she strummed a chord.  

“NO!” Millie and Holly screamed.

“Hehe, the salamanders are doing opera,” Adyson giggled.

o-o-o-o-o

Turns out Master Perry knew a faster way to transport them to the fortress. One that involved a massive red dragon that resembled the ones at Chinese New Year (but since it’s China, they just call it New Year), but much larger, more metallic, and without relying on people’s feet for an energy source.

“Master Perry! So good to see ya! Finally come out of retirement, I see! ‘Bout time! Never approved of you giving up on saving China after one little incident,” a jovial woman exclaimed. “And you brought an entourage this time! Name’s Glenda, so don’t forget it! What brings you girls to the Dragon Train?”

“We’re going to Doofus Khan’s fortress to rescue our friends. But isn’t this a little advanced for 1542?” Isabella asked, pointing to the giant dragon that Glenda called a ‘train’.  

“Yes, yes it is,” Glenda said, her eyes widening. “Did you say Doofus Khan’s fortress, girlie? Don’t you know that place is inescapable? I deliver supplies there myself. Don’t look at me like that, a woman’s gotta make her living somehow.”

“It’s only inescapable because nobody’s ever tried it before. It’ll be completely escapable by the time we’re finished,” Isabella said.

Glenda slapped her knee and laughed. “I like your gumption, girlie! Climb aboard! It’ll take twenty minutes to get there, so just kick back and let the Dragon Train do the work.”

“Twenty minutes? That’s so fast! And I was planning on a day and a half’s hike,” Gretchen said.

“It’s coal-powered,” Glenda shrugged. “Convenient for us, but makes a heck of a mess in the air. Ah, well. Problem for a future century.”

“I’m game!” Adyson shouted, snapping out of her salamander delirium. “Never been on a train before, but who cares? Better than relying on ox jerky!”

“Man, I would’ve packed my mahjong board if I’d known we’d be taking a train,” Holly grumbled.

Isabella turned to the north, signaling Gretchen and Ginger to wave their fans behind her and produce a dramatic wind. “My name is Princess Isabella, and we’re going to defeat you once and for all, Doofus Khan! You won’t pillaging anything by the time we’re through with you!”

[lachlann-macnab]

Task #16 Jukebox Musical/TV or Movie Soundtrack: come up with a playlist of at least 10 songs, write a scene summary to go with each one. Disclaimer under the cut.

Disclaimer: I, once again, decided to abuse the system. Nowhere on the prompt does it say that the scenes have to be related to a character I have, that's why I present to you: "The prompt, but short stories done with characters Jean would love to write but doesn't have the time to actually have".

Also, weeb rights.

*King  (English cover) -Will Stetson John Kingsbury 

Watch your back no warning warning Taking all my stress there's only just one thing to do Brace yourself for all my love's attack now Left side right side Bear your fangs it's time to fight Pa - pa - pa parade in shame tonight Left side. Right side. Bear your fangs and come alive Pa- pa - pa, Hah! You are king!

Mother always did like Richard best. 

Screw that, everyone always did like Richard best, even John liked his brother more than he liked himself. Even so, when he had been declared MIA during a mission with The Order, John quickly became the first option (the only option) for everyone -he was on cloud nine.

His new comrades didn't quite like him, but John didn't quite mind since he'd make sure that by the end of that year they'd be kneeling to him. Just  like he'd make sure that Richard never, ever came back, even if that meant making allies with a certain policeman and some Magicks whose information he'd make sure to erase from The Order's databases.

Pa, pa- pa Hah! He was (finally) King!

*La mer - Julio Iglesias cover  Basil Rathbone 

Mrs. Judson would have never expected to hear Julio Iglesias, of all things, coming from the flat. It was a strangely cheerful song for someone like Basil to hear, being the snob (not only musical, but general snob) he'd always been.

She was unsure about whether she really wanted to open the door, suddenly afraid of what she might find on the other side. Sometimes Basil would be immersed reading files upon files upon files, sometimes he would be languishing on the sofa while staring blankly at the roof, sometimes he would be walking around while talking to himself in a very obvious bout of mania -he was a wild card, that Basil, and the fact that she simply couldn't guess what he'd do next always worried her.

Worried as she was, she opened the door.

She found Basil staring at the portrait that hung just above the chimney, just...watching it. 

"I have always quite admired Le Carré's works" Basil merely said, without even looking at Mrs. Judson and instead keeping his attention on his own personal Karla while the song went on and on, silently hurting in all of the right places.

*Everybody loves me - OneRepublic  Kuzco Apaza

Get down, Swaying to my own sound Flashes in my face now All I know is everybody loves me Everybody loves me

Kuzco was on a roll. 

He felt the stares as he made the street his personal catwalk and kept (very loudly) chatting with his lawyers on the other side of the phone. The sun was shining surprisingly strongly that day (surprisingly for that side of the world, that is), it's rays hit his jewelry and clothes and made him shine almost as strongly as the star itself.

There was no way anyone could ignore him. And he couldn't blame them -he was fabulous! A gift of the gods themselves, almost as brilliant as the sun and twice (no, thrice) as charming!

...and he was shouting his plans to build a waterpark on Atlantis Lake. And, sure, people didn't seem to love the idea quite yet, but...?

At least they were staring. And they'd eventually learn to love him.

*Dramaturgy (English cover) - Will Stetson Hans Westergård 

All alone now no one’s looking, act out in greed deceiving all their eyes But there’s no real me that You’ll find if you believe and I can’t find a single role that showed what’s really there to see

He caught the eyes of his reflection by accident.

Hans had tilted his head and his eyes had almost immediately found his own reflection against the showcases, making him forget about his date (what was her name again? He couldn't, for the life of him, remember that but he certainly did remember how much her net-worth was and which medicines she needed to take at what hours of the day, just like her previous beau had needed to do before the "accident" had happened) and focus instead on his own eyes.

The thing is...he couldn't find anything in there; The baby blue went on and on but there was nothing beyond- behind it-

-when he moved his gaze, however, he found that he was smiling even if he didn't felt like it. And that his carefully selected clothes looked as they had been designed just for him to wear (and they had), and that his globed hands were still holding his date's recent purchases inside the yellow bag even if he found every item utterly tacky and a ridiculous expense.

He was smiling and looking good and doing perfectly. So why did finding his own gaze him the same effect as placing a mirror in front of another, creating a ever going loop of emptiness?

Was he not playing his part correctly? What could possibly fill that void?

*My Neighbor Totoro/Azumi Inoue Music Box ver - R3 Music Box Totoro Seishin 

Totoro decided to take a nap under the sun while Chu and Chibi were busy playing with some squirrels. It was a sunny day and there was no place he'd rather be but outside, basking and feeling the grass under him.

At one point, however, he felt some extra weight on him. He didn't feel like moving or particularly offended by something deciding to lay on him, it was just amusing.

He couldn't be bothered to open both eyes, so he only opened one, finding a sleeping girl against his chest as if that was the most normal thing to do.

He smiled, closed his eye and decided that was quite fine by him.

*Delusion Girl - Oktavia Cover (TW Suicide and Mental Illness) Bernard Newhart

Every hero knows when they’re needed, so, that’s just what he’s born to be A man who manages throwing out his hand, Who doesn’t care if his own life is spared Such a feat like that, it’s a selfless act only completed in dreams And it stays like that for me With a crash I’m trapped back in reality

Bernard wanted to help, he really did. He just...didn't always know how. Nor did he know if it really matter.

His partner always seemed to be five steps ahead and the Australian she'd taken a fancy to was just like her, if not a couple of steps ahead of even her. And it made Bernard feel like a third wheel, to question if he was really doing something worthy, if he had done something, anything sufficiently good ever and-

-he caught the girl's cellphone before she ever noticed it had slid out of her hands. And soon enough he was getting hugged and receiving many 'thank you's and- and maybe that was enough?

*The Lost One's Weeping (English Cover) - Will Stetson (TW   Depression) Martin Ambrosius (Merlin)

And no matter how much time passes us by, We’re drunk on sweet and hypnotic lies. With all our sources of hardened pride We try to erase and hide now

Martin would always act indignant at the question, and would always reply with a 'I am under no obligation to use my magic to explain or prove anything to the likes of you'.

He was Merlin's blood, for fuck's sake! He didn't have anyone to prove anything to save for maybe the Once and Future King himself!

Oh how he hoped, deep, deep inside, that he would never wake, that he would never ask any questions, that he would never do anything but keep dreaming his mythical dream and let him live his unmagic life.

He was a showman, he loved smoke and light and mirrors, he could fool anyone, anytime -but he knew that wouldn't be enough if (when) the time came, that the Once and Future King would need an actual advisor, an actual wizard.

He prayed that day never came to pass.

*When you're evil - Aurelio Voltaire Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz

It gets so lonely being evil What I'd do to see a smile Even for a little while And no one loves you when you're evil I'm lying through my teeth! Your tears are all the company I need

"Ah, Perry the Platypus! Don't shake too much or you'll make the laser sharks angry and- no, hey! the insurance doesn't cover laser damage to the roo- yeah, that's better thank you. You might be wondering what this is all about- you see, noone has decided to play ME so far so- BEHOLD, THE HEINZ DOOFEN-INATOR! (patent pending) WITH THIS DEVICE I SHALL HIJACK ONE UNLUCKY ROLEPLAYER'S DRAFTS AND SLOWLY BUT SURELY CONSUME THE WHOLE THING THEN THE OTHER POSTS ON THE DASH, THEN THE WHOLE BEING DISNEY PAGE, THEN- HEY! HEY, DON'T DO THA- I'M NOT DONE WITH MY EVIL MONOLOGUE!"

*DEAD HAND - anakin ft. IA English (Ferry Cover)  (TW  Nuclear Warfare mention) Major Francis Monogram

Oh this is overwhelming, time for the iron curtain call The panic is seeping through the fractured border wall My livid heart powers this reactor core “Oh this is all wrong” but I don’t mind at all Turn up the volume, execute the protocol You know it’s M.A.D. and it’s all about to blow What an unfortunate way to end this show I shed a tear as you vanish in the snow

Francis had zero interest in dealing with anyone's shit (save for his own or his son's, that is) ever again; He'd done his time and the whole thing during the fucking Cold War had done a number on his nerves.

He still could remember how all seemed lost, an adequately mad situation (of Mutually Assured Destruction, that is) had come to pass and everyone in the HQ was losing his mind and running around like a bunch of headless chickens-

-until he very calmly pressed a couple of buttons and the thing was ok once more. Some people cried, some people laughed, some people shouted.

(Dramatic bitches, all of them. They didn't have to cause a scene just because of the fucking coffee machine)

That was one of many situations that made him love his retirement and not want to let go of it.

*Gasoline - Halsey (Captain) John Silver

You're part of a machine, you are not a human being With your face all made up, living on a screen Low on self esteem, so you run on gasoline

'Phantom limb pain' sounded way cooler than it actually was. Silver would rather call it 'a pain in the ass' any day, but that'd be a misnomer since what hurt was his stupid (lack of) arm and not his ass and he was not risking some smartass trying to make a joke about his butt, thank you very fucking much.

Like, fuck, 'phantom pain' could be a sick name for a metal (heh) band. And hiding things inside his prosthetic was one of the few perks the whole thing offered, just like the fact that he could smack people with the thing without having to bother about hurting himself or dealing with that pain.

However, during that cold night he couldn't think of any possitives about the damned thing and cursed his rotten luck, his (lack of) arm and the thoughts that came along with them.

[signor-signor]

So when I said I’d have characters from DTVA shows that are/were superior in Disney’s eyes explain why Wander Over Yonder should be saved, I meant it. I do have a few in the pipeline, and they’re all dialogue-based. I have at least one that’s pretty verbose, so I thought I’d save me the trouble of drawing for now and share what I have for a certain man from Gimmelshtump.

Doofenshmirtz: Hello, remember me? Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz? Well, now I’m an agent working for OWCA because, well, in case you forgot, I was once raised by ocelots, and when I gave up villainy, Major Monogram recruited me and I teamed up with Perry the Platypus and a few other animal agents.

Now, let’s get to the point, shall we?

WHY DOES WANDER OVER YONDER STILL NOT HAVE A THIRD SEASON?! Craig McCracken specifically said he planned out an origin story for Lord Hater, but Disney downright denied him the privilege after two measly seasons! As a former villain who’s got so many backstories and a chance to tie loose ends with his teenage daughter, I find the idea of premature cancellation absolutely infuriating!

I mean, don’t you think we deserve to know how Lord Hater met Commander Peepers and formed an army of Watchdogs? I think his story would be more epic and way better than mine. Only Craig and the people who worked with him know how it all went down.

Also, what about Dominator? Are you going to let her walk alone in that orbble forever? She’s still a black-hearted extraterrestrial, and I’m pretty sure she’s still hungry and angry, or as people are now calling it, “hangry,” and she’s probably in need of a fresh new set of clothes.

Dominator (from inside the orbble): I HEARD THAT, POINDEXTER!

Doofenshmirtz: And FYI, she’s NOT one of my -inators.

[rkivepacks]

TITLE: In the blurry memories from the other side of my dreams Originally posted on: AO3/dtgloss Pairing: taekook/kookv/vkook (Kim Taehyung & Jeon Jeongguk) Rating: PG13 Genre: Fluff Word Count: 2,889 Trigger Warning/s: Swearing Disclaimer: Title is from Lucid Dream - Monogram. This work is solely from the idea of the author. Should there be similarities with the works of other respected artists are purely unintentional. This also do not reflect on the real lives of the artists portrayed in this work. Comments, suggestions and any other concerns are accepted in my inbox. Thank you! 

[See all works here]

Summary: Jeongguk, Taehyung learns, has a habit of cancelling plans. Plans that were predetermined by Taehyung’s dreams. In his defense, he was not aware that Taehyung has these kinds of dreams. Jeongguk, Taehyung learns, can prove that habits, in fact don’t die hard. or the au where taehyung’s dreams become reality and jeongguk accidentally stops them from becoming a reality until one day he doesn’t that nobody honestly asked for

He remembers this. He learned the difference between deja vu and his dreams when he sees them, or dreams about them, rather. Taehyung would like to think it just happened and not some kind of accident where he hit his head and suddenly he happens to dream about things that eventually becomes real or some asteroid shit he stumbled upon when he was thirteen suddenly gave him his supposed talent. He noticed the pattern when his dreams become real, and he admits quite a handful cant be that pretty. He also learns how to use them to his advantage.

Like that one time he had a dream where his boyfriend in twelfth grade had dumped him. He had four days to prepare himself from the classic ‘it’s not working out’. Or that one time he saw Jimin getting into a compromising situation, prompting his best friend to be careful if he won’t let Taehyung stop him from going to that one club.

And this, he remembers. A dream he once had involves him performing in a theater, a full house at that. He remembers it being a musical. He also remembers the reason why he ended up as a performer is this. He also remembers the most memorable part of his dream - he was apparently romantically involved with the other lead actor who plays the role of the other half of his character.

However, this he does not remember. He does not get along with the said co-actor.

“He’s still salty not getting my role, hyung.” He grumbles for the second time when his Namjoon hyung insists the said co-actor was probably pining for him, because who the fuck goes behind your back and bad mouths about you to the director? Surely not someone who likes you, and your supposed other half as his dream told him. He feels quite betrayed that his dream did not tell him about the said asshole, or maybe he does not remember at all.

Taehyung eyes the milk he badly wants to have, weighing the pros and cons of having it the morning he needs to leave for the call time of his show that day and the consequence of being lactose intolerant before he runs up to his room to grab his bag. He reminds Namjoon of the tickets he reserved for them and that he put them inside his bag already because, hyung if you lose them I will strangle you with the curtains, and leaves his apartment.

Taehyung’s favorite part of being a theater performer is the adreline rush behind the curtains that just closed, signaling the end of the performance. It was a good mess, people congratulating each other, talks of the next performance, and the food. Taehyung was in the middle of texting his friends to wait for him in the lobby so they can all walk to dinner when Director Kang knocks on his dressing room, with people towing behind.

“Kim Taehyung, playing one of the main roles.” Said the director who introduced him to the three people standing near the couch inside his dressing room. One of them was also a director, one he recognizes from the plays he may have seen in the past, the stage manager for this very play he just performed in and -

“Jeon Jeongguk. He was supposed to play the role of Cunnings.” There was a hint of regret in Director Kang’s voice and oh, honestly.

“Really? Why didn’t you?” Taehyung asks just because, why the fuck?

“Minor accident. I insisted on pushing through with rehearsals but recovery will take up half of it.” Jeongguk explains, noticing the inner turmoils inside Taehyung’s head. “Congratulations by the way.” He offers to which Taehyung gratefully accepts with sincere appreciation.

This, Taehyung doesn’t remember. He feels betrayed by his dream because honestly, not informing me of this important information? Life threatening.

Taehyung finds himself explaining what took place in his dressing room to his friends because, Jimin, I could have saved him.

“What are you gonna do? Stop the car? Take the hit? Push him behind you?” Namjoon snorts, followed by a horrible rendition of his infamous line “Why did you do it?” from one of his plays before where he was stabbed and died.

The Performing Arts Theatre has a small community, they would see each other again. Just wait, soulmate.

_______________________________________

They had met sooner than they think. It was at the audition of the next major play for the First Quarter of next year. Going through heaps of aspiring actors aiming to earn a role for the major play.

Taehyung had a dream about this. Which is why he came prepared in the form of his best clothes he only wears for his dates. Namjoon thinks he is being a flirt and straightforward, to which Seokjin adds gayforward, Namjoon. Taehyung is gay as fuck. Taehyung thinks he is smart and Namjoon is a little bitch.

Which is why, Taehyung sits at the table with the profiles of the actors in front of him and Jeongguk to his right, in his all black glory. They have shared glances and notes in the first half of the auditions and Jeongguk even got him a water bottle that Taehyung contemplates bringing home with him, because you gotta save the environment and all that shit yadda yadda.

Taehyung had a dream about this. Jeongguk sitting across from him at the sizzling plate diner 2 blocks away from the theatre. Jeongguk talks about the newly-opened diner that was on its soft-opening that he wanted to try, and Taehyung doesn’t wonder why the other members of the panel were not invited because he honestly couldn’t care. Not when Jeongguk has been laughing at him as he blame Jeongguk for leaving him to work with an asshole.

“I met him also. Was a bit smug he got the role instead of me.” He chides.

“He sucks. I just hope he wouldn’t be in the first quarter productions.” Said Taehyung.

“You said you had a minor accident? That’s why you didn’t get to play my other half.” Taehyung bites his burger, still guilt-tripping his future man (he damn will be, Jimin. Watch me).

“I fell funny during dance practice. Therapy kind of took a long time and its compromising with rehearsals. I told them I could do it. Doctor said I’m annoying as fuck.” And maybe Jeongguk made up the last part just to see Taehyung laugh.

Taehyung can’t remember if he had a dream about this. But he doesn’t care. Not when they had to go back to the theatre to be in the second half of the auditions. Not when Jeongguk walked him to his car and got his number. Not when Jeongguk hugged him before he left. Not when he bursted through his apartment and hit Jimin’s back with the door knob and got hit by the slippers because sue him. He’s met the love of his life (My Dream, 2014), he’s happy. Contented--

Jeongguk also ignores the way he doesn’t feel guilty that his packed lunch soiled inside his bag just to get lunch with Taehyung. He also ignores the way Director Kang was looking when he said he had to be somewhere for lunch and had to quickly leave with Taehyung without them knowing. He also ignores the script he needed to memorize just to construct the first message to Taehyung.

“Taehyung what if he’s being nice. You work together.” Jimin says with a pout. The one where he’s honestly just trying to ruin Taehyung’s fun.

“My dreams said otherwise. She also said fuck you Jimin.”

“You knew each other for only a week.” Namjoon adds, breaking Taehyung’s train of thoughts where he had already planned their wedding, their honeymoon in Malta, their first two children named Taehan and Jungmin.

“He’s probably already taken or straight.”

“You’re paying for my fucking drinks tomorrow or I’m stealing your m&m’s stash” Taehyung makes sure of the threat with the force of the pillow he threw aimed at Jimin’s dick.

—————————————————————

“What’s your star sign, Tae?”

“Capricorn. Why?”

“I can trust you. Good to know.” Also good to know we’re compatible, Jeongguk adds.

“And you, Jeonniboy? You act like you’re an Earth sign.”

“Virgo.”

“Ah, kinky.” Taehyung inappropriately comments, making the two of them laugh in the middle of Burger King.

“I’d like to defy stereotypes for us virgos and prove we’re fun. Would you grant me the honor of having a drink with you this Thursday?” Jeongguk inquires, raising an eyebrow, getting too close for Taehyung’s health.

“Is that where you bring your dates?”

“Yeah I get them drunk and dump their bodies behind the bar. Don’t tell anyone.”

“You’re killing the person who’s willing to dispatch a dead body for you?” Taehyung tries his best to sound hurt.

“We’ll if you bring bleach I’ll reconsider.”

“Cut up the bodies and I’ll bring the plastic bag.” Taehyung sounds serious, earning a strange look from the table beside them.

Thursday morning comes too quick but Jeongguk doesn’t mind. He may have prayed for it to come quick but no one questions him aside from Yoongi, who has been judging him for being awake before ten in the morning.

His phone lights up with a message from Taehyung, saying ‘Mind if I bring friends? You can say no, I can tie them up and hide the keys.’ to which he replies with ‘as long as I still have your attention. And because I’m competitive, I’ll also come bearing gifts.’

Fast forward to the night they see each other, respective friends in tow, the group quickly falls deep into conversation. Taehyung sits in the outer part of the booth, with the excuse of having low control for peeing, and Jeongguk excuses himself to the bathroom and comes back to a different seat, now parallel to Taehyung. The two have been in a competition on who can stay sober the longest without having to stop drinking, and Taehyung never failed to give his attention to Jeongguk.

Their current game is a staring contest, where nobody won because Jimin just had to ask-

“do you want a separate table?” Really loudly, gathering the attention of everyone at the table, and snickering.

“Jimin, eat.” Taehyung warns, shoving a big chunk of bulgogi inside Jimin’s mouth, Hoseok laughing really loudly at him.

Jeongguk looks to his left where Yoongi sits, eyeing him that’s almost teasing.

“Hyung, also want one?” Jeongguk threatens, pulling a tight smile, as he picks up a rather bigger chunk of bulgogi.

The night ended with Jeongguk walking Taehyung, helping him pull a very drunk Jimin to his car.

“Designated driver?” Jeongguk asks as Jimin hit his head on the door and Taehyung nods. “Want me to drive you?”

“It’s fine I can manage. You need rest.” Taehyung shrugs, opening the door to his side.

“Text me when you get home.” Said Jeongguk, who later on adds, “please” earning a chuckle from Taehyung.

“You too, please.” And Taehyung would like to think he had a dream about this, of Jeongguk diminishing the space between them to place a kiss on his cheek, and he knows he did not imagine it when his body tilted back a little because of the force. He helpes Taehyung get inside, watching him drive away, before walking back to his own car where Yoongi had been waiting for him, threatening to leave with his car.

—————————————————————

Taehyung and Jeongguk have been locked up in the latter’s apartment since the latter had called Taehyung to come help him practice his lines, and Taehyung agreed, will always agree to Jeongguk’s wishes. They had been throwing lines back and forth, Taehyung looking down at the slightly tattered script while forcing Jeongguk to drop scripts.

“Hyung, do you want brownies?” Jeongguk suddenly asks.

“That’s not a part of the script.” Taehyung replies and Jeongguk throws the softest pillow. “You bake?” He gapes.

“Hell no. It’s pre-mix.” Jeongguk yelps as he gets a slap on his thighs.

The two has long abandoned the script and made a bee line towards the kitchen, where Jeongguk has started mixing the butter with the brownie mix and Taehyung sits at the counter top for moral support. His best role.

“Taste.” Jeongguk has his point finger covered in the brownie mix near Taehyung’s lips and the latter tries not to jump the opportunity that quick. “Good?”

“Tasty.” Taehyung wiggles his eyebrows, earning a chuckle and a flush from Jeongguk.

Jeongguk assigns Taehyung the task of mixing the batter while he prepares the oven only to turn around and catches Taehyung dipping his finger on the brownie mix and what seems to be not the first time he’s been doing it. Taehyung has his fingers mid-way to his mouth newly-dipped, covered in brownie mix when Jeongguk gets a grip of his arm, halting his actions causing Taehyung to jolt.

“Traitor.” Jeongguk grumbles playfully, contradicting his first action by guiding Taehyung’s hand to his mouth. And Taehyung, who got a slightly horrible hand-eye coordination, missed his aim a little, a slight whip of the mix getting to his chin, making Jeongguk chuckle. Taehyung, with flushed cheeks and brownies on his chin, aims to wipe it off with his free hand, and Jeongguk with his fast reflex catches his other arm, causing him to practically back hug Taehyung.

“I’ll get it for you.” Jeongguk mumbles, leaning down to wipe the mix on Taehyung’s chin with his own lips, pausing for two seconds, before moving closer to the corner of Taehyung’s lips.

And Taehyung is glad he did not dream of this. Glad he knew he was gonna make a little mess of himself. Glad that Jeongguk was there to clean up for him. Glad of his own way of helping Taehyung. And suddenly, Taehyung has 20 ideas of ending the script he was trying to write.

The smell of the butter pre-heating in the oven pulled Jeongguk away and he’s glad. He wouldn’t know how to explain his actions to Taehyung. “Set up the console?” He asks Taehyung as he pulled away, putting a safe distance between them, before grabbing the brownie mix and turning to the oven.

Later that night, the two (unsurprisingly) are sitting too close to each other, with Jeongguk sitting behind Taehyung, who was sitting between his legs, in an intense game of the classic overwatch. Hoseok comes home and sees the two in a slightly out of context position before turning on his heels quite fast, with the excuse, oh shit, I left my wallet at Yoongi’s. Jeongguk ignores how the back pocket of the older is bulging with his said missing wallet. He doesn’t care. He’s contented.

That night, Taehyung left his apartment with packed brownies and a kiss more secured than the one they shared earlier in the kitchen and Taehyung goes home with a bounce in his steps, wallowing in happiness while munching the brownies, swatting Namjoon’s hand when he tried to sneak a small piece, claiming they are pot brownies.

That night, Taehyung dreams of a laid back date with Jeongguk, going to see a much-anticipated play that was half and an hour away from where they are and a dinner at that damn diner that was still on it’s soft-opening. Taehyung wakes up in the morning with a to-do list that includes preparing his outfit and a rehearsal to attend to. The following night, Taehyung’s dreams include Jeongguk bringing him donuts and milk tea for a working breakfast while the two sit in another auditions, and another intense game of fortnite in his apartment.

————————————————

Jeongguk, Taehyung learns, has a habit of cancelling plans. Plans that were predetermined by Taehyung’s dreams. In his defense, he was not aware that Taehyung has these kinds of dreams. Jeongguk, as Taehyung’s dream told him, had rightfully brought him his donuts and a milk tea. However, Jeongguk couldn’t attend the second half of the auditions, as he needed to oversee the technical dress rehearsal of the major play of a close friend directing the said play.

————————————————

Jeongguk, Taehyung learns, can prove that habits, in fact don’t die hard. The former had sent him a text that says I’m picking you up, is thirty minutes enough? to which he replied sure, before screaming and scrambling for his closet in panic. Taehyung sure is wearing the outfit he has prepared the morning after he had the dream where they had a date.

“Where are we going, good sir?” He asks Jeongguk who chuckles.

“Just somewhere.” He shrugs. And Taehyung knows. Knows what they’ll do, where they’re going.

The night happened just as it did in his dream. Turns out the play they have seen was the one Jeongguk was overseeing that one time they had to cancel their second date (as Taehyung’s dream called it). However, Taehyung’s dream purposely left out the part where Jeongguk has his hand wrapped around Taehyung’s the entire time. Or the random kiss he received in the middle of the play (Taehyung swore he cried because of the scene). It also left out the part where Jeongguk stayed the night in his apartment, Jimin and Namjoon caught in the act of munching over his brownies, the one he baked with the person sitting beside him, arms wrapped around him.

[end]

[supermarket-flowers]

Phineas And Ferb S4 E49 Laughing Stock

THEME SONG PLAYS

INT. FLETCHER'S HOME -- DAY

(Phineas and Ferb are sitting on the couch, flipping through TV channels. A variety of shows (sports, music, documentaries, etc.) are displayed, each for a few seconds, until Phineas presses the remote to change channels.)

Phineas: (Sighs) There’s nothing to watch on TV. Got any ideas Ferb?

Ferb: (Ferb stays quiet, blinking back at him).

Phineas: Hey, that's a great idea! Ferb, I know what we're going to do today!

INT. -- FLETCHER'S HOME -- DAY

(In the garage, they begin to build their very own TV station: P&F TV. There are sounds of microphone feedback, construction, and Phineas cueing Ferb to hit the lights. Candace walks past and looks over into the garage. She then looks back again and sees stage lights and microphones. Isabella comes by and pokes her head around the garage door.)

Isabella: Hey Phineas, What'cha doooooin?

Phineas: Oh hey, Isabella. Ferb and I are building our own TV station to broadcast our new show, the P&F Show.

Isabella: Oooooo, that sounds so cool! Need any help?

Phineas: We need some people to work the lights and cameras. Know anyone who can help?

Isabella: Yeah, they should be over soon!

Phineas: Hey, where's Perry?

INT. -- PERRY'S SECRET LAIR -- DAY

(Perry drops down into his chair, and Major Monogram begins to speak.)

Major Monogram: Good morning, Agent P. The evil Dr. Doofenshmirtz is up to something new today. Your mission is to find out what he's up to, and if necessary, put a stop to it. Good luck Agent P.

(Perry salutes Major Monogram before the video is cut off. Perry uses a jetpack to leave the lair and fly to Dr. Doofenshmirtz's laboratory.)

INT. -- FLETCHER'S HOME -- DAY

(Candace walks past the garage and does a double-take. She sees Phineas and Ferb building something, along with a variety of TV equipment in the garage.)

Candace: Phineas! Ferb! What are you doing?

Phineas: Ferb and I are building a TV station for P&F TV. We're going to broadcast over the entire Tri-State Area.

Candace: Why?

Phineas: Well, we were bored, and there was nothing good on TV, so we decided to make our own show and possibly entertain the Tri-State Area as we're doing it. It's gonna be great!

Candace: You are SO busted! I'm telling mom!

(Candace walks away screaming for Linda.)

EXT. DOOFENSHMIRTZ EVIL INC. -- DAY

♪ Doofenshmirtz Evil Inc.! ♪

(Perry flies into Doofenshmirtz's lab. Doofenshmirtz turns around from his new -inator to see Perry.)

INT. DOOFENSHMIRTZ EVIL INC. -- DAY

Doofenshmirtz: Ah, Perry the Platypus. I'm glad you're here. Surprise! Do you like the trap? I call it the Wired Platypus. Anyways, you're just in time to witness my latest invention... my Connection Cable-inator! Which I shall demonstrate now.

(Doofenshmirtz has his robot, Norm, roll out about 5 TV's and a camera. The TV's are connected to the camera, so when the camera turns on, what is seen on the TV's is live footage. Doofenshmirtz turns on the camera and stands in front of it as a test drive, and begins to do a sort of TV check (if he is seen, heard, etc.). Doofenshmirtz then begins to explain to Perry the purpose of the Connection Cable-inator.)

Doofenshmirtz: You see, Perry the Platypus, I plan on taking over the entire Tri-State Area, and to do so, everyone who has television will see me, hear my message, and fear me, so that they will comply with me being their eternal leader. I will use my Connection Cable-inator which, when connected to my camera, will interrupt all TV broadcasts, allowing me to deliver my message all over the Tri-State Area.

(Perry looks at Doofenshmirtz with doubt, as his plans to take over the Tri-State Area with his -inators never work out.)

INT. FLETCHER'S HOME -- DAY

(Phineas and Ferb finish up their TV station and are ready to air live entertainment to the people of the Tri-State Area.)

Phineas: Alright, you ready Ferb?

(Ferb gives Phineas a thumbs up)

Phineas: You ready Isabella?

Isabella: Ready!

(Isabella cues her Fireside girls to turn on the lights, clean up the garage, set up the broadcasting stage for Phineas and Ferb.)

Isabella: In 3, 2, 1, you're on the air!

Phineas: (to the camera) Hello good people of the Tri-State Area! My name's Phineas, and this is Ferb, and we're gonna sing a song.

(Phineas begins singing the clean version of "I Got a Feeling" by the Black Eyed Peas. The TV channels in people's homes and in the stores displaying TV's are showing the P&F Show.)

INT. DOOFENSHMIRTZ EVIL INC. -- DAY

(Doofenshmirtz finishes up his -inator and prepares to broadcast live. He begins to tell Perry a sad backstory.)

Doofenshmirtz: Alrighty, there we are, the last bolt of my -inator! You see, I invented this -inator because this day has always been a lousy one for me.

(Doofenshmirtz begins to tell Perry the Platypus a sad backstory. He doesn't realise that Norm accidentally presses the live button for the camera, with the -inator, causing all TV stations to crash, and only Doofenshmirtz is shown on the TV.)

Doofenshmirtz: It all started in Gimmelshtump. You see, when I was a teenager, all I wanted was a laptop. But my parents could only afford one piece of technology, and they gave it to my brother, Roger, because he was my parents' favourite child. And so I shall now take my revenge and show everyone that nobody makes fun of HEINZ DOOFENSHMIRTZ!

(Doofenshmirtz quickly realizes once he has finished talking, the camera is rolling live. All of the TV broadcasts are interrupted and just show Doofenshmirtz telling his sad backstory. People look confused and begin to giggle, they cannot take it seriously that Doofenshmirtz plans to take over the Tri-State Area. Phineas and Ferb look confused, as their TV broadcast is shut off as well.)

INT. FLETCHER'S HOME -- DAY

Phineas: Hey Isabella, what's going on?

Isabella: I don't know, it seems like some German doctor thinks he's going to take over the Tri-State Area or something.

Phineas: (Blinks out of pure confusion).

Phineas: Oh. Ok.

INT. DOOFENSHMIRTZ EVIL INC. -- DAY

(Doofenshmirtz cuts off his camera, and inadvertently, cuts off all broadcasts for the day. He understands that no one is taking him seriously as he can hear laughing all around him. He sets Perry free: his plan failed and Perry didn't even need to stop him.)

Doofenshmirtz: (sighs) Here you go, Perry the Platypus. Go on, go.

(Perry looks confused but accepts the unusual and kind gesture to be freed. He nods at Doofenshmirtz, and uses his jetpack to ride back home.)

EXT. TRI-STATE AREA -- EVENING

(Candace drags her mom to a store with TV screens to try and bust Phineas and Ferb. She arrives a second too late, when the broadcasts are all cut off. Linda only sees black screens and nothing else.)

Linda: What am I supposed to see here, Candace?

Candace: But, but, bu-bu-bu.... (Groans annoyed) OH NEVER MIND! (Sighs)

Linda: Come on honey, let's go home.

(Candace walks home sadly: she didn't bust her brothers. Doofenshmirtz is also sad his -inator didn't work properly and he embarrassed himself in front of the entire Tri-State Area.)

END CREDITS

[jeannereames]

Could you comment on kasta tomb? Is the excavation still ongoing? Has there been new discovery/hypothesis/debate? For a while it was all over the news then it fizzled out. Google searche only surfaces old articles. What's the academic consensus, if any, regarding whether it was a dedication to Hephaistion?

 Okay, so, for the TL;DR crowd:

1)    The excavation is more-or-less on hold due to lackof funding (like a lot of excavations in Greece).

2)    No new discoveries for reason 1, plus the usualquagmire in Greek archaeology of access to a site and turf wars. But, thesethings also take time.

3)    It wasn’t a dedication to Hephaistion. I don’tknow an academic (outside the excavator’s team) who genuinely believes it was. Attachingit to H. (or any other major figure at ATG’s court) is part of the usualattempt to get media attention (and funding).

Let’s start with #3, which will in turn answer #s 1 and 2.

First rule of archaeology: gold and famous names raise money.It doesn’t matter how important one’s discoveries actually are for the field,it matters how well the lead archaeologists can market what they’re finding topeople/gov’t with funds. Sometimes really good (non-gold) artwork also can beused for attention.

Witness how the archaeologists at Bethsaida (Israel) havehandled the finding of an iron-age stele w the image of the moon god in a “highplace” in the gate. This is *really cool*, given the date (900s?). But do theytalk about its rarity, etc.? Oh, hell, no. The email I got from Rami pointing to anarticle about the find from Israel’s Jerusalem Post announces, “Archaeologists identify citygate from time of King David.”

Famous name! Especially in Israel.

Now, compare: “Large Looted Tomb from Hellenistic Period Foundin Northern Greece,” or “Archaeologists Report they may have Found the Tomb ofAlexander the Great’s Mother/Best Friend/General…etc.” Now, which of those isgoing to get anybody to read the article? :-D

That’s how you get media attention (and hopefully, money tokeep digging, as archaeology is EXPENSIVE). Yet if the claim turns out to bebogus/unsupported, the media attention goes away or can even turn against theexcavator. If/when the first goes down, sometimes the team tries to come upwith other exaggerated explanations to maintain that spotlight, but this canjust dig the grave deeper.

So, why couldn’t this tomb be Hephaistion’s?

First, there are other burials in it—five people to be exact.Were it a monument for Hephaistion, it would be a cenotaph, not a tomb (hisbody was burned in Babylon), and it would be solo, not have other people there.Macedonian Tombs come in two basic types: solo and family. We do have otherfamily tombs (most famously, the Tomb of Lyson and Kallikles, excavated byStella Miller-Collett), and this appears to be similar to that. So attachingthis tomb to Hephaistion faces the immediate problem of, “Uh…other people?”

(Couldn’t they be his surviving family? Well, maybe, but it’sstill really weird. Trying to argue such a thing would be better called “reaching.”*grin*)

The presence of an older woman in (if I recall right) her60s, led some to propose it was Olympias in there—except, again, other people,plus we know (from ancient testimony) that Olympias was buried in Pydna (whereshe was murdered on Kassandros’s orders). So it’s also not Olympias. BothOlympias and Hephaistion are important enough that they’d have merited a solo,not family, tomb. (And most all of Olympias’s family were killed and buriedelsewhere.)

Another name put forward is Nearkhos, one of Alexander’sgenerals, who had land in the Amphipolis area. At least he is a possible candidate,although the tomb might be too late for him (but he sure as hell would have hadthe money for it). Like our Macedonian soldiers, Lyson and Kallikles, Nearkhosmight have sought to establish a family tomb. Again, it’s a reasonablepossibility, just a question of whether the tomb is too late.

Back to Hephaistion (and why it’s not him)…

The argument that it is rests on the presence of some graffiti on stones. First, the graffiti does NOT name Hephaistion (that’s an interpretationby Peristeri and her team). Second, if this were a tomb memorializing such animportant person, why on earth would it be indicated by graffiti?

The graffiti says “arelabon” followed by the letters Eta andPhi (and maybe a sigma?). Peristeri has turned that into “parelabon” and “Hephaistion”:received by Hephaistion. Problem: “arelabon” appears twice, missing thenecessary “pi” in both cases. While missing letters in inscriptions is hardlyunusual, missing the same one in two different places is odd. I’m not going toplay with that further, just leave it for true epigraphers. (I’m aprosopographer, so I deal with epigraphy only occasionally and largely withnames.) What I really want to kick to the curb is the idea that the letters area monogram for “our” Hephaistion.

My current research work involves epigraphical occurrences ofHephaistion, as well as other Hephais-based names in both their Attic-Ionic andDoric forms. Trust me, there are a LOT of names that start with Eta-Phi, evenbeyond Hephais-based names. But even if this meant “Hephaistion” the nature ofthe graffiti itself suggests somebody working on the tomb: an architect,mason, or other craftsman—not the person for whom it was made. We find suchcrafters marks on pottery, bronze, etc. (We also find such etched names on dedicationsin temples, but I don’t think that applies here.)

I think if this was really referencing Hephaistion Amyntoroshis full name would have been given (not a monogram), and it would be a lotmore prominent within in the tomb.

Furthermore—and one of our eternal problems with IDingMacedonian tombs—is that, unlike many figured tombstones (stele), Macedoniantombs usually DON’T name the dead person buried there, even when we suspect theymay portray the dead persons image (like the Tomb of Judgement at Lefkadia).The Tomb of Lyson and Kallikles is unusual. Instead, we get names like the Tombof Judgement, or the Tomb of the Palmettes. The Tomb of Eurydike was calledthat by later archaeologists; there’s absolutely no indication that it belongedto Philip’s mother. It’s almost certainly a woman’s tomb, but that’s about allwe know.

And oh dear, wouldn’t the whole Royal Tomb II at Verginadebate be SO much simpler if there was actually a flippin’ name on the tomb?!There’s not.

Identifying who’s buried in a tomb is REALLY HARD. Itdepends on dating, objects, and probabilities.

So yeah, some craftman’s graffito on the Kasta Tomb means zilch,except that he got his wish and has been spoken of by posterity.

So…trying to turn this into a cenotaph or tomb ofHephaistion is a pile of …wishful thinking. 😉  It’d be cool if it was…but it’s going to takea LOT more evidence to make that claim (not to mention explaining the 5 peoplein there).

Another problem is trying to DATE this sucker.

Those who want to tie it to Alexander more directly are desperateto make it early Hellenistic, despite clues to the contrary ranging fromarchitecture to the gown style of the Karatids. I’m not an art historian, so Iwon’t dig into that. I’ll simply point to one thing I found extremely curiousbut have not seen anyone (yet) address: the use of blue in the mosaic.

Now first, no silliness please about the Greeks not “seeing”blue; that was going around the internets for a while. Yes, they saw blue! Butthe color palette common to painters like Apelles in the late Classical period weremore earth tones. (Again, not an expert. I’m just gonna point to the word ofOlga Palagia, et al. Go and read Olga.) We find these colors in the pebblemosaics at Aegae (Aigai) and Pella, as well as Dion, et al. Even in thebeautiful Persephone painting in Tomb I and Aegae/Vergina.

The first time I saw that BLUE in the Kasta Tomb mosaic, itreally struck me. Unfortunately, art historians tend to catalogue mosaicsby how they’re made, not the colors in them, so I haven’t been able to track thisdown further, except to say that I, personally, have not seen an early Hellenisticpebble mosaic in Macedonia that used blue pebbles. Maybe there’s one hiding ina museum basement somewhere, but these mosaics are pretty spectacular and tendto be shown off. Blue as a color in mosaics is later, showing Egyptian influence.It’s also seen more in tessera mosaics than pebble, which were going out ofstyle by the Roman era. (I think the last datable pebble mosaic is from Delos,1st century BCE—again, Olga.)

So given the use of blue in that mosaic, I’d prefer to see adate that’s mid-Hellenstic at the earliest.

Ergo, we’re probably looking at the family tomb of animportant Hetairos during the Antigonid Dynasty. That’s my best guess.

Incidentally, pointing to the 4th century AmphipolisLion and saying, “Well, it was on top, so the tomb must be 4thcentury!” is horrible methodology. Something stuck on the top of thetomb (which may or may not have been there originally) does not date the tomb. Evenif the lion had been inside, that doesn’t help. Let me explain with an example:

Just because you want to be buried with your great-aunt Bertha’sWWII WAVE wings does not mean that *you* fought in WWII. 😉 It means you were buried with an antique. Sothe presence of the lion means only that the tomb probably can’t date BEFOREthe 4th century lion. That doesn’t mean it can’t date afterit. In fancy archaeologist-speak, the Amphipolis Lion provides only a “terminuspost quem” (earliest date for X), not a “terminus ante quem” (latest date for X).

[perryshmirtz]

82? "I'm with you, okay? Always." c:

okAY so apparently I'm in an angst mood tonight?? So... take this, I guess... this is probably nothing like what you were expecting lol

"I'm with you, okay? Always," Heinz said, leaning over his shoulder to say it. "I've got your back!" He and Perry were facing away from each other, both in fighting stances, surveying the horde of LOVEMUFFIN agents around them. Perry churred his agreement, then gestured at the agents. You take the right side, I'll take the left? Heinz nodded, and they leapt away from each other at lightning speed.

Perry made quick work of the first two agents he encountered; he roundhouse-kicked one, then tripped him into the second agent. The next two each took a hard punch to the face, the third he slapped with his tail and sent reeling. All in all there were about a dozen of them, so Perry figured he could take down six and then help Heinz, who still wasn't quite as good at hand-to-hand combat as Perry was. Heinz preferred to fight with machines, which wasn't usually an option at OWCA.

He could hear one of the agents, who he recognized after a moment as Rodney, taunting Heinz. "Working for the good guys now, I see, Heinz? Admit it, you just stick with whichever side is winning! You can't even fight that w - ” Perry heard Heinz's fist crack into Rodney's jaw and shut him up. He grinned proudly and went after another agent, one of the first two, who was now trying to get back up.

It took less than a minute for the fight to end. Perry hopped off of the unconscious form of Dr. Diminutive and walked over to where Heinz stood triumphantly over Rodney. Heinz turned to Perry and said, "Well, looks like we won that one! Sheesh, did you hear Rodney? Going on and on about - " He paused when Perry raised one eyebrow. "What? Whaaat?!” Then it dawned on him. “Oh, you're referring to my backstories - I'll have you know, you seemed to think my backstories were very interesting!" Perry put up his hands defensively and Heinz laughed. "Well, guess we can call Major Monobrow and - ”

There was a deafening /crack/ and Heinz gasped, staggered forwards, and fell. Perry looked at Rodney - as soon as they'd turned their backs on him, he'd pulled out a gun. A /gun/. He spat blood out of his mouth, presumably from when Heinz had punched him, and laughed.

"I always hated you, Doofenshmirtz, but I could never act on it because you were on our side. You made the wrong choice when you joined OWCA," he sneered. Perry ran over to him and wrestled the gun from his hands. "Oh, little platypus, it doesn't matter now. I only put one bullet in it! I only needed one!"

Perry cracked him over the head with the empty gun and Rodney was out like a light.

He rushed back over to Heinz and tapped his watch frantically. Carl answered the call. "Agent P, how'd it go? Did you find their hideout?" Perry churred and pointed the watch at Heinz, who was clutching at his side and moaning in pain. "Oh my god! Monogram, we need to pick up Agent P and Doofenshmirtz, stat! Major Monogram!" The watch went dark, and Perry stared at it for a long moment.

"Perry..." Heinz said weakly. Perry snapped out of his stupor and reached out to touch Heinz's bloodied hand. "I'll be okay! I'll be fine. I've been... hurt before...” Perry mentally finished the sentence: but never this badly. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the blood. It was pumping out steadily and didn't show signs of stopping as it seeped between Heinz's desperately clutched fingers. Already, a pool of it was forming underneath him. Perry pressed on his hand, but he knew it wouldn't do any good.

"Perry the Platypus, I love you," Heinz said. Perry shook his head and ignored him. "No, please, I have to say it now. Look at me. Look at me, please," he begged, and Perry looked at him. There were tears in Heinz's eyes - there were tears in his own, but he hadn't noticed until now. "I love you. I... I've never loved anyone as much as I love you. These have been the best years of my life. I'm not saying it as a goodbye. Please don't look at me like that!" Perry nodded. "I'm saying it just in case. I love you."

Perry lifted his hands away from the wound long enough to sign, "I love you, too." Heinz laughed with delight. Perry wasn't sure if it was from the blood loss or just because the man was absolutely insane. Or if it was because he was insanely in love. He held his hands up again to sign one last thing:

"I'm with you, always."

They were found in that same position, Heinz sprawled on the ground, Perry's hands over his on his gunshot wound, both of them covered in Heinz's blood. Carl and Stacy were the ones to lift Heinz up into the helicopter; Perry wouldn't let go of him the whole way up, or during the flight. Nobody spoke. Heinz was unconscious the whole time; Carl did a quick bandaging job on his side, but it was nowhere near what he needed. Vanessa was waiting at OWCA headquarters (there was no way they'd take Heinz to a hospital and try to explain what happened to the doctors there), and she managed to pry Perry, who fought her weakly, off of him.

The two waited together for a long time while Heinz was in the infirmary. Nobody was allowed in, and nobody came out. Vanessa cried silently, although she wouldn't lift her head up to let anyone see her tears, and Perry sat next to her, staring at the blood on his hands. There had been so much blood...

Carl burst out of the infirmary. "Vanessa! Agent P! Good news!" They both sprang up from their seats. "He's alive! We got the bullet out and he's got an IV to replace those fluids. He's almost asleep, but you can see him if you want. Be careful though!" Neither of them heard the last sentence; they were already past Carl and in the infirmary.

"Dad!" Vanessa cried, running up to him. She grabbed Heinz's hand and squeezed it tight. Perry didn't get too close, just looked him over for a moment. He looked paler than usual and his free hand was shaky, but otherwise he seemed okay. The bandage around his middle wasn't bloodstained, so they'd managed to stanch the bleeding. He was going to be okay.

"Perry?" Perry met Heinz's eyes and saw his outstretched hand. "Come here." Perry didn't have to be told twice. He was at Heinz's side in an instant and held his hand in both of his own. "I'm going to be fine! Don't look so down in the dumps."

Perry nodded and pressed his bill to Heinz's hand. It was comforting to feel the electric pulse from his skin, even though it wasn't as strong as usual.

"I think I'll be staying home from the next few missions, huh? You'll have to go out without me." Perry shook his head. "What do you mean? You shouldn't stay home because of me! This is what you love, all the fighting and the missions. Don't stay home because of me."

Perry signed, "I love you." And then, after a moment, "I'm staying with you. Always."

Sentence starter prompts (send some please!!)

[raystart]

Step Back in Time with Ebbets Field Flannels’ Vintage Jerseys

More than any other major league sport, the history of baseball is intimately connected to graphic design. Think Yankee pinstripes, Dodger blue, and the Tigers’ Old English D. As a young boy growing up in 1960s Brooklyn, Jerry Cohen was well aware of that connection: While most of his friends were tearing open new packs of baseball cards in search of their favorite players, Cohen was focused on the uniforms, the logos, and the colors.

Fast forward to Seattle, 1987. Cohen is searching for an original wool baseball uniform to wear onstage while performing with his rock-and-roll band. When he finally realizes he’ll need to make it himself, he discovers a warehouse in Rockport, New York, with yards of baseball flannel dating back to the 1940s. Cohen made a few of his own jerseys, and before too long, people were asking to buy the shirts off his back. And Ebbets Field Flannels was born.

Three years later, Sports Illustrated highlighted the company, which quickly led to celebrity commissions from Spike Lee and David Letterman. Ebbets Field Flannels provided jerseys for 42 (the Jackie Robinson biopic), and outfitted Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford, and other Hall of Famers at the closing ceremonies for Yankee Stadium in 2008. A die-hard Mets fan who now oversees 22 employees, Cohen recently added football and hockey jerseys to EFF’s collection, but vintage minor-league and Negro-League uniforms will always form the heart of the lineup, along with those from the historic international baseball hubs of Japan and Cuba.

When you decide to create a “new” product, where do you start?

I’m not like most clothing designers who think, “What will people like next season?” I follow history. It’s my job to be a curator and accurately take a two-dimensional form—often a black and white photo—and turn it into a three-dimensional form, which is a living, breathing piece of clothing. If I have any talent, that’s what it is.

I’m a little cagey on the subject of research; I don’t like to tell people about my methods because I have a lot of competition, and I’m not going to make it easy for anyone else. But I’ve collected a lot of reference materials over the years, and sometimes it’s very serendipitous—stuff comes across my desk and I follow leads, like any good detective.

What’s the most difficult thing about recreating these uniforms?

In many ways, it’s harder to do a simple thing than a complicated thing. Today’s graphic designers go their entire lives using Photoshop or Illustrator and many of them don’t understand the elegance and simplicity [of doing things by hand]. If you look at baseball graphics or athletic uniforms of today, the general approach is more—more colors, more layers, more of everything crammed into a very small space. But back in 1915 or 1945, it was the opposite; design literally meant someone drawing with a pencil in a sporting goods store, then someone else rendering that illustration into dies that were used to cut felt lettering.

Describe your typical customer.

When we started, there were still plenty of old timers who went to the games of the San Francisco Seals, let’s say, so that was our original market. Five or six years ago, we discovered a new market—much younger people who are driven by the craftsmanship of the products as much as they are by the history and the teams.

Now, our audience is much more diverse—we’re working with ACE Hotel and other contemporary brands [including Jack White’s Third Man Records], who seem to like our vintage approach. With so much cynicism in marketing—particularly in sports-related products—everything is so “of the moment,” but when the moment changes, all that stuff really seems obsolete. We try to sell timelessness.

Designers are always trying to connect people to brands, but it’s hard to think of a brand more powerful than baseball—simple letters and numbers and the words “New York” seem to add up to a lot more. True?  

That’s where the history comes in—putting the letters and the colors in the context of history, finding those touchstones, and even bringing a story to people that they may not be aware of. If you could describe the Ebbets approach, it’s not, “Here’s a Yankees hat like they wore in the World Series,” because that’s been done. From the beginning, back in 1988, it was, “Do you know about the Negro Leagues? Did you know this whole other universe existed and it was wonderful and rich, full of all these amazing characters?”

As historians, we’re always trying to find those little stories, so that every product we make has some emotional connection or historical resonance. It’s not always possible to discover all the details about some of the more obscure teams, but I always try to find one or two things, even if it’s just a couple of interesting statistics from an old class B minor-league team from the ’30s. Because you have to give people something to sink their teeth into, beyond a black hat with a white “A” on it.

In one interview, you point out how much you love design from the ’30s to the ’60s, and although you’ve considered creating uniforms from the ’80s or ’90s, you’re not in any hurry. What was it about that earlier era?

I’m sure there are people who would respond to something from the ’80s or ’90s just as powerfully as I respond to something from the ’50s. But to me, the ’80s is when designs became dispensable and transient, with polyester materials and logos changing constantly, so I tend to lose interest.  

Right around the ’70s is when you see regional domestic manufacturers get phased out of athletic garments, and big guys like Nike take over and it becomes more about marketing opportunities. Then the computer programs kicked in and everyone had to have their own Pantone color; it wasn’t just red anymore. We’ve recently started making more vintage collegiate uniforms and we have to explain to the schools that back in the day, there were really just seven or eight colors that everyone used; they didn’t make felt out of Harvard’s burgundy Pantone—those specs just didn’t exist. And there’s something I like about that.

It’s like playing music: Today you can have 64 digital tracks on top of one another, and the ability to make any sound you want, or you could hand someone an acoustic guitar and say, “You have to do it with this.” For me, it’s more interesting to work with a limited set of tools.

Today, no new professional sports team would choose to do something as simple as what the Yankees still wear: a one-color interlocking monogram. And yet, you can’t measure the value of that Yankees logo because it has 70 or 80 years of history behind it and it hasn’t really changed. I don’t mean to sound like everything was better “back in the day,” because that’s not true, but there’s something about American style from 1935-1972 that, for my taste, represents something really special.

You’ve been at this 30 years. Have there been any special moments when you were struck by the impact that your company has had?

The kind of people who buy our stuff are the kind of people I’d like to hang out with—experts in other fields. Early on, Spike Lee adopted us, before the Sports Illustrated article even came out—you’d open a magazine and see him wearing one of our Negro League jerseys. I remember opening up a copy of the Sunday New York Times, and seeing documentary filmmaker Alex Gibney in the section where they ask notable people what they’re watching and listening to, and under “What I’m Wearing” it says “Ebbets Fields Flannels”; I had no idea we’d be in the New York Times when I woke up that morning. I’m a huge Beatles fan, and 20 years ago Michael Lindsay, the director of the Beatles documentary “Let it Be,” called us out of the blue and asked to be put on our mailing list—and we still still talk to him. I love it when that sort of thing happens.

And of course, working on uniforms for 42 was a great experience for me personally. Jackie Robinson is part of the DNA of our company: Growing up in Brooklyn, my dad would tell me stories of Jackie Robinson and from there I learned about the Negro Leagues; it’s a springboard to everything we do. So getting to work on that movie, taking my dad to the premier, and seeing our work up on the screen—that was really special.

[themurphyzone]

Oneshot: Perry the Pomeranian

AU of Got Game? where Perry is a human. Yes, this is the episode where Heinz entered Perry into a dog show. 

Heads up: This whole scenario is a bit less innocent when two people are involved. I’m not really sure what to tag this as to be honest, If you think I should tag something please let me know, because some of this leans a bit towards roleplay. There will be lots of awkwardness and embarrassing situations! 

He didn’t get paid enough for this. 

Perry dragged himself into his seat for mission briefing, exhausted from climbing several long flights of stairs. Of course the elevator was broken. And just when he thought his equipment was in good shape that week. 

Major Monogram was already onscreen. He raised an eyebrow, and Perry slowly corrected his posture to make it look like he was paying the utmost attention. 

“There you are, Agent P. Sorry about the stairs, our elevator maintenance guy is on a corporate retreat with our slide-waxing guy,” Major Monogram stated. 

Liar. He didn’t sound sorry.  

“Anyway, our intelligence tells us that Doofenshmirtz has been shopping around for a show dog. We need you to infiltrate the pet store and uncover his evil plan. Carl, send him the mission outfit.” 

“Sending!” Carl exclaimed from offscreen. 

A containment unit rose from the ground, revealing a fuzzy ginger and cream onesie. A headband with floppy ears was attached to the front. 

Perry hated this mission already. 

“Anyway, I'm goin' home early. It's taco night. Ha-ha!” Monogram laughed. 

The screen faded to black. 

Perry folded the onesie, stuffing it beneath his coat so he could smuggle it into the house. 

And to smuggle it into the house, he needed to climb the stairs. 

The super-long, super-exhausting staircase of absolute madness. 

Perry sighed. 

The owner of the My Little Doggies pet store didn’t notice Perry slip in. She didn’t even question why there was an enormous Pomeranian by the front window. 

Perry had snagged a spare dog cushion and taken a spot where he would easily be visible to people coming in. Since most of the customers were only buying supplies for pets they already owned, Perry didn’t need to discourage them from purchasing him. 

He had to consciously resist wrinkling his nose at the idea of being purchased. 

He couldn’t smudge the makeup he’d borrowed from Linda’s kit. It took way too long to smear a passable imitation of a dog nose on his face. 

“Yes, I'm looking for a purebred show dog,” a familiar voice said. 

He must’ve missed Heinz coming in. Perry sat up to make himself more noticeable. This entire mission hinged on making himself appealing enough for Heinz to buy. 

“Well, we have various award-winning breeds to choose from,” the owner replied, gesturing to several dogs in their kennels. 

Heinz glanced over each of them, frowning when none of the canines seemed to meet his criteria. He opened his mouth to ask the owner another question, but paused the moment he saw Perry. 

“Ooh! What about him?” Heinz gasped, grinning madly as he tore across the room to where Perry was sitting. 

Perry kept his face impassive as Heinz’s long fingers stroked underneath his chin. 

Heinz wasn’t rough at all. His fingers were practically dancing across Perry’s skin. 

“He's perfect! Coochie-coochie-coo!” Heinz squealed as he tickled the faux fur on Perry’s chest. “You’re Doctor D's precious little puppy, aren't you?” 

Perry rolled his eyes. 

Heinz really needed to work harder on his evil credibility. 

“Sir, I'm not even sure if that's a dog,” the owner protested. She peered at Perry’s teal hair suspiciously. 

Perry froze. She’d blow his cover if he didn’t do something to make her believe he was a real dog! 

What would a real dog do? 

Perry’s eyes fell on a terrier who was sniffing a chihuahua’s butt. 

New question. What would a real dog do that would leave about seventy percent of his dignity intact? 

An idea finally came to him. 

He rolled onto his back, completely exposing his belly. It was risky to be in such a vulnerable position, but this would aid his goal in the long run. Heinz made a strange noise in the back of his throat, taking the invitation to vigorously rub Perry’s stomach. 

Perry kept a hand on his headband to make sure it stayed in place. Fortunately, Heinz seemed to view this as a cute gesture. 

“He loves belly rubs, and that’s good enough for me,” Heinz told the owner. “I get a big alimony check every month, so money's no object.” 

The owner rubbed her hands in glee. “In that case, he’s ten thousand dollars.” 

Once the transaction was completed, Heinz returned to nuzzling Perry. “Aw, who’s a little cutie? You are, yes you are!” he cooed. 

Perry turned his head away from Heinz so the makeup on his nose didn’t smudge from the face nuzzles he was receiving. 

Heinz broke off the nose-to-nose contact with a wicked grin. “You’re my ticket into the Danville Dog Show. Together, we’ll make them pay for all I’ve suffered.” 

Ah, a backstory scheme and not an eliminate-the-annoyance scheme. 

“Back when I was just a little schtumpel, my father came home with a brand-new spitzenhound puppy that he won in a game of Poke the Goozim With a Stick,” Heinz narrated.  “My father said the dog was like the son he never had...and named him Only Son.” 

Perry winced. Heinz didn’t notice and stroked him absentmindedly. 

“Only Son became an award-winning show dog, bringing my father fame and fortune, while I was forced to be the lawn gnome. You remember that story with my neighbor Kenny?” 

Perry tensed. Heinz was terrible with disguises! Why did today have to be the day Heinz recognized him? 

“ I don't have to go through...okay,” Heinz said. He straightened up, and Perry hesitated, unwilling to follow him off the cushion. He couldn’t scuff up his hands and knees by crawling around like a baby. It would be absolute murder on his back too. 

But at least his previous worry was unfounded. Heinz had already changed the topic. 

“To recap, my entire fragile self-esteem is totally dependent on your performance today at the dog show. You know, no pressure,” Heinz said as he exited the store. Realizing that Perry wasn’t following him, he frowned. “The dog show is that way.” 

“Sir, the city has leash laws,” the owner piped up. She clipped a red leash to Perry’s collar before handing the other end to Heinz. “That’ll be ten dollars.” 

“Extortionist,” Heinz muttered. He tossed a crumpled bill into her hand and stormed off, only to be tugged back by Perry’s refusal to budge. “Time’s a-wastin’, Puffy! You know what? I’m totally calling you that now. Puffy the Pomeranian has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” 

Perry balked. Anyone who chose to name another living being ‘Puffy’ was pure evil. 

A leash was sort of like a trap, right? Heinz had restrained him with more uncomfortable things before. 

Heinz smirked, as if that had been his brilliant plan along. 

Having enough, Perry decided to throw caution to the wind. He stood up and followed Heinz out the store, causing the owner to swoon and faint from the shock. 

“Oh, cool!” Heinz exclaimed. “You can do that bipedal thing like a secret agent! No idea where you learned that, but that gives us a leg up on the competition!” 

Perry allowed Heinz to take the lead, walking behind him at a comfortable pace. 

“So yesterday I was watching Ambivalence,” Heinz said. “It’s this show where the couple has this weird relationship and they’re constantly bickering over the most trivial things. Like who argues over how many chocolate chips you can put into a freshly baked cookie? Does anyone ever count those things? So in the latest episode, Troy was revealed to be an ancient Greek warrior who was flung into the future by Aphrodite and cursed so that he never could hold on to a romantic relationship again. Then again, it was obvious in hindsight. All the guy ever checked out at the library were books on classical mythology.” 

Intrigued, Perry didn’t interrupt him as Heinz explained the subtler bits of foreshadowing. He’d have to check out the show in his spare time. 

“No, no! It’s Heinz Doofenshmirtz!” Heinz snapped. “You know, rhymes with hurts!” 

“Heinz Doofenshultz?” 

“Doof. En. Shmirtz,” Heinz drawled each syllable. 

The attendant at registration raised an eyebrow. “I see,” she finally said. “Heinz Doofenshmidt, entering your bich…”

Perry prayed some random invention would fall from the sky on top of her, but that only worked when the person verbally invoking fate wasn’t expecting it.

“…on frise.”

“Puffy’s a Pomeranian,” Heinz retorted. “Not a Belgian freeze or whatever you just said.” 

“Isn’t he a little bipedal to be a Pomeranian?” the attendant asked.

“Yes, yes he is. So are we in now?” 

“Yeah, fine. You’re in the toy breed section.”  

The attendant quickly handed him a slip, obviously wanting Heinz to stop holding up the line. 

Oblivious to the angry glares he was receiving from the people behind him, Heinz marched off with Perry in tow. 

While the other competitors paraded their obedient dogs around for the judges, Perry watched Heinz for any signs of evildoing. 

“Don't worry about your lack of training and experience, because I have an ace in the hole!” Heinz exclaimed, pulling out a ray gun from his lab coat pocket. “Behold! The Misbehave-inator! It, Does what the name implies. Watch this!”

He zapped a poodle, who took a large chomp out of his handler’s arm. Other dogs quickly followed suit, and soon the arena was filled with screams as dogs filled the arena with holes and demanded subjugation from the humans. 

“Nothing can stop us now!” Heinz cackled. 

Taking that as his cue, Perry wrapped both of his hands around Heinz’s arm and threw him to the ground, forcing him to drop the Misbehave-inator. Perry snatched the device, then sprinted over to a rope that was attached to the upper level of the convention center. 

“Hey, what was all that about?” Heinz demanded, slightly dazed from the force of Perry’s throw. 

Perry ripped off the headband and replaced it with his fedora. 

“Perry the Pomeranian?” 

Rolling his eyes, Perry ripped off the Pomeranian suit, glad to finally be rid of it. Good thing he’d worn his blue collared shirt and brown slacks underneath. 

“Perry the Platypus!” Heinz yelped. He ducked his head, refusing to make eye contact with Perry. A blush spread across his face until his head vaguely resembled a misshapen tomato. “I named you ‘Puffy’...with the whole leash thing...and the cootchie-cootchie-coo stuff too, and...oh man, this isn’t being televised is it? Wait, were you wearing your normal suit under the Pomeranian outfit the entire time? Weren’t you hot with all those layers?” 

Leaving the question unanswered, Perry ascended the rope with the Misbehave-inator in hand. 

“Hey, bring back my Misbehave-inator!” Heinz shrieked. Perry felt the rope tighten as Heinz pursued him. “And you have some explainin’ to do, Mr. I Let My Nemesis Walk Me Around the City on a Leash Because I Have a Complete Disregard for His Evil Reputation!” 

Perry grabbed hold of the landing skid on a low-flying helicopter, smirking as he made his escape with the Misbehave-inator. Then something clamped down on his leg, and Perry quickly held the Misbehave-inator out of Heinz’s evil clutches. 

The device fired yellow beams all over the place as they grappled for control. Finally, Heinz threw himself across Perry’s chest in a last-ditch effort. But the helicopter shifted upwards, throwing Heinz off-balance when he overshot his desired prize. 

Heinz fell through the roof of the My Little Doggies store and landed in a dog kennel. 

Karma had never felt so good before. 

Many months later....

“Happy birthday, Perry the Platypus!” Heinz shouted, popping out from behind his couch. Of course, Perry knew he was there since stealth wasn’t Heinz’s strong suit, but he still pretended to be surprised. 

And it wasn’t actually his birthday, but everybody just seemed to pick a random day to celebrate it anyway, so he was used to it. 

Heinz slid a present over to him, unable to stop twitching as Perry carefully unwrapped the bow and opened the box. 

Inside was an exact replica of the Pomeranian suit he’d worn for the Misbehave-inator mission.

Heinz grinned innocently. “What? Ginger and cream really complements your skin tone!”