#mod leaf says

[tmntseparatedaucompetition]

Tentative Genocide Besties and Empryean Blood Mission got a perfect 50/50!!!

Thank you to everyone who has participated in this comp it was very fun :D

I'm planning on starting the new round section thing next June.

Masterpost

[tmntseparatedaucompetition]

i have n...

wait who has what

COKO, I FOUND, IT WAS M WE HAVE D, M, A AND E I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH IT

[daily-basil]

Don't be rude.

The sketch looked so much better........

[leaf4e]

[troublex8]

I hate Twitch moderation this chatter instills me with rage previously unbeknownst to man

[tmntseparatedaucompetition]

magnus please have mercy

ya'll can have all this if warriors heart either ties or wins todays poll

i'll also work on answering my asks

@tmntseparatedaucompetition

[yyokkki]

Riddle Rosehearts

A former city boy who ran away from home after refusing to become a doctor like his mother was.

Actually works as a lawyer at a small firm in the nearest town. He commutes by car and it's only a 30 minute drive with minimal traffic (thank god cuz his road rage is abysmal) but he works remotely on most days.

Is often found at the town saloon (the community centre after you fix it!) holding tea parties with Trey, Cater, Ace and Deuce or at the local library.

Loved Gifts: Strawberry Tart, Fairy Rose, Ruby, Universal Loves

"...Oh! Ahem, thank you farmer. Expect a return gift in the mail soon."

Hated Gifts: Eel, Clay, Royal Sword Cola, Universal Hates

"Ugh! This is unacceptable!"

Trey Clover

The local baker! His family runs a bakery in the city and he moved to NRV on his own to open another branch of Clover's Confectionaries.

He says the fertile soil and rich foragables make it the perfect place to gather ingredients on his own.

Rumour has it he runs a backdoor business for specialty toothpastes.

Is often found at the town saloon serving his pastries for Riddle's parties or at his bakery tending to his mini garden at the back.

Loved Gifts: Limestone, Pearl, Candied Violets, Universal Loves

"Thanks farmer! How did you know I needed this? ...I don't owe you anything, right?"

For Limestone and Pearl: "This is perfect! Now, to extract the calcium carbonate..." (Yes, for toothpaste)

Hated Gifts: Broken Glasses, Mustard, Universal Hates

"Oh... Uh... Thanks?"

Cater Diamond

A social media influencer and former travel blogger.

Used to travel a lot but decided to settle at NRV. He claims it's because the scenery and people are 'cute'.

Occasionally will go to the city with Kalim and Lilia to perform and hold concerts.

Is in a band with Kalim and Lilia, plays the guitar.

Is often found at the town saloon with Riddle, Trey, Ace and Deuce or in the town square chatting up the other residents.

Loved Gifts: Spicy Ramen, Diamond, Universal Loves

"Aww, you shouldn't have! #lucky #cutefarmer"

Hated Gifts: Anything Sweet, Clay, Universal Hates

"Aww, thanks but no thanks. #lame"

Ace Trappola

The local carpenter! Stays at Night Raven Valley with his older brother who he learned all his tricks from (bad and good).

Loves causing trouble and playing harmless pranks on the other residents (Deuce is his biggest victim), good at magic tricks too.

Plays basketball on sunny Saturdays with Jamil and Floyd.

The first character you meet, who was assigned with fixing up Ramshackle Farm. Shit talks your farm right to your face and holds no remorse.

Is often found at the town saloon at Riddle's tea parties or at the back on the arcade machines.

Loved Gifts: Cherry Pie, Cherry, Royal Sword Cola, Universal Loves

"Dwoes the wittle farmer have a crush on me~ Ack, I'm kidding!"

Hated Gifts: Clay, Oyster, Universal Hates

"Gross! Do you hate me or something??"

Deuce Spade

The local mechanic/handyman! He's self taught and lives with his mom, Dylla Spade who handles the deliveries in town.

Used to be a delinquent but has since turned a new leaf.

His passion project is modding the hell out of his motorcycle and hitting the roads.

Goes on runs with Jack every sunny Wednesday.

Volunteers at the Adventurer's Guild and takes requests from the board for security as his goal is to become a full time officer in the future.

Is often found at the town saloon at Riddle's tea parties or at the back getting obliterated by Ace in Junimo Cart.

Loved Gifts: All Eggs (Except Void Egg), Omelette, Battery Pack, Universal Loves

"Farmer! I knew you were a real one!"

For Battery Pack: "Thanks dude! I needed this for the finishing touches..."

Hated Gifts: Void Egg, Juice (He drinks it, it just reminds him of Ace), Bell Pepper, Universal Hates

"Hah? Oh, I thought you were pickin' a fight..."

---

TWST x SDV Masterlist

Tag List (Interact with the linked post to be tagged in future updates mwah)

[a-lilyinthevalley]

Blog Intro--

"...Did you miss me?"

Askbox: OPEN!

Storyline Masterposts! Arc 1 - COMPLETE Arc 2 - IN PROGRESS (will be updated eventually i swear) ("man. i should update these" i say as i walk away whistling) Arc 3 - Arc 4 -

The Universe is on your side, for once. Do not take Her help lightly.

Universe posts are found under the #* tag.

Discord Server :D

Doodles will occur at random (when I feel like it). I (Loaf) am actually a Lily apologist. This will affect how I play her character :3

Lily uses she/they pronouns! I use all, but I might list a preference.

Relationships Chart (under construction)

Mod is currently: I GOT MY STYLUS BACK WE STAY WINNING

Other blogs: @milkstar-galaxies - I caved. Made a Milky Way blog. Dramatic sigh. @fire-andspice - On a mission to get Bspice AT LEAST 5 partners /hj @a-sea-of-longing - SEA FAIRY IN MY HOUSE??? Yeah sure ok. @flebdoodle - Main blog!! Art 'n stuff prolly.

--Tags-- #lilytalks - in character posts #lilybloops - in character, non-canon posts #flowerbox - answering asks #loafcrumbs - ooc mod things #behind the vines - worldbuilding-type questions #elder prick - elder faerie was in charge of the blog for a bit :3 #* - The Universe, "Verse", says hello.

~~Story Tags~~ #just a dream - the events leading up to the silentlily breakup. #last leaf falls - INCONSISTENTLY TAGGED! The events leading up to the box and the things that take place inside. Kind of. #valley of shattered dreams - lily died. the anons said no. #eldfae's three r's - eldfae's apology tour #AoD Fucking Dies: the movie - the Archangel of Destiny battle.

^The current state(s) of the Ongoing Story^ FRAGMENTS FOUND: 3/6. Colored ones have been found :D

Mod uses CDT, if they're posting when they shouldn't be (anytime past midnight).... nuke them with anon asks telling them to sleep

Enjoy your stay!

^THE FRIDGE!^ Things I find funny will be added to it as the story progresses.

[pnfc]

here is some unresolved(?) perryshmirtz whumpfic(?), rated T. i call it “doofenshmirtz talks on the phone a lot”. idk if i’ll put it on ao3, it depends on if i continue.

disclaimer: in this fic the owca agents are brain-modded, for purposes of juiciness. typically i prefer that pnf is just a goofy cartoon world with smart animals.

EDIT: i'll leave this post up but i finished this, on ao3 here

---

“It’s actually a net good for society if you climb the trees, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz is telling Perry as they stroll the orchard path. He’s sagging a little under the weight of a basket they’ve mostly filled.

“See I know there’s that rule, ‘no climbing’. But that’s for the 8 year olds who fall and crack their heads open -- the emotionally unbalanced teens out to break an arm. Not for you, Perry the Platypus. Treehopping is a cakewalk for you. You’re like a ninja up there.”

Perry flips his wool scarf and surveys the lowhanging branches, pointedly ignoring Heinz. He vaults up to snag a Golden Delicious, dunks it square into the basket from over his shoulder, not looking. Heinz whistles, even as the impact buckles his knees. “That’s what I mean.”

He catches up to Perry -- “What about the apples at the top of the trees, Perry the Platypus, do you think of them? Nobody can pick them, so they rot on the tree or rot on the ground. No one comes to an orchard to pick apples off the ground.”

Perry signs: Two-year olds.

“Besides them,” Heinz insists. “That’s like a third of all the apples just going to waste, so nobody can enjoy them.”

Birds and bugs, signs Perry. Can enjoy them.

Heinz ponders this. “Maybe. But I can tell you they’d enjoy my fresh-baked strudel a lot more.”

Perry makes a “yeah, yeah” wave to brush off Heinz’s winning point. Heinz can see the smile curving up his bill from behind, as he walks ahead. “Hold up, Perry the Platypus,” he says. “I think we have enough.”

Heinz sets the basket down, intensely grateful to rest his arms, and Perry skips back over to survey their haul. An even mix of Jonathan, Smeralda, and Goldens. “The best for baking out of the October set, in my experience,” Heinz explains to Perry. “These Goldens look a little young, but I think they’ll cook up okay. Could also use them for a syrup, I’ve been meaning to try that.”

The walk back to the exit is when it hits.

Perry reaches out a paw and pushes it against Heinz’s leg, tentative. Then he wrenches the fabric into both fists, hard, and chirps, frantic. This makes Heinz stop.

“Perry the Platypus? What’s up?”

It’s like a hypnic jerk, the sensation -- a dizziness cresting over him like an ocean wave, a loudening roar of foam. Perry looks up at Heinz, finds his blue-ringed eyes wide with alarm, like his own. And he holds Heinz’s leg like it’s the last stable thing, as the wave swallows him up in a gulp, then silence.

Perry thinks I’m having a stroke, before he can’t think it.

“...Perry? You okay?” Heinz has dropped the basket and is crouching down to Perry’s level. “What’s wrong, did I forget something? We have enough apples,” he says, knowing that’s not the problem. “If you want more, you’re carrying and paying.”

Perry’s still linking his gaze with Heinz’s, clutching his knee like he needs it for balance. He chitters out an anxious exhalation. Heinz taps him on the bill. “Hey. You gonna clue me in here?”

Perry shakes off the touch and backs away from Heinz, pinwheeling his arms and toppling onto the ground. The scarf gets trapped under his forepaw, pulls taut around his neck -- then he’s racing forward in a panic, growling at a high pitch, through the red leaf litter, scarf trailing after and under him.

“Perry!” Heinz exclaims, craning around to follow Perry’s tracks -- he bumbles into the basket, shooting apples out like poolballs. “Settle down -- tell me what’s wrong, okay? You’re scaring me.” He pushes himself up. “And that’s not how you treat that scarf. That’s Merino, Perry, it took me weeks to knit. You’re grinding dirt into it.”

Perry halts, at the tail of Heinz’s upbraiding, and looks at him with saucer eyes. Heinz approaches him slowly, like he’s an animal he might startle away. But Perry doesn’t run, when Heinz leans over him -- actually seems to settle, as Heinz clasps his hands around his shoulders.

“Perry the Platypus.” His brown eyes blink. “What is going on with you?”

Heinz picks him up. “You’re going to have to say something,” he says. “Or I’m going to assume this is an emergency. Are your arms malfunctioning? One blink yes, two blinks no.”

This gets no blinks.

Heinz drops Perry into the basket and runs out to the parking lot -- dropping a 20 on the checkout stall as he does, to cover the apples still in the bottom of the basket. They need to get home.

The OWCA watch beeps while Heinz is driving, Perry basket-bound in the passenger seat. Perry jolts and lifts his paw, looks at the glowing screen -- in the side of his vision Heinz sees Perry press his beak into the watchface. “God, not now, Francis...” he mutters.

Heinz parks right next to the elevators in the apartment garage. His phone buzzes right as he shuts the car door. “Perry the Platypus, we’re going upstairs, okay?” he says. “You want to stay in the basket?”

Perry’s just staring into him as he’s addressed, no reaction to the question. So Heinz exhales and walks to the elevator, basket steady in his arm, and checks his phone. It’s from Carl: Dr. D, this is urgent: is Perry okay?

He freezes in the elevator lobby, and dials.

“Carl, are you there?”

“Yes, Doofenshmirtz, hi. Listen, I need to --”

“Do you KNOW about this? What’s going on with him?”

“I -- oh dear,” says Carl, sounding sad. “I guess it worked. How is he? Can you describe his behavior?”

Heinz balks at that, staring at his phone -- Carl just confessed to screwing Perry up somehow and now he’s asking after him like a caring orderly, shameless.

“Are you kidding me? His behavior? He’s not himself, Carl,” Heinz shoots back. The metallic echo of the boxy room amplifies his voice, so he tries not to yell too loud -- Perry is out of the basket on the floor of the room, staring nervously up at him from a few paces away. “He doesn’t seem to get what I’m saying, he had a major panic attack out of the blue -- and he won’t talk to me. Like, no signs, no nods. He’s walking on all fours, Carl. What did you do?!”

“It wasn’t me,” Carl squeaks defensively. “I mean -- it’s this audit, Heinz, the agent program investigation. They didn’t even notify us they were sending people over today. It’s FBI people, they” -- his voice tightens to a whisper -- “they busted into every office, they found some of our server rooms and -- look, I can’t get into this right now, but I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Just ... just keep Perry safe, take him home. And for the love of god don’t let him escape.”

Carl hangs up in a hurry, before Heinz can yell a reply. He scowls at the red call-end sign.

“What the hell is wrong with that kid,” Heinz asks the room. “Maybe Francis knows. I have to give him a call. I hate when it comes to that, Perry the Platypus.”

Perry is doubling back to the apple basket, slinking close to the floor with visible nerves. He clambers back inside. Heinz pushes the elevator button.

Upstairs, Heinz drops the basket on the kitchen island and budges Perry’s hat aside to place a hand on his head. “First things first, Perry the Platypus. We’re going to give you a checkup. Okay?”

Perry still doesn’t react, but Heinz will keep treating this like a two-way conversation. It’s an old habit that he hasn’t slipped into in a long time. He didn’t miss it.

Heinz leads him to the bathroom -- Perry mostly sticks by his feet, but stops in place once or twice, swiveling his gaze around the spacious penthouse canopy, either like it’s new to him, or like he’s remembering it. He snaps back whenever Heinz calls his name -- there’s that, at least. It’s not much, but it’s something.

Phineas’s housewarming gift, one of them, had been a platypus first-aid kit. He’d presented it to Heinz back when Perry had just told his family about them and Heinz was hosting a “win Perry the Platypus’s family over” lunch (unofficial title that Perry had deleted off the invitation cards). Heinz had read a kind of parental judgment into the gift choice, at the time, like the kid wasn’t trusting him to take adequate care of Perry on his own, without being handheld. Maybe Heinz’s reading was unfair -- he has a chip on his shoulder, when it comes to mom behavior.

He unsnaps it. The case is overstuffed -- it pops open with decollapsing trays of portable disinfectant and numbing wipes, surgical sewing kits, cut-closing gel and fur-safe teal bandages to cover it in all sizes, claw trimmers and medicated toothpastes and endoscopes. An impressive degree of overkill -- he really likes that kid, past misgivings aside.

“I’m just checking a few basic things,” Heinz tells Perry as he rummages through and pulls out a stethoscope. “Fever, stress, blood oxygen. You never know what can affect the brain -- a lot of things, really. Including Carl. Well we already know it’s Carl,” he grumbles. Perry’s irises contract at the flashlight shine, and he blinks and squirms in Heinz’s hold. “I’ll just have to squeeze him for answers later. Knowing the brain geniuses at OWCA they activated some stolen villain tech without back-engineering it first -- a mind-control beam, some harebrained monotreme-dumbdowninizer. Are they still using my memory eraser?” He huffs -- pulse and blood pressure readings are normal. “Why’d I ever make that thing. I can never recall.

“Everything looks fine so far, Perry the Platypus. That’s... that’s good,” he says, not feeling it. Perry is poking his bill inquisitively into the trays of the first-aid kit. Heinz will need to break out the MRInator. Been a while, so he’ll need to tune it first, which could take hours. Better get started on it right away. He needs to be working right now, because if he stops he thinks he will gelatinize into a ball of terror. That wouldn’t help Perry.

He’s 15 minutes into his work, checking that the gradient coils are aligned, when the phone rings. His screwdriver hits the ground as he lunges for it, ready to yell the full story out of Carl. But it’s Peter calling. He stares at the profile photo, which is many years out of date.

“...Hello? Peter the Panda, since when do you call? What’s up?”

“Hi, hi -- Doofenshmirtz?” comes a voice on the other line. It’s pitchy, so he has trouble placing it at first.

“Mystery? Is that you?”

This is weird. Heinz never talks to this guy. He isn’t even up on whether Professor Mystery’s still practicing evil -- just gets the impression from Peter that they’re doing alright together, whenever the two of them cross paths.

“I’m calling because something’s wrong with Peter,” he says, a quaver in his voice that Heinz can hear he is trying to suppress. “And I wanted to ask if you know anything. Did you do something to him, Doofenshmirtz? Or, if you didn’t. Can... can you come over here? Can you help me talk to him? I thought maybe he’d respond if he saw a familiar face, or maybe you’d have one of your... weird machines that could help him.”

“Verdammt noch mal,” Heinz hisses through the hand raking down his face. “That agency. It’s all of them?”

“...What?”

“It’s OWCA, Mystery, they did something to all of the agents. Apparently, if it hit Peter. Perry’s the same way.”

“...Oh,” responds Mystery. He sounds lost. “So can you come up here? I’ll -- I’ll cover your tickets. Both of them.”

Like he’d fly there commercial. “Mystery, I’m getting details out of the OWCA guys right now. I need more information before I can make any plans. Sorry.”

And Mystery couldn’t pay him enough to take Perry out of the city right now. Perry’s been hopping between the sofa and the carpet, then walking over to Heinz and bumping into his side as he works, before cycling back to the sofa, a knot of agitation. Right now he’s digging his forepaws into a couch cushion, like he’s trying to find something that isn’t there.

On the end of the line Mystery sniffles -- oh, no. “What happened to him, Doofenshmirtz?” he says, voice cracking. “My parents were trying to figure it out, they were asking me how old he is -- but it was so sudden, like something hit all at once. My dad asked if I let him go near any black holes recently.”

“Did you?” Heinz asks, genuine. Mystery got up to some hardcore science in the old days.

There’s an ursine growl on the other end, angrier than Peter sounds. “No. That’s their baggage. But I was worried,” Mystery says, “about the age thing. Because. Well.”

Heinz knows Peter’s well into his 20s, by now.

“There’s only so many more years, for him,” Mystery says, faltering. “And so -- what if this is -- if this is how he is now,” he wavers, “then that means I didn’t even... have the time, have the time I thought.”

This precedes a total breakdown of his speech into wracking sobs, that don’t transmit prettily over the phone audio. Heinz pulls the phone away from his ear, frowning at it with no little sympathy. Mystery’s age, like so much about him, has never been clear to Heinz -- but he can tell the guy’s young, comparatively. Whatever their relationship passes for there’s a strained mentorship quality to it -- Mystery has turned to Heinz for answers, in the past, and has repaid him with petulant resentment every time. It’s very bratty. Like when Vanessa would ask him for help with science projects. Heinz can’t resist another opportunity to help each time he’s asked, even knowing the outcome.

But consoling this man wasn’t on Heinz’s docket for today. “Mystery,” he says, “You’ll get that time. You cannot have so little faith in Peter the Panda, so soon after something happens to him. You’re a scientist -- you’re a master of mystery. Give it a few days, before you have a breakdown, alright? That’s what Peter would want.”

Heinz thought that was pretty good, but Mystery just cries harder on the line. He feels shaken -- he doesn’t want to be hearing this right now. That’s selfish, he knows -- but Mystery has family. Mystery can handle himself, and he can handle Peter. Heinz cares deeply for Peter’s wellbeing, still, but part of caring has meant learning to trust his choice of partner, just like Peter trusts his.

“Look, Mystery, I have to go,” he says -- he looks up, and doesn’t see Perry. Suddenly he meant what he said, with an urgency. “Get your parents to help, and tell them all morbid speculation is banned. Give them a furbrush, tell them go to town on him. They’ll love it, he’ll love it. Bye.”

He snaps off the call and rushes through the house, looking for Perry. The kitchen, the balcony ledge, the pool. This place is too big, when he doesn’t want it to be.

He finds a puddle in the bathroom. Perry knew enough to go in there, apparently, but not how to use the toilet.

Perry is back in the sitting room hiding under the glass coffee table, tail curled under like he’s ashamed. “Oh, Perry the Platypus,” Heinz sighs, kneeling at the table and reaching under to stroke Perry’s head. “What are we going to do with you.”

Mr. Fluffypants’ old litterbox is in the storage room that used to belong to Norm. He sets it up next to the toilet. Their bathroom has ample room. He exits, knowing he has to keep the inertia rolling, has to work, can’t process that he just set out a litterbox for Perry. How is he supposed to process that.

Right across from the door, in the hallway, there’s an elongated picture frame with photos from a family beach trip, when Heinz had more color in his hair. The left side highlights Vanessa, who’d brought along a friend -- she’s laughing in some of them, more unrestrained happiness than she showed in her gradeschool years. There’s the massive sandcastle they’d constructed, Norm using his vacant head to scoop, Vanessa lifting Perry up to decorate the upper echelons with fine detail, the two of them focused on this process for a long time while they’d chatted. And then photos of Perry, the surf breaking over his feet as he poses with a notch-tailed surfboard, cool confidence in the line of his smile. Heinz loves that picture: he looks so handsome, his white beach shirt open and playing in the wind.

He finds himself staring at it. This was Perry an hour ago.

He calls out: “Do you know Vanessa, Perry the Platypus? Va-ne-ssa?”

No response, obviously -- Heinz is convinced he could jostle some kind of reaction out of Perry if Vanessa stopped by in person, like Mystery had been aiming at with him. But he has no intention of letting her see him in this state. Perry would hate that.

Heinz collapses into his folded arms on the kitchen island, amid the newly-purchased bags of flour and sugar, for the apple pie they will not be making tonight. He doesn’t want to eat.

But Perry should, he realizes after a minute, lifting his head. Perry seems less agitated now, has been wandering the floor. Right now he’s peering out at the balcony sky, seated. Heinz walks over to him. “You’re not going to try and run off of that, right?” Perry looks up. “Carl made it sound like you were gonna bolt if I so much as left a door open.” But Perry’s been keeping near to him, following him from room to room. The real Perry isn’t this clingy. “I don’t trust you to operate a parachute right now, Perry the Platypus. And don’t let me see you going in the jetpack closet.”

More empty eye contact. “Let’s get you dinner.”

It’s reheated lasagna they’d made a few nights ago, beef and zucchini. Heinz stares hopefully at Perry as he eats it off the plate, thinking the taste might stir a memory. He noses the fork off the table, jumps a little at its clatter, then starts nibbling bites off the edge of the lasagna block. Heinz is over there cutting it up with a butter knife when Carl’s return call finally buzzes in his pocket -- he puts it on the tabletop set to speaker mode. “Carl. I hope you’re ready to talk.”

“Yes Doofenshmirtz, hi,” returns the tinny nasal voice. “I had to get home -- Monogram’s getting grilled over there, and he wouldn’t stop yelling back at them, at the FBI agents, who were jumping at the bit to arrest him. I managed to broker a peace,” Carl ends, proudly.

“That’s fantastic, Carl,” says Heinz. “How about explaining what you did to Perry the Platypus’s brain? It hit Peter too, by the way, I know this is a bigger problem than you want me to think.”

“I don’t want you to think anything!” says Carl. “This wasn’t my choice, Heinz, or Monogram’s for that matter. They turned off the agent control switch. I kept telling them they didn’t need to do that, they should just leave the agents alone -- it’s more safe that way, honestly, we didn’t even know what would happen if they used it. But they just said if it’s part of the animal program, it needs to go.”

Heinz’s stomach sinks lower than he thought it could. “Agent control switch? You’re controlling them?”

“No!” says Carl. “It’s not a -- clear term. Nobody’s controlling the animals, Heinz. It’s like a remote control hub, with a binary state, on and off. They shut it off.’

“So that’s good,” Heinz falters, trying not to let the ominous weight of whatever this implies overwhelm his thought. “You can just switch it back on. It sounds like you can literally fix this with a button press, Carl, so do it.”

“Well, yes and no,” Carl dithers. “They shut it off. Then they confiscated all our equipment. They said ‘classified’, when I asked where it was going. so my guess is it’ll end up in some storage basement or the FBI dumpster, based on how badly they mishandled it. They split open the casing just getting it out of the room, it was hard to watch.”

That sounds about right for OWCA, 70s-era supercomputers filling up rooms they were never intended to leave. “So the switch controls something in Perry’s head?” Heinz asks, steadily. He’s thinking of the giant magnet he was about to put Perry inside. “Like a metal chip?”

“It’s a bioelectric material, I’m pretty sure,” Carl says. “Part of what makes it so hard to access, once it’s inside. The investigators were going to make us lobotomize all the agents, if I hadn’t told them about the switch, it was the only choice. They’re serious about stamping out this program, Heinz, like they’re trying to erase it from the public consciousness. Because if people see a dog in a hat they’ll mob up and burn the government down, apparently.”

Heinz feels on board with that plan at the moment. “Carl. Professor Mystery’s having a breakdown, I had to talk him off the cliff this afternoon. Neither of us knew about this. You didn’t tell any of us,” the heat is rising in his voice, “that Peter and Perry had something in them that you controlled, that this could happen at any minute. Did they know about this?”

Carl is quiet a second. “... I’m not sure,” he says. “I thought Perry knew. It’s not a major secret, it’s just what we do, to promising recruits. It’s had a less pronounced effect in the newer ones, since we stopped putting them in babies. But Perry’s always had it. That’s why he’s so intelligent. But he might not have known about the control switch -- it’s really a relic, we haven’t run power through it in decades, since we’ve had no reason to deactivate the agents.”

Perry’s nosing around the table, his lasagna half-eaten -- he makes a small noise of complaint. “Oh -- I didn’t give you water,” Heinz realizes. A cup seems too optimistic, so he fills up a bowl.

“Is that Perry?” asks Carl from the phone speaker -- Heinz rolls his eyes. “How is he? I’m really sorry, by the way, Heinz -- there’s a lot on our plates over here, I’m just trying to keep us afloat and Monogram on a leash. You know I care about him, too.”

“Then fix him,” says Heinz. Carl goes quiet, while Perry drinks from his bowl.

“...We’ll figure it out. Good night, Doofenshmirtz.”

Heinz looks out at the silent space of his apartment -- the living room lamp is taking on the brunt of lighting it, now the early autumn dark has fallen. With the phonecall battles over and done for the night, it seems quieter than usual.

This space is normally filled by just him and Perry, now that Norm and Vanessa are out on their own. Perry doesn’t talk, and employs his platypus noises judiciously, only making sound when he really wants Heinz’s attention, or is in a temper. But his presence fills the space, in a way that’s hard to explain, easy to feel.

Normal nights, Heinz gabs his way into the late hours with Perry as his receptive listener, and responder, accompanying Heinz on their end-of-day tidying chores, toweling dishes off for him to stack on high shelves, shooting him dry looks and signing quick sentences that make Heinz scoff. Perry believes Heinz is worth listening to, which makes Heinz want to keep chatting with him, more and more, a self-feeding loop that would overload the casual conversational partner. But Perry is no casual.

Normal afternoons, they work on parallel projects to the sound of old radio serials, to audiobooks of bestselling mystery novels, to the Landmarks in Evil podcast. Perry will grab Heinz’s attention to sign some withering remark on the spotlighted villain of the week, and Heinz will snort into his construction tools. Perry’s presence grants him undesired OWCA updates around the house, that they both groan at simultaneously. Perry grants him gift-laden drop-ins from Ferb and Phineas -- literal balcony visits, often, since those kids and their friends fly around the city in more novel contraptions than Perry once did. Perry gives him looks that say everything.

Now, Perry has hopped off the kitchen chair and is padding around Heinz into the living room space. He turns to look at Heinz, like he keeps on doing, but his face expresses only a primal distress. He chirps a high, querulous note, cry-like, foreign on Perry’s tongue. Heinz could step on Perry’s tail ten times -- he has -- and not hear a noise that heartrending.

“I know, Perry the Platypus.” Such a thing you say to pets. But he shares Perry’s sentiment.

A flash of guilt twinges his stomach, and he pulls out his phone to text Peter’s number: Got the intel - I’m fixing it. Take care of Peter the Panda tonight.

A quick reply: I AM. Heinz’s lip quirks.

Heinz raps on the shell of the MRInator -- its completion feels less urgent, now that he has a better concept of the problem. He’ll finish it after a night of sleep, so he doesn’t risk frying Perry’s neurons. He doesn’t want to sleep, knows it won’t be easy, with this mountainous weight hanging over him. But dire times call for proper rest, he’s learned to accept, after 50-some odd years. He downs a plastic cup of Nyquil.

“I’ll have to fix you tomorrow, Perry the Platypus,” he tells him. “Or else I’ll start owing everyone an explanation. Really don’t wanna give the ‘Carl Scrambled Perry’s Brain’ apology tour to your family. I don’t think they’d talk to me again, even though everything is Carl’s fault. As established by the name of the tour.”

Perry wails again, a haunting trill sent into the darkness of the penthouse.

“But don’t worry,” Heinz adds, hurrying over to Perry -- he bends to pet his head. “I will fix this for you. And for Peter the Panda too, and all the other agents. I promise.

Perry whines again, more quietly, in Heinz’s hold, looking up at him with sad brown eyes. Heinz rubs his old hands through the fur of his head -- Perry looks so different right now, hunched in a dog’s sitting posture. Whatever they did to him, whatever pathways are now shut off in his mind, must have enabled or encouraged more human postures, better standing balance -- who knows.

Heinz isn’t sure what to make of Perry now, this animal shell of him. He wonders if Perry feels the same about him -- what is he to Perry now? His partner, his mere protector? Is he less than he used to be?

Heinz takes his left paw, gently, lifting it in his hand. He thumbs the metal ring on his finger.

“For the MRI tomorrow,” he tells Perry. “In case I forget.” He removes it.

Perry pads after Heinz as he gets a glass of water from the sink, as he walks to the bedroom. He feels odd dressing down to his boxers, in front of him now. Perry doesn’t pay him any mind, though -- as soon as he walks in he jumps his way up to the bedspread, scrabbling at the blankets on the edge to barely avoid falling.

“Not letting you in any apple trees,” Heinz muses emptily.

He slumps back into the pillows, feeling the doxylamine fog roll in. “But I’ll need you back soon,” he says, “so we can do the Haunted Haymaze with the kids.”

Perry trods up to him on the blanket. He makes a quiet noise -- not scared or confused, but a regular krrr, like he used to make. A gentle declaration of presence, a little care-package growl. Heinz lifts his arm, and Perry crawls under it, pushing his head into his neck. This movement isn’t forgotten, to him.

Heinz hugs his other arm around Perry’s body, and he falls asleep.

---

[scarecrowsandcherryblossoms]

And the prompts for KakaSaku Week 2024: Falling For You are live! Come explore our favorite couple in different seasons of love. Each day has two prompts to choose from to go along with the theme for the day, taken from unused trope of the month prompts suggested by the lovely members of our discord and other suggestions from the mods.

Feel free to fulfill one or both of each day's prompts. Fics, art, moodboards, songs, we want to see them all! (It's understood that some of these may require a little more explanation, so see below the cut for details.)

Have questions? Want to brainstorm with others? Need to gush about KakaSaku in general? Send us an ask.... or come join our Discord! We're open for ONE WEEK starting today, ending next Saturday (9/07), approximately 10 AM EST.

CLICK HERE TO JOIN THE SCARECROWS AND CHERRY BLOSSOMS DISCORD!

Falling For You Prompts (November 10-16, 2024)

Day 1-Slowly, Then All At Once

(Think about how a leaf falls from a tree, slowly, then quickly once it touches the ground. Kinda like a good slow burn romance that hits you with the feels once the characters realize that oh—they're in love)

🌸Fake Dating

🐺Gods and Mortals

Day 2-Forbidden Love

(Give me your best Montagues vs Capulets, enemies to lovers, Twilight, power imbalance dynamic, star crossed lovers etc. scenarios you can think of!)

🌸 Forced Proximity

🐺 Secrets

Day 3-Unrequited

(The angst, the heartbreak, the crying that happens in the midnight hours when one has an unrequited love. Sometimes it's not as unrequited as one thinks, but who's to say we'll ever know? 👀)

🌸 Blind Date

🐺 "oh my god they were roommates"

Day 4-It's Always Been You

(There better be so much pining a forest has sprouts in the background of the love story shown. Is the pining mutual but of course they don't know it? One sided?)

🌸 Hanahaki Disease

🐺 Firsts

Day 5-Accidentally In Love

(Think Shrek. Someone you're not supposed to fall in love with, or they were never supposed to be on your radar to begin with. Marriages/relationships of convenience, if we're not married by 35 let's marry each other! type situations.)

🌸 Fears

🐺 Love Letters

Day 6-Second Chances

(What if Kakashi and Sakura were exes? How do they get their second chance romance? Or they were almost lovers but circumstances ripped them apart and now here they are with another chance?)

🌸 Biggest Fan

🐺 Love Triangle

Day 7-5+1

(Remember all those fics about the five times a character did something or didn't do something and then the one time they did? Yeah? Well this is that. ie the fives times they almost kissed and the one time they did, or the five times they lied and the one time they didn't, etc. The possibilities are endless!)

🌸 Gift

🐺 There was only one bed

[caitchercatlady]

Sleeping Over at Ramshackle w/Idia

Never leaves his room? You take that as a challenge, and you know just the answer to Night Raven College’s biggest riddle.

Idia…I wanna play a fighting game. You down?

Which one? I can connect you.

How about the one you left at Ramshackle with me?

I can literally mod that.

But you can’t eat my freshly baked cookies from your dorm.

(I want it emoji) Fine, you win.

Idia can never resist your baked goods, no matter how hard he tries. He needs them to function on that console of yours.

When he comes over, you don’t expect him to have a bag of spare clothes with him, but you remember that when it comes to gaming, it’s going to be a long night. India immediately goes for your choco cookies.

“Power up!” he cheers after eating two of them.

Then, you two are duking it out for the virtual champion title.

The both of you spend three long hours blistering your thumbs on your controllers. The health bars on the corners of the TV screen are at the chokehold. You and Idia don’t notice how a storm has brewers outside. It’s storming so much that it brings on the thunder. One large crack is all it takes for the power in Ramshackle to drop from fifty percent to zero. India and you take a few seconds to adjust to reality, but you also realize how dark the dorm is without any source of light.

“Good Seven, this would never happen in Ignihyde,” mutters Idia.

You, on the other hand, don’t comment. You point out how late it is instead. You offer to make up Idia’s room as he takes a shower. He might as well. You’ve never had to do this in the dark though. Not that it’s impossible, but your limbs are quaking as you hold your phone as a flashlight under your chin and tighten the sheets onto the spare bed.

You are in the middle of fluffing the pillows when Idia exits the washroom. He peers into the room, watching you shaking like a leaf. He’s all too familiar with the sensation. He clears his throat, alerting you of his presence. You can’t be happier to see Idia in his unexpectedly athletic looking pajamas. The contradiction makes you snicker.

“What? If you were going to catch me in anime tees, that’s never going to happen,” he says.

“Why not? You rarely leave your room anyway. Not like anyone would care.”

“Incorrect. I learned my lesson during my first year. I’ve been wearing my STYX night gear ever since.”

You frown at this. “Sorry.”

Idia suggests that you get a candle or two to light up the place. It would help you sleep better than having your flashlight from your phone beaming in both of your faces. You explain that you tried looking for candles the other day, but Ramshackle doesn’t have any, and Sam doesn’t provide candles unless it’s for the main school building’s events. Idia remarks that he should’ve expected that.

“What? You’re not gonna say anything?” you ask, notioning that Idia knows about your fear of the dark.

Of course, he does, but…“Not really. A NEET like me calling someone like you a baby for a fear of darkness is the most “pot calling the kettle black” scenario some airhead with no creative RPG ideas could ever come up with.”

There’s no argument that you can come up with to combat that.

“As much as I wish I could fix this problem, there is no one-hit solution for that.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But uh…”

You elevate an eyebrow.

Idia unzips the jacket to reveal a gray, Premo shirt underneath, revealing how Idia still has his interests, but he has told the truth about no anime related clothing. His face begins to pinken, and the tips of his long blue hair fade into blush as well. “I’ve seen this corny thing a ton of times, but I heard it works. If you wanna…then…I guess…”

You carefully step around your bed to prevent yourself from stubbing your toe, and when you are in the clear, you take Idia’s offer to hug into his night jacket. Having you touch him is already nerve-wracking for the introverted Housewarden, but then, to have him wrap you in the jacket folds turns the pale third-year into an overheating furnace. He suggests that you guys hide under the covers before he’d faint onto the floor.

You’re not too pleased with having to turn the flashlight of your phone off, but as you are not alone this evening, both you and Idia suppose that safety is in both of your corners tonight. 

[tmntseparatedaucompetition]

Ok, I'm gonna make a sep au bingo card. What should I add to it

[drarryspecificrecs]

Unleashed! Fest 2023 : Masterlist of DRARRY fics

@unleashed-fest || official masterpost || AO3 || stats : 20 works The Mods : @getawayfox & @stavromulabetaaa Banner © : @the-houseryn's how the hell...

---

1. Birds Behaving Badly by @peachpety [E, 10k]

For eight years, Draco has been content living a quiet life of anonymity in Brighton, dodging pesky seagulls and enjoying the ephemeral boys of summer. And if these summer blokes just happen to resemble Harry Potter, it’s a mere coincidence—despite what his friends say. But when a repeat one-night stand challenges him to face his desires, Draco thinks he’s finally over his years-long crush. A seagull named Kevin thinks otherwise.

2. Harry Potter And The Dubious Rescue Of His Ferrety Boyfriend by Animamundi [T, 8k]

Draco Malfoy always ends up getting bullied by other animals while in his Animagus form. Harry must rescue him again. Or must he?

3. It’s Me or the Peacock by harrows [T, 4k]

They’ve been together for two years when Draco finally moves into Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Only, Harry didn’t know he’d be bringing a pet with him.

4. No capacity for feelings by @fastbrother [T, 2k]

Draco's Basilisk might or might not be depressed. Whatever the case, he would never ask Harry Potter for help.

5. Of Magical Beings Being - Magic by @rockingrobin69 [E, 30k]

Out of the blue, Potter's letter says: I need you. And Draco, ever a fool, goes. Cue magical houses, fluffy Beings with a sweet tooth, mutual pining level: infinity, and a truly outrageous amount of tea.

6. Peacocks of the Bride(groom) by @apricitydays-lazynights & @tempestuousblue [T, 7k]

The Big Day is here! Draco and Harry are finally getting hitched. Will the wedding be a smashing success or will peacock-induced chaos ensue? (It’s the latter, for sure)

7. Slithering up the Garden Path by @flightinflame [G, 1k]

Draco just wants to read in the garden. He's not sure why there are so many snakes around.

8. the strays by @owl-of-fandom [T, 13k]

Draco befriends stray animals in his back garden, unknowing that one of them is actually an animagus.

9. Sun Shower by @moonmanatee [T, 5k]

Each afternoon, Harry and his cat lounge in their sitting room, make an elaborate snack, and then head out for a walk. When they run into a certain tall, pale-haired man and his scruffy dog, they find their routine shifting.

10. Waiting for the Moon to Rise by @wolfpants [E, 8k]

When Harry and Draco move into Grimmauld Place straight out of Hogwarts, the last person they expect to find taking up residence is Bill ‘divorced, dishevelled, and dangerous’ Weasley. But what if their new, furry little problem is the help they need to finally bring them closer? Stranger things have happened, Draco supposes.

11. Wings and Slings by @steampunkserpent27 [T, 24k]

After the war, Draco Malfoy decides to turn over a new leaf and in doing so, opens an animal sanctuary for sick and homeless magical creatures. Everything is going well, until he is given a feral herd of hippogriffs and has to ask for outside help to be able to get anywhere near them. Only, it's the very last person he would have asked for help from.

---

✔ other fests in 2023 ✔ fests in other years

[tmntseparatedaucompetition]

what the hell magnus /lh

as the teacher of the class. I NEED TO KNOW

warriors heart is up in the polls for @tmntseparatedaucompetition today.

vote warriors heart is all i can say

(i'll make a list of goodies you'll get if you do later)

[pleasantspark]

HH/HB Server gets mad at me for making Pentious Tan

I wanted to share Non-Pale. Tan Pentious edit and got dogpiled almost immediately.

Color Coded so people can't complain FAKE FAKE FAKE. The server is not going to be named as it's a pretty big server filled with minors and if you know which server it is, DON'T say it.

People in there are children and I do NOT want anyone getting harassed, this is just another example of people assigning intent. The only party that's uncensored is me.

Color Codes !!

Blue - Discord Friend Yellow - Someone with common sense. Black - Don't like these people Magneta - Someone not involved. Purple - Actual On Duty Mod. Light Green - Unsure if they are on my side or what Red - Person who said something uncomfortable to me.

I sent the render after completing it and using a BG Removal AI Tool to make it a render for my new wallpaper as I am taking Pentious and using him as my own.

People began to point out the "issue"

ID: Sir Pentious PFP with a trans masc flag on the outer ring named "Saint Pentious's Wife" with a small emoji of Vox and a leaf on discord next to it posted Today at 5:57 AM with the caption of "Is this render okay?" attached is a Sir Pentious image but of human and he's completely tanned.

Black #1 replied "He's a lot paler than that" and blue replies to black #1 with "mhh"

Saint Pentious's Wife forwards a earlier message from Purple stating "It's their headcanon" Black #1 said "Well if it's your head cannon that it's a good render then there you go"

Black #2 responds with an image definition of Headcanon which is:

Headcanon is a word used in film/television/comics/etc. fandom that refers to something a fan imagines about the characters (such as a scenario or relationship) but that doesn't appear on screen/on the page.

End ID

After I posted the image more people started being "jokey" which is impossible to tell and most of these people see others using tone tags. They were trying to make me feel bad about what I did. Labeling as racism and the such. I highlighted a few points that stand out.

ID: Saint Repentious's Wife was responding to Black #2 asking about what they should color Adam. "Yes"

Black #2 proceeded to send "?" as a response.

Another person, Black #3 responded to the intial post with a caption reading "Bro blackwashed him" and attached is the original concept of Sir Pentious.

I respond with something logical: "Why are Y'all being weird about it, I just made him tan. He's tan."

Black #3 responded. "But he's pale" and responded in regards to Alastor. "I also noticed that Alastor is still black in his demon form."

I responded. "You think all Londions are pale?"

Black #3 responds to Black #2 "With Adam's colors."

I proceeded to send:

"Thats kinda oddly weird. Like, why do you care what I do, it's not like he's being erased fully. He's still white but tan. Accusing me of racism is wildly crazy and makes me uncomfortable. Please stop it."

END ID.

I sent an image of the color wheel to showcase how pale he is. People still doesn't care.

ID: I sent a image of a hex code website with the hex code being displayed as #EFDFD8 and a caption reading: "This is where he is on the Color Wheel"

Black #??? responded: "He was white though"

I responded: "Why is everyone questioning people on redesigns?"

Red chimes in: "idk whats wrong with being pale"

I responded: "He's from London, not all Londonians are PALE."

Black #??? responded to Red: "Racism." With a blue shocked emoji.

I responded once again: "Nearly all of Viv's Characters are Pale. Imagine saying someone's racist just for making a character slightly tan thats crazy"

END ID

A little info on Red, they have numerous times made me uncomfortable, even after I told them to stop, they did not make the effort to apologize or even backtrack, even with Black #4 not taking it seriously. One of the rules in the server is not to make anyone uncomfortable specifically in regards to questions but also had a rule to be nice to everyone.

Red responds to a Vox PFP (Offscreen) with the caption "OVER FIVE YEARS?"

I responded to the conversation: "I fw Pilot Husk's design. I was a fan since the Pilot ages (Al's design more specifically.)" Beforehand Red also tried to make me feel weird for selfshipping with Husk by saying "He's a cat bro." yeah, and? People simp for Loona the same.

Black #4 responded to my uncomfortableness to Red with a skull emoji.

I responded: ":/ What? Personal trigger of mine, is that wrong of me to wish for people to not say that?"

Red once again doesn't take it seriously and tries to paint it as a light ribbing by saying: "it was sarcasm lil bro do u think im a perv or sum."

I responded: "Please don't call me Lil Bro, also, I dont understand tones. You're talking to someone who has Autism."

Red says: "sorry ma am" which isn't sincere in my eyes.

I correct them "*sir."

Red responds: "what.."

END ID

I clarified to Red on my correction and they were confused because of my name, when my pfp states my pronouns which were Ze/Zir/It/Its which should atleast give them the idea that I wasn't a ma'am.

ID: I responded to Red saying "I'm saying I'm a male? Not ma'am."

Red responded: "but but you ur display name nvm"

I responded: "Malwife doesn't fit" with a sobbing emoji after this.

END ID

I responded to Red on them calling me Lil Bro, as I am a full 20 years old, I don't care if its slang but I don't know you and if you call me Lil Bro, Sis, Hun then fuck off. I told them MULTIPLE times now, and they refused to, once again this server mentions you to NOT make people uncomfortable. This is where they made a "Joke" to my hard drive which has files of my Artwork and DBZ stuff. I'm a CSA survivor. You SHOULDN'T make those kinds of jokes to ANYONE especially IF they just joined the server.

ID: I responded to an offscreen ask by Red: "Sadly gtg trying to recover my corrupted hard drive with my DBZ stuff"

Red went out of left field with this "joke" which they could have NOT said: "ok dont drop the soap"

I responded: "Dont say that please."

Red didn't apologize but said: "ok."

END ID

This is the last image, basically, this STILL became an issue. Mod didn't try and scroll up. And I don't even care. Here's the final fuckfest that made me consider actually killing myself from the stress.

ID: Black #??? replies to me in regards to my offense on the term racism being thrown around as: "I was kidding bru don't take it personally"

Mod responds to my londons not being pale comment with: "in the 1800s before immigration was a thing (THIS ISN'T BEING RACIST) they would have all been really white"

I responded: "Yeah, I really wanted to make him tan"

Green chimed in: "There's a difference between Brown and grey"

Yellow responded: "It's just a headcanon stop being weird"

Mod responded to my tan comment: "Yeah that's fine like ur headcanon do what u want i was just saying information about 1800s uk."

Yellow comments on the double standards: "People in the 1800s also didn't know how to build laver death machines but y'all draw the line at a bit of Melanin."

Magneta replies to my earlier question about how they separates vocals: "weights al has a feature where it splits the vocals and music"

I responded: "I dunno man, people keep on jumping on people who does this, and it makes me anxious I am just doing something fun. I'm sorry for making a character slightly darker But a lot of people here have oddly said some really weird things to me like the whole "hope you don't drop the soap" I shouldn't have to say why that makes me uncomfortable due to personal reasons."

Mod replies to Yellow in regards to their excellent point: "Tesia was close enough"

Then Mod responded to me: "Ur drawings fine ignore people saying that"

END ID

I am aware that these people might be minors, but like WHAT THE FUCK? No ONE is this level of pale, I mean it's POSSIBLE but like NOT to the level of Sir Pentious. Also, if someone tells you to stop you do it, you don't continue with a joke.

This is literally making me want to kill myself. I like to thank Blue and Yellow for trying atleast. Sir Pentious was more Tan, he wasn't black or anything he was just more tan. It makes more sense then pale sheet white as snow template base that the fandom designs have.

I just am going thru alot so if I don't respond I did it.

I'm sorry.

(If I am still here, that means I apssed out, I am too depressed, peroiod ridden and sleep deprived.)

[nhlplayerswithbows]

so im in the discord channels of a couple of different teams and the way they reflect the fan culture.... the leafs have a dedicated dooming channel, the bruins mods are constantly terrorizing everyone, the canucks have the most organized and beautiful server I've ever seen, etc. etc...anyways I had to say something